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#i actually have no bookshelf left

niennanir · 11 months

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Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title:

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials: 8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders.

#fanbinding #fanfiction #Nir paperback

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aethersea · 21 days

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I've always wanted to learn bookbinding, ever since I was a wee little nerd, but there are a lot of things I've always wanted to learn, and this one has both a daunting upfront materials cost and a daunting upfront research cost. however, my sister is a jewel among siblings and gave me for christmas last year a handy dandy bookbinding manual, a block of good paper, and a little bag of tools.

but I still didn't have a suitable workspace, nor any of the many important tools and materials that she didn't include in her gift. so I just read the manual and pined. until maybe a month ago I got fed up with pining, flattened a cardboard box for a cutting mat, and went to town.

and I'm real proud of myself, so here's me rambling, plus photos!

I went to the thrift store and got glue + some fabric to bind the cover, went to Michaels for a paintbrush (and later went back for a metal ruler lmao it's amazing how useful it is to have a straightedge for cutting the paper), and...could not find material for the cover boards. so I went home and pined some more. but the urges were too strong, so after a couple hours of moping I got a stack of printer paper at the grocery store (I could not bring myself to use the good paper for my first, inevitably weak attempts, I just couldn't do it) and started making a little booklet. which was a great idea, it turned out, since it makes for good practice with cutting the paper, measuring things, punching holes in the signatures, etc.

I have a big box of greeting cards from Michaels, which I used for the covers. it didn't feel like I was making a Real Book, so I got some colored paper from the stationery store and used that for end papers.

so fancy~

galvanized by this success, I ordered a stack of chipboard online to use for cover boards; and once I was confident that I could cut paper without making it look too stupid (getting that straightedge ruler sure helped lol), I made signatures out of the good paper, left them under some heavy books overnight since I don't have a book press, and then punched holes in them! (huzzah for this nice video on getting the holes right)

my sister's gift included good linen thread. it's unwaxed, but after some poking around on r/bookbinding it looks like that just means I'll have to be more careful to avoid tangles and keep good tension. I am fine with this. I can be extra attentive. (I considered just running it over a beeswax candle, but one commenter said if your wax has paraffin in it, it could melt in a hot car, ruining the spine. I can't guarantee my candle is 100% beeswax, I didn't make it, so maybe we just move on.)

I don't have good linen fabric to use for the tapes, but the important part there is that the fabric be thin, sturdy, and not stretchy. the probably-cotton I got from the thrift store fits the bill, so it'll do!

this is a french link stitch, which I got from this exceedingly good tutorial. apparently it's strong enough on its own that for a book of this size, I don't actually need tapes, but I'd already cut the things so eh here we are. and tapes plus french link will make it a stronger binding still (according to a friendly redditor on r/bookbinding), so we carry on.

specifically we carry on to the gluing step. now as I mentioned, I do not have a book press, and you....kinda need one for this step. you need to hold the book block in place with the signatures facing upwards, pressed together hard enough that the glue won't run down between them and stick the pages together (though you do want the glue to get between them just a little, just for like a 16th of an inch). you at least need some clamps and a couple boards to sandwich the book block with.

but you know what? I'm not a professional, this is my first ever book, if it's a little bit off it'll be fine. so we grab all the heaviest books off the bookshelf and improvise.

it's fine! I'm sure it's fine! and just in case it's not, I've tucked a bit of cardboard underneath to catch any glue that drips down so it won't land on the floor. see? I'm prepared! I'm acing this.

and actually, it really was fine. I used clear elmer's glue, applied with a flat paintbrush from the art supplies aisle at Michael's, and frankly I liked the way the flat paintbrush let me slip glue in between the signatures. I did poke around on a couple bookbinding sites to see what kind of glue I should use, and the gist is that although there are better options than this, elmer's glue is perfectly serviceable, and the main downside is it's not archival grade. but I don't need my first bookbinding attempts to last 200 years, that's fine.

the next step is to add the mull. mull is a specific type of fabric – extremely loose-weave linen – and the idea is to paste it down over the spine to essentially hold the tapes and signatures all in place in relation to each other.

but I don't have mull! so I'm using more of the thrift store probably-cotton, because it's thin enough and not really stretchy at all. I'm sure this will be fine too. I painted a layer of glue onto the spine, then left it to dry a bit while I measured and cut the fabric, then painted a generous stripe of glue down the center, where it'll affix onto the spine. then I added a bit more glue to the spine, just to be sure, and pressed the mull into place, rubbing it thoroughly to make sure it's firmly affixed to every signature, with no creases in the fabric or air bubbles beneath it.

honestly I might have overdone it on the glue. I've never done this before, I don't know! I think it's okay, though – I tried not to ever let it become a thick layer, just a slight coating, since the danger of too much glue is that it might crack once dry and weaken the spine.

and now we leave it in the press overnight to dry, and pick up the next step in the morning!

#finx rambles #bookbinding #finx makes stuff #technically this is the second hardcover book I've made #but it's the first I'm making using Approved Techniques™#instead of watching a handful of half-relevant youtube videos and making up the rest #which was fun!#but did mean that once I was done I didn't know where to go from there #and at the time I couldn't find better resources #(I really wanted better youtube videos! just didn't know how to find them idk)#(it was 2020 I was unwell. as I'm sure we all understand)#but now I have an abundance of good sources #and I'm determined

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storiesofsvu · 2 months

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Welcome Home

Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, smut, minor daddy kink, lots of praise.

Coming home from work had always been a form of relief for Aaron, knowing that his day was done, and he was able to relax at least a little bit before doing it all again tomorrow. But this Friday was different, this Friday not only was it a guarantee that he had two days off, he also wasn’t coming home to an empty apartment. Moving in together had been a very easy decision, he no longer had to worry about making a stop at his place before yours, didn’t have to triple check his go bag was always packed and he got to come home to you already in your shared space, happy as can be.

Almost every night this week he had come home to find you in the midst of an IKEA challenge or putting up some nice decorations. Which is exactly where he found you tonight, standing on a chair on your tip toes pinning up fairy lights over the patio window with your favourite playlist flowing through the room. As he put his things down, stepping out of his shoes and hanging up his blazer a smirk took over his lips at the actual sight in front of him. You’d clearly showered recently and chosen to tug on one of his oversized tee shirts instead of actually getting dressed and it appeared the shirt was all you’d bothered with. Your arms outstretched over your head caused the fabric to rise up, the curve of your ass poking out from beneath it as you secured another pin.

Aaron undid his tie, tossing it to the island as he started to undo his shirt, rolling up the sleeves while he crossed the room. Reaching out his hands slid over the curve of your ass before settling on your hips and he chuckled at the way you jumped, turning around when you felt him press a kiss to the small of your back. You were perched on the highest tips of your toes attempting to continue the chain of lights without toppling off the chair.

“You want some help with that?” He smiled softly and you let out a huff of a laugh.

“I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Looks like you were pretty focused.” He nodded toward the lights, and you laughed again.

“I guess. And yeah, I can’t seem to reach it.”

With one clean swoop Aaron picked you up from the chair, resulting in a squeal escaping your lips before he set you on the ground and placed a kiss to the top of your head. You watched with a smile as he effortlessly stepped up onto the chair and was able to reach the spots you never would have been able to.

“That even?”

“Looks perfect.” You smiled as he stepped down from the chair, your hands coming to cup his cheeks so you could press a kiss to his lips, “thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You shook your head, taking the chain of lights back from him, “it was just the part above the window I was struggling with. Go grab a drink, relax.” You squeezed as his hand, shifting the chair to the left before you climbed back up on it and he was left to wander down the hallway.

Doing as you suggested he got comfortable, changing into a tee and sweats, tossing his work clothes into the hamper and padding back down to the kitchen barefoot to find you humming along to the music as you continued your task. He found a pack of his favourite beer in the fridge, cracking one for himself and grabbing one for you, placing it on the bookshelf you were beside before he dropped into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

The two of you caught up briefly, talked each other through your day while he scrolled through his phone, though his attention mainly remained on you. Since plugging in the string of lights the room and thus you, were bathed in a nearly angelic glow as you continued to work. Every time you moved the shirt simply dared to show more skin and he knew you could feel his eyes on you by the way you kept shifting, the little glances you’d toss over your shoulder to him with an almost shy grin, your cheeks heating. At one point you bent over to grab another hook from the bookshelf and he felt his cock twitch in his pants at the sight of your pussy fully exposed to him.

“Careful…” He warned, a playful tone in his voice and you glanced over your shoulder with a quizzical look on your face.

“I know how to use a hammer.” You replied with a laugh, gesturing to all your previous work and he chuckled, taking another sip of his drink before he stood up to cross the room.

“I know…” he murmured, his hands ghosting up your thighs and your breath caught in your throat. One of his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him while the other travelled up your back, tangling in the roots of your hair, “but I do hope if someone else was to be helping you with this you would at least put some panties on.”

“Aaron…” you giggled, swatting at the hand on your hip. “I had actual clothes on when the guy came to install the dryer.”

“Oh so it’s just me you like to tease?” He smirked, his hand leaving your hair so both of them could trace patterns on the back of your thighs.

“Obviously.” You let out a sigh, your eyes beginning to flutter at the way he massaged your skin, hands creeping up higher under the hem of the shirt, just daring to brush your pussy.

“I think the rest of this can wait.” A steady arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you from the chair once again and he yanked you flush to him, the bulge in his pants apparent against your ass, “now you know just how wild you drive me.”

“Mmhmm….” You nodded, your body relaxing against him, your lips falling open as he started to grope your chest through the thin fabric, pinching your nipples until they were hardened and you were grinding back into him.

“Open your mouth.” His hand softly squeezed around your throat before gliding up and two of his fingers sunk in between your lips.

You sucked the digits deeper into your mouth, tongue swirling around them, coating them with saliva as he slowly thrust them in and out of your lips. With his other hand steady on your hip he backed the two of you up to the center of the living room where the nest of pillows and blankets was still tousled on the ground from your movie night the previous evening.

Aaron’s fingers slipped out of your mouth and you let out a whine in protest, one that he chuckled at as he pulled his shirt off over his head. His hands found the hem of your stolen shirt, tugging it up and off, dropping it to the floor.

“Relax honey.” His dry hand caressed at your cheek, “there’s no chance I’m done with you yet.” He pulled you to him, kissing you deeply, tongue surging into your mouth and you let out a soft moan into the kiss.

The fingers coated in your spit snuck between your bodies, lazily rubbing at your clit while the other one started to toy with your chest. Cupping the flesh, pulling louder moans from you when he started to pinch at your nipples, flicking at them as they hardened in the cool air. His arm wound around you, hoisting you up just enough that your weight was on him as he squatted and gently dropped onto the pile of blankets and cushions before he lay you down on them. His lips broke free from yours and he left a pathway of kisses down your neck, nipping ever so lightly, pulling a breathy sigh from you.

“Aaron…” you whined, “don’t tease.”

“Never would sweetheart.”

His hands smoothed up your thighs, spreading your legs for him before his fingers found your pussy again. They slid through your folds, coaxing out your wetness, smearing it around your pussy, circling around your clit until your chest was heaving and you were nearly panting. His thumbs slid up your pussy, spreading your lips apart and he could see it fully glistening in the low light.

“Such a gorgeous pussy honey.” He cooed, “and who does this pussy belong to?”

“You daddy.”

“Smart girl too.” He smiled softly down at you watching the way your eyes fell shut when he slid two of his fingers into your cunt. “So wet already… have you been thinking about this all day?” He asked, pumping his fingers in and out of you, “waiting for me to come home and find you indecent? Just so I’d fuck you?”

“Yes…” you breathed back, your hand reaching out in search of his free one, fingers interlacing when you found it, his thumb softly stroking over your knuckles. “Wanted to be all ready for you, surprise you.” You were already finding it hard to focus on your words, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as they stretched you out.

“You’re so good for me sweetheart. So thoughtful.” His fingers curled inside you and your breath hitched in your throat, “making sure I have something so gorgeous to come home to… something so sweet.”

With that he shifted onto his stomach, his tongue lapping up the juices around your opening while his fingers continued to twist and scissor inside you. He couldn’t help but groan over your taste, cock twitching in his pants as he shifted up and his mouth latched around your clit.

“Fuck!” You gasped, your hands threading into his hair, holding his face between your legs and you could practically feel the smirk on his lips as electricity sparked through you.

Aaron’s tongue varied between tracing patterns on your pulsing nub and flicking it with the tip, your fingers scraping at his scalp as the pleasure built higher and higher. He picked up the pressure right as his hand picked up the pace, fucking faster into you.

“Oh Aaron…”

Not wanting to let up he merely grunted against you before humming and the vibrations had you gasping, your pussy pulsating around his fingers.

“M’gonna—” You whimpered, feeling the heat about to burst through your veins and his head nodded, rubbing right where you needed it as his fingers curled up, pressing hard on your g-spot and you cried out, “fuck!” Your hips jolted up off the blankets, thighs shaking around him as he gently fingered you through your orgasm.

“That’s it honey…” he cooed, “so fucking pretty for me. Such pretty fucking sounds.”

Your body still trembled, little whimpers and gasps leaving your lips that were heaven to his ears as the aftershocks crashed through you. You were always so gorgeous when you came for him, splayed out on display, legs spread, pussy dripping all because of him, tits swaying as your chest heaved, body coated in a shimmering of sweat, that blissed out look of pure pleasure and desire in your darkened eyes.

He slipped his fingers from you, bringing them up to his lips and he caught the way you tugged your lower lip into your mouth, a greedy look in your eyes as you watched him suck them clean. He nearly made a show of it, groaning before letting them pop from his mouth.

“So fucking sweet.” He praised, “almost wonder what I should do with you next.” He smirked at the way you instantly pouted, letting out a soft whine, “what sweetheart?”

“Need you.”

“Yeah…” his hand came back between your legs, palming at your puffy cunt, “need what? My fingers again?” One slipped in, but only for one thrust, “my mouth? Or something else?”

“Your cock daddy, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Aaron grinned down at you as he shucked his sweatpants off, positioning himself between your legs. His hand wrapped around his cock, thumb smearing the pre-cum around it as he let out a soft groan, “fuck… you always get me so hard.” He thrust his cock through your folds, coating it with your juices, “you feel that honey?”

“Yes…” you whined, your hips rocking towards the touch, “please…”

“Please what?” He raised a brow in your direction as he continued his movement and you whimpered.

“Please fuck me!”

“Good girl.” He leant over you, pressing a kiss to your needy lips as he lined up his hips and his cock sunk into your warmth. You both let out satisfied moans at the sensation, his cock slipping all the way into you until his hips were seated against yours and he could feel your cunt clenching around him already. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Move.. please.” You whined, your arms wrapping around him, nails digging into his back as you pulled him to him.

Aaron kissed the side of your neck gently before pulling back until only the tip was left and he plunged back into you, earning a gasp from you at just how deep he was. Your legs eagerly wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper into you and he made a home in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he started to pant. He set a steady pace, just fast enough to have you shivering and whimpering in his arms but still slow enough to savour it, to make sure you were feeling every inch and every drag of his cock deep in your pussy, to get it wetter with each thrust of his hips.

From the angle he was fucking you, each movement of his body brushed against your clit, the double sensation having you seeing stars already, pleasure tingling under your skin. One of your hands threaded through his hair again, holding him impossibly close as he continued to thrust into you. You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the movement getting larger anytime you let out a particularly loud whine. He loved the way you clenched around him, the sounds you made, knowing he was the one who was making you make them, that he was the only one who could pull sounds like them from you. Each thrust of his hips he could feel the wetness where your bodies met getting larger, the slick around his cock growing, the sounds getting more indecent with every pump.

“Oh god Aaron!” Your nails started to claw at his back, “s-so gg-ood.”

“Always take me so well.” He grunted back, his hips beginning to snap harder and faster into yours, earning a breathy gasp from you as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.

Your pussy was dripping, the squelching noises coming from it echoing through the living room and every time Aaron drove his cock deeper into it you felt new sensations, your entire body tingling, starting to shake with pleasure. The coil was building deep inside you, higher and hotter with each thrust and your eyes scrunched shut, a string of whimpering swears leaving your lips. Aaron groaned loudly into your ear at the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him before his mouth latched onto your neck, teeth sinking in before his tongue lapped over the spot to soothe the burn and his lips began to suck at your sensitive skin.

“Fuck!” You cried out as the trembling in your body blew into a full blown spasm and you hit your peak, pussy clenching down even harder around Aaron as he grunted, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“God sweetheart.” He muttered, kissing your neck before sitting up on his haunches to chase his own release. He picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and faster into you and with just how fucking drenched your cunt was it wasn’t long before he was groaning loudly, his cum spilling into your pussy and he dropped over you again. “Fuck…”

Your finger tips gently tickled up and down his back, your other hand coming to his head, scratching at his scalp as he panted above you and you finally managed to catch your breath. You pressed a tender kiss to the side of his head, letting out a very satisfied hum and in return he let out a breathless huff, leaving a kiss on your collarbone. He pulled his head up, his hand coming to caress the side of your cheek as he left a featherlight kiss on your lips and you smiled up at him.

“You okay?” He murmured.

“Perfect.” You replied, stealing another kiss before he gently rolled off you.

Aaron adjusted a few of the cushions and blankets so you would both be comfortable, pulling a blanket over the two of you as you instinctively curled into his side, resting on his chest. His arm wound around you and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, a small smile on his cheeks as he admired the decorating you’d been doing. The soft light cascading perfectly over the living room for a moment like this.

“You certainly know a thing or two about welcoming a guy home.” He teased and you laughed.

“Figured I could start off strong with what I know you love.” You shifted so you could see his face and he chuckled.

“Well what I love is you, doesn’t matter what form it comes in as long as I get to come home to you every day.”

“You’re a sap, you know that right?”

“Absolutely not.” He grinned back and you playfully rolled your eyes before leaning up to kiss him softly.

“I love you too.”

_______________________

@svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @niyizh @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @ssaaaronhotchnerr @speedynana @tgskitten @madamsnape921 @aaronandemilysbitch @mrs-ssa-hotch @boimlers-gonna-boim @nachofriess @khxna @tinyprettyangel @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @acctualdeemon

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #welcome home #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic

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navybrat817 · 8 months

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Teacher's Pet

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You role-play a bit with Bucky before a costume party. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, role-play, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #6 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Not exactly a costume party with this Stud and Smartie poll winner, but close? @mumbles411, I think you'll appreciate it.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Tonight was Tony's Halloween party and it was the perfect excuse to bring one of Bucky's fantasies to life. Months back, he told you about a particular role-play he wanted to try. You, shockingly, didn’t jump him then and there when you asked him to repeat himself, which he did. Right against the shell of your ear.

"I wanna fuck you while you wear a schoolgirl outfit."

Whatever you want, Stud.

You had to admit to yourself, that particular fantasy sounded like fun. You hadn’t thought about fucking any of your teachers before. Had Bucky actually been one of your professors, however, you would’ve been more than willing to cross a line. Who wouldn’t risk it all for him?

You inspected yourself in your mirror with a soft groan as you twirled. You reassured yourself after a moment that you looked good and Bucky would love your costume, if that's what you'd call it. The soft blue cardigan matched one of the shades in the short plaid skirt, which barely covered your ass. The white button-up exposed your midriff, along with the top of your bra, and the knee-high socks provided the finishing touch.

I look sultry, right? No, innocent. Both? Sulocent? Innotry?

With a deep breath, you pushed your door open and left your room to find him.

Oh, fuck.

You weren't sure if you said the words in your head or out loud as you spotted him standing beside the bookshelf in the living room. Everything went quiet in your mind as his gorgeous eyes met yours, but your heart almost raced out of your chest. Instead of his normal work or casual clothes, he had a tight sweater vest over a nice shirt and tie. The outfit made your massive boyfriend look even larger than normal somehow. He even wore a pair of fake glasses to complete his look.

“Well, look at you,” he said, the corner of his lip tugging in a smile as you bit your lip.

Yeah, look at me.

Something predatory in Bucky’s gaze surfaced as he dragged his eyes down the length of your body. You worried initially that the costume was cliche when there were so many others to choose from, but you felt sexy from the way he looked you over. You could’ve worn a hideous costume and he would’ve managed to find a way to compliment you. Tearing your gaze away to glance at the clock, you realized you had time to have some fun together before you had to leave for the party. At least, you hoped he wanted to fool around.

“Professor Barnes,” you breathed, hoping the next words out of your mouth wouldn’t sound ridiculous as you smoothed out your skirt. “Do you have a few minutes to discuss my paper? I want to make sure it’s perfect before I turn it in.”

You weren’t sure if he wanted to experience a bit of role-play before the party, but you wanted to give it to him if he did. The two of you did your best to please one another and it would be something for him to remember for days to come. You would, too.

And I can play it off if he decides he’s not into it, right?

He pushed himself away from the bookshelf to walk toward you, taking slow and deliberate steps as your breath hitched. “Do you normally violate the dress code when you want to discuss a paper? Not what I expect from my top student,” he said, making you swallow as he brushed a finger along one of the buttons on your top. “Or were you just trying to get my attention?”

“I’m going to a party,” you answered, smiling to yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ll catch someone’s eye.”

Bucky jaw clenched he stepped closer, forcing you to take a step back with wide eyes. “Is that right? Who said you’ll have time to go to this party?” he asked, backing you up until you were in your bedroom again. “If you really want your paper to be perfect, we’ll have to go through it line by line. That could take quite a bit of time.”

You tried to keep your breathing even as your eyes stayed on him, praying you appeared seductive as you walked backwards until your hips met your desk. “A bit of time? That could take all night, Professor,” you protested, lost in his gaze as he pushed a thigh between your legs.

“I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice quiet and deep as he braced a hand on each side of you. How was it possible for you to come undone when he hadn’t actually touched you? “You still want to be my top student, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” you answered as he leaned in, his breath fanning along your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered, not kissing you just yet as you whimpered. Praise from Bucky always spread warmth through your core. “You do want to be my good girl, right?”

A shiver rolled down your spine when he brought his hands up to cup your face. It didn’t matter how he dressed or acted or what games you played. You knew in your heart this was your Bucky, your roommate, your everything. You were his as much as he was yours. So if he wanted you to be his good girl, you’d give him that.

“Yes, Professor,” you whispered.

His mouth hovered over yours before he kissed you, your mouth moving in perfect time with his. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils when you inhaled, the touch and smell of him a sensual assault on your senses. The kiss was deep and thorough, a promise of what was to come. It made your head spin when his tongue brushed against yours, your hands flying up to his shoulders because you feared you’d collapse otherwise.

We really might not make it to the party.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice rough as he backed up enough for you to face your desk. Your body felt hot and needy, desperate as you fell into that familiar pit of need you often found yourself in with him. “And bend over.”

Blood warmed your cheeks as you bent over as instructed, your ass on display. Well, almost. You wore a pair of snug underwear that covered as much of you as possible. No doubt he saw the wet spot that formed and you didn’t have it in yourself to feel embarrassed with how turned on you were.

“I don’t even have to look at your pussy to know how pretty it is,” he said, flipping your skirt up a bit more. “Bet it’ll look even prettier when it’s taking my cock.”

Please, please, please.

“I thought we were going to discuss my paper,” you said, peering over your shoulder.

“We’ll get to that, but I think we should take care of each other first,” he said, making you clench around nothing as he touched your covered slit. “Or was it your goal to make me hard in my pants and go along your way?”

“No, Professor. I wouldn’t tease you,” you promised, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he slid your underwear down to your ankles.

“Of course not because you’re my good girl,” he said, your thighs trembling as he pushed them further apart. “My brilliant, sexy, good girl.”

Your head nearly collapsed against the desk, your eyes squeezing shut. Why did his praise make you feel hot and want to cry at the same time? “I…”

Bucky’s hands froze on your thighs when you sniffled, immediately leaning over you and touching your cheek. “Are you okay? Check in, Smartie. Please,” he said softly.

As if you needed more reasons to love Bucky, the fact that he stopped to make sure you were okay meant the world. “Green, Stud. Very much green. I'm okay. I’m sorry,” you replied after taking a breath, your heart nearly beating out of control. “ The praise just hit me all the sudden. And I just love you so much.”

And here you were trying to do something sexy and fun for him and you ruined the moments with your emotions. The erection in his pants probably faded as soon as you sniffled. Maybe the two of you could leave for the party and try again later.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple where you felt him smile. “First, you don’t need to apologize for getting emotional. Second, I love you, too. So much. And third, we'll only keep going if you want to.”

Your eyes shut, the urge to cry both surfacing again and subsiding at his words. “I didn’t ruin the moment, did I?” you asked in a tiny voice.

“You’d never ruin the moment,” he replied, his lips touching your temple once more as you sighed. “Trust me.”

It was comforting that you could talk to Bucky about what was going on in your head or heart, whether you elaborated or kept it short. Which was why you felt confident again when you opened your eyes and glanced back at him, seeing only love, desire, and something soft in his stare. “In that case, I want you to fuck me bare, Professor.”

Bucky groaned, his soft hair tickling your neck, before he leaned up. He kept a hand on your back like he knew you needed his touch, his other hand quickly working to open his pants. “You think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re at the top of my class?” he asked, easily slipping back into his role. “You think you’ve earned my cock?”

“I can take whatever you give me. And I’ve earned it. I’m your good girl, remember?” you said, your nipples aching through your clothes as he pressed you further into the desk. Fiery shocks and heat went through your body as his finger teased your clit. “Please.”

You whimpered as he moved the digit to your folds, spreading the growing moisture around with a hum. He teased your hole, but didn’t push inside. The slow torture made you quiver and you wondered just how much more begging you had to do.

“Really is a pretty pussy for me to ruin,” he said, finally pushing in with little resistance. Your eyelids fluttered as he slid in and out, but you needed more. “Maybe I should let you go to that party. Send you in there dripping with my seed and show those boys who you belong to.”

“Please, ruin me,” you begged when he pulled his finger out, looking over your shoulder again. He was going to fuck you with the glasses on and the thought had your body going up in flames. Almost as much as the fact that he was stroking his hard cock to the sight of you. “Make me yours, Professor.”

“You’re already mine, baby,” he told you as he lined himself up. “But if I need to come inside you to prove it, so be it.”

You cried out as he thrust into you, the stretch intense and the force hard enough that you had to grip the desk to hold on. Waves of sensations threatened to explode through you at the deep slide of his cock, your body more worked up than you initially thought. You crushed your chest against the hard surface beneath you and you moaned as he pushed in more. There was no doubt in your mind that he was in control.

And you loved every second of it.

“Fuck, I needed this,” he groaned, his hand mapping along your back as you melted under his tender touch. “Should make you ride me wearing this. Put your hands behind your back with my tie.”

His mouth was on your neck in an instant when you moaned, licking and lightly sucking as his hips rocked against yours. The image of you in his lap filled your mind, your hands bound as he helped you bounce up and down on his cock. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he was practically pounding you into your desk and you wondered why you hadn’t worn an outfit like this for him sooner.

“Should keep you under my desk,” he went on, feeling his weight press you down more as he thrust. “Such a smart mouth in class, I know you can use it to keep me warm.”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, trying to push your hips back. He drove harder and deeper, your wet walls on the verge of quivering with bliss. “Please, Professor.”

He chuckled low in your ear, your eyelids fluttering again as you mewled. Your building orgasm threatened to rip through you and you barely registered that you begged for him again. “Already close, aren’t you? And I thought you were a good girl,” he said, his breath hot as he sped up his thrusts. “But bad girls let their professors fuck them bare, don’t they?”

“Y-Yes,” you whined, your eyes starting to roll back when he angled his hips to hit that glorious spot inside you. “Oh- There. There! Please!”

“My good and bad girl,” he grunted, moving faster as you arched your back, needing desperately to come.

“Want you to come in me,” you blurted out, teetering on the edge. Just a bit more and you’d fall. You needed it.

“I’ll come in you when you come for me,” he urged, smiling when he said the words that made you come undone. “You can do it, baby. Make me proud.”

The cry you let out was a decibel you didn’t think you were capable of reaching when you came, succumbing to pleasure as you shivered beneath him. He let out an impressive string of swears as you quivered around him, chasing his end as ecstasy flowed through you. A few more thrusts and he was gone, painting your walls with a growl before he rested his head on the back of your neck, both of you trying to steady your breathing.

You made a sound of protest as he pulled out of you, both because you didn’t want him to leave your body and you didn’t want his release spilling all over the floor. As if he sensed the latter, he pulled your underwear back up your legs. “Hey. I’m here,” he said, carefully guiding you to the bed so you could cuddle together. You were thankful he moved you since you didn’t have the strength to move yourself.

Fuck the party. I can’t walk.

“So,” he said after a minute, letting out a deep breath as he rubbed your back. “You earned an A.”

You giggled when he smiled, the sight making your heart speed up again. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” he sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. You were glad he was satisfied. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Don’t thank me. It was fun for both of us,” you said, tracing a heart on his chest. “The glasses really are a nice touch. You should wear them again.”

“Yeah? You like how I look in these?” he asked, adjusting them on his nose.

“I do. You’re always handsome,” you said, his blue eyes crinkling behind the lenses.

“I like looking good for you,” he said, tilting your chin to give you a soft kiss. “And I’m fucking you at the party.”

Oh, Stud. You know how to make a girl feel special.

“You better,” you said, burrowing yourself closer. “But I need a minute before I try to move, Stud.”

“Whatever you want, Smartie,” he whispered, linking your fingers together as he took your hand. “Whatever you want.”

These two will always have a special place in my heart. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

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andvys · 2 months

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter ten ⭐︎ Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Warnings: slight angst, jealousy, lots of jealousy (from both sides), insecurities, mentions of unrequited love, alcohol and weed consumption

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You agreed to Steve's deal, and now all that you do, is wait by the phone... for his call.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: Things are getting a little more serious now, you can expect a lot of jealousy in this chapter, and in the next two. @hellfire--cult and I came up with some gooood ideas, so enjoy hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Your body feels warm, aching in some places, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling, you welcome it, knowing what or who caused it. You smell his shampoo, his body wash on the pillow your head lies on, you smell his cologne, the one that always makes your heart flutter.

When you slowly open your eyes, you’re not surprised to find him facing away from you, you're met by his sun kissed back.

You blink, still waking up.

You eye the moles on his skin, the scars on his back from where the bats had dragged him away. You wish to touch them, to trace them with your fingertips, to kiss his skin and bless him with better memories, but you can’t. And it’s not like memories of you and your touches would bless him, in any way.

The thing between you, his feelings, his actions are purely driven by lust, nothing more, nothing less. You won’t raise your hopes up, this is bad enough as it is.

What would your teen self think if she saw you now?

What would she say to you if she saw you lying in Steve Harrington’s bed?

The version of you now, is happy, content with what she has, even if she doesn’t actually have him.

But what matters now? Nothing. Just him, just you and him. That’s all that matters now, that’s all that will matter, for now.

Your mind wants to take you back to all those dark places you have been in, to all the feelings you have experienced since Steve had taken a hold of your heart. – Jealousy, rejection, heartache and pain.

And his words from the night before come back to haunt you.

“I see whoever I want and you do… the same.”

You can’t lie to yourself, it did sting a little, it did make your stomach churn, it did make you feel sick to think of him with someone else after being with you, while being with you.

It also hurt to wake up without him, it hurt all day to think that all he did was use you, that he took what he wanted and left. – You never expected the explanation he gave you last night, you also didn’t expect the softness of his hands, the gentle touches and kisses as he told you what really happened. Your chest still aches with guilt for treating him the way you did last night, but you were driven by sadness and you can’t help but feel that he did deserve it… a little.

With a sigh, you turn away from him, pushing the shared blanket off your body, you place your feet on the ground and take a look around his room.

You grip the sheets beneath you, looking at all the items in his room before you look over your shoulder, back at him, back at the pillow you just slept on.

How many girls have occupied this space before?

How many girls has he touched the way he touched you?

How many girls have been kissed by him the same way you’ve been?

You had never kissed anyone the way you kissed him.

You also never touched anyone the same way you touched him.

He is so special to you, but you aren’t to him.

And you never will be.

You grow annoyed with yourself, shouldn’t you be happy? Shouldn’t you be in complete and utter bliss, knowing that he wants you enough to do this?

You close your eyes, and you take a deep breath before you push yourself off the bed.

You shut out your negative thoughts, letting your curiosity in. You tiptoe across his room and stop in front of his bookshelf – that’s filled with more comics and movies than books. A polaroid camera sitting on the shelf, next to a fake plant. Of course, he got himself a fake plant.

The dresser next to the window is decorated with a big lamp and a few pictures that spark your interest. You sneak a glance at him to find him still sound asleep.

You’re not surprised to find pictures of your friends on his dresser, of the teens, of Eddie and Robin, of the whole group. None of you, not even on the group pictures that Jonathan keeps taking whenever you all hang out – that might be your own fault though, you never felt comfortable enough to join the group pictures, you still don’t consider yourself a part of it, even now.

But you can’t help but wonder, would he have cut out the parts of you if you had been on those pictures?

You close your eyes again, taking a deep breath as you’re willing yourself to calm down, to stop overthinking, to stop being so negative when what you got is now finally in reach.

You get to be with him, you get to touch him, you get to feel his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, him. And even when there isn’t any intimacy, even when there aren’t any feelings on his side, you can just pretend, for those little moments, you can pretend.

You open your eyes again, and look around for your clothes that Steve took from your hands last night after you changed into one of his shirts. You find them neatly folded on the chair by his desk, your denim jacket thrown over the back.

It’s time to go home, even when you’d like to stay longer.

You make your way over to your clothes, you stand with your back to him as you take his shirt off, standing in his room in nothing but your panties for a moment. You fold his shirt and place it on his desk, already missing the smell of it and the way it felt to wear something of his.

You don’t even feel his eyes on you as you start putting your clothes on, starting with your bra before you reach for your skirt, you bend down as you put it on, zipping it shut on the side.

Steve is now lying on his back, his right arm behind his head as he watches you, feeling a little disappointed that you are getting dressed and ready to go home.

He watches, and stares at you for as long as he can before you notice him.

He takes in every little scar on your soft skin, the way your hair falls down your shoulders, the way your skin is glowing beneath the stream of light that shines through the curtains.

The moment your top is on and you bend down to put your shoes on, Steve clears his throat.

“Leaving so soon?” Steve’s groggy voice sounds through the silent room.

You freeze at the sound of his voice, the rough noise causing shivers to run down your spine.

Who would’ve thought that you’d ever get to hear Steve Harrington’s morning voice?

You close your eyes as you knit your eyebrows together. You shouldn’t have waited so long to leave. Taking a deep breath, you open your eyes again, and straighten your back as you finish tying the laces of your converse. You plaster a smile on your face before you turn around to face him.

“Figured our little deal doesn’t include coffee and breakfast,” you joke, reaching for your jacket.

Steve’s eyes move up and down your body, before they settle on your neck where the marks on your skin are perfectly visible to him. You hate the way your heart flutters at such a small action of his.

“Says who?”

You try not to stare at him, but it’s hard not to when he looks this good. A tired look in his features, hair all messy, hairy chest on full display. You dig your nails into your denim jacket as your eyes move to his neck, the scar around it always dragging you into a trance like state, as you catch yourself daydreaming about peppering his skin with kisses.

“I dunno,” you shrug, tearing your eyes away from his body and meeting his eyes instead, “I think that’s girlfriend privilege.”

He cracks a smile at your words, eyes flashing with amusement, “didn’t know Eddie was my girlfriend.”

A laugh falls from your lips as you roll your eyes and shake your head.

Eddie stayed over at his place countless of times, ever since those two have gotten closer, ‘sleepovers’ have become a regular thing, especially after a long night of smoking weed and drinking beers in Steve’s backyard. Usually, Eddie just passes out on the couch though, and Steve ends up throwing a random blanket over him.

Just like at your house, Eddie raids Steve’s fridge and snack drawers, all the damn time.

“Well, your girlfriend might be upset if he finds out that you fucked his best friend, last night,” you joke only to grow flustered a few seconds after those words leave your lips.

But, Steve smirks at you, smugness flickering in his eyes.

“Huh,” he pushes himself up on his elbows, running his fingers through his hair, “guess it’s gonna be our dirty little secret then,” he winks.

Dirty little secret.

Yeah, that’s all it will ever be.

That’s all you will ever be.

A dirty little secret.

You gulp, swallowing down the hurt as you nod at his words.

“Yeah…” You scratch the back of your neck before you point to his door, “I’m uh… I’m gonna go.”

His smile falls a little, eyes growing serious as he sits up, the blanket now only covering his lower half.

“I can drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s nice out, I’m just gonna take a walk, maybe stop by the coffee shop or something.”

He nods, still eying you, “a-and are you feeling okay?”

You raise your brows at him, “hmm?”

“I-I mean,” he stutters, awkwardly looking around the room before his eyes meet yours again, “it’s just… the information leaflet said that it can cause some side effects, the Plan B thing… I mean. Nausea, dizziness, upset stomach,” he starts listing the things, counting them down with his fingers as his cheeks flush red.

Your eyes soften, heart fluttering at his concern. You’re even a little taken aback by how much he cares but then again, it might just be the guilt he feels, knowing that he’s partly at fault for this in the first place.

“N-No, I’m okay,” you assure him, watching the way the tension in his shoulders disappears. “I’m feeling fine so far.”

He nods, “okay, good.”

“Yeah, so… I uh…” You trail off, lifting your hand to point at the door again, watching him nod again. You turn on your heel and walk away, not knowing when you will see him again.

You settled on this thing between you, you set up the rules, but what you didn’t talk about was how this whole thing will actually play out.

Just as you open the door, his voice makes you halt in your tracks, you turn your head to look back at him, giving him a questioning look.

“Hey Blondie?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we gonna… hang out later?”

Hang out.

You almost want to giggle.

You tap your nails against the door, eying the smug, yet flustered look on his face as he looks at you expectedly.

“Yeah,” you nod. “You can call me.”

He tilts his head to the side, licking his lips, “mhm, or you can call me,” he smirks, almost mockingly.

“Sure.”

Neither of you called.

In fact, there is nothing but radio silence between the two of you, the moment you leave his house.

And, it frustrates you to no end, because all you want to do is to see him, to feel him again, but all you get is absolutely nothing. And, it only makes you more insecure, it only fills you with more self doubt.

If he wanted you, he would’ve called.

Right?

You thought he’d call by Monday night, he didn’t.

You spent all Tuesday, waiting for the phone to ring, but it never did.

You could’ve called too, he even told you to, but for some reason, you thought that it was just another way to tease you, you heard the mocking tone in his voice, you saw the smirk he looked at you with.

And yet, you picked up the phone a few times with the intention to just call him and ask him to come over but you slammed the receiver back into place every single time. It didn’t feel right to make the first move, every time you tried to, rejection followed. And even though he was the one who offered you the deal, you still couldn’t bring yourself to make a first move, no matter what had already happened between you both.

It’s only Wednesday now, it’s only been two days since you had last seen him, and yet it feels like you haven’t seen him in weeks.

It makes you frustrated and sad at the same time, but unlike yesterday, you can’t mop around in your bedroom all day, waiting by the phone like some lovesick teenager.

And you can’t show your sadness either, you can’t let your best friend know what kind of war you’re fighting in your head.

Steve is your secret and you are his.

His dirty little secret.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Eddie asks as he’s scarving down the burgers and fries he brought from the diner, his new friend works at. He’s been spending a lot of time there, lately.

You push around the fries on your plate, the cheeseburger only halfway eaten.

“I’m just a slow eater,” you shrug, dipping a fry into the ketchup before you take a bite.

Eddie’s brown eyes flash with amusement, “mhm, except for when you’re high.”

“That’s another version of me, Eds.”

“Uh huh,” he chuckles, taking another bite of his burger, the bite being large enough to make half of it disappear.

You chuckle, flipping your hair over your shoulder, you place your elbow on the kitchen table, continuing to eat your fries. You look out the window, eying the gray clouds in the sky and the wind in the trees, a storm is nearing and it’s making your stomach churn and your skin crawl.

You have always hated storms, the heavy wind that howls through the night, the strong rain that hits the windows harshly, thunder that makes you flinch after every crash and the lightning has always made you feel uneasy.

You hated being left alone in this house during thunderstorms, but your parents were gone, and your sister was rarely ever around at nights, so you had to find ways to calm yourself down, usually you did it by putting on headphones and turning the volume up high enough to drown out the noises of the storm outside, it helped. Music always helped.

But the night in the Upside Down changed everything, which is ironic, you always thought that an extreme situation would have killed your fear, but it didn’t, it only worsened it, and now not even music helps anymore.

“Are you gonna stay for a while?”

Eddie raises his brows as he reaches for his drink, eying your face.

You know he can read you, you know that he can see right through you. He is one of the only ones who can – and it scares you. Not because you don’t want him to know about your fears or your struggles, there is really nothing that you hide from him at this point… Nothing but that one thing, that one thing that no one can know about, not even Eddie.

“Yeah, I thought we could watch a movie, I brought some,” he points in the direction of the hallway, where he left some tapes on the counter.

You nearly sigh out loud, feeling relieved.

You wouldn’t want to be alone right now.

Thunder crashes in the distance, not loud enough to make you flinch, but enough to fill you with dread.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile before you look out the window again, continuing to watch the clouds move, missing the way his eyes widen and the way he nearly chokes on his soda as he stares at your neck, at the marks you forgot to cover up before he came over.

“What the hell!”

The volume of his voice makes you flinch harder than the loud thunder that just crashed before the yell escaped his lips. You look back at him, bewildered, only to find him staring at your neck, already jumping from his seat and rounding the table to get to you.

You’re confused for a moment, staring at him with a frown, but when he stops in front of you, and he lifts your hair up to take a closer look at your neck, at the hickeys Steve had left, you nearly gasp yourself.

How could you have been so stupid?

How could you forget to cover them up?

Eddie stares at them for a moment, for a really long moment, before his confused eyes meet yours, “who gave these to you!?”

You can’t give him the truth, Steve would certainly break things off with you if you did – if he hasn’t already.

Blood rushes to your cheek the longer your best friend stares at you, waiting for an explanation.

“I uh… I had a uh… booty call?”

This would normally be the moment, where he’d laugh in your face, knowing that this is a lie. But he is too surprised to look deeper into your eyes.

“This is the first time I know you actually had sex, and you didn’t plan to tell me!?” He lets go of your hair, stepping back and throwing his arms up.

“It’s nothing special!” You lie, your eyes following him as he returns back to his seat, “h-he was just, he’s a guy that’s here because of a friend! I met him once at one of my sister's college parties…”

He is still in shock, his eyes are still glued to your neck.

“What’s his name?”

You swallow, placing your hands into your lap, you dig your nails into your palms, taking deep breaths as you try to appear calm.

“Why do you care, you don’t know him.”

“Exactly,” he smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, “so what’s the issue in telling me?”

He is now looking at your flustered face, and you are glad that he can’t actually read your mind, or else you’d be screwed as you’re trying to figure out a name to give him.

“...Chandler…”

His eyes grow wide, smirk falling a bit. He uncrosses his arms, reaching for his drink again as he sighs, “now I understand why you didn’t want to tell me his name.”

You clear your throat, the tension in your body dissolving a little.

“Uh huh…”

“So how was it?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

It was… perfect.

Yeah, your nights with Steve were the best moments of your life. He made you feel things you have never felt before. He made you feel alive yet like you existed in some other world, a better place.

As you look into your best friend's eyes, you realize that now is the perfect opportunity to let it all out, to tell him things that you’ve been wanting to get off your shoulders, because maybe then, this will get easier for you. Maybe.

So you open your mouth and you start talking, without mentioning Steve’s name or anything else that could give you and him away.

You talk and you talk, and you get carried away, and yet, nothing eases the ache in your stomach or the one in your chest.

Just nothing.

If anything, talking about it makes it all only worse because it somehow strengthens every memory of him.

And, your memories are a blessing and a curse at the same time, they take you back to his kisses, to his lips that sucked marks on your skin, they remind you of how it felt to feel him inside of you, to hear him moaning your name, to feel him holding you close, to know that he felt good because of you.

But then, they also take you back to an unpleasant memory, and you can’t even stop yourself from thinking about it, not even as you sit before Eddie, not even as you both make your way into the living room to watch the movies he picked out, and surprisingly, not even the storm can stop the thoughts in your head.

“I see whoever I want and you do… the same.”

His words keep echoing in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder, is he already seeing someone else?

Is he touching someone else?

Is he kissing someone else?

Is he feeling good because of someone else?

Is he moaning someone else’s name as he had long forgotten about you?

Is that the reason why he never called?

He wouldn’t, would he? It’s only been two days.

He wouldn’t sleep with someone else… not so soon, at least, right?

Days and sleepless nights haunt you, just like the questions that keep piling up inside your troubled mind, it makes you feel restless.

There is nothing but Steve on your mind and it’s nothing new, but it feels different now after what had happened between you and him.

You long for him, your body yearns for him but you stay away, because maybe this is what he wants, days have passed and he didn’t call or come to see you, surely it must be what he wants, maybe he changed his mind about the deal, about you.

You’re proven wrong when you find yourself at Eddie’s pool ‘party’ on Friday afternoon, five days after you had walked out of Steve’s house.

The sun is shining, not a single cloud in sight, not a single trace of the storm that had crashed over the town only two days back.

The heat is beating down on your skin, but it’s a pleasant feeling as you lie on one of the pool loungers between Nancy and Max. Your sunglasses perched on your nose, hair falling down your shoulders as you keep adjusting it every few seconds or so, hoping that no one else will see the marks Steve left behind, you had done your best to cover them with makeup but that didn’t stick to your skin long enough, one jump into the pool and the layer was gone.

His eyes are glued on you and your pink bikini, and you can’t help but feel smug, despite all the insecurities that have lingered all week. You keep biting back your smirk whenever you catch him staring, and you watch how his cheeks flush red and he grows flustered before he hides it with his own smirk and a cocky look on his face.

You’ve greeted each other the way you always do, with suggestive smiles and cryptic words that only you two understand the meaning behind.

You haven’t talked much since he came though, but you keep brushing past each other, eying one another with that one look in your eyes when your hands reach out to touch each other, even if only for a short second.

Now you keep glancing at him, waiting for him to finally take his stupid white shirt off, but he seems content, standing in the shadows with a beer in his hand as he chats with Eddie.

“I missed this,” Nancy says, “tanning and not worrying about a single thing.”

You tear your eyes away from Steve and turn to look at her. Nancy is wearing a blue swimsuit, her curls in a messy bun, white framed sunglasses protecting her eyes from the scorching sun. You can’t help but stare at her, eying the girl that you once were so jealous of.

Nancy is beautiful, effortlessly so. She’s got those pretty doe eyes and the luscious curls that frame her face so perfectly. She’s a pretty sight to look at – you’re surprised to see that Steve’s eyes aren’t glued on her.

But her beauty was never the reason for your jealousy.

“Yeah, me too,” you murmur as you reach for the cocktail Eddie had made for you.

“I don’t know how you can enjoy it,” Max mumbles beside you, and you can’t help but chuckle, you’ve been waiting for her to start complaining. “I’m gonna look like a tomato if I keep sitting out here.”

You push your sunglasses up into your hair, watching as she gets up from the lounger.

You chuckle at her.

“I’m jumping into the water, I’m sick of the sun.”

She storms off, flipping her red hair over her shoulder before she jumps into the pool, joining Lucas, Mike and Will.

You sip on your cocktail, eyes moving back to Steve, just in time to see him finally taking his shirt off. He throws it over one of the chairs by the table, and lifts his hand up to run it through his hair, flexing his bicep as he turns his body to you as he steps into the sun.

You dig your teeth into the straw as you let your eyes roam his body. The hair on his chest, the scars on his sides, the scar around his neck, all looking so beautiful under the light. You see the smirk on his lips when he catches you ogling him, and you don’t even bother to hide it, to look away and play it cool.

But your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull and you almost choke on the sip you just took when Eddie’s eyes grow comically wide as he takes a look at Steve’s back. Your best friend’s jaw drops before a gasp falls from his lips.

You don’t need to think twice about what’s gotten him this shocked, you left marks on Steve, just like he left some on you – but yours are more aggressive.

While it’s only hickeys on your skin, it’s scratch marks on his.

Your heart jumps a little when you realize that Eddie could easily put two and two together and figure out that you didn’t sleep with Chandler or that Steve didn’t fuck Heidi – that they weren’t the ones who left marks on yours and his skin.

But before Eddie can even ask him any questions, he’s suddenly hit with a forceful stream of water coming from Dustin’s water gun. A different kind of gasp tears from his lips, and his face flashes with confusion before a deadpan expression takes over as he looks down at himself, water now dripping from his face, hair and his shoulders.

He looks around, searching for the culprit when he finds Dustin, hiding behind one of the bushes.

“You little shit!” He yells as he puts his beer on the table, he grabs one of the water guns, filling it up with water before he runs towards Dustin, who instantly jumps away from the bushes and runs into the opposite direction.

Steve shakes his head at them, watching them run around in the backyard, almost running into El, Robin and Vickie, who are in the middle of a little photo shoot with poor Jonathan – who hates being out in the sun, especially for this long.

You are still playing with your straw as you eye the male who stole your heart and your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” Nancy asks as she sits up, reaching for her own cocktail before she turns to face you, forcing you to look away from her ex boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

With a small smile on her face, she tilts her head to the side as she looks at you. You notice how red her cheeks have gotten, but you don’t know whether it’s because of the sun or the question she is about to ask.

She looks down, eyeing your necklace and the pink bikini top that she complimented before.

You stare at her curiously.

You and Nancy aren’t the closest, you get along, you talk whenever you see each other, there is never any awkwardness between the two of you, but still, you aren’t the closest.

“I know we haven’t talked much, but um… I was wondering– cause… I love Robin, seriously but– okay um…” she stutters, closing her eyes for a moment as she shakes her head before she opens her eyes again and looks back up, “I was gonna ask if you would like to go shopping with me?”

You're stunned.

With widened eyes, you stare at her, taking in the sight of her nervous face, cheeks growing redder when she’s met by your silence.

“Why me?”

“Like I said… I love Robin but her style… she always complains it's too girly when I show her something I want to buy,” she rolls her eyes as a smile tugs at her lips, “and you… you always look good, I love your skirts and dresses.”

Your eyes soften, blood rushes to your cheeks at her compliment.

You and Nancy have something in common, it was the reason why you started talking in the first place, after she find out who Chrissy was to you, she approached you, she offered you her condolences – she had a deep understanding in what it’s like to lose a close friend, she lost hers too.

You both lost that one girl friend.

“Thanks, Nancy. I’d love to go shopping with you.”

You watch the way her eyes light up, and you can’t help but feel surprised that someone like her feels excitement because of someone like you.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you say as a smile appears on your face.

“Cool,” she smiles at you, unable to hide the giddiness in her voice.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you ladies, but would you like me to take a picture of you, before I drop the camera and never pick it up again today?” Jonathan asks as he stops in front of the two of you, with cheeks glowing red, thanks to the sun, and an exhausted look on his face, thanks to the three girls that forced him to be their photographer for the past hour or so.

Nancy giggles at her boyfriend.

“Sure, let's take a pic!”

First she wants to go shopping with you, and now she wants to take pictures with you. You can’t lie to yourself and act like it doesn’t touch your heart a little.

You hide your eyes behind the sunglasses again, not wanting to give away just how surprised you are by all of this.

You lean closer to her, holding your drink up a little as you smile into the camera – not feeling his eyes on you.

Steve is unaware of the smile that tugs at his lips as he watches you pose and smile next to Nancy, a giggle falling from your lips when Nancy whispers something to you. You lean even closer, wrapping your arm around the other girl as you grin into the camera.

Something bubbles in Steve’s chest, a feeling he can’t make out, but suddenly, he wishes that he was the one next to you, that he could be the one taking a picture with you.

He could. He could be the one, if he asked for it.

But how would that make him look?

What would you think of that?

You would certainly laugh at that and tease him, right?

He sighs and looks away from you when you’re done taking pictures, only to find Lucas staring at him, a smug look on his face as he wiggles his brows at him.

Steve clenches his jaw, rolling his eyes at the boy, he lifts his hand, pointing at him, “don’t even.”

Lucas smirks, swimming closer to the edge of the pool, “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Uh huh.”

Steve doesn’t even hear the footsteps behind him, focused on the boy in front of him.

“It’s so cute how you keep checking out your girlfriend,” Lucas giggles.

Steve runs his hand down his face, groaning, “she’s not my… listen you little shit–”

“God,” Dustin appears next to him, no water gun in his hand any longer, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath after running around the backyard.

Steve turns his head to look at him, but Dustin’s eyes are glued on Nancy, thinking that she was the one he was checking out.

He’s got it all wrong, so so wrong.

“Gotta let her go, man. I don’t know how many times–”

Steve rolls his eyes, he takes a step back and places his hands on Dustin’s back, shoving him into the pool.

He shrieks loudly before he goes down, the water splashes around him, tearing laughs out of Steve, Lucas and Max when the teen resurfaces, gasping and glaring at him. He grabs his cap that is now floating around in the water.

“My cap! You got it wet!” He shrieks again.

Max laughs at him, “you’re so dramatic, nerd.”

Steve is laughing, enjoying the shocked expression on Dustin’s face, when he feels a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Hi Stevie,” you purr into his ear.

Shivers run down his spine, an exciting feeling bubbling in his stomach as he turns around to face you, a smirk already tugging at his lips when his eyes meet yours.

You look at him innocently, tilting your head to the side as you flash him a smile.

“Hi blondi–”

You mimic his action, and push him into the water the way he did to Dustin.

“Hah!” Dustin laughs in triumph, pointing at Steve with a smug look on his face before he looks at you, “thank you, you’re much cooler!”

“Told you she is,” Max shrugs at him, making you laugh.

Mike and Will laugh at your action.

Steve flips his hair, turning to face you with a groan that quickly turns into a wince as he holds his hand in front of his left eye, scrunching his nose up in pain.

Your smile quickly falls and you take a step closer as he starts swimming back to the edge.

“Shit!” He curses, still holding his hand up, “chlorine got way into my fucking eye!”

You bend down as he swims closer, concern flashes in your eyes, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the smug basketball player next to Dustin, or Will who always watches closely when you’re around Steve.

“Fuck, Lego head…” you murmur as you reach your hand out to cup his cheek, “let me see–”

Suddenly, Steve lunges forward, using the hand that just hid his eye to grab yours, he opens both eyes and greets you with a smirk before he pulls you into the water.

Of course you fell for it.

You shut your eyes and hold your breath before your body hits the cold. The water envelopes your whole body, shocking it a little after spending the past few hours lying under the sun.

You swim back up, only to be met by a laughing Steve who stares at you smugly.

The teens are laughing behind you.

“Ha ha…” You splash some water at the male in front of you, making him laugh even harder.

“Come on, Blondie,” Steve chuckles, biting his lip as he swims closer to you, “that was fair.”

You swim back, putting some distance between you both while he tries to close it, playing a dangerous game out here, in front of everyone to see.

Your stomach flutters when his eyes roam the parts that aren’t hidden beneath the water. A lust filled look flashing in his hazel eyes as he continues staring at you like some hungry animal.

God, you can’t do this, not here, not now.

You turn away from Steve, stretching your arms out beneath the water, and trying to swim away from him, away from the teens who aren’t even looking between the two of you anymore, more focused on Argyle who’s yelling at them to come out of the water to play soccer.

You swim to the other side of the pool and Steve follows, he’s not even bothered by all the eyes that could follow, though he still looks around to make sure that no one’s watching.

You enjoy the coldness of the water, desperately needing it after being under the weight of his eyes. Not even the sun could fill you with such warmth that his looks fill you with.

You stop swimming when you feel the ground beneath you again. Sighing as you reach your hands out to hold onto the edges when you suddenly feel his hand on your butt.

You gasp in surprise, blood rushing to your face as your eyes widen.

He presses his chest against your back, chuckling at the gasp that fell from your lips. He squeezes your ass roughly.

“Steve!” You nearly shriek, looking around in panic.

Nancy and Jonathan are now sitting in the shadows, sitting close to each other as they talk.

The teens are now playing soccer with Argyle.

Robin and Vickie now cozied up on the pool loungers as they listen to Eddie, who’s telling them a story, dramatically as it seems, he keeps throwing his arms up.

“Relax,” He whispers into your ear, letting his fingers dig into your skin one more time before he hooks his finger around the string on your bottoms, fingers tracing the bow that you tied before he snaps the material back against your skin, “no one’s watching,” he says so confidently, though he missed one pair of eyes when he looked around at your friends.

He swims around you so he can see your flustered face, he smirks at you as he leans his back against the wall, eying you up and down.

You blink, trying to hide the shock in your features, your heart still racing at his action.

“Why didn’t you call?” You blurt out.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, eyes lighting up at your question, his smirk widens as he reaches for your hand under water, trying to pull you closer after looking over your shoulder, but you don’t budge, despite the fluttering in your heart, you don’t budge.

“Why didn’t you?” He retorts.

Because every time you wanted to, reminders of your past would come to haunt you.

You clench your jaw, and look down, instead of answering the question he threw right back at you, without giving you the explanation that you wanted.

If he wants to keep playing games, then so be it.

You push his hand away from yours, despite longing for more. You take a step forward, and lift your head, plastering a confident look on your face as you reach your hand out to hook your finger around the elastic band on his swim trunks, making him gulp.

“I was satisfied,” you shrug, lying right through your teeth.

He chuckles, licking his lips as he looks around, trying not to react to your touch, to your nails grazing his skin.

“Right, Blondie.”

You tilt your head at him, “what, you think you’re so irresistible, Lego head?” You ask, as you bring your hand back to your side and put some distance between you both again.

He shakes his head at you, smiling in amusement, “oh, you wanna continue this little back and forth then, huh?” He points between you both.

His spitcurl falls in front of his eyes, drops of water roll down his cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to follow those drops and watch as they fall down to his chest.

You don’t, but if it will keep him interested, then you are willing to do anything.

So you say, yes.

You keep playing the game, you keep teasing him, all day.

Whether you give him suggestive looks or tease him with the way you suck on the straw as you drink one cocktail after another, you bend down in front of him and touch him whenever no one is looking.

You play with him, just like you did before.

And it drives him crazy, you know it, you can see it – the fire behind his eyes only growing stronger and brighter, it’s what spurs you on.

When the teens are gone, Argyle and Eddie finally roll up some joints, Steve lights up the fire in the pit and Jonathan gets some more drinks from the fridge.

You all sit beneath the starry sky, the fire now lighting up the space around you, as music and laughter sounds through Eddie’s backyard.

You sit between Robin and Eddie, sipping on your fourth drink, your mind now hazy enough for you to let loose completely, giggling at anything your best friend whispers into your ear. You don’t even notice the sour looks you’re getting from the one who is sitting across from you.

Argyle and Robin are in some deep discussion about sex and relationships, the girl keeps scoffing at anything that leaves his lips.

Nancy and Jonathan watch the little banter unfold with amused looks on their faces.

“I’m just saying, I’m not even speaking out of experience, dude,” Argyle slurs, holding his hands up in surrender, “I think you can’t have sex with just one person and be happy with it – how can you even know what’s good when you’ve only been with one person!?”

Robin’s eyes roll far back as a frustrated groan escapes her.

“That is such a man thing to say!” She mumbles, tugging at her hair.

“It really is,” Vickie nods.

“You know, I actually kind of agree,” Nancy shrugs, taking a sip of her beer.

“With who?” Robin asks, tilting her head at the girl.

While everyone looks at Nancy, waiting for the answer, you look at Steve, watching him watch her.

“With Argyle.”

Steve’s eyes widen for a moment, and he quickly looks away from her and down at the joint between his fingers, he raises it up towards his mouth and places it between his lips.

You saw it, the flash of hurt, the pain behind his dark eyes.

And you can’t help but feel a pang of your own hurt, knowing how much he still mourns his past with her, how much it still hurts him that she isn’t his anymore, that he couldn’t make her happy, that he couldn’t make her feel the way Jonathan makes her feel.

“Oh wow,” Robin murmurs, looking down wide eyed.

“You gotta experiment!” Argyle says as she takes a look around, “as long as you’re single and you’re not hurting anyone, go around and have fun.”

Steve’s eyes find yours and he holds contact for a moment.

“Mhmm, I agree.” You nod. “But I think when you have that one person that you're deeply attracted to, both sexually and romantically, you can still have a lot of fun, you can experiment together and like, what do you need other people for when you have these types of feelings? You won’t get bored with that person.”

“Thank you!” Robin claps her hands together, “that’s what I’m talking about!”

“But, as long as you don’t have that person, you can just… experiment and have fun with others if you feel like it,” you shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

Steve’s eyes are glued on you, a weird feeling tugging in his chest.

"Oh, really?" Your best friend smirks at you, leaning forward in his seat, he places his elbows on his knees, “and how many people have you experimented with?” He wiggles his brows, ‘knowing’ about the very recent one.

Suddenly, all eyes are on you, all filled with curiosity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Argyle groans at you, and so does Eddie, while the others chuckle.

Steve, who watches you, not even expecting any other answer than ‘two guys’, knows about Billy and, well, himself. He passes the joint over to Robin and reaches for his beer instead.

“Come on, it’s a tight little circle, no secrets leave this,” Robin gestures to the group, “how many hearts did you break?”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, tugging the blanket closer to your body.

“Well, I have never broken any hearts before,” you start, avoiding his eyes, “but uh… there have been a… few… guys.”

You miss the way Steve freezes, the way he holds his beer midair as he was just about to take a sip from the can.

“Give us the number girl!” Eddie complains.

If you weren’t so tipsy, you would have probably felt much more flustered, beneath all the gazes.

With a sigh, you lean back in your chair, and look at your best friend, “fine… eight.”

Eddie gasps, his brown eyes grow so wide that it makes you laugh.

It’s truly a tragedy that you didn’t look at Steve, you would have seen the shocked and the very upset look on his face after that revelation.

“Holy shit!” Robin laughs in surprise, “I-I would’ve never thought! N-Not that it’s a bad thing of course, it’s just, you’re so… reserved!” She turns to look at Steve, also missing the look on his face, “look at you, you both have something in common!”

“Wow,” Jonathan slurs, dragging out the word, “good for you, grumpy.” He holds his drink up at you.

Nancy’s eyebrows are furrowed, her lips pursed as she looks at you in question, “so… are they like… all from Hawkins?”

“Oh no, no…” You shake your head, now catching a glimpse of Steve who stares at you with an unreadable look on his face. “My sister invited me to college parties, and we uh… went out to bars in Indianapolis, it was just one night stands… nothing deep, really.”

“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, “I didn’t know you were so wild.”

While everyone seems to be very entertained by your sex life, Steve can’t help but feel irritated by it, despite not knowing any of the details yet.

“How many were from Hawkins?” Nancy asks.

“Just uh… one.”

Despite the bitterness on his tongue, he can’t help but smirk, knowing that he is the one, pride swelling inside of him.

“Do we know him?” Robin asks and Steve nearly chuckles, but then you say something that makes the smirk drop again.

“Um no, I don’t think so… I mean, he went to our school, but was like two years older? He was the captain of the football team.”

Vickie’s eyes widen, but she bites her tongue, while Robin furrows his brows, trying to figure out who it was.

Nancy and Jonathan glance at each other, furrowing their brows.

And, Steve… Oh, Steve is really not having the best time tonight. He knows exactly who you mean, Jacob Leeney.

In his King Steve era, he always considered him his rival.

While he was the captain of the basketball team, Jacob was the captain of the football team, and both of them were on the swim team, competing with each other to steal another number one spot. The girls loved him just as much as they loved Steve, if not more. Unlike him, who brought out the asshole side of himself to woo the girls, Jacob was nice to them, a real ‘sweet’ gentleman who used his plastered kindness to get his latest conquest in his bed.

He can’t believe you were one of his girls.

He can’t believe you fucked this many people in general, let alone Jacob fucking Leeney.

“You fucked Jacob!?” Eddie jumps up, “when!?”

You’re a little confused by the anticipation in his features, like there’s more he wants to ask, like there’s more that he knows.

“Uh… last year?”

“It was you!” He laughs loudly, pointing his ringed finger at you, “Fuck, Jacob. Holy shit, sweetheart, are you that good?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Steve clenches his jaw, glaring daggers at Eddie.

“What?” You chuckle, confused.

“I was outside and he approached me after making me wait for like forty minutes to sell him weed as he had asked, and he just went ‘sorry man, I just had the best head and fuck of my life.’”

Steve feels nausea rising up to his throat, blood rushing to his cheeks from the irritation that grows inside of him. He stares at you, unable to tear his eyes away, and right now, he can’t tell whether he wants to drag you out of here and fuck you in his car to show you that he’s the best you’ve ever had or just leave by himself as the anger inside of him grows and grows.

Pictures of you and Jacob flash in his mind, making him clench his jaw and holding the can tighter, bending it a little.

Did you moan for Jacob the same way you did for him?

Did you cling to his body too?

Did you beg him for more?

“How do you even know it was me, Eddie!?”

“Was it at Caroline’s house?”

“Doesn’t prove it’s me–”

“November 3rd.”

Silence fills the air around you all.

“Oh shit, it was me…”

Nancy giggles at you and at the flustered expression on your face.

“Looks like you got some competition, Steve,” Robin laughs, slapping her best friend’s shoulder, “we got a fuckboy and a fuckgirl in this round.”

“I’m not a fuckgirl–”

“Sure you’re not, Blondie,” Steve says a little too harshly, “just that you fucked eight guys!”

And he wonders if you’re still doing that, if you’re still fucking others, even now.

The smug look on your face tells him that you do – is that the reason why you didn’t call? Because you had someone else who entertained you when he didn’t?

The thought fills him with anger and he doesn’t even know why.

You can do whatever you want, whoever you want.

He was the one who set up that rule.

If you do fuck others, maybe he should too.

“So?” You shrug at him, smirk tugging at your lips as you finally look at him.

He clenches his jaw, squinting his eyes at you.

You’re a little taken aback by the very obvious anger in his features, and yet, you can’t help but get distracted by how good he looks under the orangey glow of the fire.

“Aw, are you jealous that someone could beat your score?” Argyle laughs, wiggling his brows at Steve.

“Yeah, Steve,” Robin smirks, “how many girls did you fuck?”

You watch him curiously but you already know that no number will surprise you. Steve was or maybe he still is a real fuckboy, maybe not the rough kind, but still.

He clears his throat, looking around awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck, before his eyes settle on you.

“Well, Blondie and I are actually on the same score.”

And here you thought you wouldn’t be surprised, you expected more from him.

Eddie laughs beside you, “are you playing in the same league though? What popular chick did you bang?”

Now that is something you don’t really want to know about. It’s not that you’re not curious about it, you just don’t want to deal with any more insecurities.

But Steve doesn’t bite his tongue, he could look at anyone right now, he could look at Eddie, who had asked him the question in the first place, but instead, he looks right at you.

“Jennifer Mitchell.”

Oh.

You have to bite your lip to stop your jaw from dropping.

You heard all about Jennifer Mitchell, Billy told you everything you… didn’t even want to know. The girl wasn’t exactly popular in school, but she was known… for one or two things.

Steve gives you a smug look, and you can’t even hold back from rolling your eyes at him.

“And the scratch marks?” Eddie asks, smirking. “Was that Heidi?”

You look down, pressing your lips together.

“What scratch marks!?” Robin gasps.

Steve clears his throat, running his fingers through his hair, panic settling in his gut.

Robin knows all about Heidi, and she knows that the girl isn’t capable of rough sex.

Maybe the alcohol in her system and another made up lie of his, will satisfy her though, so he tells her that Heidi changed, that she is now… experimenting. And he relaxes a bit, when she starts asking other questions, ones that aren’t about Heidi.

You don’t sit there and listen for long, not wanting to know the details about his times with other girls. You can’t stand it, so you pick up your empty glass and get up to walk into the house, ‘in need of another drink.’ But you only place the glass on the kitchen counter and stand there for a few minutes, staring at the alcohol bottles.

The jealousy that you feel is nothing new, you felt it countless times before, but it’s so much more intense now, because before last weekend, you never had him.

Now you kind of do, and it’s not a pleasant feeling to hear all about his sex life, to wonder if he’s still seeing others – you’ve been overthinking about it enough this week already.

You hear your friends laughing, and you wonder what else Steve had told them that is so funny.

You roll your eyes and push yourself away from the counter, leaving the kitchen and making your way upstairs and into the direction of the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself.

You turn on the light in the darkened room, but just as you’re about to step inside, you hear footsteps behind you. You turn around to see Steve walking towards you, with a look on his face that you can’t make out, right now.

You tilt your head to the side, plastering a confident smile on your lips, “miss me already?”

He catches you off guard when he places his hands on your waist and pushes you further into the bathroom, he closes the door behind him and locks it.

Beneath the bright lights, you can see his eyes much better, they’re dark as they stare directly into yours. His hair somehow still looks perfect, despite being in the pool all day and constantly running his fingers through it, it looks just as good as always. His nose and his cheekbones are red from being out in the sun, he’s wearing a flannel, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, the top buttons undone. You have to swallow harshly when you eye the chest hair and his sun kissed skin that peeks through, you have to tear your eyes away but he looks so… good. You can’t help yourself.

Steve lets go of your waist, he crosses his arms over his chest, his face hardens.

“So eight huh?”

You lift your brows, surprised at his question, you didn’t think that this is what he came here for.

“What’s to it?”

“Am I number eight, Blondie?”

“No,” you smirk, “number nine.”

His jaw clenches a little, he blinks slowly as he glares into your eyes a little.

“What is it, King Steve?” You ask, reaching your hand out, you place your finger on his chest, dragging it down a bit, “afraid I have more experience than you? Cause trust me… that is entirely true.”

He chuckles at you, shaking his head, “you wish.”

“I don’t have to wish,” you shrug, “but do tell, am I your number eight?”

“Nah,” he whispers as his eyes flicker to your hand, to your fingertips that trace the exposed skin beneath his flannel, he gulps, trying not to show how your touch makes him feel, “you’re my number nine too.”

“Uh huh,” you murmur.

You wonder how many girls he had been with after Nancy left him.

You wonder when Jennifer happened, before or after her.

“You know, you kinda flinched a little at the mention of Jennifer,” Steve says with a very amused voice.

“Nope,” you shrug, looking at him innocently, “just surprised you would fuck her, that’s all.”

“Well… she certainly knew what she was doing,” he says, testing the waters to see how you will react.

“And what exactly did she do, Harrington?”

“I’ll keep that to myself.”

The smile on his lips and the prideful look in his eyes sparks your anger, the one that’s been brewing inside of you, all week. Yet somehow, the sadness and your insecurities were stronger than the raging emotion that now takes control of you, alongside the deep jealousy that pushes you to do something that you have been craving all fucking day.

You throw aside all your thoughts, all your worries, and you take the leap.

You place your hands against his chest, watching the way his smile falls as surprise lights up in his hazel eyes. You slam him against the wall next to the door that he just locked, you grab his face and pull him down, smashing your lips against his.

Steve gasps against your lips, and you can’t help but feel excitement rushing through you. He melts against you so quickly, and so easily. He cups your cheeks and kisses back just as roughly.

No matter how fast his lips move against yours, he isn’t the one in control today, and he knows it, he can feel it… and to his surprise, he doesn’t mind it.

You press your tongue against his bottom lip, and he wastes no second to let you slip it into his mouth. He presses his palm against your cheek, moaning when you deepen the kiss further.

You get lost in it, just the way you did the first time and the second time. You get so lost in his kiss that nothing around you matters anymore – not your friends who could come looking for you both any minute, not your jealousy that makes you seethe, not the fact that he isn’t yours. Nothing matters, only he does.

He keeps moaning against your lips and as you press your chest against his and you feel him against your stomach, you can’t help but moan too.

It takes everything in you not to drop to your knees and use your mouth to worship him, just the way you had always wanted to.

Not yet, you tell yourself.

You throw your arms around his neck and let your fingers get lost in his hair, tugging at it as you keep your hands busy, so you don’t give into your lust and slide your palm down his stomach and into his pants.

You can feel that he tries to take control but you don’t let him and the moment you press your thigh between his legs, he’s done for, he stops trying to fight for dominance. A whimper falls from his lips as they stop moving against yours for a moment, stunned by your little move.

His hands fall from your face down to your waist, holding onto it tightly as you kiss him like it’s the last thing you will ever do.

Steve’s heart is racing in his chest, out of pure shock, his stomach fluttering and his dick twitching in his pants – he needs you, he wants you so bad. He is starting to grow breathless, but he doesn’t want this moment to end, not yet. It’s been bad enough waiting for your call all week, he had to use his hand more times than he could count as his mind kept taking him back to you.

Now you’re here, right in front of him, and you clearly still want him just as much as he wants you. And your lips, your lips taste so good, a hint of strawberry from the balm you always carry around the cocktails that you’ve been drinking all day.

The roughness of the kiss, the intensity and your touches show him that there is a side to you that he hasn’t had the pleasure of getting to know just yet, but he wants it, so so bad.

You tug at his hair, tilting his head back a little as your tongue keeps moving against his and the kiss somehow grows deeper and hungrier, moans falling from your lips, echoing through the room with his.

Neither of you care about the possible consequences.

Steve nearly busts in his pants when you press your stomach against his aching dick. You let your left hand roam his shoulder, his chest and his stomach, your fingertips start inching closer and closer to where he needs you the most.

But just as he’s about to break the kiss to start begging for you to touch him, you roughly pull away and take a step back from him, leaving him without the warmth you just provided him with.

He almost whines at the loss of your touch.

Now the room is filled with panting and loud breathing besides the deafening silence.

You bite your lip, tasting the beer and the mint that his lips have left behind. Your knees nearly buckle as you take in the sight of him.

Flushed cheeks, messy hair and puffy lips, along with the big eyes that are filled with nothing but desperation and lust.

Despite the fluttering in your heart, as you stare at the man before you, you can’t help but smirk.

Who would’ve thought you could turn him into that?

That you could leave him desperate and panting for more.

You take a step forward again, watching the way his curious eyes follow every of your movement, lips parting as he slightly leans down, thinking that you will kiss him again.

And you do, just not the way he wanted you to.

You press your lips to his cheek, giving it a soft and teasing kiss before you lean closer to his ear.

“I’ll wait for you at my house later.”

And with that, you step away from him, you unlock the door and open it, throwing another glance over your shoulder at a very flustered Steve – a look that leaves you swelling with pride and a glimpse of hope.

You can feel the way he reacts to your touches, you can see how red his cheeks can glow for you, how lust filled his eyes can get – something that never even happened in the past, not even once but now here you both are.

You doubt that he could ever feel more for you than this.

And yet, you would wait for years.

You would wait forever.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @taintedcigs @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @agirlwholovesrockstars

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things angst

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hwangism143 · 2 months

Text

𓆩♡𓆪 how skz would propose to you. 𓆩♡𓆪

BANG CHAN

he would invite you over (or sneak, i should say) to the studio for a date cuz you both do this all the time

sometimes, he plays you snippets of songs he's working on, other times, you're just talking the night away while getting some work done

anyways, today he's playing you one of his songs

you're just completely immersed in the music and when it ends the lingering feeling of wanting more is left behind

how could it not? the song was about spending an eternity with you

you're about to turn around and profess your love for chan for the millionth time when you see him

he's on one knee and lets out a choked, "i meant everything in that song. i didn't know what love was before i met you, but you have shown me love and so much more. marry me?"

ofc you say yes (i mean, i would) and just end up falling asleep on his couch

LEE MINHO

you guys go to your favorite cat cafe, and bring the kids (cats?) along with you too

suddenly, soonie comes along with a note stuck to her back - "will you be our parent? i mean, for real?"

you look at minho who's playing with the cats on the other side of the room, confused, but he doesn't see you

(actually, he's blushing like crazy and is too scared to make eye contact lmao)

that is until you walk over to him and give him a nudge

he's beaming at you (this boy istg) and gets down on one knee

"we can't let our kids be a part of a dysfunctional family. they another parent, and they love having you around. actually, no, they love you. and they wanna grow old with you. so. will you, uhm, marry me? their father?"

(pls im giggling at this myself)

SEO CHANGBIN

you guys are out on a date at a fancy restaurant and changbin's acting extra giggly

now mind you, this is seo changbin. extra giggly is far more than what you would imagine

you're finally done eating and slump against your chair when the server brings another plate of food

you look at changbin with a "bro. i'm full." but the bro in question is just looking at you.

you look down at the tray placed in front of you.

"will you marry me?" it says with a ring in the middle?

"be my permanent gym partner?" asks changbin hopefully

and you say yes (bcuz who in their right mind wouldn't ???)

HWANG HYUNJIN

we all know how extra this man is, so when he insists that you two go to the bookshop where you first met, you don't protest

you're scanning the bookshelf, reminiscing about how you both bonded over monet and jane austen at this very shop

then you here a little gasp in front of you

naturally, your first instinct is to turn around and check on hyunjin

and he is down on one knee, a sobbing mess (but still cute, y'know)

"you have, and always will be my muse," he says, "so will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of being your husband?"

he slides the ring onto your finger and pulls you into a hug and you're both crying and laughing and

(i'm sorry this is so cute, goodbye)

HAN JISUNG

you had made up your mind - is jisung wasn't going to propose to you, you would propose to him

(get it, queen or king or gender non-identifying reader!)

and so you're on your rooftop building when he goes "i need to tell you something" and funnily enough, so do you

(i wonder what that's about... hehehe)

after a series of 'you first', 'no you'. jisung admits defeat and slides you over the ring box

wordlessly, you slide over your box

the two of you just start laughing because, idiots in love

and then you squish jisung and start peppering him with kisses

LEE FELIX

it's a beach date!

absolutely perfect, all complete with bokkie's brownies

but felix is acting kinda nervous.

(and by nervous i mean his face is beet red and he's stuttering like crazy)

(what can you say, my boy is in love)

you're eating the last brownie when he says "close you eyes"

you do and you hear some shuffling.

you open your eyes to a sniffling felix propped up on one knee. "can I be your personal brownie chef for the rest of forever?"

who can say no to an offer like that?

KIM SEUNGMIN

you both were coming home from one of your numerous dates

it was the perfect night to be walking outside, but seungmin seemed really shifty

he was NOT enjoying himself

"are you cheating on me?" you ask jokingly

"far from it actually," he retorts, suddenly letting go of your hand.

you turn to find him in the middle of the street with a ring in his hand

"marry me. will you? please? i've had this ring with me for months and i didn't know when to propose but now i know, well like i always knew-"

you promptly shut him up with a kiss and a breathless yes

YANG JEONGIN

nothing was going according to plan for innie. you spent too much time picking an ice cream flavor and he knew that he was spending too much time at this clothing store

but they just got a new collection

and so he waits until you both are done so that he can take you to that really drmamtic fountain in front of the mall and propose to you

but watching you pick out your clothes, he realizes he wants to do this for the rest of forever

so this man promptly plops down on one knee in the middle of a department store and screams, "WILL YOU MARRY ME AND BE MY SHOPPING BUDDY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE? WE CAN BE EACH OTHERS PROBLEMS"

you just look at him confused holding up a t-shirt, "UH OKAY I'LL MARRY YOU AND WE CAN BE EACH OTHERS PROBLEMS"

you both are so loud that you nearly get kicked

(later he makes you buy him ice cream because he's a baby who's done a good job and deserves a reward)

482 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 10 months

Text

élan

élan part one: harry is a bodyguard by trade and y/n would do anything just to be left alone

wordcount: 18.5k+

cw: her dad is really mean tbh!! pls skip parts w him if you are senstive to that kind of thing!

—————

(Y/N) fought to keep her eyes focused in the dark of her father's office. The longer she sat there, listening to the shout of his voice, the easier it was to block it out as she waited for it to be over. She stopped listening when he went off on his tangent about how terrible she was (he loved to use the word selfish and anything he could think of to diminish her intelligence). He wasn't very creative anymore, these berating sessions feeling like a necessary task as opposed to a hurtful punishment these days.

At least the interior designer he brought in last month had moved everything around, leaving his bookshelf behind his desk. This way, she could look over his shoulder and read the titles of his books. She was almost certain he hadn't read a single volume though he most likely told everyone that followed him in, that he had paged through each book more than once.

"Are you even listening, (Y/N)?"

Perking up at the sound of her name, she nodded on instinct. "Mhm," she hummed absently.

"What did I just say?" He was unimpressed—disbelieving.

(Y/N) stayed silent.

A heavy sigh fell from her father's lips. His eyes dimmed fro the angry fire she'd spotted before, leveling to disappointed embers the longer he looked at her.

"This is what I mean, (Y/N)," he continued, harshly spitting out her name, "You don't care. Never have you thought about the consequences to your actions. You're too selfish to think of anyone but yourself!" The blaze sparked up once more as he flicked his gaze to the glossy tabloid splayed across his desk. "Can you even comprehend what this"—he gritted out the word, tapping his finger against the photo—"means for me? My investors are going to have my ass only Monday because you don't know how to control yourself for five minutes."

She squirmed in her spot. Her gaze stayed locked on the tabloid cover. She was pictured with bitter features, her brows twisted in anger and eyes were ablaze. Her hand was outstretched as she dumped a full glass of rosé on Damien Moore's perfect, blonde head. Several angles were posted, documenting her gaped lips as she spat out venomous words while Damien looked on with seemingly innocent, wide blue eyes. The last in the series showed her walking out with the wine dripping down his features as he looked on in shock. A bold headline said: "Whore-mones or Another Drunken Rage?"

(Y/N) swallowed as she took the scene in.

Perfectly manicured nails clashed in her lap, the edges of her acrylics being worn dull from the restless ministrations.

"Do you want me to fail?" her father prodded, unsatisfied with her silence.

"It's not what it looks like—," she floundered, unable to keep her feelings out of it after looking at those photos, "He—Damien—"

"It does not matter what happened, (Y/N)! This is what it looks like and that is what people are going to believe and what they are going to care about!" He seethed as he looked at her, (Y/N) unsurprised. "You're going to make us lose everything if you keep this up, do you understand that? Your apartment, everything you have in Paris, your stupid shopping sprees—you'll actually have to work if you want any of that. Did you think of any of that?"

His harsh words slipped around her, filling every breath of air she pulled into her lungs. Any fight she had, any want to defend herself or give any kind of explanation, left her in an instant. "No," she answered, resigned.

"I didn't fucking think so. You never think, anyway."

(Y/N) just looked over his shoulder. Her gaze didn't shift even as his voice continued on, droning with insults and degrading remarks.

She hadn't even known she was being photographed that day. There wasn't a single flash or shutter of a camera. The restaurant had even gone out of their way to assure them that no one would be able to slip inside without a reservation or loiter along the sidewalk in wait.

But, inside sources and photographers always found a way, she supposed. Especially since it wasn't just her, it was her and Damien Moore on something that looked like it could have been a date. Of course paparazzi were going to find a way to get a photo of them together—anything to help fuel the rumors filling gossip pages and social media.

This particularly source even went so far as to claim they were close enough to overhear the argument that sparked the thrown wine. Supposedly, (Y/N) had been seeing someone behind Damien's back (something that was impossible given the fact she had Damien weren't even talking like that, let alone in an exclusive relationship), and when he confronted her she blew up. She was so hopped up on her "whore-mones" as the headline so eloquently put it, and the obviously unfinished glass of wine, that she just had to throw the drink in his face.

Because of course it was (Y/N)'s fault. Never could it have anything to do with Damien. He was the sterling Yale grad that came from the perfect family, while she was the "party girl" with divorced parents and a wild past. It was always going to be her fault, because that was more interesting than checking your sources.

At least, that's what the "journalists" and "sources" said.

It came with the territory, her dad had told her when she was freshly sixteen and photographers started waiting outside her private school. If you wanted to make the kind of money he made and be important in this world, there was going to be consequences, that's what he'd said when he saw the first photos of her and her friends having lunch on the quad. She was a pretty girl, anyway, of course there were going to be photos taken of her. She might as well take advantage of it instead of whining.

She became a tabloid bunny before she had even turned eighteen, with every misstep documented on the internet and whatever publication bought the photos as exclusives. Because of that, this lashing was nothing to her. She'd "poorly reflected the family image" enough time to let her dad's words roll off of her.

Her father was going to probably send her to the home in Malibu or whatever vacation rental was farthest from New York until he could stomach seeing her again. She'd happily take whatever location; it wasn't like she wanted to see him either.

"(Y/N), we can't keep doing this." Finally focusing her gaze, she saw her father sitting with his eyes sealed closed, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't keep doing this."

As much as she was numb to moments like these, it was when his anger melted away and she was left with a disappointed father that she felt cracks appear in her walls. The little girl inside still ached to see her daddy so upset with her; so disappointed he couldn't even look at her.

"I'm sorry," she offered, something genuine lying beneath the deadpan tone.

"I'm sure you are," he sighed, "But, that's not enough anymore."

Rolling her lips between her teeth, lipgloss smearing across her pout, she stayed quiet.

"At this point, it's like you need a babysitter again. You can't be left by yourself and expected to behave."

Not this again, she wanted to grumble. Her last "babysitter" was nothing more than an uppity handler that cared more about PR rather than her actual well being.

Beginning to shake her head, (Y/N) tried to politely decline before he steamrolled over her.

"I'm going to have to hire someone, whether you want it or not. A bodyguard, a handler, or something, just to follow you around and keep you out of trouble."

Her lashes fluttered as her eyes widened at his plan. Her last handler didn't do more than text her throughout the day and meet with her once a week. He wanted someone on her back all the time?

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

He still wouldn't look at her as he spoke, "Since you keep acting like a child, that's how I'm going to have to treat you."

A slight panic sparked in the pit of her stomach. If she couldn't have her freedom, then what was any of this for? None of this—putting up with her father, allowing him to jerk her around, take his berating—was fucking worth it, then.

"Dad, seriously," she tried again, her hands beginning to shake, "Those pictures aren't what it looks like, I promise."

"And the others?" he asked sharply, whipping his gaze to match hers intently, "The one with you and Francesca sneaking out of a club at three in the morning when you were nineteen? The one of you screaming at Terra at her birthday party? Or, of course, the clips of you showing off your underwear while getting out of some random man's car?"

(Y/N) shut down at the mention of her most famous and well photographed mistakes. He never bothered to get her side of the story to those photos either, he just liked to bring them up to taunt her. He'd rather believe an "insider" over his daughter. It didn't matter that she was his family. It only mattered what his investors thought, or the men at the country club, or whoever he was trying to cozy up to for his benefit. Every attempt to clear her name was thrown out; not even when she showed him that one of these insiders had found her home address and started sending her letters. Not even when she told him she was beginning to get scared did he even pretend to care.

"That's what I thought," her father continued after she left them in silence, "Now, I'm going to have to hire someone to ensure you don't keep causing trouble, and you are going to respect them. If you want any chance of me letting this go, you're going to respect them more than you apparently respect me."

She stayed quiet. There wasn't anything she could add to this.

"Is there anything you want to say?" he pressed. A faux offer of debate.

(Y/N) only shook her head.

"Fine," he spat out, "Then go to bed. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

She was up and out of her seat immediately, not wasting a single second before her Dior heels were rapidly clacking over the cherrywood floors of her father's office. Her eyes were on the ground, watching the transition between the wood to the sparkling marble throughout the rest of the flawless Upstate mansion. Everything was high-end and fine, perfect and unburdened. It was full of everything her dad wanted her to be but she could never manage to be as well behaved as a lamp or as quiet as a Persian rug.

Trailing through the labyrinth of staircases and sealed doors, (Y/N) beelined to her childhood room. It was left exactly how it had been when she moved out at nineteen. It had way too much gold and hidden compartments her friends made to hide liquor for their slumber parties. Her bed was too big with a mattress that was too stiff and sheets too starchy from disuse.

Her dad never bothered to clear it out or even change a single piece of furniture—not because he cared or wanted her to have a space in his life, but because he didn't think of her enough to even remember this was here.

Shedding her Chanel sweater and dropping her skirt to puddle at her feet, (Y/N) dressed down to her undergarments before stealing an oversized shirt from a film festival she and Francesca had been invited to at seventeen. The fabric was soft and worn as it fell to the middle of her thighs, the fit slouching and stretched just like it was all those years ago.

That was all the comfort she could find as she slipped into bed, the sheets dragging across her bare legs. With her head cushioned by an overstuffed pillow, (Y/N) shuttered her eyes as she laid of on her back. Taking in deep breaths, she did her best to keep herself from shedding any tears.

There wasn't a single reason she should cry over her father. There was nothing there for her to be upset over; none of his words sliced the way he thought they did, that father-daughter bond having been severed when she was way too young. Her efforts were better utilized trying to figure out how to get out of this whole thing.

Aside from the fact she didn't want a handler—or whatever this babysitter's official title would be—following her around, she needed her freedom. Having the space away from her father's world was the only thing keeping her sane, even if she was barely hanging on.

She'd been suffocated enough of her life, she needed to find a way to get this pair of strangling hands off of her neck sooner rather than later.

—————

"He literally arranged a flight for me to meet him in Greece, but he only ever messages me after ten like I'm a booty call or something."

Francesca's babbling complaints were some of her favorite things. It was fun hearing what the biggest problems in her life were, as if it was really such a bad thing to have a billionaire entertaining a romance with you. Even if it only occurred after ten p.m.

"Isn't there a time difference between here and Greece?" (Y/N) asked, the Prada and Dior bags in the crook of her elbow brushing against each other as she raised her hand to flick a strand of hair off of her shoulder. Summer was beginning to fall over the city, that much she could tell from the humid breeze twirling around them.

"I mean sure, but that's not the point," Fran argued, breathing out a frustrated sigh, "It's like he doesn't think I'll ghost him if he starts annoying me. He's not the only one with a yacht, you know."

"I know, bu—"

(Y/N) was cut off by the sound of her phone vibrating in her bag, the device rattling against her lipgloss tube. Francesca paused her story, watching as (Y/N) pulled her phone out of her bag. Clocking the name on the screen, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. There had already been a photographer taking photos of them through the windows of Prada and she wasn't sure if they'd followed, but a picture of her rolling her eyes before answering the phone would surely be spun into something sensational.

"Hold on, it's my dad," she mumbled before pressing the phone to her ear.

Without waiting for a greeting, her father brightened through the receiver with a call of her name. "(Y/N)! Are you still out with Francesca?" She could hear his smile through the phone. The investor meeting must have gone better than he thought.

"Yeah," she answered absently, "We just finished lunch and shopping. I think we're going to go back to my apartment before we go out tonight. Why?"

"Would you be able to come home this afternoon, instead? There's someone I want you to meet."

The lax in her muscles evaporated at his words. Though it was posed as a question, she knew there was only one answer he would accept. It was never a good thing when he wanted her to meet someone, but it was a required thing she'd learned. More often than not, he wanted her to meet an investor's son, or some man he drank too much with at the country club.

Cautiously, she asked, "Who is it?"

"It's a surprise," he beamed over the phone, "Drop off your things and I'll have one of the drivers come to pick you up."

"I mean, I think Franny actually made reservations at—"

This time around, her father's voice had a curt edge underneath the faux sweetness he started the call with. "I think you're going to have to tell Francesca that you need to reschedule, sweetie," he said, voice too pleasant, "I need you to come home tonight."

Swallowing around her dry throat, (Y/N) resigned herself to the change in the day's plans. "Okay, dad," she muttered.

"See you soon, honey! Love you!"

(Y/N) didn't bother to reciprocate his performance, instead just hanging up. He wouldn't shout at her over the dropped call if someone else was present anyway, might as well take advantage she decided.

Beside him, Francesca looked at her with a matching pout. "You have to go home, huh?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) breathed, dropping her phone back into her purse as they crossed the busy intersection, "My dad wants me to meet one of his friends or something."

Francesca affectionately bumped against Y/N's shoulder as the car taking them back to her apartment came into view. "Well, if you don't like this one, send me his number and I'll take him off your hands. Just make sure he also has a yacht in Greece."

Though her features stretched into a smile with a bubbling laugh, (Y/N) wasn't too impressed with Francesca's comment. While she was the best friend (Y/N) had ever had, the only person that knew much about what happened at home and why she would do next to anything to avoid her father, Francesca didn't get it. She supported (Y/N) and didn't mind being the listening ear and the shoulder to lean on, but she never really understood why certain things bothered (Y/N). Everything was very light-hearted in Franny's eyes—there was never a reason not to be receptive if a rich man wanted to buy her a drink or a company wanted to use her likeness without permission. Everything was an opportunity, not a crossed boundary.

"I doubt he will," (Y/N) played along, setting her shopping bags at her feet after climbing into the black car, "But I'll make sure to put in a good word for you in case he has one in Florence."

Francesca's laugh filled the cab of the car though (Y/N) was already back home with her father, trying to navigate her way out of whatever he planned.

—————

"Thank you, Sully," (Y/N) chirped as her driver helped her step out of the car.

"My pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he offered, waiting for her to steady herself over the gravel of her father's long driveway, "Also, I wanted to say thank you again for the clothing you passed on to my daughter. She loved her prom dress and is already asking her mom if she can get it preserved so she can keep it forever. Thank you for taking the time and picking some things out for her—it made her night."

"Of course," she bubbled, allowing Sully to escort her to the front door of the mansion, "I'm so happy she liked any of it! Let me know if she needs anything else for graduation or anything at all."

The smile on his face made it especially worth it to let go of her favorite vintage Dior gown.

Waving goodbye to Sully, (Y/N) stepped over the threshold of the front door, already regretting not fighting harder to get out of this. Goosebumps touched her skin as the temperature dropped. She shut the warmth outside behind her, the lock ensuring nothing comforting could follow her into the lion's den.

Despite the place being her childhood home, there was nothing left for her here, she knew that. It barely even resembled the same place she used to celebrate holidays and share tense family dinners in. Her dad's favorite interior designer had the pleasure of redecorating the place every few years, erasing anything that made it not look like a catalogue.

Her heels clicked over the floors as she made her way up to his office. She wanted to take her time, but she was sure her father already knew she was there. It was better to refrain from keeping him waiting.

Scaling the stairs, she heard a pair of voices and distant laughter. She didn't need to see the space to know her dad had probably cracked open the decanter of whiskey he had on display on one of his shelves, crystal glasses filled for the both of them. It wasn't hard to imagine the kinds of lines her dad would offer in an attempt to schmooze with whoever was waiting for her. She'd heard it all dozens of times at this point.

The other voice, though, took her by surprise. This one was too deep and mature to be any kind of investor's son, and too sober and untainted by years of smoking cigars to be one of the men at the country club. Her steps slowed some. Her expectations shifted as she trailed down the hallway in the direction of the office, heels muffled by the long rug under her feet.

With the heavy door to his office in front of her, (Y/N) carefully knocked on the panel, listening as the voices inside stilled at her disruption. Typically, her father would just grunt a permission of entrance or already be raging when she stepped over the threshold, but she knew he was committed to whatever show he was putting on when he opened the door for her himself.

"(Y/N), sweetie," he greeted her, toothy smile on his lips. "Thank you for coming so quickly; I know you were busy with Francesca, but I'm happy you're here."

If that wasn't enough, the hug he pulled her into was more than alarming. The last time he hugged her when cameras weren't present was the day her parents told her they were divorcing. She didn't even know how to reciprocate.

Before she had a chance to screw her head on right, he pulled away and began leading her inside his office.

"Of course," she chirped, falling into her designated role for this scene. She kept her gaze high as she followed him in, feigning confidence in the midst of whoever it was that was awaiting her.

"I have someone special for you to meet," he continued, pitching his voice louder as to catch the attention of the one other in the room.

Around his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted a head of brown hair, black clothing stretched around broad shoulders and tan skin on the back of their neck. They faced forward despite the obvious way her father was trying to catch their attention. Pacing her breathing, (Y/N) fell into the loving daughter character, willing to do anything for her doting father.

Welcome to the show. She just hoped it would be a short viewing.

Approaching the pair of chairs positioned before the cherry-stained desk, her father held out a sweeping hand. "Harry," he said, looking to his guest, "This is my daughter, (Y/N)."

At the sound of his name, the guest—Harry—stood from where he was sitting, moving with calculated grace as he turned to face the both of them. He stepped away from the cushioned seats, a stoic expression on his features as he looked towards her.

He wore all black down to his shoes, standing taller than her father's height. His arms and chest were thick with muscle, tan skin and tattoos littering the space. He had beetles and mermaids, hearts and roses inked across, some sketches more faded than others. A cross had even been needed into his hand. The chain of a necklace glimmered in the lowlight though any pendant that may be attached were hidden under the neckline of his top. Moving up the column of his throat, his face was made of hard planes and sharp angles. His nose was strong and straight. Stubble shown blonde in the light across the bottom half of his face, a mole off to the side of his mouth. Everything softened as she matched his eye contact, mossy jade with sparkles of sunlight flecked through. Long curling lashes framed his gaze.

He was gorgeous, that's for sure. Not the usual kind of person her father associated with. He must be some kind of new money millionaire, easily fooled by her father's charms.

The man took her in as well, his gaze observant as if there was a notepad he had in his head to take down every detail of her. It didn't feel like the affectionate gaze she'd felt before tracing down her body. Especially with the way his practiced expression stayed level, a wall hidden behind his eyes.

Nonetheless, she kept her facade up and ready, a beaming smile on her face. She reached out her delicately manicured hand, palm smelling of the Miss Dior cream she'd rubbed over her hands on the car ride over.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she greeted, a mild smile on her face.

His grip was strong as he grabbed her hand, palm to palm with callouses matching the soft parts of her own. "Likewise."

(Y/N) couldn't help but to recoil some as she retracted her hand. It wasn't a new reaction, especially some people who met her after reading too much into the tabloid stories and anonymous blogs. Half the time strangers waited for her to drunkenly blow up on them. Though it wasn't a typical reaction from those who requested to meet her.

Her father didn't seem to pay any mind to the chilled interaction, rounding the width of his desk to take his throne on the other side, leaving (Y/N) and Harry to settle beside each other across from him.

"Remember when we decided you wanted extra guidance, (Y/N)?" her dad asked, bleached white smile on his face, "After everything with Damien recently?"

Ice touched her spine as she took in his sticky sweet words. She knew where this meeting was going now.

As much as he tried to hide behind the "we" words and his fake smile, (Y/N) knew this wasn't some investor sitting beside her now.

Harry was her new cage.

"I remember," she offered, her own voice sounding far away.

"Well," he continued with a flourish leaning over his desk with his elbow propped on the wood, "Harry, here, is that guidance we were looking for. He used to work for Camila and Monroe as their head of security, but he's agreed to be your personal bodyguard until you're back on track." He looked too proud of himself as he spoke. "He's going to take good care of you, sweetie."

Bodyguard.

Her personal bodyguard.

When her father pitched this whole idea and sent her to her room like a child, she honestly figured it would be another handler he would find for her. While it wasn't ideal, she knew she could deal with a handler. She could deal with an uppity woman bossing her around from a distance; she could deal with painting a facade and adhering to her father's guidelines through a handler.

But, a bodyguard—or personal security, as he so delicately put it—was a different story.

Harry would be tasked with following her everywhere. He'd have access to her home, access to the person she was around her friends, who she was around her father. Downtime would no longer be a thing with Harry around—recovery and privacy being thrown out.

Francesca had a bodyguard when they were teenagers. Though it was only over the summers when they weren't away at school, those months he was present were... odd to (Y/N). He wasn't a mean man, but he was always there. Franny wasn't as bothered as she was, but (Y/N) felt like there was no privacy—no space to talk to her best friend about anything. He was always there listening, watching, and anticipating any need for protection. She felt exposed in his presence, no secrets truly secret or downtime when someone constantly had eyes on them.

If this arrangement was anything like that, (Y/N) didn't know if her sanity was going to survive these months.

Despite her insides beginning to churn, her glossy-lipped smile stayed intact with stiff cheeks. "Wow! That's amazing!"

Her performance must have been subpar if the way her father flashed his gaze at her, a glance that hardened a little too much. She needed to be trying harder, was what he was telling her. She wasn't being perfect like he wanted.

"I've already warned him about your history of outbursts," her father said, a stealthy jab at her, "and we discussed everything with Damien. I think he's up for the challenge."

It was an interesting feeling being called a "challenge" by her own father, knowing he must have shared much more degrading comments behind her back disguised as warranted advice. It was all preparation, he probably thought. A proper warning.

She shoved that feeling down—whatever that feeling was called—and instead focused on her role. As long as she bubbled, chirped, and smiled, she could get out of this room sooner rather than later.

"Good," she said, a breathy laugh floating out with her voice, "I'll try not to give you any surprises, then." Looking to Harry, she leaned into her persona and played along. He didn't glance at her once, keeping his gaze forward on her father as if he were watching a movie.

"There won't be any surprises, actually, right (Y/N)?" her father said, a tad too sharp under his act.

"Right," she settled, calming under the weight of the room.

Silence settled over, neither she nor her father plucking up the words while Harry stayed an observing pillar.

This was her opening. If she acted fast, she could get out of here before either of them could stop her.

"It was really nice to meet you, Harry," she said politely, her fingers curling around the arms of her chair, "Thank you for coming to work with us. I actually have early breakfast plans with Fran tomorrow morning back in the city, so I should probably start hea—"

"Actually," her father cut her off sharply, his eyes hardening as they landed on her, "I was hoping you would stay for dinner tonight, sweetie. After Harry and I finish ironing out his contract, I wanted to talk to you some more before he officially started with you."

Instinctively, she wanted to fight him on this. Spending another night here less than a month after the last time she had a breakdown here wasn't on the top of her list of wants, currently. But, knowing there was someone here already expecting the worst from her, forced her to settle. If she talked back it would only reinforce everything her father probably spouted off about her earlier.

"Okay," she smiled, standing to her feet before inching towards he door, "I'll wait in my room then and give you guys some privacy."

While her father offered a small dismissal to her in the form of a stuff smile and a promise to call her for dinner, Harry didn't bother to look twice at her. She didn't waste a moment before she was rushing back to her room. She didn't care if they could hear the pacing of her heels over the floors, knowing she was all but running away from that room.

After twisting the lock on her bedroom door, (Y/N) collapsed onto her bed. Her breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling a little too fast for her head to stay clear. Pinpricks of static began to dance on her palms, fingertips beginning to go numb. A hole began to develop in the pit of her stomach.

This might be one of the last real moments of alone time for the next couple of months, and she was spending it on the verge of a panic attack.

(Y/N) knew her dad didn't trust her, but to have someone on his payroll whose only purpose was to follow her around stung more than she was willing to admit. She wasn't a stupid child despite how much he wanted to believe that.

Harry wasn't there to protect her, she knew that. He was a hired hand to put her back in her place every time her father wasn't there to do it himself. He was another body to crowd her into a corner and suffocate her as long as she kept smiling. Harry was another reminder that nothing was allowed to be hers; her thoughts, her time, her space was to be shared just like the rest of herself.

Besides, Harry might be the kind of person willing to sell stories to tabloids. Who better than someone tasked with observing her every mood to be an "insider"? It wouldn't be the first time a Secrets Edition came out about her.

With her eyes fixed to a knot swirling in the marble flooring, (Y/N) tried to unlatch the phantom hands wrapped around her neck.

What was going to be left of her if she was constantly going to be performing?

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) fisted her hands in her lap, the hem of her Dior minidress caught in the fray. She needed to calm down.

No matter what, she was still luckier than most people in this world. She needed to keep that in mind if she was going to keep her head on straight. She was going to figure this out, and she was going to be okay even if a tiny bit cracked at the edges.

Curling up on her dusty bed, she leveled her breathing as much as she could despite the shuddering of her lungs. Every spiraling thought had to be neatly rolled up and put away.

A breakdown was probably on the list of banned surprises her father had in mind, anyway.

—————

Poking at her dry salad, (Y/N) watched the drops of condensation river down her glass of lemon water. Across from her, her father tore at his too-scorched steak, a side of hearty potatoes and glass of whiskey to compliment the meat.

He hadn't said a word to her since she sat down, instead opting to focus on his tailored dinner while she was left with her pre-arranged salad. It was more lady-like, he'd told her once before, to eat like a rabbit. Leave the big things to men—they needed it after running the world, she'd heard him joke though she's sure it wasn't a joke to him.

As heavy as the silence was weighing on her, she wasn't going to be the first one to speak either. He was the one that requested she spend dinner with him, he was going to have to lead the conversation. That left only the clicking of utensils against the fine china plates.

Suddenly piping up, (Y/N) lifted her gaze to her father's as he spoke, "You're going to have to start being nice to Harry, you know. He's not going away until I say, and I could tell you were being fake today. If you're going to lie, at least try harder."

As if her father wasn't the king of phony facades and fake personality traits. He was the one that shattered that illusion the second he couldn't hide his temper with her earlier. It didn't take much to notice he didn't actually care about her.

Those hours in her room left her exhausted, though. She'd cried off and on until she finally convinced herself everything was fine and none of it truly mattered in the grand scheme of things; that her discomfort and fear was something minuscule enough to be pushed to the side and forgotten. She didn't have it in her to debate with him.

"Yeah," she dejectedly agreed, running her fork through the leafy greens on her plate, "Sorry about that."

Apparently, that was the worst thing she could have uttered with the way her father dropped his fork to clatter against his plate with his grip tightening on the handle of his steak knife. His jaw tensed, lips pinched.

"I don't care how you feel about this, (Y/N)," he gritted out, "Don't think I don't mean that. You are going to show him some respect, listen to everything he says, and behave accordingly. Otherwise, he has full permission to correct you as he sees fit. And, he will tell me every time he has to correct you, so keep in mind that any kind of punishment he gives—mine will be ten times worse."

She didn't doubt a word he said. If this was the kind of conversation he and Harry had after she left the room, there was no telling what kind of person her new security had to be to agree to a job with terms like these. She lacked faith in just how fairly he would "correct" her if his thoughts aligned with her father's.

"Okay," (Y/N) mumbled, all the fight in her gone for the day.

Her father sighed, disappointed as per usual. "This is going to be good for you," he told her, condescension tainting his tone, "I know you don't understand that now, but it will be. I just want you to settle down and stop giving people something to talk about. There's no reason to act like that if you want attention. You're pretty enough, people are already looking—there's no reason to be a bitch, too." Picking up his fork, he steadied his steak as he sliced off another too-tough bite. "Your life could be so much different—Damien might even take you back if you just apologized."

The ice cubes in her drink slid against one another, melting in her water. "Okay."

Chewing down his bite, her father took a long pull from his whiskey.

"He starts with you on Friday. I told him to take a look at your apartment and make sure there isn't anything or anyone that isn't supposed to be there." His pointed gaze landed on her over the rim of his glass. "I will hear about everything, please remember that."

His thinly veiled threat swept over her with nothing more than a meaningless brush. She kept her eyes on the drip of water traveling down the side of her glass. A melting ice cube clinked against the side.

"Okay."

—————

Phone pressed to her ear, (Y/N) flipped through her mail while Francesca bubbled in her ear. No matter how hard she tried to condition herself to be the same, Fran was always a much better morning person than she.

"When do you see him again? Do you know yet, or is that a mystery, too?" Francesca was a little too excited to hear how inexpressive Harry had been in her father's office. His stoic coldness translated to mysterious heat to her.

"My dad said he was supposed to start today, but I'm not sure. I woke up early and made an extra smoothie just in case, but he still hasn't shown."

The envelopes in front of her were nothing but junk so far, her attention waning.

"Ooh!" Francesca sang over the phone, "I'm so excited to meet him! We're still on for brunch this Sunday, right?"

(Y/N) faltered where she stood, hands pausing on the collection of mail. "I don't know, Fran," she muttered, shifting her weight over the tiles of her kitchen, "I just—... He'd have to come with me."

"I know, that's the point!" she bubbled, "You said he was cute and young, I want to meet him."

"I know, but I wanted to talk about stuff, you know," (Y/N) pointed out.

"And we will! You remember Barry from when we were in school, right? I promise you, your guy isn't going to care about anything going on as long as you aren't in danger," Francesca continued, referencing her security form when they were young.

Sighing, (Y/N) wanted to correct Franny. Harry wasn't going to be eyeing out any suspects or worst case scenario moments, not if he was following her father's directions. He would be listening in and watching her for any and all infractions she could commit, including any topic of discussion that might be considered unbecoming.

Francesca must have picked up on her lingering reluctance through the phone. "(Y/N), please," she pouted, "I know you're stressed and all about everything, but I don't want this to take you away from me. You can still live your life, you'll just have an extra shadow. That's all."

A beat passed before she felt herself resign. "Okay, but if today is weird with him, I might be calling and cancelling."

"Okay!" she squealed out, feeling as if this was her win no matter what, "Just keep an open mind today, and have fun!"

"I'm sure I will," (Y/N) laughed, "Love you."

"Love you, too! Bye!"

With that, the call went dead leaving (Y/N)'s previous scroll through instagram lighting up her screen. Locking her phone, she took a breath to take a sip of her purple smoothie, hoping the addition of matcha and cherry juice this time would tap into some of her stress points and calm her.

She kept up with her chosen routine for the morning, rifling through the remains of her pile of mail. Under a few more loose pieces of mail and catalogues was a navy blue envelope, stamped with silver starts and sparkling script spelling out her name. A faux wax seal laid the flap shut but gave away easily under a slight pick against the edge. Inside was an invitation to the annual 132 Gala—a benefit for the art gallery of the same name—she'd attended for the last couple of years, the dress code detailed out along with an RSVP request. Honestly, as much as she and her stylist had been anticipating the event, she almost forgot about it in the midst of all the variables entering her life. She was going to have to touch base with Dom to ensure he still had an idea in mind for her gown before she made any commitment.

With the invitation being stowed away for later, a few more pieces of mail were thrown in the trash until she reached the final slip in the stack. She sighed when she spotted the familiar computerized script on the front. It was crumpled and creamy as opposed to a clean white. She was sure that if she had picked it up earlier in the week it would have still had that distinct woodsy scent as opposed to smelling like the inside of her mailbox.

(Y/N) didn't need to peel open the flap to know that inside there would be a stack of glossy photos of her along with a typed letter. She knew there would be photos of her this week entering her apartment, going out with Francesca, driving to her father's, and the infamous event with Damien. Some of those photos would no doubt end up in a publication or posted along with a too-long article analyzing her outfit or body language. They always did.

Without opening the envelope to verify her suspicions, (Y/N) bent to lay this letter with the rest in a drawer filled with junk and things she wanted to ignore. After pushing the drawer closed, she wiped every thought about her "admirer" from her thoughts. They weren't allowed to occupy her brain when there were much more pressing things to worry about.

Flicking her gaze to the time blinking on her stove, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. While she wasn't much of a morning person, she couldn't believe her dad would allow someone to start a work day—no matter how informal—after nine a.m. With the time blinking well past ten in the morning and the sleep officially having been wiped from her eyes, she was growing unimpressed with the fact she was still waiting.

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) centered herself, leaning back against the lip of the counter. She knew there was no reason to be upset with Harry, it wasn't like she had any say in his schedule nor was this lag truly disrupting anything for her. Her anxiety was beginning to manifest in ways she wasn't proud of and weren't helpful in any way.

She thought some early morning yoga and a string of meditative poses would help settle her, work out that energy, but obviously none of that had the desired effect. Every time she tried to picture even what this Sunday's outing was going to be like, she wanted nothing more than to hide away and keep from encountering anyone or anything. It would be easier that way, she figured. That way she wouldn't have to explain who Harry was or why she needed any kind of security.

Francesca was right, though. She knew that. Staying holed up and avoiding the world wouldn't do anything to get her father off her back. If it went on too long, eventually her father would begin picking out events for her to attend, and that was always a much worse outcome than just leaving her house on her own.

Breathing the way her therapist from her teenage years taught her, (Y/N) centered herself as best she could with her bare feet on the cool tile of her kitchen. The chilled glass with her smoothie was slick against her palm, condensation dripping down the crystal.

Everything was going to be fine.

A buzz coming over the intercom knocked (Y/N) out of her head, her eyes flying open with her hand almost letting go of her smoothie. A stunted breath exhaled from her lungs as the moment she'd been waiting for laced together.

She knew that was Harry waiting to be buzzed up to meet her for the second time.

Forcing her head to clear, (Y/N) fell easily into her role of bubbly socialite. She had nothing to be afraid of, she told herself, it wasn't as if he was going to find anything her father would be ashamed of. She wasn't even his top priority, she reminded herself, her father and his company were Harry's clients, not (Y/N).

Pressing the small button on the stainless steel panel beside her front door, she dipped close to the microphone. "Good morning, how can I help you?" she asked as if she didn't already know what the answer would be.

"Good morning, Ms. (Y/N)," answered the doorman from the lobby, the usual quiet settling in the background as he spoke, "I have a Mr. Harry Styles waiting down here for you. He said he's a part of your security team."

"You can send him up, please," she replied, forcing a chirp to her voice. "Thank you, Claudio!"

"Of course, Ms. (Y/N)," was all she heard back before the static went dead. Claudio was always a bit cold to her, but he never let any of the lurkers into the lobby so she'd take what she could get.

The waiting game started again after the brief intermission, leaving (Y/N) in the silence of her apartment. She was suddenly too aware of the silk of her pajamas brushing her skin, the intricate threading on the hem of her shorts too heavy now.

Lucky enough for her, it wasn't too long before she heard a knock reverberating through the door. It was firm and short, matching the man on the other side.

A shot went through her system, a moment of static hitting her brain. She'd gone through worse bouts of anxiety and stressful situations, there was no reason to get worked up over something—someone—like this.

With her mask on, complete with a reserved smile and detached gaze, (Y/N) opened her front door. The hinges glided like butter, welcoming Harry in where he stood in the hallway.

Dressed in all black as she was starting to figure was his signature, he was waiting with an observant gaze being cast through the corridor. This was one of the few penthouse floors in the building leaving a bare space between where the elevator was stationed before leading to her front door.

"Good morning," she told him pleasantly, "Come in."

With a flourish, she stepped to the side with a space cleared for him to step into her apartment.

"Good morning," he said, a slight smile on his features that appeared for a flash before he was back to his stoic state, "Thank you."

Harry stepped in, acting as a dark spot with his fitted black t-shirt and trousers of the same shade against the understated hues of her home. (Y/N) locked the door behind him before turning to face him once more, a pleasant smile on her face.

"How are you?" she asked, her voice even and warm despite how detached she felt.

"Good, thank you," was his abrupt response, no followup about her own well being for the morning. He cast his gaze around her apartment, taking every corner and curve. She wasn't even sure he had properly looked at her at all since coming here.

"Good," she said, trailing off awkwardly into the space around them. What kind of small talk do you make with a member of your security team? Especially one that didn't seem too keen on knowing their client.

Leaning against her front door, she waited as he observed everything. He looked at her couch the same way he had looked at her days prior, as if he was compiling a list of all its attributes and deciding whether it not it had anything of value within.

It was an odd feeling; she typically wasn't so blatantly compared to furniture to her face, that was usually left to the tabloids and internet trolls.

Seeming to remember that she was still there, Harry stopped his game of finding everything in the room. He settled his eyes on her, a pointed look with a small pinch to his brows.

Taking him in for that moment, she was reminded of just how pretty he was. He didn't look like the kind of man that would be guarding the models and gorgeous people, he should be one of the YSL or Gucci models that needed protecting from the crowds of people trying to get a closer look at him. Off-duty model, she figured would be the name of the article that Vogue would write about him, full of street style photos of him.

With the green of his eyes meeting her own, he didn't waver where he stood. "Jus' go about your day like normal," he instructed her, arms crossed over his chest, "I want to learn your habits and your space first, but if you need to do anything out of the norm, let me know."

"Okay," she sounded, voice quiet to her own ears.

As much as she was sure she was meant to completely ignore him, she still felt odd crossing through her place towards her kitchen. She finished her smoothie and had left her blender and other supplies in the sink, so she could at least do the dishes maybe? At least that way her hands would be busy without plucking at her manicure.

Filling the sink with water, she did her best to treat Harry as nothing more than a shadow. To be fair, it wasn't that hard given the fact he barely made any noise as he traipsed around. It brought back memories of the way Barry used to hover around she and Franny when they were teenagers; it was easy to not pay too much attention to the extra body in the room, but her muscles never fully relaxed.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him poking his head up the stairs to where her bedroom was, casting his gaze towards her ceiling, catching a view out her various windows as he went around. He was a perfect shadow dressed in black, but he seemed a bit too unimpressed for a neutral being.

Harry stepped into her kitchen, the rubber soles of his shoes silent over the sparkling white granite flooring. "Do you have any kind of security system set up here? Cameras or anything like that?" he probed.

Humming, (Y/N) picked up the rag she placed out for drying. "The building has some of those alarms installed with the codes and everything and there's the guys downstairs, but I don't have cameras set up in here or anything."

Perpetually unimpressed, Harry only let out a, "Hm."

She fixed her eyes onto her pink onyx countertops, tracing the swirling white lines in the faint pink of the stone. Why did he even care, she wanted to ask. What good would cameras in her home do when she was a nuisance outside of these walls?

Watching as he headed down towards her guest rooms, she felt her tongue moving before her brain allowed it. "What are you looking for?" she poked, her question simple as he kept drying her dishes before placing them in cabinets.

It wasn't like she was hiding any of the drugs or alcohol her dad surely warned him about, telling him to seek out and destroy before truly starting his job. If that was what he was toeing around her home for, he was going to be disappointed.

He didn't even turn to face her as he called back down the hallway to her, "Nothing in particular. Jus' noting things as I go; vantage points and the complete lack of any useful security around here."

Propping her hip against the lip of the counter, she let out a small sigh. Her hands twirled the rag she had used to dry her dishes, gaze following after her new security detail.

"You don't have to pretend, you know," she started, saving them both some trouble by starting the conversation, "I know my dad didn't hire you to protect me or anything. He wants you protect the public, and his business from me."

His ghosting footsteps came to a stop where stood down the hallway. He was in complete control as he turned to face her, that usual placid look molding his features. "Last I checked, you were my client. Not the public or your father's company."

"But he's the one that's paying you," she countered, unwavering from the point she was trying to make, "I just don't want you to waste your time pretending to find something to protect me from."

That deadpan look never changed from Harry's face. "'M not pretending, 'm doing my job." He paused only for a moment, his gaze bored and heavy on her skin. "Let me know if y'decide to go anywhere."

That was the end of the conversation as far as (Y/N) was aware, Harry turning and leaving her as he went about doing whatever it was he considered to be his job. She didn't try to stop him again. If he wanted to waste his time, he could do just that. Not her problem, anymore.

Draining her sink, (Y/N) crept through her apartment to settle upon her plush couch. Clicking her television awake, she fumbled through streaming services until finally tuning into a rerun of a cooking show she was fond of. Though she couldn't quite sink into the cushions or yell to the T.V. as the contestants didn't see the obvious win she did, at least he wasn't right behind her.

—————

"No, dad, I didn't give him any trouble yesterday."

(Y/N) could practically hear the eyeball through the phone. "You know he's going to tell me, right? Lying won't change anything."

It was her turn to give a petulant reaction, lashes fluttering as she almost got her eyes stuck in the back of her head. "I'm being serious. I'm not hiding anything, and I haven't even gone out or anything. There's been nothing to get upset over, dad."

The trademark sigh of disappointment fluttered through the speaker. "What's the point of having a bodyguard if all you're going to do is stay home, (Y/N)?"

"I'm going to brunch tomorrow with Fran and the girls," she countered, feeling her blood pressure rise over his argument. She was damned if she went out and was seen, damned if she stayed home and out of the public eye. She couldn't win.

"Good," her father said, sounding all too pleased as if these plans were his doing, "I want him to see how you act in public, then we'll be able to start working on your problems."

There was no argument she was going to give after that. She wasn't going to reward him or validate his claim that she is the problem. Because of course she was; it was never the photographers hounding her the second she turned sixteen, never the men around her that treated her like a tabloid bunny there for poking and prodding, and never him who didn't think to be a father for longer than it took for a flash of a camera to capture the moment.

Dead air settled between them, (Y/N) pressing her phone to her ear with the help of her shoulder as she began to collect ingredients for her dinner. Her way of ignoring him came in redirection, instead focusing back on Harry, his new favorite person.

"Harry thinks I should get a security system at my apartment," she offered, hoping the mention of his name was enough to get her father's head turning elsewhere.

The beat that passed after her words showed she garnered the opposite reaction. "Did you tell him about those letters, (Y/N)?" he asked, voice hard as stone.

Her lips thinned. "No."

"Good. Don't." It didn't take much for (Y/N) to picture the way he was surely hanging his head over his dinner, perpetually disappointed in his only child. "Do not waste his time over those. Plenty of people take pictures with you, and if I find out you're having him worry about the one person that's actually a fan of you..." he trailed off as if she didn't know exactly what threat was about to leave his mouth, "I'm going to send you to stay with your mother."

"Right. I won't."

His worst punishment was always to push her off on others. The nannies she bonded with growing up, different boarding schools and summer programs, anyone that was willing to glance at her for longer than five seconds was in the running to take her off his hands. Her mother was always his favorite to threaten her with as if he knew where she was.

(Y/N) didn't bother to listen to him anymore when it came to these moments. While she knew he'd never—could never—follow through with this particular threat, it was more than a little disheartening that he'd consider her calling for help as something that deserved a punishment.

"Well," he started, speaking around his mouthful of whatever his chef had prepared for the night, "if I don't hear from Harry, I'll be calling you to see how tomorrow goes. Don't embarrass yourself, (Y/N). It's not worth it."

"I know," she answered absently, her voice bored, "Goodnight, dad."

"Night."

Pulling her phone from her ear, (Y/N) focused on preparing the zucchini for the pasta primavera she'd been craving. Her thoughts turned methodical now that she had something structured to give her attention to. It was much easier to think when she wasn't firmly planted in her stubbornness and trying to ward off the kind of anxiety she hadn't felt since she was a teenager.

Harry had gone home late into the afternoon yesterday, and didn't return today. He didn't tell her anything other than he'd see her on Sunday morning for brunch, but she had figured he'd have paid her another visit in the meantime anyway. It was an odd arrangement anyway, as far as she could tell.

Stretching her memory back, Francesca's security was always there. Even when (Y/N) would spend the night or go away on trips with family, Barry was a constant shadow. The pool house in their backyard was his, an extra room for every rental or new vacation house taken into account so Francesca was never without her bodyguard. While she hadn't really wanted this, she figured Harry would be the same way—his services a button away in case of any kind of moment in need from her.

He hadn't even taken her number down when he was over.

It had only been a suspicion before, but perhaps her dad really had been honest with Harry: there was no real danger surrounding (Y/N), just her as the problem that needed fixing before interacting any with the public. There would be no reason for him to watch over her as she slept or be available to any emergency that might appear in his absence.

Whatever, she figured, sliding the half-moons of her zucchini into a bowl. At least she cleaned out her guest room, something she'd been meaning to do.

(Y/N) was going to take her time alone as if it were gold. She had a feeling tomorrow was going to be rough enough without a bad night's sleep.

—————

Swimming to the surface of sleep, (Y/N) was half aware of the sound of the static buzzing coming through her apartment. It was far enough away, the buzz panel situated by the door, that she could ignore it easily as she shifted between her sheets with her eyes cinched closed. Brunch wasn't for a few hours anyway, she knew that, and if any of the girls needed her they would have called prior.

Soon enough the buzzing ceased, allowing her brain to fuzzy further and to retrace her steps back to her dreamland. Whatever that was, wasn't an emergency, then.

Until the banging knocks started.

These, she wasn't able to ignore. Forcing her eyes open, she reached for her phone on her night stand. No missed calls or texts filled her notifications, but the time of seven a.m. reflected at her. There was only one person who could be giving her this wakeup call, but there was no reason for him to be here already.

With no contact to reach out to see if it was Harry waiting for her, she just had to trust that the doormen downstairs wouldn't send anyone up that they didn't recognize or who wasn't on the list to be cleared for her penthouse elevator.

Her hair was a mess on the top of her head, tangled and falling out of the braid she had twisted for the night, eyes crusted with sleep in the corners, and limbs shaking from the abrupt pull from her sleep. The only clear thought she had was that she was goin to have to give him the access code to her apartment or a key after this; early morning wakeups like this were something she was ever going to be happy about.

Swinging the door open for him during a pause in his banging, (Y/N) barely looked at Harry before she was trying to usher him in with a sweep of her hand.

"Morning," she grumbled, voice sticky in her throat.

"Morning," Harry reciprocated, "Are you ready?"

"What?" she asked over the click of her lock going back into place.

"I thought you had plans to go out with your friends this morning." His voice was bored as if he couldn't believe he was having to remind her of her own agenda.

"Yeah, for brunch," she added, "We don't have to leave for a while."

"Hm," was all he had to offer in response. Unimpressed.

(Y/N) didn't have it in her to care whether or not he liked brunch or thought she was silly for whatever reason. She was too tired, and her bed was too soft.

"I'm going back to bed," she told him, edging towards the staircase to her bedroom, "You can do whatever you want."

A beat passed before Harry offered an acknowledgement in the form of a hum. He was much more interested in investigating more of her home, she figured with the way his eyes traipsed through the space.

The second her head hit the pillow in her bedroom, (Y/N) happily relaxed into the mattress.

While there was a part of her that felt odd knowing that there was someone else in her home, settling in while she was elsewhere, there were other parts of her that didn't mind it all that much. She'd never felt lonely before, but she also never had known what it was like to have someone else around like this.

Even if he was being paid to, it was nice to her soft, sleep-molded brain that he'd care if something happened while she slept.

That thought made it a little bit easier to fall asleep again.

—————

Standing before her bathroom mirror, (Y/N) sharpened her features and pouted her lips at her reflection. With her hair pinned back and a silky robe draped over her body, she looked every bit the dreamy socialite she pictured herself as in her teens. Except for the wreck that was her makeup so far.

Breaking her pose, she let out an annoyed grumble as she took a closer look at the section of eyeshadow that just wouldn't blend out. She felt like a toddler having a tantrum the way she wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and throw her makeup brush and eyeshadow palette away.

Everything had been going perfect until she decided to daringly dip into a slightly deeper shade than she was used to on her eyes, and now she was stuck with a semi-sweet chocolate blob on the outer corner of her eye when she was hoping for a milk chocolate fade. And, she didn't have time to redo anything.

Life could be so unfair sometimes.

From down the hallway, she heard footsteps glancing over the flooring towards the bathroom. Moments later, Harry appeared in the mirror behind her, something a little more urgent than she was used to in his gaze but just as serious and uninviting as she remembered from this morning.

When he didn't say anything, only tracing his eyes over her bathroom, (Y/N) piped up, "Is everything okay?" He hadn't come to see her once since she woke up.

Catching her gaze in the glass, he said, "I heard you."

"Sorry," she started, dropping her eyes to her palette of neutral powders, "I'm just annoyed right now. My makeup looks dumb, and I don't have time to redo it."

Harry relaxed some where he stood, his arms dropping from across his chest as he leant against the doorjamb. The observations never stopped, even as she resumed trying to blend out her makeup.

"I thought you had people to do that for you," he said, brows furrowing just a pinch.

(Y/N) shrugged, fluffing a creamy shade over the deep mass in hopes of lightening the whole thing up enough to go out for a morning. "Sometimes; usually for really important things. Otherwise, I just like to do it myself."

When the makeup cooperated, anyway. What she wouldn't give to have the hand of a makeup artist here to fix her mistake.

"Oh," Harry sounded behind her, silence settling between them.

Expecting him to leave then, (Y/N) refocused on her eye makeup only for Harry to linger in the doorway. He stood there in his too-pretty glory, watching her as she worked. She felt as if each of her moves were being dissected, analyzed and broken down as if there was a chance he would have to step in. She guessed that technically was his job, though she could argue there might be much better things for him to do rather than watch her blend eyeshadow and bobby pin her hair to perfection.

Once she had her face applied, extra blush and fluffy lashes added in hopes of distracting from her most disastrous shadow look to date (at least that's how she felt in the moment, but she was sure there were photos off er teen years that would love to beg to differ) and hair styled down to the single strand, she was left with her short robe on and her outfit picked out in her closet. Harry's eyes had documented each of her moves, grazing along her skin and observing every stretch.

Finding that gaze in the mirror, she looked at him with a mild expression. "I just need to get dressed then we can go."

Harry blinked at her. "Okay."

That was all he had to say before she was left to head to her room.

—————

Stepping through the lobby of her complex, (Y/N) couldn't help but to scope out the street as much as she could through the tinted glass doors of the entrance. Waiting on the curb was the all black SUV she called with pedestrians scattered along the sidewalks and recklessly stepping onto the street. All she was looking for was anyone lingering a little too close to the building with too nice of cameras to be normal.

She'd always been a little cautious leaving her building once the address to her complex had been leaked, paparazzi having camped out for a week afterwards in hopes of catching her off guard, though now that Harry was going to be stepping out with her another layer was added. She could already imagine the headlines and blog posts that would be made when others caught wind of the fact she was seen with a member of the opposite sex.

Some of her favorites loved to recount her "relationship timeline" as well as call into question her "body count" and how long this new "beau" will last. She was dreading reading those words again; it was bad enough when she actually liked one of those people in those photos with her, but Harry's new job required his presence around her. He couldn't even leave this narrative if he wanted to.

Staying focused, (Y/N) gave a wave to the doormen standing behind the front desk though their stony faces didn't sway. Harry was quiet at her side, allowing her to take the lead as she took them out onto the street, a blast of air hitting them once the seal of the doors was pushed open. Outside, no one paid her any mind, her driver being the only person that acknowledged her with a grin on his face.

"Morning!" she chirped, feeling more relaxed now that he was nearby.

"Morning, (Y/N)," he greeted, opening the backseat door with a flourish for her. His gaze only shifted for a moment to her companion, but she knew he was much too polite to ask for details about any of her guests.

Setting one foot inside, (Y/N) hesitated as she looked around the SUV door to Sully. "Sully, this is Harry," she started, tossing her hand in Harry's direction, "He's my new bodyguard"—her tongue felt odd around the word—"Harry, this is Sully. He's my primary driver."

Sully gave her a momentary look the second he heard the word bodyguard. Out of most people in her life, he knew her almost better than Francesca, so he knew just as well as she did that a security detail wasn't something (Y/N) was in need of. Nonetheless, he kept his polite smile on his face when addressing Harry.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," he said, offering a gentle hand out to shake.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said with a gruff anchor to his voice.

That was all that was shared before (Y/N) stepped into the car, Harry following behind her. Though she was sure Sully felt the same way she did about the situation, he didn't let any of it show when he took his spot in the driver's seat, his eyes meeting hers through the rearview mirror.

"The new place still, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, please," she answered, a soft smile on her face.

As they started the drive through the city, skyscrapers towering on either side of the street and too many people on the sidewalks, (Y/N) pulled out her phone. Though she was aware of Harry's presence on the bench seat beside her only inches away, she ignored him in favor of pulling up Francesca's text thread in her messages.

Fran🫧

are u bringing your bodyguard?????

jk ofc you are he has to come w u everywhere lol is he still cute today tho or was the other day just bc you saw him for the first time????

As much as she loved Franny like a sister, she didn't really want to talk about Harry at the moment. She knew much of brunch was going to be spent talking about her new security or talking around him as all of the girls were going to be varying levels of nosy about it all. (Y/N) didn't have a lot of interest in starting that trend any earlier than needed.

Instead, she began scrolling through her Instagram explore page full of photos of nail art and cooking videos she planned on looking up the recipes for later. Ever-polite, Sully was the one to break the silence that filled the cab of his vehicle.

"How long will you be joining us, Harry?" he asked, kind blue eyes shining in the rearview mirror.

Uninterested as ever, Harry didn't break his gaze from where he was observing through the window. "As long as it takes for her father to be convinced that she's finally grown up."

It was a callous remark, but one (Y/N) had heard before just in a different voice. It was an interesting thing to hear those biting words lack the familiarity of her father's tone. She'd never heard them like that before.

Flicking her gaze up from her phone, she spotted Sully in the mirror through the fan of her lashes. He gave her one of those soft smiles he'd also seen him give his daughter before. It made it a bit easier to let that remark slide off her back when she knew he was on her side.

"Won't be very long then," Sully continued, tipping his chin up in confidence, "It doesn't take very long to see how kind and responsible Ms. (Y/N) is, despite what all those silly magazines like to say."

(Y/N) directed a quiet smile down at her phone. She hoped Sully knew just how much she appreciated him.

—————

"I'll be back around noon, okay?" Sully said, offering a helping hand to (Y/N) as she stepped out of the SUV and onto the grey concrete sidewalk, "Let me know if you need me sooner or want to stay longer."

Nodding her head, she gave him a bubbly smile with soft lips and warm cheeks. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," he answered, squeezing her hand in his as she steadied herself on the concrete.

With Harry at her side, Sully was sent off with a wave from her manicured fingers.

Though it wasn't new to feel eyes on her at time when she was out, it was different to have someone following along with her. His job was to watch her, and he made it known with the way she could feel his gaze stitched to her. He only drifted when he made a point to take in their surroundings.

Was he even supposed to sit with them? Was he going to eat beside her? What was his job when it came to events like this?

(Y/N) tried to think back to what Francesca's bodyguard would do, but she couldn't remember him ever joining them for a meal in public. Barry was typically meant to watch over Fran when no one else was around, leaving those group settings without him. Was Harry to do the same? Was he going to sit elsewhere or guard their table like a circling vulture?

Her head hurt just thinking about it. Harry would do whatever he decided to do, she settled on. This wasn't his first security job, so hopefully he would do whatever he was used to with Camila and Monroe.

Harry pushed the entrance door open for her, taking her by surprise as she stepped into the trendiest brunch spot in the city at the moment. Everything was sleek and warm, glass with golden hinges, wood pieces with uniform swirls and knots. Inauthentic authenticity. Falling into character, a bright smile landed on (Y/N)'s lips, her phone clutched in one hand with her purse hanging from the crook of her elbow. The clack of her heels was drowned out by the sound of chattering patrons and a busy kitchen.

"Hello, how are you?" The young man stationed at the host stand greeted her, a dark denim uniform adorning his form. (Y/N) almost cringed for him; she couldn't imagine how hot it must be to work all day in a heavy outfit like that.

"Hi, I'm good thank you," she greeted, feeling Harry just behind her as if he were breathing down her neck. How would he analyze this conversation? "I'm here to meet a few friends—there should be a reservation under—"

Cutting her off, the boy piped up with, "Francesca, right? She and a few others just got here."

Now that she wasn't so distracted by his outfit, she could see recognition in his gaze. He knew who she was and was definitely peeking over her shoulder to see who her companion was.

"That's them," (Y/N) chirped, canting her head as the boy tapped away at the computer in front of him.

"Perfect," he beamed, glancing up nonchalantly at them, "And will he be taking the sixth seat at the table?"

A clear attempt to fish, but not one (Y/N) was going to be able to ignore. "Yes, please."

The way the boy's eyes brightened had (Y/N) already dreading the articles that she would be tagged in across every social media platform, the headlines teasing about her new "mystery man" with all of the sources being an anonymous instagram account known for spreading gossip. Because that's journalism.

"Follow me," he said, waving his hand as he stepped out from behind the podium.

Harry was a ghost behind her as (Y/N) made small talk with the host, answering with polite chatter about the weather while being led through the restaurant. Through the crowded tables, Francesca and the three other girls they frequently went out with came into view. Glasses of bubbling mimosas and an appetizer of cheese and crackers adorned the table, matching that of the rest of the patrons indulging in the brunch rush.

Francesca was the first to spot them once the host dropped them off with a quiet wish for she and Harry to enjoy their food before he was off again. Fran's eyes lit up when she saw her, only for them to widen that much more when Harry came into view behind her.

"(Y/N)," she cheered, gaining the attention of the other girls who broke their absent chatter to turn to face them. Fran no doubt had told them that (Y/N) would be bringing a guest.

"Hi," she smiled, maneuvering around the table to the two empty seats between Emma and Rita, "Sorry I'm late. My makeup was not doing its job this morning."

Emma piped up then, "No worries, honey! We're just happy you could make it. We already ordered a mimosa for you and some appetizers and all."

Despite the girls seemingly talking to her, their eyes continuously drifted to her companion that ghosted behind her. Pulling out her chair, (Y/N) dropped her purse on the table before looking across from her to where Francesca was sat. Even she was pretending as if she wasn't bubbling in anticipation over Harry.

"Thanks, guys," she said, taking her seat with Harry doing the same beside her, "Everyone, this is Harry. I bet Fran already told you a little bit, but he's going to be my personal security for the next few months or so. We're still trying to figure out how this all works for it, so thanks for letting him tag along today."

"Of course," Kita giggled, leaning with her elbow on the table, "Fran did tell us that you were bringing someone special today."

"Right," (Y/N) laughed, feeling slightly exposed despite the fact none of the girls were even looking at her. "I promised him we'd be on our best behavior today, so don't ruin this for me."

The laughter that bubbled around the table was just a touch too melodious, too airy and light. Francesca even made eyes at (Y/N); she approved of him, that much was obvious.

"I'm sure we'll still have fun with him," Toriana said, her spot right across from Harry making it easy for her to reach across and offer her hand up in greeting, "I'm Toriana, but the girls just call me Ana."

"Nice to meet you," Harry answered, taking her hand into his in that same firm grip (Y/N) remembered.

A domino effect started then, each of the girls taking the time to personally introduce themselves. Toriana and Kita were more than a little interested in him, asking questions right off the bat that (Y/N) wished they would keep to themselves. Franny and Emma seemed to prefer to watch, piping in at moments with their own bubbly comments or peals of laughter. Harry, reserved as ever, barely interacted.

(Y/N) didn't know why she liked that as much as she did. Maybe it was just nice knowing she wasn't the only person he was cold with. Even if he did still end up talking to the girls more than he had all weekend with her.

Soon enough—long enough still that (Y/N) sipped through a glass and a half of water, the cheese plate had dissipated to crumbs, and breakfast orders had been placed—the shine of Harry had finally been lost on the girls. The shorter his answers became the clearer the message that he wasn't interested in sharing became. Though Kita didn't pull too far away from him and Fran had eyes on him every few moments, there wasn't much fun in talking to a wall.

The gossip shifted around the table, new topics being introduced as wait staff appeared to refill drained mimosa glasses. (Y/N) was seventy percent sure she saw one of the denim-clad employees pull her phone out and snap a shot of the table while clearing their small appetizer plates. No one seemed to notice the girl other than she and Harry, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of the camera tilted in their direction. She wouldn't be surprised if the photo captured Harry's harsh gaze.

Ignoring the snooping employee, (Y/N) tried to tune into the story Emma was sharing that had the rest of the table enraptured. As funny and kind as Emma was, she loved to gossip; she loved knowing things, even if the information had nothing to do with her. More often than not (Y/N) preferred to check out of her particularly scandalous stories, just because she knew what it was like to be the name coming off of other's lips in a spit. Francesca was the same, preferring to stay out of it all.

But, this story caught both of their attention for all the wrong reasons.

"Then, I heard that Christal's parents are separating, because her dad also cheated with one of Christal's friends that got an internship at his company," Emma chattered, dipping her chin as if she was actually trying to keep this information a secret for only the table to hear.

Toriana gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth with wide eyes. Leaning over the table, she conspired with Emma in a hushed tone that was far from being any level of quiet, "I heard they were separating because her mom was paying off her doctor to write prescriptions for, like, everything. Her dad is so over it, so he's supposed to be filing officially next week."

The mention of prescriptions and doctors who didn't care to help anymore stung at (Y/N) behind her walls. It was bad enough speaking about Christal and her family dynamics when they barely knew her outside of nights partying in the Upper West Side, but those kinds of rumors weren't something (Y/N) could ever imagine repeating. Drug use and the breaking up of a marriage—no matter the reason—were things none of them should be discussing when they had no idea what was truly going on.

It made (Y/N) think of her own parents and the years of swirling tabloids trying to figure out just how long her parents were on the rocks and what exactly had gone wrong. It was more than invasive.

(Y/N)'s nails quietly tapped on the table as the attention was placed on her, her voice piping up once Emma finally paused for a breath, "We probably shouldn't be talking about this stuff, guys."

Emma was the first to turn to her with a slighted look on her face, surprised to have anyone stopping her in the middle of her speculations. The remaining pairs of eyes turned to her, Francesca the only one that seemed to match her protesting while Kita and Toriana were just as taken aback as Emma.

Saved by the bell, their waitress chose then to appear with trays of their food in her arms. Bowls of salads and plates of eggs were distributed amongst the girls, Harry's order being of avocado toast though she couldn't imagine him picking off more than a couple of bites with the way he was so focused on the scene around him. The women had settled while they were being waited on, beaming smiles and assurances that everything was perfect, they would love a refill, and whatever chattering small talk was started by the waitress in the meantime.

It wasn't until everything had been cleared away, a plate of eggs Benedict with a kale apple salad off to the side in front of (Y/N), that Emma turned to face her once more.

Now she was less shocked and more bewildered that (Y/N) had tried to end her conversation. "Don't you want to know what happened though, (Y/N)?" she asked, incredulous, "Her parents always seemed so obsessed with each other, doesn't that make you want to know even more?"

"Sure," (Y/N) started, "But, it's a little too personal, don't you think? Especially if any of this is true, it's all probably really hard on Christal. I don't think it's fair to talk about it when we don't know anything about it, and she's not even here."

That expression of furrowed brows and parted lips didn't leave Emma's face as (Y/N) spoke. "I mean I guess, but—"

Before she could get much further, (Y/N) couldn't help but to step in. "Honestly, I'd rather hear about you and your fashion designer," (Y/N) started, leaning towards Emma with a conspiratorial smile on her face, "You haven't brought him up at all, even though you've posted him on your story at least five times now."

Watching her friends' features light up told her just how effective her new topic was. There was nothing—not even hot gossip—Emma loved talking about more than herself.

"You mean Stavros? What could you ever want to know about him?" Emma bubbled, acting coy with a lift of her shoulder and flutter of her lashes.

"Stavros?! You never told me that was his name!" Kita chimed in, filling in where (Y/N) had left off.

All it took was Emma starting with a Well... to get the table submitting again to conversation full of bubbling giggles and blushing cheeks, teases of Stavros's name and Emma's story telling about their time together so far. Even Francesca, after shooting (Y/N) a small smile, became invested in the chronicle of Emma's love life.

Falling into silence, satisfied at the reroute of the conversation, (Y/N) finally tried the food in front of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry observing her with calculating eyes, a pinch in his brow.

Suddenly, she felt more exposed than when dozens of cameras were posed in her direction. Was she not supposed to interfere like that? Was this new topic somehow equal to the one Emma had initially embarked on?

Honestly, (Y/N) had almost forgotten about Harry's presence when she stepped in and redirected Emma into safer territory, but now she was wondering if she would have benefited more from keeping her mouth shut. Who knew what he would report back to her father with; how he would spin these events.

"(Y/N), don't you know his cousin? That Ferrill girl we met in Milan?" Francesca's voice chirping out her name had (Y/N) dropping back into the conversation, grateful for a distraction from what she was overthinking in her mind.

"Oh, yeah, Ferrill! She's Stavros's cousin?..."

—————

"You really have to go home?"

Kita's over-pouted lips and pleading pulled a laugh out of (Y/N) as she pulled her into a hug.

"I know, I'm sorry," she started, reciprocating her friend's hold, "You know I'd love to go with you guys if I could, but I already promised I'd call my stylist later today."

"I know," Kita whined, pulling away with her hug still around (Y/N)'s middle, "I just feel like you barely talked this morning, and I miss you."

Despite being around them and having spent the better part of two hours with these girls, (Y/N) missed them too. Kita wasn't wrong in that she barely talked for the morning, Harry being a constant, extra fine sifter that filtered her thoughts before she even had them ready to go. It was hard to talk as freely when she knew he was analyzing every single syllable on her lips.

"I'm sorry," (Y/N) pouted, playing along, "But, I'm sure I'll see you again soon. And, if you want, you can FaceTime me later so I can see what you got."

Kita seemed satisfied with that answer, pulling (Y/N) in for another hug before joining the rest of the women who were beckoning to join them as they started down the sidewalk. Hugs and goodbyes had already been shared amongst the rest of them, Francesca promising to text her before she even had a chance to make it home.

With a final wave from the three of them and calls of "Bye, Harry!", (Y/N) was left by Sully's car with an extra shadow.

The truth was, she couldn't imagine trekking down Fifth Ave with Harry following behind her. It was uncomfortable enough to have him sit and eat with her, even more so thinking about him watching as she chattered with her friends and tried on different pieces of clothing.

"Ready to head home?" Sully asked, hand poised on the handle of the back passenger seat for her.

"Yes, please," she sighed, eagerly stepping in when he pulled open the door for her.

Following behind her, Harry settled in beside her in the back seat, the faux-leather soft under their weight. Sully smoothly integrated himself within the New York traffic, maneuvering around in ways that made (Y/N) that much more grateful that she wasn't the one in charge.

Decompressing, her eyes fluttered closed with her shoulders untensing. It wasn't until now that she realized just how tightly she had been wound during the meal. No wonder she could feel the beginning band of an ache forming in her head.

Breaking the static silence in the cab, Harry asked, "Is it always like that?"

"Like what?" (Y/N) pressed, brows knitting together in the middle though her eyelids didn't flutter.

She could hear the sound of him shifting against the leather. "Like, everything going on at once?"

"A little," (Y/N) admitted, the words leaving on a breathing laugh, "This was on the tamer side. Usually, Toriana will try to debate everyone into agreeing to get a mimosa tower for the table—that's when things start happening all at once."

A beat passed, (Y/N) assuming he was fine with the stopping point of the conversation until he spoke again.

"Y'didn't drink today."

Though it was less of a question and more of a statement, she still answered with, "No."

"Why not?"

Shrugging, her clothing shuffled against the faux-leather. "I don't really like drinking this early—it makes me too tired, so I don't usually do it."

Despite the fact she didn't hear his voice again, (Y/N) could feel Harry's eyes on her through the remaining drive to her apartment.

—————

Laid flat on her back on her bed, (Y/N) raised her hand to look at the time on her phone once more. The closer the clock numbers to ten a.m., the more she wanted to curl up in her sheets.

Dressed in her pastel pink workout set with her hair braided back and tennis shoes on her feet, (Y/N) was more than ready to head to her pilates class. She wanted to luxuriate in her poses and breathing, get a smoothie afterwards as her cooldown, and live her normal routine. The only problem was Harry.

Though she loathed to admit it, she knew he was supposed to accompany her. Even if he wasn't policing her at home, she knew there were no exceptions to the rule of him going with her throughout her day should she chose to go out and about. That was the whole point of his job.

She wanted to do as Francesca had told her—that she still needed to live her life even if it was with an extra shadow—, but, even with the fact that the Sunday brunch had gone well enough, taking Harry to her pilates class was completely different. She lacked friends in her class anyway, and this wouldn't make it any better. Most of the women already judged her enough, adding Harry into the mix wasn't going to help her case in not looking as pretentious and spoiled like they thought.

Maybe, she could get away with only sending him a text? It wasn't as if she were going to an event or a high-profile dinner. Maybe her dad wouldn't care, leaving Harry to not care either. There wasn't much trouble she could get into while controlling her breathing and wiping sweat off the back of her neck, anyway.

Looking at the time once more, she saw the minutes click that much closer to the start time for her usual session. Her chest rose as she pulled in a deep breath.

If she wanted to get there on time and get a good spot, she was going to have to text Harry and move on. Sully was on the way anyway, she had to make her choice now before she had to cancel the car and instead curl up in bed just like she had been for three days since brunch.

The sound of (Y/N)'s nails tapping at her phone screen filled her room as she made to sit up amongst the folds in her duvet.

morning, harry! just wanted to let you know that im headed to my pilates class right now. it should end around 11 and i'll probably grab a smoothie after, so i'll be on my way back to my apartment after that. lmk if you need anything like to get into my apartment or anything like that before im home !

As soon as she pressed send with the blue bubble inflating against the dark background, she locked her phone. She couldn't overthink this whole thing anymore. She had plans she needed to stick to if she wanted to stay normal.

The notification that Sully was downstairs waiting for her couldn't have come soon enough, not when she finished packing her things much too quickly.

"No Harry?" Sully asked once she was secure in the back seat, the morning sun shining on the grimy streets of the city.

Avoiding his gaze in the rearview mirror, (Y/N) shook her head. "Not today."

—————

Buzz-buzz.

(Y/N) cinched her eyes closed tighter at the sound of a phone vibrating deep in someone's bag. her breathing came in even waves, chest rising and falling in even measures.

Buzz-buzz.

One of the other students faltered on their breathing, the teacher pausing just a second too long in-between instructions as everyone heard the incessant noise.

"Now, take a breath and stretch into your high plank," the morning's instructor directed, voice calm in the middle of the studio, "Keep the height to your comfort, no reason to strain past a slight burn."

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened with her hands planted solidly on the mat under her. Her back stretched slowly, legs keeping her steady as she fell back into the rhythm of the session.

Until another round of buzzing started, this string clearly from a phone call that was going to be ignored.

The strength in her core faltered with her eyes cinched to a tight close at the sound.

(Y/N) knew good and well that it was her phone that was going crazy at the bottom of her bag, but there was no way she was going to make that obvious to anyone else in the class. She was sure a good chunk of them already assumed it was her anyway, but that didn't mean she had to admit to it.

Instead, she kept up with the poses and the directions given, ignoring the device as best as she could. She was going to enjoy this class as much as she could before she would be forced to renter her reality.

She already knew what kind of notifications were waiting for her, anyway. Either Francesca and the girls randomly decided to start up another group chat, or Harry wasn't pleased with her decision to head out for the day with nothing more than a text sent his way. Either way, (Y/N) didn't want to deal with either of those things at the moment.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but would the owner of the phone that keeps going off, please, either silence or turn off your phone for the remainder of the class? I'm sure the class would appreciate the chance to keep their focus without any more interruptions."

Despite her tone of voice being respectful and calm as ever, (Y/N) knew the instructor was pissed. No matter how well-paying her clients were, there was no way she could keep standing for disruptions like this. Blinking her eyes open, she saw the rest of the class on the same level as their instructor: just as annoyed but feigning calmness as if the last half hour hadn't been spent ignoring phone call after phone call with text messages in between.

She couldn't get up now, (Y/N) thought. Not when everyone was waiting to see who the culprit was so they could shoot daggers with their gaze. She could only imagine what the post-class powwow of complaints would sound like.

(Y/N) cringed when her phone went off once more, the device rattling against a tube of lipgloss to make it that much lounger.

Fuck. This was worse than waking up and seeing drunken photos of her posted. At least then she didn't have a dozen other people staring at her in the process.

When her phone went off once more in what she hoped was a reminder notification and not another set of messages coming through, (Y/N) couldn't take it anymore. She had to fix this if she wanted to at least be welcomed back.

Just as she went to break her pose, a clatter could be heard on the other side of the door. Muffled voices broke through the curated tranquility of the studio, sounding more and more aggravated as they drew closer to the room she was in. The doorknob twisted, resistance found on the other side when a clear "Sir!" was called through.

A beat later, that resistance was broken, Harry barreling through the door. With a furrow pinching his brow and a blaze in his eyes, he looked just as bitter and grumpy as a stereotypical bouncer and not the seasoned security detail he was. His usual uniform of all black was crumpled and creased with his hair a mess on the top of his head.

"Sir, there is a class in session!" A voice (Y/N) recognized from the front desk of the studio burst in behind him. Harry didn't flinch back for even a second.

The second his gaze landed on her, his jaw hardened. "(Y/N)," he gritted out her name, "Come here, now."

Having crumbled from her pose to sit with her legs folded underneath her, (Y/N) felt stuck where she sat. She could practically spot steam coming from the top of Harry's head. Her skin heated when she felt others' eyes land on her.

This was definitely much, much worse than if she had just answered her phone.

"Harry," she started, unsure of what exactly she was going to say but feeling as if she needed to say something anyway.

His nose flared. "Sully is waiting outside. Let's go."

There was a finality in her tone that had her scrambling to collect her things as soon as possible. The room was silent as she messily rolled her mat and clumsily stepped into her shoes.

A mumbled thank you was offered to the silent instructor as she passed, a matching apology being told to the class though she was sure both sentiments fell on deaf ears. (Y/N) was definitely going to have to switch studios again.

She wasn't surprised to see the rest of the studio having fallen in line, patrons and classes quiet and paused after the ruckus caused on her behalf. (Y/N) could only imagine the photos others snapped of her following after Harry like a puppy with her tail between her legs. She already knew what this was going to look like—the loud scene as well as following after Harry the way she was.

Sully didn't say anything when (Y/N) quickly slipped into the backseat, Harry coming after with a loud slam of the door behind.

The interior was almost humid with the way Harry fumed beside her, his arms a tight cross over his chest and his jaw anchored closed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the way his fingers were curled into fists under the shelter of his arms.

(Y/N) felt silly to be sitting there with her cardigan and leggings, hands in her lap like a reprimanded child.

The silence stretched on as Sully pulled away from the curb, routing directly back to her apartment without question.

It wasn't until there was a stop in the traffic that any of them dared to speak a single word. Of course, it was Harry.

"I don't know what you were thinking this morning," he started, voice deceptively calm, "But, you almost cost me my job with that stunt."

Staying quiet, she didn't know what to say. Honestly, she hadn't really thought about it like that when she left without him this morning. She had only been considering the pit in her stomach and how much she hadn't wanted to disrupt her own life. She acted just as selfish as she was sure Harry thought her to be at her core.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the way Harry's gaze on her profile sharpened. She kept her eyes on her hands.

"I thought we had a good understanding after this weekend, but I think I need to make a few things especially clear for you," he started, (Y/N) finally chancing a look at him. Harry's gaze steeled when she matched him. "When I was given this job, I was told to go with you everywhere, and 'm sure you were told the same thing. I don't care if you think your fathers's company, or the 'public' or whoever you think is my client, because that is not the truth. You are my client, and if you make trouble like this again, I will lose my job. Because of you."

(Y/N) had never been reprimanded like this before, not as fat as she could remember. Her father's scoldings had never been this effective, even when she was young enough to still care what he had to say.

Her throat was dry as she piped up, hoping to explain herself, "It was just my pilates class. I didn't think it would be a big deal."

That seemed to be the very worst thing she could have said with the way Harry's shoulders tensed with hot air with his jaw quirked. His eye contact was unwavering as he glared at her.

"I knew I was going to have to babysit you, but I didn't think it would be this much of a problem. Going forward, I do not care where you are going, I am going with you. I know you don't want me here, so the quicker you follow this and get over whatever princess complex you have after getting everything handed to you, the quicker we'll both be free of this contract. Please keep that in mind the next time you decide to go off with just a text."

Harry's tone was harsh and grating, flaming hot underneath the calm facade he was just well-versed with as her own bubbly princess role. He could rival her father in just how much disdain he held for her.

She couldn't blame his perception of her, really. With the way both her father and the media spoke of her, she could only imagine the kind of person she looked to be in his eyes.

Nonetheless, (Y/N) could still feel that sting of hurt.

But, he was right. Now, she knew where they stood. Now, she could try harder to get over her princess complex and show her father she didn't need a ghost and everything could go back to normal.

If she tried hard enough, she could hopefully still make it to spend the winter in Francesca's family's Swiss cabin free of an extra shadow. That was a goal she could work towards this summer.

"I understand," she told him, checking out of the conversation now that she had her own plan working in the background, her own terms to follow, "I'm sorry I put you in that position. I didn't mean anything by it, I just didn't think it was the kind of thing to bother you over."

Deflating some, Harry blinked, his gaze falling down her features. "Okay," he settled, golden flecks swimming in his irises, "Now, we're both on the same page."

(Y/N) quietly agreed with a small nod.

The rest of the car ride was silent.

—————

Without a second thought, (Y/N) stowed the newest heavy, photo-laden envelope into her drawer of the others. She already knew what kind of pictures would be inside and the kind of story her admirer had spun in her honor. It would be the same photos that had been distributed by the same anonymous Instagram blog that always posted them along with the same story that all the tabloids picked up the next day.

According to the internet as well as a few gullible publications, (Y/N) had shown up drunk to her class and Harry had come to collect her. Harry was also no longer her mystery man, and now her affair partner that she had cheated on Damien Moore with. Damien was also reportedly very hurt to be seeing her with Harry after everything that had gone down. Broken-hearted by the ice queen, one publication had been so bold to claim. Blurry photos accompanied the articles and tweets, with her looking to Harry with watery eyes ("alcohol-glazed") like a reprimanded child as she followed him out.

Her admirer had no doubt clung to the claims that she was in a romantic relationship, their own version of events meandering around it all to erase the legitimacy of the claims along with photos of her back at her apartment without him to solidify their theory. While they would be right this time, that she and Harry were not linked in any way but professional, it still didn't make her feel very safe knowing they had gone to the length they did to verify as much as well as send a letter to prove it all.

It'd been days since the incident and one day since the news hit the circuits, and (Y/N) was more than comfortable hiding out at her apartment to ensure she wouldn't have to deal with anyone, including Harry, until her nail appointment on Thursday. The whole thing was more than stupid, full of baseless claims and low-quality photos. It didn't deserve her attention.

The only thing that had truly caught her off guard, was the lack of phone calls from her father. A full day had passed with the story being tweeted and mocked, and yet there was no scathing text message or berating call sent to her phone. This was just the type of story that would have him up in arms and fuming all throughout the mansion. The longer it didn't come, the more she felt on edge.

Her father was built on being predictable, so when he deviated from the norm she couldn't help but to fear the worst.

Ignoring it all for the time being, (Y/N) returned to her kitchen eager to take her mind off things in the form of trying out one of her stored up recipes.

While she didn't usually have the chance to share it with others, cooking was one of (Y/N)'s favorite pastimes—a therapeutic hobby. She liked putting flavors together and the technique that went into making everything just the way she liked it. There was structure to it all—even the bendable rules gave her guidelines.

Especially when she was attending her private school and spending her time in dorms and weekends alone at her parents' home, food was the one thing she could control that gave her a routine. She liked making cute meals and lunches for her friends at school and taking advantage of the illustrious pantry and fridge she had at home. It was easy to nurture her love for it when there was no other outlet open for her feelings.

While there was nothing special she could imagine herself doing with her passion like she was sure that her father would have wanted, it didn't cheapen the love for her at all. It was the easiest way to fill herself with love even when she felt as if everything around her was hateful.

Turning her phone to silent, (Y/N) happily turned on a rerun of her favorite cooking competition show, and started on her own meal.

—————

élan is a French word that describes the sense of a movement coming; the grace with which time moves towards the next chapter

eeeek! thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and please lmk if theres any fun ideas or thoughts you have!

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killerlookz · 4 days

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hiiiii i adore your writing soooo sooo much!! i was literally dancing in my room to joosts music and i thought of a new fic idea:3 can you write something where Joost comes back home and the reader is dancing to his songs in their apartment, the reader doesnt notice him at first, completely in the moment and when they do, they get all embarrassed and its all fluff and cute??(((:

awww this is so cute <33 ty sm anon!!!

Dance With Me? | Joost Klein

content: gn! reader, no warnings rlly! just fluff :-) the song in question for this fic is Joost Klein 2 btw! this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable

word count: 1.2k(just a wee little blurb!)

Sundays had always been your least favorite day of the week, a bleak reminder that the hours of the weekend were waning and you'd have to return to the monotony of the weekdays. Perhaps the worst part of Sundays was that they were your designated cleaning day, you would much prefer spending your last day free from work lazing on the couch or curled up in bed, but instead, once again you found yourself bouncing around your apartment straightening up whatever cleaning you had left unfinished throughout the week.

The silence of your empty apartment had been getting to you, bored out of your mind as you stood on a chair to dust off a bookshelf. The only thing you figured that would this slightly more tolerable was music at least the apartment wouldn't be so damn quiet.

You hop down from the chair, scurrying into the living room to turn on your speakers. It wasn't long until music was flowing into the apartment, loud, and probably obnoxious to the neighbors, but it hadn't been late enough to warrant a noise complaint- so they would just have to deal with it for now.

Among the many plusses of having a musician for a boyfriend, you had to admit being in possession of a stellar stereo system was definitely one of them. You had been able to hear the music just as perfectly as you pranced back into your bedroom, not exactly eager to get back to cleaning.

Though it would seem not much cleaning would get done after that point, more focused on the music than any of the tasks you had at hand.

"Joost Klein maar m'n stack die is groot!" You sang along with the lyrics that boomed over the speaker. Another plus of having a musician boyfriend was that he was a damn good musician., "De regering zoekt mij, maar ze vinden me nooit!"

You had found yourself jumping around to the music, a smile pressed onto your face as you swayed your head back and forth in time to the beat.

Still jumping, your arms in the air you start to spin around when suddenly the breath is knocked out of you at the sight of a figure in the doorway to your bedroom. Your body grows rigid, stopping dead in your tracks as your mind races to the worst-case scenario.

Luckily it hadn't exactly been the worst-case scenario, as your eyes focused and you were able to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Why'd you stop?" He asks, clearly amused, "I was enjoying your performance. I think you might put me out of a job."

"Joost!" Your voice is sharp like you're scolding him for being in his own home. Your eyes widen at the shock, not having expected him to be home, much less having even heard him walk through the door, "I thought you said you'd be running errands all day."

Embarrassment begins to grow on your face, your eyes refusing to meet Joost's, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as your body grows hot.

"I've actually been gone awhile," He chuckles, "I finished my errands."

"Hmm," You hum, looking down at your feet, "Time flies." You mumble.

"It does when you're having fun, which you looked to be having." Joost muses, an eyebrow-raising behind the thick rims of his glasses.

"Cleaning was getting boring," You shrug, still refusing to make eye contact out of sheer embarrassment.

Joost can clearly sense your unease as his smile still rests on his face, beginning to bob his head up and down, slowly walking towards you with some grove in his step,

"Maar ik blijf Joost en ik bleef in de derde zitten," Joost lowly sings along to his own voice over the speaker, his movements becoming livelier as he gets closer to you, "Soms haat ik kittens en haat ik ook science-fiction."

He grabs your hands, as to ask you to dance with him, but you're reluctant, only holding his hands in front of him as he dances on his own continuing to sing along to his own song.

"C'mon," He urges, "Dance with me?" An exaggerated pout rests on his lips as he stares down at you with big, blue, puppy-dog eyes. You can't exactly resist that look, slowly stepping back and forth to appease his request.

He pulls at your arms as he jumps up and down to the music, just about forcing you to move with more excitement, your embarrassment quickly subsiding as Joost dances in a manner similar to how you had been just moments prior.

"Joost Klein maar m'n stack die is groot!" Eventually, the two of you are singing, bouncing up and down in sync with each other and you can't believe you had ever been embarrassed in front of Joost in the first place. It had seemed so trivial now that the two of you danced together, after four years together you were sure you had seen each other in much more embarrassing situations, you knew better, that he would never pass any judgment on you, "De regering zoekt mij, maar ze vinden me nooit!" You practically yell to each other, oversized grins burned into both of your faces.

The song soon fades out, allowing for a song that wasn't Joost's to start playing.

"You've got some good music taste," Joost teases, the two of your movements dying down.

"Meh," You shrug, "Joost is kind of mid, I think Ski Aggu is better,"

Joost clicks his tongue, shaking his head in joking disapproval,

"You're lucky you're cute." A kiss is pressed against your forehead. The small gesture leaves you with butterflies in your stomach, despite the length of time the pair of you had been together, every touch from him seemed to feel like you were falling in love for the first time all over again.

"You get much cleaning done?" He pulls back

You look around the bedroom, the bed still unmade, clothes strewn upon your dresser, various items scattered around your desk. You feel yourself becoming stressed again at the task ahead of you.

"Not quite." You respond sheepishly, you sigh, "I should probably-"

"It can wait, relax, liefje," Joost cuts you off, "I think we should continue our little dance party."

"Easy for you to say when you've gotten everything you need to get done today,"

"Hmm," Joost puckers his lips, twisting his face into an expression that makes it obvious he's thinking, "How about..." He trails off for a moment, inching closer to you, "You stay here and dance with me, and I'll clean the whole apartment while you're at work tomorrow."

It's an easy proposition to accept, not having to clean? Fine by you.

"Deal?" He asks, smiling down at you.

"Deal," You quickly nod.

"Eh," he holds up a finger, "We need to seal the deal."

You raise your eyebrows up at him, waiting for what he's going to say next,

"You gotta give me a kiss to seal our deal,"

You giggle, standing up on your tip toes, placing both of your hands on Joost's shoulders as you reach up to press your lips to his.

He's quick to kiss you back, resting his hands on your waist as he engages you in a soft, passionate kiss.

"Okay," He nods, "Now it's a deal."

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #rpf #joost klein rpf

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vivwritesfics · 14 days

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I feel like we need a return of witch!oscar

Maybe reader finds one of his books and tries to make a potion from it despite not understanding any of it

No but I started thinking last night I could do a whole witch!oscar thing but i've got so many things to come out first that this might be an eventually situation. For now pls keep sending in witch!oscar

Oscar had been insanely protective over his things when she first moved in. Like, crazy protective, to the point where they fought and she threatened to move out.

(He wasn't ashamed to say he'd begged her to stay. The fighting, though, it wasn't for nothing. It was to keep her safe, even if she didn't understand that. Oscar would do it all over again to keep her safe).

But, as it came to a year of living together, Oscar had stopped this crazy protective thing he had over his stuff. He stopped guarding that bookshelf full of recipe books like a crazed dog and no longer bothered hiding that box full of God knows what under the floorboards under his bed.

(Now, understand, Oscar would have told her. If he didn't think the information would have put her in more danger, he would have told her exactly what he was. It was eating him inside, her not knowing as she slept against him, content in this safe bubble Oscar had created. Created through lies that had him feeling sick and the protection spell he'd put on the apartment).

Even now that Oscar trusted her with his things, he hated leaving her in the apartment on her own for extended periods of time. If he'd just told her what she was, she couldn't be in danger of accidentally cracking open a spell book and messily casting an incantation. But, when the council called, Oscar had to answer.

(She was what this meeting was about, actually. Most witches were solitary creatures, preferring company of their own kind and even that was rare. Oscar was the exception, with his human girlfriend. As much as the other members of the council looked down on it, on their relationship, they knew they had to try and keep her safe from any magical mishaps).

"I didn't even know you had to go on business meetings for your work," she whispered that morning, cheek pressed against her shoulder.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I know," he mumbled. "But I'll be back before you know it."

Before he left, Oscar doubled the protection spell around the apartment. They hadn't been apart for this long since she'd first moved in, and part of Oscar just knew the council was holding the meeting on the other side of the country to test him, to test his patience.

She knew Oscar wasn't going to be in when she got back from work, but that didn't mean she didn't already miss him terribly. Making dinner, something Oscar usually took care of, was a chore that evening.

(It was the only time, aside from the protection spell, that Oscar used magic around her. He was a terrible cook, but it was partly how he'd won her over. Even if she found out what he was, he could never reveal this secret about his cooking).

When she pulled the most basic of ingredients out of the fridge, she spied something on the counter. One of the books from Oscar's shelf. He must have left it there on purpose, she figured. A book full of Australian delicacies he'd left for her so that she didn't miss him too much.

She cracked open the book and decided to make the first thing she saw, some kind of soup.

The ingredients were so odd, but they had all of them in the kitchen cupboards. Gathering up the ingredients, she started about making this odd, Australian soup.

(Maybe, if she looked a little closely, if she'd even considered being a little wary of her boyfriend, she would have noticed that this wasn't a recipe book, and this wasn't a recipe book).

It didn't look like anything Oscar had made. If she wasn't so hungry she would have tossed it and bought a pizza, chalked it up to her (lack of) cooking skills. But her stomach was grumbling and it didn't small that bad.

All it took was a single spoonful. Bless her, she didn't realise she'd made enough to dose an entire football stadium full of people. But one spoonful and she was on the phone to Oscar, crying about how much she missed him in a way that just wasn't her.

"Oscar," she cried through sobs as he thanked his lucky stars that he had a moment to pick up.

"Has something happened?" He asked quickly, panic in his voice.

She sniffled. "Yeah. I fucking miss you and my soup isn't as good as anything you make and I hate it and I want you to come home and I think we should get married and I think we should get a dog."

By the time she'd said the final few words, she was no longer crying. No, she was happy, excited even.

"Oh fuck." Oscar hadn't meant to let that slip, but he certainly didn't think it would make her cry again. "Oh, sweetheart, what have you done?"

It had to be one of those fucking love potions Oscar hated to much. And, to make things worse, it had been his fault. He'd left the book on the kitchen counter, of course she was going to think it was a recipe book.

Damn the council meeting, his girl needed him. "Sweetheart, can you throw the soup away for me?" He asked. There was no response, but Oscar could hear her moving around the kitchen, hopefully doing it.

"Done. It was gross anyway," she mumbled.

He let out a laugh, if only to comfort her. "Great. Go and get changed into one of my shirts and get into bed. I'm on my way and I'll make you something proper when I get home."

"Hurry back?"

"Of course."

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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hometoursandotherstuff · 9 months

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This looks like such a normal house. It looks like a development I once lived in. It was built in 2007 in Calhoun, Tennessee, but there's nothing ordinary about it. 3bds, 4.5ba, $424,900.

I was not expecting this. Do you see how the tile curves where it meets the wood? Interesting.

This is actually the kitchen.

Believe it or not, those 3 arches are the kitchen.

Check this out- they took the appliances, but if you want to go to the fridge, you go to the alcove on the left. To cook, you go to the one on the right where the stove is. Then, when it's time to load the dishwasher, that's in the middle pantry. How inconvenient is this? Running back & forth, in and out. What psycho designed this kitchen?

If you need water to cook, the sink is in here. I have never seen anything like this.

Double-sided fireplace so you can enjoy it in the kitchen and the living room. Stairs to the bedrooms are on the right.

I think that this is the primary bedroom. Is that a window above the double window?

The en-suite bath and closet.

The rooms are such odd shapes. What's up with the floor? Did they "pickle" it with white paint?

This room has a large deck.

Very large bath, too. Either the new owner has to take a toothbrush to that grout or have it redone.

The hallway has a bookshelf wall.

This bedroom seems to have a dance floor. What is that white tile? A pattern? Honestly, it looks like 1st base.

This room has a tile floor and a small en-suite.

Stairs to the rec room.

This is a very large space and you can walk right out to the yard.

There's a bathroom down here, also. Why do they put teeny tanks on the new toilets? They look out of proportion.

You can see from the back of the house that the ground floor is partially underground. There's a garage, but no driveway, just lawn.

The patio is attached to a 2 car garage.

The lighting on the ceiling is pretty cool.

This home and the neighbors are in a clearing and this particular home has 5.3 acres of land.

#unusual homes #modern architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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How would konig react if reader left? like maybe without a trace n just disappeared cause she couldn’t anymore?

Hehehe... No one escapes König.

TW/CW: Can we just all agree that toxic!König is a trigger warning on its own from now on? I mean, it's the regular: stalking, harassing, sexism, potential killing(s)... also light angst (featherlight if you compare to the "cheating on König" answer.)

I mean, sure, he would be upset if he found out reader is trying to get away from him. He's not stupid. König knows he's built different (in more ways than one) and knows he will never be the man reader deserves. Still, he is fixed on the idea that they belong together. They are carved from the same tree. She is the moon to his sun, the light to his darkness. Wherever she goes, he goes. It should be the other way around, but if the woman of his dreams plays hard to get... Sure, he'll entertain her.

If someone approaches reader, König gets very territorial. Those poor souls get threats, maybe even some stabbing – this really depends on the situation. But if reader tries to detach or leave the relationship, he would observe this change in behavior with curious anxiety.

If drastic measures are taken and she tries to escape or make a disappearing act, König would simply do everything he can to find her. And let me tell you: this man can and will outwit anyone who doesn't share his background and training. So unless reader gets some actual, skilled, professional help from outside, she doesn't have much of a chance.

And when König eventually finds her, he would try to talk her back. Just persuade, persuade, persuade. Apologize if and when he has done something wrong. Shower her with attention and compliments and gifts. Beg, even – on his knees like a lovelorn knight. If reader says it's over and she doesn't want to continue the relationship, it would break his heart. But that would only last for a day or two. He knows who he belongs to and most of all, who belongs to him, so he would form a plan. König wouldn't get too discouraged.

He would simply draw his shoulders back and stay around. For years, if need be. After all, he already won her heart – he will do so again. He promised he would never let her go.

He would check up on her, be very suave and gentlemanly about it. Reader can always talk to him if she needs someone to turn to. They can at least remain friends, right?

If she answers his calls, he would at some point come over. Uninvited, yes, but just to pay a brief visit... See if she needs something. He is always willing to help should reader need something. A bookshelf needs to be assembled? He's on it! Reader needs a ride somewhere? He's already on his way. Whatever it is, he can do it. (He will show her how useful he is, verdammt noch mal.)

If reader tries to see others... uh-oh. König would start by threatening the possible candidates. No one would stay around for long to oppose this man. If they did, well, death sentence for them! Or at least a new hole somewhere. While he sort of knows that what he's doing is wrong, he also can't stand the idea of someone laying eyes, let alone a finger on her. He can't stand the thought of spending the rest of his life without her, because if she were to find someone new, someone better, he would watch that shit from afar and slowly break to pieces. And that's just not an option.

One slip of a comfort fuck, and she wouldn't get him out of her house. He would view it as a sign that you're back together again no matter what you tell him. Also, did I say comfort fuck? I meant mad, pent-up pounding that lasts the whole night. The sheets would be in shreds, reader would be covered in sweat and cum and tears and bite marks made in the heat of passion and frustration. The cuddles that follow nearly leave her bruised. König has missed her SO much 💞

So, the cocktail would be: hunting her down, harassing, stalking and "helping" her, bullying her dates... Our king would even resort to simping 🥺.

But König would only say he's in love. He will simply never find another you ❤️. (And you're not allowed to find anyone else either.)

He would view it romantic in a way: reader forces him to woo her all over again! As we already know, hunter/prey dynamics only give him a thrill. She must like the setting too. Why else would she do something like this? "Women and their games…" That would be his thought, accompanied with a shrug.

#answered #here we go again #könig headcanons #yandere könig #obsessive könig #possessive könig #good morning #könig x reader

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lucidlivi · 1 year

Text

Fuck A Friendship

Warnings: Strong Language, Mature Theme (rough sex), Mentions of Alcohol

Requested: @suckitands33

Anything Jensen/Dean Tags: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester

this will switch point of views, it will be indicated with italics

Reader

“what the fuck is wrong with you Dean? I had that!” I seethed.

Once again Dean had got in the way.

“yeah okay, you’re lucky I was there to save your ass…again!” He huffed throwing his bag down.

“hate to break it to you Dean but acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger.”

I could see his eyes cloud over in rage.

“at least I’m not acting like an ungrateful bitch.” He jabbed.

“a bitch wow really? well then in that case I guess that means you’re not the only dog in the room.” I said rolling my eyes.

“maybe with all that eye rolling you’ll actually find a brain in that pretty little head of yours.” He smirked his words laced with anger.

“awe Dean I think you’re pretty too… pretty damn annoying.”

It was no secret Dean and I butted heads. I was sick of him treating me like a child. It was bad enough he treated Sam that way but now he was constantly looming over me too. I walked in to the study but of course he followed me. He always had to get the last word in any argument.

“how about we just skip right to the makeup sex.” Dean sneered.

“I’d rather set myself on fire.”

“oh please I know you think about me naked.” Dean said.

“why can’t you just drop things Dean?” I asked pulling a book out to research some lore.

I always calmed down faster when my mind was distracted.

“you didn’t deny it.” He smirked.

“please Dean feed your own ego, I’m busy”

“Oh come on just admit it, you want to have sex with me.”

“please, if anyone is having wet dreams it’s you about me.” I huffed flipping a page.

Dean smirked before ripping his shirt off.

“so then this doesn’t bother you at all?” He asked looking at me.

I huffed closing the book. I turned to Dean, he had a shit eating grin on his face that made me want to punch him.

I couldn’t deny though, his toned chest was gorgeous, especially the way it glistened with sweat after our rough hunt. My eyes traveled down to his abs, god they looked good too and… wait what am I saying?

“nope doesn’t bother me at all.” I said maybe a little too quickly.

“really cause it took you a minute.”

I quickly pulled my shirt over my head leaving me in just my bra. Dean looked shocked by my action.

“so this doesn’t bother you at all then?” I smirked.

I watched Dean’s pupils dilate as his eyes raked over my chest. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to meet mine again.

“nope doesn’t bother me at all.” He spoke.

“so it wouldn’t bother you if I did this?”

I quickly grabbed the waistband of my pants sliding them down my legs painfully slow. Dean watched me with a lustful stare. I could see his jeans getting tighter around the crotch area. I didn’t know what had gotten in to me. I just wanted Dean to see I wasn’t this helpless child he had to look after.

Dean looked at me before taking his own pants down. We were now both stood in the study in just our under garments. There was a pause of silence as our eyes devoured each others body.

Dean crossed the room in two quick strides, crashing his lips to mine. I immediately kissed him back my hands going to his toned chest starting to explore. His hands made their way to my ass, picking me up and forcing me to wrap my legs around him.

He backed us up so my back was pressed up against the bookshelf. His lips left mine and traveled to my neck and down my collarbone. I could feel him throbbing against my leg. In one swift action Dean unclasped my bra letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck.” He whispered mouth traveling further down to my uncovered breasts.

I let out a moan as Dean took one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. My hands ran across his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms.

“you want this?” Dean growled, his hands squeezing my ass.

Of course I thought about having sex with Dean. He was undeniably gorgeous, even after a hunt.

“Please Dean.”

His hands left my ass, pulling his boxers down. I gasped as his full length sprung out. I had seen Dean in his boxers once before but now he looked much bigger. Without warning he pulled my panties to the side slamming himself in to me. I choked back a loud moan as I stretched around him.

He started to thrust, pressing my back harder against the bookshelf. He brought his lips back to mine taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I whimpered as he bit down lightly, his thrusts getting more rough as he went.

“Fuck Dean.” I moaned.

I gripped the bookshelf trying to steady myself.

Dean growls thrusting harder. It was rough but tender at the same time.

“maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” He groans, thrusts becoming sloppy.

“not likely.” I pant.

Dean groaned as his legs started to shake. He was close, as was I.

“Dean I’m gonna.” I started but he cut me off.

“Fuck, let go for me sweetheart.” He groaned.

I came undone, his words mixed with the pleasure being too much to bare. As I clenched around him, it brought his release too. I could feel the bruising already forming as my back was slammed against the bookshelf repeatedly. Once we rode out our high, Dean gently placed me on my feet again.

I took me a second to get my footing, my legs feeling stiff.

“you’re fucking stubborn, you know that? He growled, cleaning himself off.

“and you’re an overprotective asshole so it kind of evens out.” I smirked.

I quickly grabbed my clothes throwing my shirt back on and pulling on my pants.

“I’m going to clean up .” I said walking out of the room.

“wait..” Dean said making me pause.

“this..” he pointed between me and him “we shouldn’t tell Sam.”

“there’s nothing to tell Dean, we fucked, that’s it.” I said walking out of the study.

Dean

I watched her walk away, quickly throwing on my clothes. I’ve had sex with a lot of women, but something about it this time felt different. I shook it off, hearing the door opening signifying Sam had made his way back to the bunker.

“why do you look all sweaty?” He asked giving me an awkward look.

“I uh was, I mean it was uh a rough hunt.”

What the fuck? Why was I fumbling over my words? I never do that?

“wow what happened to the bookshelf? Sam asked pushing past me.

The books from where I had her pushed up against the shelf were in complete disarray, falling out on to the floor.

“I was looking for something.” Her voice spoke up from the doorway.

“I’ll fix them.” She added walking over and picking a book off the floor.

“I’ll help.” I offered leaning down next to her.

I studied her face as she focused on putting some loose leaf pages back in a book.

Did she always have light freckles over her nose? Were her eyes always that color?

“Why are you staring at me?” She whisper yelled so Sam couldn’t hear.

I cleared my throat tearing my eyes away from her.

“I’m not.” I defended even though I totally was.

I picked up another book putting it in its place. I gulped as I stared at the bookshelf.

The sounds of her heavenly moans filled my head. I could still see her naked body pressed up against it. I could feel myself getting harder just thinking about it. I quickly walked out of the study not wanting to get caught by Sam.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Dean where are you going, I have more information about a case?” Sam asked annoyed.

“Uh I’m starving I’m getting us some dinner and then I’ll be back.” I said hurrying away from her.

I stopped by my room, trying to control my breathing. I ran in to my bathroom, splashing some cold water on my face.

“get it together Dean.” I said to my image in the mirror.

Normally when I had sex with a girl, it was forgotten after I came. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about it now? I decided I needed to go for a drive, get some food and then maybe I’d be able to face her again.

Reader

“what’s his problem?” Sam asked as we watched Dean hurry out of the room.

I bit my lip shrugging my shoulders.

“did something happen on the hunt?” He asked scratching his head.

something definitely happened, but it wasn’t on the hunt.

“nope, hunt went perfect.” I lied as I finished arranging the books back to their original positions.

“I’m confused Dean said it was rough?”

Fuck.

“oh yeah, just a little, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

It was amazing how easily I could lie to Sam.

“well are you okay?” Sam asked placing a hand on my back.

I flinched at the contact, my back sore from being slammed against the bookshelf by Dean. I bit my lip as the memory replayed in my head. I never realized how strong Dean truly was.

“I’m great.” I said giving him a thumbs up.

He looked like he didn’t believe me but thankfully he didn’t push any farther. I sat in the study looking over a book. My eyes were reading the words but my mind was too preoccupied.

Why did Dean leave so quickly? Why did I care?

It was around an hour later before Dean came strolling back in, food for all of us in his hand. He swallowed hard as he came closer to me handing me some food. He turned away from me quickly, taking the farthest seat away from me.

Sam started to tell us the information but I wasn’t really listening. My eyes traveled to Dean. His hands gripped the arms of the chair he sat on.

God have his hands always looked that nice? I imagined them wrapping around my throat making me bite back a moan.

Why am I thinking of Dean in this way?

I felt my cheeks flush as I tried to focus on what Sam was saying. I glanced at Dean as he spoke, I noticed the way his adams apple bobbed up and down with his deep voice. I could feel the heat pool between my legs. I needed to get away from Dean, I needed a drink.

“Is that all?” I asked, noticing both men had stopped talking.

“uh yeah I’m finished if that’s what you mean.” Sam said slightly offended by my outburst.

“Sorry Sammy rough day, I’m going to the bar for a drink.” I said standing up.

“I’ll go with you.” Dean spoke.

“NO” I spoke too quickly.

“I mean uh maybe I’m trying to meet someone.” I said mentally facepalming.

Why did I say that?

I could see Dean’s eyebrows lower as he stared me down. I quickly walked out of the room, throwing on my leather jacket. I couldn’t control my thoughts around Dean, I had to get away from him. I walked to the local bar having a seat and ordering a straight shot.

Why was Dean suddenly controlling my thoughts?

“excuse me, this seat taken?”

I turned around to see a handsome stranger staring down at me. He wasn’t Dean but, maybe a distraction would be nice.

“it is now.” I said pulling it out for him.

Dean

“I mean uh, maybe I’m trying to meet someone.” she spoke.

Meet someone?

I couldn’t help but feel the anger boiling up to the surface. It wasn’t even twenty four hours ago that she was wrapped around me and now she wants to meet someone?

Wait why did I even care if she met someone else. She said it herself, we fucked and that’s it.

“okay what the hell is up with you two?” Sam asked as she left the room.

“nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grumbled.

“you’re both being extra weird today, leaving in a haste, she’s flinching when I put my hand on her back..” he says but I cut him off.

“she flinched?” I asked in concern.

I knew I went rough, but I didn’t think I’d actually hurt her.

“did something happen to her?” Sam asked.

oh something definitely happened to her.

“nah, she’s tough.” I said standing up.

I don’t know why, but I needed to get to the bar. If she really was meeting someone, I had to make sure they weren’t some type of creature who was going to hurt her.

“come on Sammy, let’s go.” I said grabbing my jacket.

“where are we going?”

“to the bar.” I simply said.

“but she didn’t want you there.” He spoke crossing his arms across his chest and looking at me suspiciously.

“we’re going for you, you need to get laid, you’re way too uptight.” I said slapping a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged following me to baby. It was a quick drive to the bar. Once inside my eyes scanned the room for her. She sat at the far end of the bar, a man sitting beside her. I glared at him as she laughed at whatever bullshit joke he was telling. I could feel my blood boil as he placed a hand on her knee traveling up to her thigh.

“yeah we’re definitely here for me.” Sam joked.

I flicked my eyes to his but instead he was looking down at my hands. I didn’t notice but they were clenched into fists as I watched her flirt with him.

What am I feeling?

“it’s called jealousy.” Sam spoke beside me.

How did he read my mind?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I scowled ordering a beer.

I tried my best but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her at the end of the bar. I noticed she removed his hand from her leg instead holding it with her own. He leaned down whispering something in to her ear making her laugh again.

“what do you think he’s saying?” I asked looking over to where I thought Sam sat.

Sam was instead sat a few feet away from me, a cute brunette all over him.

“I’ll be damned Sammy.” I laughed watching her kiss over his neck.

I looked down at my beer chugging the rest of it down. I felt a hand slide across my shoulders, I flinched looking up to see a blonde in barely any clothing.

“what’s a handsome guy like you doing all by himself?” she asked, her fingers grazing my neck.

I pulled away gently.

“I guess I was waiting for someone like you.” I flirted.

This was the type of girl I usually picked up at the bar. She was more than willing to throw herself at me. She put her hands around my shoulders, wasting no time in kissing my jaw line.

I glanced back over to the end of the bar but I didn’t see her anymore. My eyes furiously looked around the room, finally catching a glimpse of (y/n) leading him out of the door by his hand. I quickly stood up causing the blonde to fall on the floor.

“what the hell is your problem.” she whined fixing her skirt.

“sorry I gotta go.” I said rushing out the door.

I didn’t want her to go home with him. She couldn’t.

I ran outside whipping my head around to see where she went. My heart sunk as she was nowhere in sight.

Fuck I was too late. She was gone.

“Fuck.” I growled running a hand through my hair.

“are you looking for me?”

Reader

I laughed at another joke he told. It wasn’t actually that funny but I didn’t want to bruise his ego. Too quickly his hand was placed on my knee traveling up to my thigh. I glanced up, my eyes catching sight of Sam first due to his height. Dean stood right beside him glaring in my direction.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

“did you hear me?”

James asked, or was his name Jake, I couldn’t remember now.

“sorry no I missed that.” I admitted.

James/Jake started to tell his story again but my eyes were on Dean who now took a seat at the bar. James/Jake’s hand was still rubbing my thigh making me slightly uncomfortable now. I grabbed it off, holding it in my own hand.

“so yeah I’m kind of a big deal now.” He whispered in my ear.

I laughed at him again. I didn’t know if it was an appropriate reaction to what he said but it usually worked for these types of situations. I glanced up at the other side of the bar, seeing a brunette ferociously attacking Sam’s neck with her lips. I laughed to myself. I noticed a blonde with minimal clothing making her way over to Dean. I felt the jealousy creeping up as she ran a hand across his shoulders.

“you’re not in to this are you?”

I flicked my eyes back to James/Jake. He was staring at me with a slight smile.

“i’m sorry Jake.” I said guessing on his name.

“it’s uh James.” He laughed.

“fuck right, sorry again.” I muttered.

“it’s that guy isn’t it?” James asked nodding his head towards Dean.

I didn’t know what it was about Dean though. It’s as if I was starting to see him in a whole new light.

“something about him yeah.” I replied biting my lip.

“I should go then, and you should talk to him.” James said offering me a smile.

I glanced back over seeing Dean giving his attention to the blonde girl all over him.

“I’ll walk you out.” I offered.

James smiled gratefully and walked with me out of the bar.

“uh I’m really sorry again.” I said dropping his hand finally.

“it’s okay, really. I hope you can sort out whatever it is.” he said offering me a small wave before getting in his car and driving off.

I sighed moving to lean against the side of the building. I sighed running a hand through my hair.

Why was I feeling this way?

Suddenly the door flew open, Dean came running out. He was furiously looking around, his eyes widening as he looked around the parking lot.

Was he looking for me?

“Fuck.” He growled running a hand through his hair.

“are you looking for me?” I hesitantly asked coming off the wall.

relief flooded Dean’s features as he spotted me.

“you didn’t go home with him?” he asked unsure if he was actually seeing me now.

“he’s not really my type, plus I don’t have sex twice with two different people in the same day.” I joked taking a step towards Dean.

“oh yeah, what about twice with the same person? Dean asked.

I could feel my cheeks heat up as he stood in front of me, cupping my cheek with his hand. He looked down at my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“It depends on the person.” I smirked.

“Me?”

“I think I could make an exception for you.”

At my consent Dean attached his lips to mine. I didn’t realize just how much I missed this sensation. Dean picked me up bridal style not breaking the kiss. He walked over to his car, depositing me in the back seat before climbing on top of me.

I reconnected our lips, tugging at his shirt. He pulled it over his head, dipping down to kiss my neck.

“Dean, wait.” I said pushing him off.

I could see the hurt flash in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I said biting my lip.

He gave me a confused look.

“I don’t know if I can have sex with you and still maintain a friendship afterwards.” I explained biting my lip.

“fuck a friendship.” Dean said.

It was my turn to give him a confused glance.

“I don’t want a friendship, I want so much more than that, I want to be the one you laugh at, I want to be the only guy who gets to touch you. I want so much more.” He confesses.

I felt my heart burst at his words. As a hunter, love and relationships weren’t a luxury we were afforded.

“if I’m being honest, it scares me to death and I tried to stop it, I tried my best, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” Dean added looking in my eyes.

He was saying everything I was thinking.

“fuck a friendship.” I said pulling him down for a kiss.

love and relationships were a luxury, but so was Dean, and this was one luxury I’d let myself afford.

Author Note:

Ooh I hope you liked it! I appreciate the request! Sorry it took me so long I wanted to make it perfect for you! If you have some crazy ideas send them my way! xoxo

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x you #sam and dean #jensen x reader #request #supernatural #supernatural smut #spn

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sanguineterrain · 1 month

Note

Sanne can we get a part 2 for reporter!reader?? Picking up where it first left off their first night in the same home - and there's only 1 bed! - and reader shares the bed with him with the promise of not looking at his unmasked face in the middle of the night? And like them realizing over the next few days that they have very similar habits like tendencies to work throughout the night once they've got a lead and not having a set sleep schedule/unconventional sleeping hours.

OKAY HERE WE GO! be fed my lovelies <3 didn't exactly do one bed but hopefully you like it anyway ;) pt 2 of this

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. nightmares, hurt/comfort, jason sexy mf todd being a domestic dreamboat. 2.4k. pls enjoy

****

The Red Hood's apartment is... not at all what you expected.

It looks lived in. It, as awful a thought as it is, looks like an actual person lives here.

And it's not that you didn't know that Hood has a life outside of shooting and scaring, but the giant ficus and the overstuffed bookshelf seem paradoxical to everything you know about Hood.

You're realizing that you don't know him at all.

"So, uh." Hood awkwardly gestures to the apartment. "This is it. Welcome."

"It's nice," you say, stepping over the threshold. "Really nice. I'm a little jealous, Red."

"What can I say? Being public enemy number one is surprisingly lucrative."

You wander to the kitchen. There's a picture of him and a red-headed masked man who looks vaguely familiar. The man is smiling, his arm around Hood. There's a city skyline behind them you don't recognize.

"Where's that?" you ask. You don't expect him to answer.

"Morocco."

"I didn't know you had friends," you say, studying the Welcome to Vegas! magnet that's holding up the picture.

"Ouch."

"No, I—" You turn, shaking your head. "Sorry, no. I meant, like, people you do fun things with."

"Mm, yeah, I know what a friend is."

"Red, you know what I mean. I didn't know you took selfies and kept plants and read."

"Thought I was friendless and illiterate, huh?" He leans against the kitchen table, fist tucked under his helmet. "Y'wouldn't be the first."

"Hood—"

He snorts, shoulders shaking. You stop.

"That's not funny," you say, rolling your eyes. "Jerk."

"It's a little funny. You're always so sharp with your words, smartypants. No, while I'm very literate, friends are admittedly far and few. Arsenal's my closest friend."

"Is he also a crime lord?"

"Nah. Way better guy than me."

You look back at the picture and wonder how often Hood gets to experience joy. And when was the last time he had a vacation?

You feel a gentle tug at the back of your jacket.

"C'mon. You can snoop more later, promise. Lemme show you your room."

Hood takes your suitcase before you can protest. You follow him down the hall. There's one door to the bathroom—the other is to a single bedroom.

The bedroom is nice, bigger than yours at home. It's sort of what you expected (i.e., the mounted katanas on the wall) but also not (a giant framed poster of the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film).

Holy hell. You're in the Red Hood's bedroom.

"Hood, I can't sleep here," you say, watching as he puts your suitcase in the corner.

The bed has been made, sheets tucked in without a single wrinkle. They're in various shades of red. You're sure Hood thinks he's hilarious.

"Why? If the swords are putting you off, I can move 'em."

"No, it's—I can't take your room, Hood. There's no way I'm doing that."

He shakes his head. "No, trust me, it's for the best. That couch is only comfortable to sleep on after a dose of painkillers."

"Dude, I am not making you sleep on the couch in your own house."

"Well, dude, I'm the host, and I'm the big and scary Red Hood, so what I say goes."

"Like either one of us actually believes that," you say, brushing past him to grab your suitcase. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed. It's–it's very sweet of you to offer. But you physically exert yourself every day. You need a comfortable bed more than I do. Besides, it's not like I'll be here for long."

Hood steps in front of you, casually blocking your exit.

"Well, try this on for size: my room is more secure than my living room," he says. "If someone were to break in, they'd have to get through me out there first."

That... is, unfortunately, a good point. You're still extremely paranoid after the assassination attempt two nights ago.

"You're so manipulative, y'know that?" you grumble, leaving your suitcase where it is.

"I know. I come from a real fucked up family." He doesn't sound too put out by it.

"But if you get injured on patrol, I'm sleeping on the couch."

He pats your shoulder. "'S cute you think you can bargain in my house, smarty."

****

Dinner goes well. Hood makes beef bolognese and it's delicious. You take an extra long time in the bathroom before bed so Hood has enough time to eat, considering his refusal to remove his helmet. You'd offered to blindfold yourself—he'd just laughed.

"Sure you don't want your room? It is, after all, yours," you say when you come out, fresh from your shower.

Hood glances at you briefly from where he's washing dishes. He's out of his jacket and suit, now only in jeans and a white t-shirt. Your face feels hot for some reason.

"I'm sure. Cute robe."

"Oh." You look down at the Wonder Woman robe your friend gave you. "Thanks. Got it for my birthday."

"I'll have to get myself one too," Hood says, drying a glass with a polka dot tea towel. "Big Wonder Woman fan."

"Yeah? We solve this case, and I'll get you all the robes you want, Red."

"Tempting."

You chew your lip as you watch him clean up. "Want any help?"

"Go to sleep, star reporter." He sounds amused.

"You try to be a polite guest only to get shot down..." you mumble.

On your way to Hood's room, you get distracted by a pile of documents on the coffee table. You stop, picking up the corner to read one. They're about the case, about all the labs that might be involved in the experiments.

Well... you can read just one. It seems like Hood's compiled a lot of information on his own.

You stand for a bit until your legs grow tired. Then you sit on the couch, making notes of what you do and don't know on a nearby writing pad.

"Did you get lost?"

Hood's watching you, leaning against the wall. It's weird to see his bare arms. His very sculpted, muscled arms. You think you peek a tattoo on his bicep.

"My attention was caught," you say, unrepentant. "Anyway, there's a lot of stuff I haven't seen. You've been holding out on me, Red."

"'S just theories, mostly. Didn't feel it was relevant to mention without hard proof."

"Ever hear of a work-life balance?" you ask.

Hood walks over and joins you on the couch, making the cushion dip. You bump shoulders briefly, before you move.

"Look who's talking, Pulitzer prize," he says.

"That's a very reasonable goal, and I'm not obsessed with it. You're just a workaholic. I have activities outside of wo—oh my God, work!"

You shoot up from the couch, panicked. "Fuck. Fuck! I haven't shown up in two days! I'm—"

"Hey, easy," Hood says, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table. "I called you out. Said you had the flu. No biggie."

"How did you call me out?"

He shrugs. "Pretended to be your boyfriend. Girl on the line was kinda rude about it. Didn't believe me at first."

"Red, I believe we've talked about these invasions of privacy."

"I'm just fulfilling my host duties. Is it true you haven't taken a day off in two years?"

You sigh. "Yes, okay? Fine. I'm a workaholic, too. That's why Jane, the secretary you spoke to, was so sassy about my having a boyfriend. It's pretty unbelievable."

"That's ridiculous. You could totally get a boyfriend. Some guys don't mind that."

"Like you?"

Hood tilts his head in acknowledgment. "Sure. Like me."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly most men."

"And thank God for that."

You look at each other for another moment. Hood's tattoo is in clear view now: it's a bird surrounded by flowers. You can't tell the species of either one.

"Cool tattoo," you say, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth.

Hood turns his arm so the ink is hidden. "Thanks."

"Right." You start to walk backwards. "I think... I'm gonna go to bed."

"Sure," he says. "If y'need anything, holler."

"'Kay. Thank you for dinner. You're a great cook."

"You flatterer."

You smile. "Gotta stay in the Red Hood's good graces."

You start to walk away.

"Do you—waffles?"

You stop and turn. "Sorry?"

"I, uh... do you like waffles? For breakfast," he says. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. Nervous habit.

"I love waffles for breakfast."

Hood nods. "Great. Good. Then I'll... we'll have those."

"Please don't wake up early just to make breakfast, Red."

"You're my guest. I'll do whatever I want."

You don't recall the prospect of waffles ever making your heart hammer in your chest. Weird.

"Right. Well, goodnight," you say.

"G'night, smarty."

****

You turn the case details in your mind over and over. It's better than thinking about beef bolognese and peeks of skin you shouldn't see and how Hood's sheets smell like lavender.

But you fall asleep thinking about robins. You don't know why. You can't recall ever seeing a robin in Gotham.

You're on a rooftop. It's the roof you met Hood on, all those months ago. There's a robin nesting with its babies on the crumbling bricks.

The sky is a sick shade of green. You see horrible faces in the shadows on the roof.

That face from the night of the attack returns. He's hideous. You remember the stench of his breath, the way his eyes bulged. He grins at you across the roof.

"He should've killed me when he had the chance," he says, voice distorted.

You look around. The robin is gone. Blood drips from your stomach.

You turn and your attacker is there, inches away. He plunges the knife into you again and again. You can't move. This is it. You will die.

You wake up to wet cheeks. You're hot, and you're screaming. You've died.

A cool, rough hand grabs your arm and you fight because you can't die, you won't die. Not today.

"Hey. Hey, hey! It's me, 's J—Hood. It's Hood."

The room is almost entirely dark, save for a sliver of light from the cracked curtains. You can't make out his face. His voice is different. Clearer. He's without his helmet.

You reach out and feel soft hair. The curve of a neck. A bicep. A warm, bare chest.

"Sure, honey. Cop a feel if that makes you feel better," he murmurs.

Your face screws up and you start to cry.

"Shit," Hood whispers. "Shit, shit. Can't get the comforting thing right, can I?"

The bed dips with his weight. Arms wrap around you. You launch yourself into those arms, that solid chest.

"He g-got me in the dream," you choke out. "He killed us, Red. I'm so scared."

"Nobody's getting me or you. I promise."

Hood's jaw is smooth. His hands are big on your back, rubbing circles. His bare knee bumps yours.

You clutch him tighter. He hums.

"'S okay," he says. "It's alright. I got ya. He can't hurt you. I'd tear apart anyone who tries."

He lets you cry for several minutes, petting you all the while. Hood's body is warm, almost unnaturally so, but his hands are cool. He engulfs you completely.

You wonder what color his hair is. His eyes. What shape his nose is. His... lips.

"God, I'm a terrible guest," you mumble after you've caught your breath. "Fuck. I'm so sorry to wake you."

He hums, the sound going through your chest. "Don't worry. I don't sleep much. And you're not the worst guest I've had. My brother stayed with me for a few days last month. That was hell."

"You have a brother?"

"Four, actually. And a sister."

"Wow. Do they know you're...?"

"Yeah. It was a whole thing. They're over it now."

"Cool family."

Hood grunts. "They're... something."

You smile and close your eyes. "You're not who I thought you were, Red."

"Yes, I know. Friendless and illiterate."

You pinch his side. He clucks his tongue in response.

"Cheeky," he says, the gravel in his voice shooting down your spine like lightning.

You pull back, suddenly aware of how long you've been touching him. Hood lets you have your space, scooting to the edge of the bed.

"You know what I mean," you say, glad it's dark and Hood can't see your wide eyes. "Not like that."

"I know. You thought I was a monster, ugly and alone, sleeping in a cave."

Blindly, you reach for his face, feel the shape of his jaw, his chin.

"Doesn't feel like an ugly face to me," you say quietly.

He exhales like you punched the air out of him.

"Trust me," he says. "The dark hides a lot."

You frown and pull away. "I didn't think any of those things, Red. I thought... I thought you were one-track minded. Now I realize that you're probably better adjusted than I am."

"Oh no, I got issues. Believe me. Definitely more than you. Not that it's a competition. 'Cept if it was, I'd win."

You smile. "Title is all yours, big guy. Gotta be a little crazy to do what we do."

"Sure. But you're the bravest soul I know. 'Cause you weren't forced into this. You hunted down the story yourself."

"Brave or stupid?" you ask.

"Brave. But it's a fine line."

Nope. It's definitely more stupid than not, clinging to the Red Hood in his own bed in the name of a case.

What are you doing?

"Ah, anyway." The bed shifts as Hood stands. You can just barely make out the shape of him. "You probably won't be going back to sleep any time soon, huh?"

You sigh. "No, probably not. Please feel free to take back your bed."

"Nice try. You, uh... like hot chocolate?"

"Oh. Yes, I do. But you don't have to do that."

"I've been awake," he says. "No trouble. C'mon."

Hood walks to the door and opens it. Light spills out and for a moment, you have a clear view of his back.

His hair is dark and wavy. His back is covered in silver scars and fresh bruises, broad and muscled. You can see the tendons shift as he walks out.

The Red Hood is a man. Made of flesh and blood. Carved, more like.

Your belly flutters. Fuck.

This is no longer just you working a case. And you're about as far from an informant as anyone can be.

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood fanfiction #red Hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #red Hood imagine #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #jason todd x yn #red Hood x yn #gender neutral reader #inbox #blurb

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kanekisfavoritegf · 1 year

Text

Shameless

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI you will be blocked!🩷

@indigoballad and I were being messy after i came up with idea…

warnings: smut, cheating, multiple positions, kinda manipulative, infidelity.

Toji was a sick man. Sick enough to shake hands with your husband Sukuna as he congratulated you on the pregnancy. Eyes never leaving yours as he talked to your life partner. He had no shame. Eye fucking you as he held a conversation with the alleged father of your child. But Toji knew the truth.

He had no shame the night he decided to breed you on the very bed you share with your husband.

He wasn’t home, though, it seemed he never was anymore, and after a whole three hours of arguing, Sukuna let out a mumble of divorce before leaving you alone in the apartment.

Truly that man has no shame. Not as he cooed in your ear, “Stop crying, baby. You are too pretty for this.” wiping the few tears that slowly ran down your face. You could feel the heat coming from his body, from how close he was.

“Toji, he’s leaving me. Sukuna is actually going to divorce me.” You sobbed.

“He is an idiot and an asshole.” Toji would smoothly say like he wasn't a long-time business partner with your husband. Moving a braid away from your face, feigning any true care for what Sukuna did.

“I just wanted a baby. A child of our own, like little your Megumi. He is adorable.” You let out a shaky breath. “I thought he was ready. But then he started coming home later and later. So when I pointed it out, he snapped at me.

“If you want a little Megumi, I can give you one.”

“Excuse me?” Who does he think he is?

“I mean, I can give you a baby.”

“Do you not have any shame?”

“No.” He smirked. “Think about it, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.” He only rolled his eyes.

“Just think about it. Sukana is leaving you anyway. And you want a baby.”

You weren’t an idiot, you knew he had a habit of lingering touches and wandering eyes. But you wanted to hear him say it out loud. To your face. “And what do you get out of it, huh?”

“You.” He said without hesitation

“Oh.”

“I want you. Let me give you a baby.” His face was now inches from yours. His breath fanned your face.

You’d be a fool to pretend you weren’t attracted to Toji in some kind of way. But this? It was different. He inched his hand up your lap and was now gripping your thigh awaiting your response.

It would be okay, right? If Sukuna is leaving you, then who cares? You can say you got a surrogate and divorce him.

And Toji wants you.

No. Toji needs you.

Needs to be in you.

So who were you to deny him, or yourself?

You don’t know how long it has been. Or what room Toji had dragged you into next. But you were bent over a desk. And Toji seemed to have made it his goal to fuck you in every room. All Eighteen…

Making you suck his dick in the cinema.

Fucking against the bookshelf of your personal library.

Bending you over your antique piano in the music room.

And now you lay over your husband’s desk in his home office as Toji plowed into you like a madman. It was like he had limitless stamina. In fact, it seemed like he was gaining more energy with each thrust. The way he was fucking you was inhumane.

He had one goal. And that goal was to breed you until he physically couldn’t keep moving.

And that he did.

By the time he was done with you. He had tears in his eyes, his pubes were drenched in both of your fluids, and he lay flat on his stomach, fingers scooping the cum that oozed from your beaten, raw cunt, right back in.

“I have to make sure it sticks. My love.”

Toji paid for someone to clean up the mess the two of you made, not wanting the regular maids to come and report back to Sukuna right away.

Toji reassured you everything would be fine if you got pregnant. He’d take care of you as soon as Sukuna left you.

But what Toji didn’t know was that Sukuna had no intention of leaving you. Ever.

Paranoia AKA Pt. 2

#cat writes ★#toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji headcanons #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #black reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader

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