#in the event they had a bad reaction and i needed to leave | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

house-of-daena · 10 months

Text

my precious experiment [afab.dottore x amab.reader]

contents: no pronouns specified, dom reader/sub dottore, nsfw, fem terms w/ genitalia, dubcon, monsterfucking, biting, blood, masochistic dottore, dacryphilia, monster anatomy, 2 c0cks, breeding kink, monster rut, belly bulge, size kink, viginity taking, oral (giving), typical dottore warnings, dottore tries to pretend he's in control, tell me if i miss anything.

꒰ hm, just some thoughts. sorry if it's kinda bad it's been a while since i've written smut, but i promise the next post will be relatively better. rqs r open btw꒱

usually, miscalculations don't happen in dottore's experiments. sure, his research hits the occasional dead end and failure is inevitable. after all, it is part of the journey to achieve his goals; without failure, how can he improve and ascend into a new realm of knowledge?

but this was unprecedented.

you were a successful result of a recent experiment the doctor had conducted. the tsaritsa wanted more power into the fatui, especially when the traveler was running rampant about. however, you were still a prototype, and due to this, you've become dottore's obedient little errand/guard dog that is at his beck and call instead.

you could talk but chose silence and actions to communicate. dottore discovered you were very easy to please; just mere praise and gentle pats on your head, and you're roaring to take on any task the doctor shall give.

but since you were so obedient, dottore never would have expected you to act out of line. he should've been more prepared for a multitude of scenarios that could put him in danger. you were a beast, at the end of the day.

a beast in heat.

looming over him, your hand pinning his wrists above his head, your body pressed against his. even though your brain was drowning in a haze of lust, you were mindful of his reactions and the profanities spilling out of his lips.

"what do you think you're doing?" he hisses through his sharp teeth, glaring at you through his mask. you only let out a deep rumble in your chest as a reply, your free hand trailing down his torso, your sharp claws tearing cuts into his clothes. "don't tell me you think i'd take care of your heat." he felt a sense of dread, an emotion unfamiliar, throughout his entire body when you let out a purr, confirming his assumption.

dottore can't fathom the idea. him, the 2nd of the 11 fatui harbingers, catering to your needs? ridiculous! it should be you who'd be pleasing him! he squirmed against your grip, kicking and thrashing against your hold. you loosened your grasp, sensing his distress, but no matter what dottore did, you were too big, too strong, for him to manage an escape.

this is the first time dottore has cursed himself for creating such a successful experiment.

as if you could read into his mind, you pull back from his neck, blinking your clouded eyes at him. you stared deeply into his soul that dottore could feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand. then, you spoke, gently and softly, in contrast to your beastly form, "do you have any precautions on an event like this?" you ask, your claws slowly digging into the tender flesh of his thigh, making him bite his bottom lip to suppress any embarrassing noise that threatens to leave his throat.

it was rare for you to speak. he'd only hear you let out small grunts when he injects you with a big needle or training with other fatui members. hearing you speak out a whole sentence sent an inexplicable shiver down his spine, and he felt his breath hitch.

when he didn't answer, too distracted by the tingling sensations on his body at the mere sound of your voice, you settled yourself between his legs and pressed yourself against his crotch. dottore's eyes widened, and he almost let out a gasp.

you were so warm against him, even when your clothes separated your skin from his. he could feel it straining and twitching against your pants and slowly rubbing yourself against him. fuck, it was dangerously big. he doesn't remember giving you something like that! somehow, the doctor struggled to think of anything else other than the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, gulping as he tried to regain his composure.

"have you made any suppressants for me?" you inquire once more, pressing a wet kiss against his cheek as you slowly lifted him up with just a hand, letting his wrists go to wrap his legs around your waist, to which he absentmindedly complied. "or did you plan to neglect me until my heat subsides?" your lips moved languidly against his marred skin, careful at his sensitive spots and started nipping at his neck, your sharp teeth forming aching bruises.

dottore grit his teeth as his hands shakily rested on your shoulders, weakly gripping them as he tried not to get too lost in the foreign feeling burning inside of him. he has never experienced such a thing. it was quite overwhelming, especially when you just grabbed him in the middle of his work and pinned him against the wall so suddenly. "you... were very well-behaved, i— ngh! i hadn't taken into account that your animalistic parts would go as f-far as giving you a heat cycle..."

he sounded like he was a bit quizzical at your predicament, probably planning to run down some tests on you later to further understand your form. it made your heart flutter when he spoke so analytically, especially towards you. you adored the doctor so much, and he sounded heavenly when he was holding back moans and catching his breath in between his words.

"then, since you are my creator, you should take responsibility for whatever happens to my body..." dottore finally couldn't hold back and let out a small shriek when you sank your teeth onto a sensitive area on his neck, hard enough to draw blood. you relished the iron taste against your tongue, so you bit him again and again, leaving red bruising marks all over his neck and down to his collarbone. all he could do was helplessly whine at your ministrations and claw at your broad shoulders, trembling against your body as he slowly descended into madness.

the tips of his ears reddened when you let out a chuckle, holding him so close in your arms. you had barely done anything, and he was already shaking. my doctor is beyond adorable, you thought to yourself.

you were just so taken by him, could he even blame you?

so utterly debauched by his everything. his body littered with beautiful scars and marks that reminded you of blank canvases gaining life and meaning with gorgeous colors and patterns, his red eyes that could easily pierce through your beastly facade, and his scent, alluring, addicting.

you could smell him everywhere you went inside the laboratory. it doesn't help that he has multiple segments that smell just like him. it drove you crazy, it was dizzying just to breathe whilst you stood on guard with the gnawing desire that was slowly consuming you. it only greatly intensified with your heart.

you didn't understand why your instincts wanted him. it was as if it was just in your system to want him, need him. your blood boils just by having him trapped in your arms, and your body reacts too aggressively when his skin touches yours. you just want him to keep him close to you, to bury your cocks inside his holes and fill him up to the point that you know he'll have your pups.

it was maddening.

but you're a patient little pet. you have enough self-control to hold yourself back so as to not upset your owner, creator. you respect your owner first and foremost. you purr and nuzzle against his neck, peppering wet, apologetic kisses on his skin, hoping it was enough to allow you to indulge your animalistic urges and ravish him until he could only think, feel and need your cocks.

"what's your verdict, doctor?" your voice seemed to snap him out of his trance, head tilting upwards to look at you. "will you help me?"

dottore, for the first time in years, felt his heart racing. he didn't even think it was even possible anymore. it felt so odd to have you towering over him; he wanted to yell at you, to punish you for your misbehavior and perhaps deem you as a failure of an experiment. but the longer this went on, the more his body began to react so unusually...

he could feel himself throb between his legs, and he struggled to breathe. any coherent thought he had was thrown out the window, and his mind was vacant. he knew his pussy was fucking soaked, clenching onto nothing as you rubbed your crotch against his. he didn't understand why he seemed to like being overpowered so easily.

the only distant memory he could recall when he felt the same way was when he was back at the akademiya, but that was only because of his hormones, and he has never really dealt with such time-consuming activities.

but now, he can't find himself to deny you. how could he? you were practically holding him down until he couldn't move. who knows what you'd do to him if he were to refuse?

with a last attempt to not appear as pathetic as he was at the moment, he let out a shaky scoff and straightened his back. "fine," he relents with a firm tone, dazedly glaring at you, "but only to... further investigate the state your... body is in..." it was a flimsy excuse to save his ego, but it was enough for you.

you gave him a peck on the lips, and your tail began to wag enthusiastically behind you. "thanks, doc. i'll be gentle with your first time."

oh, how you adore the look he gave you. it was simply too obvious based on his reactions. oh well, his ego will be ruined into nothing later on.

archons, why did he agree?

dottore felt like he was dying. this was a pleasure he never thought of experiencing in his whole life. your monstrously long and wide tongue slipping so easily inside his pussy and stretching his insides with little concern got him doubling back. he has your head locked between his thighs, but you didn't seem to care as you relentlessly lapped at the sweet ichor that dripped between his legs and wriggled your tongue as deep as you could inside his walls.

oh gods, it felt so good. he was practically riding your mouth as his hips stuttered against the movements of your tongue. he felt like he was going to explode in pleasure, his sensitive parts that have never been explored by another quivering at each touch. the pad of your thumb rubbed incessantly against his clit, and he can't help but throw his head back, letting out such obscene sounds you never thought you'd hear coming from his lips.

your claws, which you have dulled for his convenience, buried deep into his other hole, covered in his own spit. you thrust your claws in rhythm with your tongue's movement, and he was losing his mind. it felt too good— it was like he ascended into the heavens. his body burned hotter and hotter, and his walls convulsed at the slick feeling of your tongue.

his hands grabbed hold of your horns, tugging on it so harshly as if he was about to tear it from your forehead. you could only groan at the aching feeling, speeding up your movements and making him choke on his own moans.

"f-fuck! slow down i— ahn! i-i cAN'T! OH! hgnnn..." he slurs out, his body so overwhelmed at the mind-numbing pleasure, but his words contradicted his actions. his hips moved erratically to meet your thrusts from both your claws and your tongue, clenching on them as if he never wanted to let you go.

and when you finally deemed he was ready, holes stretched out enough to take your cocks, you gripped his hips to stop him from moving. slowly, you let your tongue slide out of his cunt and your fingers leave his ring of muscles. he whined at the sudden emptiness, glaring at you with his watery, ruby eyes and scowling. "i was so close! why the hell did you-"

you easily, but gently, moved him down to your lap, allowing him to straddle you as you sit up. your tail immediately coiled around his waist possessively as you purred at him. dottore gulped when he understood what you wanted, and watched as you removed your belt and unbuttoned your pants.

okay, dottore definitely does not remember giving you two cocks. did it just develop while you were in the incubation pod? having one massive cock is already too much for dottore to handle, but two?

your tail moved his body, hovering his holes over your cocks. he jolts from how warm your cock heads were when it pressed against his holes. he grabbed your shoulder and his eyes were blown wide with panic. "w-wait- that won't fit!"

you only cooed, your hands roaming his body so tenderly as if to ease his tensed muscles. you didn't speak, but your eyes told him everything, 'we'll make it fit.'

before he could argue with you, you've already aligned yourself and slowly pushed his hips down onto your thick cocks. your girth was too much, his insides burned at the stretch as your cocks dragged against his walls as he kept sucking you in. you were barely halfway in, and he already felt like he was going to pass out.

you were nothing short but sweet to him, wiping his tears (when did he start crying?) and cooing softly into his ear. you were taking it considerably slow just for him, despite your animalistic urges telling you to just slam him down and fuck him.

dottore took in a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around your neck. leaning back and gritting his teeth, he tried to keep his body lax as you eased him down on your lengths until you were fully sheathed inside him. he raked his hands through your hair, and you immediately leaned against his touch, following the warmth of his hand.

"good beast," he utters in your ears, and he hears you trilling happily at his praise. you grabbed his face with your hand and pulled him into a kiss, tilting his head to devour his mouth. he moaned at the taste of himself that lingered on your tongue, closing his eyes.

though his praise did the opposite of what he wanted when you slowly lifted him up from your cocks until it was only the tips were inside of him, too distracted by the dizzying kiss, before slamming him down onto your lap.

dottore pulled away to let out a scream, eyes rolling back as you bounced his body up and down at your cocks. it felt like you've punched all the air out his lungs, trying to split his body in half, every time his holes takes your dicks whole again.

fuck, he felt so good. his insides felt so warm and tingly, practically carving his walls into the shape of your cocks. each thrust, he lets out these cute "ah! ah! ah!", babbling about how you're too big and that he can't take it and that he's about to break. but you were too far gone, letting the beast inside of you take control as you fuck into dottore relentlessly, again and again, burying your dicks impossibly deep inside of him.

when he looked down, he sees a small bump that disappears and reappears whenever he bounces. he looks at it in awe, drooling all over your chest and marveling at how big you are. his holes clenched impossibly tighter around your cocks, and you growled at the feeling. his gummy walls felt like absolute heaven, and you picked up your pace.

dottore was doing everything he can to not pass out. his throat was beginning to hurt from how much he was screaming and moaning and chanting your name over and over. he was seeing stars and his nails rake down the bare skin of your back, leaving marks and making them bleed.

"f-fuckk! too b-big!" he moans, trying to catch his breath, "s' good! d-don't stop!"

and you took that order to heart. even when dottore has begged you to stop, that his mind was so numb he could barely form coherent sentences, that his holes were so raw and spent from how long you've been fucking him, that he has come so many times he can't even cum anymore, yet you still continue to fuck him.

"n-no more! fuck! i-i can't- i've already cum so much- please!" he begs, vision blurry from his tears. "ahn! h-hannh! fuck im cumming again! imcummingimcumming-"

he was barely awake at this point, laying flat on his stomach as he weakly grips on the sheets for his dear life. you were not satisfied just yet, even if you've filled him up to the brim. he could feel his stomach swell with your warmth, but you only kept going, groaning into his ear and purring happily from the pleasure.

you were going to get it after you're done. he was going to make you feel the pain that even a monster like you can't bear it. he swears on it pathetically, hiccuping between airy moans. he couldn't feel his lower half anymore, but he still tries to move against your thrusts.

it was so addicting. the pleasure, the high... he will do something about your behavior later... but for now, he'll allow you to continue filling him up with your cum. he was conducting a test on the limitations of your body, after all.

#» asmo's writings #» dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #sub dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #genshin smut

3K notes · View notes

violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

Text

Bolinus brandaris [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

and by public demand, part. 2

summary: Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice.

"Everyone ready to go back?" Gideon asked, taking a quick look at the jet to make sure all of you were there. You had an extortion case quite far from home, Miami to be exact, and you had a long flight back to Quantico, so the last thing he wanted was to forget someone.

Miami was a beautiful place that you would have liked to visit in other circumstances, that had nothing to do with crimes at all, since you had always felt a certain weakness for the warm climate, the sticky breeze, and the sound of the waves that were on the beach.

You had only had the chance to go to a mall to buy a new outfit, because yours had been completely ruined, while Morgan took advantage of the wait to buy an ice cream popsicle. It hadn't been a dream ride, but it was something at least.

“I feel like I could sleep for 90 hours straight,” you sighed, closing your eyes and falling into Spencer's side as usual. You two were the youngest, he was younger than you of course, so it was easier to connect with him than the other members of the team. You seemed to have similar interests and he was strangely comfortable with you.

“You would actually need to wake up periodically to expel fluids or you would risk bursting your bladder or even your bowels, because even though your digestive system shuts down when you sleep it only does so for a certain number of hours. Maybe you could sleep for 14 or 17 hours, which is what a baby sleeps, but 90 seems excessive to me even if you do not consume drinks or food before doing so”

"It's an expression, Reid" you laughed, but without the intention of making him feel bad for having answered you that way. Sometimes it was necessary to explain to him that you weren't being serious, as obvious as this seemed.

"You can sleep through the whole trip" he argued and although you still had your eyes closed you assumed that he had shrugged "I'll wake you up if you start snoring"

"I don't snore!" you defended yourself, playfully smacking him on the arm and hearing him laugh. Somehow watching him led you to remember a chain of events ending in the package you had carefully stowed in your bag and you almost jumped out of your seat the next second: "Wait, I just remembered something" you reported and went to the baggage area to rummage through your suitcase, taking just a few minutes to be back in your seat “I bought you this”

"Me?" he asked in disbelief. The others were on their own business enough to notice your conversation, making the moment a bit more private.

“I looked at it and just thought of you. Although I don't know if you're going to like it” you said shyly, handing him something wrapped in a paper bag with a store sticker on it. You had found the gift when you went shopping for your clean outfit and a part of you had been anxious all day to be able to give it to him to watch his reaction.

Reid looked at it curiously and handled it carefully, as if he were afraid it would fall apart in his fingers, until he managed to open it and took a piece of cloth from it.

"A scarf?"

“I saw you in one the other day and I thought you might like them. You know, you always wear your vests under your coats and your ties and you're always overdressed, but in a cute way” you laughed, while you pointed your hands at your body pretending to touch the pieces of his outfit "But it's okay if you don't want to wear it"

"No! I mean yes. I want to use it” he reassured you. Spencer held it out to look at it more carefully: it was purple, a stripe in the middle of patterned colored rhombuses intertwined with some embroidery of branches with leaves in black. "Did you know that the color purple is related to royalty because of how difficult it was to obtain the pigment before the Christian era? It is obvious that artificial dyes didn’t exist at that time, so everything they dyed the fabrics with had to be obtained from nature and that particular tone was quite difficult to obtain because it came from Bolinus brandaris, an extremely rare species of sea snail. To obtain 1 gram of this substance it is necessary to have 10,000 snails. And that gram was barely enough to dye a small piece. Its value and the difficulty in mass-producing it is due to the fact that the substance obtained had to be left to dry in the sun for a very precise time to be used later. Half a kilo of wool dyed in that color cost what would now be equivalent to around 300,000 euros,” he said, still holding the scarf as he rambled on. "It is also related to liturgical attire, it symbolizes power, wisdom, and is the perfect combination between the energy of red and the calm of blue”

“Oh yeah, I… I knew all that before I bought it, I didn't choose it just because I think purple brings out your eyes” you blatantly lied, making your friend laugh tenderly.

“What I meant to say is that I like it” he added, a little embarrassed by the smile and attention with which you had been observing him. You always did that when he wandered off, leaving him helpless and not knowing how to react.

"You said it has to do with wisdom, right?" you exclaimed and he nodded gently "Do you think there's some weird psychological reason why my brain knew that and linked it to you or was it just a coincidence?"

"Well, it's hard to explain..." he began to say, turning a little in his seat to be closer to you and begin a long explanation about the connections that our brain creates with things and people.

You were completely exhausted but you didn't have the heart to stop him from saying anything he had to say and you listened intently as much as your body would allow, until eventually you were lulled to sleep by the sound of Spencer's soft voice. When he stopped hearing your hums he realized that you had already fallen asleep and he moved your body carefully until you were completely reclining on the chair, so that when you woke up the physical pain of sleeping on the plane would be less. He, for his part, stayed in the seat next to you sheltered your rest, and at some point ended up asleep too.

The day after she came back from Miami, Spencer was already wearing the scarf you gave him. He had matched it with a brown coat, a vest in a darker shade of purple than the scarf, and a white shirt that together made him look perfect. Also, his well-brushed straight hair fell to the side and his tanned skin looked particularly clean.

You didn’t need to tell him anything because the smile you gave him when you looked him up and down was reason enough for him to be flattered and also proud to receive your approval. All day you watched him, a bit for the garment and a bit for the very pleasure of admiring him, and you noticed that he frequently checked that everything about him looked good, as if he was trying to impress you. Every time he spoke he avoided looking at you, only at you, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

The day after that he used it too and the next day and the next, to the point where it was strange to see him go anywhere without it, as if it had become a part of him. After a week, while they waited in the boardroom, Elle finally had the courage to face the situation and ask Spencer why the particular choice for something for everyday use.

"It's that his girlfriend gave it to him" answered Morgan, before the brunette could say anything.

"What? No! Y/N is not my girlfriend” he said, completely embarrassed and making sure with his eyes that you weren't around to hear that.

"Oh, now I understand" JJ joined the conversation.

"You understand what?"

“You are always taking care that it doesn’t get dirty or stained”

"Yes, I don't like my clothes to get ruined"

"But more so if it's something his girlfriend gave him" insisted Morgan and in a fit that no one expected Spencer took a ball of paper and threw it at his face. That just got a collective laugh.

"I just like it. That's all”

"We all know you like her, Reid," added Hotch, who had kept quiet thus far and didn't even look up from the files. He flushed red to the ears as the rest of the team shared another laugh, and just seconds later you and Gideon walked through the door.

"Good morning"

"Good morning" answered the others, like school children before the arrival of a teacher. There was one seat left next to Morgan that Gideon took and that forced you into the only remaining chair between Elle and Spencer.

“Did I miss something interesting?” you murmured, leaning into him and smiling close to his face.

"No" he replied kindly, feeling your gaze drop from his eyes.

"Your scarf," you said, reaching out your hands to move it a little around his neck "It was out of place"

Everyone else, except for Gideon, shared knowing glances and stifled giggles as they watched the nervous way he thanked you. It didn't help too much that for the entire meeting you were completely distracted looking at your partner next to you, making the whole team wonder when the two of you were finally going to end up kissing.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

4K notes · View notes

blue-jisungs · 2 months

Text

ONE SHOT

author's note. first of all thank u @kyrjnie for helping me out w the idea fot this one!!! its kinda ironic how it was one of the fics i had a plan for but it ended up being the last one lmaooo and also @eternalgyuuu w the banner<3 BUT my dudes its the last fic of the 2 year event!! thank u for sticking around - both around me and the event hehe - i'm very grateful <3 i hope you more or less enjoyed it!!!

summary. when a stranger keeps you company

warnings. its said that there was a creepy man following yn:(

word count. 1339

seungcheol has a good heart.

no matter how scary may he look or how tough may he act, deep down he always has and will have a pure heart.

he never considered it a flaw. not even now, that he is way too far from the stop where he was supposed to get off. in the middle of the week, at almost 1am.

but he can’t leave you alone, can he?

it’s not like he knows you… but on his way home at this late hour, he listened to music and just drifted away. the subway was gradually emptying, not many people going as far as him.

but there was this one girl, who must have entered before him – you were already here, dozed off, when he took the subway.

he glanced at you, subconsciously smiling at how cute you are. that was another thing about seungcheol – he was so pure. upon seeing an adorable thing, person or anything else, he’d always smile and adore it.

and today it just happened to be you. he liked to think about others – one would call it being nosy but he genuinely cared about people, even strangers.

so when he was about to approach his stop and leave, he furrowed his brows. there was this one man at the end of the subway car, eyeing you from time to time.

and seungcheol despite glaring at him and having an overall intimidating aura (especially with the freshly dyed red hair) didn’t manage to scare him off. he just had a bad feeling and decided to wait for you to wake up.

the creep must have been either stupid or stupidly stubborn since he just shrugged and relaxed in his seat.

which is why now seungcheol is 13 stops away from his house and at the end of the line.

the subway halted, announcing it’s the last stop.

he sighed and stood up, observing with a corner of his eye how the stranger left the car.

seungcheol stretched and sat next to you, hearing a muffled sound of a studio ghibli soundtrack playing in your earphones. he tapped your shoulder gently, observing your reaction.

you seemed to gradually wake up – scrunching your nose, stretching, opening an eye open, fighting a yawn and then finally, a sleepy gaze meeting his.

your eyes widened upon seeing an unfamiliar man this close to you and he immediately moved a bit further.

“sorry to wake you up, it’s just… it’s the last stop” he smiled and you noticed his cute dimples. nodding, you grabbed your purse and blinked slowly.

“um, thank you. i get off here either way but i really appreciate it” you sent him a warm smile and you two left the subway.

the weather was a bit stuffy but it was nice to catch some fresh air. you saw the stranger looking at something behind your back.

“do you get off here too?” you asked hesitantly.

you take this route everyday at this hour, after work. you should’ve recognized his face if he was a regular too – especially with his handsome face and bright red hair. he shook his head softly.

“i don’t” he smiled tenderly and his cute, brown eyes moved to need yours “i… there was a weird guy, he’s over there. i couldn’t bring myself to leave you alone. sorry if that made you uncomfortable”

you felt your stomach twist at the thought of some weirdo following you but then… the man in front of you willingly missed his stop to prevent anything from happening.

“what’s, uhm, your name? if i can…” you didn’t finish, shyness taking over you. but the redhead grinned, the cute dimples poking out again.

“seungcheol. and yours?” he asked, hiding his hands in the pocket of his jean jacket.

“y/n” you introduced yourself, unable to stop your own lips from forming into a smile – the gesture was too infectious not to do so. “seungcheol, thank you so much. you’re a real gentleman, i thought… there’s no good left in the world. but you proved me wrong

he scoffed, shaking his head.

“no problem” he grinned and hesitated for a moment, biting down on his plump bottom lip. then he whipped out his phone in a cherry case and checked the time “i still have like… half an hour before the next ride. and i would sleep way more peacefully if i knew you arrived home safe. can i walk you back?”

normally, you’d decline. but upon slightly turning around you noticed a weird man glancing at you two. besides, you had a good feeling about seungcheol. maybe you shouldn’t… but there was just something so warm and genuine about him that you agreed.

with a small nod, you grabbed his arm. turning around, you passed the man.

“i know we’re strangers but sleeping on the subway doesn’t seem like a safe idea” seungcheol said softly.

the night was peaceful, stars shining beautifully on the navy sky. a soft gust of wind blew in your face, running through your hair.

“i don’t usually do this, don’t worry” you scoffed and fixed the bag on your arm. “today was just exhausting and i made the mistake of putting some calm songs”

he smiled and took a glance over his shoulder. the man was nowhere to be seen. good.

you had a small talk with him since your walk home usually takes up to 10 minutes. upon arriving at the entrance to the staircase, you slowly let go of his arm. stepping at the stair so you’d be on his eye level, he grinned cutely at the gesture.

“i really appreciate your gesture, seungcheol. i know i said it like, five times already but… you know” you said shyly, fidgeting with a strap of your bag.

“and as i said: no problem. seriously, y/n” the man nodded and your eyes suddenly widened.

“wait here a second!” you gasped and entered the code. seungcheol only saw a glimpse of you disappearing in the hallway.

seungcheol let out a scoff and hid his hands in the pockets of his jacket, suddenly taking a deep breath.

you’re so adorable.

just when he was about to check the time, the door swung open and you appeared in them again. there was a silver package in your hand, your chest moving up and down irregularly.

“the… stairs…” you breathed out and he laughed, noticing your messy hair. “i almost… tripped…”

shaking your head, you put the item in his calloused hand.

“i made you a quick sandwich. i figured you’re hungry and to even slightly return the favour, you know?” you smiled and tucked your hands in the pocket of your jeans. he smiled sweetly, his heart melting on the spot “it’s, um, lettuce, ham and cheese. nothing crazy, sorry”

“thank you so much. i bet it’ll be delicious” he hummed and silence fell between you two.

seungcheol bit his bottom lip.

he had only one shot. he had to be casual.

“um, i was wondering–”

“hey, if you ever–”

you exchanged surprised looks when your voices merged upon speaking up at the same time. you both laughed, cute wrinkles forming around his eyes.

“you go first” you insisted.

“if you ever need like… a scary dog privilege or some help, i can give you my number” he said with a boyish smile. the words were said and now…

“even help with ordering a coffee?” you asked. seungcheol caught the hidden meaning and just nodded.

“of course” he said and you exchanged numbers, moonlight shining on his handsome face.

“and um, text me when you get home. i wanna know if my guard arrived safely too” you hummed, wrapping your arms around your torso. seungcheol saluted and slowly began to walk away back to the station.

you stood there until he disappeared from your sight and he turned around like, 3 times.

with heart thumping in your chest and a foolish smile on his face, cheol was glad he took that one shot.

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

430 notes · View notes

missnxthingg · 2 months

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Actress!Reader (Enemies to Lovers & Fake Dating AU) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando Norris really messed up on the first time meeting one of Hollywood's newest and hottest stars, Y/N L/N. But when his reputation gets too bad, she might be the only one who can save his career from being completely doomed. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 4.5K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - SMUT & swearing 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - Four is our lucky number, so let's spice things up! As I wrote this, I could only think about the song Conflicted by Halestorm (pardon the hard rock). Hope you enjoy this one!

series masterlist | main masterlist | main blog | taglist

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 - 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃

Lando woke up a little lost the following morning. His cheek was pressed to the top of Y/N's head and his arms were loosely still around her waist. She was still deep into sleep when he opened his eyes. Too afraid to wake her up and having to face an awkward conversation, he stood very still, taking the first minutes of his day to look at her and think.

Whatever happened between them yesterday was weird, to say the least. People don't simply go from hating each other to being vulnerable and sharing a bed in a matter of hours. He didn't know what had got into them and it scared him how much he enjoyed the moments they shared the previous night. It scared him how good it felt to be vulnerable to her. And the feeling he got on his chest every time he looked at her was the most terrifying of them all.

Feeling a clench on his chest, Lando carefully slipped out of bed and changed into fresh clothes, did his entire morning routine and, in less than 15 minutes later, he was downstairs in the restaurant for some breakfast. Since it was so early, and everyone was still tired from the weekend, he managed to sit alone and think. The last thing he needed was company.

Eventually, the hotel started to get crowded, and a few fans were starting to recognize him among the people at the restaurant. Feeling cranky, he thought it was best for him to go back to his room and get ready for his flight later that day. Zak had already texted him, saying he hoped to have a meeting on the flight. So he needed to rest his mind.

Lando hadn't decided how to behave around Y/N yet. She was woken up by the time he arrived, but was having a shower while he was gone. He packed everything he needed while she kept the bathroom busy. She only came out ten minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes for the flight.

“Good morning”, she opened a small smile for Lando, who didn't retribute it.

“Morning”, he mumbled, taking his needed things for a shower.

Y/N was surprised with his behaviour, but decided not to comment on it. Who the fuck goes from cuddling to no reaction in only a few hours? Only someone as complicated as Lando Norris.

“At what time we'll be leaving?”, she ignored how he acted and decided to act just as cold.

“We have to be at the airport at one”, he said and Y/N only nodded to his response.

But she just couldn't help herself. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Fine”, he shrugged before locking himself in the bathroom.

The rest of the trip was exactly like that. Y/N only heard Lando's voice when necessary. He only shifted his mood during the meeting he had with Zak on the plane. Not very interested in talking about racing, she chose to put on her earpods and drift away into music.

They only met again a week later, when Y/N was invited to attend the Cannes Film Festival. To not make it seem like their relationship was one-sided, they took advantage that his off weekend was supposed to be during the event. Lando met her in France, where they had booked a suite with two rooms this time, so they would only have to meet in common areas such as the living and dining room.

What surprised Y/N was that Lando was back to his asshole behaviour once again.

“You never, ever shut up, do you?”, he sighed, taking a spot on the living room's couch.

"I'm just saying that we're late for a brunch and you're fucking sitting down, Norris", she folded her arms and puffed her chest, making sure he knew how upset she was.

"I'm not required to be at this brunch. Just need to be with you at the red carpet", Lando put his feet up on the coffee table and turned the TV on, pretending not to care. Y/N promptly removed his feet from the table.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I literally always go out of my schedule, fly out away from home, just to be at your goddamn work events, and you can't do the same for me?”

"We're not a real couple, Y/N. I don't know if you realized that", Lando squinted his eyes as he spat out the words. Words to which were daggers right across her chest.

She didn't know why it pained her so much to hear those words; to see how aggressive he was behaving. That was not the same Lando that a week ago begged for her to comfort him and pulled her closer before falling asleep. He wasn't the bubbly and happy Lando Norris she saw on track.

Trying to fight back some tears, Y/N turned her back and retreated to her room. “You do you, Norris. I'm gonna finish getting ready because, contrary to you, I care about my career”.

She had to fight really hard to not call his PR team and call this whole thing off. Lando wasn't committing to his part of the agreement, so she didn't feel like it was fair. But she washed her face, took a deep breath and got ready for brunch. By the time she was out the room, Lando was waiting dressed in a linen button up and short's, perfect for a casual spring day.

Y/N didn't say anything and carried on her way out, him right behind her. When they got to the hotel lobby, they put on their little show, with his hand on the small of her back and opening doors for her. Later that day on the internet, people were melting with the pictures of them in line for brunch, with the sweet kisses being shared between them.

But the real commotion came on the next day, when they attended a Martin Scorsese film premiere, looking like the hottest couple in Cannes. Lando dressed up in a beautiful and classic black suit, while Y/N chose a draped baby pink dress that made her feel like a goddess. When she came out of her room after hours with stylists, makeup artists and hairdressers, Lando felt the air being knocked out of his lungs and he did his best at pretending not to care.

Their fans, on the other hand, cared too much. Their names climbed up to worldwide trending topics; their picture on the red was all over Instagram. People loved how amazing they looked together. Lando and VN really could be a breathtaking couple if they were actually together. It was the perfect combo: the rising star and the sunshine athletic boy.

“A match made in hell”, he whispered in her ear as all the cameras blinded them with the flashes.

"I fucking hate you", she whispered back, and Lando felt like those words were a stab right in his chest.

Of course he knew Y/N hated him. He himself has made sure those feelings were known. But this is the first time he's heard it since the night they shared in Miami. Why does he now care that she hates him?

The words flowed so easily out of her mouth. She was angry at him. Absolutely livid by his behaviour on the previous day, or the fact that he simply pretended the last grand prix didn't happen. So if Lando was going to be petty, two can play this game.

The entire night was filled with snarky comments. Lando made sure to show how he wasn't enjoying the premiere, and Y/N had a comment for every comma that came out of his mouth. She could say anything to try pissing him off. What was making Lando angry, on the other hand, was seeing other men looking her up and down, just like a piece of meat. Didn't they have anything else better to do?

After Y/N spent good ten minutes talking to a very hot model, who was flirting with her the whole time, Lando gave up on waiting for him to leave and approached them, letting his hand go around her waist, securing her close to his body.

“Jesus, don't they realize you're taken?”, Lando mumbled, as he frowned at the model, now long gone.

"I thought we weren't a real couple. So there's nothing wrong with other men flirting with me", she provoked, feeling his fingers tighten around her waist.

“There is when, publicly, you're still mine. Or don’t you remember my one and only rule?”, you could see the red creeping up his neck. Was he actually jealous? It can't be.

“You really are a book I can't read”, she sighed, making an exit towards the theatre where the movie would be exhibited.

Thank God for long movies, because they wouldn't have to listen to each other's voices for three hours. But after a standing ovation once the credit's started rolling up, Y/N proceeded to try talking to as many people as she could at the cocktail party after the session. At the end of the day, she had talked to really important directors and producers, who in the future might think of her while doing a new project.

Lando, on the other hand, stood by her side and looked bored. He hated the film, thinking it was too conceptual for his liking, not to mention too long for a fucking boring plot. Y/N was getting angry at his behaviour and was making their deal go through the sky.

“I swear to God, if you keeping doing this, I'll call our team and end this whole fucking thing”, she complained, making him roll his eyes.

“Fuck off, you're still full on flirting with other men in front of me. I'm not the only one fucking this agreement”, by that time, they were alone in a secluded area of the party.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Norris, I'm working, not flirting, for fuck’s sake. This is the same thing as talking to sponsors. I'm not fucking flirting with any of them”, she was visibly angry at his behaviour.

“Well, it doesn't look like it”.

The fight was taken back to their hotel room and they did their best to make their discussion go unnoticed by other people. But once the doors were closed, they fought like they were married with children.

“This is disrespectful”, Lando shot when they brought up the men she talked to through the night.

“It's work, Norris. I don't know why you're so fucking jealous”.

“Because, we're in a goddamn relationship, Y/N. You can't go out all flirting with other men”.

“You said yourself we weren't in a real relationship. So why are you so jealous?”

“I'm not”, he reaffirmed, making her chuckle.

“Prove it”, she crossed her arms and daringly arched her brows.

She made every molecule of his body agitated. Once, Lando thought it was anger, for all the times they fought without having a reason and all the days she behaved like a brat, making his blood boil under his skin. Now, after the crash and the moment they shared in that tiny driver’s room, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

He was furious; absolutely livid, without knowing exactly what he wanted. Normally, Lando is a very decisive man. But when it came to Y/N, things were just a mess in his head. And right now, looking at her with her arched brows and folded arms, almost daring him to explode at her, he knew that there was only one thing he could do to end up with the fire that was consuming him.

The next second, Lando had his lips on Y/N, furiously attacking them in the neediest kiss of all time. She was taken by surprise and actually had to wait a few seconds to reciprocate anything. She had that look on her face, provoking him into the edge, waiting for a shout that would give her a single reason to hate him. Now he’s got her on the hook and there was no way to run. Actually, Y/N didn’t actually want to run anyway.

Lando had pressed her against the wall, a leg right between her thighs, keeping them apart and their bodies close. He had a hand around her neck, and another one on her hips, securing her against the wall. The pressure he put on her throat felt delicious. No one had ever held her like that before. Her panty was soaking wet not even two seconds later.

It only felt better when he moved his kisses down, trailing them to her neck. His lips sucked on her sweet spot, right under her ear, making her moan with the hot sensation over her skin. Also, if she wasn’t turned on at that point, feeling Lando’s hard on her thigh absolutely did the job. And if he was playing a game, she knew how to dance around it as well. Quickly, one of her hands was palming him over his trousers. He moved back to her mouth, kissing her as if his life depended on it, and biting her bottom lip when the pleasure got too much for him.

“Stop it”, he moaned against her lips, making her smile. “You can only touch me when I say you can touch me”.

“Bullshit”, she dared. “Look at you, Lando. You can’t get enough of my touches. I know you want them all”.

“Fucking…”, Lando removed his knee from between her legs and helped her kneel on the ground right in front of him. He leaned forward and softly landed his hand on her chin, making Y/N look up. She tried to put her best innocent look and he was absolutely done for her. “Open your mouth, baby”.

Y/N opened her mouth for just a little bit, and Lando slipped his thumb in so she could suck on it. Then after a while, he replaced it with his middle and index finger, going in deeper and making her almost gag on his hands. Tired of playing games, he kneeled as well, levelling their eyes, before letting his hand travel to the zip on her back.

“Come on, pretty girl. I want to see you”, he left a few soft kisses on her cheek and daringly opened the zip. “Can I take this off?”, she nodded, but Lando wasn’t satisfied. “I need to hear you say the words”.

“Yes, please”, she pleaded and soon her dress was on the floor, exposing her bare tits from the lack of bra and lacy black thong. Lando didn’t waste a second before dipping his head into her nipples, sucking, biting and playing with both of them. Y/N was a moaning mess in second, pulling his head closer to her body as she felt fantastic with just his lips on her nipples. “Lan, oh my God. Please, I wanna feel you”.

“You misbehaved”, he smirked, getting away from her tits to undo his belt. “I told you not to touch me and just wait. Now, if you wanna touch me, you better open up”.

He quickly lowered his trousers along with his underwear and his hard cock came hard, slapping on his stomach. Lando was sure he could die happily at the sight of Y/N’s eyes brightening and her mouth automatically opening wider for him. “Good girl”, he praised, taking her face by the chin and bringing his cock to her lips.

Y/N’s mouth felt so warm and amazing; Lando was losing it. He started trusting his hips into her face, making his dick go deeper in her throat and her gagging sending delicious vibrations up his body. He was surprised when one of her hands grabbed his balls and massaged them, sending him over the edge just quick enough. He had to pull away before coming on her throat. Y/N pouted in the absence of his cock, still being attached to it by a string of spit and pre-cum. Lando used one of his hands to wipe it off before kissing her again.

“Baby girl, I need to last longer, and you’re not helping at all”, he whispered on her lips once again, making Y/N giggle. What she wasn’t expecting, though, was a hand sneaking into her pussy, his middle finger gathering the juices pooling on her panty. She let an audible moan out, making him know how much she was enjoying that. “Do you want my fingers?”

“Yes”, she breathed out and Lando picked her from the floor, quickly taking her to bed, where they could get more comfortable. He slowly removed her underwear and tossed it around the room, the place getting filled with her glorious smell.

“Spread your legs wider, love”, Lando commanded and she immediately responded. “Good, just like that”. Y/N was going feral with the praise, and he got it right away. “You have a praise kink, pretty girl? Oh, that’s so sweet”.

Now that he knew that, Lando was going to put that information to use. He went back to her mouth though, this time slowing down the pace of her kiss, but the intensity was just like before. As much as he wanted to jump right in and just fuck the shit out of her, he would do anything to make this last for as long as he could. “If I am to have her for only one night, I want it to be unforgettable”, he thought.

Y/N was drunk on his kisses; feeling her soaking wet core brushing on his bare thigh and his tongue furiously sliding against hers. She just wanted to feel him, so she guided his hand to her pussy and pleaded with her eyes. Being a good boy, Lando slipped a finger inside her and pumped it inside slowly, making her lose it, throwing her head back in pleasure.

“Yes, right there. Oh my… Lando”, her hands flew to his back, fingers digging on his skin. Y/N started to roll her hips against his hand and he smiled at her attempt to feel even better. “I need more, please. One more”.

“One more finger, baby?”, Lando immediately obeyed, loving the sweet moan that came out of her mouth right after. “Come on, tell me what you want”.

“Kiss me, Lan”, she pulled his head closer to hers and her lips met his midway. Lando could’ve died happily just like that. He was getting addicted to her kisses, specially now that they were wanted and asked for. They weren’t a stunt act. They were behind closed doors. She was doing it willingly.

“Does that feel good?”, he asked between kisses and she nodded, feeling a knot tightening around her stomach.

“I’m gonna cum”, she grunted, making him start circling her clit with his thumb. “Shit, shit. I’m cumming”.

Her pussy clenched around his finger and now he was covered with her juices. Knowing it would make her go crazy, Lando brought his fingers up to his lips and licked them, moaning at the taste of her sweetness. “God, makes me want to get it straight from the source. You taste so good, baby girl”.

Y/N sat on bed and jumped right into his neck, wrapping her arms around his head to kiss him intensely. Lando was surprised by that, but he couldn’t get enough of her kisses. He has been learning to love them for a long time now, but it was so different; so magical.

“You want to eat me out, uhm?”, she asked him, making Lando arch his eyebrow and smile. “I asked you a question”.

“Well, I would not be opposed to it”.

“That’s not an answer, Lando”, she stopped kissing him, throwing her back against the mattress and getting comfortable between the pillows. She was not going to make him say it. He was the dominant; he wasn’t the one to say those kinds of things. But when Y/N spread her legs and started to play with herself, he just couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Fuck yes, I do. I want to eat you out, pretty girl”, he fell down, head right between her thighs, and started to trail kisses up her legs, until his lips were wrapped around her clit. If Y/N was trying to contain herself, she just couldn’t do it with how good it felt to him eating her pussy so deliciously.

But with their history, she just couldn’t help but provoke him. “You can do better than this”, Y/N dared, as if she wasn’t a moaning mess a few seconds before. And Lando wasn’t one to turn down challenges.

He pulled both of her legs over his shoulder, securing his head on her pussy and making her more comfortable. This time, he started sucking on her clit while working two fingers inside of her. He was too busy to say anything, but Y/N had a whole fucking lot to say about his work.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good. Shit, you just know how to find the right spot. Gonna make me cum again, uhm?”, she was almost screaming in pleasure. When Lando started brushing the right spot inside of her, she felt like she was going to explode. It was different than any other orgasm she ever had in her life. She cummed so hard on his mouth, screaming his name in response.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”, Lando had a beautiful smile on his face, that was covered in her juices. “Shit, that was so perfect”.

“You did so good”, she let a hand up to his face, rubbing circles on his cheek with an adorable smile on her face. But then, her hand fell to his cock, pulling him closer to her as she jerked him. “But now it’s time for both of us to feel good”.

Lando kissed her once again, just because the kisses were an addiction by now. Her hands pumping him only made it all feel so much better. Just the thought of having her around his cock made it twitch.

“Eager much?” She smirked on his lips, but Lando didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled her legs to wrap around his torso and guided his cock to her entrance, head brushing her pussy and collecting all the wetness. Y/N moaned and whined just with the contact.

“Eager much?” He joked back before putting just the tip inside. She felt so tight around him, Lando had to take a second to put it all in, needing to push one of her legs over his shoulder, just to give him more access. “Holy fuck, you feel so good around me. Baby, so tight for me. Fuck yes”.

He had closed his eyes, but she gripped on his throat, making him look down again. “Let me see your eyes, Lan”, she asked. His ocean green blue-ish orbs met hers and he quickly wrapped one of his hands on her throat as well.

“Say my name again”, it was his turn to ask, and she moaned with the request. “Say it”.

“Lando”, she whispered, his cock now moving delicately inside of her.

“Louder”, he demanded, picking up the pace.

“Lando!”, she screamed, making him slammer down his cock inside her. “I want you to ruin me”.

“Your wish is my command”. Now it was a matter of honour, and Lando was going to give what she asked. So he found the best pace, keeping the movements firm, yet slow enough to not be too much.

“You’re so big, love”, she praised, brushing her hands on his cheek, making him look her in the eyes. Lando looked so pretty while trying to contain his moans to speak. “I can’t get enough of you. I’m so full”

“You take me so well, my love. Fuck me”, his movements were getting sloppier, and she could feel his cock already twitching inside of her. Y/N also noticed that he was holding back his force, trying not to overstep.

“Don’t hold back, baby. You can use me”, she encouraged, and that was all Lando needed to hear before quickening the pace. And then, it was getting too hard for him to hold back. He wanted to last longer, but it all felt so good. Lucky enough, Y/N started to clench around him. “I’m gonna cum, Lan. Please!”

“Let’s cum together, pretty girl. Come on, we can do this”.

He glued his eyes with her, the hand on her throat not letting them break eye contact as the waves of pleasure crashed over their bodies. Y/N came first, but less than 5 seconds later, he pulled out to come on her stomach. She pumped him outside, getting him dry, while he retributed the favour with his fingers until they were both done.

Y/N had to wait a second to come back to her senses, but Lando promptly took a cloth from the bathroom and cleaned the mess he made over her. Then, too tired to function, he dropped his body over her and pressed a few kisses all over her face. It was like now that he had finally had her, he just wanted to curl up with her and forget about the whole world. And she was willing to let him do just that, because that was exactly what she wanted as well.

He fell asleep just a few seconds into their comfortable silence. Y/N continued to roll her fingers through his curls, lulling him into deep slumber, as she thought about what had just happened. It was still unbelievable in her head, but she kept replaying every moment, already missing his touch. And if her feelings for Lando were already confusing because of that night after his crash, this only made things worse. But having him sleeping on her arms, his digits digging on her skin as he clings tight onto her, made her forget about all her worries.

He woke up for just a few seconds and caught her staring at him. Instead of pretending she wasn’t looking, Y/N cracked him a smile. Lando opened an even wider smile before pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Let’s go to sleep, angel. Come on”, he got off her to turn off the lamp on the night stand, turning the room dark.

He found a spot for his head on a pillow and missed the warmth of Y/N. So he pulled her closer until she was lying on top of him. The skin to skin contact felt so intimate and comfortable for them. No fabric or cloth between them, just their bodies holding in together. And with his soft hands on her hair, Y/N fell asleep listening to Lando’s heartbeat, who had his own funny pace: quick in adoration for her, and then slow, after she calmed him down.

She would be the death of him someday.

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

⤳ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - @celestialams @lizaschronicles @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstufff @bishhhitsaurionn @mrsmaybank13 @bborra @sltwins@riccdannyf1 @kapsylia @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @lan4cha16 @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @hellyesjaehyun @tastebaldwin @sweate-r-weathe-r @carmenita122 @m0cha-bunny @lqvesoph @itscrzy @fangirlvibez @poppyflower-22 @livelovesports @logischeroktopus @happy-jj @saturnbloom77 @cmleitora @formulaal @secretgal66 @taisferrari-blog @ellen3101 @sunsshinesunny @eclipsedcherry @tems13 @readingbringsjoy @naanibubbletimmispeach @kenzeyeballs @alilcloudy @architect-2015 @tillyt04 @eringaitskill @honeyhatty12 @dreamercrowd @demig0d0fapollo @mxmtewnz @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @beyond-the-ashes @ijustgomessitupx @floraav @laiba26mindflay3r @books0fever @marialovesf1 @sltwins @ourteenagetragedy @katieschry1 @loveofmylife12 @diaa-20 @urfavsgf @chilisandmilk @elleeeee21 @likedbygaslyy

crossed means i can't tag you! dm me and maybe we can get it fixed

375 notes · View notes

riverlikethelake · 1 year

Text

A Long Way Home

Aonung x Omatikayan!Fem!Reader

Summary – Leaving your life behind to move to the reefs wasn't your plan, all you really want is a peaceful life with your family, but one of the Metkayina boys keeps staring at you...

Contains: Mentions of death, slow burn (?), Spider is mentioned in a good light (please bear with me), complex parental relationships, heavy development on platonic/family relationships

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

Word count: 4k

“This is our home! This is my home!” Neytiri cried, you pulled away from the tent, pursing your lips. You sat back and watched as Tuk peeked under the tent, Neteyam and Lo’ak leaning in further. Kiri looked back at you but didn’t move from her place listening to the conversation.

You could hear Jake arguing back but you couldn’t make out the words, not that you needed to. As much as it pained you to admit it, Jake was right, the forest wasn’t safe for the Sully’s anymore, they already took your brother, and he knows everything about life here.

The weight on your chest only became heavier. Before anyone could notice, you stood up and quickly made your way to the edge of the cavern your clan had taken refuge in.

Spider wasn’t your biological brother, hell he wasn’t even the same species anymore but for a long time it felt like he was the only one you truly had.

You were almost a year younger than him and born after the humans left earth, your mother was allowed to stay behind on Pandora. Unfortunately, that meant medical supplies were stretched thin and your mother died soon after you were born. Ironically the Omatikaya were celebrating Neteyam’s birth only a few minutes earlier.

It wasn’t till you got older that Norm and Max noticed how sickly you were, scratches and bruises weren’t a problem on Spider, but for you they stayed and got infected easily. Staying outside after dark when it got cold was too risky, Neteyam and Lo’ak often had to piggyback you to Hell’s Gate because you lost track of time or ran out of stamina.

Everything changed when you turned 6, after a strenuous forest exploration and a bad injury you ended up bed ridden for days on the verge of death. Having been worrying about an event like this happening for almost all your life, Norm and Max had quietly prepared an Avatar body for you years ago in hopes the Omatikaya would accept another consciousness transfer.

Spider didn’t leave your side for weeks after that, he fussed over everything you did and insisted Neteyam or Kiri were around when traveling through the woods. You could tell that you now being Na’vi bothered him, you no longer had common ground, you were once alone together but you could tell he now just felt alone.

Neteyam also became overly protective after that, he seemed to be able to read your mind and emotions. Jake and Neytiri kept a close eye on you, now being Na’vi Neytiri accepted you into their family.

But now Spider was gone, he was taken by the humans and Jake wants to leave.

You called for your Ikran, Tsyía, it was getting late but you needed to clear your head. You weaved between the trees, slowing down once you made it past the thick of forest, you sat up and breathed in the air.

If Jake and Neytiri decided to leave this would be the last time you’d see the forest, explore the trees, race Neteyam and Lo’ak through Hallelujah mountains, take Tuk far above the tops of trees and to the stone pillars. Your entire life was this forest.

The wind blowing your hair always calmed you down, the way the sun shone on the rocks was your favorite site. You kept your hold on the saddle, but you let yourself sit back and enjoy the air, your other arm coming up and back with the wind. You closed your eyes. This was peace.

Your Ikran cried, alerting you that you were approaching the human camps, quickly you started ascending higher and higher before dropping. A trick you never did around Neteyam or Lo’ak knowing how their individual reactions would cause Jake and Neytiri to get word of it.

Freefalling for a few seconds, further and further before you grabbed on tight to the satchel and Tsyía leveled out just above the trees. You flew around for a while, memorizing your home before heading back.

You didn’t make much of a commotion when you came back but Tuk immediately an over and held onto your leg.

“Y/n you’re coming with us, right?!” She begged, you were taken a back and looked up to Neteyam and Kiri who were walking up to you.

“Mom and dad were discussing what they’d do if you wanted to stay behind” Neteyam explained, he looked nervous himself.

You smiled and bent down closer to Tuk, “Of course I'm coming with you” you glanced back up to Kiri and Neteyam. After you were able to soothe Tuk you noted how late it was and insisted she go to bed, Kiri followed her after simply placing a hand on your shoulder and telling you she was glad. It wasn’t much but you knew it meant a lot coming from Kiri.

You and Neteyam shared a look before you moved to sit next to the cave opening, Neteyam sitting next to you, your head falling on his shoulder.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked after a moment of silence. You frowned. “My mind was never made up, I just made my decision”

“I wonder what the ocean looks like” you thought out loud, fatigue growing. Neteyam chuckled “Was that your deciding factor?”

You frowned again, bickering with him about your poorly timed statements. Neteyam seemed satisfied with this even if it didn’t answer his question, talking about what it would be like to live on the reefs.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up cuddled with everyone else back in the tent.

By the time the reefs came into view you were exhausted, and so was Tsyía, you all came to a landing on the shore edge. It was unnerving with the crowd that surrounded you all, Tuk hid behind Neytiri’s leg, but you picked her up and cradled her in your arms when she looked back at you nervously.

Kiri and Lo’ak both moved so you’d all be closer together when who you assumed to be the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk parted through the crowd. Your father explained how he sought safe refuge for his family, but you watched as Lo’ak struggled to tear his eyes away from a girl who rose from the water.

Your attention was drawn back to the situation when a couple of boys circled you and your siblings, grabbing at your brothers’ tail.

“Is this supposed to be a tail?”

“How will they swim?”

You held Tuk closer and watched as Lo’ak barely held himself together. You looked over your shoulder and glared at one of the boys who was seemingly going to poke at you too, you held his gaze for a moment, he lost his smirk, and simply stared at you. He looked you up and down and you could feel the urge to curl in on yourself, whether that be from the intensity of his gaze or not knowing what he was thinking.

Before he could say anything, the girl from before scolded the two boys before taking her place next to the Olo'eyktan. She must be his daughter. The two boys backed down as your father continued speaking, the boy you stared at taking his place on the other side of the Olo'eyktan. Oh great.

You tried to not be bothered when they pointed out the odd number of fingers you and your sibling possessed. You mostly focused on soothing Tuk until the Olo'eyktan, whom you learned was named Tonowari, announced that your family was welcome and his children, Ao’nung and Tsireya would teach you all how to adapt to the Metkayina way. The boy protested but shut up when his father shut him down, he locked eyes with you, an indescribable look on his face.

Ao’nung huh?

Tsireya showed you all the way to your Marui pod, Tuk practically jumped out of your arms to jump across the pathway.

You observed your surroundings as you walked, people casting out fishing nets, children swimming under the walkways and jumping off the docks, the animals swimming around peacefully and interacting with the people there. Everything was so different than what you were used to, but an excitement you hadn’t expected spurred into your body. You had adapted to the Na’vi way once before, you could do it again.

Tsireya officially introduced herself, and you didn’t miss how she kept her eyes trained on Lo’ak most of the time.

“I am Neteyam, and this is my twin Y/n-” You internally rolled your eyes at how he insists on that. “This is our youngest sister Tuk” he continued. He gestured to Lo’ak and Kiri. Kiri introducing herself warmly and Lo’ak mumbling sheepishly.

Tsireya smiled at Lo’ak then to everyone else, after you settled down in the hut, she guided you all towards the edge of the docks to start your first swimming lesson. She and Ao’nung dove into the water with Rotxo, Neteyam and Lo’ak following them. You and Kiri shared a look before Tuk jumped in, then finally you and Kiri.

Being in the water was strange at first but you were able to familiarize yourself fairly quickly, Kiri had no trouble holding her breath while the others seemed to struggle more.

Your siblings swam after Tsireya and her brother, Kiri, staying behind to admire the plants and animals, getting lost in it all.

You followed the group but took more time getting close to the plants and watching the fish swim by. Soon you had to swim up for air, you breached the surface just as Neteyam and Lo’ak did, taking in breaths of air.

“It's so beautiful here” You grinned. Neteyam and Lo’ak looked at each other then back to you, affirming their agreement.

Ao’nung and Tsireya re-surfaced in front of you guys, you took a deep breath before going under again, making your way back to be mesmerized by the scenery, after a second ao’nung appeared infront of you, he started to sign something, but you couldn’t understand so you both swam up to speak.

“What are you doing? Your brothers are learning to breathe right” he questioned as if saying ‘why aren’t you too?’

You simply glanced back down and shrugged, you looked him in the eye “the reef is beautiful” you smiled and dove back down before he could say anything else

The feeling of being fully submerged in the water was what you loved, the fish that swam around you and the light reflecting off the coral.

Before long, Neteyam insisted we all return to the pod, Jake and Neytiri sat on the floor and waited for everyone to settle down to start dinner.

The pod wasn’t like the hammocks you grew up on, but the sloshing of water and arms cuddled around you comforted you to sleep.

You were adjusting well; your breathing was getting better, and you were picking up their underwater language quickly. Ao’nung and his friends teased your siblings a lot which upset you,but you often found him drifting near you, showing up in the same part of the reef you were exploring.

He started telling you about the different plants and animals, guiding you to the best parts for that time of day but he always found soemthing to make fun of, pulling at your tail or how clumsy you were in the water.

When it came time to tame the ilu and he called for them, you found yourself intrigued in the noises he made but once there was one infront of you that was all you wanted to focus on.

You felt his eyes on you, your brothers were learning to mount their ilu, you just stroked the one in front of you, smiling as you took in the animal, their fins and their beauty.

“-Y/n” Tsireya’s voice pulled you out of your trance, you looked up to see them looking at you, Neteyam and Lo’ak already on their ilu’s back. “Are you not going to get on?” she asked.

You looked down, “I uh… I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry” your cheeks burned at the embarrassment. Tsireya giggled and asked Ao’nung to show you how to do it again.

Ao’nung swam over to you begrudgingly, you mounted your ilu and he guided your hands to the correct positions.

“Now body position is very important,” He started to explain. “If you don’t have it right you could go too slow or fall off.” You listened intently, but when he touched your leg or hand for the demonstration, you couldn’t help but avert your eyes. The way his voice lowered when asked if you were listening, almost demanding you to look at him, made you freeze. God he’s annoying

Your brother went first, flying off almost immediately, driving Ao’nung’s point home. You clenched your jaw as to not say anything when they made fun of your brothers when their attempts failed.

You moved forward to try, Rotxo saying something along the lines of ‘this should be good’.

You focused as your ilu dove under water, keeping a tight grip and correcting your positions accordingly. It was overwhelming moving so fast in the water, but after a second it started to feel familiar. Admittedly you didn’t have complete control, but no one criticized you when you came back, a smug look on your face and still on your ilu. Ao’nung smirking, raising his chin in a ‘told you so’ way

When you heard your sister yelling you wasted no time running over to the source of the commotion, you and Neteyam arriving at the same time. Ao’nung and his friends were picking at Lo’ak, but Neteyam broke it up, telling the boys to back off. You stood behind him closer to Kiri, Ao’nung’s glances towards you not going unnoticed.

“From now on I need you to respect my sister.” Neteyam pointed to Kiri, not taking his eyes off Ao’nung, He nodded, putting his hands up amused, Neteyam turned around, gathering Lo’ak and you to all leave.

“they're freaks... A whole family of them” Now that pissed you off, you were about to retort when Lo’ak beat you too it.

You knew something was up when he started showing off his hand, then suddenly Lo’ak was punching Ao’nung left and right. “It’s called a punch bitch.”

Ah there it is

The boy immediately tackled Lo’ak, punching him and pulling at his tail, you watched Neteyam rub the back of his head before jumping into the fight.

You and Kiri shared a look, you smirked and watched her grimace before you ran in, tackling Ao’nung off Neteyam. You two rolled in the sand, you landing on top and throwing a few punches in his face before pulling at his ears.

“You fight like a girl!” he yelled, pushing you off him and grabbing your tail. You scrambled up and threw yourself backwards at him knocking you both to the ground again. Even though your hip was now throbbing, you turned yourself on top of him, straddling his back.

“Good!” You grabbed him by his hair and pushed his face into the sand, “Now leave my fam-” you were cut off when he pushed up and you fell off him, your head slamming against the sand, you took the chance to kick him in the face as he stood up. He recoiled but grabbed hold of your ankle.

“This is stupid” you heard Kiri yell.

Ao’nung pulled you forward by the leg, instinctively you kicked his shin causing him to fall. He caught himself just before he slammed into you, his hand holding onto your ankle, moved to now holding the skin between your thigh and hip. Your breath hitched

You didn’t realize your eyes were closed until you opened them and realized how close Ao’nung was, you stared at each other for a moment before Neteyam grabbed Ao’nung by the hair and pulled him off you, Roxto rushing into drag you by your tail.

You don’t know who broke the fight up but before you knew it Jake had come to collect you all and dragged you back to the pod.

“What did I tell you guys?!” Jake yelled.

“It was my fault” Neteyam started but Jake cut him off. “No, it’s not, you need to stop taking the blame for your brother”

“It was me” You interjected, now this Lo’ak jumped at.

“No it wasn’t! They were picking on Kiri and called us freaks! I was defending my sister.” Lo’ak confessed, he never liked Neteyam taking the blame but after the incident, he was always quick to coddle or protect you.

Jake sighed, “You can’t be starting fights, we can’t afford to cause more trouble here. Now go apologize” Lo’ak tried to object but Jake shut him down. Lo’ak stormed out, but just as you and Neteyam were about to leave Jake spoke up. “What did the other guys look like?”

“Worse”

Jake nodded “Good”

A smile crept onto Neteyam’s face “A lot worse”

“Get out of here” he then turned to you

“Not worse but he didn’t get a punch in...” You muttered. He smiled and tussled your hair, nudging you out of the pod in the process.

Ao’nung didn’t know what to think, the forest freaks were nothing but a nuisance to him, but atleast he could tolerate you. Why? He couldn’t tell you.

From the beginning he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, the way you swam and seemingly became one with the flora was mesmerizing.

It was easy to ignore it, but you were around so much he thought he’d show you around the reef. Though a few times he purposely took you to places he knew would be difficult for you, just to get a laugh in, but you didn’t have to know that.

But then the breathing lesson came, even though you were doing well, his sister insisted that he coach you. He couldn’t even focus on your breathing; you looked so Intune and at peace when you closed your eyes. He felt like his palms were on fire, the contact with your skin was all he could think about

Even when your brothers failed miserably at taming the ilu you were still at the forefront of his mind. His skin felt on fire every time he touched you. The way you refused to look at him when he was teaching you felt disrespectful?

He didn’t even try to hide how he was staring at your face, thankfully you couldn’t see. He found himself lagging behind, watching you from afar, you and Kiri bonding with nature in a way he didn’t think was possible for forest people.

None of that stopped him from picking fights with your siblings though.

He honestly didn’t expect you to get involved, it was when you tackled him that he lost his guard, you were a good fighter too. He didn’t think much about it until he was right in your face, his hand holding just above your thigh, he saw every detail of your face and he just wanted to memorize it in that moment.

He didn’t like this but brushed it off quickly, you were new, and he was curious about you. Once he spent more time around you, he’d lose interest. He was sure of it.

You sat on top of one of the giant roots the village hung from weaving thread. You and Neteyam’s birthday was coming up and though it would be a small celebration, you still wanted to give him a good gift, an important human tradition apparently.

You sensed him before you saw him, but you made no effort to acknowledge him just yet. His presence should have put you on edge but oddly enough, it didn’t.

“You’re a good fighter.” He finally said, Ao’nung sat behind you on a different root.

“I thought I ‘fought like a girl’” You retorted, he chuckled

“I thought that was a good thing” he stood up and jumped over to the root you were on and sat in front of you. After a moment, he leaned in real close to your face and spoke, “What are you making?” He seemed curious but there was still that pompous attitude in his voice.

You thought for a moment, debating whether to answer his question. “It’s a Anurai for Neteyam” you made eye contact with him. “Our birthday is coming us soon and I suppose with all this change it would be nice”

When he didn’t answer you glanced up and saw that he was watching you weave the necklace, a small smile creeped onto your lips before you realized he was probably watching your hands

“They’re freaks. Not true Na’vi”

You scrunched your hands and necklace together before abruptly standing up, without a word you hopped down the root and walked towards the village, your pace only growing faster when you heard him call out to you.

As you approached your Marui pod you hid the necklace behind your back in case Neteyam or Tuk were inside, Tuk wasn’t good at keeping a secret.

You peaked inside and only saw Neytiri, you smiled and sat down next to her, she glanced over and asked about the necklace.

“It's for Neteyam. Our birthday is coming up.” You explained almost in a whisper, you loved Neytiri, she was your mother, but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe around her sometimes.

She guided your hands closer to her so she could get a better look, she examined it thoroughly, you held your breath. “It is beautiful Y/n, you are a loving sister” she stated gazing at you fondly.

You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face, you scooted yourself closer to her as you continued to weave, wishing a little that she was watching. Her presence was demanding, but over time that grew to be a source of comfort for you, your need to please her only growing when she started to accept you into the family.

After a while you could hear Tuk calling for you outside the pod, you relented and hid the necklack in your bag. Smiling to Neytiri before you left you made your way to the edge of the dock, Tuk sat Infront of Kiri on her ilu, she started telling you about all the caverns Tsireya showed her. You sat on the edge of the dock listening and splashing your feet in the water.

Neteyam came up on his ilu, insisting you get in, Tuk quickly reiterating the sentiment. Before you can get in, Kiri looks around and asks where Lo’ak was

“Probably apologizing to Ao’nung or following Tsireya around” Neteyam teased

You smirked “Well I just saw Ao’nung so...” it had been obvious to everyone that Lo’ak was smitten with the Olo'eyktan’s daughter, you and your other siblings often poked fun at him for it, especially after she noted that his heart was beating fast while her hands were on his chest.

“I was just with Tsireya though...” Kiri commented, Tuk testifying the same.

You and Neteyam shared a look, he turned around and swam off with his ilu.

You comforted Tuk in the pod while she whined about wanting to go look for Lo’ak, you wanted to too, but you had to stay here, even when Kiri joined you in the pod you knew you'd be no help in the search. When Tuk got more restless you and Kiri took her into the water and tried to entertain her

When you heard he was back, you jumped on your ilu and followed the direction the people on the walkway went. When you arrived, you saw Lo’ak and Ao’nung talking, you didn’t care about what they were saying, you just rode up and jumped onto the docks.

“Lo’ak are you ok?” You placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him up and down before placing one on his face. most of the crowd had dispersed by now, leaving only you, Lo’ak, and Ao’nung.

“I’m fine sis” you could tell he was holding back. You scrunched your eyebrows in worry. “I just had a little trouble out at sea...” he confessed

“A little bit of trouble?!” You kept your voice down but the panic was still evident, you knew that what Lo’ak says is a ‘little trouble’ is not in fact little.

He places his hand on your shoulder, “Really sis. I’m fine.” He pulls you in for a hug, you nod and pull back. Before you can leave for the pod, you hear Ao’nung say your name.

His expression is hard to understand, a mix of guilt and embarrassment? You couldn’t place it.

All you do is turn your head and quickly walk away. You ignore the calls of your name.

Even that night when you all snuck off to a more secluded area to hear what happened to Lo’ak you ignored him, well you didn’t talk to him, you definitely glared more than necessary when Lo’ak talked about almost being killed by the Akula. You listened to Ao’nung as he spoke about the Tulkan but you never gave him more than a deadpan.

Befriending a deadly and killer Tulkan. Definitely seemed like something your brother would do.

“How long are you going to ignore him?” Lo’ak asked, clearly amused by the not-so-subtle distaste you showed for Ao’nung the while night. You rolled your eyes.

“He was staring at you a lot” Neteyam tartly pointed out.

“I was glaring at him a lot” you suggested

You ignored Ao’nung all morning, which for some reason made him follow you around even more. Instead of just being around, he was always right next to you or behind you. Once he realized you weren’t going to even listen to him, he just trailed behind.

This continued to the next day and eventually he got the hint and stopped bothering you.

“You know he apologized right?” Lo’ak asked while you were tending to your ilu.

“Yes.” you answered. “Doesn’t mean I want to talk to him; he got that through his thick skull eventually”

Kiri chucked, “It also helps that he and Neteyam caught on to his ogling and kept attempting to intimidate him” she mused, gesturing to Lo’ak.

“It’s weird! I don’t like it, Y/n is my sister” he defended, Kiri rolled her eyes as she retorted. “And Tsireya is his, by now you should be pummeled in the sand”

You ignore their bickering and swim to a more peaceful location on your ilu. You sat on your knees on the rock, your ilu’s head resting in your lap as you stroked her head and watched the scenery.

You were too caught up in the way the lowering sun reflected on the water to sense someone coming up behind you, suddenly you were lifted into the air and dropped slightly as they wrapped their arms around your waist, keeping you off the ground.

You screamed in surprise, ready to elbow the face of the person behind you.

“Got ya!” Ao’nung stepped back tightening his hold on you.

Relief washed over you before frustration took over. “Ao’nung let me go!” you yelled, adrenaline still rushing through you.

“No way, this is the only way I can get you to listen to me” he exclaimed, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Let me down.” you demanded.

“Only when you promise to hear me out” You could feel the smugness radiating from him, huffing you relented. Satisfied, he let you down but held onto your forearm when you turned around.

You glared at him to express your displeasure but he only smirked. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I did to your brother” his voice was genuine “But I realize it was wrong, I want to make it up to you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t Lo’ak be the one getting compensated”

He thought, smiling “He gets a free punch on me anytime he wants” raising his eyebrows, asking if that was satisfactory.

You rolled your eyes. He leaned in closer, “I want to make it up to you for making you so distressed, and for making you uncomfortable up on the roots the other day.” he elaborated.

Oh, you didn’t think he’d assume he was the problem when you walked away. Sheepishly you nodded.

“Ok” he smiled. “Meet me here an hour past sunset” and with that he walked backwards, keeping his eyes trained on you before mounting his ilu and swimming away.

Biting your lip, you thought for a moment about whether this would be a good idea, you glanced around and got onto your ilu, swimming back to your pod.

4K notes · View notes

endlessthxxghts · 6 months

Text

Need You

Husband!Frankie Morales x wife!afab!reader || W/C: ≈5k

Summary: Tío Santi comes to the rescue when Frankie confides in him about how the two of you have been way too busy for one another.

Warnings: Crazy events of Triple Frontier don't happen; let's just give these guys some happiness. Instead of coke, Frankie’s drug is you (LMAOOO). No “y/n.” No physical descriptions of reader (besides clothing choices), she looks like you😏 and big strong man Frankie can carry you <333. Reader knows a bit of Spanish. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f receiving). Unprotected P in V sex. Slow and sloppy😵‍💫. Breeding kink. Domestic kink (they get really spurred on calling each other husband and wife/esposo y esposa). Possessive kink. Daddy kink (but in the sense that reader just loves seeing Frankie as a Dad and wants to give more babies to parent!!!). Pussy slapping... Cum play/eating. Vaginal fingering/fucking. Squirting. Slight Dom!Frankie (he just really wants to hear his wife beg for his cum!!). Mentions of shower ✨activities✨. A lot of love basically — physically and emotionally. Extra warning for the parents who can’t leave their child with other people — Tío Santi takes their baby out to eat and get treats; she’s in good hands, I promise!!!

A/N: Husband Frankie is rotting my brain bad. Especially girl dad!Frankie. My ovaries are screaming. So here's this little 5k bad boy I whipped up. This is very much a porn with a bit of (yummy domestic) plot. Hope y’all enjoy. Thank you to my sweet sweet bae @javierpena-inatacvest for proof-reading this and hyping me up since it’s my first Frankie story to be posted! I love you so much 🥹🥹💚 (edit: someone had a comment about why Isa is amorcito instead of amorcita, so in case you had that question as well, read my explanation here!)

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Querida, I’m home!” Frankie called out.

“In Isa’s room, baby!” you responded.

Santi tagged along on his treck home today, offering to take Isa out for lunch and sweets after Frankie told him how both of you have been crazy busy lately. He helps himself to the kitchen while Frankie makes his way to you.

Frankie lightly knocks on the door before entering, gasping out in delight to earn a bubbly reaction from his three year old daughter. “Ay, mi esposa (my wife),” he exclaims, giving you a soft kiss to your lips. He looks to his daughter and grabs her from you, “y mi amorcito (and my little love),” he says, throwing her up in the air, coaxing a few more giggles out of her.

He sets her back down to play with her toys, and Frankie turns to you, pulling you in for a proper hello. Your lips slot against each other in a needy embrace, still as reserved as you two can be with your child in the room. He pulls away first, arms not leaving your waist. “Hi, mama,” he says with an adoring smile. “Hi, honey,” you respond, heart still skipping a few beats as if it’s your first time meeting him. He guides you to outside the doorway, closing Isa’s room ajar, so you both are out of her view.

“Santi’s here,” he tells you. “He offered to, uh, take Isa out to get food and some dessert,” he adds nonchalantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s been three years since your baby was born, and still you’re always reluctant to leave her with others. It’s not that you don’t trust the people you leave her with, it’s the fact that if anything were to happen — Gods forbid — you wouldn’t be able to be there, to comfort and protect her.

Your eyebrow raises in response. He squeezes you tighter into him, ducking closer to your ear. “And I was thinking,” he kisses the sweet spot near your pulse point, “we could take some time for ourselves?” He continues kissing and nipping at your neck, uttering a small please baby as he makes his way back to your lips.

Little did Frankie know, you didn’t need any convincing at all. You were just about ready to drop her off at your parents as soon as he got home from work today. You don’t tell him though. You like hearing him be a little desperate for you.

His hand skates lower to your ass, the other hand making its way to cup your front. “It’s been weeks, baby, I need to taste her,” he says, damn near a whine.

You grab both sides of his face and pull him into a searing kiss. “Go pack her bag,” you whisper as you pull away from his grasp, making your way to Santi to give him the rundown.

In record time, Frankie packs Isa’s go bag in under five minutes: diapers, extra change of clothes, baby wipes, baby Benadryl, and some of her comfort snacks just in case she’s extra picky today. He picks up his baby, assessing if she needs a diaper change — she’s dry — and heads to the kitchen. “Wanna hang with Tío Santi today, mi amor?”

Her face lights up, and she squeals, “yes, daddy, pleeeeaaase!”

He chuckles, his heart warming at how much she loves his best friend, his brother.

He and Isa enter the kitchen to you giving Santi the rundown on her allergies.

“We exposed her to all the major allergens already and no reactions, except for peanuts — she gets a little red, so just watch out for that. There’ll be Benadryl in her pack just in case.”

Santi gives you a salute, “Sir, yes, sir.”

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “One more thing,” you say as you go to kiss your baby goodbye. “Usually I’d ask if you could send pictures throughout the time you’re gone…” you look at Frankie.

Santi smirks, knowing where this is headed.

“But you don’t have to. At least for today,” your face remains composed, but the heat spreading across your cheeks exposes you.

“Got it. No peanuts,” Santi says, reaching for the bag off Frankie’s shoulder and the keys from his pocket, “and no interruptions,” he winks at you both. “Let me know when you guys are ready for us to come back,” he looks to his beautiful niece in her mother’s arms, peppering her with goodbye kisses.

“Vamanos (let’s go), mija!” Santi says, prying her out of your arms. Frankie reaches to give her one last kiss on her forehead, and they’re out the door.

As soon as the front door clicks shut, Frankie is on you in an instant, too riled up to wait until you’re in the bedroom. He needs you badly, and he needs you now. He’s caging you in between his body and the kitchen counter, lips on you like he’ll die tonight if he doesn’t touch you. Your lungs are burning for air, yet you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s too addicting. Too much time has passed without the pleasure you two bring one another, so you’ll sacrifice one survival need for another.

Before you know it, his hands are at the base of your ass, lifting you to the kitchen counter, and his lips are dragging down your jaw, your neck, and into your cleavage, nipping every little exposed place your cropped tank allows him. His hands are at the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down as he brings himself to his knees.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he takes a deep breath in. His eyes are impossibly darker, demeanor turning animalistic as he feels just your sweats alone and no underwear. He gets a view of your already glistening pussy, and he can’t help the growl that leaves his throat.

He settles his hands under the globe of your ass and scoots you to the edge, your thighs finding solace on his shoulders. You immediately lean back on your elbows, knowing the moment his mouth is on you, your body will go weak at his touch.

Without any warning, his tongue licks the entirety of your leaking seam, hands automatically gripping you tighter as the taste of you hits his tongue. The sound that leaves you sends shivers down his spine, his cock painfully hard and leaking in his jeans. He licks you a few more times, letting his drool drip down his tongue and spread all over you, making you a soaking mess of your arousal and his spit.

Once you’re drenched to his liking, he dives right in, face completely flushed against your sex, sloppily sucking and licking into you, hitting all the right buttons to make you see fucking stars. By his hands or his tongue, he still knows how to steer you in the direction of the most beautiful constellations, even if they are behind your eyelids.

“Frankie, fuck-!” you yell out, your inhibitions automatically down with the fact that the house is left to the two of you. Frankie’s hips involuntarily buck into nothing at your moans, missing the sounds you always made for him. Ever since Isa was born, both of you made a conscious effort to work on your noise levels — especially you. You were the most vocal he’s ever been with, and fuck if it didn’t make him all the more whipped. He almost forgot what your sounds do to him. Almost. But now that you’ve given him a taste again after so long, he needs more.

He circles your clit a few times and sucks it, hard. He pulls off with a lewd pop, his dominant hand leaving your ass and making its way to your entrance. You’re such a fucking mess that his two fingers slide right in, giving you the extra push Frankie needed to pull more heavenly moans and whimpers out of you. “Let me hear you, mama,” he says, tongue circling your clit as his fingers work you to the edge. “Sing for me, baby,” and with what little strength you have, you force your head forward to watch his ministrations, and the sight is what sends you falling first. Frankie’s mouth is wrapped around the entirety of you, eyes dark and on yours, his hooked nose rubbing against all the right places while his arm muscles ripple as he fucks his fingers in and out of you.

“Shit- oh, fuck-” you whine out, your head like a bobble head, too heavy to maintain upright. Frankie curls his fingers just right, and-

“Oh my God, Francisco, oh my God!” Your hips are bucking into his face, his own strength unable to keep your hips down with how hard your orgasm is hitting you. He lets you ride out your wave on his face, drinking every last drop coming out of you.

His fingers are out of you now, Frankie immediately cleaning them in his mouth, not wanting to Iet any of your sweet syrup go to waste. Your chest is heaving, eyes clamped shut, and your body is entirely limp. Frankie stands to his full height, and he’s pulling you up to sit up straight, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He chuckles a little. “Still with me?”

Your torso loses its strength momentarily, and you almost fall back. His arms immediately wrap around you, supporting you to maintain your upright position. You laugh at yourself, a blissed out smile gracing your face. He feels his heart flutter, just as strong as when he first met you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here, you monster,” you lightly laugh, resting your head on him. “God, I love you,” your voice slightly muffled from burrowing yourself into his chest.

His one hand leaves your back and wraps itself around your jaw, bringing your lips up to his. You can taste yourself on him, and you can already feel another fire being lit deep in your core, your arousal dripping onto the kitchen counter as your lips continue with his.

You pull away, breathless, ready for more. “Take me to bed, baby.”

“You sure you’re ready now?” He smirks.

“Keep teasing, and I won’t let you cum inside of me, big boy.”

His lips find yours again in a bruising manner, a growl leaves him as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. “Last I checked, you were the one begging for me to fuck my cum so deep inside you that it had no other option but to latch on. If that’s what you want again, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”

You whimper in response, your spurt of dominance dissipating immediately.

“That what you want, baby? Come on, tell me. I wanna hear it.”

Your eyes are glossing over, too pent up with a fertile need to get your brain to come up with any kind of response. His grasp on your jaw tightens, his lips ghosting yours as he talks. “Tell me you want my cum, baby. Tell me you want me to fill you up so fucking full of me.”

“Yes, baby, fuck, I need you. I need you inside of me, I need you to fill me. Please, you’re such a good daddy, I wanna give you more, please,” you ramble on. His mouth is on you again in a sloppy embrace as he picks you up and guides you two to your bedroom.

He sets you down at the edge of the bed. He guides your shirt off, then his. He pulls back for a second and shucks his bottoms off, giving you a complete view of his tanned and toned naked body, his little tummy a little soft around the edges. Your pussy is crying at the sight.

You don’t waste anymore time as you settle yourself to the center of your bed, your legs already falling open with muscle memory. Frankie licks his lips at the sight. Part of him just wants to go down on you again, but the way his cock is screaming at him for release and your pussy is clenching on nothing—yeah, his oral fixation can wait.

He settles himself in between your legs. His hands are grounded into the pillow beside your head as your legs automatically hook around his waist. He rubs his length across your wetness, you mewl for him as he lets his tip drag across your clit.

“Baby, please,” you whine.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

His tip breaches your entrance. God, you’ve missed him so much, and you tell him exactly that.

His lips are on yours, never really satiated with the amount of kisses he takes from you, “I fuckin’ missed you so much.” He pushes deeper in. “God, my beautiful wife, I love you so much,” he breathes out as his lips graze your temple.

His hips are flushed with yours, your hands secure themselves around his neck. “Please, baby, let’s never go this long again, I need you so bad,” he rasps. He’s pulling out again, his head kissing your core. “Need you always,” he says as he pushes back in, maintaining a slow but hard rhythm.

You pull him impossibly closer into you, your hands grasping and feeling him anywhere you can reach. You rock your hips to meet every push and pull of his own, lips ghosting each other with each movement, your eyes threatening to roll back at how entirely full you feel.

He’s taking his fucking time with you tonight, fucking you slowly into the mattress, harder with each thrust, reveling in sound of your pussy each time he pushes in, and he can’t help the way he smiles into the sloppy kisses and shared breaths.

You’re a complete mess, tears falling from your eyes at how addicting he feels mixed with the pure love you have for this man. You really don’t even register what you’re babbling about, but that doesn’t matter. Frankie’s in heaven listening to a mixture of your drawn out moans, the occasional Lord’s name in vain, and the repeated I love you, baby, I love you so much.

One of his hands drag down to your clit, rubbing clumsy yet perfect circles, forcing your dam to finally break. He’s completely soaked in you and so are your thighs and the bedsheets. Your fall is slow but all-consuming. Your back arches into him, your nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest, and the feeling is the final push that sends him painting your walls white.

His hand leaves your swollen clit and wraps itself around your lower back, helping you maintain your arch form as he continues rocking himself into you well into his softened state. He can feel your body start to tense out of overstimulation, so he finally pulls out of you, leaving you a leaking mess of both your and his cum. He sits back on his hunches, his fingers drawing circles on your inner thighs, just admiring the sight until his cock begins to stir again.

“Jesus, Morales,” you giggle breathily as you clocked the jump of his length.

He leans over you again, giving you a sweet, lengthy kiss as he begins to slide himself off the bed. “What can I say, baby? I’m insatiable with you,” he gives you a mischievous smirk.

He heads to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a chilled glass of water for you. “Drink up,” he says.

Before he makes it to the en suite bathroom, he adds, “I’m not done with you yet, mama.”

Despite the sensitivity down there, your pussy flutters at his words, craving him down there in any way shape or form.

He returns with a warm cloth, cleaning you up as best as he can with your second round of slick and his endless load of cum pouring from you. He sets the cloth down somewhere on the floor and situates himself up against the headboard. He wordlessly guides you to lay between his legs, your chest resting against his.

“Wanna check on Isa?” Frankie asks, albeit a little shy. You smirk a little, knowing you’re usually the one to cave first. You make grabby hands at your phone on the nightstand, nudging Frankie to grab it since his wingspan is much larger than yours. He hands it to you, and you immediately dial Santi, hitting the speaker button as it rings.

“Hey, Santi.”

“Hey, Mrs. Fish,” you can hear him laugh at his name for you. Frankie also gives a little laugh. He thought it was the funniest thing he’s ever said during your guys’ wedding reception. He calls you that more than your own name now.

“How’s it going?” you try to ask in an unconcerned fashion. Santi knows you both all too well to know that isn’t the case.

“You know you two didn’t have to quit just to check on her, right? Tío Santi knows how to distract! Also, tío Santi knows how to put her down for a nap!” He says proudly.

“I believe you, Santi, don’t worry. Just checking. Frankie just kept bugging-”

Before you could continue your sentence, Frankie’s hands immediately go to your sides, hitting all your ticklish spots. You scream out, a loud stream of giggles leaving you.

“Coño, por favor, not while I’m on the phone!” You hear Santi say. “Sorry, Sorry,” you say, still out of breath from Frankie’s merciless attack.

“Actually, Santi, can I ask another favor?”

Frankie looks at you confused. You smirk at him. “Is tío Santi prepared for his first sleepover?” His confusion fades and immediately his eyes are consumed with pure lust, his soft brown eyes turning black.

Santi is silent for a moment. “You two are downright feral, you know that, right?”

You stifle a laugh. “Ay Dios mío (oh my God),” Frankie mutters.

“As long as I get another niece — or nephew, I really have no preference — in nine months time…” Santi trails off in thought. “Then I’d dedicate every damn weekend to her,” he says.

You turn your head around and up to meet Frankie’s eyes, both of you in shock at Santi’s silent invitation, silence fills the air for a moment before you finally bring yourself to speak.

“Oh? Alright, then,” you softly say. “Thank you, Santi, you’re the best. We’ll text you, okay? Bye,” you hang up, not giving Santi any chances to return the call-ending formalities. You and Frankie are still looking at each other, eyes wild at the proposition before you.

“Every weekend, huh?” Frankie says, breaking the tension first. His head dips down to place a kiss where your neck and shoulder meet.

You suck in a breath, arousal forming faster than a strike of lightning. “Mhm,” you barely get out. His hands are roaming your body now, your phone thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room, long forgotten. He places his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading you open and keeping them atop his own legs, so he can hold you open. His one hand is spread largely over your lower belly while his other hand is already teasing your core.

His finger circles directly on your clit, you yelp in response, your body twitching. “Every weekend, I’m gonna get to fuck my wife, huh?” Frankie says into your ear. “Gonna fill her full of me?” Your hips buck at the huskiness of his voice, of his possessiveness over you. Your response is incoherent, more of a moan than anything. Next thing you know, your room reverberates with the noise of a wet slap.

He spanked your pussy. The sound that escapes your throat is beyond arousing, Frankie’s cock back to life, dripping on your lower back. “Answer me properly, baby,” he says again, softly. His fingers are circling your clit again, forcing more of your wetness out of you, his cum from earlier still seeking its place on your bedsheets.

“Mmm, fuck-” you breathe, “Yes, yes, every weekend, baby,” you’re nodding your head frantically as you try to keep your eyes trained on his actions down below. “Every weekend you’re gonna make me so full,” you whimper, “Gonna fuck a baby into me, daddy, I need you so bad.”

He slides two of his fingers into you at your words, his hips grind into your back at the feel of your warmth, of his spend keeping you nice and wet. His fingers pump in and out of you at a languid pace, his fingers arching in a come-here motion to beckon more of his cum onto his fingers. He pulls out of you momentarily, analyzing the mess he’s made. “Open, querida,” he whispers, likely in a trance at the sight.

You open your mouth, tongue out and ready. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, and you lap up his salty spend greedily, as if it were the sweetest of syrups. You taste a distinct tanginess on his fingers, most likely the product of your own arousal. Your eyes fall shut at your taste, eyes feeling heavy and too blissed out to stay open. He pulls out of your mouth with a pop and grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He pulls you in for an open-mouthed kiss, wet and hot. His hand leaves your face and returns to your core. His fingers are back inside you, pushing in and out as his palm grinds perfectly into your clit. Your hips are moving in tandem, providing you with the perfect rhythm to soak him all over again. His lips never break from your own, tongues dancing in a way only you two get to know.

Your hand seeks purchase at the back of his neck, tugging at the base of his curls, taking away his opportunity to break away from you. He moans into your mouth at the sharp sensation, your lower back a sticky mess from how much he’s leaking onto you.

Finally, you break away, lips still connected by the thinnest of spit lines. “Baby, I- I’m gonna cum, shit-”

Frankie lets out a growl, desperate to have you fall apart on him. He maintains his same pace, adding a bit more pressure of his palm to your clit, his other hand pushing harder down into your belly, knowing how crazy the stimulation drives you. “Give it to me,” he mumbles in your ear, his heavy breathing fanning across your cheek. “Need it, baby. Need you,” he whines.

“Fuck-!” you yell out, head pushing harder into his shoulder, eyes clamping shut and forming white, blinding fireworks beneath your eyelids. He fucks his fingers in you as you ride out your high, tears letting loose as your pussy squirts into his hand and all over both your bottom halves.

The sight transforms him into a cumming mess, the only stimulation being the friction from your backside as he rutted into you. You don’t notice the warm wetness between your bodies until your body falls completely limp against him, breathing still heavy but slowly returning to normal. Frankie bejewels your face with sweet kisses — from your temples to the edge of your shoulder that he can reach — as you slowly come back to Earth.

You look up at him now, a soft smile spread across your face. His heart stutters at the sight. You shift your back a little. “Did you…?”

“Yes, I did,” Frankie admits way too quickly, embarrassment flooding his face.

You pull him into one more kiss before you start to get up. “Come on. Shower and then we eat,” you tell him. “You didn’t get to settle yourself down after work,” you add, slightly scolding him for his impatience yet also silently thanking him.

“I can always eat in the shower,” Frankie adds suggestively, his eyes giving your body a once over as you stand beside the bed, waiting for him to get a move on.

“Morales!” you gasp out. “Bad,” you say, shaking your head from side to side.

“You know it’s gonna happen, mi amor (my love),” he says as he stands, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth.

And it does happen. He makes you fall apart on his tongue twice, and you pay him back by reducing him down to jelly legs as you fuck his cum down your throat. By the time you two actually start your shower, the water is completely cold, not one drop of hot water available.

Post-shower, you two cook a fast, simple meal, too eager to be on each other again, but too aware of how important it is to give your body sustenance in order to continue with your feral behavior. You only get a few hours of sleep that night. Falling asleep after each round only to wake back up a horny, dripping mess just to fuck again. You don’t remember the last time you two did something like this, but damn were you two needing it. You made a mental note to thank Santi for his much needed offer.

The next morning you wake up at seven, the first sensation you feel for the day is your sore pussy, red and puffy as she begs you to give her a break. You look at the knocked out man beside you, give him a kiss on the forehead and break away from his hold, bringing yourself to the bathroom. You take your phone with you.

[07:13] Just woke up. Drop Isabela off whenever you’re ready.

[07:15] God, no wonder she’s up already. She’s got your early ass schedule.

You laugh to yourself, picturing Santi a half asleep man child as your daughter crawls all over him, forcing him to get up, too. What Santi didn’t know was that it was actually Isa’s schedule that you were on.

[07:16] Pobrecito (poor thing). :(

[07:16] She’ll probably be asking for Frankie soon. She always cuddles him in the morning.

[07:17] Yep, she just did. I’ll feed her some breakfast now, then we’ll be on our way. That good, Mrs. Fish?

[07:18] If it’s good with little Fish, then it’s good with me.

He sends you a thumbs up, and you set your phone down. You wash up and get ready for the day.

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you head to Frankie’s side of the closet and grab one of his soft, cotton tees to throw on.

You head to the kitchen, your first course of action being to fire up the espresso machine. Espresso is the only form of coffee you drink, and soon enough, Frankie followed in your footsteps. Just as you suspected, as soon as the smell of the beans filled the air, Frankie appeared in the kitchen. His sleepy eyes and sexed out hair on display nearly cause your knees to buckle, your aching pussy betraying your want for a lazy morning.

He makes his way to you and kisses you, soft and slow, probably needing a lazy morning just as much as you. “Good morning, mi esposa (my wife),” he says, voice still raspy from sleep.

“Mmm, good morning, mi esposo (my husband),” you smile up at him. “Sleep well?”

“With the sleep that I did get, I’d say yeah,” he says. “You really tired me out, hermosa (beautiful),” he adds.

You pull him down for another kiss. You’ll never tire of the feeling. “Waffles?”

His eyes light up, a boyish grin on his face. “Yes, please.”

Around 8:30 as you and Frankie finish your waffles, the front door is unlocking. A little girl with crazy hair comes busting in, running straight for the both of you to pull you guys into a tight group hug.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she screams.

“Mi amorcito,” Frankie responds, matching her energy. “Mi niña loca (my crazy girl),” you squeal. “I missed you so much!” you add.

You and Frankie kiss each of her cheeks, sandwiching her little face.

“Did you have fun with tío Santi?” you ask.

“So much fun, mommy! We had ice cream for break-”

Before she could finish, Santi chimes in. “O-o-okayyyyy, Isa!” he claps his hand once. “Why don’t you bring this to your room,” he hands her a tiny gift bag — probably the product of some shopping they did — “while I talk to mommy and daddy?”

“Okay, tío Santi!” She takes the bag and makes her way to her room.

Your eyebrows are raised in mock scolding as you wait for Santi to explain himself. “Hey! In my defense, those puppy dog eyes are a killer. I couldn’t say no.”

The three of you break out into laughter, Frankie going in for a hug, clapping Santi on the back as he releases him.

“Waffles?” you offer Santi. He graciously accepts, making his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, helping himself.

“So-” you and Frankie say at the same time. Santi pauses his actions mid-bite.

Frankie nudges you to speak first. You clear your throat to ease the awkwardness in the room.

“So,” you start again. “Were you, uh… were you serious about watching Isa?” you ask?

“Every weekend?” Frankie adds.

You giggle, nodding an affirmative at your husband. “Yes, every weekend?”

Santi finishes the bite he paused on, and sets his waffle down. “You dirty dogs!” he says.

“Pope, come on,” Frankie’s palms go over his cheeks that are currently turning red at Santi’s teasing.

He lets out a laugh. “Sí, cabrón (yes, asshole),” Santi says, slapping Frankie’s shoulder. “Of course I’m serious. I’d do anything for both of you, and especially that demon of a little girl.”

Your heart warms at Santi’s sentiment. You’re beyond grateful Frankie has a best friend like him.

“On one condition,” Santi adds, his eyebrow quirked up.

“Anything,” you say eagerly. Frankie nods his head in agreement with you.

“I also wasn’t kidding when I said I’d need another sobrino (niece/nephew).”

You and Frankie look at each other, your stares saying everything they needed to. Yeah, Santi didn’t need to worry about that.

And you were right when the next Saturday morning, a month and four tío Santi sleepovers later, you and Frankie presented Santi with your pregnancy test displaying two pink lines.

End note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @suzdin @getitoutofmymind @pedrostories

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed!

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

969 notes · View notes

hanrinz · 11 months

Text

✩ ‧ ₊˚ TO LOVE AND TO HOLD — MICHAEL KAISER

wherein your boyfriend is terrible at pick-up lines, but it's okay he's cute anyway.

your boyfriend of four years, michael kaiser is terrible with a lot of things. namely, with his incapability of cooking meals, his terrible sense of time—if not for you maybe he won't even come to some grand events his team holds in time.

but this main habit of your boyfriend that just takes the prize, is him making awful pick-up lines.

may it be a line he saw from a rom-com movie or he's seen on the internet, he'll make it a mission to use it on you every single time.

what makes it worse, is that he doesn't even say it right.

your boyfriend is a lot of things, but using a good pick-up line is not one of them. your boyfriend is idiotically cute and sometimes a jerk.

it baffles your friends how you ended up with such a man like michael kaiser. maybe, it was his dumb jokes or his stupid face, you'll never know.

love is blind they said, maybe it's true for you.

on a cold afternoon, where you and kaiser are walking down on the road for a grocery run. the sun hides behind the clouds and the breeze blows through lightly.

scrolling through your phone as you check the list of the items you'll be buying. walking aimlessly as your boyfriend leads you, a hand placed on your lower back.

surprisingly he's quiet, looking at the buildings and the speck of white flakes that falls faintly on this day.

you continue to revel in the comfortable silence you were wrapped into, listing down some items you've been thinking on top of your head.

milk, strawberries, chocolates...

mind blanking from the things you need at your home, you turn to your lover. whose attention was taken by the surroundings, it's a rare sight to see.

your kaiser is quiet and deep in thought, an eerie scene in your honest opinion, but you don't point it out loud.

instead, you call out to him.

"what do you want for dinner?"

silence.

for someone who likes talking off his mind, your boyfriend didn't even hear you. well, that's something new.

you only call more.

"kaiser? hello? ...love?"

the same response was met.

you wonder what was weighing on your boyfriend's mind for him to drown out the world. it makes you think if he's ignoring you, but you didn't dwell on it for much any longer.

huffing as you try once more, with a louder voice.

"kaiser—"

your boyfriend's head turns all so suddenly to you, interjecting your words.

"—my hand is kinda heavy, can you hold it?"

your boyfriend is really terrible, you conclude.

a smile was plastered on his face, his stupidly charming smile was hanging on his lips. the kind of one that you're familiar with, the one where he finds another pick-up line to use.

he looks at you expectantly, gauging your reaction to what you think of it, you presume—his amazing lines.

and you try to stop the ever growing grin that makes its way to your face, but failing miserably.

only replying to his charms back.

"that's not how the line goes, but you're cute so fine."

a chuckle leaves your lips, making kaiser pout. compared to the pick-up lines he had uttered before, this was definitely better, but not the best.

but it's fine—it's okay because it was him, you think.

"hey, don't laugh! i tried my best okay?" he cried out.

another laugh leaves your mouth, that you tried to stifle—keyword: tried

you took his hands with yours, squeezing it three times in a way to comfort him, dragging him to the store that comes into view.

"okay, mr. i-tried-my-best, whatever you say." you teased, before letting yourself freely laugh at his antics, that only makes him pout more.

your boyfriend was really bad at this, but you don't mind. it's fine, because he's stupid and yours.

◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated ! okay,, first time writing for this man i hate him i swear :x based on this prompt btw !!

#roses ‘r rosie #read at your own risk #hana i'm looking at u #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock fluff #kaiser fluff

1K notes · View notes

rafecameronsslxt · 1 year

Text

Pretty

Rafe Cameron x Virgin! Reader

Synopsis: A sweet girl falling for a man like Rafe Cameron leads to nefarious gazes as you and Rafe walk out sweaty and red lipstick covered on his neck.

Warnings: Thigh riding, slight corruption?, Angst at the end.

A/N: Making a part two because why not? Also, the request fan fictions will be out tomorrow.

An hour before your parent's event, your brother was nowhere to be seen. It was the most significant advancement for their company to expand and aggrandize. More or less, Rose asked you to find Rafe, and knowing he was with your brother, you ran in your ruby-red Christian Louboutins if running was concluded to waddling in the Country Club, all eyes, failing to look at their girlfriends and to you instead. Most girls give you dirty looks, their eyes falling on your body. Having everyone stare at you was never intentional, but you also never noticed.

There they sat in casual clothes, talking with each other. “Nathan, our parents need us to be there. Where is your suit?” You knitted your brows together. “We’re living precariously,” Nathan said with a lively tone as Rafe snorted, receiving amused looks from both of them. You sigh at the childish behavior. You shift on your heels, becoming uncomfortable in the sun's warmth, illuminating the highlighter and Chanel red lipstick. You bite your lower lip, looking at Rafe, who has barely said a word to you as usual.

Anytime you were around, he’d get quiet, unwilling to look at you. “We’ll go.” Rafe glanced at Nathan, who stood up, leaving you behind to catch up. You were practically just the younger sister in every situation because, as people said, you were entirely sweet and innocent though it was true.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the man before you, watching his tanned arms flex almost too perfectly in the grey and black shirt, showing off every vein in his forearm while he adjusted his grey backward hat. You saw Rafe every day. Whether it was at your house or his or during your morning jog, he was always in your line of sight.

You once asked your parents what they thought about the Cameron boy, and they worded their sentence, carefully trying not to bash him as your parents were good friends of Rose and Ward Cameron, but to say the least, they are not fond of him and wished your brother wouldn’t hang around with such bad influence as Rafe Cameron, so why would you want a man like him? A man who would only break your pure heart.

We arrived at the house, but you had to get going quickly. You couldn’t help but feel deep sadness as you walked out the door. Did Rafe hate you? You called Kiara to pick you up, hoping she would advise you. You barely had any boy experience, and it shames you because you’re nineteen and dated only one guy just for him to drop you for another girl, but he quickly got put in his place by your brother and Rafe…

“Doesn’t even GLANCE AT YOU! You’re drop-dead gorgeous. Who couldn’t like you? But, wait, who is he?” Kiara’s jaw dropped, and she gestured her hands all over.

You smile at Kie’s reaction but tauten as you’ve been edging around Rafe’s name. Kiara would freak out if she knew it was Rafe, you fancy. “I don’t- remember his name.” You rub your neck nervously, stuttering over words. “What?” Her lip arches in confusion as she parks her car, and we get out. You avoid the comment. “Ok… Since you don’t want to reveal the mystery man, I must find my parents.” She pulls you in for a short-lived hug and disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone.

You go to the front, lifting the red floral summer dress in hopes you won't fall as your parents start their speech, causing everyone to go quiet. They talk about how grateful and happy they are to make it where they are, but a fragrance envelops you, cedar and Caledonian sandalwood, and to your knowledge of cologne, it's from Chanel, and the scent entices you to turn your head only to be met by a pristine Rafe. His towering body glances down at you, feeling flustered. You avert your eyes back at your overjoyed parents.

Once they announce who they're partnering with, the mass breaks out into a cheer, and you clap, smiling, proud of your parents, and everyone begins to split into groups again. Your bones feel strained, and butterflies appear in your stomach, only for you to stumble backwards, landing in Rafe’s arms, then moving to hold your waist. “I’m so sorry- I’ve been really uncoordinated today.” You give him a thin smile, but the smile fades, deterring you from thinking optimistically about his reaction and the atmosphere surrounding you and Rafe. It wasn’t anger or enmity, but it felt tense and something else you couldn’t place as he leaned down to your ear, his breath light. “I’m going to ruin you, pretty girl.” Your body stiffens as he places a feathery kiss on your red lips, yet a bright red stain marks his. Rafe smirks at your cherry face, but his blue eyes are a dark sea, and his jaw sharpens.

Rather than leaving, he intertwines his hand with yours, taking you to an extensive vacant room crammed with spare decorations and chairs. You don’t realize you're holding your breath until Rafe brings you onto his thigh. Your heart is palpitating, and butterflies have become aching for him. The room is cold, making you shudder. Rafe’s gaze is piercing as you try to get comfortable, but wiggling around on his thigh is futile and instead stirs a quiet moan from you.

You feel embarrassed. “You know how pretty you look like this? You know how long I’ve wanted you?” His low voice mumbles into your lips, and he places his large hands on your waist, pulling you farther up his thigh. You relax into his soothing touch, but the nervousness doesn’t leave. You’ve never had sex or have done this before; Rafe guides your hips back and forth, creating friction between his thigh and your clothed clit. You whimper against his lips as you start to move into the rhythm of his hands.

You feel selfish for letting him do all the work, so you bring your hand to his tangible erection and start palming him through his dress pants. His size makes your eyes widen, Rafe was a big guy, but his length was impressive. “Fuck- you don’t have to do that, pretty girl,” Rafe grunts out while your movements against his thigh become swifter. “I want to.” You moan into the sickening sweet yet dirty kiss as he slips his tongue into your mouth, greedily accepting it. You gasp, pressing your body harder into his thigh but keeping your languid pace on his cock. Your legs feel weaker as pressure builds up in your stomach, and the throbbing initiates burning in your lower abdomen. “Rafe-” You wrap an arm around his neck, and your face is hidden in the nape, mouth open and pressing your plump lips to his Adam's apple. His hands grip your waist indefinitely to leave a red imprint.

“My good, pretty girl. Only for me, hmm?” He rasps out through grunts. You nod; words would be incomprehensible in the condition you are in. Edging release until the pure gravelly voice of Rafe pushes you over the boundary, officially connecting yourself with the Cameron man in more ways than you ever thought would happen. You are spasming around nothing; adrenaline is still coursing through the white splotches as you pant. Despite Rafe not receiving much, he has a dazed look in his eye, and you lay your forehead on his. But you see hesitation cover his relaxed complexion.

What are we? The question is a broken record in your head. You didn’t want a hookup with Rafe. You trust he won’t take advantage of you, but you hold him to higher standards. Rafe would never do that to you. Yet, Rafe must see your wheels turning because he reassures you. “I like you, pretty girl.” His thumb hovers over your lips, outlining them until you recognize the red lipstick gleaming on his neck, lips, and cheeks. Your jaw drops. Your widened eyes look to Rafe’s calmed ones. You put your hand under his jaw, lift his head, and take a picture of all the marks to show him, to which he shrugs. “Your lipstick is smeared too, pretty girl. There’s no bathroom, so we’ll just have to go out.” You wobbly stand up from his thigh and timidly raise a brow at the noticeable strain in his black dress pants.

He stands up, unzipping his pants. “Rafe-” He doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings down a hand and starts rearranging, tucking his hard-on under the waistband of his boxers. “Let’s go, pretty girl,” Rafe says carelessly, slinging his arm around your shoulder, not wasting time on your answer or pleas.

It’d be an understatement to say all eyes were on you. Everyone criticizes you with sharp eyes, and you decide you are lucky you aren’t under eighteen because your parent's face drops, livid at the sight of Rafe’s neck and your puffy lips. Kiara is stunned, and your protective brother begins to walk you out, with Rafe following. “I can take her home, man.” Nathan is coldly stern as Rafe leans down to kiss you softly and wave him off. You take off the ruby-red pumps, placing them on the floor of Nathan’s truck.

“Why Rafe? Rafe Cameron, of all people, you had to get involved with him. What changed in the last hours to have you walking out like that!? Do you realize how pissed Mom will be? Jesus, did you guys seriously have sex? You berated me for barely making it, but you could barely stay and got my friend's dick wet instead.”

“We didn’t have sex! You can sleep with fifty girls, but I get with Rafe, which becomes a problem. What the fuck, Nate!” You’re not one to scream, but the circumstances quickly overwhelm you. A disgusted look holds on your face, not at Nathan but yourself. You throw your hands into the air, pinching the bridge of your nose, tears threatening to fall because of how embarrassed you’ve become of the situation, not weighing the consequences or reactions.

The orange sky had slipped away to a dark starry night, and few cars were on the road. The rest of the drive had been eerily silent until Nathan pulled into the driveway, and we finally reached the front door.

“Rafe is not a good guy. We know this. You. Know. This. But if you like him as your brother and friend, I support you, and I’m sorry for being a dick.” You can’t explain how much you love your brother for comforting you and being open to your relationship with Rafe. Nate tightly wraps his arms around your waist as if he is losing a piece of you, but he is open-minded to the new chapter that will begin in your life, with or without the people around you.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron imagine #obx angst #obx rafe cameron

1K notes · View notes

atsuwumus · 4 days

Note

CONGRATS ON HITTING A HUGE MILESTONE!!!🤍 you absolutely deserve it and i truly love and adore your works so much! theyre so well written and exciting to read!!<3 i was wondering if you could write a little smth on Zayne form L&DS thats spicy.. hehehe the plot or flow i will leave it up to you?? but again i love you!!! so much!!! congrats once again<3

๋࣭⭑ 𝐌𝐀𝐈 𝐌𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 : AAAAA sweet anon you're making me blush!! (๛ ˘ ³˘ )♡ you are so sweet, thank you for these kind words!! it always makes me so happy to hear that you're enjoying my writing!! I hope I can continue sharing fics you all enjoy <333

୨ৎ haunting me followers event

" 𝐇𝐌𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 very patient, are you? Seems like a virtue I'll have to teach you."

A whine sits high in your throat and you have to swallow several times in order to keep quiet, watching through a heavy lidded gaze as Zayne once again aligns his pool cue with the ball. You should be embarrassed by your current position, ashamed that you had managed to get yourself pinned down like this, but the mere sinful sight of him is enough to make you wish you could clench your thighs together.

What was supposed to be a simple lesson in pool had unfolded into a shameless display of debauchery. Zayne was testing your patience and you were testing his self control.

The clink of a ball hitting the surface of another reels your thoughts back to the present moment and you bite down hard on your bottom lip when you meet Zayne's gaze. He hardly looked like the man you knew — respected doctor, known colleague and close friend. If anything he looked like a predator ready to pounce at its prey, hazel eyes darkened by black rings around his irises and black strands of hair brushing across his brows.

He blows out a hot breath where he's still nestled between your thighs and you whimper, the sensitive skin there responding nicely, drawing out just the reaction he wanted. He wanted to rile you up, wind you up tight until you'd tremble and break down from nothing more than a simple touch.

Ever so slowly he lowers his head until his mouth ghosts over your clothed cunt, taking a sinful inhale before a sly smile spreads across his lips. "She's quivering," he whispers and you can feel every single syllable against your skin. Your clit throbs and your nails dig into the worsted wool beneath you, anchoring you to nothing. Your panties are far beyond ruined by now, stained with silky evidence of how badly you needed him to do something, anything.

"You're dripping, sweet girl. And I haven't even touched you yet..." A breath, a chuckle that hums underneath your heated skin. "Is that how bad you want me?"

The sound of his breathy laugh is enough to make you tilt your hips up, chasing those honeyed lips that spoke so many vulgar phrases, pouting at him. With ease he pushes you back down with a gloved hand before he murmurs, "Too bad. I have four more balls to sink."

#SCREAMS #he drives me a little insane #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace drabbles #zayne smut #zayne fic #zayne imagines #zayne drabbles #zayne x y/n #zayne x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds smut #lads smut #lads zayne #lads x reader

182 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 7 days

Text

Good times-141

Photo credit: @ave661

Based on a request: Hi! I hope you're enjoying your weekend and fully rested <3 Is it okay to make a short blurb request of TF141 trying out SEA (South East Asian) food (i.e., fried rice, chicken rice, tom yam soup etc..) made by gn!eader? - sort of their reaction Feel free to ignore this if it doesnt interest you :) <3 Have a great day ahead, thank you :3 ---- GN!Reader, something short, platonic?relationship ----

A/N: I really love making short, simple fics, so..thank you

The team always complained about the food on base. Chow Hall always had food, but not good enough after a long day of work. A week ago, Gaz found you eating in your office, the scent was too good to not ask about but with one look in his eyes, you sighed and nodded. 4 days later, you found yourself filling out paperwork to leave the base, buy some ingredients and then cooking the food without hurting the feelings of those in charge of chow hall.

With a day's worth of preparation, by day 6, you had all you needed to feed the hungry men you call family.

Price once mentioned that he and the team, before you had joined, had a mission in East Asia. He mentioned bonding over the food at some restaurants. It's from where you wanted to feed them dumplings, kimchi-jigae, tteokbokki (for Soap because he loved it so much the first time), mochi for Ghost, the tasty hotpot for Price because he loves it so much and for Gaz, ais kacang.

The plan was perfect, but keeping it a secret was hard. You knew you wanted to surprise them for dinner, especially after the tough call they had that day.

By the end of the day, you summoned them to the common room. A round table, cosy chairs and food welcomed them. "Ta-da!" you smile as you watch their reactions. Soap was the first to notice the food you had made and went immediately to hug you. Gaz and Ghost noticed rather later and Price smiled when he knew where this idea came from.

It was a gesture from the heart and a way to thank them for the past months.

When they all sat down, you watched them eagerly eat the food. It was a nice change for once. Ghost even took his mask off, a rare event, but he did it and ate comfortably.

Gaz and Soap began with the jokes, adding more each time which was followed by loud laughter and sighs from the team. Price devoured the hotpot, addressing you as a master chef whenever he could, became normal through the night. He even let you have a cigar and you will sure brag about it later on. Gaz adored ais kacang, the desert you had served when all was eaten and enjoyed. He made sure to put his arm around you and compliment the taste of it all, adding more hums each time he ate some more.

When it came to Soap and tteokbokki, no one could fight his mouth off it. He did fight Gaz for the last piece, which certainly made you feel better about your cooking skills. kimchi-jigae was the ultimate favourite of Ghost, apart from his beloved mochi. He always made sure you knew he'd expect this again if he let you skip field practice every other time.

By the end of the night, you sat back, drank some beer and watched a wholesome scene. Price was right, just eating, and talking about anything is what truly makes food delicious. It'll be a memory to take for years to come.

It's nice to think that from sneaking ingredients into the base it all leads to this, sitting down, drinking and eating with your best mates as they try to convince you that their so-called good ideas back in Asia were not bad at all.

Tags: @liyanahelena

159 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 9 months

Text

s'entendre

élan part five: y/n's first night out since the gala couldn't be that bad. right?

wordcount: 14.4k+

—————

(Y/N) couldn't help the frown that landed on her face as she looked in the mirror.

While her time in Paris had been the best she'd had in a really long while, it wasn't necessarily showing. At this point, she'd missed three of her facial appointments, her skin beginning to cry out from the lack of treatment. Her nails were barely hanging on, her acrylics grown out past the point of comfort. While her mental state was beginning to grow to a wholly positive place, the rest of her wasn't really catching up.

To top it off, her makeup wasn't cooperating either. Maybe she should really get a glam squad like Harry thought—at least then she would have a chance at being on time for events with a fully formed face.

With Emma joining them in Paris for the weekend, Francesca had insisted they go out and visit the nightlife. Of course, the one night she knew there would no doubt be photos caught of her just from the way her friends were still very active on their social medias, would be when her makeup cooperates the least.

Letting out a rumbling groan, (Y/N) was that close to calling off the night as another smudge of mascara blobbed on the crease of her eye.

Like always, Harry popped his head inside her bedroom, a pinch in his brows appearing as he took in the otherwise safe room.

"What's the matter, hm?" he asked, stepping inside her room. His reflection was made in the mirror, a clear view of his eyes stitched on her as she gazed at him through the glass.

It was a bit petulant, her reaction, with the way she puffed out her bottom lip with a pout. "My skin doesn't look good, and my makeup is only making it worse." Before she could even finish her statement, Harry was shaking his head, lips thinning as if he was bored with the fact she couldn't see facts right in front of her. "Harry, really," she argued against his silent protest, "My makeup looks so weird, right now."

(Y/N) watched as he settled in behind her, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flittered over the mirror, ever-observant.

"You're very funny sometimes, you know that?"

That only strengthened the frown on her lips and pinch in her brow. "I'm not being funny right now."

Dropping his gaze, his features facing the floor, Harry shook his head again. Down the slope of his nose, she swore she saw the edges of an easy smile. Looking up, only traces of amusement lingered on his lips.

"That's what you think," he countered cryptically, "Let me know when you're ready."

With that, Harry popped out of her room as quickly as he joined her. Sweeping her eyes away from the doors he exited through, returning to the mirror set in her vanity, she took in the planes of her face.

Though she could still see texture and bumps, pores and blemishes, it didn't bother her so terribly for a moment. Even the sight of her outgrown nails with dull edges didn't pick at her nerves.

If Harry didn't think she looked silly, even after he witnessed the glamour she preferred in New York, then maybe it wasn't so bad.

Even if he didn't say he thought she looked pretty, he thought her complaints against her features were outlandish enough to laugh at.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like agonizing over her skin anymore. She looked just fine, she decided.

—————

"Tell me again how you're going to tell me if you're uncomfortable or want to leave."

Outside the windows at her back, the underground of Paris whirled past, the train moving quickly under the treasures on the surface. The car was on the quiet side for the night, the hour still early before others drunk on champagne would be stumbling through.

Looking up at Harry through the fan of her false lashes, she repeated the same thing he told her at least five times before leaving the penthouse: "If I can, I need to come and tell you right away. But, if I'm in a situation where I can't reach you, I'm going to look at you and nod three times."

That slow blooming smile touched the corner of his mouth, sot lips curling as he gazed down at her. "Perfect," he praised her, adjusting his hands from where they were curled around the rail on either side of her, "Jus' remember that for me, please. You're going to have a really fun night, I jus' want you to be safe."

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded pliantly, gaze dropping down to the slope of his neck, "I—um—I also don't want to drink a lot tonight."

"Okay," Harry answered cautiously, voice trailing off.

"I know that's not a rule or anything, but I just... I don't want to get too deep tonight or anything," she explained in a small voice. While she wanted to unwind and play with her friends, she wasn't interested in stumbling around or blabbing things to anyone willing to sit and listen. She hoped she wouldn't have to worry about any photographers, but that didn't mean some couldn't pop up and take pictures of her with glazed eyes to feed into the narrative being spun back in New York.

Understanding, Harry nodded his head, the green of his eyes softening as he allowed his gaze to slide across her features. "Okay," he said, "We can do that. I'll keep an eye on you, but if y'change your mind, that's okay, too. Whatever is going to make you happy tonight."

Overhead the feminine French voice blinked over the intercom, arrival times appearing on the small screen at the head of the car. Harry looked over his shoulder taking in the printed times. As much as she teased him, he really was making progress in understanding the language, enough so that he was readily taking on the details of the night and keeping track of her.

Allowing her eyes to skip over the line of his profile. Dressed low-key as usual, dark colors to help him sink into the background, the softer tones of his skin were left to jump out. The brown shades of his hair made way for sun-dappled blonde strands to make their way through, highlighting the swirling curls. His eyes were bright and clear, framed by dark curling lashes. His skin was creamy and warm, a gentle tan from the summer sun being highlighted from the dotted freckles on his nose and the rosy flush on his cheeks.

"Thank you," she blurted.

"Hm?" Harry hummed, turning to face her once more, brows raised.

(Y/N) felt her skin heat as she processed her action. She hadn't meant to say anything.

"Thank you," she repeated, "For doing all of this. Helping."

"It's m'job," he answered simply.

That was a fact (Y/N) couldn't forget, that thin veil between being a constant barrier. "I know, but," she swallowed, feeling a bit silly now knowing that he noticed that line just as much as she did, "It's just a nice feeling—like you care, and all."

The contact he made with her gaze was easy and open, unwavering. "It's because I do care."

Just then, as convenient as ever, their arrival was announced. The train slowed to a stop, passengers readying to exit the car.

Letting go of the rail, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon," he murmured, keeping her close as he guided them into the fray of the moving passengers.

(Y/N) followed absently wherever he needed, her heels hitting the ground in quiet clicks. She wasn't sure what the squeeze in her lungs and stuttering in her chest meant, but feeling Harry at her side made it that much more prevalent.

—————

Looking ahead, (Y/N) spotted the line leading up to Francesca's club of choice for the night. Waiting patrons were roping around the sidewalk, chattering with cigarettes in hand, impatient at the wait time. Even from where they were, out on the sidewalk leading up to the bouncing building, pumping music could be heard. (She's ninety-eight percent sure it was a Dua Lipa song, but she couldn't hear it exactly).

Harnessed in neon pink tubes was the name of the club: Rêve.

At her side, Harry ignored the end of the line, taking her to the front just as Fran had instructed.

A burly bouncer sized them up, already doubting them after they cut the wait. (Y/N) offered her tabloid bunny smile, Harry the structured pillar at her side.

"Salut! Nous sommes ici pour rencontrer des amis sur un stand VIP, l'un d'entre eux ayant réservé pour la nuit," she chattered, keeping her eye contact with the bouncer.

The bouncer didn't look entirely impressed as he listened. His gaze inched from hers to land on Harry. "Nom?"

"Francesca Polair—nous sommes deux de ses invités."

The bouncer's eyes tripped down her form, taking in her shimmery dress and lengths of skin on display. "Pièce d'identité?"

While she reached for her small bag with her ID inside, the bouncer unclipped a small tablet that was hung from his belt. Handing over her passport, she watched as he squinted at the American identification. Nonetheless, her name inevitably matched that of what was on Fran's guest list.

"Vous êtes prêt à entrer. Est-il avec toi?" He asked, eyeing up Harry at her side.

"Oui, cela devrait également figurer sur la liste. Harry Styles."

This time the bouncer didn't properly look at the tablet, instead, taking her word for it though he still shot Harry a suspicious look with the way he lingered at her side.

Holding open the door, he nodding at (Y/N) to push past. "Les tribunes sont au fond, derrière la piste de danse."

"Merci," she murmured, stepping past him with Harry just a step behind.

Inside, the bass of the music that could be heard outside was that much louder, lyrics in French that were too loud for her to focus on enough to translate in her head. The space was dark, leaving only strobing beams of multicolored lights to throb through the club, the only stable beacons being that of the bars lining some of the walls.

Concentrations of people were found on the dance floor and the bars, leaving walkways in between to travel through. Staff and bottleservice workers traipsed through, fluorescent drinks with herbs perched on the rims were stationed on trays next to full bottles of sparkling liquor and beers that probably had no business being as expensive as they were.

The VIP section was a straight shot down to the back, easy to spot given the second bouncer manning the entrance and the stream of bottle service staff making their way there. Harry reminded her of his presence with a hand hovering on the small of her back, over the glittering fabric of her dress.

"Alright?" he asked, dipping down close to her ear in order for her to hear.

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head with stray baby hairs tickling the borders of her face, "We just need to get back there to Fran and Emma."

Harry followed her line of sight towards the booths lining the back. In that way he always did, a reflex that had to have come from years in his line of work, he took inventory of the path to the back, noting the bodies in the way and the easiest route back.

"Okay," he murmured, looking determined when he positioned himself in front of her with his fingers looping around her wrist.

He took the lead then, ensuring her path was clear as she stepped behind him. She couldn't hear if he was speaking over the sound of the music, but she wondered if he was muttering something to those around them that had them parting, no one able to even brush against her as she slipped through the crowd. She could feel eyes landing on her back as she stepped through, but no one stopped her, no one raised a camera at the spectacle.

Before they could even reach the bouncer, a pitched scream that careened over the pumping music had (Y/N)'s eyes snapping up the raised level that the booths were situated on. Glowing like a mermaid with big waves in her hair and slinky blue dress adorning her body was Francesca, bright smile that much whiter under the lights as she spotted her best friend. The almost empty drink in her hand was perfect evidence of just how she was able to pitch her voice so high.

"(Y/N)!" she bubbled, racing out of her chosen booth on Bambi legs, "You're here! I missed you so much—come here, come here!"

She all but pushed the bouncer aside as she met them at the entrance to the section, the top of the small trio of stairs being where she stopped. The bouncer didn't stop them as Harry pulled her into the safety of the VIP area. Francesca barely glanced at her bodyguard before she had (Y/N) wrapped up in a hug, her glass precariously teetering on her shoulder.

"Emma brought Stavros so she's been all over him," Francesca whined, "I was scared you were going to leave me with her."

"I told you I was on my way," (Y/N) giggled, peeking through the fluff that was Fran's hair to spy Harry standing off to the side in wait of her. She shot him a look, widened eyes with a quiet smile as if to let him in on the inside joke that was her friend's drunken blubbers.

"I know, but I forgot. It doesn't matter, though, everything's okay now," Francesca rushed out, pulling away from the hug to pull (Y/N) towards the chosen booth for the night. Suddenly, she seemed to finally notice Harry was there as well, despite the fact that he had been the one leading her into the section in the first place. "Harry! Hi," she bubbled, waving at him with her drink in hand.

"Hi, Francesca," he said, giving her a nod in greeting before his eyes met (Y/N)'s. It was his turn to give her a small look, their own moment of amusement over her.

"Are you partying with us tonight?" she asked, eyes bright at the idea of Harry joining in on the fun.

Harry shook his head, features schooled away from that quiet look he shared with (Y/N). "Not tonight—'m on duty."

"That's a bummer," Fran pouted. Turning towards (Y/N), she seemingly forgot what had her bummed in the first place, instead replacing her sullen pout with a mischievous smile. "But, are you ready for a drink? We have a couple bottles at the table if you want to do shots!"

Before (Y/N) had a chance to properly answer, Fran led them to the secluded booth off to the corner of the roped off section. There, Emma and Stavros were canoodling away in the padded corner just as Francesca had complained, Emma with her hand sitting on the bare section of chest her boyfriend had on display with his barely buttoned shirt. He looked a little too satisfied with her attention, the way he was sinking into the leather booth and spreading his legs as if inviting Emma further. (Y/N) couldn't blame Fran for panicking at the idea of being left alone with the lovebirds for the night. As happy as they were for lovestruck Emma, the public intimacy was a bit much.

True to her word, on the round table in the middle of the half-moon booth were two bottles of expensive liquor. Tiny shot glasses were standing in a stack by the bottles, a pair already having been used.

Just as Francesca moved to pour (Y/N) one of her own small glasses, she was stopped with a hand on her arm. "I don't want to do too much tonight, Fran," she told her in her ear, hoping she could hear her over the music, "I have pilates in the morning, then I was going to hunt for a new nail studio."

"Oh!" Fran chirped, the remains of her drink sloshing in her glass, "Why didn't you say so? We'll just get you a vodka soda then, so you stay hydrated."

Before (Y/N) could even laugh at her friend's well-intentioned solution, Francesca was already flagging down one of the bottle service workers to place another order. (Y/N) didn't try to stop her, more than willing of this to be her drink of choice for the night instead of a round of shots.

Emma, suddenly breaking out of her love bubble, noticed (Y/N) for the first time despite having been standing by their table for a handful of minutes now. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, eyes glazed and lips puffy, "Look, Stavros, (Y/N)'s here!"

"Hi Emma," (Y/N) greeted, reaching across the table to give her a short hug, "Hi Stavros."

"(Y/N)?" Stavros repeated back to Emma, a confused pinch between his brows.

"You met her at the Gala, remember?" she answered, attempting to jog his memory, "She was in the pink dress with the little bag."

"Oh, yes!" Stavros perked up, looking to (Y/N) with recognition in his eyes, "The crying girl, yes?"

Underneath her skin, (Y/N)'s blood simmered with embarrassment. With Harry being the only person she'd been around since leaving New York, and Francesca being well aware of how unnecessary that night was to bring up, no one had brought up the Gala and the contents of the night to her face. She knew that was what many people in attendance were going to remember her for, but she didn't think it would be so blatantly broadcasted to her face.

Emma shifted her gaze to (Y/N), most likely knowing through Francesca that the Gala was a topic that was off limits for the time being. The silence between the trio lasted a beat too long for (Y/N)'s comfort. She swallowed down that prickling embarrassment, instead giving a smile.

"That was me," she laughed it off, "Hopefully I'll stay out of trouble tonight."

That seemed to be enough to quell the lovebirds' nerves, allowing Emma to smile and laugh along while Stavros gave a peal of laughter that was too enthused for (Y/N) to believe he actually understood what she said. Nonetheless, the awkward beat had been extinguished and now only lived in (Y/N)'s head for the time being. At least no one else was listening, Francesca too busy with her ordering and Harry just a few too many feet away to catch specific conversations.

"How have you been, (Y/N)? I've barely been able to talk to you since you left," Emma started up, leaning forward to give (Y/N) all of her attention.

Though she was sure it was a way to fill in the gaps of the conversation and pave over the bump Stavros left in the night, (Y/N) was grateful for the change in subject, recounting her time in the city. Francesca eventually settled in beside her in the booth, giving her own commentary on the things (Y/N) had already shared with her over dinner. Harry was stationed a few feet away, allowing her some space and privacy for the night though she could still feel his eyes landing on her every now and then as she gesticulated through the story of their day of sightseeing.

Soon enough, drinks arrived at the table along with a wish for their group to have a fun night. Her vodka soda bubbled in hand, the first sips holding the aroma of the rosemary sprig that was lanced through the cubes of ice. Francesca and Emma on the other hand downed a pair of shots while Stavros cheered on his girlfriend.

By the time the burn had left Francesca's throat and she unclenched her eyes, (Y/N) had only made it through a couple of short pulls of her light drink. Francesca looked at her with bright eyes, the strobes from the dance floor tinting them a vibrant blue.

"Let's go dance, c'mon!" she bubbled, already standing on her wobbling legs before she finished speaking.

Peeking around her, she found the dance floor crowded but nowhere near packed in the way some of the spots in New York could get at this hour. The music was good enough, and she didn't plan on wasting her first night out with friends over a throw away comment from Emma's boyfriend and the fear that she might embarrass herself again.

Allowing Francesca to sweep her away, Emma and Stavros unsurprisingly staying back for a moment, (Y/N) found Harry's eyes for a moment. He looked at her with that solid eye contact he never wavered on when it came to her. A slight pinch lingered between his brows.

She shot him a small smile and a single nod.

She was going to have a good night. Harry didn't need to worry.

—————

"I love this song!"

(Y/N) let out an easy, boisterous laugh at Francesca's bubbling comment, throwing her head back with her eyes closed. Did she even know this song? Given the fact Fran's French was nowhere near as refined as (Y/N)'s, there was a high chance she didn't understand a single syllable pumping through the speakers. Nonetheless, (Y/N) kept dancing along with her friend, hands twisting high above her head with her hips swaying.

More than one drink had passed through her hands, a couple passed the limit she set for herself at the start of the night. She would be fine, though, she was sure. She was barely even tipsy, she thought. The Cosmo in her hand was slick against her palm, having replaced the vodka soda she started with.

Across from her Francesca was having the time of her life with Emma and Stavros rounding out their group. Harry was somewhere in the distance, keeping an eye on her. More than once, he checked in from across the room, even sending for another drink for her when he heard her complaining of needing another. He treaded around her carefully, ensuring he didn't infringe on her night while doing his job to the best of his ability.

At the top of the night, she noticed a few eyes on her, some whispering with those wandering eyes landing on her a few too many times. Though she would love to assume they were only speaking of her dress or sharing comments about the state of her dancing, her years in the light pushed her to speculate these were people who recognized her. As more drinks started flowing, her inhibition for the night waning, she let it go when she caught glimpses of phone cameras trained in her direction, a few people even daring to make their way closer to her on the dance floor.

Harry kept a careful eye on the situation, watching her movements and keeping track of those around her. (Y/N) was sure a few of the times he stepped in to grab her another drink or check in on her, it was nothing short of a tactic to separate her from the others on the floor, reminding them that she wasn't a gazelle to be preyed on.

Suddenly, a pair of hands slid around her waist. She jumped in her skin for a moment, her heated skin erupting in goosebumps. Though her dancing lagged for just a moment, she honestly didn't really care about the touch. With her eyes closed, and head trained towards the sky, she halfway figured it was Emma who was dancing with her, having abandoned her boyfriend to cuddle up for a moment.

Until she heard Emma's tittering laugh from a space away. In front of her.

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) took stock of those around her. Emma was stretching up to her tiptoes as she sealed her lips to Stavros', her hands locked in his hair, only pulling away when he whispered something to her that made her laugh. Francesca was off to the side of her, making moony eyes at an unfamiliar man in front of her, there chattering silent under the thrumming music. On her waist was the hand of someone she didn't know.

Stumbling in her spot, she tried to whirl around in an attempt to see who exactly it was that was behind her. The hand on her waist tightened, steadying her as he leaned down with his mouth by her ear.

"Sorry, chérie," an accented voice said over her shoulder, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Unable to help the peal of laughter that fell from her lips, (Y/N) realized something just then.

She was drunk.

In a different moment, with a different drink in her hand (probably water), she wouldn't have been quite so welcoming to having someone touch her and use a pet name so casually.

Instead, she didn't really mind. She could only laugh and hang onto his hand, keeping herself steady as she tipped her head backwards to see him.

"It's okay," she slurred, "I just wasn't expecting that." Blue eyes stared back at her, topped by black brows. He smelled like smoke and vodka Red Bulls. "Who are you?"

The man laughed at her blunt question, the sound mixing with the music. "I am Marc," he told her, eyes shifting over her head to where Francesca was standing, "And that's my friend, Alain. We thought you and your friend were beautiful, so we wanted to introduce ourselves."

"Oh, okay," she sounded, matching his line of sight a little too quickly with her hair fluttered around her face. Much more stable on her feet again, she spun on her heels, facing her mystery man—Marc—properly. "Nice to meet you," she bubbled, taking an absent sip from her drink, "I'm (Y/N)."

Dipping down, Marc pressed a swift kiss to the soft of her cheek. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I've been having to work up the courage to come talk to you since I first came in here."

While in the back of her muddled mind, (Y/N) knew well that he was feeding her nothing but lines, she wasn't sure if she cared. There had been enough times she had been seduced by a French accent and enough wine to know that this was just one of those things. French men were much more romantic in her experiences, their lines matching the intimacy they were seeking from her.

Was it such a bad thing to revel in the niceties, though? The last time someone had openly flirted with her now ranked in the top five worst nights of her life, so it felt a little more than nice to have someone piling compliments and cushioned flirting. Was it such a bad thing to indulge herself? To soak in a second of outside validation?

Though the standard wasn't that high, at least he wasn't grabbing her face and demeaning her.

Letting her hesitations go, drifting to the back of her mind with the help of the alcohol train running off the tracks, she leaned towards him with a giggling smile. "Well, I'm happy you did," she beamed, her eyes hooded.

Taking another pull of her drink, her straw hit the bottom with only ice clinking against the glass. She almost wanted to whine at the sight. She had been hoping for more.

"Do you want me to get you another?" Marc asked, nodding towards her drink when she looked up at him.

"Um, hold on," she told him, already craning her neck to look around him in hopes of spotting someone else.

(Y/N) scanned the blur of bodies for Harry. It didn't take long to see the only sober person in the crowd, his gaze sharp and commanding through the strobing lights. He stood off the dance floor with his arms across his chest. Raising his brows, he matched her gaze. Canting her head, she raised her glass over her head as if that was enough of an explanation.

Harry gave her a small nod before she was looking back at her new friend.

"One of my friends has been getting me drinks tonight, actually. So, thanks, but I've got it." A hiccup punctuated her words.

Marc looked over his shoulder, surely spotting Harry who was making his way through the crowd to her. "You said he's your friend?"

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) sounded, wanting to see Harry herself but instead opting to sway to the sound of the music. He'd be here soon enough. "He's technically my bodyguard, but he's my friend.

"Bodyguard?" Marc repeated, looking back towards (Y/N).

Even though her vodka-soaked thought process, she noted the way he didn't seem too put off by the fact she had any kind of security detail. Maybe, that was that French disposition—the inability to care that much—but that wasn't something she was able to think about for very long.

"Uh-huh," she answered nonetheless, a hiccup making her pause, "It's a long story. I'm from New York, and there's been a lot of stuff going on, so, yeah, he's my bodyguard."

Speak of the devil, Harry popped in then, having elbowed his way through to stand at (Y/N)'s side. He didn't pay Marc a single moment of attention, looking only to her with his secure gaze.

"Y'want another, or water?"

While she couldn't deny she was reveling under Marc's attention, it was also very clear to herself how much she preferred Harry's eyes on her opposed to her new companion. There were sparks of relief upon seeing him within touching distance again, knowing that he was right there. If there was anything she needed, he was there now to remedy her situation. She knew he was taking note of everything, uncaring of whether or not her makeup was intact, assuring that she was safe and taken care of.

But, Marc actually called her pretty. He won for the night, (Y/N) decided.

"I think I want another, but then I want water," she shouted over the music, giving Harry her glass for him to discard at the bar.

Raising a dark brow, Harry gave her that amused look. "That's what y'said last time."

She laughed easily at his prodding, her grin stretching wide over her lips and head dropping backwards. "I know," she sang, "But I mean it this time."

"Whatever you say," he teased, "But I'll get you another. Jus' stay right here and wait for me."

"Merci," she crooned to him, suddenly remembering Marc's presence when he squeezed at her waist.

Before (Y/N) could offer for Harry to grab Marc a drink while he was at the bar as well, Harry was already off. He made a quick detour, checking on her friends then sinking into the thick of the crowd once more.

She hadn't even known she was watching the space he disappeared into until Marc snaked his hand up the line of her spine, palm flat against her back as he pushed her into him. (Y/N) turned her attention to him, mouth in a small gape as he matched her gaze head-on. His eyes were a lot icier than she remembered.

"Do you maybe want to go sit down for a second somewhere?" he asked, dipping down to press his cheek against hers with his lips by her ear, "It's hard to hear you out here."

"In a second," she answered, hiccuping against his chest, "I need to wait for him."

"You have a booth for the night, though, right? Up in the VIP section?" he pressed, seemingly not catching her caveat in sneaking away.

"I-I do, but Harry—my drink."

"I'm sure he'll be able to find you up there, don't worry," Marc insisted, herding (Y/N) off the dance floor and towards the sectioned off dais.

Though her footing wasn't the most stable at the moment, (Y/N) still attempted to dig her heels in and stay put. Harry told her to stay here. She had promised him she would keep his job easy while in Paris, and she knew that sneaking off wasn't something that would abide by that promise.

Out of nowhere, Francesca's hand clasped around her shoulder. In her other hand was Marc's friend's arm, her eyes hooded and glazed.

"Let's go up to the booth," she drawled, words a little slurred.

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) asked, the slightly more sober of the duo, "Harry is supposed to come back over here; he told me to wait."

Francesca shook her head with her fluff of styled hair. "He'll"—hic—"He'll be able to find you. It's okay."

It wouldn't be so bad if Francesca and Emma were up there with her. Harry wasn't stupid either, the next place he would look after the dance floor would have to be the booth, right? it would be okay.

Giving a nod to Fran, (Y/N) allowed her to lead their small group towards the VIP area, Marc and his friend happily intermingling with the group and Emma and Stavros bringing up the rear.

Despite her hesitancy, she did feel a bit better by the time she scaled the small set of stairs. She was nowhere near sober and the music wasn't much quieter than down on the floor, but at least here she wasn't stuffed between bodies. She could open her eyes and see stretches of the floor, her body touching non-humid air again.

She was happy to see the booth once more, grateful to take a seat and get the pressure off her feet and the heels she had strapped around her ankles. Though Marc didn't slide in beside her like she expected. Instead, stood at the head of the table and lent down to speak to her.

"I have a couple of other friends I brought tonight. Do you mind if I go get them? I'm their ride so I don't want them to worry," he told her, looking innocently with icy blue eyes.

"Friends?" (Y/N) asked, unsure if it was the alcohol or the outlandish request that wasn't computing.

"Yeah, just a few. They're down there," Marc recited, casting a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay?"

With that, he was heading back down the entrance of the VIP area, leaving (Y/N) and the girls behind.

Fran, little black straw in her mouth with water finally having been poured in her glass, lent across the booth, gently touching (Y/N)'s shoulder. When she turned, she caught the woozy smile on Francesca's face.

"Your guy is really cute," she said, her words dissolving into laughter.

"Yeah," (Y/N) answered absently, "But, did yours tell you that they're bringing friends over here?"

"Yeah," Fran simply repeated, taking another long sip of her water.

While it didn't particularly soothe her that Francesca didn't seem to care about the new uninvited guests, she figured there wasn't much else she could glean about her thoughts while in her drunken state. Instead, she let Francesca insert herself into Emma and Stavros' conversation, while (Y/N) searched for Harry. Soon enough, she spotted him approaching the dais, pink drink in hand and water in the other. There was a particularly stern set in his jaw, clearly disappointed.

Coming to the booth, he ducked down to place the duo of drinks in front of her, the water closer to the foreground. He looked at her through the fan of his lashes, lips a stern line as he lent across to talk to her.

"I thought y'were going to wait for me down there," he told her, lips by her ear.

"Um, yeah," she responded, dropping her gaze to the cranberry juice heavy Cosmopolitan she ordered, "That guy—my friend—, he said he wanted to talk to me here so it was a little bit quieter. But, now he's getting some friends he said he didn't want to leave behind."

(Y/N) didn't have to see Harry to know he was particularly unimpressed with this new information. "He said he's bringing friends? To come and sit up here with you?"

"Yeah," she told him, voice small with a nod of her head.

The more she said it out loud, the less and less of a good idea it sounded to her ears.

"Okay," he sighed, pulling away to match her eye contact head-on, "'M going to be right there, then." Behind him, he pointed at the glass railing that reinforced the boundaries of the VIP section, a good place for him to take up post and keep an eye on her. "Make sure y'stay with Emma and Francesca, okay? Don't let them get separated from you. Remember what we talked about that I need you to do if you're uncomfortable."

Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded her head, looking at him with wide eyes. Though the scene around him blurred a little too much, vodka-tinted vision, she made sure she locked eyes with him. "Okay. I remember."

That seemed to quell him enough, though that set in his jaw never loosened. "Good. I'll be right there, just grab me if y'need me."

With Harry blending into his post, his eyes unwavering on her form, (Y/N) attempted to settle herself with sips of her water. Soon enough, a larger group of people infiltrated the VIP section, their access to get through having been the fact two of the members had been previously seen with (Y/N) and Francesca.

The group of friends looked a lot different than what (Y/N) had expected. Two more men had joined the fray, along with three women. The entire friend group being that of seven people, adding into the group of four that were (Y/N) and her friends.

"Thanks for letting me bring them up here," Marc said, sly smile on his lips when he slipped into the booth beside (Y/N), "They really wanted to meet you guys."

"Y-Yeah, of course," she stuttered out, though Marc clearly stopped listening before she even started.

His eyes wandered to one of the women he brought up, watching as she flagged down a bottle service worker. (Y/N) could hear her rattling off orders in French, pointing back at Francesca and (Y/N) settled into the booth. While she was busy, the others had descended upon the liquor already on the table, draining the bottles.

"What's wrong?" Marc asked, voice a tad too sweet. As if he didn't have a single idea of what she could be bothered by.

"There's just a lot of people," (Y/N) answered, clutching her glass of water tight. If she had the attention to spare, she would have looked towards Francesca for assistance, to see if she was the only one thrown off. But there was too much happening, and she couldn't even see Harry through the new mass forming in their booth.

Marc waved her off carelessly, "Don't worry about them. Just have fun, chérie. The night is still young."

Around her, she saw the maelstrom that had begun. Drinks were flowing, Francesca happily distracted with Alain, Emma and Stavros in their bubble, and a few of the new additions to the table pairing off with affectionate hands. There was only one woman left—the one that had initially flagged down the bottle service worker—who was carefully watching Marc at (Y/N)'s side.

Everyone was having fun, she figured. The two bottles they had on their table had been drained with Francesca a moment away from catching her man for the night in a kiss. Even the woman with eyes on Marc was swaying to the music, empty shot glasses in front of her.

(Y/N) did want to have fun.

"C'mon, dance with me," Marc persuaded, standing up with his hand held out for her to take.

After a beat of hesitation, (Y/N) took his offered hand and joined him, paying enough attention to the music above to let everything go just a hair. With Marc egging her on, a hand landing on her waist, she swayed along to the beat, hanging more fun the less she thought.

It wasn't until she took a sip of her water that Marc interrupted her.

"No, have fun, chérie," he pressed, taking the water out of her hand and reaching for the abandoned Cosmopolitan.

"I don't know," (Y/N) started, intending to reject the drink until it was shoved into her hand.

"Don't be boring, chérie," Marc chided, as if he were close enough to her to tease, "Don't let it go to waste, at least."

While it wasn't solid logic considering (Y/N) was the one paying for her drink, it was enough of a persuasion to work on her muddled brain. She pliantly fit the thin black straw between her lips, allowing herself to drift into the moment. It wasn't so bad, she decided. The extra people weren't so bad in their sanctioned area. It didn't even bother her that much when three more bottles were delivered to the table, sparklers and all with a procession of excited staff fueling the fire.

"I told them it was alright to order some bottles for the table," Marc sounded over the music, looping an arm around her shoulders to press her to his chest, "I can pay you back though if you want, I just kind of figured it would be okay since you're from New York and all."

Looking to the table, she saw as the rest of his friends swarmed the table, Alain even abandoning Francesca to join in the rounds of shots. (Y/N)'s name wasn't even officially on the table, but they'd still managed to put things on her tab.

Floundering over her response, (Y/N) could feel her mouth gape before closing once more. In this moment, more than anything she wished she hadn't drank so much. This wouldn't be much of a struggle if she could manage to focus or not dredge through miles of muddy tracks in her head. It was easier to let things go at the moment instead of allowing the bubbling blow up that would have transpired earlier in the night.

"Um—Just, don't order too much," (Y/N) conditioned, her brows coming together in a loose pinch.

"It'll be alright," he assured her, that arm around her shoulders tightening to get her eyes back on him, "C'mon let's finish our drinks."

Marc's free hand came up to urge her drink up to her mouth. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, contemplating for a split second. While it was annoying, the extra bottles ordered in her name at the table, but it wasn't so bad. The night was going fine enough, and Marc was nice. She didn't want to ruin anything or make any kind of scene in the middle of the club. Harry's eyes were no doubt trained on her.

Even with her father countries away at the moment, she was sure he'd find a way to punish her accordingly if Harry had to report anything unpleasant back.

Pliantly, (Y/N) pulled the thin black straw between her lips, taking down her Cosmopolitan.

—————

Unsure of how she got here, (Y/N) couldn't help but to stare wide eyed at Marc and his—surprisingly enough—girlfriend dancing on the table.

At least she assumed that was his girlfriend, with the way his tongue was down her throat and hand was on her ass.

Honestly, she couldn't be that surprised, considering this woman was the same one that had been staring possessively the whole time Marc was interacting with her. But, how they ended up on the table, dancing to some French song she was not sober enough to understand, (Y/N) did not know.

Around the table, the rest of that friend group had grown just as rowdy. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks, the waitstaff offering dirty looks from the amount of times one of the couples had attempted to smoke, and the neighboring tables were beginning to lose patience with their chaos.

Francesca was definitely out of her head for the night, every sip of alcohol definitely hitting her system heavily. While she may have had qualms with the etiquette of their unwanted guests if she were sober, she definitely didn't with the way she was willing to ignore as much in favor of dancing and playing with Emma when she wasn't busy with Stavros. Emma's boyfriend, being the most sober of the group, was less than impressed, whispering something into Emma's ear that (Y/N) hoped was a game plan to get out of here.

Searching through the mass that had been created around the table, (Y/N) tried to spot Harry. She wanted to get out of here. There was no reasoning with the way these people were behaving, and she wanted to get out of here before she was pushed too far.

Suddenly, a strong hand landed on her shoulder. Turning on her heel, she startled at the touch.

Harry stood behind her, his jaw set and brows in a furrow. Dipping his head down, he told her, "We need to leave."

Even with her head swimming, (Y/N) jerkily nodded her head. "I don't want to be here anymore," she answered, "Th-They're being crazy."

"Yeah." His answer was simple and stern, flicking his gaze up to the couple dancing on the table. His eyes blazed at the sight of Marc, definitely having played with (Y/N) through the night to get up to this section. "C'mon," he prompted, using his hand on her shoulder to help guide her through the booth before meeting him on the other side.

Despite her drunken legs, she dug her heels in. "But, Fran and Emma."

"I'll call them a car, we jus' need to leave before this gets any more out of hand. Tell them we're leaving."

Nodding, Harry let go of her before she tried to swim across to catch Francesca. Even when she grabbed her hand, Fran kept dancing, on a different planet that kept her eyes plugged and head drowning.

"Francesca!" (Y/N) shouted, trying to be heard over the music.

"(Y/N)!" she answered, barely glancing at her with a flip of her hair before she was dancing on an odd rhythm.

Attempting to catch her attention once more, (Y/N) was stopped as Marc leaned down, his lips swollen and eyes glazed.

"You're not leaving, right?" he yelled over the music, his words watery and slurred, "You're supposed to stay and party with us, New York!"

(Y/N) stammered over an answer. "I—um—"

"We've seen those pictures of you, we know you like to have a good time! You can't leave yet!"

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, part of her chest felt a little too tight. Of course, they knew who she was. Of course, they'd seen photos of her.

"I'm sorry, I don't feel good," she responded, uncaring if he could hear her over the music anymore.

Something shifted in Marc, then. His features morphed almost before her eyes, his eyes darkening and brows tightening. "How are we supposed to pay for all of this, if you aren't here?!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying here," she affirmed, shaking her head, "I'm grabbing my friends and—"

"Wow," he spat, cutting her off, "You really are a bitch—just like everyone says,"

Stepping up behind her, Harry placed a stern hand on Marc's chest, pushing him out of (Y/N)'s space.

"Back off, unless y'would prefer to have a problem," he started, his rough voice heavy over the music. Marc teetered off balance, the woman at his side having to steady him as he looked at Harry with offended eyes.

"Who a—"

"We're leaving," Harry cemented, ignoring whatever Marc was going to try to say, "You are going to find a way to pay for all of this, or you'll be hearing from me again. You're not going to be taking advantage of her."

There was no room left for Marc to argue before Harry wrangled up the girls, Stavros helping to guide both Fran and Emma out of the booth.

"C'mere," Harry said, offering (Y/N) his hand to help her climb over the back of the booth.

She happily took his hand, carefully stepping over the faux-leather with Harry grabbing her waist to help her over the structure. Tottering on her heels for just a moment, Harry didn't linger for very long before he was rushing her out of the VIP section. She could feel dirty looks on her back from the staff, but she didn't care at the moment.

Instead, she clung to Harry as they caught up to Francesca and Emma, Stavros heading their line on his much steadier feet. The closer they ventured to the exit, the more and more drunk she felt. The more removed she became from the pumping music and the other alcohol-soaked bodies, the more the real world was not suited to her current state.

"Careful," Harry murmured in her ear, righting her from a stumble she hadn't realized she made. Slipping an arm around her waist, he curled his hand around her hip.

"Sorry, sorry," she answered, fixing her gaze on her feet in hopes of staying cautious like he asked. Absently, she grabbed his hand on her hip, laying her palm against the top of hand with her fingers curling in-between the gaps of his.

Harry pulsed his hand, both her hip and fingers cradled in his hold.

Stavros pushed the exit door open for everyone to follow, the first light of the outside world glimmering into the otherwise dark club. Even with the alcohol muddling her thoughts, (Y/N) still caught the way Francesca stumbled back when she stepped out, her hands blindly reaching up to cover her eyes.

(Y/N)'s steps slowed, bright flashes pinging out on the sidewalk. Those people—the ones who stole their table and tacked (Y/N)'s name on the end of their bill—they wouldn't have posted about her, would they? While she might not be as hugely followed out here compared to New York, there were definitely international publications that enjoyed snapping her photo and selling it off.

Heading up the rear, Harry continued to pull her towards the exit, even when (Y/N) saw another round of flashbulbs go off when Emma made her appearance out on the concrete. Shouted questions in French could be heard, bubbling just over the sound of the music.

"Stay with me," Harry murmured to her, "There should be some cars waiting, jus' stay steady, (Y/N)."

She wanted to listen, she really did. But, the shuttering cameras and bright blinking bulbs was enough to get her hesitating just enough that she couldn't keep up. She didn't want to be seen like this, not after the way this night had turned out.

As attentive as Harry was, always observant, he was on a mission and that didn't include (Y/N) dragging while he tried to get her to a safe place.

As he tugged her over the threshold of the door, Stavros still holding it open, she stumbled against Harry's pulling, her heel catching just right. Flashes twinkled in her face, cameras blinking as photographs were taken of her stumbling outside, clinging to Harry with her breath caught in her throat. The toe of her pump dragged over the concrete, her lost balance weighing her down until Harry righted her, steadying his grip around her waist with his free hand reaching for her hip.

"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, suddenly breathless as he helped her back onto her feet.

"I'm okay," she told her, voice a peep under the bright attention.

Pressing questions were spewed in her direction, many asking who Harry was, why she was in Paris, and how drunk she was. (Y/N) ignored them all, focusing on following Harry who now led the group towards the waiting cars.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice low for her ears only, "I didn't mean to trip you."

(Y/N) shook her head. "It's okay," she assured him, eyes on her feet to calculate her steps, "I just want to go home."

"We will." Harry's simple answer was just that before he quickened his pace, allowing (Y/N) to keep up as they pushed through the throng of photographers waiting outside the club.

With Stavros heading up the back of their procession, many of the paparazzi were unable to follow any of the girls without getting through him first. As kind as he was, she could tell he used that Greek glare to his advantage, acting as if he couldn't believe they were following him while being an oblivious block in the road.

That extra distraction allowed Harry to lead the group somewhere safe, around the side of a building a little too narrow for anyone else to follow. Two black sedans were parked against the curb.

Without hesitation, Harry adjusted his grip on (Y/N), practically hugging her to his chest. She curled into him, fitting her forehead against the column of his throat with her arms a bundle between them. Harry cradled her with his arms around her waist, keeping her safe with him after the chaos that erupted.

She could hear him speaking over her head to Emma and Stavros, ensuring they were going to take care of Francesca and that he had taken care of the fees of their reserved vehicle. She wanted to participate, tell Emma she was sorry for the night's turn and assure Stavros that every night (Y/N) was involved in didn't dissolve into a scrambled mess, but instead she kept herself warm against Harry's chest and let him do the talking for them. She would call Emma later she decided—maybe text her if her hangover didn't allow phone calls in the morning.

"That one's yours," Harry directed, (Y/N) noticing his words only when he unlinked an arm around her to point, "It was nice to meet you. Get home safe."

Stavros answered back in broken English while Emma was busy herding Francesca along with them. Muttered discussion could be heard with the driver of their vehicle before car doors were opens and slammed shut. The sound reverberated for a moment, before silence settled.

"Our turn?" (Y/N) asked, pulling away to look up at Harry holding her.

His lips were thin, eyes downturned as he gazed at her. "C'mon," he responded, loosening his hold in exchange for leading her towards the single waiting sedan

He took charge, speaking to the driver through the rolled down window, even if his French was less than stellar. Once all the details and verifications are figured out, Harry helped her in the backseat, pushing her in first before leaning in and helping her buckle up. While (Y/N) had anticipated that cushion of space to be between them as usual, he surprised her by sliding in right at her side, a long arm laying across the top of the seat behind her head.

Peeking through the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught the driver eyeing she and Harry, her brown eyes fluttering with recognition. (Y/N) curled into herself then, dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap while Harry's dropped to the cuff of her shoulder. In French, he reiterated the address of the penthouse when their driver didn't immediately pull away from the curb.

Once the road was under their tires, the sound of the gear shifting and setting them off away from the club, (Y/N) felt herself begin to relax. Even if their driver knew who she was, it was a less daunting experience than waiting outside of a paparazzi litter club while waitstaff inside were no doubt spinning rumors about her low class and patrons were spitting over the fact they had to foot the bill they ran up.

Casting her memory back to the front of the night was enough to exhaust her into slumping against Harry's shoulder.

"I want water," she blurted out, nestling into the divot between his shoulder and chest.

Harry pulsed his arm around her frame, keeping her warm against his chest. "I'll get y'some water as soon as we're back, yeah?"

"I want to take my makeup off, though," she mused, a pinch appearing between her brows though her eyes fluttered closed.

"We'll take your makeup off when we get back, yeah? First thing."

"I want food, too."

A breathy laugh disturbed where she was cuddled into him. "I'll get y'something to eat when we get back, yeah?"

Mulling it over for a lingering second, (Y/N) agreed with a nod of her head. "Yeah," she parroted, pleased enough with his operation.

The gentle motion of the turns and slow stops the car made was enough to settle (Y/N) into a light trance, her head filling with sleep-puffed clouds. She forced herself to stay awake, hoping the elapsed time was as long as it felt.

"I didn't get to say bye to the girls," (Y/N) said, hoping to keep herself awake enough for Harry to get her water, food, and her makeup off like he promised.

"I told them you'd call, or you can text them later," he explained, shifting over the leather of the seat.

"You don't think they're mad, right?" she pressed, voice quieter, "That I ruined everything with those guys?"

A pause of silence sat as the third passenger for a moment, heavy before Harry spoke. "Of course, they're not. 'S not your fault any of that happened—you're jus' too nice sometimes, that's all."

"No one's ever said that about me before." (Y/N) couldn't help the short smile that tickled the corners of her mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"That I'm too nice," she beamed, snuggling closer to Harry, "Usually it's the opposite."

Perfect timing came in the form of their cab stopping outside of the building, easy French words coming from the driver as she turned to talk to Harry. (Y/N) could vaguely hear him thanking her and sending payment off through his phone, before he was sliding across the leather with her in tow.

"Careful," he crooned, offering a hand as she followed in teetering steps.

(Y/N) laced their fingers together without a second thought. Harry solidified the hold in a pulse of his fingers around hers.

She was a step behind him with a blinking flutter of her lashes, forcing her eyes to adjust to the world once more after being shuttered for the duration of the drive. The warm lighting of the building helped her find her footing in the real world, no longer neon like the club or fluorescent like the flashbulbs of cameras. Harry kept a steady grip on her hand, taking her to the leisurely paced elevator.

Staying stuck to his side, huddled into a single corner of the whole cubicle, soft music filled the space between them while (Y/N) recounted the night. While she definitely was not sober, stepping away from the high paced environments allowed her mind to iron out some of the details she didn't think twice about earlier.

"I don't like when people talk to me like that," she murmured, the number on the carousel just blinking past two.

"What do you mean?" The warmth of his gaze landed on the side of her face, his hand heavy in hers.

"That guy," she started, her breathing stuttering through the beginning of a hiccup she swallowed down, "The one at the club. He was mad that I wasn't going to be there to pay for what he and his friends ordered. I think he knew who I was even though he pretended he didn't. He called me a bitch." A beat passed. "I think that girl was his girlfriend, too—the one on the table with him."

Harry stood quietly at her side, the ever-sturdy pillar. He listened, observed. Took everything in, as he always did.

That silence stuck with them as the elevator chimed as they reached their floor. The doors parted for Harry to usher her through, taking her to the door before unlocking the knob and helping her forward. It wasn't until they were alone, in their private space, that he spoke again.

"I did hear him say those things," he murmured, his voice tight.

"It was mean, wasn't it?" she asked, kicking her shoes off by the front door, her toes aching after holding her weight for the night.

"It is," he affirmed, waiting for her to grow steady on her feet before he started towards the kitchen. True to his promise, he started with a glass of water for her, setting it on the counter before he was raiding the cabinets for a snack. He didn't look at her when he spoke again, keeping his attention forward. "You know none of that is true, though, right?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, sipping her water with her eyes trained on his back.

Returning with leftover gougères from the day before (Harry had become really fond of bisqué now that she showed him it didn't matter the season, soup was always a good choice), he set the cheese-baked pastries as her side before he leveled her gaze.

"No matter what he said,'' Harry started, his words slow and deliberate, "You're not a bitch,"—he all but choked around the word—"It's not up to you to pay for him and his idiot friends. He was trying to take advantage of you."

"I know," she swallowed, the words hitting a soft part of her muddled brain, "B-But now there's another person that thinks I'm bad."

"I don't think that, though," he said after a beat, his voice considerably softer, matching the moss of his eyes, "Fran and Emma don't think so—neither does Sully. We all know who y'actually are, and I think that counts for something."

Standing quietly, bare feet against the tile of the kitchen, (Y/N) allowed his words to swim in her brain. She soaked them in as much as she could, the weight of them heavy.

"You really don't think so?" she pressed, dropping her gaze to the collar of his fitted shirt, "Even after... everything, and all the stuff my father told you?"

Harry shook his head, a loose curl splaying across his forehead. "What your father says, means nothing to me. Everything I've seen, is y'trying your best. You're put in hard situations, and then expected to know how to handle them on your first try, all while everyone watches. It's not fair."

Overloaded, (Y/N) tried to cling to every word he was saying. She dearly hoped she would remember this in the morning, or at least the feeling of it all. The feeling of that light hope in her chest, brighter than that of whatever French bisqué she made or fanciful purchase could inspire.

Harry understood her.

"That's exactly how it feels sometimes," she confided in him, blindly reaching out in hopes of catching the hem of his shirt before he did her one better and bundled both of her hands in his own. "I love Fran, I do," she told him, letting his gaze with her own soft eyes, "But, she doesn't understand me like that—like you do."

"I wish more people understood you," Harry murmured, his words quiet enough (Y/N) wasn't sure if she heard him right.

"You're like my best friend, now," (Y/N) responded, hoping he could catch her sincerity even if she was a little plastered.

Those searching eyes traipsed around the planes of her face, skipping along every contour and highlight. She wished she knew what was going on in his head, what thought he had when he catalogued her like a fine gown.

"C'mon," he beckoned her, unlacing one hand from hers only to grab the plate of gougères, "Let's eat, then we'll get ready for bed."

(Y/N) pliantly followed, the Eiffel Tower glimmering through the windows of her balcony.

—————

Slipping out of her bedroom, (Y/N) cast her eyes around in hopes of finding Harry lounging about.

Last night was a whirlwind that ended with her snuggled in her bed, makeup off and hair braided back but still in her dress. She woke with a half eaten gougère on her bedside table, alongside a glass of water and a small bottle of aspirin. While parts of the night were muddied, many things were still clear—including the way Harry handled her and helped take care of her friends.

That also meant she remembered the small string of photographers that had waited outside the club, cameras flashing as she stumbled over her own feet.

Against her better judgement, she couldn't help but to check her phone after blinking the sleep out of her eyes, wanting to see what exactly—if anything—was being written by her.

The photos were the first things she saw, many of them favoring headlines featuring a specific shot of her clinging to Harry as she almost fell, the hem of her dress riding up and Harry's grip strong around her waist. The nature of their relationship was once again called into question, as if his hold was anything but protective. Some even captioned the photos of him whispering to her, apologizing for tripping her, as him whispering sweet nothings into her hair.

Honestly, many of the articles were on the tame side, the headlines being nothing more than clickbait. The worst they spoke on was her "leg-baring dress", while much more of the pieces were spent speculating about Harry once more and recounting the 132 Gala news.

She'd definitely seen worse about herself. While none of this was the preferred outcome, it was one she could get through. Hopefully, with the time zones, her father wouldn't see the news just yet.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she left her phone on her bed while venturing outside the suite. Instead of finding Harry like she hoped, she was instead left with a view of an empty apartment, a single glass of her purple smoothie left on the counter.

A smile bloomed on her fatigued cheeks when she noticed the dirtied blender in the sink, scraps of fruit having been tossed in the trash with a freshly wiped down countertop. Harry had to have made this one.

Maybe that was why it tasted that much sweeter when she took the first sip. Even without the matcha and collagen she usually requested, she felt much more awake.

Straw tucked between her lips as she sipped her smoothie, (Y/N) debated tracking down Harry to his bedroom, wishing so badly she could see him again in the right-frame of mind.

Those reassurances he uttered to her the night before were sitting in her head, perfect like a present waiting for her to wake up to. Perhaps that's what had made the sensationalized stories about her much more palatable. What did it matter what they and anonymous blogs said when Harry reiterated how many people in her life knew her and cared for her.

Turning back towards the living room, she spotted him through the crystal windows on the balcony doors, coffee in hand as he made a home in the lounger. She tried not to overthink it all as she crossed the room, gently knocking on the door before pushing it open.

"Morning," she murmured, stepping out onto the balcony with him.

Harry's posture straightened, his sleepy eyes gazing up at her through the shadow of his lashes. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

Taking a long sip of the smoothie, she hoped he caught the way almost a third of it was gone already. "Definitely been better. So much for not drinking, right?" she joked, taking a seat beside him in her own lounger.

"Y'weren't too bad," he answered, his own amusement leaking through his words. "Y'don't feel sick or anything?"

Turning her gaze towards the city, she watched the sun rise over the Eiffel Tower, remembering what it looked like with all the twinkle light just hours before.

"No, I'm alright. Thank you for getting me food and medicine and everything."

"Of course," he answered simply, taking a sip of his own coffee.

From the corner of his eye, his gaze lingered on the smoothie in her hand. The ghost of a dimple touched his cheek.

For the first time in a while, especially after everything she had read being posted about them—about him—, she didn't feel the need to explain or apologize.

Harry knew her. He knew her enough to know the difference between tabloid features and facts. Even knowing what would undoubtedly be said about him if he were pictured so closely with her—whether it be because of his job or the fact she felt she could call him a friend—he didn't shy away from holding her tight and making her feel safe in the midst of everything.

Instead of offering any kind words, (Y/N) scooted her chair that much closer to his, eyes on the Tower.

—————

"(Y/N), how many times do we have to talk about this?"

Without missing a beat, (Y/N) kept cleaning up the kitchen after having made lunch for she and Harry, her father's voice nothing more than dull background noise as she left the call on speaker. The mute feature was being utilized as he raged at her, not a second thought in her head being spared over his grilling.

It was a waste of time, she decided. That was the kind of mood she was in today, and that was the kind of daughter he would be getting. Though, to notice at all, would mean that he would have to actually pay attention and let her speak instead of spilling off rhetorical questions before hitting her with insults once.

It'd been a full day since the articles had been posted about her, more and more photos resurfacing of her stumbling outside and being led away with Harry, while blogs were posting grainy photos from the inside of the club before things went downhill. She knew a phone call like this was coming.

The only new addition to this particular berating, was the silent audience that was sitting on the couch.

Harry, leaning against the arm of the couch, had his arms crossed, one hand at his side in a heavy fist with the other cupping his chin, elbow bent to rest on his other wrist. His gaze was unfocused, a piece of flooring holding his attention while he listened to whatever it was that her father was serving up for the day.

From the way his features pinched and this fist as his side progressively tightened into a white-knuckled grip, she could only imagine the kind of things her father was sharing. He didn't even know there was an audience there to listen in, let alone that it was Harry. No filter was being applied as he spoke.

Wringing out her washcloth in the sink, (Y/N) tuned in just enough to hear a question that had her hands stuttering.

"Is Harry not enough for you?" her father asked, disappointment dripping from his tone, "Do I need to find someone else to look after you? Do you need a whole team to keep you in line?"

She rushed to pick up her phone, taking the call off speaker and mute as she pressed it to her ear.

"No, no," she interrupted him, uncaring of the snap that would be given back for cutting him off, "Harry's doing a good job, just... You know how I am."

Turning her back to Harry as she spoke, she attempted to find some kind of privacy as if she weren't the only one speaking in the room. He could hear every word—every plea she was about to make to ensure he kept his job with her.

While she took it as a positive that her father wasn't suggesting to replace Harry, she definitely didn't want anyone else added to the mix. Harry is more than enough for her.

On the other end, her father scoffed. "Don't I," he mused, (Y/N) able to imagine the rolling of his eyes through the phone. "I don't know what to do, (Y/N)," he started, heaving a sigh, "I've reached out to publicists and handlers, and anyone in the industry to help. No one wants to touch your reputation. It's preceded you at this point, no one wants to work with a brat. I don't have many options left."

Grateful for the fact her back was facing Harry, she felt a warmth hit under her skin. It was a humiliating thought—knowing that others all around her had spoken so lowly that even publicists that deemed any publicity as good publicity wouldn't touch her.

"I know," she conceded, swallowing around her dry throat, "But, I don't think any more security is a good idea. It would look bad, don't you think?"

She was grasping at straws a bit, hoping to dig into the image he held so dear. The one thing he cared about when it came to her.

A beat passed before he spoke once more, his voice distant and musing. "Now, you're thinking. I think I might have another idea, then."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I think I have an idea," her father perked on the other side, "Let me make a few calls and then I'll get back in touch."

"Okay, u—"

"In the meantime, (Y/N)," he cut her off, "I'm going to make it especially clear—again—that you need to have your head on straight. You're not making anything easy on anyone when you act like this—myself and Harry included. Stop being selfish and think before you act."

His tone was definite. Everything he said was nothing more than a slightly different variation of everything he'd already told her. She needed to try harder not to make everything her fault.

"I know," she answered, a detached response that had been drilled into her, "I'm working on it."

"Good. Talk to you later."

With that, before she had a chance to utter her own goodbye, her father hung up. Dead air filled the kitchen as she pulled her phone from her ear, slipping the device into her back pocket.

"What was that?" Harry asked, not waiting for her to face him before firing off.

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) turned to look at him, fiddling awkwardly in the middle of the small kitchen. "He said he wanted to get you more help—like, more security—, but I was able to get him off that idea. Now, he says he has another idea, but he won't tell me about it until he calls later. He said he had to talk to a few people first."

Unimpressed, Harry hummed in response. His gaze finally focused when it landed on her face, his pupils exacting and calculating. "Does he always talk to you like that?"

That wasn't what she expected of this inquisition. She suddenly felt uncomfortable under his eyes.

"Sometimes," she answered, trying to keep her features a blank slate, "Only when I mess up, though. It's not a big deal, I never listen anyway."

His gaze was unflinching, unwavering. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said automatically, no longer wanting to speak of her father or his words. "Anyway, I feel like he's just going to open a foundation in my name or something—that's his big idea. He does it every once in a while, just to make us all look charitable."

Harry traipsed his eyes over her form, taking in every detail of her body language and every minute frame of an expression. She felt exposed the longer he watched her.

Eventually—finally, finally—he released her, standing from his station on the arm of the couch with a sigh. "Whatever he comes up with, I'll be there, yeah? We'll work it out together."

Even Francesca, her best friend and closest person, hadn't been able to promise what Harry was giving her. She knew he really would be there with her, every step she took now coming with a pair.

(Y/N) allowed a gentle smile to bloom on her features, watching as he softened some.

"Yeah."

—————

Unable to help herself, still curious to the fact this person had found her Paris address, (Y/N) opened the flap to the newest letter that had been dropped in her mailbox.

The admirer's newest perspective came in high quality photos from the club. There were photos of her dancing with Marc—though his face was marred with markings she was too scared to investigate further. There were photos of her sipping drinks with Francesca and Emma before the night devolved, Harry noticeably cropped from the shots though (Y/N) knew he wouldn't have been that far away. Similar markings to what had marred Marc's face reappeared, this time sketching around her face in rudimentary hearts and shapes. Those made her feel the most queasy.

On the backside of some of the photos, it seemed this person felt they had inside information, claiming to know she hadn't wanted to dance with Marc. They apparently knew she hadn't wanted to go out at all, that she was much too private for this kind of scene and someone had to be forcing her to do this for some reason. It hadn't been her fault that she had stiffed the table (a fact that was far from the truth, seeing as how no one from the club had contacted her or Francesca. Something had to have been worked out). It hadn't been her fault that she left with Harry the way she did, curled into his arms and clinging to him like a vine. She would have never touched him if it was up to her own accord—at least that's what the admirer claimed.

Everything was written in short, messy sentences, barely legible as if written with the author's non-dominant hand. The rest of the story lay in the typed letter she knew was tucked inside the envelope, the musings of someone determined to fit her into the box of their liking.

Her palms felt sweaty as she looked at a photo of her face, the lens having zoomed in to catch the pucker of her lips around the cocktail straw, eyes glazed in alcohol.

How someone had snuck a camera in and Harry hadn't noticed—or at least mentioned it to her—she didn't know. And a part of her didn't want to.

It was easier to ignore this whole thing, she decided. Bundling the pictures back into the envelope, (Y/N) rushed to place it in her room, the bottom drawer of her vanity gaining a new addition.

—————

Staring at her phone, (Y/N) couldn't feel anything but dumbfounded as she reread her father's messages.

Dad

I have a friend from the country club that is interested in taking you out on a date. He's planning on flying out to Paris by the end of the week, and I expect you to go out to dinner with him, to show him and the world why a man like him would be willing to go out with you.

He's a successful philanthropist with a good reputation. I think he's the perfect person for you to get to know, and learn how to behave with. It will be good for you to be seen with him.

Be on your best behavior.

This was not at all what she could have ever imagined his big plan would be. More than a little far off from the suspected charity Gala that would be thrown in her name.

She'd been set up before with the sons of investors and introduced to men he thought would help further him in his dealings. All of those instances had been made in the name of his business—made for his best interests. Never had he set her up with the intention of strengthening her reputation or showcasing her for nothing other than publicity.

Though, from the way her father spoke, she doubted the other man knew it had anything to do with her reputation. As far as he knew, he was being set up with a friend's darling daughter for a romantic evening in Paris.

The thought had (Y/N) cringing.

She was supposed to go on a date? To convince people she wasn't a bitch?

(Y/N) was angry. Uncomfortable. Upset. Anything that was the opposite of happy was pulsing through her veins. What was her father thinking?

Did Harry know anything about this?

Heavy in her middle, (Y/N) wanted to rush to Harry's side, ask him if he knew anything about these plans. If he did, she wanted to assure him that she had no feelings tied to this man or this date—that he was nothing to her mind. She wanted to tell him she didn't want to go on this date, that she was being forced to see another person despite having purely opposite feelings.

She wasn't sure why exactly she felt it was so important to make that much clear, but it was enough to get her off of her bed and out to the living room.

Sitting on the couch, was Harry with a book in his hand, the cover showcasing the name of a famous French designer. He bookmarked his place with a finger as he looked up at her, taking in her shower-softened form and silky pajamas on her form.

"Going to bed?" he asked, the gauzy curtains having been dropped around the windows to the balconies.

Suddenly, she felt a bit silly having bustled out of her room the way she did. What did it matter if Harry thought she wanted to go on a date with this man? Why would he care about who she dated? All he needed to know was where she was going and if he would be needed for security.

"In a minute, but—um—" she started, fiddling with her phone in her hands.

Shifting on the cushion he'd taken up, he narrowed his gaze with a pinch to his brows. Properly marking his spot, he left his novel to be placed at his side, the full of his attention placed on his client.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" His gaze skipped over her form, examining for any bit of her that needed his help.

"I'm okay," she assured, shifting on her feet, "It's just..." Harry waited patiently-impatient, unwavering eye contact. "My dad texted me," she blurted.

"Yeah?" he pressed, his elbows setting on his knees as he leant towards her, "What did he say?"

Swallowing, she tried to shrug in nonchalance. "You know how he said he had an idea after those pictures of us at the club?" she questioned, listening for Harry's hum of acknowledgment before continuing, "I guess his side was to set me up with someone he knows from the country club. For a date. This weekend."

Forcing the words through her throat, she watched and waited for Harry's reaction. Though he was much better than she ever would be as keeping a poker face, everything internalized.

"Yeah?" was his only response.

"He said this guy has a really good reputation, with charities and all. He's hoping that being seen with him will help make me look better—PR and all." She struggled around the next bit of information, unwilling to say it out loud as if it would make it real. "I think he really wants me to date him, though—this friend. I don't think he knows my father's setting it up the way he is.

Contemplative and deliberate like always, Harry waited before pressing, "Do you know this man? Or would this be the first time you meet him—for this date?"

"I-I'm not sure who it is, but if I knew him already I think my father would have said so. I think this weekend would be the first time." She was more than embarrassed the more he asked. What kind of child had to be set up on playdates so they learned how to behave?

"This isn't the same man that made you uncomfortable before, then?" Harry's voice suddenly held an edge, recalling Barron at the 132 Gala.

"No, not him."

"Okay," he mused, the gears in his brain almost visibly grinding away as he thought through every and any scenario. "Do y'want me to be there with you?"

The edge of her phone case became the most interesting thing in the room then, her fingers picking at the molding. She swallowed, remembering that trapped, angry feeling she had when she read his messages the first time.

"I don't want to go at all," she started, fitting her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know, maybe we could go out this week, and I'll make a scene or something? It could make him mad enough that he calls the whole thing off, and we won't have to deal with it at all."

"No, we're not doing that," Harry immediately intervened, frustration lacing through his tone, "'S not worth him getting upset with you over."

"I know," she told him, a defeated slope to her shoulders, "But, I don't want to go. Especially not with him—whoever he is. I-I'd rather stay with you."

The air softened around them as the words hung between them. Peeking through the fan of her lashes, she caught the easy stare he gave her.

"It's going to be alright, (Y/N)," he assured her, his frustration having melted into something soft and pliable, "I'm going to be there with you."

"I'm sorry," she reflexively shared, her tongue working before her brain.

"What for?"

For going on a date with someone that isn't you.

"I don't know," she answered, "For taking up your weekend with something stupid, I guess."

"And what else would I have done instead?" Harry countered, his tone anything but biting, "Y'act like I'm not here jus' for you."

While she knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded, there was a small hand in her heart that clutched at the idea.

"Don't worry about it for now, yeah? Jus' sleep on it, and we'll take again in the morning. If there's anything else we can do, we'll figure it out then. Okay?"

He was always so in control, the voice of reason she lacked in these moments.

"Okay. Thank you."

"I've got you," Harry answered simply, reaching for his book once more. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

Sparing one last glance at her bodyguard huddled on the sofa of her Parisian apartment, fashion book in hand, (Y/N) inched towards her bedroom feeling a touch lighter.

"Goodnight, Harry."

—————

s'entendre is a French word for the feeling of understanding someone; to get someone

only a few more parts! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or whatever please send them in!

652 notes · View notes