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moonchildstyles · 8 months

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élan part four: wandering around Paris was just what y/n needed. and harry, of course.

wordcount: 11.2k+

—————

Foolishly, (Y/N) thought addressing Harry would make her less anxious to exist around him. She was proven wrong the next morning when she saw him emerging from the restroom and for her skin to feel a bit too warm. From his response, that furrowed brow and the fact that he didn't even seem to realize what she was trying to tell him flashed before her. That blank look in his gaze like he thought she was just as crazy as her father taunted her.

After that moment, before he spotted her, she slunk back into her room. The door shutting behind her sealed her away, the air settling around her.

That was a week ago, that first spot of him after that confrontation. Since then, with her door sealed closed, she had burrowed herself into the folds of her duvet and cushy mattress. Her pillows had been thrown askew, ruffled from her shifting in bed and tossing and turning during the hours she was able to sleep. The only times she trudged out of bed was to take a shower, or slink to the kitchen in the middle of the night for snacks. Her phone had been glued to her hand through her time, corresponding with Francesca while she refreshed her socials and news outlets as often as she could manage.

Luckily, the 132 Gala was set around the same time as a major music festival, pushing her mess to the back burner of the media rotation after a week. Unfortunately, the event wasn't close enough to have wiped everything about the Gala from people's memories or mouths.

The red carpet interview she gave had gone viral. Analyses of her body language, the way she looked at Harry, every tiny word she let out followed after. The most popular theory she'd seen was those assuming she was high on something while she was there, that would explain the jitters and the fact she couldn't calm down, apparently. Think pieces were posted, the vast majority citing her as the poster child for the "dark side" of the glamorous social scene. Edits were posted to video platforms, set to dramatic music as if this was supposed to be her third act low point in a film. The most traumatizing photo taken of her—her hair a mess, hand clinging to Harry's, her feet stumbling over one another with tears glittering over her face as she tried to get away—had been turned into a meme. She was nothing more than a caricature and a joke to anyone who had any idea who she was. At least the gossip from the festival was enough to push her out of the main publications, other appearances and performances garnering the public's attention for the time being.

In anonymous blogs, it appeared outsiders had caught on to the fact she was no longer in New York. It started when she wasn't pictured at any of the afterparties, more merit given when she was noticeably missing from group outings with Francesca and the rest of the girls, articles speculating that she was in "treatment" or hiding out from the consequences of her flip out.

Her least favorite thing was the articles popping up centering around Harry. Many dug into his background, looking into his job history, family, and small amount of social media presence he had. There was nothing to be found, nothing that could add any fuel, but that didn't stop the outlets from crafting something sensational enough to grab attention. The amount of headlines she'd seen, suggesting he was a jealous boyfriend after catching her with Barron, using a photo of him cradling her with his brow furrowed and jaw set was astounding.

In the week since she left the country and shut herself away, her father hadn't contacted her a single time. The last thing he said to her was that she was a crazy whore, just like her mother.

Tonight, she was doing much of the same as she had for the last week, eyes straining against her screen. If she were to peer over the top of her phone she would be able to spot the sparkling Eiffel Tower through her balcony.

Despite doing nothing all day everyday, her body was exhausted. There was more anxiety in her system than she ever thought she could handle. Her only hopeful thought was the reminder that there would undoubtedly be something that would happen to throw her sensationalized story through the window. Someone would do something that would be more interesting, fresher, more exciting. Then, she would be off the hook.

Until then, she would just be hiding under her covers and dodging Harry's presence.

—————

(Y/N) blinked her tired eyes as she lay bundled up in her bed, the morning light a little too bright for her. She'd stayed up most of the night, scrolling through her phone mindlessly until she managed to flop asleep for a couple of hours. The sunshine woke her, the look of the stars in the night too enticing for (Y/N) to ever remember to close her drapes before the sun rose.

It didn't make her regret it any less in this moment, though.

Turning between her sheets, she gave her back to the open balcony doors, her eyes fluttering closed. She'll wake up a little later to eat something—hopefully, Harry would be busy elsewhere.

A moment later, with (Y/N) on the edge of sleep, a knock rattled her French doors. On instinct, she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She did her best to pretend to sleep when she heard the same door open, pacing her breathing and relaxing her features as much as she could. If only she had kept her back to the door, she would have endured another few moments of the sunshine if it would have made this moment easier.

Harry entered her room after a beat, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. (Y/N) didn't waver in her act, keeping her eyes shut and breathing easy.

"I know you're awake."

She could feel her heart racing in her chest at his words. Just keep breathing, she reminded herself, keep breathing and keep her face relaxed.

The static in the room shifted, (Y/N) assuming he stepped towards her. "(Y/N)," he said, his voice firm, "I know you're awake."

(Y/N) stayed quiet. She could only imagine the way his lips thinned and that unimpressed gaze of his stayed stitched to her face.

"I just wanted to let you know that I found a pilates studio nearby and I booked you a spot for the morning class. It starts in a couple of hours. Shower and eat if you want, but we will be going either way."

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) broke her act in shock. Looking up at Harry from where she was bundled in bed, her bloodshot eyes met his intense gaze.

"What?"

Raising his brow, Harry looked a little too smug.

"I found a studio nearby for you," he started simply, the moss of his eyes stuck on hers, "They had a spot available in their morning class. I signed you up for it. 'M not going to let you miss this."

Shifting between the sheets, she curled her fingers around the hem of her sheet. "I don't feel good, Harry," she croaked, "I don't really want to—"

"Y'can't stay in your room the whole time we're here, (Y/N). You know that. Hiding isn't going to fix anything."

Behind her ribs, (Y/N) felt something begin to boil. "I'm not trying to fix anything. I just want to be left alone, Harry."

"That's not going to be possible while 'm here." He matched her intensity head on, unwavering where he stood. "Now, please get up, and I will see if I can put together some breakfast for you."

With that, Harry gave her his back as he stepped out of her room. He left the door wide open behind him, a tactic that made (Y/N)'s jaw clench and skin heat. He knew she wouldn't be able to stand having the door open, forcing her to get out of bed to close it.

Looking at him through her wide open doors, she spotted him puttering about the kitchen without a care in the world. It pissed her off even more.

Can't he see she's in a state of mourning? Her reputation and chunks of her self worth died that night at the Gala. She didn't need some sunshine-y pilates class, full of breathing techniques and affirmations. What she needed was her father to respect her, and everyone to leave her alone, and her head to be fucking quiet for once.

The rage bubbling in her chest propelled her out of bed, stomping over the floor with her sheets flung behind her. She was seething as she made it to the threshold, grasping the doorknobs with her hands rolled into fists. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she just wanted him to leave her alone, understand that she was pissed off and he wasn't helping even a little. All while he was prancing around their kitchen without care in the world.

She stopped in her tracks when she took in the fact that he really was prancing around the kitchen. As much as she wanted to be angry and seethe at him, he wasn't there without a care in the world. He was in the process of making breakfast for her. Using their limited supply of food seeing as she hadn't done any grocery shopping other than a single delivery and he didn't know his way around the city at all. He was sacrificing the little rounds of bread they had left for her.

The bar of her shoulders loosened to a slope, her jaw unclenching.

None of this was Harry's fault—she knew that. She was in therapy for two years for these kinds of anxiety issues, these gut feelings that made her so frustrated she was almost paralyzed. The real problem was the fact that she was scared. She didn't want to see the world, and she didn't want the world to see her. She didn't want someone to see her face and be reminded of the mascara that was pictured running down her cheeks, her cry-swollen lips, and the messy pile of hair that had been on her head.

That was none of Harry's fault, though. He was only trying to help her. She wasn't helping anyone—especially herself—by staying cooped up in her room and running on anxiety and three sips of water. While leaving her room and doing something as annoyingly centering as pilates sounded terrible in the moment, in the long run it would help her in ways she couldn't anticipate with her brain scrambled like this.

Carefully closing the doors behind her, (Y/N) turned back to her room and set for her bathroom to get ready for the day.

—————

Two hours away from her phone, the time filled with breathing, pushing the stretch of her muscles, and kind French women asking about her cute leggings, left (Y/N) feeling... nice.

Sweat stuck to her skin, baby hairs clung to the outskirts of her features, and her thighs ached, but she didn't mind. She couldn't find it in herself to have a complaint.

She stepped out of the studio, waving goodbye to the instructor with diffused red lipstick, (Y/N) faced the street to look for Harry with a soft smile on her features. She found the sedan on the curb just a handful of spots away from the entrance to the studio. Her steps were leisurely as she made her way over the concrete.

Climbing into the passenger seat, she patiently clicked her seatbelt and waited for Harry to pull away from the curb. Maybe he would be willing to let her grab a purple smoothie from one of the cafes by the penthouse.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, his tone careful as he slipped into the flow of Parisian traffic.

"Really good actually. Thank you." She didn't hesitate to flash him a soft-lipped smile. "You didn't have to do any of this for me, so it really means a lot."

Something prideful entered his features as he listened to her. The green in his eyes sparkled as he canted his head. "Y'haven't even seen the best part, yet."

"What do you mean?" A pinch in her brows marred her features.

"While y'were busy," he started, his hands sliding over the steering wheel as he smoothly turned at an intersection, "I was able to find one of your purple drinks at a café."

Directing her eyes to the center console between them, (Y/N) finally spotted the clear cup with her favorite purple smoothie inside. She took in a bubbly gasp, her features blooming in excitement.

"Harry! Thank you!" she squealed, grabbing the cup from the holder with her cardigan covered hands.

Harry didn't say anything in response, instead allowing the closest thing she'd ever seen to a full smile on his face come to fruition. She swore she saw the ghost of a dimple on one of his cheeks.

All it took was a single sip, the clear acid of pomegranate seeds and bright raspberry bursting over her tongue, that practically changed her entire outlook on life.

"This is, like, the best day of my life," (Y/N) joked with a fluffy laugh, greedily fitting the straw between her lips once more.

Harry let out just the faintest huff of air through his nose, his concentration on the road before them, as she gazed at him. The scape of Paris passed behind him, sunlight shaping his silhouette.

She wasn't so sure she was joking about this being the best day, anymore.

—————

"You've never been to Paris before this? Not even with Camila and Monroe?"

Swallowing down a bite of his breakfast sandwich, Harry cleared his throat as he shook his head. "No. They preferred going through the states."

"Wow," (Y/N) sounded, slowly dragging her piece of buttery toast through the remaining hollandaise sauce on her plate. "This is your first time ever."

"Mhm," he hummed, peeking at her through the fan of his lashes, "That's what I said."

While (Y/N) didn't like to think of herself as spoiled or out of touch, she guessed maybe she forgot that international travel wasn't the norm for most people. Paris was like a second home to her, it was crazy to think that Harry hadn't had the joy of visiting, even if for a day.

"I have to show you around then," she mused, making the decision on her own. Seeing the Eiffel Tower from his balcony wasn't enough, she had to show him the real deal.

Harry raised his brows, his shoulders hunching over his plate as he took another bite of his sandwich. He waited until he had swallowed before speaking. "Show me around?"

"Yes! You need to be a tourist, a little," (Y/N) bleated, "It would be fun, don't you think? I'll show you all of the famous spots, and I can show you my favorites, too."

Sipping his coffee, Harry lingered for a moment, his eyes on her. He seemed to have brought his observing gaze along from home. "That would be really nice, actually. Thank you, (Y/N)."

Practically bouncing in her seat, she leant across as if sharing a secret. "Can we do it today, then? Or did you have other plans?"

"Seeing as how 'm here with you, I think you are my only plans."

(Y/N) didn't expect the flutter that happened in her chest. Warmth bubbled behind her cheeks when he didn't seem to be teasing her at all, instead that intensity still followed as he spoke.

He flustered her a bit.

"Good," she sounded, swallowing around her tongue as she disconnected their eye contact, "Finish eating, and then we'll go be tourists."

—————

Peering down at her phone, (Y/N) did her best to be aware of her surroundings while poking at the map of Paris on her screen.

"I think we'll start easy and see the Eiffel Tower first," (Y/N) mused, leading them in the direction of the train station that would take them to the attraction.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, looking down at her with a small kink to his brow.

"Mhm," she hummed happily, "It's way better up close and in person, honestly. We could go later to see it at night with all the twinkle lights, but I think I might be too excited to wait."

That phantom smile settled on his lips for the second time. "I think we could do that, come back and see the twinkle lights. I think it would be a lot of fun."

Eagerly nodding her head, (Y/N) couldn't wait to add the plans to the set mental itinerary she was lacing together. "If you're not too tired after the Tower, there are a few other places I wanted to visit today."

"And, what are those?"

(Y/N)'s babbling filled the air between them, her hands gesturing as she spoke. She had a list forming in her head, landmarks popping up as she went that she swore she needed to show him at least once before their time in Paris was over.

He didn't stop her as she bubbled on, dominating the conversation while only vaguely guiding her down the pedestrian path and keeping her out of danger. She was the one that knew the city, but it seemed she still didn't pay a whole lot of attention to her surroundings. His hand was a curling breeze over her back, palm grazing between her shoulder blades.

Hitting the train station, Harry didn't slack on the way he herded her around, acting as a wall between herself and the public. Even with the fact that Paris was decidedly less crazy for her, less recognition and less people bold enough to approach her (she'd only seen a handful of people take photos of her even), he didn't waver on his job.

"Careful," he told her when they stepped onto the train, him just a foot behind.

Staying quiet, (Y/N) blinked looking around the train car. It was full this morning, tourists and the like taking up each seat with others standing by the bars. She hesitated in her steps, unsure of where to go as a handful of others boarded with them. Taking over, Harry guided her inside, pushing her to an unoccupied corner by a rail.

"Hang on," he told her, huddling her into the small space.

Instantly, she had her hand wrapped around the bar, Harry grabbing the one above their heads. He stood facing her, his back to the rest of the car while she looked up at him with her phone in her free hand.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Harry gave her a small nod, his gaze looking out the window.

The intercom dinged once the doors closed, a calm female voice running over the map of the next stop in French. Pulling out her phone, she reloaded the page of all the stops and the schedules. "I think we're the last stop," she told Harry, tapping at her phone distractedly.

Suddenly, she was thrown off balance once the train shot off, the slow startup being left behind. (Y/N) stumbled, her grip on the handrail clearly not tight enough. Quick as ever, Harry stopped her with a hand on her waist, keeping her upright as her eyes widened and a gasp fell from her lips.

Harry's voice was low as he righted her, the train steadying in speed, "I told you to be careful."

Her hand with her phone continued to cling to his arm even when she was flat on her feet once more.

"I guess I forgot how these are. Sorry," she mumbled, pulling her gaze from where she centered on the dip of his throat up to his face.

Amusement laced through his features in a slight softening of the edges light in his irises. "Maybe."

Harry didn't move his hand from her waist until he ushered her to take a vacated seat.

—————

Walking down the uneven pathways, (Y/N) took the familiar route in stride. The train dropped them off near the Eiffel Tower, but there was still a short walk to be had. Harry was at her side as they mixed in with the flow of tourists and locals set around the area.

Everything was much cooler here. New York was new and eccentric, full of people setting trends with others following. It was loud and brash, full to the brim with everything and anything. Paris was different. It still moved fast—it was still a major city after all—, but cooler. There was an ease about the people, the palettes, the decorum. Everything worked on the same flow as the Seine, leisurely and winding with a cigarette in hand. She tended to travel here in the summer with lavender fields blooming, but she wondered what a Parisian winter would be like.

She imagined lots of soup and wine.

"We're almost there," she told him, casting her gaze outwards to catch the tower in the distance, "But, if we went down that way"—she pointed down another walkway—"we'd be able to see the second Statue of Liberty they have here."

"There's another one?" Harry asked, following the direction of her pointed finger.

"Mhm," she hummed, keeping them moving forward, "I can't remember his name, but a French architect designed the statue and made two—one for us and one to keep."

Harry took in the information in his silently observant ways, cataloguing it all to be filed away. "What else is around here?"

(Y/N) bounced in her steps at the question, all too excited to tell him more about the city she loved. With how widespread and different Paris was depending on the section of the city you ended up in, it was easy to forget how some of the most beautiful pieces of human culture were only planted miles apart. She could be Harry's tour guide for weeks just to get through every spot in Paris.

She took her time pointing him in every which direction, telling him more and more while glimpsing other spots she told him she wanted to stop at if they had the time. Soon enough, the Tower was before them, the lawn around the fixture lush and dotted with tourists.

In the mid-morning light, it glimmered like the lights were blinking on, shimmering and dancing under the sun.

"Wow," Harry murmured, almost breaking his neck as he looked up at it, his steps absently moving him closer.

A wink of pride touched (Y/N)'s chest. She couldn't believe with how well travelled he seemed that he never had seen a place like this, but she would take the honor of being the one to show him. Maybe it wasn't so bad that she got him exiled here if she was able to share something like this.

"It's crazy, right?" she asked, her voice a breath as if to not disturb the towering structure, "I know back home has all the skyscrapers and everything, but this just feels like it's more. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice floated on impressed awe. "Better than the photos, like you said."

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw the way Harry looked up with wonder in his eyes at the Tower. She was sure he was catching every detail, ever rung, every bolt.

"So you wouldn't want a picture with it, then?" (Y/N) teased, watching the way a pinch appeared in Harry's brow.

"No, of course I want a picture." The slight pout to his lips had (Y/N)'s grin widening into a bubbling laugh. She wondered if he even knew he made a face like that.

Taking his eyes off the Tower for the first time since approaching the green, he looked to her with his own lips plucking into something amused. It wasn't a full smile, not yet, but something lopsided and reserved. She spotted that phantom dimple.

Blinking back into the moment, (Y/N) took a step back, intending to photograph Harry in front of the monument. He took his phone out from his back pocket, not even glancing at her before he was casting his gaze around elsewhere. The moment she was about to offer, reaching for his phone, he honed in on a family of tourists, the father with his own camera trained above his head as he took shot after shot of the scene.

"Excuse me," Harry started, stepping towards them, "Would y'mind taking our photo, please?"

The tourist agreed with a bright Sure!, taking Harry's phone from him once being instructed on how to use it. Guiding them back to where (Y/N) stood in wait, she saw as the rest of the family seemed to notice what was going on. The mother and the daughter of the group took in (Y/N)'s presence, eyes widening while the father went along oblivious. They recognized her, that much she could tell.

She didn't know what to process first, honestly. Harry wanting her to be in his picture, or the whispers that were currently being shared by the family in front of her, eyes glancing in her direction more often than not.

"Here, alright?" Harry asked, looking down at where she stood at his side, "Or do y'want to move?"

"Here is fine," she said, a slight smile on her features.

"Ready?" the father asked, poising Harry's phone for the best angles.

Wordlessly, Harry offered her his arm. She hesitated for only a second, turning into him with one hand fitting into the crook of her elbow with the other on the broad of his shoulder. She couldn't help the bright grin on her features, no longer a part of the pose she was giving for the camera. The whole of his side was pressed against her, reminding her of the only bright spots she experienced during the Gala: when Harry held her.

She happily posed beside him as the tourist tapped away at Harry's phone, changing the angles once or twice. "Are these alright?" he asked once he was finished, holding the phone out for Harry to take.

Breaking away from his side, (Y/N) lingered closer than she figured was probably normal as he flicked through the additions to his camera roll. She tried not to read too far into the slight smile on his lips as he did so.

"These are perfect, thank you," he responded, fitting his phone back into his pocket.

"Thank you," (Y/N) parroted, feeling the eyes of the daughter and mother on her during her brief speech.

Pleasantries were exchanged, Harry offering to take a photo of the family that was waved off before parting ways. The daughter only glanced back at her once after.

That bubbly feeling in (Y/N)'s stomach remained when she turned her gaze towards Harry. "Did you want one of just you, or anything?"

Harry shook his head, curls of brown hair fluffing over his head. "'M okay," he told her, "I like these."

(Y/N) didn't know what to say, instead allowing a small smile to settle on her lips. Redirecting her gaze to the Tower, she did her best to pretend like she wasn't hanging off of every word he was giving.

"Can we come back?"

Blinking, (Y/N) fell back into the moment, her eyes sweeping across the land on him. "Hm?"

"I want to come back at night when the lights are on, if that's alright."

This time she couldn't suppress the toothy smile that fit onto her lips.

"I think we could do that."

Maybe they could grab another photo together, the tower shimmering behind.

—————

"Are you okay with one more stop?"

Harry, now familiar with the route from the train station to the apartment, guided them back down the pedestrian streets. He looked down at her from where the sun was gliding over her skin, the late afternoon hours catching up with the sinking sun.

"I think I can handle it," he mused, maneuvering her out of the way of a large group. "What did you have in mind?"

(Y/N) perked up at his agreement. She walked with a bounce in her steps as if her muscles weren't beginning to ache from the full day of sightseeing. Despite the grumble in her stomach and her throat feeling a little too dry to be normal, she felt light. Showing Harry around and introducing him to the country's greatest landmarks was more than worth it.

His camera roll was full of photos of the day, a good handful of them including (Y/N) after he beckoned her to join him. Even the places they didn't have time to properly visit (the Lourve being the most notable one), Harry didn't seem annoyed that she wanted to spend a moment outside, instead indulging her with taking photos and asking about her own experiences. There were separate days entirely that they planned on using to visit the vast amount of libraries and museums in the area.

"There's a place by the apartment called the Les Duex Magots," she said, peering around the neighbourhood in hopes of catching sight of the awning.

"And what's special about it?"

Catching sight of it down the walkway, there was the same line down the walk that there always was at this time of day. The patio was warm and glimmering in the sunlight, tiny cups of coffee and pastries out on the tables beside people who brought their journals and laptops. Conversations in French fluttered in the wind, carrying inspiration.

"This is where a bunch of artists, and authors, and philosophers would come and sit and make some of the stuff that's now in the museums. Amazing stuff has come from here," she said, wonder in her tone. What would it have been like to be those people, scribbling away in journals or sketching on napkins unknowing of what would come later.

Looking down at her, Harry crooked an eyebrow. "Yeah?" he asked, the golden sun ferreting out the bright flecks in the moss of his eyes.

"Mhm," she hummed, a beaming smile on her face, "It's a little bit of a tourist trap now, but I still think it's special."

A beat passed, Harry's observant eyes grazing over the planes of her face. "Let's go then, yeah?"

(Y/N) felt the creases beside her eyes deepen with the width of her smile. "Yeah," she repeated, her voice sounding softer than she'd ever heard without cameras present.

Approaching the end of the line, (Y/N) could hear murmurings of the wait time. The estimates were closer to that of an hour before they would be offered a table—and that's assuming that the patio patrons don't linger.

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) began inching around the line in hopes of catching a glimpse of those on shift. She played with the edges of her acrylics as she weighed her options.

Turning back to face Harry, she started towards the front of the line. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Harry pressed, stepping to follow her on instinct.

"I'm just going to check on something, but wait right here. I'll be back in a second," she promised, shooting him a small smile.

After a beat, Harry stood down. "Jus' stay where I can see you, please," he conditioned, his hands coming to clasp together at his front.

With that, (Y/N) continued towards the front in hopes of seeing a familiar face. While there was a bit of guilt over the privilege of being recognized in places like these, special treatment coming around from certain people, there were days like these where she intended to bury it away. If being recognized and taking up favors allowed for Harry to have a special day, that's what she would do.

That's why she didn't feel so bad when she saw the familiar face of one of the higher ups of the cafe, his brown eyes widening when he took her in through the glass entryway.

"(Y/N), mon chéri! Bonjour, bonjour!" he bubbled off as he stepped around the awaiting patrons. He greeted her with open arms, happily wrapping her in a hug before pressing a duo of kisses to her cheeks.

(Y/N) fawned under the attention, "Bonjour, Benoit! Je suis si heureux de te voir! J'avais peur que tu me manques ce soir."

Onlookers watched their interaction, none seemingly paying much attention to who (Y/N) was other than the fact she was cozying up with someone of the establishment.

"Je ne savais même pas que tu étais à Paris, ma chérie," Benoit mused, his words tumbling over each other the way they always did with the amount of energy that seemed to always be coursing through him. He began inching her towards the entrance, soft hand on her elbow, "Je suis content que tu ne m'aies pas manqué non plus, allez allez."

"C'était un voyage de dernière minute, donc je n'ai pas eu l'occasion de le dire à beaucoup de gens," she responded, sinking her feet in before she could wander out of Harry's line of sight, "Mais, j'ai amené un ami avec moi cette fois, ça te dérange si je l'attrape d'abord?"

Benoit dropped his hand from her, "Non, non ça ne me dérange pas!"

He shooed her off with a flick of his wrist, expectantly waiting for her to return with her friend.

Stepping around the line, she beckoned Harry to her with a short smile.

"What's going on?" Harry murmured once he was close enough, head low to match his tone.

"I know someone here, and I think he's going to get us a table early," (Y/N) mumbled, molding her features into a pleasant smile as they approached Benoit.

(Y/N) just hoped Harry wouldn't think less of her for using this small advantage. She wanted to keep this special day going for him, even if that meant pulling a few strings so he would have a chance to eat sooner rather than later.

Rejoining her friend, she gestured to Harry with a flourish. "Benny, c'est Harry. C'est sa première fois à Paris, alors je lui ai montré tous les meilleurs spots aujourd'hui."

Benoit fawned under the compliments, guiding them towards the entrance as he fanned himself over his shoulder. "Oh, alors bien sûr vous l'avez amené me rencontrer. Merci ma chérie, le sentiment est réciproque."

Letting out a peal of laughter, (Y/N) took Harry's arm in her grasp and towed him behind. Following Benoit, she indulged in his idle chatter while they meandered through the full tables. Finding their way to the back, she saw as he muttered something to one of the servers, her eyes flitting over her manager's shoulder to spot her and Harry. Benoit dropped them off at a table farther in the back, as secluded as they could get in the crowded restaurant.

He looked at her with an arched brow as he pulled out a chair for her. "C'est parfait, mon amour!" she answered his unsaid question.

"Magnifique!" he cheered, pushing in her chair once she was situated against the cushioned bottom, Harry across the table. "Colette s'occupera de toi, mais dis-moi si tu as besoin de quoi que ce soit, ma chérie!"

Benoit left their table in a flourish, dramatically French as always. Directing her attention back to her companion, (Y/N) found Harry looking at her with his forearms on the table and raised brows.

She felt a bit silly now, knowing he saw the whole interaction and the specific strings she pulled to get this table. "I've known him since I started coming to Paris by myself after I turned eighteen," she started, dropping her eyes to the menu in front of her, "He would check up on me a lot and make sure I was alright. He's like my older brother."

"That's very nice of him," Harry murmured, that arch to his brow lowering, "What was his name, again?"

"Benoit," she answered, reading over the French script on her menu, "I kinda feel bad about letting him have us skip the line, but at the same time, I'm really hungry."

"I don't blame you," Harry muttered, amusement tinting his tone as he looked at his own menu.

A beat of silence passed before she heard a quiet oh from across the table.

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, taking her eyes off the laminate to land on Harry.

He had his menu flat on the table, the glimmering script taking her eyes while he read it over. He startled at her question, his gaze flicking up towards her.

"This place is jus'... different than what I thought," he shared.

"What do you mean?"

Rolling his neck, his head cushioned by his shoulders, she watched as he tried to find his words. "I thought this was a café, so I don't think I was expecting everything else."

Glancing down at her menu, trying to find what would have taken him by surprise, she found the context. She couldn't imagine he knew much French, especially with the way she took the lead today when speaking to locals and understanding directions. The only thing she could see him clearly understanding were the gilded numbers beside the items.

Ducking her head low, she craned her neck towards him as if they could really share a secret in this crowded restaurant.

"It's definitely overpriced," she murmured to him, flicking her eyes to the menu in his hand, "There's better stuff for cheaper around the corner, but I think it's all about the experience. We're where some of the greatest people in history have sat."

That phantom smile reached his lips once more as he looked at her over the table, buttery golden light reaching through the windows panelling the front. "I can see that," he mused, the impression of a dimple showing for just a moment to the right of his raspberry lips.

She matched his smile, though hers was decidedly less hidden. She lingered in that space for another moment before pulling back. "I'll take care of everything today, anyway. Don't worry about it."

No way was she going to let him pay for himself when this entire day was her idea, she decided. She doubted Harry would want to hear that, though, considering she was beginning to see just how seriously he took his job of her wellbeing.

When she could still feel his eyes on her, something sharper behind his usual observant gaze, she decided to ignore the protests he would give.

"Do you know what you want?" she asked instead, not taking her eyes off of the menu.

When he didn't immediately answer, she peeked over the edge of her menu through the fan of her lashes. He had his eyes trained on the script once more, a pinch between his brows. Harry canted his head as he read. "Everything's in French."

"Yeah," she responded simply.

A huff of laughter left him at her answer. "Yeah."

"Do you want me to translate anything for you?" she asked, scooting her chair in that much more as if it would make a difference.

"That might help," he accepted, "As 'm sure y'noticed today, I don't know really any French."

Reaching across the table, she pointed through the categories on the menu, listing them off for Harry in English. "And, there's croissants and pastries and stuff, here," she finished, circling out the final section on the page.

Harry squinted at the page, his head canted to the side as he examined for himself. "What's that?" he asked, pointing out one of the main courses, "That's a sandwich, right?"

"Mhm," (Y/N) chirped, tipping her head to get a chance to run over the script, "It's a smoked salmon sandwich with avocado and fries, and a bunch of other yummy stuff."

"Oh. How do you say it?"

"Club sandwich au saumon fumé 'petrossian',"(Y/N) responded simply in the French pronunciation of the meal, swirling the syllables into something fluid. Flicking her gaze up, she found his eyes trained on her.

When he was caught, he blinked down and pointed at another item on the menu. "What's that?"

Following his direction, she told him, "Snails, but they're these really big kind, an—"

"No, no—in French."

"Oh," she started, a pinch appearing in her brow. Nonetheless, she repeated her words in her alternate language, "Escargots géants et sauvages de Bourgogne."

Harry's eyes lingered on her before he pointed at the menu once more, another sandwich at the end of his finger. "This?"

Though it was clear Harry wasn't necessarily paying much attention to what she was saying, but still she humored him. "Crottin chaud sur pain Poilâne poivré—it's just goat cheese on bread."

This time, Harry didn't even look at where his finger landed randomly on the page, his eyes fixed on her. "This?"

She couldn't keep her laughter in this time. "Harry," she smiled, "That's a croissant."

Blinking with a flutter of his lashes, he finally looked at where his hand was pointing. "Oh, yeah," he agreed, a huff of soft laughter falling from his lips.

Giving up on the game, (Y/N) cradled her chin in her palm, elbow on the table. "I can teach you some French if you want?"

Looking up at her, the length of his lashes highlighted in the draping sunlight. "Yeah?"

"Of course," she agreed with a curling smile. Tracing her eyes over the menu, she randomly picked a wine from the list. Tilting the page towards him, with her finger pointing at the name. "Do you want to try saying this?"

"Maybe," Harry mused, squinting his eyelids to take in the diacritics over the letters.

"Just repeat after me: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She could feel Harry's eyes on her lips, her mouth wrapping around the syllables and twirling through the accent.

A beat passed before Harry seemed to snap into the moment. He clumsily attempted to pronounce the wine, struggling with the first word as if he hadn't just heard how to say it.

"No, no, like this," she said, with a soft breath of laughter, "Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She emphasized the particle he stumbled over, dipping her chin and slowing her words.

Once again, he murmured the incorrect pronunciation though he did a hair better than before.

"Better," she praised, a caveat coming just from the tone of voice, "But try this: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune."

When he copied her once more, he somehow butchered the words that much more. (Y/N) couldn't help the peal of laughter that filled the space between them, rising over the dull roar of the restaurant. She could feel eyes flittering to her, taking in her disruptive presence with some recognizing her and others just annoyed in the most French of fashion. Though, (Y/N) didn't care.

There was a part of her that had to know that he was playing up his inability, she liked thinking his guard might have fallen some. She remembered thinking that she couldn't imagine anything Harry couldn't handle or wasn't the best at. It wasn't much, but this was the most vulnerable she'd seen him, and all it took was a shaky accent and butchered French wine.

"You'll get it soon," she breathed out a laugh, cradling her chin in her palm.

"Yeah? You'll keep helping me, then?" he pressed, that ghost dimple pressing into his cheek.

(Y/N) allowed her eyes to travel over his features. She took in the dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the blonde stubble over his cheeks, the gentle lines on the corners of his eyes. If she wasn't careful, her bodyguard was going to be recruited for a runway show.

"Of course," she confirmed, "You'll be like a local by the time we leave."

And for a moment, she didn't find herself itching to know when that time would be.

—————

"How do y'say that?"

"Tomate."

"That?"

"Carotte."

"That?"

"Poireau."

"That?"

Looking up from the stall of the farmer's market (Y/N) was browsing, she looked at him with raised brows and a quiet smile. "Are you even trying to learn anymore, or are you just trying to see if I actually know French?"

Quickly flicking his gaze up to match her own, Harry responded, "I mean, I think 'm learning."

"Yeah?" she pressed, examining a stalk of celery from one of the stalls, "What are we making for dinner, then?"

(Y/N) couldn't deny the tiny bit of pleasure she got over hearing him gum around the accented words she told him before they started out for the farmer's market.

"Close!" she chirped, offering a smile to the attendant of the vegetable stall.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, his features brightening from the corner of her eye.

"Mhm," she hummed, placing the onion, celery, and tomatoes she wanted on the checkout station at the end of the stall, "With an accent it would be gougeres and bisqué. But, we'll work on that."

Harry left her be as she conversed with the stall worker, working out the pricing for her ingredients before moving on with the vegetables now stowed in her tote bag.

Meandering through the stalls, Harry followed behind, diligently scanning the crowd. Even if (Y/N) had stepped out of the public eye for the time being, he didn't slack on his job. Without removing his eyes from the crowded market, he spoke to her in his smooth tone.

"And a bisque is a soup right?" he murmured.

(Y/N) hummed in confirmation, having led them to a further back stall with panels of ice spread out under an extensive tent. Spread across the ice was fresh seafood in the form of chilled crabs and bags of large prawns. Lobsters and whole fix were kept in the back, clams and mussels nestled in-between cubes of replenished ice.

"Isn’t it a little... hot for soup?" Harry prodded from behind her.

Shrugging, (Y/N) absently answered, "That's what you'd think. Then you have some soup and realize it doesn't really matter what the weather is, soup is always good." Taking a step towards the table, she looked at him, "This is the last thing we need, then we can go."

He didn't have a chance to respond before (Y/N) was selecting seafoods to be added to their bisque, the last thing on the list before they would need to head back to the apartment. He stood back as she plucked up her ingredients and spoke to the attendant, feeling his eyes on her as she went.

With her tote now filled with her finds, the shells of the crabs pinging against the bottle of white wine beside it, she gave the worker a smile before turning to Harry. Just in time with her own departure, another patron made their move through the tent, blindly crashing into her. His head of dark hair was a flash from the corner of her eye, mumbled apologies being offered in broken French. Before (Y/N) could give much of a response, Harry was at her side.

Positioning himself in between (Y/N) and the other man, Harry slipped into his bodyguard role, protecting her from even the smallest of accidents. He steadied her on her feet, ensuring she was balanced with a hand on her elbow and another slipping around her waist. The man who had bumped into her was blocked off, rushing away after another muttered apology with his eyes on the ground.

"Are y'okay?" Harry murmured, towing her to one of the further corners of the tent, away from the other shoppers.

She nodded her head, allowing him to keep his lingering hold on her before he pulled away. "I'm okay. Sorry," she told him, peering around him in hopes of finding the man to assure him it was alright. Unfortunately, he had slipped away already. Maybe it was from how quickly everything moved, the way the man appeared then seamlessly entered in with the crowd once more, but (Y/N) she recognized the flash of his features she saw. She shook her head from the though, placing her attention back on Harry. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

His observant gaze flitted over her form, his hands drifting from her. "'S alright, as long as you're okay," he assured her, "M'job has been a lot easier here, so I don't mind stepping in if y'need."

"Paris is always a little bit easier for me," she told him, following after him as he inched out of the seafood stall into the stream of patrons outside. "I don't think I'm that recognizable here, so that always helps after something like what happened at the Gala."

Harry visibly tensed as he fell into step beside her. "Have y'heard from your dad at all?" he asked, his gaze cast out ahead of them.

A beat passed.

"No. Have you?"

Harry's jaw ticked at her question. "He's talked to me some, yes."

(Y/N) left the conversation there, unwilling and uninterested in what that conversation looked like. She doubted it was positive when it came to her.

"You're ready to head back?" Harry prodded after a moment, decidedly less tense after the silence.

"Yes, please," she answered simply.

—————

Spreading her mail across the tiled counter, (Y/N) froze when she felt an envelope that was a little too heavy to belong amongst the thin slips.

While she knew it was slowly beginning to leak that she had escaped to Paris, blurry photos resurfacing with people questioning if it could really be her, she figured it would be too up in the air for a letter like this to show up.

Slipping her finger under the flap of the creamy envelope, (Y/N) couldn't help her curiosity. What kind of photos could have been obtained when she swore she didn't see a single person following her, a single professional camera aimed in her direction. Harry would have no doubt seen anything out of the ordinary. She couldn't imagine anything slipping under his watch, let alone an envelope's full.

Taking advantage of the time she had alone, Harry using the restroom before he would be used as an extra pair of hands, she pulled out the glossy photos.

Photos of her stepping into her apartment building greeted her first, her pilates uniform adorning her body. Harry had been cropped from the shot, but the edge of his arm could be seen from where he followed behind her. Others of her going to the studio, climbing into Harry's car, sightseeing around the city were in the bundle. There were shots of them at the Eiffel Tower, cruising the pedestrian walkways, catching dinner at the café. There were even pictures of them on the train together, close enough to capture her shock when she almost stumbled after the jolting take off.

It was odd to say the least. Not once in any of those places—especially on the train—had she spotted a camera that could produce the kind of quality these photos possessed.

Underneath them all was a letter. The paper was soft against the pads of her fingers, the edges of her nails catching the folded seam. She swallowed at the sight of the worn paper.

This was the first time in at least a year that she even opened one of these envelopes, she wasn't sure she could stomach reading a letter at the same time.

Just then, the sound of the sink running filtered into her brain. Harry would be out here soon, and he couldn't see this.

In a split second, she collected the photos in a jumbled mess and slipped them back inside the envelope. She practically sprinted across the apartment to her room. The letter found a new home in the bottom drawer of her vanity, under a stack of eyeshadow palettes she rarely used anymore.

She emerged from her room at the same time Harry stepped into the common room. His eyes were cast towards the kitchen where she was sure he expected to find her.

"When do y'think dinner will be ready?" he asked, flicking his eyes towards her once he caught her leaving her room.

Forgetting the letter in her room, the small fire she doused in the vanity drawer, she gave him a look with raised brows. "You don't think you're helping?"

—————

"Harry, just keep stirring. I promise it's almost done."

(Y/N) didn't have to turn to see the impatient slump of his shoulders at her words. She had tasked him with watching the bisqué while she prepped the seafood that would be plopped in at the end, and infusing the butter that was to be dropped in during serving. It wasn't a hard job he was in charge of, but it was one that she would rather be delegated to him.

"I've been stirring for thirty minutes now," he complained again, his voice closer to that of a petulant child than the calm security detail she knew him to be.

"It's been, like, five, but okay," she bubbled back, a smile audible in her tone.

It was almost endearing to see him like this, she thought. He'd never played with her before like this, given her this kind of leeway and release under his walls.

"(Y/N)," he tried again, as if saying her name was enough to convince her.

Carrying her cutting board of prepped seafood—rich crab and tiny shrimp—she came up behind him on careful steps. "Okay, okay," she relented, "We just need to put the crab and everything in, let it simmer for another five minutes since we already cooked it, and then it's done. Can you handle that?"

"Finally," Harry sighed, acting as if pounds of weight were being lifted off of his shoulders. All because he couldn't handle stirring a soup for longer than a handful of minutes.

Letting out a huff of laughter, she shook her head. From the corner of her eye, she definitely caught those dimples in his cheeks once more, this time a little less than those of a phantom.

"Go deal with the gougeres, then. I'll finish the bisqué."

"Okay," he mumbled, a little too eager to let go of the wooden spoon he had been equipped with. As he approached the cooling pan of the small savory pastries, (Y/N) could hear him attempting to pronounce the name in a proper accent.

A grin stretched across her features at the sound.

Soon enough, the bisqué was doled out between wide bowls, a dollop of butter dropped on top with Harry's arranged platter of gougeres in the middle. The balcony drapes were wide open, allowing a view over the city, buttery and warm under the waning light. The ladder of the Eiffel Tower glimmered like gold in the light, the green around it that much more vivid in the distance.

(Y/N) waited to take her first bite, resisting the lumps of crab meat and spiced broth in front of her, until Harry took his spot across. She was surely a little too eager to see him take his first bite, to catch his reaction.

"I want you to try it first," she told him once he was settled in, a toothy smile on her features.

"Yeah?" he asked, already picking up the wide spoon she had selected for him. He flicked his gaze up to match hers with raised brows.

(Y/N) only answered with a small nod, a little too distracted from the view of his eyes.

He maintained that eye contact with her as he scooped up a fruitful bite, taking to heart that she wanted him to try it first in hopes of learning his reaction. She wanted to feel unnerved by it, awkward knowing that he wasn't wavering in the contact, but she couldn't find that in her when she was glancing at the bits of sunlight amongst the green.

Taking that first bite, it took half a second before Harry was humming with his full mouth. He was impressed, that much she could tell from the reverence he gave as he looked down at his bowl. "This is good—really good."

Practically bouncing in her seat, (Y/N) bubbled, "I told you so! All the stirring was worth it, huh?"

Canting his head, Harry playfully contemplated her words. "I guess so," he relented with a heavy sigh.

A lopsided smile touched at the very corner of his mouth.

Blinking her eyes with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) tried not to be too fixated on the half smile he was offering her. "Try it with one of the gougeres!"

Feeling vindicated, (Y/N) began her own meal, scooping up a hearty bite of the bisqué, steam rolling off the bite. She couldn't wait for it to cool, chancing that heated bite in favor of trying it sooner rather than later.

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I have a feeling you know 'm going to say this is good, huh?" Harry teased, reaching for one of the cheese pastries from the platter.

"Sure," she said, swallowing down the rich soup, "But, I like to hear it anyway."

Shaking his head a little, he scooped up the bisqué with the help of the gougere. "Do you always cook like this?" he asked, allowing the tomato broth to soak the treat, "I didn't notice anything like this back in the States."

"Sometimes," she said in-between her own bites, savoring the spice she added to the broth, "when I have the time. But I tru to make the time whenever I can. It's one of my favorite things to do."

"Cooking?" Harry pressed, sinking into the conversation between indulgent bites of dinner.

She nodded her head with a hum, stealing her own gougere. "It's really fun to me," she explained, "When I was little, my parents were gone a lot so I spent a lot of time with the chefs we had, so I learned a lot then. When I started at my private school, though, that's when I started making my own stuff for me and my friends. It's just been one of those things that's stuck with me."

Harry watched her intently, soaking her in with those observant eyes. She could see him making connections in his head, fitting puzzle pieces of her in his head. The thought made (Y/N) want to squirm. At the same time she was itching to know what kind of picture he was threading of her, she dreaded to know any kind of detail.

"What did I tell you, though?" she started, changing the subject with her gaze falling from him, "Soup is good all the time—even in the summer."

Nodding his head, Harry pursed his lips. "Today, I will allow you to be right. Jus' today, though."

Sinking into the moment, she allowed a peal of laughter to fall from her lips. Harry looked at her with a hidden smile. his teeth keeping him from fully grinning even if (Y/N) swore she could see that kind of amusement in his eyes.

—————

Fran🫧

guess what !!!

Sipping on her purple juice, (Y/N) read her text messages before she would commit to her post-pilates shower for the morning.

what !!!???

A beat passed while (Y/N) swiped to another app, a video of a decadent dessert recipe on her screen. Francesca didn't wait very long to respond, the notification getting (Y/N)'s eyes to widen and her immediate rerouting to her message thread.

Fran🫧

im on a flight to Paris rn :)

Sitting up straight from where she was lounging on her bed, (Y/N) typed back an immediate response.

are you serious right now????

ur joking right

In response, a selfie of Francesca came through, her smiling face backed by the pristine leather of her private jet with her favorite pajama set adoring her torso.

Francesca stop

youre kidding right :(

Fran🫧

im not joking!!!!

I wanted to visit you !!! its been almost a month (Y/N):( I missed you!!!!

(Y/N) was practically thrumming with excitement. She hadn't realized how much she missed her best friend until she was presented with the opportunity to be reunited with her.

when are you landing!!!!!!

if you can we need to do dinner or something!

Fran🫧

ofc we do ! I'll text u when I land and when I get to my place and then I'll see what im doing and if im not too jet lagged

Emma was also thinking about coming this weekend too but last I checked she was seeing what stavros is doing

bc shes obsessed rn

(Y/N) huffed out laughter at her message. She missed Emma too, more than she expected to considering Emma hadn't even known she was on her way out before she had booked her flight.

at least she's happy I guess sufhsufhsu

im so excited to see you ive miss u so much!!!!!!

When Francesca's response bubble didn't immediately pop up, (Y/N) locked her phone, flouncing out of her room with a bubbling grin. Pulling open her bedroom door, she saw Harry cleaning up the kitchen from the morning's breakfast before her pilates class, his head whipping up to catch her emergence.

"Harry, guess what!"

"What?" he asked, swiping a cloth across the counter.

"Fran is coming to visit," (Y/N) rushed out, "She's on a flight right now!"

"Francesca?" he asked, his movements slowing as he looked at her with raised brows.

"Yes! She just texted me," she explained, her grin sticking to her cheeks, "And, Emma might be able to come out this weekend."

It was practically visible the way the gears in his head began turning. Apprehension appeared as he leant against the lip of the counter. "That's exciting," he granted her, "What plans do y'have with her?"

That was her security speaking then. He was the one with thinned lips and narrow eyes.

"I'm not sure yet," she said, gesturing with her smoothie and phone in hand, "I'm just thinking about dinner with Fran when she lands, but I'm sure if Emma's able to make it out, we'll want to go out together."

He gave her a slow nod, things working behind the scenes as he blinked at her. "Okay."

The longer that beat of silence rang on, (Y/N) felt unease creep in. Maybe Harry didn't trust her as much as she thought.

She'd been doing so well since he helped her out of that rut those first few days, but maybe he worried bringing her friends back into the equation would elicit something he hoped they left back in New York. She wondered if he had those pictures of her in mind, the runny mascara and panic she had in the bathroom of the gallery.

Leveling her energy, she made a point to meet his contemplative gaze. "I promise I'll behave. I won't cause any trouble or anything."

Shaking his head, Harry dismissed her in a moment. "'M not worried about that, (Y/N)."

Unable to school her features, she felt her eyes widen and posture straighten. She couldn't think of a time when she wasn't anticipated as the trouble maker.

"You're not?"

Blinking out of his head, Harry shook his head again, meeting her eyes with intention. "Don't worry about me, okay?" he told her, voice gentle in the space between, "Its m'job to think of all the scenarios and everything, but 's not something y'need to concern yourself with. Let me do that, you jus' have fun."

Though she was a bit dumbstruck, unable to really understand how to move forward without that kind of expectation following her, she still nodded her head. Nonetheless, even if Harry wasn't looking for that kind of promise, she would give it to herself. She wasn't going to stir any kind of drama or trouble.

She'd make Harry proud.

—————

Francesca, leaning over the dinner table with a makeup free face and her travel clothes on her form, gave (Y/N) a sly smile.

"So," she started, her voice low as if Harry wasn't already two rooms away from their conversation, privacy being the only other person joining their table, "your bodyguard."

Nodding her head, (Y/N) plucked a piece of brie from the cheese board they were sharing, "Yeah?"

"Did something happen?" Francesca pressed, something glimmering in her eyes.

A pinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?"

Rolling her brown eyes, Francesca gave her an incredulous look. "Even I've seen those pics of you two at the Eiffel Tower"—honestly, (Y/N) didn't even know there were photos of them together then, having deleted her socials the day after the letter was posted to the penthouse—"and walking in here feels less like your penthouse and more like a... nest for you too. You even line your shoes up next to one another."

Taken aback, (Y/N) could feel the way her features screwed up at Fran's remarks. "You're silly, Fran," she said, focusing on the cracker she was loading with cheese.

Francesca shook her head and stood her ground, light amusement curling her lips. "You're lying, and you know it."

"I'm not, though," (Y/N) countered, covering her mouth as she took a bite of the crumbly cracker.

Shrugging, Francesca focused on her own overloaded cracker. "Maybe it's him then," she offered, looking at (Y/N) with that sly curve to her lips, "I don't know, all I'm saying is that the vibes are very different from the last time I saw you—and him. Every time he walks out here, it's like he doesn't even see me. He's only looking at you."

"He's my bodyguard," (Y/N) stated, as if Fran could forget the fact. "He checks on me."

"Checking you out," Francesca emphasized, hiding her teasing smile behind a sip of red wine.

It was (Y/N)'s turn to roll her eyes, trying her best to bite back her laughter. "You're so annoying," she teased, "I should've known you were going to say something stupid like that."

"Whatever," Francesca dismissed, reaching for her phone, "I want to make a post on my Story with you, though. So, pose cute with your wine or something. People are going to go crazy, knowing you're alive outside of blurry pics."

"People think I'm dead?" (Y/N) laughed, sipping from her wine before fluffing her hair.

Fran shook her head, swiping through her camera to find the right preset. "You'd be surprised how man people actually believe grocery store magazines. Even Damien Moore reached out to Toriana to see if she knew where you were, it's so weird."

"Damien?" she blanched, features screwing up at the mention of his name.

"That was my reaction too," Fran shared, waving her phone in her hand, "I was hoping we'd never have to hear from him again after what happened, but obviously he loves drama."

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) couldn't agree more. Definitely the worst of the boys her father tried to set her up with.

When Francesca held her phone up, the camera facing them, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to pose. She cradled her glass of wine and got in close to Fran, curling her lips into a warm smile. The buttery lighting of the apartment with the shimmering Paris night leaking in through the windows, (Y/N) felt pretty when she glanced at the reflection.

Over the edge of Fran's phone, she could see Harry stepping out of the hallway, his steps silent. Though she tried not to pay attention, she couldn't help but to notice the way he really didn't allow his eyes to trace anywhere but her, even when they were doing something as innocent as posing for photos.

Even when Francesca lowered her phone and went about prepping the photo for posting, Harry didn't step away too quickly. He lingered, the warmth of his gaze on her.

Surely, he could just be checking on her, noticing how quiet the room became when they started whispering about him and going silent for the photos, but (Y/N) found herself not resenting the other option Francesca presented.

She didn't hate the idea of Harry looking at her just for the sake of looking at her.

Whatever that was supposed to mean for her.

—————

flâner means to wander aimlessly around a city.

a little change of scenery and time together before we get into some more fun stuff! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any thoughts or ideas let me know!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry au #bodyguard harry #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #bodyguard harry styles #love on tour #pleasing #harrys house #as it was #satellite

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sl-vega · 16 days

Text

✧.* DREAMS LOST, LOVE FOUND

pairing: Chigiri Hyouma x [IDOL!] Reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, oneshot, strangers to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, pre-bluelock au, canon compliant

synopsis: in which two former geniuses bond over their potentially lost dreams (or in which two strangers develop feelings by making fun of cheesy news articles about themselves)

CW: potentially ooc chigiri, possible innaccuracies with vocal chord paralysis conditions/symptoms

"(Y/N) (L/N): A Bright Star that Burned out too Quickly"

"Idol (Y/N) Retiring?!"

"ASRUN's (L/N)'s Career Over?! Get the latest scoop now!"

You scrolled through the magazines in the waiting room. So many cheesy tabloids talking about your latest concert, and possibly last. You froze up on stage, and your voice just didn't work. The gossip columns came up with so many reasons, ranging from fairly possible to completely bizarre. But they all seemed to come to the same conclusion.

Your career was over.

Ended, finished, decimated, completely and utterly over.

And deep down, you knew that. The doctors said that there was a chance that you could recover, even if it didn't occur naturally, surgery was always an option.

You had recently been diagnosed with vocal chord paralysis, which prohibited your ability to talk and sing. And no singing meant no concerts.

No concerts meant no more performing.

No more performing meant that you couldn't be an idol anymore.

You were told your worsened condition had something to do with your hectic rehearsal schedule, and how you pushed yourself to the point of self-harm during practice. Suzuki, the nurse that had been assigned to assist you, insisted that you come to the clinic for weekly check-ups and vocal warm ups.

Your agency managed to fund all of this because they wanted you back performing with the rest of your group members as soon as possible.

But you weren't sure if you could even continue to perform. You could deny it all you wanted, but you weren't in shape to be an idol anymore.

So here you are, rotting in a waiting room, waiting for your parents to come and get you. Once a musical sensation, once hailed as the pride of the idol industry.

Now I'm nothing more than a helpless patient.

You leaned back in your chair, a random sports article in your hand. You hadn't paid any mind to what it was about when you picked it up, all you knew was that it wasn't about you and your doomed career, and that was all you needed.

But your parents weren't coming anytime soon, and you needed to kill some time, so reading a couple pages wouldn't hurt. You glanced at the front cover. It appeared to be some local newspaper that covered soccer teams in the prefecture.

"Chigiri Hyouma: The Red Leopard!"

The front page had those words printed out in a vibrant pink font. You snorted, it would be one thing if this was about some world-class pro, but all this fuss over a high school kid? The picture on the front page wasn't the best either, it was a blur of bright red hair and you could make out what seemed to be a jersey.

But you couldn't discern a clear image of his face though. So naturally, out of curiosity, you had to flip the page.

Chigiri Hyouma huh? You heard that name mentioned somewhere before. You remembered passing by a few girls a couple of months ago that couldn't seem to shut up about him.

Please, he's probably just some amateur that happens to be somewhat good looking, there's no way he's actually all that-

But, it certainly wouldn't hurt to read about him a little more...

And so you did just that, flipping to the next page due to your insatiable curiosity about this Chigiri fellow.

Let's see what you're all about Mr. Red Leopard-

You finally flipped the page not expecting much, but then you were greeted by a very flattering image of the very subject that peaked your interest.

Holy fuck he's really pretty

Luscious red locks, bright pink eyes that you could get lost in, gentle, feminine features yet he still looked so god damn handsome?!

Your eyes widened as a blush crept up to your face. What was this guy doing playing soccer?! He could've easily been a model, or an idol, or a movie star, you weren't even that pretty what the actual fu-

You had to stop your train of thought. You weren't seriously crushing on a photo of some stranger were you?

Yet, against your better judgment, you continued reading the article, it listed a few details such as his stats, position, and his high school among other.

You were consuming all of this information at an oddly fast rate. Why was this guy so captivating to you?

Before you knew it you had sped through the article. And you had somehow memorized everything on those few pages.

God, I'm pathetic...

You rubbed your temples and sighed, you put the article down, and you were about to read a different magazine about something other than your new found infatuation, but as your hand was about to reach to some political newspaper, your gaze quickly shifted to another photo of a familiar red head.

Another article about him?

Looks like someone's local celebrity...

You moved your hand away from the previous paper you were about to pick up, and you exchanged the current article in your hand for the other one about your newest subject of interest.

Surely one more magazine about him wouldn't hurt....

The front cover was a clearer photo of Chigiri, but it wasn't the happiest. It was a picture of him leaning against one of his teammates for support as they escorted him off the field.

"The Red Leopard's Career: OVER?!"

It was from the same local paper that you were reading earlier, seemed the editors had a soft spot for him.

"Chigiri Hyouma damages his leg in his most recent match?! Further statements are awaited from his family, could this be the end of the genius speedster?"

You sighed at the writer's attempt to dramatize the situation, surely Chigri was in pain. Having something you're so passionate about being taken away my your own physical limitations. You definitely knew the feeling.

The feeling of your dream being snatched right before your eyes. The feeling of a critical condition with some complicated-sounding name being the only thing keeping you away from your goal.

He's just like me...

Wait- what were you thinking? First you ogle at a bunch of photos at him, now you're coming up with a bunch of weird parasocial fantasies about how the two of you actually have some things in common?!

I need to get a grip...

You absentmindedly flipped to the next page of article, somewhere you had made peace in the back of your mind about your attraction to the boy. You were like some little school girl, crushing on some cute actor or model that you saw in fashion magazines.

Of course you were soon snapped out of that trance by an unfamiliar voice.

"Didn't know I was such a big deal that a world-class idol would be reading about me."

You lifted your head to the source of the voice, standing in front to you was a young man around your age leaning against a crutch.

Of course before you noticed any of that, you saw the same red hair, gorgeous pink eyes, and soft features that you had been religiously staring at for the past hour.

Holy shit it's actually him.

Holy shit, he knows who I am

HOLY SHIT CHIGIRI HYOUMA KNOWS WHO I AM-

You had a whirlwind of thoughts about the situation. And you had made a countless amount of observations about him. His hair was longer than it was in the pictures, he looked a lot leaner too, but taller as well.

You were probably shamelessly checking him out right about now, but who could blame you? If it wasn't for the crutch, and the evident exhaustion on his face, you would've thought he was an angel rather than a patient.

And so you did what you always did when confronted by an incredibly attractive person.

You panicked.

Am I checking him out? I'm probably checking him out, I should look away. But what if that's rude?! Should I continue making eye contact? Or should I avoid it?! WHY DIDN'T THEY TEACH ME HOW TO TALK TO BOYS WHEN I WAS A TRAINEE?!-

"It's rude to stare you know."

He had nonchalantly said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Oh god, even his voice was gorgeous

"Sorry..."

You muttered, looking down at the floor, averting his vivid eyes using any means necessary.

Great, now he probably thinks I'm a creep, nice going...

"Nah it's fine, sorry if I startled you when I came over, I recognized you 'cuz my sister's a fan, and you looked so engrossed in that article about me so I was pretty curious."

You simply muttered a quiet "Oh" in return.

Why am I like this?! He's trying to make an effort to talk to me, and I'm not even contributing at all!

He moved closer to you, he sat himself down on one of the seats close to you, and pulled out another sports magazine with his face on it.

"I never quite liked that one author that you're reading right now, has a habit of exaggerating the least important details and not giving the full story."

He handed the paper he was holding to you.

"This one's one of my personal favorites."

He smiled and handed the magazine to you. Your hands brushed, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His hands were really soft and gentle.

You took the article from his hand and opened it, your eyes greeted by a huge headlines in all caps; "Chigiri; RISING STAR OF THE FOOTBALL WORLD!"

You couldn't help but snort at the title, these editors were really something else.

"Cheesy I know, but it's better than most."

You giggled again, flipping through the pages of the booklet in your hands. You had pointed to a paragraphs that you had found amusing, to which Chigiri had said "Not everyone is a famous idol you know, some of us locals have to take whatever we can get!"

Next thing you knew, the two of you were talking like two old friends, giggling over silly comments and misconceptions that the media had about the two of you.

You didn't know how, but much time had passed, and quite frankly, you didn't care, Chigiri was charming, and rather fun to talk to.

Now, you were showing him a tabloid about some dating rumour about you and some model that your agency had done a collab with.

"Seriously? One slightly suggestive photo and now they think the two of you are hooking up? Wouldn't your managers be scrambling to cover that up? Doesn't it ruin your "idol" image or somethin'?"

"The higher ups at my job were trying to cover it up before realizing that this sort of publicity was actually pretty positive for my image."

You laughed as you pointed to a few more photos of you and said model. It was nice, being able to laugh about this with someone, it was nice, letting the pain go away, even for a little while. But, Chigiri was a lot more than just a distraction at this point.

Suddenly your phone buzzed.

"Sorry, let me check this real quick."

You took your phone out of your pocket, and it turned out that your father was outside of the clinic waiting for you. You tried to hide the disappointment on your face. You didn't want to leave just yet, not when you were finally making some progress with Chigiri.

But, your dad definitely wouldn't take it well if you wanted to stay out later with a boy, a new boy no less.

You sighed, shoving the device back into your pocket.

"I take it that you need to leave now?" Chigiri asked, maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, or maybe you were just super delusional, but it almost sounded like he was disappointed that you had to leave.

"Yeah, sorry..."

"It was nice meeting you, by the way."

He held out his hand.

"Chigiri Hyouma, but you probably know that by now."

You were confused by the gesture at first, you certainly did know his name by now, so why was he doing this?

Oh right, I was too busy crushing on him, so we never formerly introduced ourselves...

You placed your hand in his, reciprocating the handshake.

"(L/N) (Y/N)."

He smiled as you got up, your hand still intertwined with his, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and you almost felt your heart jump out of your body."

You really have me under your spell, Chigiri Hyouma...

#chigiri x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri hyoma #bluelock x reader #bluelock x y/n #bluelock x you #bluelock #reader insert

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babygirlispunk · 1 year

Text

Summer Fling - PART TWO

Pedro Pascal x f!Reader

Summary: lady luck is on your side on a night out with your friends and a chance encounter fuelled by liquid courage giving you a sense of DeJa'Vu.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, alcohol consumption, mentions of hard drugs (reader not consuming), a forced kiss (not from ped), swearing and female degrading words.

Word count: 3.2k

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It had been two weeks since New Years. You still couldn't believe what had happened, that you had your New Years kiss with him. You play over and over again how intense it was. The feeling of his lips, nose, hands and body imprinted on your brain. His taste, his smell, those eyes...

You tried not to become obsessive over it but it was hard when you had never experience a kiss like that before. Something so simple but now your expectations had risen tenfold.

The kicker was that you had even made it onto celebrity news briefly, solidifying that it really happened. Turns out there were some people in the crowd that had taken pictures and videos of you and Pedro but to your luck you were unidentifiable and didn't have to deal with any online harassment.

Not wanting to upset yourself you didn't read the comments and gossip articles, knowing the internet can be cruel. Though Syria did take it on for herself to read some and show you the nice ones. For the most part people were just curious about who you were, if you and Pedro had any history and a lot speculation about your age.

Despite being in your later 20's, there was some people bashing Pedro for getting with someone much younger than him. It annoyed you a little. There may have been a 20 or so year age gap, you were both adults having a harmless fun pash. Hopefully this wouldn't put a stain on his career.

"These girls acting like they wouldn't be over the moon if they were in your positions." Syria reassures you. "I literally seen a 14 years old thirsting over him. 14. Years. Old!"

You chuckle at her frustration. "Who cares, they'll forget about the whole thing in a couple days."

"He's still in Australia, by the way...." she sing songs.

"Have you been stalking him?"

"Someone's got to." she shrugs and you give her a playful shove on the shoulder. "There's always a chance you could bump into him again."

Rolling your eyes, you get back to your show on the TV and Syria continues scrolling through her phone.

The weekend had rolled around and your friendship group has a night out planned. You all meet up in the CBD and make your way together to a hidden rooftop bar that you all frequent. It's popular enough that there's a good amount of people but low key enough that you're not packed like sardines.

it's edging close to 9pm and the sun is setting over the horizon. Lingering heat from the summer sun is simmering in the air and you thank yourself for choosing to wear a simple, short, halter neck dress and a pair of heel boots while dancing along with the live DJ.

Double parked with glasses of your favourite alcohol, taking sips of each as they spill a bit while you move along with the music and getting buzzed. You're giggling and smiling ear to ear with Syria and Nicola as the dawning sky turns to night.

"Shots, we need shots!" shouts Syria running over to the bar followed by Nicola. You follow suit chugging the last of your two drinks so you can join in with the shots.

You place your empty glasses on the bar and watch as the bar tender pours into the shot glasses for your group. You focus on the bottle and see the bold 'Vodka' text written on the bottle's label and begin contemplating whether you are willing for the night to turn wild or not. Though Nicola doesn't give you a choice and shoves the glass into your hand.

'Cin cin' is chanted out in your group and you all simultaneously throw your heads back, swallowing it whole. Another glass is shoved into your hand.

"Cin cin!"

Another gulp and you feel your throat burning followed by the warming sensation travelling down your chest.

"God that's awful" coughs out Nicola, her face screwed up and disgusted from the vodka.

"Gets the job done quicker and cheaper." Syria calls out.

As everyone hangs around chatting loudly over the music, you feel a soft brush rubs along your back and something familiar invades your senses. A scent. That sweet musky scent. Where have you smelt that before? You try to focus on the familiarity but the Vodka is working its way to your brain quicker than you can comprehend.

Before you can look around your hand is snatched by Syria, Nicola and a few other girls as they lead you back on to the dance floor. The more you move the more you feel the mixed alcohol taking effect over your body. The girls are all dancing close together, hanging off each other and sharing affectionate hugs and kisses on the cheek as you drunkenly announce your love for each other. You know your group is gathering some attention, like second nature you can feel eyes burning into you no matter what state of mind you are in. Feeling a little on edge.

Some guys close in on your friends just as you feel a pair of hands slither their way onto your waist. It feels icky and you can feel your body stiffening.

You spin around to see some guy with blonde hair around your age giving you a sloppy smirk. Through blurry vision you see his blue eyes but his iris's are blown out. Without much warning he goes down to kiss you, taking you by surprise as your eyes stay open in shock. His grip hardens on your waist and forces his tongue into your mouth, pressing his face into yours and that's when you can taste it. Whatever drug he had can consumed chars your mouth and the vile taste makes you want to vomit.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you firmly push him off you releasing the kiss he looks at you dumbfounded.

"What the fuck man?" you almost spit out the words as the taste lingers and you wipe his saliva from your mouth. "You taste like shit!"

"Its just coke you bitch." his words are slurred.

All you can do is give him your most confused and disgusted face till he turns around and walks off with his mate towards to the toilet, probably off to have another bump. You check on your friends and they seem to be more successful with their hook ups.

Eager to be rid of the bitter taste you get to the bar and order a water and chug it but is useless. You order another drink along with another shot of vodka instead in hope the alcohol can burn the taste away. Another body joins next to you as you wait for your drink to be made. You peer in your peripheral vision to make sure its not the same guy but you see brunette hair and internally sigh in relief.

He orders a drink as well, waiting beside you.

"Hey there." The guy next to you says in an American accent.

You turn your attention to him, everything a blur you only just make out a nice side smile accompanied by a dimple on his right cheek. His energy was different right off the bat, much calmer and nicer, but you couldn't be bothered with a potential repeat like before.

Your drinks is placed in front of you, tapping your card to pay, sculling the shot and lever yourself off the bar. "Sorry not interested."

Drink in hand, you head towards an empty booth to catch a breather. As you pass the guy, your nose is again engulfed by that smell. He must've been the one who passed you earlier. Not thinking much of it other than just a guy with nice cologne you plop yourself down on the seat to people watch. Well the best you could in your state and in dim lighting.

Sipping your drink and looking around, but like a sniffer dog following a scent hot on its trail, your eyes fall back on the intoxicatingly good smelling guy. He moved his way on to a table, sitting on a stool talking to his friend across him. His blurry silhouette starts to become more detailed the more you stare at him.

The messy brown hair, the glasses, puppy eyes, hooked nose, pouty lip... firm arms...

(Highly recommend listening to Glue - BICEP for the next part, for the vibe and bonus points if you listen to the Nelly Furtado remix *chefs kiss*)

The brunette peers your way mid conversation and you lock eyes. You're not sure if its the weighty bass of the song the DJ is playing that makes your heart beat heavy, the sweat from the hot summer air causing goosebumps to form along your skin or the buzz of alcohol but you feel a lightheaded-ness consume you as realisation sets in.

And judging by his face, a subtle eyebrow raise and a cheeky smile he's trying to hold back, he knows you realised too.

You scull the rest of your drink for that last bit of liquid courage, jump out of your chair and bee line to Pedro, his eyes never leaving you.

"Actually I'm very interested. Wanna dance?" you blurt out and shove your hand out for him to grab, slightly embarrassed that was the first thing you could think of saying to him and his friend giggles near by. But that embarrassment quickly subsides as he smiles wide, making his eye crinkle slightly.

"I'd love to dance." He excuses himself to his friend and they nod back. Placing his hand, entwining your fingers together it sends an electrical jolt through you that makes you inhale deep.

You lead the way to the dance floor gently pushing your way through people to get to the middle. You swivel on your heel to face him and a sense of DeJa'Vu overwhelms you. The loud bass-y music pounding around you, the crowded space, eyes locked and your crazy beating heart, you're almost frozen on the spot because you can't believe this is happening again. Like as if you've dreamed up this fantasy to relive the euphoric feeling that was New Years Eve.

Pedro starts dancing to encourage you out of your frozen state. He starts bouncing and flailing his hands around making you giggle and you start to dance more rhythmically. He looked goofy but you really appreciated his self-confidence to not care how he was dancing.

Dance lights are flashing rapidly making it look like everything is in slow motion and as your moving around you can really feel all the alcohol you had consumed, warming you up and giving you a new sense of confidence and cheekiness. Pedro starts moving more rhythmically and grabs your hands, bringing them to his mouth and kisses them.

Letting the music take over you both, like magnets, you're pulled together connecting bodies once again intensifying the vibe and the yearning at your core. His hands pull yours around his back so you're hugging him and his placed his arms around your neck. As he leans in for the kiss, you take the opportunity to be playful.

Turning around but not losing the space between you two, you lean your back on him. You keep dancing but purposefully rub your ass against him and his hands are quick to slide down your arms onto your waist firmly flushing his body to yours as you feel something growing against your backside.

Pedro dips his head into the crook of your neck, planting kisses along it making you rest your head on him, staring at the starry sky. He moans your name into your ear and lowers his left hand to the hem of your dress, circling your upper thigh, building a pulse down below and making you hum excitedly.

The fact he remembered not just your face but your name as well made you want you to kiss him so bad but you were having to much fun playing with him and instead pressed harder against him.

"Mierda.." he breathes out and nips at the skin of your neck, sliding his righthand from your hip to your breast and groping a hand full. "Putting on a show for your friends are we?"

Your eyes snap forward not realising how into it you were to see Syria and Nicola and a few other friends a little ways ahead of you. Most look confused but Syria is excitedly throwing a double thumbs at you with a cheesiest smile her cheeks can handle and mouthing 'get in' to you.

You burst out laughing, maybe a little too hard, struggling to keep control of yourself and nearly toppling over. Maybe you shouldn't have had that last drink.

"Why don't we take a break, get some air. I think that alcohol is catching up to you." He hooks an arm around you for balance and leads you away from the dance floor back to the high table.

He places himself on the stool and gestures you to stand between his legs and you follow. Head heavy and dizzy you slump your forehead in his neck and nuzzle in, inhaling a deep breathe of his scent. You are met with a warm embrace as he wraps his arms around you and you feel like you could fall asleep right then and there.

"I didn't think I'd see you again."

You slowly raise your head up to look at him through heavy lids. "Me either... Honestly I didn't believe it happened untill seeing myself plastered on the internet."

"I hope you didn't read what they had to say." he looks at you a little worried, brows pinching together and enhancing his puppy eyes.

"Nah, I just tried to ignore it."

"Good girl."

Such simple words but they sounded like music to your ears. Music that reverberated in your body making you feel like your body belong to him and couldn't go a second longer away from his touch.

Closing in your face to his, you ghost your lips over his, so close his moustache tickled you lip. He moves a hand to your jaw line and strokes your cheek, you're not sure why he's holding back now, especially after essentially dry fucking on the dance floor.

"I just need to make sure before I completely give in to you... how old are you."

You snort. "You ask me that after feeling me up?"

"I know... My publicist was concerned when those pictures got out and she reminded me the legal drinking age is 18 here. Even 21 is too young for me."

He's looking at your lips and you can see he's struggling to hold back. You know he knows you're old enough for this to not be weird but you give him peace of mind.

"I can assure you I am older than that. Nothing questionable going on here." You reassure him with a smile and within a second his lips are planted on yours, his hand gliding its way to the nape of your neck to pull you in.

As soon as it begins, your kiss ends, being interrupted by a gyrating voice you've heard before. "Hey man, sorry to jump in but are you Pedro Pascal?"

You both turn to face the male. Its the coke guy from before. He squints at you still cut from your previous interaction and you just roll your eyes.

"Yes I am." He gives the guy a courteous smile but keeps a firm hold on your hip bringing you in close hoping the guy takes the hint that he is preoccupied right now.

"Sick I thought so, my girlfriend is massive fan and I have her on facetime right now, can you say hi to her? Her names Jenna." He stammers, chewing aggressively on a piece of gum.

That asshole.

Pedro politely grabs the phone screen being shoved in his face and talks to the girl on the other side. You look at the guy straight in the eyes and notice a glistening sheen form on his forehead not sure if its from the drugs or he's shitting himself. He's eyeing you back begging you not to do anything but if you where her, you would want to know if your boyfriend was a cheating dog.

"Hey Jenna..." you say into the phone and his mouth drops and he goes pales. "As a girls girl, you deserve to know that your boyfriend is a cheating coke head."

You hear a shocked gasp come from the screen and funnily enough Pedro turns the phone to face you, amusement in his face.

"Yeah, he forced a kiss on me earlier-" You feel Pedro's fist clench on your hip, "-and then called me a bitch when I pushed him away."

The poor girl looks devastated and begins apologising profusely.

He turns the phone back on to himself. "Don't apologies darling, dump his a-" Before he can finish the phone is snatched from his hand, the guy frantically hangs up the call and looks at the both of you pissed off.

"Who do you think you are? And you're just some slut hooking up with this old man."

Pedro's body shifts beside you and before it escalates you place your hand on his should holding him down on the stool before turning your attention back to the asshole looking at him dead in the eye.

"Fuck off mate." you spit it out, doing your best to get him to back down. After a few seconds he finally backs seeing you hold your stance and Pedro's angry face, brows pulled together and tight lipped.

As he storms off, you notice some people around you had notice the commotion and were staring. Some were already taking pictures and videos because of who was involved.

You felt guilty that you had drawn attention around Pedro when he was flying under the radar and enjoying the night. You look at him and he realises that his night out has ended as it was likely people would start crowding around him.

His friend shuffles over to him and they start exchanging words.

'...probably go'

'right...'

'...do you need'

'be fine...'

'...stay'

He manoeuvres you so he can get off the seat, you expect this to be good bye.

He dips his head to your ear. "I have to go before I get horded. I'm not expecting anything from you but would you like to come back to my hotel with me and we can get to know each other without the distractions?"

No matter the situation, he was still polite as ever.

You nod your head a little too vigorously and it makes him chuckle, giving you his hand to take. All eyes on you two, you make your way to the elevator with your head down and Pedro using his body the best he can to shield you from onlookers.

Once the elevator doors closes, he lets out a big sigh. Leaning against the metal wall he pulls you in to rest against his chest and you do so diligently. Using his nose, he nudges your head to move aside and give him better access to your neck to peck at, arms hugging you securely making sure you're not going anywhere and leaving him this time.

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check out my recs list for stories written by people with actual talent ♡

A/N: can't believe part one got to 200 notes wha wha what!? ily a milly

Tags: @mingeniee @onlyrealjoy @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader

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mariacallous · 3 months

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It was the literary scandal of the decade, the ultimate betrayal and, it turned out, the end of Truman Capote’s career. Published in Esquire in November 1975, “La Côte Basque 1965”, an excerpt from Capote’s then-forthcoming novel Answered Prayers, saw the celebrated writer share the innermost secrets (and most scandalous gossip) entrusted to him by his beloved Swans, the wealthy and glamorous group of high-society women that included Babe Paley, Slim Keith, Gloria Guinness, Lee Radziwill, Marella Agnelli and CZ Guest.

Visceral in its revelations of substance abuse, sexual assault, a murder cover-up, a graphic description of extra-marital period sex and, to top it off, bestiality, the article was a sensation for all the wrong reasons. It saw Capote deserted by his closest friends and shunned from the New York clique he had yearned to be a part of growing up – and, against the odds, had managed to infiltrate as an adult thanks to the success of his novels In Cold Blood and Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Capote’s questionable actions (and the irresistible drama they precipitated) form the backbone of Ryan Murphy’s long-awaited Feud, inspired by Laurence Leamer’s bestselling 2021 book, Capote’s Women. An all-star cast will bring the man and his muses back to life when the Gus Van Sant-directed series premieres this month on FX in the US, but what was the real-life fallout from the publication of “La Côte Basque 1965” like for Capote and co?

“He never recovered from it,” says Ebs Burnough, director of the 2021 documentary The Capote Tapes, a five-year discovery project that saw him uncover hours of audio footage of Capote, and which gives the most thorough insight into the flawed figure to date. “[These were] friendships born and nurtured over 20-something years. All of a sudden, not one but all of his friends – who had been like his family, because he didn’t really have any family – were not speaking to him; there was literally nowhere for him to go. He was alone drinking, and the phone stopped ringing. He was a man alone on an island.”

Described by the New York Times as “the high-society temple of French cuisine”, La Côte Basque – just off Fifth Avenue and a stone’s throw from The Plaza – was a fine-dining eatery as famous for its juicy gossip as it was for its succulent Coeur de Filet Périgourdine. No one, however, dared to write about what was said and done there – until Capote. While his ostracising may seem like an obvious consequence for spilling society’s sordid secrets, Capote was flawed by the outrage.

Before publication, he boasted to People that he was planning on assassinating his characters with a pen instead of a gun: “There’s the handle, the trigger, the barrel, and, finally, the bullet. And when that bullet is fired from the gun, it’s going to come out with a speed and power like you’ve never seen – wham!”

Success was, in his head, assured, as Capote had been open about writing “La Côte Basque 1965”, bragging about the stories he would tell, continues Burnough. “He was working on that piece for over 20 years, so in his mind he didn’t anticipate the fall out because all of them knew he was working on it.” Upon the outrage, Capote was, “totally abandoned but also indignant”, he continues. “He even said, ‘Hey! What did they expect from me? I’m a writer!’”

Capote had form. “Remember, this was something he had done with Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” explains Burnough. “When you think about it, Holly Golightly is essentially a call girl, yet with Audrey Hepburn [playing her], and because it was so beautifully written, lots of New York socialites were saying, ‘Holly was based on me!’ There’s [even] a quote in The Capote Tapes where Babe’s daughter [Kate] says, ‘Mummy was so excited to be immortalised by such a famous author.’ So, I think he was certainly expecting great praise.”

Babe Paley was Capote’s most aggrieved victim of “La Côte Basque 1965”. In it, Slim Keith’s alias, Lady Ina Coolbirth, reveals to the fictionalised version of Capote, PB Jones, the story that Paley is said to have told Capote about catching her husband, CBS head Bill, in bed with another woman. When Capote rang the Paley household to see what they thought of “La Côte Basque”, Bill is said to have lied, claiming that it was thrown out before either of them could read it; a distraught Babe, who had read it, and who considered Capote her closest confidante, had terminal lung cancer at the time of its publication and never spoke to Capote again before her death in 1978.

Such dismissal of his work would have affected Capote, says Burnough, but the fallout from the Swans leaving him would have been even worse. “Babe Paley was his North Star. She was everything he aspired to be and everything his mother aspired to be. [His mother] had always wanted to be a socialite, so his obsession came from her wanting but not being a part of that world, and then abandoning him as a child. There’s a lot of mother psychology there.”

It makes total sense that Babe Paley was the victim of Capote’s worst betrayal, says Lisa Pomerantz, the New York-based brand expert with a lifelong obsession with Capote and his era of social commentators. “She was the one that opened up the most to him. He took total advantage of her because the others – Lee Radziwill, CZ Guest [et al] – were always more guarded,” she says. “The question is, did he do it knowingly? He was a tortured soul, mostly because of his relationship with his mother – that combined with his natural obsession with this aspirational life and Babe and Bill being the epitome of it.”

Having been sent from New Orleans to Alabama to be raised by relatives after his parents’ divorce, Capote is said to have been a lonely, introverted child searching for a sense of belonging. So why, having infiltrated the glitzy New York scene as a bonafide player, did he blow it all up?

In tandem with craving acceptance, psychologist Carolyn Mair muses that, deep down, Capote resented the world he had managed to become a part of. “People warmed to him and wanted to protect him as he projected an identity of both child and woman, yet his wit could be razor sharp. His ability to remember conversations verbatim made him a good source of gossip,” she says. “Yet as his psychological problems worsened, it seems reasonable to assume that his judgement also worsened.” Shocking others, she adds, “can also be a way of getting attention”.

The backlash from other circles would also have been keenly felt by Capote, continues Mair. “The Swans were the high society who lived aspirational lives and were the envy of women across the States and elsewhere,” she says. “Ordinary people would have read about these women and their lifestyles in the press and fashion magazines and would relate to them as if they were also their friends. The publication of ‘La Côte Basque 1965’ would likely have triggered a shocked sense of betrayal amongst the readers of popular and fashion press at the time.”

Perhaps the most interesting upshot of the “La Côte Basque 1965” scandal, though? The ways in which it laid the groundwork for tabloid culture, says Burnough. “This was an era [in America] when no one even talked about the fact that Franklin Roosevelt was in a wheelchair, let alone the affairs people were having, let alone as graphically as Truman did. As the late, great John Richardson said, ‘[Capote] took the lid off a pile of shit’ and it started the exposé culture we have today. It was a real ‘gotcha!’ moment for the rich and famous.”

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rylanpratt · 2 years

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Dancing With The Stars - Week 5

Who: Rylan Pratt and Nate Jones ( @nate-jones ) Where: Dancing With The Stars Week 5 Live Show About: Rylan and Nate find out about the article spilling that Mel and Rylan’s dad Kennedy are having an affair, and Rylan takes drastic mesures. Mentioned: @kennedypratt @melinaxabrams

Something really weird was going on, Rylan could sense it in the air and this wasn’t just the usual pre show nerves radiating from the other contestants. Heading into the female make up room to see if they had some lip balm she could use quickly before everything kicked off she found three of the make up artists huddled around their phones talking in hushed voices. Clearly gossiping about something, except when Rylan came into their peripheral vision it all stopped instantly. Sheepish expressions on their faces the one who owned the phone shoved it into her back pocket, attempting to plaster a chill smile onto her face and utterly failing. Frowning slightly Rylan looked around to see the two other contestants who were in there were staring at her like she had a third eye, it made a weird sensation prickle at the back of her neck.

“What is going on?” Her voice was full of confused skepticism…clearly unnerved. She was used to people talking about her when she wasn’t there but this was something else. Like they knew something she didn’t, otherwise why would they have looked so weird when she’d appeared?

“Nothing! What do you need sweetie.” The make top artist replied brightly, pushing some hair out of her face in an attempt to look relaxed, glancing at one of the others sideways.

“Bullshit, what is going on?” The model doubled down, spinning around to face the two contestants behind her who’s stare was burning holes in her shoulder blades. “Do I have my skirt tucked into my underwear or something?” Snapping in an annoyed voice, a mix if nerves, too much red bull, and general stress making her less inclined to take any shit. It was then that one of the phones was passed across to her, her eyes landing on a photo of her father with Mel, a TMZ article. She only managed to read a couple of lines in before feeling nausea rise in her throat and anger press against the back of her eyes, hand starting to shake. What the fuck were they playing at. Betrayal, hurt, confusion, anger, upset, shocked, the mix of feelings the woman had bubbling up inside right now caused her to drop the phone onto the floor without caring about if it broke it. It took her maybe ten seconds to reach Nate’s dressing room but it felt like a million years, her breath coming out in snatched gasps, she burst in without knocking.

“Have you seen?” Rylan blurted out instantly, holding onto the door handle so tightly her knuckle was going white with the effort.

Nate was excited; they were in the top 5, and while he refused to read any kind of articles about them, he had a good feeling. Rylan was improving tremendously, he was doing okay, and they were heading towards another success. Maybe they wouldn't end up being first every single time- he knew that was unlikely- but he'd be damned if he didn't try. Just seeing Rylan's smile, knowing that he was helping her succeed was more than rewarding enough. Every single time he was there, he followed the exact same routine; warm up, get changed, allow the stylists their time with him to get him all ready for the show. His changing room was small- he wasn't expecting miracles, not when he was merely a dancer, and not the star of the show, but Nate didn't complain. He liked things this way, because nothing was overwhelming, everything was fairly simple and easy to understand. He was just finishing buttoning his shirt up when the door to his changing room burst open, and Rylan walked in, looking absolutely terrified. Or maybe there was something more there, a whole bunch of emotions tangled together. "What?" He asked, genuinely confused as he made his way over to Rylan, growing concerned by the moment. "Have I seen what? What's happening? Are you okay?" Worry for her was a natural state of being for Nate, and he wasted no time, gently taking her hand off the door handle. Another moment or two, and it certainly seemed like she would break it due to whatever was going on in her mind.

“They’re fucking!” Rylan blurted out with absolutely no context, not really sure how else she was meant to explain it. The thought of her dad being someone who cheated was almost too much for her to contend with right now, it cut her deep, her experience being cheated on made her furious that he could be the kind of person who would do that. Hand shaking she went over to Nate’s phone stabbing in the TMZ address that held the article about Mel and Kennedy, stomach twisting with disgust when it flashed up on the screen, thrusting it towards Nate. “They weren’t fucking here last week because they were away together. I feel like I’m going to be sick.” She muttered, hand going to her stomach as she swallowed, a pale shade of grey under all the make up she’d had put on her for the show. The thought of catching her father’s eye in the audience was making her want to run from the studio as fast as humanly possible, not doing their dance at all, but that wasn’t an option. Not when Nate had been putting so much effort into teaching her this week, well every week actually, but they were moments away from performing so bailing wasn’t an option. How could they be conducting an affair behind everyones backs but she wasn’t allowed to be openly dating the man she loved? It was hypocrisy at it’s finest and it was disgusting. No wonder Mel had been so dismissive with her over text the other day, she was no doubt far more busy destroying the Pratt family single handedly, that had to be a full time job. Knowing if she had scrolled further down the article she’d have seen private photos of the two of them was horrible, deterring her from reading more than the first two lines when she’d had the webpage in front of her. No one needed to see that kind of thing of their dad. “This is god damn fucking unbelievable.”

"What?" Nate asked, getting more confused at Rylan's explanation than anything else. What was going on? Who was fucking? It had to be someone close to her, given the way she seemed to be reacting, but not a single person came to his mind. Her parents? Someone close to them? Surely, that was absolutely fine? So he watched in confusion as she stormed over to his phone, opening it and pulling something up on the screen. "Oh-" his eyebrows slowly rose as he read the first few sentences of the news article, not daring to scroll any further. Rylan's reaction made sense, and for a moment there, Nate expected her to start throwing things, to start yelling, and that would have been completely understandable. "I'm sure it's just... just a misunderstanding, right? Can't be anything more than that." He tried to reason with her, and not just because they were due to go on the stage soon, and she needed to be calm and collected. No, that bit never mattered. Rylan mattered, her well-being mattered, and Nate was always going to put that first. He didn't want her to unravel, he didn't want her to fall apart completely because with everything happening, it might just be too much for her. "It's TMZ, right? They're just full of nonsensical rumors, something they've probably made up themselves just because they can."

Rylan wanted to believe Nate so badly, she was desperate to believe that he was correct about TMZ just being full of nonsensical rumors, but things were starting to slot into place in her head which was the most disturbing part. The two of them being ‘out of town’ the same weekend out of nowhere, Kennedy being there when Rylan woke up the morning after she’d tripped balls and argued with Mel, clearly the two of them had even more contact than the woman anticipated. It was more than professional. It was infuriating. Disgusting. Underhand. “Just…scroll down…the make up artists did.” She muttered in a quiet voice, throwing herself into the one char the room had unlike the sofa that was in hers. It really wasn’t fair how the professionals weren’t given as nice stuff as the celebrities but that wasn’t an issue for right now. “He knows about how I was cheated on in two god damn relationships and yet he just goes ahead and does exactly that to mom. It’s fucking horrible.” The knock on the door made head snap around to see a PA pop his head into the room, clearly surprised for a second to see both of them, before regaining his composure. “Oh good, you’re in the same place, that makes my job easier! You’re both on next so we need you to head to the wings now.”

Nate feared for the worst, that all of it was actually true. He really had no say in what Rylan's father was doing, nor what her PR manager was doing, but he sure had a say in how it was making Rylan feel. After everything she had gone through, to know that two of some of the closest people to her were sleeping together, and cheating on her mother, had to be overwhelming. So when she told him to scroll down, he knew he would have to expect the worst; and that was exactly what he got. There was no excuse for it, there was no way to explain it now. "Maybe... maybe it's photoshop? I mean, that happens." Nate offered weakly, because even he didn't really believe it. Instead, he turned the phone off, moving towards Rylan as she slumped down into the chair. "You've got to listen to their side of the story first. I mean, what if... I don't know... maybe your mom's aware? That happens sometimes?" He tried to give reason to this awful situation, but even that didn't really make sense. Instead, he crouched down next to her, placing his hands on her knees and squeezing them gently. "You've got to give them one chance to explain themselves. After that, throw plates, glasses, anything you want, okay? I'll buy you a whole bunch of plates, if you want." Because, after all, no matter what, he'd be there to support her. When the PA entered the room, Nate was quick to jump away from Rylan, nodding along awkwardly as he finished buttoning his shirt up. "Right, of course. We'll be there in just a moment, okay?" He smiled at the man, glancing back at Rylan. Could she really manage this right after such shocking news?

“It’s not photoshop, who gives a shit about my dad and her enough to photoshop that kind of stuff.” Rylan’s voice was acrid as she kept her eyes locked on Nate, still pale as hell under all her make up. And there was a lot of make up. Letting out a sarcastic laugh she shook her head, not wanting to lay eyes on either of them let alone listen to their side of the story. She hated them both. Loathed them. “Aware? She’s not fucking aware, there is no way in hell she would stand for this kind of shit. Plus if she was aware then they wouldn’t be sneaking around behind my back telling me how to ‘clean up my image’ while fucking behind everyones backs.” The girl all but spat, blood boiling the more she thought about it, the more she processed what she had actually just found out. She barely even registered his hands on her knees as she shook her head, scowling furiously. They were both dead to her. Looking over at the PA who came in with a dazed look on her face she didn’t react facially , just standing up like a zombie, the heels of her shoes clicking on the floor. She felt dizzy again but this wasn’t the time to throw in the towel, she knew both of them were in the audience right now and her mind was clicking away as to how she could make it known just how she felt about all this without the chance to talk to them. The Rumba. There was something there, they wanted her to put her whole into this competition? They wanted that? Rylan would happily give them exactly what they wanted. Walking over to Nate she grabbed his hand in her own, yanking him towards the door in silence, her jaw set as she grit her teeth. “We have to dance.” She snapped, stalking through the door without letting go of his hand, not caring anymore if anyone saw them. Clearly Mel and Kennedy didn’t have that concern about themselves so why should she?

"Competition? He's a prominent man, the whole city knows him, maybe it's an attempt to blackmail him." Nate insisted, trying to come up with some kind of decent reason, yet knowing that it was all in vain. Rylan was most likely right, it was something far worse than he was trying to come up with, but seeing her so pale, so angry; it worried him. This was the worst possible time for something like that to come to light, and he couldn't even bring himself to look at the obviously very real photos. "Maybe they didn't want to worry you. Didn't want you to know. But... either way, that's awful. I'm so sorry, darling." He tried to soothe her, but he wouldn't have been upset if she wasn't buying it. This wasn't the kind of news to just accept lightly and walk away from it like it was nothing. He needed another moment or two just to find ways to calm her down, to get her to focus on the upcoming dance, but then Rylan snapped, taking his hand and leading him out of the room. His eyes widened in surprise, yet he didn't dare to move his hand out of hers, knowing that it would upset her even more. "Listen, Rylan, I know it's difficult and probably impossible right now, but don't think about them. Focus on the dance, okay? On just getting through it. It's just a few minutes and then we're away from the cameras, okay?" He tried to talk to her, to encourage her to pull herself together despite the eyes that were obviously falling onto them. They had mere moments, he was running out of time - "You're on." The PA announced, and they were pushed onto the stage, in front of hundreds of eyes and way too many cameras for his liking right now.

Rylan just scoffed at Nate’s attempt at calming the situation which was probably unfair, but it wasn’t because she didn’t appreciate it, it was just that she saw Kennedy in an entirely different light now. He was a cheater, plain and simple, there was a genuine fear inside her chest about how this might effect her relationship with her dad who was, with the exception of Nate but in a different way, the most important man in her life. The two were on a par in their respective roles, but now … well there was no telling. As she lead him through the warren of hallways behind the stage she ignored the way people turned to look at her, then them, then their hands. She couldn’t give two shits anymore. The last couple of months where they had been sneaking around now seemed like a farce, she was furious. “Oh don’t you worry, I’m super fucking focused on the dance, I’ve literally never been more focused in my life.” Away from the cameras, the irony of that statement as the two of them were pushed out onto the stage, lights hitting them, Rylan’s entire dress sparkling instantly. But she wasn’t focusing on any of that right now. Instead she just gave Nate’s hand a squeeze before letting go of it because they started the dance separate - even though it was The Rumba. What a dance to be doing today of all days. If it wasn’t so stupid it would be hilarious. Eyes scanning to where she knew her support system always sat she looked for Mel and her father, staring them down for a couple of seconds, before the music started and her attention had to go to the steps. To Nate. The dance called for their bodies to be pressed together but Rylan was certainly committing to it, hands running down his chest as she brushed her nose against his jawline, locking his gaze as soon as they were face to face. Making a serious point of turning things up a notch.

"Ry-" He tried to reason once more as she scoffed at him, knowing that it was a completely lost cause. Could he blame her? Her whole life must have been falling apart at the moment, and having to go stand in front of the cameras was the worst-case scenario. Who had even decided to show her that article? Surely, Rylan wasn't just browsing TMZ, because it wasn't the right time nor the right place for it. He had to get the name out of her and talk to that person after the dance was over. Yet, right now, Nate had to focus on the dance, and when Rylan told him that she was doing the same, he wasn't really buying it. "Deep breaths, okay? Just let yourself get lost in the dance." He almost begged, growing more and more worried about her despite having to put a pokerface on as they had to move to the right positions. He still continued to eye her as he moved to stand perfectly straight, waiting for the music to start. It didn't take a genius to figure out where her eyes were shifting to, but he had no way of trying to tell her to focus. To tell her to stop. Instead, the music started, and he moved right into the flow, being a complete natural. It would have been easy to focus on the moves, on making sure that Rylan was doing it just right, but she was already moving differently compared to what they had practiced, the little additions an easy giveaway that something was wrong. Still, Nate remained professional, despite how inviting the dance itself was, keeping his contact with Rylan any moment he could, in hopes that it would somehow calm her down.

Rylan knew the steps, Nate had made sure of that, so luckily that wasn’t an issue right now even if she had a million things going on outside of the dance. Even though she’d glared into the crowed before the music started she was now entirely in the moment with Nate, with her boyfriend. Well it was the dance of love after all so she might as well lean into that. Wasn’t that what people asked her to do? To feel the dance, well she was certainly doing that. As well as feeling all kinda of parts of her dance partner which wasn’t exactly on the program. He’d asked her to get lost in the dance so…well Rylan was getting entirely lost in it. Locking her eyes with his in a heated look, passion overflowing from her expression as the two minute dance started winding to a close. Their last move she had to wrap her entire body around his so he could drag her across the floor her toes just grazing it as they moved. Which was exactly what she did, but as the music drifted into silence she tipped her head backwards just enough to put their lips on the same level, giving him a tiny smile. Burn it to the ground. Those were the words that were being screamed in her head as she closed the gap between them in a heated kiss. Tongue grazing across his bottom lip the whole world going silent around them for a couple of seconds as her eyes flickered closed, heart hammering a million miles an hour against her ribcage as her chest heaved rapidly desperate for her to catch her breath. “I love you…” She whispered as she pulled away a little bit, nuzzling her nose against his gently, hand at the nape of his neck where his hair curled a little in the cutest way. Where her fingers always went when she wanted to calm him, but now it was to calm herself, anchor her in what she knew to be true in a sea of chaos.

She was moving flawlessly, executing each step to perfection, and despite the glances at the beginning, all seemed to be going fine. Still, Nate remained worried, despite working as a true professional and letting everyone else believe that all was fine. Deep down, he never once stopped worrying about Rylan, even if he reciprocated the heated look she gave him whenever their eyes met. It was a bittersweet dance, in a way; he loved Rylan so damn much, yet he had to pretend that the passion they were displaying wasn't real, that it was all made up for the sake of the show. Still, he focused on the dancing, on making the crowd and the judges believe it, and as the dance slowly came to an end, he knew they've made it. Somehow, they've made it. All he had left was to drag her across the floor for one final show, proof that they've gone a long way, and this would be it. So when she smiled at him, he smiled back, hoping that they'd gone through the worst of it... that was until her lips pressed again his, and for a moment, Nate was thrown off. Automatically, he kissed her back, unable to resist her, despite the shock and the awful realization of what was happening. "Ry?" He whispered in shock as they pulled away, both breathless from dancing. "I- I love you too... but-" Nate tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. But he had to do something about it, play it all off, and another moment later, he pulled her back up to her feet, keeping one hand around her and lifting the other up, to signify the end of the dance, refusing to look at the shocked faces of the crowd.

When he kissed her back she deepened it, there was the sound of a gasp from somewhere off to the side of the stage but she hadn’t even noticed, instead just humming against her boyfriend’s lips. When they finally pulled apart she took a couple of breaths, still smirking, although the shock on his face wasn’t lost on her. It was valid, she’d just made quite the statement, not to mention there would be speculation about what they’d said to each other immediately after the kiss no doubt. Who cares, let the gossip writers talk, let Mel try to tidy up the mess Rylan had caused with the reckless move. All she cared about was that she was no longer willing to hide away her relationship with Nate for the good of other people. She wanted to be able to show how much she loved him because that was what he deserved and she’d selfishly been putting herself before him for too long at this point. “No but, it’s fine.” She whispered as he pulled her back to her feet and she stood back up again, hand moving down across his shoulders before she finally knew they were going o have to face the music. Shit, she’d been selfish again without thinking, because this would no doubt have repercussions on Nate. Fuck. Glancing over to where her father and PR manager sat she didn’t even bother locking eyes with them, instead just slipping her hand into the man’s so they could head over to the judges and face whatever was heading their way. It was out there now so there was no going back, what people didn’t know is that kiss was proof of more than just a fling but a signal of their relationship. Burn it to the ground, well that was one way of describing what she’d just started.

Within seconds, he went from being ecstatic about their dance, to terrified about what happened afterward. He loved Rylan more than he loved anyone else in this world, and he wanted to make sure that she would be okay. Clearly, she wasn't, if she was kissing in front of all these cameras, in front of a huge crowd of people. His nerves were starting to bubble up, yet he was desperate to keep a smile on his face, glancing over at Rylan everyone once in a while. She was unraveling, that had to be it. Surely, she wouldn't do something like that just because? Avoiding making eye contact with anyone else but the girl next to him, he squeezed her hand in return. "It'll be fine." He whispered to her, a small smile of encouragement remaining on his face as they made their way towards the judges. Nate craved so much to be able to show off his relationship with Rylan to the rest of the world, to show just how much he loved her, but he had no idea what was really happening. Was she that angry at her father and her PR manager that she would do something like this to make them pay? Surely, she would've talked to him first if that was the case. They could've warned Lachlan. They could've figured out something that they could've done. Fear began to sink within his bones as he broke his rule and looked over at the judges, squeezing Rylan's hand gently again. The look on their faces didn't say anything good, and as the host started asking them questions, he found himself unable to come up with anything at all.

Nate was smiling at her but she could tell how anxious he was becoming, because she knew him better than she knew anyone. The shame of what she’d done with no consideration for his feelings or opinion ahead of time was getting more intense by the second, even as he told her he’d be fine. Swallowing hard she squeezed his hand back as they made their way over to the host, eyes darting around a little as she took in the shocked faces of the people all around them. Shit. She regretted it but not because of what she thought anyone else might think, simply because it was selfish to do it without talking to Nate ahead of time, checking he was okay with it. Turning to look at him with slight panic in her eyes as the host started to speak she leant over to mutter an apology to him under her breath, body starting to tremble. The panic starting to ripple through her as they were probed more by disapproving judges, overly interested hosts, Rylan just stuttering out answers as best she could so they would be allowed to leave the stage. Taking the blame for what had happened entirely, making sure the host knew Nate had no idea she was going to do it. Saying the dance had just brought it out in her, no they weren’t going to discuss anything going on between them right now, no it wasn’t a manipulation tactic to get votes. Though she could see how it might be looked on as exactly that. Double shit. As they were told they could leave the stage to await their scores she turned to her boyfriend when they were out of sight of the cameras, looking distressed. “Fuck…shit fuck Nate I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck I’m such a selfish fucking bitch. Shit.” Rylan started to openly panic, hands going to push through her hair frantically.

His mind was in absolute chaos. He wasn't blaming Rylan for any of it, yet as the host kept pestering them with questions and the judges kept giving criticism worse than the one before, he felt dread settle in, too. They were in the top five. The dance they perform was immaculate- or was he just completely biased? Were the judges correct, that they were sloppy? Were they seeing things where he didn't notice them at all? Maybe they were right. He continued to hold Rylan's hand- there was no point in denying it now- even as she said otherwise, letting her talk, instead accepting the criticism from the judges. Was this it for them? It had been a miracle he had been hired into this show in the first place, and maybe this was it for him. Maybe he would never get further than this, and this was the end, Rylan's kiss just becoming a complete coincidence. His mind was unraveling as they walked backstage, away from the cameras, yet he knew he had to pull himself together for Rylan. She was going through so much as it was, he had to make sure that she'd be relaxed. "No, it's okay. Ry, it's okay." He quickly pulled her into his arms, wanting to calm her down, wanting to find ways to make her feel just a little better. "You're not that. You're just... you're just in shock. After that article, I'm surprised you wanted to dance at all. And you did so damn well, don't listen to what those judges said." He spoke, keeping her close to him as his arms wrapped around her waist, placing a few light kisses on the side of her head. There were still so many people around them, yet that no longer mattered, not after everything that happened.

As Nate pulled her into a hug she felt herself entirely dissolve into the panic upset she’d been suppressing since she’d seen the article, then the comments they’d been given in the aftermath of her kissing Nate. She’d seriously messed things up for him potentially and it was all just too much. “Fuck!” She screamed against his chest as she felt tears come into her eyes, face still pressed into Nate’s shoulder as her erratic breathing got the better of her. Chest heaving as she tried to snatch breaths every couple of seconds and failed miserably. This was chaos and she’d effectively just made things a whole lot worse with her stupid decision. “Fuck…I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry I’ve fucked everything up.” If they were voted out because of her selfishness there was a very good chance the woman would never forgive herself because this wasn’t about her it was about Nate’s career. That wasn’t something she had any right to ruin just because her dad and Mel had decided they wanted to fuck up people’s lives for their own selfish gain. Did this make her just as bad as them? Probably. She’d effectively just done the same. Arms holding onto Nate tightly as they wrapped around his waist her hands were shaking nastily, his embrace basically the only thing holding her up at this point. For the second time in a week, at least this time she was hopefully not going to pass out. Maybe. “I shouldn’t have done that it was so selfish, I just…I saw their faces in the crowed and I got so angry. They are out there doing whatever the fuck they want and we…and we…” she tried to take a breath, lifting her head off his chest as the realisation that tears mixing with her make up would spell disaster for his shirt. “We have to hide and pretend because of a stupid god damn idea other people had…and I went along with because I’m spineless and stupid. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

"It's okay, baby. It's okay." Nate tried to calm Rylan down, yet also wanted her to just let it all out. All the emotions after seeing her father like that, betraying her mother, had to be overwhelming, and he would never blame her for acting out in the way that she did. "You have nothing to apologize for." He assured her again and again, moving his hand to her hair, carefully running his fingers through it without trying to destroy the masterpiece that was her hairstyle. "You did what you had to do at the moment, and you know what? I'm happy that you did it. This way.. I mean, this way, we can now be free to go about our relationship, without really hiding it." Nate assured her. He was scared of the results, and the fact that they would most likely be leaving tonight was terrifying to him. They've done so much. Rylan had improved so much, her dance moves were becoming more and more flawless each time. He was getting a fair amount of money for this, too, which was always a good thing, but if he had to choose, he would have picked Rylan and her well-being without even thinking about it for a single moment. She always came first, no matter what. So he held onto her with his one hand while the other continued to move through her hair, his heart breaking at the sight of her teary-eyed face as she pulled away. "Don't you ever apologize for this, okay? You did nothing wrong. I promise. I'm not angry at you, and I'm not disappointed, and you have no reason to apologize. Ry, please." Nate insisted, offering her a small smile despite his stomach twisting out of nerves and the impending doom. "Why don't we go to your dressing room so you can get something to drink? It was a very difficult dance." He wanted her to focus on the little things, rather than on something this huge, in hopes that it would help her.

“They were out there, watching, like nothing was fucking wrong with their stupid…faces…” She muttered through her tears, each inhale a shaky mess of stuttering breaths. Her explosion against his chest just drawing more attention to them but then he was talking about how she had nothing to apologise for and god did she want to believe him. His hand in her hair a small soothing touch that allowed her to look up at him and lock their gazes. Her own eyes with wide, imploring him to be right about this, as she tried to slow her breathing. In for four, out for four. And repeat. She’d thrown his entire career in jeopardy but here he was reassuring her, it was more than she could ever had asked for from a partner that was for sure. “We…we can now…I mean we can just be us right? Even if everything else falls to shit we can still be us.” That was one good thing - they were free to be a couple out in the world now instead of hiding it behind closed doors. Even though they hadn’t been doing anything wrong in the first place by being together, unlike Mel and her father. Nodding her head silently as she tried to wipe away a couple of stray tears from her cheek with the back of her hand she allowed Nate to lead her back towards her dressing room. He might have meant water when he said ‘something to drink’ but she had entirely other ideas in her head. They were going to need something a lot stronger. “Yeah….yeah…I want to get out of this fucking clown dress.” She sniffed, even if the dress she was in was actually a stunning combination of sheer and sequinned cloth that had been crafted by the costume department. Everything felt like it was currently on fire and the girl wanted to be smothered in the comfort of her sweatpants and one of Nate’s hoodies. “I’m so sorry…” She repeated again through her tears as they moved through other dancers, crew, guests of the show, back to where her dressing room door sat waiting for them to hide behind it. Just the two of them.

"I know, baby, I know. They should've gone so much better about this." Nate agreed with a small nod as he continued to hold her, in hopes that it would somehow help her. His own heart was hammering against his chest as he tried to figure out what to do next. There was no proof that they were done with the show. The judges weren't happy, but they still had the crowd's vote, right? Maybe another couple would perform even worse than they did. Miracles happened, and he desperately hoped for one. He wanted to remain in the show, he wanted to keep on going, to win this, but, most of all, he wanted Rylan to be happy. He knew that losing this, right now, would only break her heart further, and he loathed the mere idea of it. Still, all Nate could do right now was focus on the present. Focus on just her and no one else. "Good girl." He praised her lightly as she breathed in and out, never once letting go of her. After all, he needed this just as much as she needed it. "Exactly, we can be us. We can hold hands in the public. I can take you shopping because I just suck at that, and you're absolutely amazing. So, basically, you can buy your own shirts that would be kind of mine." He tried to joke, desperate to get a smile out of her. "Besides, this doesn't mean that we're out. The voting isn't over yet, so.. you never know. Maybe we'll pull through to the next stage, and then we'll make sure to show them just how much we're worth." He assured her, reaching up and gently helping her wipe her tears away, without smudging her makeup too much. He hated so much that she was feeling like this, that she had to go through so much, and there was not much that he could do about it. "I'm pretty sure you would need to stay in it until the end of the show, baby. But once it's over, you can change into whatever makes you feel the best." He assured her as he lead her through the crowds of people, ignoring the sympathetic and shocked looks on everyone's faces, just wanting to bring Rylan to safety. "Ry, I promise you, you have nothing to apologize for. You never have any reason to apologize for anything."

Despite everything his words made her laugh ever so slightly through her tears, the idea of going to buy the shirts with him that she would no doubt end up stealing from him. Only after he’d worn them obviously so they smelt like him, but it was so like him to try and look on the bight side at a time like this. Nate, the boy with a heart of gold, who she could finally tell the world just how much she loved. A silver lining, right? Even if there didn’t seem to be any kind of positives to everything that was happening right now, he was giving her some as if they came to him easily. “You don’t suck at that, you don’t suck at anything.” She sniffed, still holding onto him with one hand as she wiped her cheeks with the other, moving to allow him to do that for her instead. Focusing on her breathing, trying to get the sight of her father’s face she’d seen moments ago out of her mind’s eye, but it was hard. And each time it popped into her head she was filled with anger and disappointment. Cheating was something she loathed and he’d done just that to her mother. Even if Rylan didn’t get on with the woman that wasn’t an excuse, because no one deserved that. “Right…yeah…” He was right of course. She was going to have to stay in her dress until the show was finished but at least in her dressing room they wouldn’t have prying eyes looking at them the whole time, every move they made, which they currently had as they moved through rooms full of people. Turning to stare at them as they walked through the hallways, still hand in hand she wasn’t feeling okay enough to let go of it anytime soon. Once they had shut the door behind themselves so they were alone she took a deep shuddering breath and moved to wrap her arms around Nate. Closing her eyes as she held onto him tightly, needing to be close to him, needing to know he was there. “If I fucked this all up for us…I just…I didn’t think it was fair that we didn’t get to show people how much we love each other when they are out there just doing whatever they want…we’re not even married to other people.” She stumbled over the word married, that familiar nauseous feeling rising in her throat again. This was a living nightmare. “I should have talked to you about it but we didn’t have time and I just…had to…I love you and I don’t think it’s fair that we can’t show that.” Her words were coming out in a stuttered, stumbling mess, still in shock from everything that had gone down in less that fifteen minutes even though it felt like it had been hours.

Rylan was laughing, and it was a start. He wanted to bring her beautiful smile back onto her face, he wanted to make sure that she would be at least remotely okay. The mess they had just gone through was a terrible one, but Nate wanted to believe that it wasn't the worst, that they still had a shot at somehow making it out. After all the bad luck they've gone through, surely, they could finally manage some good luck? "I am absolutely awful at it, and you don't have a leg to stand on with this argument. You're a million times better at it. And many other things, darling." Nate insisted as he gently wiped her tears away, careful with every single touch. He wanted Rylan to get better, he wanted her to stop overthinking it. What was done was done, and he wasn't going to be angry with her. He wasn't going to upset her further, even if he would have preferred to have been warned about it in advance. Still, their relationship was out, they no longer had to pretend to be just friends, and when it came to that, he was absolutely relieved. So when they made their way back to her dressing room, he didn't hesitate, letting her hold onto him, holding back onto her just as much. "Rylan, no. Stop." He spoke up sternly, making her look back at him once more. Still, he remained gentle in his touch. "Don't apologize for this, okay? It's fine. Yes, I would've been happy to know that you would do what you did, but I don't regret it. We'll finally get to be happy and be out in the public. We won't have to hide." Nate insisted stubbornly, squeezing her gently as she brought up the affair once more. He couldn't even begin to imagine just how hurt she must have been. "And you're right, it's not fair. It's not fair what they're doing, and you have every right to be upset over all of it. And you have to promise me that you'll talk to them okay?"

“Well I will always come shopping with you now because no one can stop us anymore.” Rylan reassured him, leaning into his hand as he wiped away her tears. The embrace was fraught with emotion when she finally got to fall into his arms in her dressing room, body racked with sobs, trying to catch her breath a little bit but it just felt like everything was falling apart. The one constant she had in her life which was her dad was…well was it all a lie? Not exactly but he certainly wasn’t the same man she’d thought he was an hour ago and that was intensely painful for her. It felt like a stabbing sensation in her chest, making it hard to breath. As his voice turned stern she looked at him properly, nodding her head slowly to signify she understood that he wasn’t going to blame her for what she did. Even if the feeling of guilt was strong inside her - for what she’d done to Nate, throwing him into the eye of a storm he hadn’t deserved. It was selfish. Probably the adjective most apt to describe her a lot of the time, self serving when she became hot headed. “We don’t have to hide it anymore, we can just be with each other properly.” She murmured in reply, moving forward to rest her cheek on his shoulder, taking a shuddering inhale as she closed her eyes, doing everything she could to focus on the positives of this horrible situation. “We’re going to get voted out of the show now…and it’s all my fault. The judges hate us.” It wasn’t outright an apology but it was kind of one without her breaking what she’d just agreed with him which was not to say sorry anymore. Their comments had been incredibly harsh, it didn’t spell anything good for the couple in terms of their standing in the competition. “Talk to them? I don’t even want to fucking look at them. It makes me feel ill.” She whispered.

"Good. I can't wait. Maybe we could even go tomorrow?" Nate asked her, trying to find ways to distract her in one way or another. He smiled gently as she leaned into his touch, and for a moment there, he wanted to stay there, with her, for an eternity. When would they ever catch a break? When would they ever just get to be themselves, get to enjoy their lives as a proper couple? He craved for that time to come eventually, even if Nate feared that it wouldn't happen any time soon. "Exactly. That's the biggest advantage about all of this. I finally get to show the world just how much I love my girl." Nate assured her, a smile reappearing on his face in hopes that it would somehow make her sobs disappear because he absolutely loathed that. He loathed seeing her this broken, and it hurt him to know that this was, lately, a fairly common occurrence. "You don't know that, Ry. What if we don't get voted out of the show? What if... what if we get voted out because our performance wasn't good enough? The criticism the judges gave was good, they were fair with it." He insisted, even if he doubted it himself. Then again, he doubted his own abilities even more. "Besides, the public is due to vote, too. For all you know, they liked our chemistry." Still, Nate didn't stop with trying to get her to smile; both of them needed something good in their lives. Desperately. "I know, I know it does. But you'll have to approach them. And out of the three of you, you being the adult would mess them up even more."

“Maybe… but you might not want to go out tomorrow…it’ll be a media circus. I’d almost rather just stay in the two of us.” Rylan spoke, pulling a face because she knew the second Nate stepped outside there were going to be cameras swarming him in a way he probably hadn’t ever experienced before. They would need to talk about that more when they got home, but not here in front of everyone. His sweet words made her tears coming faster because she loved him so much, but didn’t want him to think that he’d in any way upset her with that, so Rylan put a smile on her face. A tiny one but it was there, pressing a soft wet kiss to his lips. “I love you so much.” She murmured as she took in his smile, the way it filled his eyes, causing a ripple of warmth through her pained chest. Nate was her everything that much was for sure. Keeping hold of his hand as she pulled away from his chest the girl moved to sit down on the sofa across the room, gently pulling him with her so he would do the same, her feet screaming from the dance on top of the week of training. The heels she wore on the show were lower than any she wore normally in her modelling life but for some reason they ended up hurting her even more, it was like some kind of sick joke. “I guess so, they might like it, but they probably just think I’m an attention seeker or something. I don’t know. Maybe they’re not wrong.” Dropping her head into her hand she let out a small groaning noise, the idea of having to speak to Mel or her father one she didn’t want to think about, mainly because right now she wanted to swing for both of them. “I’m not talking to them tonight, or tomorrow, I just need some time.” Plus she wanted to go back to her apartment with her boyfriend and hide for a bit. Go back to that own little world they created for themselves a while back, slip back into the comfort of it, feel that safety for a while. “Please? Just us?”

"Oh.. yeah, you'll probably right. We'll go next week, okay? I'm sure they won't find us that interesting for long." Nate tried to reason with her. Surely, something different would come up, and they would no longer be interesting to the larger crowds. Rylan would almost be interesting, purely of what she is, but for all he knew, another scandal would happen, and they'd be forgotten. Maybe, as awful as it was, her father's scandal would drown out what theey had done. He was hoping for awful things, but, if Nate was being honest, he just wanted Rylan happy for a moment. "I love you more." he insisted, his smile not going away. It pained him to know that the weak smile on her face was bound to go away really quickly, but Nate was willing to do whatever it took to make sure that she'd start to recover. She needed that, she needed something good in her life. So as she sat on the sofa, and pulled him with her, Nate didn't hesitate, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his lap. "They can think whatever they want, because they're wrong. You're not an attention seeker. You're just... unlucky, with stuff like that." he explained, wrapping his arms around her waist. It was weird, having her so close to him in her changing room, but for once, Nate wasn't worried. "No, take a few days. Maybe a week. But you'll have to talk to them." Nate insisted, leaning in and placing a few gentle kiss onto her neck. He wanted to have her slip into their little nice bubble, one they typically used when they were all by themselves. "It'll be just us until you're ready to talk to them. I promise."

“Next week.” Rylan agreed, no idea how long it would take for this to all blow over but also wanting to start their lives of showing the world how much they meant to each other. Not immediately, well not in the way of walking out in front of the vultures that were gossip magazine photographers, but still. Nate deserved to be shown off to the world and she couldn’t wait to be the one who did it. “Mm…don’t know about that.” She whispered as she let her body curl into his lap, leaning her head against his chest and closing her eyes. Focusing on the sound of his heartbeat to calm her because even if she was conflicted and upset his presence was always enough to help her regulate her emotions to a point. Knowing he was right there, someone who understood her better than anyone else, Nate couldn’t even begin to imagine what he did for her by just being present half the time. “Unlucky…yeah. Except I chose to do that out there, so it’s not unlucky…if anything you’re the one who got unlucky because I thrust that upon you without asking first or just…warning you.” She knew he’d argue back about that but she couldn’t’ stop herself from saying it again because it was the truth. He’d not had a choice in their relationship going public all of a sudden and that wasn’t fair however much he argued that there were more positives in his eyes. Feeling his lips against her neck she nodded, letting out a slow breath from puffed out cheeks, exhausted from all the emotions and shocks of the evening. She wished the two fo them were able to leave right now. “As long as it can be just us for a while, I don’t want to deal with them yet. I want it to just be us, in our apartment, together. Turn our phones off. Just ignore the world for a bit.” Especially if they got knocked out tonight, because no doubt they’d both be miserable because of that as well. “And if we get voted off, when we get voted off, you’re allowed to be angry with me. Okay? You are totally within your right.”

"I know about that. I love you the mostest." Nate insisted stubbornly as he gently rubbed Rylan's back, holding her close. He genuinely just wanted her to be happy, he genuinely just wanted for her to, for once, be at peace. There was too much coming her way, and the recent passing out was a warning sign, the kind that Nate refused to allow to happen once more. It was too much, and he still feared for her well-being, remaining awake at night, just watching her sleep, making sure that she was breathing. He couldn't imagine his life without the girl, and there was absolutely no way that he would willingly see her fall apart. "I would never call myself unlucky. I've got you, don't I? You're here, with me, and here we are, arguing over who loves the other more. I'm the luckiest man in the world." He insisted, placing a few more gentle kisses onto her neck, refusing to even let her argue over it. He was lucky for having her, and he had not a single doubt in his mind about it. "See, I don't think you chose to do it. I think you acted because you were hurt, and it's totally justifiable. I would've done the same." Maybe not, but he wasn't going to blame her. Ever. His hand continued to run up and down her back, tracing circles and just about anything else that came to his mind. "Sounds like a deal. Just the two of us, no phones. We can order food and watch a movie. Be a boring kind of couple." He joked lightly, quick to shake his head at her next request. "No, that's not happening. First of all, we're not getting voted off. And even if we are, I will never be angry with you. Ever." Nate insisted stubbornly, sighing quietly as the door to her dressing room was opened. "They're about to announce the results, we need everyone on the stage." The PA announced, disappearing as quickly as they came in, almost as if avoiding them.

Rylan couldn’t help but laugh softly as he mentioned the two of them arguing over who loved the other more, melting under the touch of his lips on her neck. Sighing a little because it was calming her even further, her hand going to the nape of his neck again. Fingers running through the curls there. Leaning over to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you. For making me smile even now.” Because it was certainly something that wasn’t very easy to do that was for sure. Her world was falling down around her but with Nate in her corner things never felt quite as bad as they might otherwise. “I acted because if they can ignore what is ‘acceptable’ then why the fuck should we have to hide in the shadows and not let anyone know how in love we are?” Resting her head on his shoulder as he rubbed circles on her back, hand still in his hair, closing her eyes. “No phones, just food, a movie, cuddling, being together. I love the sound of that. The more boring the better, don’t you think we’re overdue our share of being a boring couple?” Of course he wasn’t going to agree to what she was saying, because this was Nate, but that didn’t mean Rylan hadn’t felt the need to vocalise it anyway. Just incase he’d decided he did need to get angry or upset at her. She didn’t realise the door had been opened until there was the voice of a PA ringing out in the room, making her sit bolt upright out of habit before remembering what she’d done on stage and that they probably didn’t need to be worried about anyone seeing them together anymore. “Jesus, gave me a fucking scare, why do they always creep up like that?” Her heart was hammering again at the prospect of having to go out and face the cameras once more, it had been easy to calm down when just the two of them were hiding behind her dressing room door but it was over too soon. “Shit…I don’t want to go back out there.” But they had no choice, she knew that, taking a deep breath to steel herself.

"You don't have to thank me for that. You know how much I love your smile, darling." Nate smiled in return before kissing her back, no matter how gentle they were with each other. It was simply nice to see her just a little more relaxed, just a little bit more at peace, especially when they weren't in the comfort of their apartment. Well, her apartment, really, but at this point, it felt like home to Nate. "You're right, we shouldn't hide. We'll just have to figure something out about Lachlan. It can't be a good situation for him." He felt bad, really, about having to cut off Lachlan's money source like that, but he knew they'd come up with something. Maybe he could donate to the man what he had earned during DWTS, maybe they could come up with something else. "Yeah, you're right. It'd be nice to be a boring couple for once. Go on an actual date for once." He daydreamed, knowing that, finally, it was a possibility. It was simple, but after being together for so long, Nate craved to take Rylan out, he craved to make her feel loved and appreciated. So when she jumped once the PA appeared, he smiled a little, rubbing her back for a few more moments, hoping to reassure her. "It's a skill, isn't it? I mean, it's pretty impressive." Nate tried to joke, no matter how tense he was becoming. Still, he helped her back up to her feet, fixing his messy shirt and her dress as he stood up, too. "We'll be fine. Deep breaths, okay? We'll be fine." He assured her, gently fixing her hair as best as he could, as well. "Besides, now, you can hold my hand. And squeeze it as hard as you need to, okay? Because I'll probably do the same." Nate joked, offering his hand to her once more once both of them were ready, leading her out of the dressing room.

“Oh shit, Lachlan, he’s going to want to rip my throat out. Which is valid.” Rylan muttered, she hadn’t thought about him before the kiss either. Yet another selfish act from a selfish Pratt. It must run in the family. “Although that’s not really for us to worry about, it’s for her to worry about, she’s my PR agent after all and he’s a part of my PR. So. Fuck that noise.” Leaning in she press a kiss to his lips, lingering, slow, wanting to drink in the last few moments of just the two of them before going back out in front of the cameras. “I love you.” She whispered. “I love you and our boring couple future, with dates, and hand holding, and me posting sappy instagram posts about you. So get ready.” It was a weak joke, but she offered him a small smile anyway as she rest her head against his. “Impressive? Or terrifying? I think it’s a bit of both.” Standing back up she reached out to smooth his shirt, wiping a little mascara she’d managed to get onto his cheek off with her thumb, and taking a deep breath as instructed. Nodding. They’d be fine. They could hold hands, now that was something new, and they could do it without pretending it was entirely platonic. “I’m going to squeeze it so hard you’re going to think I’m on track to breaking it.” Rylan replied in a bit of a shaking voice, wrinkling her nose. Fallowing him out of the dressing room as they went to face the music.   Rylan utterly convinced this wasn't going to end well at all.

"He would never. I'm sure he'd understand if we explain to him exactly what happened." Nate assured her. Maybe he wouldn't, or maybe he would. There was no way in telling that until they actually faced the man, but Nate was set on being there, with Rylan, when it happened. "It'd still be nice if you told him about it yourself. You two are friends, right?" They had to be, they always seemed so friendly. Still, he didn't linger for too long on the topic, instead kissing Rylan back, wanting to enjoy that moment as much as she seemed to want it. "I love you too. So, so much." He added, emphasizing each word with a kiss. "And I can't wait for that boring couple future. It actually sounds exciting." Nate joked lightly, letting her fix him up a little. Neither of them probably looked their best- although, Rylan always looked fantastic- but they tried, and that was all that mattered to him. "I will take that on as a challenge. No way someone like you can break bones." Nate teased her, despite the anxiety beginning to bubble up deep within him. He was nervous, there was no other way to describe it, and he hoped that they actually got to stay at least for one more show. At least long enough so that Rylan wouldn't think that it was all her fault. His incompetence at dancing? Sure, totally plausible. But he didn't want her to feel guilty, he didn't want to upset her more than she already was upset. "Deep breaths, okay? And big smiles. Don't let them think you're affected by any of this." He encouraged her as they made their way onto the stage, only to be met by blinding lights and eyes, far more curious than before. Still, he kept his smile on, no matter how nervous it was as the host went through the usual taunting, adding more drama to the show- as if it needed in the first place- before finally announcing who would be departing tonight.

And... it wasn't them. Nate was expecting to hear their names being called out, but it was another couple, and seeing them hug and talk to the host felt surreal. How was it not them? Did the public really like them enough to have them survive through another round, pushing them onto the Top 4? Squeezing Rylan's hand, he glanced back at her, a genuine smile of relief appearing on his face. They were safe. She was fine, she didn't have to blame herself for this. And that, to Nate, was far more important than advancing to another round.

#convo: nate #dancing with the stars: the kiss

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dailygoogleposts · 7 months

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Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine Relationship: A Closer Look

In the world of celebrity relationships, there is often immense curiosity surrounding the romantic lives of well-known figures. One such relationship that has piqued the interest of many is the rumored connection between Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine. In this article, we will delve into the details, examining the facts, rumors, and the dynamics of their alleged relationship.

Who Is Skylar Vox?

Before we explore the speculated relationship between Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine, let's get to know Skylar Vox a bit better. Skylar Vox is a rising star in the entertainment industry, primarily known for her work in the adult film industry. Her captivating performances and growing popularity have made her a notable figure in the world of adult entertainment.

Zach LaVine: The NBA Sensation

On the other hand, Zach LaVine is a household name in the world of professional basketball. He is a talented NBA player who has showcased his skills with teams like the Chicago Bulls. LaVine's athleticism and on-court charisma have earned him a dedicated fan base.

The Rumors Begin

The rumors of Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine's relationship began circulating on social media platforms and gossip columns. Fans and followers of both celebrities couldn't help but speculate about their alleged romance. However, it's essential to remember that celebrity gossip is often filled with inaccuracies and baseless claims.

Separating Fact from Fiction

Amid the buzz surrounding their relationship, it's crucial to separate fact from fiction. Both Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine have maintained a level of privacy when it comes to their personal lives. This has contributed to the ambiguity surrounding their relationship status.

The Power of Social Media

In today's digital age, social media plays a significant role in fueling rumors and speculations about celebrity relationships. Fans often scrutinize every post, comment, and interaction between celebrities on platforms like Instagram and Twitter, looking for clues about their romantic involvements.

The 'Just Friends' Defense

In the midst of all the gossip, Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine have, on occasion, addressed the rumors. Both have stated that they are "just friends" and that the media has blown their interactions out of proportion. However, it's not uncommon for celebrities to downplay their relationships to maintain privacy.

A Shared Passion for Fitness

One aspect that Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine seem to have in common is their dedication to fitness. Both regularly share their workout routines and fitness achievements on social media. Could this shared interest be the basis for their friendship?

The Importance of Privacy

It's important to acknowledge that celebrities, like anyone else, deserve their privacy. The intense scrutiny and speculation surrounding their personal lives can be invasive and challenging to navigate.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the alleged relationship between Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine remains shrouded in mystery. While rumors continue to swirl, it's essential to respect their privacy and take their statements about being "just friends" at face value. Speculations aside, both individuals continue to excel in their respective careers, and that should be the focus of their public image.

FAQs

Are Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine officially dating?

As of now, both Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine have stated that they are just friends. There is no official confirmation of them being in a romantic relationship.

How did the rumors about Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine start?

The rumors began circulating on social media and gossip columns due to their interactions and shared moments, which fans interpreted as signs of a romantic relationship.

What are Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine's career highlights?

Skylar Vox is known for her work in the adult film industry, while Zach LaVine is an NBA player who has played for the Chicago Bulls and has achieved several accolades in his basketball career.

Do Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine share common interests?

Both Skylar Vox and Zach LaVine share an interest in fitness and often post about their workouts on social media.

Why is privacy important for celebrities?

Privacy is essential for celebrities to maintain a sense of normalcy in their lives and protect their personal boundaries from invasive scrutiny by the media and the public.

#technology

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starburstgalexies · 11 months

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Lately enamored with the idea of age 18-early 20s modern Xingqiu acting out ultimately harmlessly but just enough to cause headaches to his father.

If you remember my fashion designer Albedo AU, I deemed this idea more connectable to it, so this would be model!Xingqiu's early youth, but also it's disconnected enough that you don't have to recall that particular AU.

I basically gave him the life of an early-college-years rich boy, except with xq's personality. During the day, he is attending every class, managing the finances of his father's trading company masterfully where his responsibility is concerned. He might be working on his novel instead of taking notes in lectures, but hey, he still gets almost-straight As with an unshakable CV as the excellent middle-son of the Feiyuns. His major is just business anyway, hardly rocket science even without his commerce-centric upbringing that he has a knack for.

At night, he is overspending at every half decent party or the new hot club. Other bigwig families of the country use him to make snide comments at his father. He's drinking, he's doing drugs, and he technically knows his limits and never goes too far but he certainly doesn't look like he is sensible about it. He has been on the gossip articles for the candid photos of him on the lap of idol sensation Yun Jin. He is dragging his friends everywhere and covering their tabs, poor Chongyun with his sensitive constitution is wasted by 10 and Xiangling always gives into the FOMO. Xingqiu's father is always grilling him about it, tells him that he should behave and not spend so recklessly and threatens to cut him off financially or at the very least cancel his credit cards and Xingqiu just wears this calculated smile and says "for what, father :) have i not closed the deal with ningguang that everyone deemed impossible :) have i not resolved the salary strike in the factory :) or did professor whatshisface praise me too much :) surely you are a fair man to grant me some leisure time after all my hard work, and not so weak to abide by sinister gossip" and his father has to give up until the next weekend.

Who knows why Xingqiu acts that way. Could it be that he feels trapped in a life that's been written out for him? He feels bad for not liking what he is good at, and not having enough time to improve at what he wants to be good at? Maybe it's a subconscious middle child thing, always too smart and too good but hardly ever recognized, destined for an average standing even when he is near the throne.

Nah, it can't be any of that. He is content with his life, he is good at what he does, he has great friends, and he has too many privileges inaccessible to an average person.

It's just a little teenage rebellion. There will come a day where he is grateful of his riches, the way he helps his family and company effortlessly, all when he can do whatever he wants without the burdens of his older sibling or scrutiny on his youngest.

He just needs to let it all out while he can, and he will be fine.

#and then came a.lbedo :)#ales of alex #alex impacted

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mediatakeoutofficial · 1 year

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MTO News 10 Best-Kept secrets

The MTO News was founded in 2006 and specializes in gossip. Thousands of people visit the site every day to get the latest celebrity news. There are many people who have heard of the site and know what it is about, even if they have never visited it. The following ten facts may surprise you about this website.

Fred Mwangaguhunga founded it

A gap in the market for an African-American gossip site was identified by Fred Mwangaguhunga. who founded the site. According to him, this type of MTO News wouldn't take off. It wouldn't be popular enough..

Previously, he practiced law for corporations

In addition to graduating from City University in New York. Fred Mwangaguhunga trained as a lawyer before founding MTO News. Additionally. he graduated from Columbia with two more degrees. It has been said that even if he didn't run Media Take Out, he wouldn't return to law.

Blog-style writing is used

Sites like this one started out as blogs, and they are still written this way. The tone of the writing is fairly informal with each story written as a separate post. On the homepage, the newest stories are shown first as they are the ones that are most popular.

World's Most Visited Urban Website

The most visited urban website in the world, according to several sources, is Media Take Out. In spite of the fact that there is no official confirmation of this. Alexa ranks the site in the top 10,000 websites.

Their stories are mostly based on insider information

It is usually close friends of the celebrities they write about. Who supply them with the stories for their articles. The celebrities' families are involved. but mostly they are staff members who work for them or have worked for them in the past. Articles on the site do not reveal the sources of their information.

Sensational headlines are a trademark of theirs

Article headlines should be attention-grabbing in order to encourage readers to click on the articles. Often, the headlines Media Take Out uses are more talked about than the articles' content because they are very sensationalist.

Several big stories have been broken by them

It is also is mto news credible responsibility to break high-profile stories, not just report on what other people write. In addition, Kim Kardashian announced her first pregnancy and Michael Jordan announced he was divorcing. More stories may have been possible for them to break, but they decided not to.

Kanye West Has Been Upset

There was once a good relationship between the site and Fred Mwangaguhunga and Kanye West. but this relationship was not to last A good relationship between the site and Fred Mwangaguhunga and Kanye West before existed. but that has since ended. West's clothing collection was reviewed by is mto fake news, and it wasn't very complimentary. In response to Kanye's objections, MTO agreed to take another look at the clothing line, which they did and posted a more positive review. His relationship has never been the same since, though he was still not happy.

Facebook Has Increased Their Traffic Substantially

A rising social media presence has helped the site to attract more traffic. Is mto news fake news to the ability to click through from the Facebook link. People have received substantially more traffic since they joined Facebook. Facebook sharing increases awareness and interest in the site as people share articles they are reading is mto news a respected new outlet.

Programming Originals Are Made By Them

TV and radio are part of Mediatakeout future plans. They have already begun by broadcasting an original dating show from the homepage. As time goes on, this show will have several different episodes every day, with one new episode every week.

Conclusion

It is easy to trust the news from Mediatakeout. The blog provides entertaining and informative stories. That will interest media and political enthusiasts. As well as published posts. MTO News also offers “Our Take,” a compilation. the best writing from the site's contributors. Anyone who wants to stay current on the latest news or learn something new. about a topic. They're already familiar with and will enjoy MTO News.

#Mediatakeout #Mto news #Mediatake #Mediatakeoutnews #Media TakeOut #Mediat Take Out #Media Takeout Blog #MediaTake out

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mpmcorner · 1 year

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Kelsey Parker, 32 The Wanted star Tom Parker, since losing him to cancer eight months ago .

Kelsey Parker, 32 The Wanted star Tom Parker, since losing him to cancer eight months ago

After losing her beloved The Wanted actor husband to brain cancer at the age of 33, Tom Parker's widow Kelsey is eight months into a romance with an electrician she met in Greece. As she adjusts to life without the tragic pop sensation Tom Parker, his widow has found comfort in a new man. Mother-of-two Since losing her husband, The Wanted actor Tom, to cancer eight months ago, Kelsey Parker, 32, has been grieving his passing. Recently, she acknowledged that life without him was "tough." But after recently meeting electrician Sean Boggans, 39, friends are glad that actress Kelsey is looking forward and is in the beginning stages of a relationship with him.

Recently attended the wedding- Kelsey .

t's still very early, so no one can predict what the future will hold, but for the time being, Kelsey is content that someone new has entered her life, according to a source. It's thought that Kelsey and Sean, a father of two, met while Kelsey was vacationing with friends in Lindos, Rhodes, in September. Kelsey most recently attended the wedding of a relative of Sean's in Kent, where the pair was obviously in love. Sean just divorced the mother of his children, but Kelsey wasn't involved.

latest interview

After her children, Bodhi, 2, and Aurelia Rose, 3, had fallen asleep for their recent interview on TV's Loose Women, Kelsey spoke movingly about the gap left in her life by the loss of Tom. Evenings are so difficult, she complained. "Because the kids are in bed and it's just me then, and that's when you speak to your partner, you gossip and you talk, and I don't have that any more," the person said. With a special Father's Day post on Instagram in June, Kelsey makes a concerted effort to keep Tom's memory alive in the minds of her young children. However, she does acknowledge that Father's Day will be difficult. She participated in a demanding five-day race earlier this month.

Kelsey documentary

My workout regimen is motivated by the idea of joining a group of incredible individuals who have also endured tremendously trying circumstances and overcoming this task together. Tom passed away at the age of 33 from stage 4 glioblastoma brain cancer. His illness was discovered in October 2020, and doctors gave him just 12 months to live. He passed away on March 30, 2022. Also read: How did Lisa oredia died ? What was her cause of death? The following month, Kelsey will star in an ITV documentary on her loss and the changes in her life since Tom's passing. In the documentary, Kelsey will share her experience of grieving while raising their children. Life After by Kelsey Parker Tom will witness her letting cameras inside her house to record her incredibly personal journey Read the full article

#32TheWantedstarTomParker #Kelsey #KelseyParker #KelseyParkercancer #KelseyParkerchilddie #KelseyParkerchilddied #KelseyParkerInstagram #sincelosinghimtocancereightmonthsago #TomParker #WantedStarTomParker #WhoisKelseyParker

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toasteggnog6 · 2 years

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Home News Transcribers

The period of the Web and web 2.0 allowed individuals to share their experiences and reveal their feelings. This enables us to understand and share details that were difficult to be done. We have a way to know how hot it is inside the Sun or what it in fact searches the surface area of Mars. Our knowledge and our point of views have changed and so has the way we live in society. For example, somebody sends out a news release in which he reveals the opening of his brand-new business. Sounds like an unimportant story? If that individual suffers from a disability, it's not. In other words, bring your unique angle into your press release. Provide it a human feel. The secret is to record the reporter's interest. It must interest him or her and not just the market. concept 2 eployment of writing are entirely different and you need to be truly clear about what kind of writer you are when searching for results on the web. When you begin, you'll most likely need to do this yourself, but as your service grows and you can manage it, the very best thing to do is to outsource this news gathering and article production work to abroad material firms. Again, do a search on Google to discover these firms. Individuals rely on blogs for their news since they feel that the blog sites are more available. Numerous consumers feel that they are perfectly efficient in composing a blog site story or other piece for a news website that people can delight in. Blogging on trending news subjects is like composing a paper story if you are the "Average Joe". Individuals have an interest in breaking or trending news in a variety of topics. Individuals like to check out home entertainment and political news sites. There can be a great deal of fast-moving, ever-changing parts in these two genres. A blogger does want to examine their realities if they desire to go up to more extensively check out blog sites from time to time, however other people are simply searching for bits or gossip when they are taking a look at trending news topics. However, the finest choice I have, the one I delight in more than any other is the non-stop access to news and information offered to me as a customer to a TV programs service that offers me a nearly endless menu of TV shows that I can watch and take pleasure in, including numerous 24/7, "all news-all the time" networks. The Washington Post is another well-known and reputable news paper in the United States. It doesn't have as lots of customers as the New york city Times, but it still has a substantial following. It is based in Washington DC and focuses more on national news than other regional papers. It has been offering papers given that 1877 and has been on the web considering that 1996. Given That The Washington Post is a regional paper it doesn't have the presence as the NY Times or Wall Street Journal. The Washington Post has all the things you can discover in its news on its site. Being constantly exposed to negative occasions which you can't do anything about can lead to your sensations of vulnerability, which can sustain feelings of depression and stress and anxiety.

#concept 2 eployment #news site #breaking news

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lowkeyorloki · 3 years

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Gentle

Your fellow chambermaids have often spoken about their experiences in the dark haired prince of Asgard’s sheets, but when you finally meet Loki in that way, it isn’t what you expected

fingering. 18+. reader is a virgin in this fic. enjoy!

Read the second part to this fic, ‘Harsh’ here.

It happens differently than you thought it would.

It begins with a simple proposition; a brush of Loki’s fingertips on your hip in the long hallways of the palace. He catches your eye as well, his glinting with excitement. It makes your stomach jump in anticipation.

The maids you’re walking with notice. Asta in particular seems the most interested. She is, after all, Prince Loki’s latest conquest.

“How will he make me feel?” You ask her later in the kitchens. Your hands smell of meat as you scrub the pots and pans from tonight’s feast. Night is approaching, and you know you’re expected at Loki’s door soon.

“Full,” Asta answers. “His fingers alone were more filling than any cock.” You flinch, the language she uses uncomfortable to you. The maids knew of your inexperience. You weren’t privy to conversations like this.

“He leaned me over a table in the library,” Brenna says from across the kitchen. “The one by the staircase. I still get dizzy when I think about it.” She’s smiling at the memory. Smirking, more like.

“Oh,” you answer. You wonder if Brenna was left with splinters.

“You ought to go now,” Asta advises you. “You don’t have to know Loki intimately to remember he is lacking in patience.”

Loki’s room is dark and heavy. The feeling isn’t all in your head - there are three candles lit in addition to the glowing fire place. You’re shocked to see there isn’t a bead of sweat on Loki’s brow.

He gives you a small smile as he presses you against the door, wrapping a lock of hair around his finger. Then he pulls away.

“Here,” Loki walks over to the table by the bed and takes a goblet. He gestures for you to follow him. You obey, and he hands the cup to you. “Drink.”

“What-?” Loki’s gaze fall towards your stomach, and then travels back up your body to give you a knowing look. You feel your face burn. Of course. A potion to prevent motherhood. You tip your head back as your drink, draining the cup in its entirety. Loki watches you the whole time. A bead of liquid escapes the corner of your lips and slides down your neck. Without warning, Loki pulls you towards him and licks it.

You gasp, dropping the goblet on the floor. Loki’s tongue is warm and wet as it travels down your neck. He scrapes his teeth over the muscle, and it makes you shake beneath him. Your hands have found Loki’s waist, and they clutch at it. Loki hums in turn.

“What’s your name?” He asks, peppering kisses down your jawline. You tell him in a breathy voice. The prince smirks against your skin. “It suits you,” he murmurs. Loki guides you towards the bed, and you sit on the edge of it. He laughs, a charming noise, and shakes his head. “You’ll have to lay down, sweetheart,” he tells you. You swallow. That’s an awfully kind title from someone so scrutinized.

You begin to lay back, your shoes falling from your feet, but Loki stops you once again. You begin to feel even more self conscious. You’re not good at this. You don’t know what you’re doing.

“Take off your dress,” he commands softly. You tense. You knew this was coming - but you already feel exposed. And Loki will be the first to see you like this.

He smiles at your uncertainty. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll go first.”

Loki strips silently, efficiently. His beauty becomes more obvious with every garment he discards. His skin is flawless, which you don’t quite understand. You often hear Thor regaling any willing audience with tales of battles, and you’re more than certain Loki is present at them. But his skin has no scars, no marks. It’s pristine.

You want to touch it.

You know Loki is strong, which might be why his smallness catches you off guard. As he grows closer, you can see his muscles moving. They’re prominent, but not in the same way Thor’s are. Loki’s muscles are lithe, for movement and use. Thor’s are for decimation and show.

You can’t help but reach out to run a hand over Loki’s milky chest. Your thumb catches his nipple, and the prince’s breath hitches. Your head shoots up, like you’ve done something wrong, but Loki says nothing. He puts his hand over yours, guiding it over his sternum and toned abdomen until it’s nestled in the coarse black curls of his groin. Your heartbeat quickens.

Loki’s... cock is turning towards you. It doesn’t seem to be fully erect yet, but then you wouldn’t know. You marvel at it, the reddened tip and heavy balls. You swallow.

“What do I... do to it?” You ask. Loki looks confused, just for a moment.

“You kiss it,” he explains, pressing your hand against it. You jerk as his cock grows under your touch, but Loki’s grip keeps you with him. “Stroke it. Take it into your body, if you’ll allow me.” Loki’s brow pinches together slightly. “Darling, have you never been with a man?”

Your face burns. You want to exclaim that yes, of course you have, how dare he suggest otherwise, but Loki is the god of lies. He’ll spot yours in a heartbeat.

“No,” you answer, looking away. This is humiliating. Even worse is the arousal growing between your legs, the wetness coating your thighs. You want this.

“Woman?” You shake your head. No one. You’ve been with no one. “Alright.” Loki says. “There’s nothing the matter,” he tells you. Loki releases your hand, tilting your chin so you look at him. “So long as you want it, that is.”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate. Desperate, even. Loki smirks.

“Then take off your dress,” he tells you.

You sit up straight, reaching behind yourself to untie the lace of your bodice. Carefully, you peel the article of clothing over your head, leaving you bare aside from your soaked panties.

Loki pulls you towards him. Your legs falls around his hips, his hardened self pressing against your clothed core. You cry out at the sensation - it feels electric. You like it.

“Shh,” Loki shushes you, then places his mouth on the curve of your breast. You let out a small oh. Goosebumps form all over your body, and you reach up to thread your fingers through Loki’s hair. He bites down on your nipple unexpectedly, and you yelp, harshly pulling on his curls. Loki grunts, then pushes you flat on the bed.

“Careful, girl.” He says mischievously. “You don’t know what you’re getting into with that.” Excitement thrums through your body. Maybe you’ll know someday.

Loki settles himself between your legs. You lift your hips, taking off your panties and tossing them aside. Loki sucks on the softness of your thigh in response.

“Good girl,” he praises you. You keen under the title.

Loki looks at the juncture between your legs with an intensity. He reaches out, stroking your puffy lips to see how you’ll respond. You jump at the touch.

“Relax,” he coaxes you. His fingers begin to slide over your slit, then circle your entrance. You whimper. “You’re fine. Your body wants this, sweet. Look.” He holds up his two fingers, shiny with your slick. You squirm.

Without warning, Loki thrusts his index finger into you, and you let out a cry. You grip the sheets between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut. The feeling is overwhelming.

Loki says your name a few times, keeping his finger entirely still. You don’t move at all, or at least, you don’t think you do. Loki lays a heavy hand over your belly, moving it in soothing circles around your navel.

“Tell me how it feels,” he says. A second finger begins prodding at your entrance. You clench.

“I- I don’t know,” you manage. It’s new.

“Does it hurt?” You can hear something new in Loki’s voice. Concern.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I...”

“I have to move it to make it feel better,” Loki tells you gently. You look at him nervously.

“Okay.”

Loki places a small kiss on your hip, then slides another finger in. Your face contorts at it, but you will yourself to relax. Slowly, Loki’s fingers begin to move, obscene sounds filling the air. Loki was right - with each thrust of his fingers, the feeling becomes less foreign. You can feel Loki’s steady breath on your clit as well, and it all soon becomes more pleasure than pain.

“How does it feel now?” You blink hazily.

“Not - Not what I thought.”

“Not what you thought?” Loki asks amusedly. “You just told me you were untouched.”

“The other maids,” you say, forgetting the possible insult of your words. Loki slows.

“And what did they have to say?”

You freeze. You’ve offended him. Palace gossip has no place in bedsheets.

“Just that... your fingers made them full.” You stumble over your words.

“And my fingers don’t make you feel that way?”

“No. Yes! I...” you try to straighten your thoughts. “That’s not the right word.”

“Then what is?”

“I'm not sure,” this is too new for you to describe. “They’re... long. Nimble. It’s like you already know me. I feel like you’re reaching inside my entire body, not just my... my...”

“Pussy?” Loki finishes for you. Your cheeks burn.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” you tilt your head, looking over Loki’s face. He’s pensive. “Sit up.” He commands suddenly. You do so with effort. Loki free hand snakes around you, resting on the small of your back to keep you steady. “Look at that, sweet.”

Your eyes drop towards your wet sex. You whimper at the sight. You can’t even see Loki’s fingers. They’re buried to the knuckle, disappearing deep inside you. His thumb flicks over your clitoris, and you let out a breath.

“Do you want that to be my cock?” He asks you. You nod, reaching forward to clutch his shoulders. “It’s going to hurt more than my fingers. You’re so tight, sweet, and I might be too big for you.”

“Try,” you rasp, looking your prince in the eye. “We can try.”

Loki brushes a few hairs from your face, and then leans forward to press his lips against yours. His tongue is wet and heavy, massaging your own. You moan.

“Well then,” he says, drawing his fingers out. They’re wet, and just barely tinged with blood. Loki brings them to his mouth, licking them clean. “Lay back.”

#loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #smut #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson smut #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader

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reminiscingtonight · 3 years

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Accidentally In Love

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1948

Anon asked: Heyy!!! I’ve seen all of your posts are si angst! Y love them! Can you please maybe do one with accidentally in love with Wandaxfem!reader?

A/N: Yes, I agree, most of my posts are pure angst. I swear I can write things that aren’t super sad tho. Get ready for a whole lot of pure teeth-rotting fluff. I’m assuming this person wanted “Accidentally in Love” by Counting Crows. Sorry if I did the wrong song.

I’ve been pretty busy lately and haven’t had much time to write, but pt. 3 of Better By Now is in the works, I promise. Still not quite sure when it’ll be out, but thanks for waiting!

Taglist: @mionemymind

It was all Natasha’s fault.

Last week the redhead threw a magazine right at your head, one of those trashy gossip magazines that you didn’t know why she read but were honestly too afraid to ask her about.

To be fair, you thought it was an overreaction. All you had been doing was talking to Nat about the dog you saw when you were out on a walk with Wanda (“I honestly don’t know who was cuter in that moment, the dog or Wanda.”). The only warning you got was a slight twitch of her eye before it hit you in the face. You watched with confusion as Natasha stormed away, exasperatedly sighing something along the lines of ‘read the article and get your shit figured out’ over her shoulder.

You had rolled your eyes when you caught sight of the article name. 8 Signs She’s in Love with You.

But now you couldn’t think of anything but those eight points.

---

1. She calls you by a nickname

Wanda loves nicknames and pet names. She’s given everyone at the compound one. Tony’s was ‘douchebag’ (it’s not really cute at all but she got a free pass with that one, seeing as he was responsible for her parents’ deaths). Natasha’s was ‘Nattie’ (Natasha’s got a soft spot for the witch. The last time you tried calling her that she threw a knife at your head). Bucky’s was ‘darling’ (you’re not really sure why she calls him that but he blushes every time she does it. You tried it once and he called for Natasha. You ran.)

Come to think of it, you did have a lot more than the others. (Y/N/N), honey, babe… really, it all depended on Wanda’s mood.

---

2. She’s always super touchy

Wanda likes touching people. Simple as that. She once told you that she likes the grounding sensation, the reassurance that the person’s still there (you cried at how sweet that was, but that’s beside the point).

---

3. She always compliments you

Wanda’s literally the nicest person you know. She compliments everyone all the time. Just last week you saw her compliment Peter’s latest upgrades on his web shooters. So many nice things were said that he turned bright red out of embarrassment. She was so confused when you pulled her away from the poor boy before his face could match the shade of his spandex.

---

4. She laughs at your jokes

…You’re funny. You’re willing to fight anyone who disagreed.

(“My grandma can make better jokes than you, (Y/N).” “Shut up, Romanoff. No one asked you.”)

---

5. She always licks her lips

Okay, so you have noticed that Wanda had a habit of licking her lips whenever the two of you are together. But that can be easily explained away. Maybe she just has dry lips.

---

6. She stares at you a lot, especially when you aren’t watching

(“I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, how am I supposed to know this one?”

“Are you serious, (Y/N)? I can’t tell if you’re being purposefully dense. I don’t know anyone other than the two of you that can eyefuck all the time without actually fucking. I can confidently tell you that Wanda looks at you as much as you do her.”

You pause. “But like--”)

Safe to say, the jury’s still out on this one.

---

7. She’s relaxed around you

Out of everyone on the team, Wanda was the most relaxed around you. You had seen her at her worst more times than you could count. You were the first one to reach out to her when she first joined the team, so really it’s no surprise that she trusts you enough to let down her guard in your presence.

---

8. She likes spending time alone with you

Well you sure hoped she did. You guys hang out all the time. But isn’t that something best friends do?

(“Friends hang out maybe two times a week. Not every fucking minute of every fucking day.” “Again, no one asked you, Nat.”

... “But we’re best friends. That’s different...right?”)

---

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. The two of you had been friends ever since Wanda joined the team. Bruce would often joke that you two were attached at the hip, and in a sense he was right, you guys do everything together: missions, coffee runs, clothes shopping. There also wasn’t a single thing that Wanda didn’t know about you, and you about her.

But then again, that kind of meant Natasha was right in calling you out. Somewhere along the lines things did change. You found yourself actively seeking out the young witch’s touch if you were together. You started looking forward to whenever you would see her, and when she was off doing something without you, you were lethargic and mopey. You even treasured the lingering ‘I don’t want to go’ cheek kisses that often accompanied goodbye hugs.

Oh shit. Am I in love with my best friend?

It all came to a head the next day when the two of you went out. Wanda had been complaining about the long week she’s had so you decided to treat her to some ice cream.

Usually you would be ecstatic, pointing at all the flavors and debating which one was the best fit for the day. But today you were silent as you ordered the ice cream, still deep in your thoughts.

“What’s the problem, babe?”

You look up to see Wanda’s concerned face gazing back at you. You shrug. “I don’t know.” Your response earns you a worried look.

She soothingly grabs your free hand and you feel your heart jump at the contact. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”

Her words barely register in your mind, as all you can think of is the contrast of temperatures of your two hands. The hand clutching the ice cream cone was stark cold while the other was suddenly burning hot in her warmth.

A part of your mind knows that you’ve been silent for way longer than is socially acceptable, but your brain doesn’t seem to be working at the moment.

You only look up when you feel a small squeeze of your hand. Wanda’s still looking at you, only now her ice cream was offered to you with a slight tilt to her hand. When she doesn’t release your intertwined hands, you gulp with realization that she intends you to lean into her space to taste it. What the fuck?

You don’t miss the way her eyes seem to darken when you lean over to taste the dessert. The flavor of the treat never registers in your mind, as you’re too preoccupied with trying to slow your beating heart down. That, of course, all flies out the window, the second you lean back and see something akin to hunger in her eyes.

“Sorry, you just have…” Wanda trails off, letting go of your intertwined hands, thumb moving to wipe at the corner of your mouth. Any thoughts about missing the warmth of her hand disappears the second she sucks her finger into her mouth.

Your brain short circuits.

“Stop!” She freezes and you cringe when you see a look of hurt cross her face. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Wanda takes a step away from you, and you rush to explain your behavior, not wanting to hurt the brunette’s feelings any more than you already have.

“God I think I’m going crazy. Natasha showed me this article the other day and now I can’t think of anything but you and the stupid list from that stupid article.”

“Okay…” she looks confused, not really knowing where this is going. “And what does that article have to do with me?”

“I think I’m in love with you.” You see her eyes widen at your declaration. “And I’m pretty sure you are with me too. Well, at least according to the article.”

Your heart’s pounding now, palms sweating with nerves, but Wanda’s still silent, staring at you with wide eyes, so you continue. “I always thought we were just best friends. And now that I know how I feel, some part of me wants to ignore these feelings I have, but then the other part’s like ‘hey, what if she likes you back,’ ya know?”

She tilts her head a bit while taking in your words, and you instantly know you’re fucked. Nothing good ever happens when she does her head tilt. Crap. Did I read this whole thing wrong? Panicking, you barrel on, randomly spewing out words to explain yourself in hopes that she won’t throw you into the sun. “I mean, it’s totally okay if you don’t like me. But you’re really sending all these mixed signals. Like number three said that you give me compliments, which you do, but you also do that for everyone, and--”

“Hold on. Wait.” Wanda holds up a hand and you instantly stop talking. “You’re not sure if I like you?”

“Uh, yes?”

Wanda stares at you as if she can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “I thought we were dating.”

You blink. “I’m sorry. What?”

By now your ice cream is already melting in your grasp, but you could honestly care less at this point. What is she talking about?

“Last month on the rooftop. When you made me dinner? You were rambling about the stars and then you ended it with ‘Wanda, I just want you to know that I really, really, really care about you’.”

“And…”

“And I thought that was you telling me you liked me!”

You stand there, mouth hanging wide open. All you could remember from that night was thinking she looked really pretty against the candlelight, underneath the stars. Her emerald eyes were sparkling and her hair looked so-- Oh shit. Fuck. “Well I...I do like you.”

“Oh my god, (Y/N).” She covers her face with her one free hand, face flushing red.

You fight the urge to laugh at her as you realize you don’t mind the sudden change in direction this conversation has taken. And then a thought strikes you. “Wait, if you thought we’ve been dating for a month, why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Her hand doesn’t move, but she mumbles something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Wanda’s hand still doesn’t move away, but she repeats herself again, louder this time. “I thought you just wanted to take things slowly.”

A moment passes. And you really couldn’t hold it back anymore.

She peeks out from underneath her hand, watching you warily as you double over in laughter. “Oh geez, well I’m embarrassed now.”

Your chuckles die down as you reach for her hand, finally taking it into yours.

“Don’t be. We accidentally fell in love, there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s the best type of way to fall in love.”

There’s a look of adoration in her eyes that you find yourself returning.

“So you’re in love with me, huh?”

You smile back. “Of course I am, who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, then I think there’s only one thing left to do.” You raise an eyebrow at her sudden nonchalant tone of voice. “Kiss me?”

No sooner were the words out of her mouth, you swoop in and press your lips to hers. It was heavenly. Her lips were soft under your own, and you could taste the remnants of something like strawberry.

When you guys break apart her eyes are still closed. Wanda has a look of bliss written across her face, but you only have one thing on your mind.

“Wait. Who the hell ever gets strawberry ice cream?!”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #mcu x reader #song fic #Ace writes

1K notes · View notes

folkloreguk · 3 years

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an angel for a demon (3)

A/N: Here's the last part of this small series! You don't necessarily need to read all of them to understand this one, but it does probably make more sense if you do. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated! Have a good day x

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), demon!bias, angel!reader, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), reader gives her first bj

words: ~ 6.7 k

PART1 (M)

PART2 (M)

“I’m going out to pick up some food and stuff, do you want to come along?” you heard him ask. You had your legs up against the wall, your back on the bed, and a magazine in your hands. The women on the pages had you gushing, on the verge of hypnotization. You swore if you looked at those infatuating pictures one minute longer, you’d be swallowed whole by them.

When you had worked your way through some science books and were still hungry for more to read, H/N had brought you some magazines, mostly about fashion but also gossip and lifestyle tips. Turns out letting a clueless angel read about what’s supposed to be good for women was not a smart idea. Up in the clouds, from where you used to watch earth’s women, they had all looked equal to you – beautiful, intelligent, and capable. Now, down in the reality of it all, things appeared much more complicated. Which angel could have known it took diets, workout routines, anti-aging creams and the perfect outfit for your body type to be viewed the same way you had always looked at women from above? And most importantly, how did any woman manage to uphold all these expectations the magazines named? It was all too much and seemingly impossible. Abruptly, you were pulled out of your train of thoughts.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” he asked, peaking his head through the door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, putting down the magazine on your chest. “No, I’d like to stay here.”

“Alright,” he said, “Would you like me to bring you anything from the store?”

He walked over to you and sat on the bed. His hands softly brushed over your hair, down your cheek and neck, barely touching your collarbones. He was in his black, intimidating clothes, per usual, but his eyes held nothing but fondness for you.

“Actually, maybe there is something,” you said. “Look.”

You picked up the magazine and pointed at the page.

“Can you buy me a dress like this one? They say it would fit me best. And could you get some makeup for me? I don’t know much about it, but maybe you-“ you said. Usually, he was one to listen carefully to every of your words, as if you were the most interesting person he had ever met. This time, he interrupted you.

“Stop. Where is this coming from?” he asked. “I want you to forget all those things you’ve read in those magazines, okay?”

You were confused, thinking you were learning by reading those articles. Gently, he caressed your face. “You know I’ll buy you anything in the world, right? But only if that’s what youwant. Everything they tell you to do, everything they tell you to buy, it’s brainwashing. You will wear whatever dress you find pretty, and if you want to wear makeup, that’s fine. But you will only do those things if you want to do them, okay? There’s nothing you need to change about yourself.”

“But they say you need to start early to get a nice body, and to prevent aging,” you said. “They say men will admire me.”

“We’re immortal, my angel,” he said. “And even if we weren’t, what’s wrong with growing old? Wouldn’t you want the traces of your experiences to be visible on your skin? Those companies, they all just want your money and so they try to scare you into believing you’re not good enough. But truth is, you always are. All those times people tug on their skin in front of a mirror, or whenever they break a sweat trying to lose weight, or when they compare themselves to those who look different from them – they’re already good enough. They’re perfect. This worlds wants you to never be at peace with who you are. But you need to promise me you won’t succumb to those nonsensical tactics to make you hate yourself. And don’t you ever wait for a man to give you approval. That’s your job and your job only.”

You listened, wide-eyed and intrigued. No magazine could ever speak so honestly, and you believed every word he said. After all, you trusted him much more than some random author of an article that was trying to sell you the latest weight loss-magic-powder.

“Okay, I promise.” You sat up and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’ve never even really thought about it, but I think I’m pretty.”

“Not thinking about it might just be the best way to go about it in this world,” he said, and placed a kiss on your forehead. The feeling of warmth lingered on your skin seconds after he had already pulled away.

“I change my mind, then,” you said, “Do you think you can get me a dress like this?”

You showed him a different picture this time. It showed a lot more skin than the one you had pointed out before. You only realized this when he was already smirking at your choice.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “That’s an interesting option, angel.”

“Hey! I just like the color, alright?” you defended yourself, making him chuckle. Over the course of four weeks, you had come to know his insinuations and his little jokes better. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the incredible sensation his eyes on you gave you. When he goggled at you because you had decided to wear his shirt for a day, or the way he watched you welcome him with open arms when he came home.

You now understood that certain words or actions, or even just an article of clothing – or lack thereof – could conjure an insatiable hunger in his eyes. At first, it was a little scary, having a demon stare you down as if he wanted to eat you up. But now that you knew what his hands felt like on your skin, and that his lips were made for much gentler actions than to hurt you, you wanted nothing more than to coax the starving demon into playing with you, any chance you got. And perhaps that dress in the catalogue would do just that, and not only bring you joy. It was a win-win, really.

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” he said. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I always do,” you said.

“I’ll give you all the missed attention when I get home, alright?” he said, bending down to your ear. “You can have whatever you want, then.”

To be honest, half of the time you didn’t know what you wanted him to do. But with every time his hands explored your body you learned more. There were so many things humans did to make each other feel good, you doubted you’d ever be able to try everything. His promise made you wish he was already back home when he had barely stepped out of the door. One last grin and nod and he left you alone.

What did angels do on a Saturday noon? Usually, you’d be patrolling your village, entertaining yourself by watching children play tag, admiring lovers walking hand in hand or discovering a family that had just adopted a small animal. Their human eyes shined when they felt happiness, and it was infectious to you. You wanted to send your blessing to all of them, make sure they never felt anything but delight, but you knew that wasn’t how business worked down there. Some things were even out of your control. Now, on earth, you were ready to take whichever hardships were to come if it meant you could have been with your demon lover.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You had only gotten up an hour ago. Last night, you had been kept awake for long. He was untiring when he was between your legs. You had learned that he didn’t need nearly as much sleep as you did, and when he set his mind to making you come by his administrations, he didn’t waver to do so. But losing sleep in exchange for pleasure was okay with you. Time became meaningless, either way, when you had your face buried in a pillow, tears threatening to spill over from how good he made you feel. Sometimes he made you come while sitting in his lap, then you’d cling to him like a baby and muffle your whimpers by pressing your lips against the skin of his shoulder. He loved telling you ‘Look at me’ right when you were falling. It was hard to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head or not to collapse in his arms, but for him you would try your best. Often you found your thoughts lingering on the memory of his gaze when you came apart under his touch. It had something of fascination and protectiveness, and you’d never get enough of it.

Great, now you wanted him again. And he wasn’t here. How had you gotten this way? On occasion you wondered if one of the other angels had already spotted you and the sins you were committing. You wouldn’t call them sins now, or ever again. It wasn’t like you wanted to adapt to a demon lifestyle. But you felt at home for the first time, here on earth. It was the perfect grey zone between heaven and hell.

As an attempt to appease your needy mind, you picked up your magazine again. Just because you shouldn’t believe everything they said didn’t mean you shouldn’t have read it at all, right? You flipped through articles on fitness and the newest fashion, but after skimming the pages for only a few seconds, you were done with those tips. He wanted you because of who you were – an angel – and you doubted than any beauty routine could make him more obsessed with you than he already was. But then you read something most curious to your angel eyes. ‘How to make him feel best – tips from a porn star’ the title said. Whatever in the heaven a porn star was, they seemed to be some sort of expert on pleasuring men, and you, always eager to learn something new, were intrigued from the very first word.

But soon you had to admit, you weren’t at all sure what they were referring to with those words and actions. When you and your demon boyfriend had sex, he usually did most of the work, while you took whatever teasing or pleasure he inflicted on you. He had said he liked it this way, but now you weren’t so sure. Or was this ‘10 things to do become a blowjob-pro’ – list just another attempt of society to brainwash women? You weren’t one to initiate talk about sexual stuff, but maybe you’d try to question him on the meaning of what you had read.

You flipped another page and finally you had arrived at a page you could work with. It was a bunch of comfort food recipes. Right away you fell in love with the picture of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the top right corner. H/N had promised you to teach you how to cook, but so far you hadn’t made much progress. The difficulty level read beginner, and five minutes later you stood in the kitchen. With some music in the background your enthusiasm only sparked more. Baking was new and came with slight overwhelmingness and the stress of making sure you weren’t forgetting to add any ingredient. But the Christmassy scent of cinnamon and the feeling of making something from scratch made you happy, and with rapt attention you finished your first completed recipe ever.

You wiped some flour off your forehead. Hopefully H/N would like the cinnamon rolls too, because as tasty you found your creation, there was no way you were able to devour them all by yourself. As if on cue, you suddenly heard the key slide into the lock of the front door. Probably prompted by the heavenly scent, he called your name.

“Here,” you answered, mouth full of a bite of cinnamon roll. When he walked in, he already had his famous smirk on his face. It was your favorite. You knew it was reserved only for you.

“What did you make?” he asked. But he had his answer when he saw the baked goods in front of you. He set down the bags and put his arms on your waist from behind. With a hum, you lifted the cinnamon roll to his lips, and he took a bite. He almost moaned at the taste and you grinned.

“Do you like them?” you asked, already knowing the answer but still awaiting more praise. You squealed a little at how quickly he spun you around. His nose touched yours and your heartbeat raced.

“It’s like they came with you straight from heaven,” he said. “Hmm…I missed my angel.”

His lips when he kissed you tasted like sugar and spice and you melted straight into his touch. You only noticed he had run his finger over the gooey leftover icing when it was already too late. He was a demon after all. And if demons were good at one thing, it was causing mischief.

“Hey,” you protested at his hands on your neck. Then your reaction quickly altered as his finger slid lower, down to your collar bones and to where your low-cut shirt started. “Great, now I’m all sticky.”

You didn’t understand at first that messing with you wasn’t his full intention. But he tilted his head to the side and ran his hot tongue over the icing on your skin, and you gasped suddenly. This wasn’t just a joke. He wanted you. He made a humming noise, as if the sweetness combined with your own taste were only complimenting each other. When he pulled down the neckline of your shirt a little, so he could have every last drop of the sugary substance on your skin, you couldn’t help but whimper. You wanted so desperately for him to do it again, that you thought about sticking your own fingers into the bowl of icing and smearing it on your chest. His eyes were playful when he looked up at your reaction.

“Oh no. If you’re all sticky I guess you’ll need a shower, will you?” he said, “What a coincidence. I was thinking of taking one, just now.”

You had never taken a shower with him, or anyone, for that matter. But you had a feeling that the both of you wouldn’t be keeping to yourself, standing naked in front of each other. You didn’t mind. And you guessed your approval was written on your face, because he pulled you in and kissed you hard. Again, you remembered the article you had read. Was now a good time to ask him about it?

While you were contemplating, his tongue slid over your bottom lip and met yours. You had been too shy to ask before, but now you were speechless. Gently, he grabbed your hand and led you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. You were a mess of lips and tongues and hands and feet stumbling over each other. Every few meters you stopped to push yourself close against him. It was like a game of who could go without kissing each other for longer. And you were both lousy at it.

He loved pushing you up against the wall, trapping you between his arms on each side of your head. This way, he could brush up against your shaking body and you had nowhere left to go. Needless to say, you had no intentions of getting away, no matter what. He knocked the breath out of your lungs, and you kissed him back like you could breathe him in instead. As if he had become your new source of oxygen, or whatever it was you really needed to survive. It these moments, air seemed like a subsidiary matter. So long as you had his hot tongue licking down your neck and his busy hands on your ass under your dress, nothing else truly mattered.

Your kisses were open-mouthed and far more confident than they had been only weeks ago. You now knew how much he liked when you grabbed his hair tightly, or when you whispered his name against his devouring lips, as if it was the only word you had ever been taught. Like it was the only word you ever wanted to know. Before you had even made it to the bathroom, half of your clothes were scattered somewhere along the way.

“I can’t believe I just had you yesterday and here I am already missing you this much again,” he mumbled against your earlobe, teeth playing with your soft skin. “You really are otherworldly. There’s no other explanation.”

His words made you feel proud. The pleasure was one thing you had come to love quickly, but then you noticed the power you could have over him, by merely existing. It was almost unbelievable, but there he was, hard and needing you, day by day. Again, your mind wandered off to the magazine article.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice must had been different from your usual timid tone when you were in the middle of something unholy.

“Anything, angel,” he said. He let his lips linger on your cheek, half an inch from your mouth, and your stomach twisted in how badly you wanted him to sip on your lips like he was starving.

“Do you like always doing everything when we- ,“ you said. He gave you a puzzled expression, so you tried to explain yourself better. “I mean, if you ever want me to do more, you can ask me to. I don’t know everything yet, but I can learn.”

You weren’t even sure if you understood what the heaven you had just stammered. His look reminded you of the one he had when you asked him to buy him the dress and the makeup that morning.

“I love what we have, little angel,” he said, “What’s making you think you need to do anything differently?”

How were you supposed to explain what you had read when you hadn’t even properly grasped it yourself? You opted for taking his hand and walking him to the bedroom. There the magazine still lay, like an ancient cursed book you weren’t sure you wanted to know front to back. You picked it up and quickly handed him the article. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you opted to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

His lips curled into a devilish grin upon eyeing the page, and you thought the ground might swallow you whole. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all and spared yourself the embarrassment. But at the same time, you were eager to know.

“I thought I told you, magazines are just trying to make you doubt yourself,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I know, but if there’s anything I can do to make you feel as good as you make me feel, I want to do it,” you confessed. He bent down, cupping your face.

“No one’s ever felt as good to me as you have, angel,” he said, “You’re heaven to me. Do you understand that?”

With your mouth squished together slightly, you nodded your head that was in his hands.

“By the devil, you’re so adorable,” he said. “If you really want to know, though, I’ll show you.”

Even more eagerly, you nodded again. He chuckled. You couldn’t handle how handsome he was – all messy hair, bare chest and black eyes that made you dream of the most unholy things possible.

“You remember how I kiss you…down there?” he asked. You hummed, cheeks on fire. “And how I’ve asked you to put your hands on my cock before?”

You did. But it had been brief, only a few pumps and small touches, until he had become too needy. You had been whining so deliciously for him to fuck you and so he had to have you on the spot.

“In the way you touched me then…you could use your mouth on me. Make me come with your perfect lips and sweet hands,” he said. “If that’s what you want, too.”

“I do!” you said with enthusiasm that only an angel at the feasibility of making someone’s day could bring on. “Let’s postpone that shower.”

The pride in his eyes lasted for approximately two seconds before the raw hunger replaced it. He climbed onto the bed and pat his thighs. On command, you settled on his lap. The simple feeling of his bulge under your center, even if interrupted by some fabric, made your head dizzy and your stomach drop. You kneaded your hands, not sure where to touch him first. But just as he always did to you, you had the impulse to start by his head and go lower from there. Although you were on top of him, he looked amused at your shy eyes.

“Can I kiss your neck, like you always kiss mine?” you asked.

“Be my guest,” he said, grinning like he had just won the lottery. Your lips met his skin and you used your tongue the way you had felt him do it. His scent was intoxicating. It made the empty bedsheets you breathed in sometimes, when he left in the middle of the night for his demon antics, seem like nothing. You used your hands to stabilize yourself as you moved lower. The hiss he let out when you felt up on his abs and waistline almost scared you. Then you realized it was a good sign. Only for the blink of an eye you dared to graze your teeth on his skin. His reaction was immediate.

“Shit,” he cussed, “That’s my angel.”

So, he liked that. You couldn’t wait to tease him by biting him in the future. Provoking a demon would have sounded like something close to a death wish to you, had you thought about it months ago. Now, with a demon as tame as they come beneath you, the thought only excited you. As he liked to do, you touched him through his boxers while you continued your journey down his chest and stomach. The guttural moan he released made your head spin and you never wanted him to be quiet. Usually, you weren’t in a mind state to notice his groans, or your own noises were covering his.

“You’re doing so good, little angel,” he said, short of breath. Once again, your effect on him surprised you. Where was the intimidating, big bad demon you had been taunted by?

“I’m gonna fuck you so well for this,” he said, “Even the angels in heaven will hear you scream. Wouldn’t you like that?”

There he was. You pressed your legs together at the simple mention of him inside of you, but if he thought you were going to answer, he’d be waiting endlessly. You still had enough respect for your angels not to think of them in this moment. Nonetheless you hummed weakly. When you got to his hipbone, you hesitated. You drowned out your doubts by kissing him there, while you contemplated what to do next. Your hand was still wrapped around his clothed cock. It was rock hard, and a wet spot had formed on the fabric from how much he needed you. When your touch became softer, and you pulled your hands away slowly, he lifted his hips, not wanting you to stop. You supposed this was the part where you took off his boxers. At least he didn’t complain when you pulled them off his legs, so you assumed you were still on the right track.

Watching his face for signs of approval, your hand wrapped around his length. He almost seemed electrified at your touch. His jaw dropped slightly, and his hooded eyes somehow appeared even darker than usual.

“Just like that,” he said, “And now move your hand up and down.”

So you did. As you regarded your hand around his shaft, all you could think about was how it used to be. How did your hands, that were usually folded neatly in your lap while you looked down on earth, end up doing such ungodly things? And how come you didn’t even for a second feel guilty?

“Angel, you’re so good to me,” he moaned. Angel. That’s what he loved to emphasize. But was that what you were, still? Maybe you would simply stop putting yourself in a box. Perhaps you were just you, doing what you felt was right and would make you happy. And right now, having a demon clench his fists in your hair and saying your name in that tone, you couldn’t think of a lot of incidents that had made you happier. Was this the part where you should use your mouth? You weren’t sure, but your eyes jumped from his cock to his face and it caught his eyes.

“You can take me in your mouth if you want. If you ever feel like stopping, just do so,” he encouraged you, “But remember, no teeth there, okay?”

You grinned and nodded. You parted your lips and your tongue placed kitten licks on the underside of his member. When you reached the top, you took him between your lips, mirroring the motion of your hands around him. You were surprised at how comfortable you were, when ten minutes ago you were ready to personally descend to hell from embarrassment. There was something enticing about the power you possessed in that moment. You understood humans just a little better, once again. Knowing that the way he bucked his hips and his groans were caused by you and only you had you smiling inwardly. It was a way you had never caught yourself smile before. You felt brave, and like you could do anything, with a demon so at your pity.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out where he was most sensitive. Whenever you pressed your tongue against the tip of his cock, he let out a sigh. It was almost like relief, as if he had been waiting for you all his life. And now here you were, granting him all his wishes. You bobbed your head, but kept your attention on his sweet spot, his moans just too delightful not to evoke them on purpose.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he said. Often, you looked up at him. His lids fluttered from the pleasure, but he seemed to like it when you made eye contact. For a moment, you lifted your head, needing some air. Gently, he caressed your face, like you were made of precious porcelain.

“Which one of my dreams did you escape from, little angel?” he asked. You smiled sheepishly, lowering your head. Again, you wrapped your lips around his length. You wondered what he was thinking about. Was his mind as free from any worries as yours whenever he fucked you? Was he able to form any coherent thoughts or was his brain going into the same mental blackout you always experienced?

You continued the way you had, sucking the tip of his cock while your hand pumped him. From time to time, you took a breather and pulled away. Little did you know what you were doing to him. With the short intervals of your lips on him and the pauses in between, you unknowingly made everything more intense for him. It was a dangerous game of edging him you were playing, and you were outright unaware of it.

But why would he have complained? In that moment, you were his personal guardian angel, making sure all his needs were fulfilled. When he saw your lips, all red and puffy, he asked himself where you had been hiding all this time. You peeked up at him through your angel eyes and he felt his entire world become whole in front of him. He was completely and absolutely at your mercy, inebriated by your entire being. Never in his long time on earth had he seen someone so ravishingly beautiful, yet so unaware of their might. He swore to himself in that moment, he’d do anything to make you love him forever.

As divinely as you were treating him, he suddenly wanted you in a different way. And if you continued your sweet actions, he wasn’t sure if that would still be possible. He gently cupped your head, making you look up. You hummed in question.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, “Let me give back to you, won’t you? Does my angel want some attention, too?”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t practically touch-starved at this moment. And having been taught to always be truthful, you nodded before you even knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes?”

When you got up to slip out of your dress, your legs were weak. You hadn’t even done anything, and yet your body felt heavy. All you wanted was to go back to him and have him so close, it felt like he could have been a part of you. As much as you had felt on top of the world minutes ago, his hungry eyes made you shrink inwardly. But it wasn’t out of fear. It was almost admiration, or rather anticipation. You knew he knew your body inside out, and you couldn’t wait for him to prove it to you.

“Come here, angel,” he said. You climbed back onto the bed. “Turn around for me, okay?”

You were on your knees, sitting up right, facing the headboard. His breath on your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. Then his hands snaked around your body from behind you. A small whimper left your lips when he ran them down your chest, fingers drawing small shapes on your breasts. They continued their way down your stomach and to your parted thighs. The cold air was hitting your dripping core, and had you not had enough self-control, you would have moaned at the mere sensation of his fingertips on the inside of your thigh. But maybe that was just what he was waiting for. After all, he was still taking his time with you. But in this instance, you knew what you wanted, and more importantly when you wanted it.

“Please,” you said. You weren’t sure what to say but starting with a ‘please’ was never a mistake.

“Please what?” he asked. You couldn’t see his face, yet you knew his devilish grin that must’ve been plastered on his face. He never missed a chance to make you shy. “Is this what you want?”

He slid two of his fingers down your slit slowly. It would forever be a mystery to you, how such a simple touch could put you in such a mental state of disarray. You whined at how needy you were, fighting the urge to press your legs together. In a second, his fingers were coated in your juices. When he pressed them against your opening, but didn’t push any further, your head spun with frustration. An impulse yelled at you to grab his hand and show him how you wanted him, but you sensed there was a specific aim in his teasing. Above that, you weren’t close to that brave. Purposely lightly, he rubbed circles onto your clit. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and your breaths came out in little, desperate noises.

Before meeting him, you never knew this sort of inability to control your body. Having power over your motions was an obviousness to you. But as with so many things in life, you had been wrong. Or rather, you had not known better. Now, with his lips brushing over the side of your exposed neck, you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted to do to you. If there was a noise or reaction he wanted to coax out of you, he could do so. And if evoking your little melodic whimper was his aim, he was on the right path, fingers teasing your pussy and flicking over your clit. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. In fact, he had a head so full of ideas of things you could do together, you doubted you’d ever start to get bored here.

“I want you…inside of me,” you said, surprising yourself. This was your desperate body taking control of your motor speech center, that little region in your brain that allowed you to let out what you wanted to say. Your cheeks were hot for only a moment, then you realized if it got you what you wanted so badly, speaking your mind was probably a fantastic idea. You should really do it more in the future, you thought.

“What my angel wants, my angel gets,” he said. Just for a few seconds, he moved his fingers much faster. You yelped at the sudden pleasure, your hand wrapping around his wrist. His other hand reached for your hand, softly taking it away as you became a whimpering puddle in his arms. You were ready to fall, give in to the pleasure and let go. It was what you so desperately wanted. But as quickly as it had begun, he removed his hands. His attention was gone, and you were left yearning for more.

“Lift your hips,” he said, softly touching your sides. A part of you wanted to cry out, hold him responsible for denying you your sweet release. But you knew it would be no use, and he would tell you to wait either way. You were still on your knees, but straightened up, arms hanging by your sides, waiting for his touch. He was right behind you, his upper body against yours. When you felt his cock run over your slick folds, you sighed at the awaited sensation. The stretch when he filled you up felt so perfect, so out of this world, you reached for his hand to hold on to.

“Why didn’t you ask me earlier if you wanted me so bad?” he asked. He squeezed your hand as his other pulled you flush against his back while he pushed himself further into you. He’d thrust against you for a while, only to pull out completely, and repeat the whole process. It was sending you into complete overdrive.

“Because I wanted to make you feel good,” you said. “Only you, for once.”

You moaned when he snapped his hips against your ass, picking up the pace. In an attempt to support your jittery legs, you grabbed the headboard in front of you. Your breathing came out in short huffs, uneven and a little shaky.

“You’re so sweet and selfless…my patient angel,” he said, his fingers coming in contact with your clit again. His touch was an allure to you, and you wished you could have stayed this way forever. No thoughts, just his body and his dark voice to sedate your mind. “I’ll give you anything you want. You know that, right?”

You hummed and nodded. “Yes. And I’ll do the same for you.” Your words were interrupted by your small whimpers. There had been a time you didn’t know what it felt like, when you didn’t even know there was a such thing of having someone inside of you. Now you couldn’t get enough of him. You were already so sensitive that every time he quickened his thrusts and moved his fingers on you slightly faster, he had you hanging right over the edge. And he could tell by the way you held your breath when you were close. He didn’t want you going there just yet.

“As much as I love your mouth around my dick, this is my favorite way of having you,” he said. He used both of his hands to dig into your sides, pulling your hips closer to him every time he dragged his cock through your walls. You agreed. Should any of your angels ever catch wind of this, they would ban you to earth – or worse, send you to hell. So be it, you thought. You’d be like your lover. One of the creatures of the darkness, thought to be the personification of sin. Even if they ripped your angel title from you, they could never steal away what you had now.

Yes, you were meddling with a demon, but also having the time of your life. It was vastly better than spending your days judging humans for being themselves and for humans living the true way they want to live, instead of abstaining from the simple pleasures of life. Their true colors shown, they weren’t harming anybody, but rather making the world a more acceptable and open-minded place. You aspired to be like them.

“This is my kind of heaven,” he said. It’s what he always called you. Heaven. He groaned when you clenched your walls around him, your inevitable high drawing closer.

“This is my new heaven…you are,” you replied. He chuckled darkly, probably relishing in your confession. The thought that he could make an angel reject the very place they should have belonged filled him with a sense of superiority.

“Look how well you’re taking me,” he said. His hand wrapped around your body, pulling you tighter. He slipped his hand between your legs again, and you almost felt like collapsing, had he not held on to you. On instinct, you closed your eyes and let the feeling crash over you.

“Let me see you come, little angel,” he spoke in your ear, just for you to hear. You would do anything for him. You quivered and buckled at the severity of the feeling, but he had you. Your moans were high and dragged out, as his digits pressed harder onto the sensitive nub on your center.

“Take just a little more for me, can you?” he asked. You obliged willingly, nodding your head while it was still full of nothingness. Even as he kept fucking you, it was pure bliss for another while. It made your legs shake a little, but you felt so safe there, in his embrace, the sensitivity was alright to handle. You could tell by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming that he was almost there, too. He was pressing you against his chest as if you were all he ever wanted. His moans sounded like home to you as he came. He said your name and bent forward, reaching for the headboard, but you both tumbled into the bedsheets together instead. You giggled at your shared clumsiness and you could feel his chest move from laughing as he was lying on top of your back.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said, “You’re amazing.”

You turned your head and his lips brushed along your temple, kissing you softly. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes so you could look at him. Seeing his beautiful face had you falling into an even deeper state of serenity.

“I want to cuddle,” he said, and it was probably the sweetest thing you had ever heard a demon say. As he rolled off you, you followed his movements and settled in his embrace. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, but neither of you cared enough to get up just yet.

“I love what you’ve done to me,” you said.

“What is it I have I done to you?” he asked, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your bare hips.

“You changed me. But not in a bad way. You let me be who I want to be and showed me that that’s okay,” you said, “You made me understand. Some sins aren’t that sinful at all.”

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vintage-writes · 3 years

Text

Because it's You (Part 1) | H.P. Lovecraft x Reader

Request: "BSD Lovecraft x female reader. What if the reader isn’t afraid of him and asks to see his true form and she thinks his true form looks cool? Soulmate au. Fluff to smut. Maybe he could use his ability in the smut part if that’s ok?"

Pairing: H.P. Lovecraft x Fem!Reader

Summary: (Soulmate AU), From birth you're soulmate has always been a mystery even his mark was hard to decipher but as he stands before you, you realize that there is far more to the man they call Lovecraft.

Warnings: NSFW, Fluff to Smut. The smut is right at the end so you are able to read until the warning. Dom!Lovecraft x Brat!Reader 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3363

A/N: By Far my longest fic yet and one of the more interesting ones to write. Lovecraft strikes me as a character that cares deeply but says very little when speaking with his s/o. As Always, Enjoy :)

“Soulmate Au, where you have a mark on your wrist that represents your soulmate that becomes colour when you meet them”

From birth you’ve always had a rather strange mark. Your parents figured that perhaps when you were older the mark would look a bit different but instead it remained in the strange shape. The mark appears to be sludge? A flower? It’s a rather messy pile of something, topped with bat wings? You’ve sat and tried to decipher it for years up until today, you’re still unsure as to what it could represent.

You even took up art classes and tried to redraw the mark with different shapes and colours. At the end of the day, you’re not sure what it means. You only hope that it’s not a pile of drugs topped with wads of cash or something. You wouldn’t want your soulmate to be some sort of drug dealer. In any case, those art classes paid off and you’re currently in charge of your own studio.

You walk down the street and breathe in the damp Yokohama air. The air is musty but it’s to be expected as your current route for the day leads you past the port. The port is loud and chatty, people are gossiping everywhere about Yokohama’s most recent events. You pick up keywords here and there such as: “Port Mafia”, “Guild”, “detectives” and so on and so forth.

You spot a nearby Hawker selling newspapers and you decide to ask him about the commotion. The man holds out a newspaper with an incredulous look. “You don’t know? It’s about the whale that dropped out of the sky the other day. Some organization from overseas was behind it. They’re also linking it to a car crash in the mountains. Bah! But I know nothing. You’ll have to buy a paper to know more.”

You give him your own incredulous look before purchasing a paper. You skim it as you walk and learn about the hero Agency. As you flip over the page your eye catches onto the photo. A tall figure shrouded in black is standing next to a short ‘farm boy’. The photo is somewhat grainy but clear enough to see that the man has sharp features. He looks quite handsome.

You shake your head. No. He’s a criminal. You skim through the rest of the article but the photo is just so eye-catching. You run a finger over the image. He has long hair that blends into his coat. It’s hard to tell just how long his hair is. A mysterious aura surrounds such a person, perhaps if you are lucky, you could one day sketch the planes of his face.

Right, because you’re definitely going to chase down the mystery man just to draw him. You roughly bundle up the newspaper and shove it into your bag. You look up and realise that along your walk you’ve obviously gotten a bit lost and have wandered into a deserted part of the harbour. You spin around quickly, intending to retrace your steps when you slam into a wall and topple over.

A wall? But you’ve just come this way. You raise your eyes and meet another pair of sharp purple ones. They are oddly striking. The figure stands in front of you, as tall and immovable as a statue. An odd sensation flushes over you and you suddenly feel as if you know this person. Of course, this is the striking man from the paper. His mysterious aura seems to have followed him off of the page and into reality.

He cocks his head at you, allowing long strands of hair to fall. His hair is as dark as ink and much longer than you had assumed.

“Sorry”, he mutters and extends his right hand towards. The invitation warms your heart. You swallow down the feeling, you’ve only met the man.

You latch on to his hand as he lifts you up gently. His fingers are very long and slender. He has the hands of an artist. They are also freezing cold. He looks down and pauses and while not letting go of your hand, he turns your intertwined hands so his wrist faces upwards. A beautiful Iris adorns his wrist. The colours are breathtaking in your eyes. The Iris is a truly a beautiful flower and his specific mark has captured the varying hues of purple and blue perfectly. It is your favourite flower and the flower that gave its name to your studio and a collection of paintings you’ve created.

You want to run your fingers over it but before you can do that, he flips his wrist over so that your mark now faces upwards. The odd mark has now been graced with an assortment of light greens. With shading the mark has become both clearer and yet all the more confusing. He eyes your mark and then his before he finally raises his eyes to meet your own. He scans your face before he lets go of your hand.

He leans down to pick up your bag before placing it into your arms. And without a word, he spins on his heel and begins to walk away.

What? Where the fuck does he think he’s going?

You sling your bag over your shoulder and follow after him. “Uh Hey, wait!”, you shout after him. “Can we talk?”

He doesn’t spare you a glance as you begin to jog to match his speed. You jog beside him but he seems intent on marching forward with his long legs. You’re sure he would walk through a wall at this rate.

“Please wait, can we just talk for two minutes? I’m not sure what I did but maybe if you tell me, I can fix it.”

Nothing. Talking really isn’t your strong suit but you absolutely have to speak to this man. His hard features barely flinch. You’re beginning to feel flustered and tears are welling up at the back of your eyes.

“Oi, Lovecraft, ‘been looking for you everywhere!”, a shout echoes.

The man, Lovecraft, finally stops in his tracks and looks back. A shorter man in overalls is sauntering down the pathway with a cocky smile on his face. Lovecraft looks him over once before turning his attention towards you.

“You should leave-”, he suddenly stops.

His eyes widen as he sees you. Your face has reddened and a few tears have slipped past. His face makes you want to cry harder and you bite your lower lip in frustration. He sighs before turning towards the other man and stepping in front of you.

“Go away, John.”

John throws him a confused look. He begins to circle you both but Lovecraft proceeds to shield you from the other’s sight.

“Now”,says Lovecraft.

John throws up his hands in surrender and says, “Alright. Alright. I’m leaving but you stay safe pal.”

He then turns and leaves but not without a few glances your way but Lovecraft doesn’t move until he’s out of sight.

Lovecraft turns and looks at you and you feel dwarfed by his size. He sighs, “Fine, two minutes.”

______________________________

You weren’t sure what exactly you wanted to say nor are you sure how serious he is about the time limit. Not wanting to try and win over your soulmate near the harbour surrounded by the tangy smell of oil and fish, you offer to go elsewhere to talk. He agrees and he follows you in silence. You decide that the time spent on the way doesn’t count. You walk side by side and he attracts a few curious looks. The hawker who sold you the newspaper gawks at you as you walk past obviously noticing the resemblance to the picture. You speed up your pace and decide to loop back to your design studio.

You unlock the door and step inside while gesturing to him to follow but his eyes are glued to the sign above the door. More specifically the iris flower that was painted on. The Logo of your design studio.

You laugh awkwardly, “Uhh yeah, I like Iris flowers. I like most plants in general but I think the iris is the best. I made an art series dedicated to the flower and it became quite popular so when I opened the studio I decided to use it as my logo.”

“This is your studio?”

He steps in and scans the surroundings. The studio is messy and you feel embarrassed for not cleaning it up better. Your studio is situated in an old building with tall windows that allow light to filter through. It’s nothing more than a few rooms stuffed with equipment, tables and chairs but it’s your pride and joy. Nothing has pleased you more in the past year then being able to teach students how to paint.

“Yeah, it’s not much.”

“Can I see the paintings?”

You smile sheepishly, “Unfortunately, they’re not here at the moment. They’re at the Art gallery. I do have one piece though that I kept for myself.”

You walk out the room and he trailers after you as you step into your private studio. On the back wall is a canvas with a foreboding size. It looms over the room but the colours are bright and peaceful. It depicts a field of blue and purple Iris flowers, with the closest one being painted in excruciating detail. Lovecraft doesn’t move but simply studies his wrist instead as though comparing the two images.

“So I guess, that’s where the Mark comes from”, you look down at your own mark, a creature that seems indescribably horrifying, “may I ask what this means?”

Lovecraft narrows his eyes at your wrist, “A very good reason to stay away from me. I’m not human.”

You stare at him. His tone doesn’t sound teasing but surely it’s a joke? Have you misread the room?

“I should go”

“NO!” you lunge forward and grab onto the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m not scared or anything.”

Perhaps the situation is strange but you were willing to put in the effort. You lick your chapped lips, his eyes lock onto this particular movement.

“Can we please just try.”

He stares at you carefully before nodding his head.

_______________________

Three months go by and you see him almost everyday. Sometimes he only visits you briefly between classes, sometimes he spends the day in the studio quietly sitting in the corner. He does very little but he constantly keeps watch. Generally though he is sleeping in the corner with his feet propped up while you hum a tune. He almost never bothers you. You also discovered that he has quite the liking for chocolate and ice cream. He often brings you sweet treats as a gift but eats them himself. You’ve decided to keep a few tubs of ice cream at the studio now.

While you two become closer you also took some initiative to look into the Guild which led you down a path of learning about Gifted. Eventually you convinced him to start going out with you. He seems unfamiliar with Japanese food and frankly, Japan as a whole.You are determined to show him what life is like in Yokohama. Today, you’ve convinced him to follow you to the beach.

“So the Guild is disbanded?”

He looks up at you surprised before he responds, “I never really worked for the Guild, I worked for Francis. We had a deal.”

“What was the deal?”

“Doesn’t matter now. The contract has been fulfilled,” he says. Lovecraft has a very strange way of talking. He speaks as little as possible and formally so. Sometimes it feels as though he is speaking in code though.

“Does this contract have to do with you not being human?”, you bite your lip as you throw the question out. This isn’t a subject you’ve touched on again.

“Yes”

“If you’re not human then what are you?”

“I’m not sure what humans would call me”, he pauses before standing up. The breeze catches onto his hair causing it to flutter around him. He faces you with his back to the sea and watches with a smoldering gaze, “Would you like to see.”

You nod. You do not wish to use words fearing that the nervousness you feel would reveal itself. It’s not exactly that you’re scared of him. If anything, you are more scared that your reaction may scare him. He has never been quite so vulnerable.

Slowly, his figure changes. His arms take on a green hue and begin to elongate. His neck straightens up and his eyes sink into his head. While he may have been tall before, nothing could quite prepare you for the creature he’s become. A mass of tentacles of an indescribable horror.

And you simply sit and stare. He does not remain like this for long though. Almost as though he is frightened that you may be scared, his figure shifts back to his original form.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting. But his true matches the mark on your wrist exactly. You approach him but he seems wary. Perhaps, in the past his real form has frightened many people.

You stop and watch him instead. This is the same man who brings you chocolate ice cream every week and then eats it all. Will nap the entire day before waking up and going to dinner with you. Will sleep through an entire movie with his head in your lap while you slip your fingers through his hair. You don’t think you could ever be scared of him.

“Are you scared?”

You shake your head as you step in front of him. “I think you look cool.”

He gives you an incredulous look while holding up his arm which slips into his other form by the turn of his wrist. Your hand gravitates toward it and you run a finger over the length. It’s smooth.

“I really do”, you say and cup his cheeks into your hand. It’s a bit of a stretch up but his look of surprise is precious. “It’s amazing, because it’s you.”

______ (18+)

The Door slams open as Lovecraft drags you into your bedroom. He doesn’t bother to shut the door behind you as he lifts you up and drops you onto the bed. You land heavily and bounce a little. Lovecraft eyes you as he slips his tie and coat off. You feel like a rabbit caught in a trap.

He sheds his shirt off as well but before his hand reaches his belt, he stops.

“You do it.”

A man of little words but infinite power. You nod and slip your loose hair behind your ears. You crawl to the edge of the bed and slip your finger into one of his belt loops, tugging him forward. You lick your lips and decide to make a bold move. He watches you with curious eyes and a heated gaze as you tug him even closer. With one hand you swiftly unbutton his pants but lean forward and bite onto his zipper.

You glance upwards through your eyelashes as you slowly move downwards. The sound of the zipper feels impossibly loud in the silent room, Lovecraft feels impossibly still beneath you. With his black pants moved to the side you flatten your tongue against his clothed cock. Lovecraft moans in surprise and slips his fingers into your hair. He doesn’t tug, simply hovers and suddenly it occurs to you that perhaps this is new territory for him.

You slip his half hard cock out of his underwear and run your tongue over the shaft but he quickly pulls you away by your hair.

“You don’t have to do that.”

You lick your lips and send him a wink, before leaning forward again and slipping the head into your mouth and sucking.Your tongue swirls around his cockhead. He groans.

He twitches in your mouth but once again he pulls you back by your hair, leans down and kisses you roughly. His movements feel desperate as he devours you. He pushes you back onto the bed and begins to strip off your clothes.

His long fingers slide everything off and even snaps a few threads in your shirt. You're left in nothing but your underwear.

One hand traces from your jawline, through the valley of your breasts and slips even lower to hook into your underwear before tearing it off with one swift tug.

“You are looking very pretty for me.”

“Who says it’s for you”, you shoot back.

He smirks. His deep purple eyes penetrate you and he pushes you onto your back. His arms cage you in as he hovers over you. You shrink back into the bed.

“Oh”, he says, his hair falling over his shoulder and brushing against your naked skin. You shiver at the touch but he dips his head down and grazes his teeth against your earlobe before whispering, “you don’t want to look pretty for me?”

“Perhaps I’m looking pretty for men.”

His eyes flash dangerously. “Oh, my sweet, let me show you why other boys cannot compare.”

Fuck, for someone whos diving into new territory, he certainly knows how to set you on fire.

He dives for your neck and licks a line from your collarbone to your jawline.

“Sweet.”

He nips at the skin of your neck before finally moving down to your breasts where he suckles each one into his mouth. His other hand slips between your thighs and he begins to rub your clit. He reaches further down and coats his hand in your slick. He chuckles before breathing against your ear, “You’re so wet.”

You gasp out as his finger slips into you, it’s so long and so cold that the sudden intrusion has you jerk your hips away. But he grabs your hips roughly with his other hand and pins you down onto the bed.

“Don’t tease me”, you whine.

He smiles, “I’m preparing you.”

He stretches you out nicely. All the while he alternates between giving you soft pecks and kisses and devouring your breasts. You keen and whine beneath him as he touches every part of you in the most exciting ways.

Suddenly he grasps his cock, dripping with precum, and gives it a few pumps while reaching into his back pocket for a condom packet. He brings it to his lips and rips open the packet with his teeth. His eyes do not leave yours as he slips the condom on. He lines himself up with your sloppy entrance. He doesn’t move further but instead leans over you more to cradle you into his arms. With a soft peck to your forehead he asks, “Are you ready?”

You kiss him flush on the lips in silent consent. He still doesn’t move so you pull away and whisper into his ear, “Fuck Me”

He chuckles before pushing his cock to your entrance. It’s big. It’s very big and you whine a little as the head pops in. He thrusts back and forth, rubbing you raw while he places little kisses on your collarbone. You mewl on the bed as your nails begin to dig into his back. It feels so good but he’s so big. You are so full.

Finally he bottoms out and groans. “Forgive me.”

He pushes back before slamming back into you. You cry out as he begins his brutal pace. Harsh slapping sounds fill the room as he groans into your ear over and over again. He bites down onto your shoulder as you both finish. He pulls out and throws the condom away. He’s barely drenched in sweat but his hair is plastered to his face. He brushes it away.

“Still thinking of other boys?” he muses with his deep husky voice.

“Like anyone can compare”, you say.

He hums in approval as he flips you on your stomach. You shoot him a confused look as he reaches for a pillow and slides it beneath your hips. Once again, his large build appears above you, another condom packet at his teeth.

“Lovecraft?”

“Spread”

____________________________________

Image: https://www.zerochan.net/2616047

Tag: @ravenina14

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