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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [15K] PART TWO OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

tw: mentions of pregnancy, slight steddie.

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

Five weeks.

You didn’t see Steve for five weeks. Not for lack of looking. The Lake House was astoundingly quieter with the loss of the youngest Harrington and his friends, the bar empty, the Macallan well stocked and poker nights were taken over by the older generation. You didn’t see him on the golf course, nor in the spa. He didn’t frequent the smoking lounge and you didn’t see him at the bar. Gone was his maroon BMW from the parking lot and on the one, stupid occasion where you’d swallowed all your shame, you drove past his townhouse after a late night shift and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or relieved to see it sitting in the dark, empty.

You hadn’t exchanged numbers that night, still, the radio silence was infuriating. But hey, at least he wasn’t just plain avoiding you.

Which you realised when he waltzed in one Tuesday before lunch service, more tanned than ever, white shirt sleeves rolled up, tan trousers perfectly tailored. His eyes were on you immediately, his hair longer than you’d last seen him, like he’d been so busy he hadn’t had time to get it cut. Strands of it fell into his eyes and he swept them out of the way with a grin as he approached the bar. More so a smirk, really. And it irked you, his smirk, his pretty brown eyes, his perfectly messy hair, his sunkissed skin and don’t give a fuck attitude.

He leant on the bar like he owned it, elbows pressed to the wood, hands clasped in front of him so the gold ring glinted in the afternoon sun. He didn’t say anything, he just waited, watching as you finished polishing a wine glass and put it back on the glass shelf.

You cleared your throat and didn’t bother to smile, but the voice you spoke in was very much reserved for customer service. “Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you?”

You watched as Steve’s eyes flashed a little darker, amused and something else. He let out a soft laugh, like he thought you were funny. Like he thought your cold indifference was hilarious. So he played along, sliding onto one of the suede stools. The bar room was somewhat empty, most of the members either gathering for lunch in the sun room or soaking up the last of the warm weather on the golf course. It was quiet, and the tension between the two of you could fill the entire manor.

“A Macallan, please,” Steve answered, just as politely.

He was still watching every move you made, eyes raking over your legs, the fit of your dress over your hips, the swell of your ass when you turned and reached up for the bottle of scotch. You smiled, a sardonic press of your lips that didn’t meet your eyes when you asked him, “would you like ice with that?”

Steve really laughed then, but there was an edge to it that told you were getting under his skin. If he wanted to leave the country for over a month after blowing your mind in his fancy living room like it was no big deal, well— you could pretend you don’t care. Or better yet, didn’t even remember him.

“No ice,” he said and before you could pour, he waved his hand for you to stop. “Actually, you know what? I’d prefer the forty year. You have that right, honey?”

You did. But it was in the back, behind a heavy, locked door. The forty year old scotch could go for thirty thousand dollars a bottle. You tried not to look surprised, or worse, impressed. So you nodded instead and told him, “of course, sir. Please bear with me.”

But when you left the bar to walk towards the door that was marked ‘employees only,’ Steve was behind you. You watched him lean against the wall as you fumbled with your key card, pressing it once, twice - fuck - three times against the pad before it buzzed. And when you pushed the door open and Steve caught it, slipping in behind you, your cold indifference turned to anger.

Who did he think he was? Did he think he was that untouchable?

“This is employees only,” you hissed at him, panicking at the thought of someone else - god forbid, your boss - catching you in the hallway with him.

Like they’d be able to tell you’d gone to his late one night, that you’d stood and stripped for him in front of his big fireplace and bigger TV, like they’d find out he’d put his mouth on you and made to you come harder than anyone else ever ha—

But Steve just sighed, a long suffering thing that made your hackles rise up that little bit higher. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Honey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He brushed past you, hands in his pockets, walking down the corridor towards the locked room where the high value liquor was kept. “No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Now, come on.”

You didn’t want to obey, you didn’t want to do as he said. But you were at a loss. He looked so good and smelled so nice, clean and like the ocean, like sunscreen, like he’d just stepped off the plane from whatever Italian city he’d been hiding in and came straight to you. So you didn’t say anything, you just straightened up and let the clickclickclick of your heels fill the silence as you edged past him again and walked towards the door.

He didn’t let you reach it before he started talking again, a lazy drawl that matched his slow walk, an effortless thing that suited his linen trousers and effortlessly rumpled shirt. Even the lock of hair that fell across his forehead looked artfully placed.

“Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?”

You clenched your jaw. “No.”

You heard him laugh and the sound made your hand slip from where it tried to remember the combination for the door. He was so sure of himself, so sure and so confident that you’d spent the last five weeks thinking of him and where he was and what he was doing and who he was with—

“So rude today, honey. You don’t want to hear about the business deals I secured? The money I made?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. You kept your back to him, body stiff, mind positivity empty as you tried to recall the fucking code. You could sense him getting closer, body heat crowding yours, his cologne, his scent, like he’d bottled an Italian summer and sprayed it all over himself.

“No,” you repeated. Blunt, short, cold.

“What if I brought you back a present, wouldn’t you want to know then?”

He was behind you now, a towering presence, intimidating even when you weren’t looking at him. His chest brushed your back, a solid, warm thing that you wanted to melt against. But you kept yourself strong, hoping he couldn’t see your shaking hands as you tried another series of numbers. Steve’s hand came up to your neck, sweeping away the hair there, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin.

The keypad beeped at you in protest, another denied entry.

“You’re not like the other girls, are you, honey?”

You braced yourself, waiting for the speech about how you were different from the others, better in whatever way Steve deemed appropriate. Prettier, maybe. Smarter, quirkier, some kind of compliment that was supposed to make you preen for him.

Steve tsked and moved closer, his nose brushing the nape of your neck. “No, you don’t want my money. You’re not interested, huh? You don’t want the cash, the presents, no diamonds, no five thousand dollar shoes. You don’t want the cars or the houses or the yachts or the ring on your finger, huh?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer. Steve’s little speech didn’t go the way you assumed. The boy spun you suddenly, backing you into the wall as he took your chin in his hold, heated skin between a finger and his thumb, his nose and lips trailing over your cheek, your temple. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. You waited.

“No, honey, you just want fucked, don’t you?”

His lips were at your ear, trailing over the shell of it and you couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered, heading lolling back until it thudded against the wall. You were breathing funny, your body boneless. How did you fucking get here?

Steve grinned even though you couldn’t see, teeth on your jaw instead. He took your hand from where it lay limp by your side and brought it to his crotch, cupping it between his own and his cock, the hard length of him pushing against his slacks and your small hand. “You just want this, right?” His teeth nipped at you and you scrunched your face in pleasure, lips parting. “Tell me.”

You folded, a new kind of girl from the one that stood at the bar, brushing him off and pretending you couldn’t recall the way you came on his tongue. You nodded, brows knitted together, like you were ready to beg. Maybe you were. “Yeah,” you answered breathily. “I want it.”

Steve kissed your cheek, a sweet thing, a sudden and shocking touch. “Want what? Wanna hear it, honey, c’mon.”

Heat rushed through you, clinging to your cheeks, your neck. You squirmed, embarrassed and turned on, even more embarrassed that you were throbbing at his words. You blinked at him. “Want your cock,” you whispered.

“Smart girl,” he cooed. “Clever girl. Such a good fucking girl.” Steve let go of your chin, used his fingertips to brush your hair back and draw a line down your jaw. He pressed another kiss, to your chin this time, a fleeting thing that you tried to chase. You wanted to taste him. “That’s better isn’t it? So much better when you play nice. Where do you want it? Hm? Wanna suck it for me, honey? Want to feel it down your throat?” Steve tsked, his voice low and controlled despite the filth he was muttering against your cheek. “No, no, you want it inside of you, right? My baby wants fucked, right?”

Baby. My baby. It didn’t feel like a pet name, not really. Not like the way he said ‘honey,’ like melted candy on his tongue. No. This felt like ownership.

You were throbbing from the inside out, your brain buzzing, a white noise kind of sound that tuned out everything bar Steve’s voice, his words, that awfully fucking pretty cadence that made you feel like you were one step away from getting in trouble. You don’t know why you loved it, why it made your toes curl, your lips part and a whine get stuck in your throat.

“Fuck, Steve,” you clawed at his shoulders, nails scraping over his shirt, creasing the expensive linen. You didn’t care. “Yeah, please, I want that.”

“Oh, it’s Steve, now, is it?” The boy laughed a little meanly, grabbing at your hips to turn you for him, your chest pressed to the wall as he made sure your ass stayed popped out for him. He traced the pretty arch of your back, rocked his dick against the curve of your ass cheek and squeezed. “I think I preferred ‘sir.’ Made you sound so much more agreeable.”

You just moaned. A sound you’d never heard yourself make, an animalistic thing, wrecked sounding and it made Steve beam. “Oh honey, you’re filthy, aren’t you? You’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn’t you?” His hands found the hem of your dress and cool air hit the tops of your thighs as he started lifting it up.

You didn’t care. You didn’t fucking care.

Your cheek was pressed to the wall, Lake House green paint under the press of your palms and you remained pliant for Steve, back arched and legs spreading a little, ready for him to pull your underwear to the side and slip his cock inside of you. You wanted it, you needed it—

“I’m not gonna fuck you here, pretty girl, not yet.” Steve was at your ear again, whispering against the shell of it, his fingers grabbing a handful of your ass under your dress as he squeezed and pulled at the dough of it. “Gonna take my time with you for that. Going to make sure I ruin you.”

Disappointment washed over you like a bucket of cold water. It was sobering and his words made you whine, a desperate noise that the staff corridor of The Lake House should never have heard. You turned on your own volition, gazing at Steve with heavy lidded eyes and you were pleased to see he looked the same. Cheeks pink, lips parted, his chest moving a little quicker than before. You remembered the way he’d taken charge that night, how he’d just assumed you’d come home with him after the poker game, how he’d sat in front of you, sprawled on his big sofa as he watched you take off your clothes for him.

How he’d told you to.

And then he’d made you come undone, unravelling against his mouth as he whispered dirty things to you, leaving you fuzzy and hazy as he dropped you home, seemingly unaffected. You wanted that power back, you wanted to see him too far gone to remember how much money he had in the bank.

So you pressed your palms to his chest and smoothed down his shirt collar before you dropped to your knees in front of him. It should’ve been a submissive thing, most people would assume it was. You, kneeling below the rich man, the man who had wealth and connections and an entire legacy built on just his name. You, the girl who was paid to serve him from behind a bar, pouring drinks that you’d ever be able to afford, on the floor in front of him.

But when you looked back up at Steve, his cocky expression had changed to one of awe. Genuine surprise showed in his eyes, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he blinked at you, dreamlike, hazy, fuzzy. Just like he’d made you feel. You brought your hands to the front of his trousers, finger teasing the button there before he slumped forward a little and braced his hands on the very wall he’d pushed you up against. He nodded, mumbled something that sounded like ‘please.’

Victory.

You looked back at the door you’d come through, no windows in the wood, but still thin enough that could hear the grand piano playing in the dining room, the distant tinkling of china teapots against porcelain teacups. Anyone could walk in. You’d get fired. Or worse.

The button popped under your finger and thumb, and the zipper whispered in the quiet when you tugged it down. Steve groaned, a heavy, hot sound that made the slick between your thighs worsen. He was leaning over you, head bowed between the arms that held him up, his full lips pink and parted as he stared down at you. You waited for some sort of instruction, an order, some filthy kind of praise but instead, he just watched.

Powerless.

You flattened a palm against his cock, hard and warm under the cotton of his black Calvin Kleins, your other hand braced on his thigh. You looked up, one brow raised, a silent question even as the solid length of him kicked up against your touch.

“Yes,” he rasped, nodding. “Yeah, honey, go ‘head.”

You worked fast, the rest of the club a far away murmur behind the locked door as Steve’s heavy breaths took over your senses instead. You dragged the band of his underwear down, his cock slapping up against his stomach. He was huge, thick and long and hard to wrap your fingers around and you hated that he had another reason to walk around acting like he fucking owned the world.

But you wanted the power back and you grasped him in your fist, pumping him against your palm as he tried to stop his hips from bucking forward. You wanted Steve like putty, yours to play with, you wanted him to fall apart as fast and as hard as he made you.

So you skipped the teasing, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe across the head of his cock, salt on your tongue and he swore, hips jerking when you opened your mouth and let him slide past your lips. You worked quick, heart racing from the adrenline of sucking someone off during working hours, hidden in a place you weren’t supposed to be. This was stupid, it was so fucking stupid but the stretch of your jaw around Steve’s cock was delicious, the sounds he was making even better. He was gasping your name, his voice hoarse, his eyes barely able to stay open but his lashes fluttered and he made sure he watched the way his cock disappeared in and out your mouth, over and over again.

Your nails scratched at his thighs, making him hiss, your free hand pumping the length of him that you couldn’t nudge into your throat. It was wet and messy, a filthy thing that made his brain malfunction ‘cause you were looking up at him the whole time with big, doe eyes and your pretty, little dress was splayed over your thighs. You looked like sin, you looked like his own personal wet dream and you were tracing your tongue along the underside of his cock as the head of it hit the back of your throat and—

“Oh my god,” Steve growled. One hand fell from the wall to grasp your head, not pushing, not guiding. Just twisting into your hair and holding on for dear fucking life. “Oh, fuck, m’gonnacome.”

It had barely been five minutes and a new sort of determination flushed through you. You were soaked, inner thighs wet from the heat of Steve’s stare, from the weight of his cock on your tongue and god, he was tipping his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair as he realised you were doubling down on your efforts and not pulling off.

“In your mouth, honey, yeah?” His voice was a little higher, breathier, so much less than controlled that it ever had been. “Gonna come in that pretty mouth, that smart, little mouth, hm? Please? Gonna swallow it all for me?”

You hummed in agreement, refusing to take you lips away from him, bringing a hand to cup his balls as you worked your mouth around him, rolling them in your palm. Steve twitched against your tongue, hips jerking forward as he gasped out everything from a prayer, to your name, to a curse. He came hard and sudden, his jaw hanging slack as he stared down at you, watching with a greedy sort of awe as he spilled over your tongue. You made a show of it for him, lips parting and mouth open as you pumped what you could out of him, letting him see it cover your tongue before you swallowed.

And as he stood, barely keeping himself up, breathless and speechless, you tucked him back into his trouser, soft and spent. You stood primly, caged between his arms as you smoothed down your skirt and met his gaze. He looked a little wild, a little wrecked and he swore under his breath when you licked your lips, using your thumb to politely swipe at the corner of your mouth, like a lady at high tea, not a girl who’d just sucked the fucking life from him.

Neither of you spoke. You weren’t sure Steve could. So you ducked under his arm and walked away, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you tried to make sure he couldn’t seen the way your legs shook. Chin high, smile victorious, you didn’t look back before you slipped out of the door and out to the bar. It took a while for Steve to appear, face still a little flushed, but he’d brushed back his hair and smoothed out any wrinkles in his shirt, his trouser buttoned back up but his eyes gave him away.

They were glittering, trained on you as he came through the employees only door like he owned the entire building.

He didn’t care that you were serving Mr and Mrs St. Clair there afternoon martinis. No, he walked right up to the bar and tapped his fingers on the wood, vying for your attention. You gave it easily, gaze on Steve instead of the cocktail shaker you were filling with ice.

“What time do you finish?” He asked, voice still rough.

You swallowed tightly, eyes flitting to the older couple who weren’t paying you much mind. Not when their drinks weren’t ready yet. “Seven,” you told him.

Steve nodded. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

—————

That’s how it went.

No labels, not much talking - not about anything too serious anyway, like the future. Just a whirlwind you couldn’t really call a romance because Steve Harrington had fucked you in every room of his house, every car he parked in his too big garage, but he’d never kissed your lips. You’d found that Steve didn’t really do sweet unless it came with some kind of condescending tone that made your toes curl, surprising you on the odd occasion with a sudden fondness that even shocked him. But still, no kisses. He’d kiss you everywhere else, forehead often resting against yours as you both caught your breaths, his cock still inside you. You’d feel his nose bump your own, a soft touch, an intimate thing. But he’d pull back when you’d lift your chin a little, mouth searching for his like he hadn’t just been gasping into it.

He didn’t really hold your hand or call you his girlfriend but he knew your favourite wine, an expensive Chardonnay he liked to buy you by the crate, along with flowers you hadn’t even seen before, colourful blooms that looked like they belonged in a magazine. He’d place his hand on the small of your back when he took you out to restaurants, cocktail bars full of business men that only he knew. Away from Hawkins, always in the front of one of his cars, each one faster and shinier than the last. Dining rooms with chandeliers and low lights, pillar candles on white table cloths and five forks each.

He showed you off, surprising you with silk dresses and red bottomed heels that you told him off for, but Steve would kiss your neck, your bare shoulder and whisper how he wanted to take the pretty dress off of you later, how he wanted you in nothing but Louboutin’s. His touch was possessive, dirty, sometimes surprisingly caring, a gentleman that opened your car doors for you, who pulled out your chair for you to sit.

But no, he never kissed your lips.

And when he was spending days and weeks in Rome, Milan, Cannes, New York, Los Angeles, Singapore, St. Martin, well. When was there time to talk about relationships?

Steve Harrington was private jets and brand new Bentley’s. He was a special edition Rolex and had his family's name outside Hawkin’s city hall on a gold plaque. He was silk, leather, polished shoes and freshly ironed shirts. Gold, suede, expensive cologne, yachts in Monaco, a villa in the hills of the French Riviera. But he wasn’t your boyfriend.

No. He was thousand dollar bottles of whisky, business deals in San Tropez, a private beach club in Marbella. He was parties. He was the party. Cocktail nights with the elite, a grown up rager in someone's mansion, where chandeliers swung from ornate ceilings and the stairs were painted in gold leaf, littered with coked up rich kids who were using daddie’s hundred dollar bills to fill their noses.

Like the one you were at now, the thumpthumpthump of far away music still managing to reach you three floors up. The entire house was filled with art, a gallery more than a home and twenty something year olds made the place look too messy, black ties loose around men’s necks as girls walked around the marble floors barefoot, bottles of Moët clutched in their hands, each one looking for someone else to fuck. Grecian statues were thrown like footballs, busts of women from too long ago used as something to take a line off of and there were five people in the pool outside, naked, drunk, all taking turns touching each other.

It was debauchery at its finest. At its richest.

It was Eddie’s idea.

He’d invited Steve who’d then picked you up in a car you hadn’t seen before, a deep green Camaro with tan leather seats. It was already late, later than you’d like to have left for the beginning of a night out but Eddie promised a good time and the possibility of a new business venture for Steve.

The house had been an hour out of town, nestled off into the countryside between a forest and a lake, the long driveway spot lit as it led to the huge brick manor. You’d walked through the door behind Eddie, Steve’s hand on your back as he coaxed you inside and into the chaos. Music, bodies, champagne flutes overflowing on a round table in the foyer, marble flooring, tapestries on the walls, spilled glitter on the stairway and money littering a desk, poker chips on the floor.

No one greeted you, no one looked at you. But someone slapped Steve on the shoulder and Eddie shook a guy's hand, a bag of white powder exchanged for a rolled up wad of cash. No words were said. So Steve grabbed a mottle of Moët from a tabletop and took your hand, only to lead you up the stairs and Eddie followed, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he winked at the girl on the landing that you all had to step over.

An empty room, champagne bubbles, two men.

The bed was huge, a canopy style thing with too many pillows and with gold stitched quilts. Red drapes and low lights, a thick carpet that you dug your toes into when you slipped off your heels and then fell onto the mattress. Eddie followed, tipsy, boisterous, laughing as he did. Steve lazed in an armchair in the corner, long legs splayed out in front of him as he sipped from the bottle, his eyes on the way the hem of your dress slipped up your thighs.

“How does Steve’s little friend like the lifestyle?” Eddie asked you, grinning. “Is the Moët to your taste, sweetheart?” He was teasing and you knew that, teasing in a lighter way than Steve would because he was smiling and his eyes were kind, his cheek pushed to the bedding as he waited for your answer.

You took the bottle from Steve and let the bubbles slide down your throat, the fizziness tickling the roof of your mouth and it wasn’t sweet enough. Still, you took it greedily, wetting your lips before you dropped the empty bottle onto the floor with a thud. “I prefer Chardonnay, but it’ll do,” you joked back.

Eddie laughed and then hummed. He appraised you thoughtfully before his eyes flickered to Steve, dark in the dim light. “Oh yeah, Mr Harrington was kind enough to buy you a whole case of it, huh? I saw the order, sweetheart don’t get flustered.” Eddie reached out to brush a stand of your hair away from your face and from the corner of your eye, you saw Steve sit up a little straighter. “He’s real nice, isn’t he? Likes to spoil a pretty girl like you.”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice was a warning.

“Right?” he continued, nodding at you like you’d agreed. You simply watched him from the bed, breath hitching a little when he propped himself onto one elbow so he could look down at you, one finger tracing up and down your forearm. “Jewellery, flowers, nice dinners, nicer dresses,” he trailed off, plucking at the strap of your black dress. “Pretty things for pretty girls. He doesn’t kiss you though, does he?”

The air was sucked out of the room and Steve bristled. “Eddie.”

Eddie ignored him. He tutted sympathetically, pouting at you. “He hasn’t, has he? He never does, some weird rule he has.” You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. But you gasped quietly when Eddie traced a finger over your bottom lip, tugging at it gently until he let it go and it fell back into place with a soft ‘pop’. “Such a shame.”

He pulled away slightly to look back at Steve, who was sitting forward in the chair now, his elbows braved on his knees as he stared at Eddie with a dark expression. Like he was waiting. Warning him. But he didn’t say anything, so Eddie turned back to you.

“D’you know that Steve and I share things?”

You shook your head, wishing you had the sense to sit up, to collect yourself, to pull the hem of your damn dress down because the warm air that was trapped inside the room - between these two men - was heating up the skin on your thighs.

“Yeah,” Eddie explained. “Shares, stocks, cars… girls.” He leaned down again, nose bumping against your temple as he whispered theatrically into your, loud enough for Steve to hear. “He likes me more than Hargrove, you see.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“Do you think he’d let me kiss you, sweetheart? I bet he would.” Eddie was on his hands and knees now, crawling over you, hovering just above, hands braced on either side of your head and he grinned at the way your pupils grew a little bigger, a little darker. Both of you turned your heads to the side, your cheeks pressed to the expensive Egyptian cotton and you both looked at Steve. You weren’t sure what for. For a scolding, for a fight, for approval.

“C’mon, Harrington,” Eddie broke the silence. “She’s not your girl, is she? You gonna let me taste her? Seeing as you don’t? Bet she’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

Steve let out a huff of breath, his eyes flashing as he gripped the arm of the chair too tight. He sat back into the leather, shoulders stiff and lips in a straight line. “I know how she tastes, Munson, trust me.”

The way they spoke about you like you weren’t there made your skin tingle, an electric current that ran through your bones and you were buzzing, fizzing - but that might’ve been the champagne. But still, Eddie continued, playing Steve until he was flushed in the face with an emotion you couldn’t place.

“Yeah but those lips look pretty fucking biteable,” Eddie whispered and he ducked his head down, nose brushing yours, lips parting when yours did on instinct. “Could eat her up. Like a little peach, huh?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t stop it. He just sat and stared, cock stirring in his trousers because this is how these parties went and this wasn’t the first time he’d watched his friend take the girl he’d brought on a bed. In fact, this was tame compared to the other nights, lines of coke and whisky on a bedside table, his cock buried in some strange girl's mouth as Eddie took her from behind, shirt buttons ripped open and matching red lipstick on both their chests.

This was different. It felt different.

But still, he stayed quiet.

“You just want a kiss, don’t you?” Eddie cooed as he kept close, nuzzling his nose to your cheek, making sure his lips brushed across your when he moved to the other side. Your hands curled around the outside of his thighs where he kneeled over you, keeping him there, holding tight. You could see Steve out of your peripheral. “Pretty thing like you just wants some lovin’, I know it.”

Then slowly, as if allowing you - or Steve - to stop him, Eddie moved in, kissing your top lip before moving to your bottom, a barely there thing before he was kissing you properly, mouth pushing against yours. He angled his face so Steve could see, so the other boy on the armchair could watch the way he parted his lips and opened your own with his tongue, licking into you in a way that made your back arch. Steve watched the black silk of your dress - the one he bought you - meet Eddie’s shirt, matching colours, black as midnight. Ink on skin, moving against a stranger's sheets. Nipples pebbling against the material as Eddie dragged one of his hands down your sides, lifting your arm up and keeping it above your head so he could drag his fingers down the side of your breast, the material pulling tight over your skin.

He followed the curve of it, made you gasp into his mouth and then he was groaning, whispering something about how sweet you were, his tongue sweeping over your own before he was ripped away from you.

Steve had Eddie by the scruff of his shirt, hauling him off of the bed and you until he staggered into the other boy, grinning like this was all the funniest game in the world. You were panting, lips still glossy from Eddie’s kiss, eyes wide with shock because Steve was pulling himself up to his full height, shoulder squared, chin tilted up.

His nose almost touched Eddie’s.

“S’wrong, Harrington?” Eddie whispered. He was goading, excited, too amused. “She’s not your girl, right?” Their chests touched but Eddie didn’t back down, still grinning, curls mussed from where he’d lay on the bed with you, your gloss smeared across his own lips, a pretty pink that matched the flush across his cheeks. “You normally don’t mind sharing, dude, what’s the problem?”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he was breathing a little heavier, gaze flickering to you as you sat up and smoothed down your dress, your hair. Part of you wanted to get between the boys, soothe whatever was about to start, but something inside of you wanted to hear what Steve had to say. You stared back at him, feeling too hot, too exposed but you waited, gaze hard on him.

“Quit playin’, Eddie,” Steve warned and he took one step back, standing in the middle of you and the other boy. He looked flustered, a little put together than he normally did, his eyes dark and his cheeks heated, his back too stiff and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the way they were balled into fists. “I’m not in the mood.”

But Eddie kept smiling, hands held out in front of him as if he were surrendering but he continued to smile, eyes shining as kept talking, voice lilting. “Poor thing just wanted a kiss, man, only giving her what you don’t. Sorta mean, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t say anything, you just watched as Steve glared and Eddie grinned, the room filled with something more than faded music, empty champagne bottles and all the leftover bubbles. Tension fizzed in the corners, it made the walls crack and split, it made your chest turn a little too tight.

“Like I said,” Eddie gestured to you, eyes flirting up and down your frame appreciatively before turning back to Steve, “s’not like she’s your girl, is she?”

The thump of a bassline from two floors down, faint splashes from a pool outside the open window, the smash of a glass. But silence from Steve.

“Am I?”

Your voice sounded so much smaller than you wanted it to but you stared at Steve as you watched his jaw tense and flex. He closed his eyes and said something under his breath, something you couldn’t hear, pressing his thumb to the corner of his eye before he faced you.

“We’ve, uh,” he swallowed and reached for another cigarette. “We’ve spoken about this, honey.” He said it calmly, casually, like you should’ve known better.

But you had spoken about it at all. Not really. Steve’s silence said more than words and when he only pressed kisses to your cheek, to the insides of your thighs and side of your neck, you’d finally gotten the hint. Steve Harrington didn’t get attached. He didn’t do relationships. He was too busy, and spent too much time between too many cities, too many countries. Steve Harrington had yachts and cars and penthouses and villas. But he didn’t have girlfriends. Not just one, anyway.

You should’ve known. You had known. But hearing it aloud made it hurt that little bit more. So you nodded as if you agreed and when Steve lit the cigarette and let it hang between his lips, you stared at the floor as he stared at you. Then he was nodding towards the door and expecting you to follow him.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You didn’t move. Eddie chuckled, a dark thing that made Steve glare at him but he looked over at you, cigarette between his fingers as it turned down quicker than he could smoke it. “Honey, let’s go.”

You still didn’t move.

So Steve looked at you and then he looked at Eddie and scoffed, waving a dismissive hand before he left the room and left the house.

Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

You didn’t hear from Steve for the first few days after the party.

Four days went by without seeing him and honestly, that was okay with you. He stayed away from the clubhouse, even when you saw Billy and Eddie in the lounge, Jonathan at poker nights, Steve wasn’t with them. You saw his car around town now and then, passing the maroon BMW as you drove home from work late at night, watching its tail lights speed away in your rear view mirror. You wondered if he had another girl in the front seat, someone else he called honey and fucked on the living room sofa.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You knew this would happen, you were just stupid enough to let it. You knew you’d get your heart broken, you knew you’d be the one left hurt. Because despite Steve’s proclivity for showering you in gifts and sex, you did have fun with him. He was sweet when he wanted to be, when he took off his suit and tie and shut off his pager. The business calls would stop and he’d forgo the expensive wine and designer shoes in favour of bringing a bag of your favourite chocolate, a dollar from the gas station and more appreciated than he realised.

There had been a night he’d taken you his kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before, his forehead pressed to yours, his soft murmurs falling into your open mouth.

“Eyes on me, honey, keep watchin.”

“You’re so pretty, y’know that? Could stay inside you all fuckin’ night, Jesus Christ.”

“There she is, there she is, look at you, huh? Fuckin’ perfect at takin’ me.”

It had made you feel giddy, fuzzy, coming on Steve’s cock harder than ever and after he slid out of you he ran you a bath instead of taking you home. He didn’t join you like you asked, scoffing at the idea of lavender bubbles and water hot enough to scald him but he did sit on the tiles, shirtless and with his hands in the tub, fingers trailing over your water slick legs. He told you about the places he’d been, beaches and cities, the towns he’d think you’d like. And in the candle light, at three in the morning, with no one else around, Steve told you that he’d have to take you one day.

You’d hummed, pleased, heart racing at the idea of something coming from all of this. Not a free holiday, but someone to be with. A boyfriend, maybe, a partner. Someone who loved you as good as they fucked you. You weren’t deluded, you knew this wasn’t love. Not yet. But this handsome man came to the bar one day and decided that you were going to be his in some way or another. He wined you, dined you, spoiled you. Fucked you the way you asked and looked at you with stars in his eyes every time you got on your knees for him. He didn’t want you kissing anyone else, even when he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you.

There were times you thought he would. Times he looked at you like he wanted to, needed to. Straying closer and closer to your lips every time he kissed you goodnight, a lingering thing on your cheek that you wished you could bottle up and keep. He’d let his lips graze over you when he fucked you, pressing you into the cushions of his couch because even taking you to his bed was too intimate, too much like a relationship. So he’d fuck you slow in his living room, in the glow of the fireplace with the red wine forgotten on the table as he lost himself in it all, mouth skimming over the planes of your cheeks, the slope of your jaw, the very fucking corner of your bottom lip, like that wasn’t as bad as letting him bend you over his mattress.

Steve Harrington told you that he didn’t get attached, but you weren’t able to promise him the same.

So your crush gave way to anger, a frustrated annoyance that made your blood simmer when you left work one Wednesday evening, autumn settling over the town as you wrapped your jacket around you a little tighter and headed to your car. Except Steve was leaning against the hood of it, a dozen red roses clutched in one hand. He didn’t look nearly as put together as he normally did, but you thought he was twice as pretty. Still tanned, forever sunkissed even as the leaves on the trees started to fall, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old Harvard sweater. He didn’t go to Harvard, didn’t need to, but he looked every part the preppy boy you would’ve fallen in love with if you’d made it to college.

He looked softer but still as confident as ever as he stayed lounging against your car, like he was waiting for you to come to him. Instead you rolled your eyes and headed to the driver's side of your old Volkswagen, ignoring him as you passed.

“Wow, you’re just going to pretend I’m not here?”

Annoyance flared inside of you at the sound of his voice, unapologetic with a touch of entitlement. You scoffed, turning to the boy only to glare and you opened the drivers door so you could throw in your purse. “Most people would start with an apology, Steve.”

He pushed off the front of your hood and came to you, flowers held out as if to say ‘this is the apology.’ You could smell the flowers in the air, fresh and a vibrant red, overflowing from his hand and you could only imagine the price he paid for something that would wilt and die in a few days.

“You actually have to say it, you know.” You challenged him, eyes meeting his, unblinking, unwavering. Time spent with the richest man in town had given you some confidence of your own, an unflinching boldness when faced with stares in restaurants, whispers in crowded bars. “I don’t want your gifts.”

“Honey,” Steve tried, reaching for your hand. You moved back, out of his reach. He tried another approach, softer, sweeter. “Baby, c’mon. I’m sorry, alright? I am. I shouldn’t have acted like that at the party.”

He was right, he shouldn’t have. So you nodded but kept away, standing stiff and tense as you decided whether you should ask what you wanted to. You crossed your arms, a protective stance, and tried to sound braver than you felt. “Why wasn’t Eddie allowed to kiss me?”

Steve stared at you before he scoffed, setting the roses on your car roof before he shoved his hands into his pockets. His face became passive, a mask, a shield, the one he used on business calls and during luncheons with shareholders in his fathers companies. “So that’s what we’re doing now, huh? Kissing other people in front of each other?”

You could feel your frustration rising to the surface, bubbling and simmering and ready to explode out of you. “Why shouldn’t we? You said it yourself, we’re not together. I’m not your girlfriend.”

Steve avoided the question, eyes flashing instead and he swiped a hand over his face, through his hair. “Honey, please, like you wouldn't throw a fit if I took someone out to dinner, hm? If you found out I’d been taking someone else to nice restaurants and—”

“How do I know that’s not happening already!” You shot back, almost too loud. Mr and Mrs Lewinsky were walking arm and arm to their Mercedes, glancing over to the corner you car was tucked into. Thank god it was dark. You turned back to Steve, face heated. “You leave, like all the time. You’re gone for days and weeks, all over the world with villas and hotel rooms and penthouse apartments. You expect me to believe you don’t have a girl in every city? There’s not another me waiting for you on your living room couch in New York? Monaco? Italy? France? Oh, I’m sorry, do you maybe let them into your bed?”

Steve swore, looking around the parking lot as more people started to flood out now that dinner was over. Valets were moving cars down to the door and you could hear the voice of Frederick bidding guests goodbye. He held his hand out, “give me your keys.”

You stared at him, face screwed up. “What?”

“I said,” Steve repeated calmly, “give me your keys and get in the car.”

You scoffed, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. And you’re not driving my fucking car.”

“I’m not having this conversation here,” Steve muttered and his voice was annoyed. “Either get in and let me drive or I’m marching you across the lot to my own car and you can wave to your boss at the same time.”

Annoyance pricked at your skin, a thousand needles of anger that made your back stiffen and your eyes narrow. “You drive like a fucking formula one wannabe,” you hissed, but still you threw your keys at his chest and marched round to the passenger seat, not caring to see if he caught them or not. “You fuck up my wheels, you’re buying me new alloys, Steve.”

Steve threw himself into the driver's seat and laughed meanly, lifting the bouquet of roses and throwing them into the backseat. Petals scattered everywhere. He slammed the door with the same amount of aggression as you did and once you were seated, he turned to you and smiled too sweetly. “Honey, I’ll buy you a new goddamn car, okay? Put your seatbelt on.”

You sat, stubborn, arms crossed and staring out the window. Your seatbelt remained unfastened. Steve revved the engine and despite the headlights stopping them from seeing who was behind the wheel of the beat up old Volkswagen, they were still staring.

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Just, get us out of here, god.”

“Seatbelt,” Steve repeated. You didn’t move and he tutted. “Where did my good girl go, huh?” He leaned over you and you remained passive, even when his breath was on your jaw and his hand slid around your hip as he did the belt for you. “You used to be so good at doing what you were told.”

“I’m not your girl,” you reminded him, smiling in a way that was anything but friendly. You felt dead behind the eyes, nothing but annoyance when you looked at Steve right then. “Remember?”

Steve grunted, swearing under his breath as he pulled away too fast and the wheels screeched as he sped out of the clubhouse parking lot. He hit sixty on the country roads at the back of Hawkins, screaming past the lake before he pulled off the road, just as you were ready to tell him off. He parked up in an empty lot, nothing but dirt and trees and a view of the water tower in the distance.

“There’s no other girls,” he said, breaking the silence. It was easier not to yell in the dark, in the closeness of the front of the car, where everything felt intimately softer than before.

“What?” You scrunched your face, mostly in disbelief as you tried to recall what you had yelled at him before he drove your car away from the scene.

“There aren’t any girls in other cities. There’s no one fucking waiting for me in Monaco, or, or Cannes, or L.A, no one, okay?”

You scoffed, disbelieving and you unclipped your seatbelt so you could lean against the door, facing him. Steve was still gripping the wheel with one hand, another swiping tiredly over his face, but for what it was worth, he looked sincere. But still, annoyance and the lingering feeling of rejection clawed in your stomach, an awful, ugly thing that made you sneer.

“Whatever, you really expect me to believe that? The front page of the Hawkins Post ran a damn article about how your new yacht had a mirrored ceiling in one of the bedrooms.” You laughed meanly, sadly, hoping your voice didn’t crack. “Okay, Hugh Hefner, excuse me if I don’t buy your bullshit.”

Steve groaned again, a long suffering thing and he pulled at his sweater sleeves, rolling them up his forearms until his watch face glinted in the light of the moon. “Fine, okay, yeah, I used to! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

No, it wasn’t.

“Had a girl for each damn arm, alright? But I haven’t— I haven’t—” Steve swallowed and you watched the harsh way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the furrow in his brow deepen. He didn’t look at you when he said, “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

It was a surprise, that was for sure. And what was even more startling, was the fact that you believed him, you truly did. Gone was the businessman facade, the smooth tone of voice that made you call him Mr Harrington. Instead there was a young man in front of you who was doing his best to make you understand.

“I don’t do relationships, honey, you knew that,” Steve said and he sounded almost sad. “I don’t kiss girls and hope they fall in love with me, I don’t bring them home and take to my bed and let them believe we’ll wake up together in the morning and fuckin’ cuddle.”

You blinked away tears, angry, upset, frustrated tears that burned the corners of your eyes. You sniffed, annoyed, venomous. “Fine. I’m far from declaring my undying adoration for you Steve, don’t worry. But you don’t then get to decide who I get to kiss if you don’t wanna do it yourself.”

Steve stiffened then, turning to you with an angry flash in his eyes and hard set to his jaw. He narrowed his gaze at you and shook his head. “Don’t test me, honey.”

You scoffed, defiant. “Whatever. Take me home, you can walk back to your car.”

“I’m not done talking,” Steve frowned and he couldn’t believe it when you simply laughed and got out of the car. He jumped out after you, bewildered at the sight of you walking through mud and the littering of fallen leaves in your clubhouse uniform, heels and all. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Walking,” you shot back, “what does it look like!”

“Get in the damn car,” Steve said your name and it sounded like a warning, “it’s pitch fuckin’ black out here.”

You didn’t turn around though, arms crossed right across your chest because you’d left your coat in your locker like an idiot. “Then I’ll find a pay phone, call for a ride. Maybe Eddie will come get me.” It was a cheap blow, but it did exactly what it was supposed to.

The sound of heavy feet marching up behind you, a hand on your arm to stop you from moving and then Steve was in front of you, face scrunched in anger, in frustration. He held your shoulders, slipped his wide hands down the length of your arms until he eased them from your chest and held your fingers between his.

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Steve asked, his voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He seemed to unravel slightly, a panic in his tone that you’d never heard before. “I— I take you out, I treat you good, right? But you presents ‘n’ pretty things, fuckin’ flowers and shoes and dresses and take you to restaurant openings, parties and, and—”

“I don’t want any of that, Steve!” You yelled, eyes wide. You felt too hot despite the cold night. “I never wanted any of that! I didn’t ask for it.” You blew out a breath but you didn’t drop his hands. “I appreciated it, all of it, I did. I do. But I didn’t need any of that! I enjoyed being with you.”

Steve shook his head at you, lips parted and a look of confusion on his face. Like he’d never been told such a thing before. “So, so what? You want Eddie? None of that, but you want Eddie, is that it?”

You huffed, head thrown back in exasperation and you counted to three, staring at the stars blinking back at you in the night sky and you wondered what you were doing here, you wondered what cruel twist of fate led you to sit down with Steve Harrington that night in the lounge.

“No,” you eventually said, calmer than you’d sounded before. “No, I don’t want Eddie. God, Steve, I wanted you, alright? This whole time, just you. Not your money, or your cars or your houses or anything else. Just you. I wanted to hold your hand and go on dates. Somewhere stupid and lame like the movies, or, or a drive through for a cheap burger and shake. I wanted you to kiss me goodnight and kiss me good morning and maybe, I don’t know, have sex with me on a mattress like a normal couple.”

You sniffed, willing away the tears that came with your speech. You weren’t prepared to cry over a man who didn’t want you the way you wanted him. But you watched Steve’s expression fall, a crumpled thing that made him look young and boyish. He dropped your hands only to move closer and cup your face instead, his thumb soothing over your bottom lip like he could will your upset away. You watched his gaze fall to your mouth, following the movements his thumb made across the seam of your lips like he wanted to put his against yours. His lips parted and he looked pained.

“I’m not asking you to fucking marry me, Steve, but god, why won’t you at least kiss me? Am I that much of a throw away toy for you that you won’t even—”

“Because if I kiss you, I’ll fucking fall in love with you, okay!” Steve barked out, sudden and rushed and panicked sounding. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath, letting his hands fall to your neck, his head falling forward. “God.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

“You don’t think I know I can get any girl I want?” Steve laughed and it sounded powerful, it sounded like money. “Honey, I walked into the club that day and saw your pretty face and knew I was fucked.” Steve lifted his head so you could see him again, lips parted in surprise at his admission but he just smiled. He brought a hand back to your cheek, smoothed a thumb over the apple of it, down the line of your jaw. “So I told myself I could just have some with you, see how good you looked without that uniform on, maybe spoil you a little and whatnot.”

“You’re a pig,” you told him but you didn’t move away.

“I know,” Steve shrugged. “Wasn’t looking for a wife honey, I just loved the way you got all huffy with me, how sweet you’d get when I got my hands on you.” Steve dragged his thumb down your neck, pressed lightly and watched the way you tilted your chin up for him. “You’re just so fucking pretty.”

“But then you had to get under my skin didn’t you? Thought about you all the goddamn time and couldn’t look at any other girl without seeing your face instead.” Steve tsked, walked you backwards until you were against the side of your car and pressed against him. “Hated it at first, you know. Tried to stay away for longer than I needed to, but shit, got back into town and went straight to the club to see you. There you were, pretty as ever and chewing me out for being gone too long, callin’ me Mr Harrington like you knew it would get me so fuckin’ hot for you.”

Steve grinned when you whined, a knee jerk response to the way he was sliding a hand around your upper thigh, up under the hem of your dress and your head hit the door of your car with a dull thud. “Ate at Michelin star restaurants all ‘round the world, honey, but I’ve never tasted anything as good as you, you know that?” He was on your throat now, mouthing up it, licking a line along your neck until he could nip at your jaw. “Want you, all the time. Just you. It drives me fucking insane and I dunno what to do.”

You felt the fight leave you and you hated yourself for it, feeling weaker every time Steve put his mouth on your skin and his nose was pressed to your cheek now, one hand in your hair and the other squeezing at the dough do your ass under your dress, pulling up the hem of it to expose you to the cool air and it was all filthy. It was all exactly why you entered into this whole situation in the first place. Steve Harrington - money and family name or not - made you feel like you were on fucking fire.

So you grabbed at him, tried to fight back in other ways, with fingers in his hair so you could tug him down and let him latch his mouth to your neck. He scraped his teeth along the column of it, groaning when you pulled meanly. Steve swore, licking over the bruise he’d marked you with, a pink-red bloom on your skin that would remind you of him even days later. His nose bumped yours as he leaned down to you, crowding you against the car and up against his chest and you were panting, waiting for it, feeling the way he let his nose graze yours, a teasing back and forth that left his mouth hovering over yours.

“Get in the back,” Steve whispered and it was a quiet order, a soft demand, one that you knew you’d bend to because you were soaked, clit pulsing against the lace of your underwear, and shit, Steve knew that too.

But it didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him work for it.

“No,” you argued back. You didn’t mean it, this was foreplay. This was everything that got Steve a little hot under the collar, the way you played pretend and tried to get your own way. “You can fuck me here, ‘gainst the door.”

Steve laughed and he pressed the sound into your cheek, teeth against your skin and he pushed a kiss there, a smattering of them as his hands went back under your dress and he pulled down your underwear with the tips of his fingers. He let them fall to the ground, not bothering to pick them up.

“Get in the car, honey. Front or back, you decide, but either way you’re gonna ride me, okay?” Steve told you and that big, bad businessman voice was back, the one that made your toes curl and your cunt ache. Sweet, syrupy, demanding. He brought a hand between your thighs and cupped you, groaning at the heat and the slick that coated his fingers as he swept them through your folds. “She’s missed me,” he cooed, not asking but telling. Like it was a fact.

“This is the last time,” you told him and it felt like you were trying to tell yourself that too. “We don’t want the same things, fuck—” you were cut off on a gasp when Steve circled your clit, his gaze heavy and dark as he leaned in and let his forehead touch yours. “S’all gonna end in a mess.”

“In the car, honey,” Steve reminded you, neither agreeing or arguing with your words. There wasn’t any point. You both knew this wasn’t the end. “C’mon, be a good girl for me.”

So you stepped out of your underwear and left them lying, like some sick white flag, a symbol of surrender as you pushed Steve away and opened the back door, sliding over the seats as Steve joined you. The door clicked shut and silence took over, the dark and heavy kind that came with the late night, the one that carried a special type of tension and it filled the whole space, it fizzed and crackled in the air between you and it made you fucking breathless.

You watched with a tight chest as Steve sat back in the middle seat, already looking wrecked, his hair a mess from your greedy fingers. He spread his legs as much as he could in the tight space and he nodded to his lap, where you could already see the outline of his dick pressed under the denim. “Sit,” he said.

Not feeling as ready to argue anymore, you listened to the throbbing between your legs and obeyed, the top of your head grazing the car roof as you slid onto Steve’s lap, thighs spread over his in a way that made you burn that white-blue type of hot, because your dress was too short and your underwear was still outside. He could see everything when you looked down, hem of your uniform flirting too high, the dirty spread of you on display. Even in the low light he could see you shine, wet and ready, all for him.

But Steve kept his hands on the seats, practically lounging as he tilted his head back to look at you from where you were perched on top of him. He studied you, like a piece of art he was ready to buy. His eyes found yours before his gaze dropped to your nose, your cheeks, the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck. Then he found your lips, parted and wanting, the tip of your tongue peeking from between as if you were just dying for something to taste.

Maybe his fingers, you liked that. The heavy feel of them on your tongue so you could suck on them while he fucked you slow. Maybe his neck, right where it met his shoulder, that almost always bruised piece of skin that you bit down on when you came, riding Steve’s cock somewhere you shouldn’t and you had to keep quiet. Maybe you wanted his dick, too big to take all of it, but the stretch of your jaw and the hot slide of it over your tongue made you rock your hips against nothing, especially when Steve was feeling extra sweet and swept his hands over your face when you sucked him off, thumbing at the corners of your full mouth as he told you how pretty you looked.

But he offered none of those. No. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “what do you want?”

You looked at him, a question mark on your face, just able to see the shine of his eyes and the strong lines of his nose and jaw in the dark. His hands remained by his sides. “What?”

Steve smiled, just a small thing. “I said, what do you want?”

“You,” you answered shyly, only after a beat or two of quiet. You kept it deliberately vague, leaving it to the boy to decipher if that meant sex or more. Or both. “I want you, Steve.”

“You don’t want my money,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. He knew that already. “Not interested in where I could take you, what I could buy you. No,” Steve's voice grew warmer, softer, fond. “Told you before, didn’t I? I know my girl just wants fucked.”

You squirmed, nodding. Because if this was the last time, you’d make sure you enjoyed it. But then Steve did something even more unexpected. He let his hands settle on your thighs, still a little cold from being outside and you hissed at the slide of them going upupup. He didn’t touch your cunt though, didn’t let his fingers play with you like he usually did.

“C’mere,” he asked instead. “Close your eyes, yeah?”

Your brows stitched together at his request. You were hardly a stranger to blindfolds and surprises, but this didn’t seem like the time or place.

“You trust me?” Steve whispered and his gaze was on your lips, waiting.

It didn’t take you long to nod, because yes, despite it all, despite Steve’s issues with… commitment, you did trust him. You believed him about the other girls, about everything.

“Good girl. Close your eyes,” Steve asked again and you did.

The car seemed smaller with one sense gone. Eyes shut and Steve so near. You could feel his warmth, the way he moved into you a little more, closer than before until his breath was fanning over your mouth and chin and his nose was bumping yours. Your stomach tumbled.

“I can’t promise you anything,” he whispered into you. You could feel his lips moving, a barely there ghost against your own. His touch felt like a secret. “I don’t know how— how to be someone’s boyfriend. I’ve never done that. But I can try, if you’ll let me.”

You weren’t sure when your own hands had moved but they were fisting the front of Steve’s sweater. The letters for Harvard crushed in your palms and you were holding on for dear life.

“You said this was the last time,” Steve murmured and you wanted to open your eyes, you wanted to stare him down and challenge him but you did as he asked. You kept your eyes closed. “Is this the last time, baby?”

Baby.

“Or are you gonna give me a chance? I’ll do my best for you, I swear, I’ll try,” Steve’s mouth was moving over your cheek, kisses pressed there between each word until he was mouthing along your jaw and chin and you were weak, sitting on top of him and feeling like you could melt. “I’ll try for you, honey, don’t wanna lose you. Don’t want you with someone else.”

He was talking faster now, like there was an urgency there that wasn’t before and his hands were skimming up from your thighs to squeeze at your waist before his palms were cupping your jaw and pulling you to him. His lips touched yours, only just and you gasped like you’d been burned. Steve kept you there, panting hard, his own eyes closed now and his brow furrowed.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered and his voice cracked. Gone was the businessman. He smelled like mint toothpaste and cologne, like sunscreen. “We can stop this here and I’ll let you go and we can pretend we never met, if that’s what you want.”

You only clung to him tighter, one hand trailing blindly up his neck until you could pull at the longer hairs there and hold him. You made a noise of protest, tears lining your lashes as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut tighter so they’d stay in. You shook your head, nose brushing Steve’s, lips moving over his so, so briefly.

“I don’t want to stop.”

You weren’t sure what you thought your first kiss with Steve Harrington would be like. You’d thought about it a lot, sure. But it was usually in the heat of the moment, when he was inching inside of you, hips slapping against your own, your fingers tight in his hair and whispering filthy things to each other. You thought he’d kiss you like that, hard and fast and messy, with a dirty lick of his tongue. But Steve moved slowly, almost shy. He hesitated as he brought his thumb over your cheek, a brief touch before he was closing the gap and meeting your lips with his.

It was slow, careful. Soft. A gentle thing and Steve exhaled shakily, his breath fanning over your cheek as he tilted his head and let you press closer. His lips parted, tongue swiping over yours as the kiss deepened and when you let out a soft noise of appreciation, the boy groaned and his hands fell to your waist, squeezing and pulling you closer still.

Once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop.

Steve pulled away only briefly for you both to suck in a breath, his lips finding yours again until the kiss turned into the kind you’d thought about, a messy, dirty thing that had you whining into his open mouth, tugging at his hair until he let you swallow each groan. Steve’s eyes were closed when he spoke, chest heaving, words a low, rough rasp and his hands were under your dress now, fingertips skimming up the inside of your thighs until you were squirming.

“Want it, honey? Yeah?” Steve was mouthing over your jaw, kissing at your cheek as you panted, pulling at his belt buckle until you could free his cock from his boxers. He sounded drunk, wrecked. “That’s it, good girl, c’mon, take it. S’all yours.”

Steve let his head fall back, resting on the back seat of the car, eyes hooded as he watched you. You didn’t waste any time, pulling at the button of his jeans until you had enough room to free his cock. He was already hard, leaking for you, his breath hitching when you wrapped a small hand around him and pumped once, twice. You swiped a thumb over the tip, dragged the slick back down the length of him and leaned in, intent on making Mr. Steve fucking Harrington, business man, millionare, poker winner, car collector, fall apart for you.

Your nose slid against and your bottom lip brushed his, a teasing thing that you managed to not give into, even when Steve's lips chased yours. He’d made you wait months for a kiss, he could wait another minute or two. You pumped his cock again, fisting it a little tighter, the way you’d learned that he’d liked. He was quick to pant into your mouth, lips catching yours when he titled his chin up for you.

“Tell me it’s mine,” you coaxed, voice low and sweet, just the way Steve loved to speak to you. You palmed his cock, voice sugar. “Tell me this is mine.”

Steve’s hands swept up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin, grip bordering on too tight, a possessive touch. He was breathing heavily, the windows in the car starting to steam up, condensation running tracks down the glass. “S’yours,” he slurred, drunk sounding, softer than ever. “S’your cock, honey, promise.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, rutting yourself against Steve’s thigh as you touched him, foreheads pressed together, lips catching against each other and it pulled a moan from both of you when you raised up on your knees. Dirty, wet noises filled the car as you ran the head of his cock through your folds and Steve dragged your dress up, pushing the material over your hip so he could watch you sink down onto him, taking every inch.

He helped you bounce, up and down, up and down before you started a lazy roll of your hips, grinding down against the boy until you were pulling on his hair and whining into the crook of his neck. It was all too much and Steve’s hand grabbed at the nape of your neck, hand fisting in your own hair, bordering on too tight but he brought your face back to his, eyes half lidded as he gazed at you and pleaded: “shit, honey, kiss me? Kiss me, please, fuck-- m’gonna come.”

His neediness made you groan, a pitchy, breathy noise that Steve soon swallowed, your lips melting between his as he caught you in a kiss, open mouthed and possessive, teeth and tongues as he came. His hips bucked up as you rode him harder and the boy let go of your hair to cup your jaw, his free hand falling to rub at your clit with two fingers, white hot pleasure shooting up your spine. You fell into him, letting Steve catch you and you kissed him, eyes glassy, squeezed shut, your mouth on his as you both came hard. You felt Steve’s cock twitch, spilling into you as he kissed you, chest heaving against yours and as your hips slowed, so did his kisses, softer, kinder.

“You okay?” he breathed, breath fanning over your lips, your cheeks, your gaze blurry and unfocused. “Baby, you with me?”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

You nodded, nose knocking against his but you didn’t dare pull away. You didn’t want to. And by the looks of things, Steve wasn’t ready to let you go either. His hands soothed over your hair, pushing back the stray strands that clung to your damp forehead, your warm cheeks. He was still inside of you, softening only slightly, a mix of you both spilling over your thighs. It was dirty, filthy, it was the most tender thing you’d experienced with him.

“So good,” Steve breathed, cheeks flushed, his eyes shining. He looked drunk, he looked as gone as you felt, his hands roaming over you, touching every piece of bare skin he came across, palming greedily at your hips, your thighs, your ass. He dotted a line of kisses from your neck to your cheek, nosing there until you lifted your chin for him and kissed his lips, sighing as you did. “So fuckin’ good for me, all the time, huh? My girl, fuck, you’re so pretty, so, so pretty.”

You lazed against him, soaking up his touch, his words, the insane feel of his lips over your skin, your throat, chasing your lips until you pressed into him, opening your mouth when he did, tongues brushing over each other in languid strokes. Steve kissed like he fucked, like he wanted you to feel every part, like he wanted you to remember it for days.

“Come home w’me,” he murmured into your lips, never leaving them, never stopping his kisses. Steve whispered between words, hummed happily when your hands clasped his cheeks, when your fingers trailed over the stubble on his jaw. “Come back to mine, please. We can talk ‘bout everything. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, I’ll wake up beside you. Please.”

Your heart stopped at the idea of it all. The intimacy you hadn’t been given yet. The thought of Steve talking to you about something as serious and long term as a relationship. No dropping you home after five orgasms, kissing the back of your hand as he dropped you at your apartment at three am. No running off to an airport, no flights, no meetings, no business calls to interrupt.

“You can’t cook,” is what you said, voice muffled by his shoulder, the way your face was buried in the crook of his neck.

Steve scoffed, laughing even though you could hear the nerves there. He nosed at your cheek until you emerged, a hand wrapping gently around your neck, thumb pushed to the underside of your chin so you’d meet his gaze and the sincerity there took your breath away. You were still on his lap, his softening cock still inside of you but neither of you made the move to unravel from the other.

“I mean it,” he whispered and in the quiet of the night it was like you could hear his heartbeat. A thumpthumpthump that rattled the air between you, but fuck, maybe that was your own. “Come home with me, honey. I wanna-- I wanna make this right.”

-------

The next morning, Steve woke you up with his lips on your cheek, a soft, cautious thing that you leaned into even half asleep. Your bare chest pressed to his, your legs stretching out alongside the boy’s. You turned, arms needling around Steve’s neck so you could find his lips with yours, mouths searching, needy, suddenly desperate even with half closed eyes.

“Morning,” you murmured.

“Mornin’, honey,” Steve whispered back and you couldn’t see with your closed eyes but the boy was smiling, soft and proud and fond.

You were right, the night before, in the car. Steve didn’t cook. So after a shared shower where you let Steve hook your leg over his shoulder and kiss at your cunt until you came on his tongue - his eyes on your the entire time, his nose squished all pretty against your pussy as he came in his own fist, the waterfall shower raining down on you both - Steve took you out for breakfast.

Dressed in a pair of his running shorts that you had to roll up and one of his hoodies that had a tiny Yves Saint Laurent logo on the chest, you were relieved to find a pair of sneakers in your trunk. You’d mumbled that you’d looked ridiculous, but Steve had just used your embarrassment to kiss you again, hands on your cheeks and pulling you to him in the driveway.

He got to take his car instead of yours, only because you got to choose where to eat.

So Steve Harrington drove you both from his three story townhouse in his shiny BMW to a Mom and Pop’s just out of town. He held your hand across the parking lot, held the door open for you and plucked at his sweater collar to pull you in for a kiss over the table, red leather seats sticking to his expensive jeans. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, didn’t mutter about missing out on eggs benedict and caviar at the clubhouse because here, he got to kiss you all he wanted.

And it was worth it, to watch the way you softened for him, feet against his under the table, sharing a strawberry milkshake that didn’t really go with the hashbrowns and bacon you’d ordered. It was worth it, to leave his pager at home, to ignore the incessant beeping, emails pinging in his office about flights, meetings, business deals, money, shares, stocks.

Steve was realising it was all worth it, to have you.

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Three Years Later.

The sway of the boat made you feel weightless. A miracle really, considering how heavy you actually felt. The italian sun warmed your skin, mostly bare from your bikini, straps slipping down your shoulders as you lay flat on a lounger, sunglasses covering your eyes from the harsh blue skies above.

The water was the same colour, the gentle lap of the ocean on the sides making you sleepy. The bustle of the city was barely heard, Monaco in the distance as the yacht bobbed just outside of the harbour. Despite its size, The Smart Girl hardly had anyone on board. You were on the deck, catching the last of the day’s sun, with a few staff members milling around. And Steve? Steve was in one of the rooms he’d made into his office from home, a big oak desk taking up most of the space and he’d sit for hours taking calls, pouting at you from the open door as he tried to coax you in to sit on his lap. You’d always refuse, stretching out on your lounger, bikini top riding up, giving him a show until he could string enough words together to make an excuse to whatever big shot millionaire was on the other end of the line.

“There’s my baby.”

The lounger dipped as Steve pushed a knee to the cushion, crowding over you, leaning in to greet you with a kiss, tasting like aperol and oranges. You hummed into him, salt on both of your lips from the sun, the sea. Steve kissed your cheek too, moving down to nuzzle at your neck as his hand skimmed over your belly, the slight swell of it making your red bikini bottoms stretch out.

“And my other baby,” Steve cooed cupping your growing tummy.

“You said an hour, tops,” you complained but there wasn’t any heat behind it. It was hard to be annoyed about Steve leaving you to your own devices when the Mediterranean sea was rocking you to sleep. “No more business, right?”

Steve smirked at your bossiness, nodding as he leaned back down to ghost some kisses along your shoulder, he nipped at your jaw and hummed. “No more business, honey. M’all yours.”

The trip was supposed to be a babymoon of sorts, even though you were only a few months into your pregnancy and you were sure Steve would whisk you off somewhere else warm and sunny as the months passed. But he’d promised no business, no meetings and when the chance to join a conference call with the owner of the city's most prestigious club arose, Steve caved.

“I’ll buy you somethin’ pretty to make up for it,” he’d told you and you’d tried to act huffy but after three years together, the man saw right through you.

“How’d the call go?” You asked him, eyeing him greedily as he popped some buttons on his shirt, the white linen falling open to show off sunkissed skin, the gold chain around his neck.

Steve slipped his sunglasses from his pocket onto his nose, made sure to wink at you over the frame of them so you knew he saw your appreciative gaze. He stretched out next to you, one of the staff members appearing - Paul - with a tray of lemon water and glasses as he got comfy. “It went well,” he smiled his thanks to Paul and gave you a class, coaxing you to drink up. “We scheduled another call for when we’re back home to iron out some details. I told him my pretty wife would have me thrown overboard if I took any longer.”

Steve grinned when you frowned. “I wouldn’t do that,” you mumbled. “I’d just yell at you for a bit.”

Steve leaned in, still smiling, nosing along your jawline as his hand plucked at the flimsy strap of your bikini. “You know that would just get me all hot, right?”

You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your smile in his neck, tipping it back to let Steve kiss the skin there. He still smelled like he did when you first met him, the same expensive cologne, sunscreen and the Italian countryside. “You make me sound so bossy,” you murmured, meeting him for a kiss.

“You are,” Steve whispered, his hand back on your tummy, his thumb running over the bump in soft circles. “M’whipped, remember?” He held up his other hand, the band on his ring finger glinting in the sun.

“You complained when Eddie said it,” you teased.

“That’s ‘cause Eddie’s a dick,” Steve shot back but it was light hearted. “Speaking of, I promised him we’d meet him for dinner when we got back. I know it’s not your favourite but—”

“The clubhouse?” You groaned, pouting. “Really?”

“He loves the steak tartare there, honey, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I was fired from there—” you reminded him, voice surly.

“You’re a member there,” Steve quipped back. He kissed your palm, over your knuckles, lips grazing the diamond on your finger.

“—after my boss caught you going down on me in the ladies changing rooms,” you continued, cheeks still hot at the memory even if it was years ago. You’d never forget the expression on Frederick’s face. “I can’t look that man in the eye, never mind order dinner from him.”

“Fun times,” Steve smirked. “Don’t you love being able to click your fingers at the man who made your life hell? Order the most expensive champagne with all your money?”

You whined, a fake complaint as Steve manhandled you into his lap, letting you lie between his legs, your back resting his chest. He was warm from the sun, strong, solid. “I don’t click my fingers at anyone, Harrington. It’s rude. And it’s not my money, I’m unemployed. I’m basically a leech,” you pouted up at him, all faux dramatics.

Steve snorted at your words before leaning down, skimming his lips over your hairline, his hands, wide and warm, cupping the swell of your tummy. “You’re not unemployed, you’re on maternity leave. And studying. No woman of mine is working while she’s growing our baby,” he kissed your nose when you tilted your chin up to him, smiling. “And what’s mine is yours, Harrington,” he shot back.

“Your woman?” You raised your brows at his words.

“My favourite one,” Steve whispered. He was still all charm, even after the years had passed. His voice grew softer then, fingers trailing up your ribs. “Can’t wait to take you home - both of you - get settled, build a crib, paint a nursery.”

“You’re not building a crib,” you laughed, eyes shining. It was easy, it was wonderful, being this is love. This happy. “Have you even held a hammer before, Steve?”

He responded by nipping at your neck, enticing a squeal from you, a choked laugh. “You’re incredibly rude, Mrs Harrington, I’ll let you know I have, actually.”

You turned in his arms, kneeling between his thighs and you watched as his eyes darkened, gaze trailing over the way your breasts pushed out, the way your thighs pressed themselves together. “That’s not important,” he answered tartly and he grinned when you snorted.

The new house back in Indiana was modest, by Steve’s standards. But he’d let you choose, a family home that was built in the 1800’s with big, bay windows, original cornicing and a fireplace in each bedroom. A perfect family home, with more rooms in it than you could’ve ever imagined having.

It had been easier than you’d thought, to get here. With Steve Harrington, married and with a baby on the way. Not that you’d expected it, not back then. But weeks turned into months and months turned into years, your first anniversary sailing by without much issue. There were arguments, forlorn phone calls when Steve left for business and you had to work, shouting matches when the boy came home and tried to get you to quit work altogether, ‘cause you didn’t need a wage when you had him, right?

But he was quick to compromise, when it came to you. Kissing away your upset, swapping expensive gifts for genuine apologies, your favourite flowers that came by the handful instead of the boxes of hundred dollar bouquets made by someone else. Was he smug about it when the job at The Lake House came to an end? Sure. Too smug, maybe, considering he gave a half assed apology to Frederick with your lipstick trailed across his cheek and jaw. But he supported you - celebrated you - when you got a new position in a paralegal’s office, picking back up your textbooks that you once had to abandon.

There was a big bed to share now, a wardrobe that held both your clothes, suits and silk dresses, your old sweaters, Steve’s knitwear that was practically all yours. Your toothbrush next to his, your vinyls next to his record player, a stocked fridge with all the ingredients for his favourite meals, ready for you to reach him how to cook. There was sex, holidays, hotels, more sex, nights on the sofa with blankets and movies, a diamond, Steve in the driver's seat in the parking lot of that Mom ‘n’ Pops diner, the ring clutched between his shaky fingers as he told you how much he loved you. A pregnancy test, staring back at you both from the bathroom vanity, a year after the wedding in Cannes, the honeymoon in the Maldives.

Unplanned, yes? Unexpected, definitely. Did it make you both overwhelmingly excited? More than you could express.

Steve took your chin in his hand, pulling you in, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip, his eyes growing softer when you kissed at it. “Are you happy?” he whispered.

“With you?” you answered, smiling. “Always.

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communicationthroughlyrics · 10 days

Text

She Had Other Plans

You were a successful leader of a criminal empire. Your girlfriend was a successful tease, especially when you are halfway around the globe.

AN: I hate my mind sometimes. I just stew and stew and can't get an idea outta my head. So here is one of them. And this is my first time using one of those text message thingies, so yeah. And before yall ask, yes. there will be a part 2. 😂

TW: smut, daddy kink, strap-on sex, teasing, mentions of murder, mob!boss reader, uhhh yeah. Think that's it.

Word Count: 3.6K

In your line of work, you were away from home constantly. You traveled the world, helping to fuel people's darkest and most deceitful habits, for profit. Exploitation, power, and retribution were your specialties. Your heart had grown cold, at least to those on the outside, which was a necessary trait for your survival. You maintained your polished, playgirl public image well, a successful young business magnate, and you dabbled in philanthropy and charity to keep your reputation to the public clean.

Meanwhile, in the underbelly of society, you were ruthless, ensuring your legacy was cemented even if you departed this godforsaken world. You had climbed the ladder of power with precision, leaving a trail of the broken and betrayed beneath you. It was a world where trust was as fleeting as the morning dew, and everyone had a price. Those who worked for you closely would say you were calculating and charismatic, while those on the wrong side of the line knew you as being one step ahead, making your power felt through silence, vengeance, and detachment.

You had single-handedly become the largest mob boss in the United States, and that quickly spread into other countries, building relationships across the globe. Some were built on trust and loyalty, others on fear and mutual benefit.

Business had called you away to Malta, where you had to bury an up-and-coming threat to your growing kingdom and quell any unrest in your distant ranks. It had been a stressful week, albeit a successful one. When the phone call came across that ushered you away to the Mediterranean, you had been in the middle of…other business. Personal business. Having been teasing your girlfriend all day long, you had finally pushed the sexual tension to a head. The brunette had been panting and begging for you, dressed in lingerie that cost more than most people's cars.

When the call came through, you had left her with explicit expectations as to how she would need to handle her sexual fever in your absence. No touching. No teasing. Most importantly, no whining. That was your number one rule. Begging? Yes. Whining. No.

She had tried her damndest to get you to finish what you had started, but you knew this had to be taken care of expeditiously. So, you left a lace-clad goddess in your shared room while you literally left to murder someone. The following night, she began to push your buttons. She knew your limits, and experience taught her just how far she could push you to get a reaction, one that would benefit you both.

Wanda was 'conveniently' caught outside of your NYC penthouse, leaving in a barely-there skirt with a leather jacket and the pair of black Louboutins you had just bought her. The stocking-clad legs that were strutting out of your building, you knew should be wrapped around your waist, while you had her favorite strap buried to the hilt in her drenched pussy, or wrapped around your head as you mercilessly took out your workday frustrations on her.

However, you were 4,000 miles away, watching photos roll across your social media of the 'mystery woman' who had been able to bag you. You knew she was doing this on purpose, trying to flaunt what you walked out on 12 hours ago, leaving her a babbling, flustered, drenched mess.

Your hand tightened around the phone, your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Your blood boiled with a mix of anger and desire. You had given her an order, but she had chosen to ignore it. The thought of her walking around like that, looking like that, for anyone else to see made you want to rip out the throat of every man on the street. You had been looking forward to coming home to her, to teaching her a lesson she'd never forget. But now, it looked like she had decided to bring the lesson to you.

She flew under the radar for the next two days, and you were thankful. You missed her greatly, and you wanted to show her just how much when you got home. You were willing to let the wardrobe choice from the other night slide, just to have a night of wanton passion in the penthouse, no punishment, no edging, no teasing.

She had other plans.

You were in the middle of a meeting when your phone started to buzz incessantly in your slacks. This was a meeting you had to focus on, but the constant vibration indication yet another text had been sent was slowly chipping away at your resolve to stay sharp for this meeting. You had told her not to contact you during work hours unless it was an emergency. Looking at some of the texts, you knew this was no emergency. No matter how desperate she made herself sound.

You growled at the phone, knowing she wouldn't respond to any more texts from you. She was playing a game of cat and mouse, and you had a boardroom full of sharks waiting for your undivided attention. You slammed the device down, your eyes narrowing as you turned back to the table. Shutting the phone off, you knew that when it turned back on, you would be greeted with a disaster.

The meeting couldn't end fast enough, you wanted to call her and put her in her place, but the meeting ran long, as you and your new alliance couldn't quite come to an agreement for goods and services rendered.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you had come to an agreement, so you quickly and curtly nodded in everyone's direction, gathering your suit jacket and flinging it over your shoulder as you swiftly made your way down the hall to your waiting car, turning your phone back on as you approached the outside doors.

You climbed into the back of the black Town Car, opening your messages to see some pictures from your girlfriend, taken at obscure angles- her clad in a new lingerie set. You knew it was new, they were a color she hadn't worn before, a navy blue number that stood out against her tanned skin. The photos had been sent with no accompanying text, which was unlike her. Usually, she'd write something teasing, begging for your attention. But these were just…there. They were like silent pleas for your dominance, your authority. You groaned at the images before you, each more provocative than the next.

What made your pulse spike was the Snapchat notification from her. She had just sent you a video. Then there was another. She continued to send you videos until she had reached a total of 11. Knowing these would not just be an ordinary snap, you slipped a headphone into your ear while you opened each video, in the order you received them. The first was her dancing on the pole you installed in the corner of your room, the familiar sound of 'Skin' playing in the background as she worked her hips and taunted you through the phone.

The last video was the final straw. Your most fundamental rule.

She sent you a video of her, sprawled out on the bed, her features were flush, and her chest was heaving. She was still clad in her racy new lingerie, and it was then you noticed it was crotchless. Your mouth went dry at the thought, as her hands made their way up and down her body. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your phone, the scene before you becoming too much. She buried her fingers knuckle deep in her wet heat, pornographic moans coming through your earbud as you watched her pleasure herself.

You had told her explicitly, no touching herself. You had promised her that when you returned, you would take care of her needs. You had been looking forward to it, to watching her come apart in your arms. But here she was, in your own bed, disobeying you. The betrayal stung, but the sight of her was like a siren's call. You felt a storm of emotions, anger, desire, and something…more. It was a feeling that hadn't surfaced in a long time, something you weren't quite familiar with.

You boarded your jet and tried to calm the storm that was brewing deep within you for the 13-hour flight home. The images of her playing with herself, the thought of her ignoring your command, it was all you could think about. You felt a mix of anger, arousal, and a hint of something else that you hadn't felt in years. She was a challenge, and you hadn't had one a challenge in a very long time.

You tried to distract yourself, completing some work on your phone, trying to read articles about New York politics, but nothing could distract you from the inferno that was building up inside you. Each passing moment brought with it a new wave of desire, the images of her writhing in pleasure burned into your retina. You had to admit, she knew exactly how to push your buttons, and she had just pushed the biggest one of all. You slammed your phone down in frustration, crossing your arms as you peered out the window to the clouds below. After three hours of 'distraction', you finally fell into a restless, lustful slumber.

The flight seemed to drag on forever, but when you landed at JFK, you were more than ready to deal with her. You texted her, telling her to be home, naked, and waiting for you. You didn't care if she had plans or not, she'd learn to prioritize your commands. You had a feeling she was going to be a handful, but that was what you liked about her.

You stalked over towards the waiting convoy of blacked-out vehicles that were waiting to take you home. The sound of your dress shoes echoed through the private lobby to your elevator, as you impatiently waited for the cabled car to come down from the top floor, watching the numbers descend from floor 98 to you, on the third garage floor.

As you stepped into the elevator, you could feel the anticipation building. You were going to show her exactly who was in charge, and what happens when she breaks the cardinal rule. The doors closed with a satisfying 'ping', and you ascended to your penthouse, your mind racing with scenarios of what you would do when you saw her. The elevator doors parted, revealing the sleek, marble floors in your home, the baby grand piano tucked in the corner, and the twinkling New York skyline a backdrop to what carnal acts were about to take place. You turned on your heel, making your way to the furthest room in the house, your bedroom. As you made your way down the corridor to the bedroom, you noticed the doors shut, but a glow came from underneath them.

Your heart rate quickened, your hand hovered over the doorknob, and you took a deep breath before pushing the door open. She lay on the bed, huddled to one side, peacefully sleeping with a book in her hands. She looked innocent, but you knew better. You strode over to the bed, the floorboards giving a slight creak under your weight, but she didn't stir. Carefully, you plucked the book away from her, running your thumb over her nose to wake her up.

"Ragazza monella," you spoke softly, your pent-up frustration leeching into your normally collected voice.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing the deep pools of green that had captivated you from day one. She looked up at you with a lazy smile, not a hint of guilt in her gaze. "You're home," she purred, stretching her limbs like a cat in the sun.

"I see you couldn't wait for me," you said, your voice thick with unspoken accusation as you threw your phone to the side.

Her smile didn't waver. "I've missed you," she replied, her voice a low, seductive purr that sent a shiver down your spine. She sat up, letting the blanket pool around her waist, the hoodie she was wearing you instantly recognized as one of yours.

"I gave you an order, Wanda," you said, your voice low and menacing.

"And I chose to ignore it," she replied, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her audacity was like a drug, and you felt yourself growing more and more crazed at the sight of her. She knew the consequences of her actions, yet she reveled in them. "You know what happens when you don't follow orders," you growled, your hand sliding under the soft fabric of the hoodie to cup her cheek.

Her smile grew wider, and she leaned into your touch. "Do I?" she challenged, her voice a breathy whisper.

With a swift move, you had her pinned down on the bed, the fabric of the hoodie riding up to expose her lingerie-clad body. "You're going to regret this," you warned, your voice dark with desire.

"Am I?" she questioned, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Your hand trailed down her body, tracing the curve of her waist to the apex of her thighs. "You're already wet for me," you murmured, feeling the dampness between her muscular, toned thighs.

"I'm always wet for you, Papi," she emphasized your pet name, knowing how much you adored her calling you that.

Your eyes narrowed at her insolence, and you felt your cock swell with a mix of anger and desire. "You know the rules," you reminded her, your voice a mix of steel and seduction.

"And you know I love to break them," she whispered, her voice a seductive dance in the quiet room.

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, your grip firm but not painful. "This is your last warning," you murmured, your eyes dark with lust and promise of punishment.

Her eyes searched yours, looking for any signs of relenting, but she found none. Instead, she felt a thrill run through her body. This was what she had been craving, what she had missed in your absence. The power play, the delicious tension between your dominance and her submission.

"What's it going to be?" she asked, her voice a challenge wrapped in velvet.

Without a word, you yanked the hoodie over her head, leaving her in just the new lingerie set. The room was filled with the sound of fabric tearing as you ripped away the crotchless part of her underwear, exposing her glistening folds to the cool air. She gasped at the sudden exposure, her body arching into yours.

"You're going to learn your place," you said, your voice a low rumble. You leaned down, your mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss that claimed ownership over her. She moaned into your mouth, her body responding instinctively to your touch, her legs wrapping around your waist as she pulled you closer.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongue invading her mouth, demanding submission. She met your dominance with her own passion, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood. The taste of it made you growl, and you deepened the kiss, your hand sliding down to squeeze her ass.

Finally, you pulled away, breathing heavily. "You're going to get what you asked for," you warned, your eyes dark with lust.

Without another word, you flipped her over onto her stomach, her ass in the air, begging for your attention. You smacked her once, watching as the skin turned pink. She moaned into the pillow, her hips moving back, silently asking for more. You didn't disappoint, your hand coming down again and again, leaving a pattern of red across her skin. Each slap echoed through the room, punctuating the sound of your heavy breaths and her whimpers of pleasure.

You felt your own need growing, and you were glad that you had opted to change into her favorite suit with a strap-on surprise. You knew she was close, her body shaking with each smack, and you couldn't wait to watch her greedy pussy swallow your new toy whole. You slid your hand between her legs, finding her wet and ready. You whispered, "You're going to come for me now," and thrust two fingers inside her, curling them in a way that made her scream into the pillow.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing around your hand. You didn't stop, though, continuing to fuck her with your fingers until she was begging for mercy. Only when she was trembling did you pull away, standing up to remove your clothes.

When you were naked, you climbed onto the bed, the new dildo standing at attention. "You've had your fun," you said, your voice a low growl. "Now it's my turn." Her eyes widened at the sheer girth of your chosen method of punishment.

"I…I don't think that will fit," she whined, her lust-blown eyes boring straight into yours.

"Oh, it will. You remember your safeword, correct?" you nibbled down her neck as you settled between her legs.

"Yes," she moaned, her back arching against you.

"What is it?"

"Cl…clementine," she stuttered, her body wiggling and writhing beneath you.

You nodded as you slammed into her without preamble, her body accepting you with ease. She screamed your name, her legs tightening around your waist as you began to move. Each thrust was punctuated with a smack to her ass, leaving her skin stinging and her pussy clenching around you. You knew she liked it rough, she was addicted to the pain, but you were going to give her more than she had bargained for tonight.

This was your domain, and she had forgotten her place. You were going to remind her, over and over again, until she was nothing but a quivering mess beneath you. Until she understood that no matter how much she tested you, she would always be yours to command, to punish, to pleasure.

You slammed into her, the sound of your hips slapping against her filling the room. The dildo stretched her to her limits, each inch driving deeper until she was crying out for you to stop. But you didn't. You knew she could take it, knew she craved the pain that came with your passion. The bulge from the tip of the toy poked out her abdomen with every thrust, you pressed down on her stomach where it was appearing, causing her to arch further into your touch.

Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as you picked up the pace. You watched the way her body moved underneath you, the way her breasts bounced with each thrust, and the way her ass cheeks clapped together. You felt yourself getting closer, your strokes becoming more erratic. You reached around, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at you. "Who do you belong to?" you demanded, your voice a low growl.

"You," she whispered, her eyes glazed over with pleasure.

"Say it louder," you ordered, giving her another smack on the ass.

"I belong to you!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from the moans that had escaped her mouth.

"Beg to cum, amore," you growled in her ear, nibbling down the shell.

"Fuck," she moaned out, her eyes briefly fluttering open before screwing shut again.

"Not until you beg," you reminded her, your voice like a whip crack in the quiet of the room. You could feel your orgasm building, the muscles in your thighs tightening with each powerful thrust. Her cries grew more desperate, her hips moving back to meet yours, pushing herself onto the dildo with a fervor that was almost painful to watch.

"Please," she finally begged, her voice breaking. "I need to come."

You smirked, feeling the power surge through you. "That's all you got, baby?" You taunted, increasing the speed and force of your thrusts. "After all that, the teasing, the videos, this is how you show me you miss me? This is how you show me that you need Papi to make you feel good?" She whined and squirmed beneath you, her body shaking with the effort of holding back her climax. "Beg harder," you whispered, leaning down to bite her earlobe.

Her voice grew more frantic. "Ple…please, Papi," she gasped. "I need to come, I need you to make me come."

"You can do better than that," you grabbed ahold of one of her legs, pulling it over your shoulder as you continued the relentless assault on her swollen, leaking pussy. You leaned down, resting your other hand on her throat, gently applying pressure as you picked up your pace. "I said to beg for it, so fucking beg for it," you whispered, your breath hot against her skin.

Her eyes snapped open, the green orbs locking onto yours, filled with a mix of anger and desperation. "Fuck me harder," she pleaded, her voice strained. "Make me cum, Papi."

The sound of her demanding sent you over the edge, and you slammed into her, the erratic thrusts as you came only spurring her pleasure further. You felt her pussy tighten around the dildo, her walls pulsing as she climaxed hard, her body shaking beneath you. You didn't stop until she was limp, her cries of pleasure turning into breathless gasps.

You continued to work the toy into her, slowly building her back up.

"I didn't give you permission, amore mio," you looked down at her, panting as her chest heaved.

"I know," she panted back, "but I had to make sure you knew how much I missed you."

You couldn't help but smirk at her audacity. She knew how much power she held over you, how much she could push you. "You're going to pay for that," you whispered, your voice a dark promise.

Her eyes lit up, and she bit her bottom lip, egging you on. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x female reader

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0xstarzx0 · 3 months

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𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 | ONE-SHOT

Princes Rafe Cameron x Witch Readers

{OPEN COMMAND}

[English is not my native language❗️❗️]

SYNOPSIS: During a trip, Rafe is ambushed. Fortunately, a beautiful woman gets in his way.

TW: smut, plush, mention of murder, sex in V, caresses, sex vaginal , masturbating, unprotected sex, penetration.

______________________________________________

In 1600, witches were feared by all, feared like the plague. In a series of large-scale killings, no witches survived. Survivors were forced to live in the shadows, forced to hide their powers for fear of a being burned at the stake.

Rafael Ward Cameron, the first of his name, was on the verge of becoming king. His father had recently died, and as the eldest of three children, the position was now his.

He was beloved and supported by his people, despite his reputation as a womanizer, Rafe was involved in the future of his people.

On his way south to sign a peace deal with the Country, Rafe's carriage was attacked. His guards were savagely killed as he fought against his enemies.

That was the last thing Rafe remembered.

You carefully pour the mixture on his chest, trying not to wake him. His injury is deep and could be fatal if not treated properly.

Your eyes are drawn to the faint line of hair that descend beneath the covers. Your hand moves slowly towards his body, unsure of what you are doing.

Rafe starts to blink his eyes as his senses sharpen as he feels fingers touching his skin.

He looks around and spot you, your hand moving beneath the covers.

He can see an obvious uncertainty in your demeanor that Rafe hates.

With a quick movement, he grabs your wrist firmly, causing you to let out a frightened gasp.

"Stop it."

He growls weakly, feeling exhausted, as if someone is pounding his head. He uses all of his strength to sit up.

Once he has fully recovered his senses, his eyes properly observe the room, taking in the herbs, candles, grimoires, precious stones, crystals, and potions. The sight makes him uneasy, but the mirror piques his curiosity the most. He feels a sense of uncertainty building within him.

"You're... a witch"

he manages to say, his voice cold but with a hint of menace.

You were about to respond, but then he grabs you roughly and pushes you onto the bed, straddling you and choking you. His eyes are filled with anger, but you can see a flicker of fear within them.

He holds onto you tightly, using his weight to pin you down on the bed. His jaw was obviously clenched, and his breath came in ragged gasps that mingled with yours, his face so close that you could see the obvious mix of anger and pain in the way his body tensed.

He keeps you pinned there in silence, his hands clenched around your throat, almost as if testing your limits.

You say nothing, too scared. You can feel how angry he is, and if he wanted to, he could easily break your neck.

He held your gaze for a few more moments, his grip still firm around your neck. But slowly, his own body started to relax as the mixture you hadapplied a few minutes ago began to take effect. His eyes started to droop a little, and the anger in his expression started to soften.

He slowly blinked, his grip on your neck loosening slightly. He tried to speak, but the words came out with difficulty and confusion.

"W-What.. did you.. do.. to me."

You move away from him, readjusting your dress and carefully covering his bare body under the sheets.

He watches you move away from him, his eyes still foggy and confused, as the mixture slowly but surely makes its way through his system, making him feel weak and disoriented. He attempts to protest, but his words come out clumsy and confused.

His limbs were heavy and uncooperative, making it difficult for him to move, a wave of immense frustration crossed his face as he was forced to remain lying down.

"What did you do to me...?"

✩✽✩

The pain and tension seemed to melt away from his body as the mixture took full effect. His breathing began to slow and even out, and his eyes slowly closed, fighting to stay open. His body became limp and he quickly slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Rafe began to slowly regain consciousness. His eyes opened slowly, and he grimaced as the sunlight passed through the thick window curtains. His body still felt heavy and fatigued, but the pain had significantly lessened.

He sat up at the end of the bed, his hands running over his chest, feeling the bandages wrapped around his chest. He took a deep breath.

You are in the main room, keeping an eye on the soup boiling over the fire. The clothes of the stranger you saved a few days ago are drying outside, they seem to come from a royal family.

You hear grunts and heavy noises.

Rafe slowly exited the bed, his body still feeling weak but stable. He stumbled over to the window, his eyes scanning the forest. He noticed the clothes drying outside, recognizing them thanks to the colors of the kingdom.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated. The memory of the attack came back to him, and he winced as he touched a bruise on his ribs, those assholes did not hold back.

A loud noise echoed through the house, and you turned to see the handsome stranger staggering.

You quickly got up to help. In order to stabilize him, he slammed you against the wall and grabbed the knife that was sitting on a nearby table.

He looked at you as if you had tried to assassinate him.

Rafe was indeed kind but he could not bear the idea that a witch had cast a spell on him to calm him down - even if you had only done so to help.-

"Why am I here?"

You are unable to speak, paralyzed by his eyes which are filled only with rage.

His grip on the knife tightened and his eyes narrowed even further.

He spoke again, his voice dripping with hostility.

"I asked you a question. Where am I and how did I end up here?"

You look at him, he moves the knife closer to your eye. You finally open your mouth.

"I found you dying, near here." You swallow.

His expression softens as he listens to your explanation, but his guard is still up.

He slightly backed away, giving you some space to breathe, but he still held the knife tightly in his hand.

"Why did you save me?"

You catch your breath, unaccustomed to human contact, and especially, you were certain he was going to kill you.

"You weren't completely dead, I just wanted to help... Your loved ones would have probably cursed me if I hadn't. If I could have, I would have saved the others too." You avoided his gaze.

His eyes narrow again as he listens to your answer. He can sense the honesty in your words, but something about the way you look so gullible disturbs him.

"So you just happened to come across me and thought, "Why not save this stranger?" Do you usually save princes , because if so, please consider reconsidering your approach."

Tu laugh. "Lucky you're not one then." Rafe frowns and crosses his arms across his chest, avoiding touching his wound.

Seeing how truly unaware you seemed, he let out an humorless laugh, his grip on the knife loosening slightly.

"Well, I suppose I should introduce myself then. Rafael Ward Cameron the first, Prince of the North"

"My name is Y/N." You offer him your hand, which is dirty. You quickly clean it on your dress and offer it to him again.

Rafe raised an eyebrow at the sight of her dirty hand, typically women would curtsey to him. They wouldn't offer him their hands to shake, especially not if they were dirty.

But he took it anyway. Your skin was rough, clearly accustomed to manual labor. Feeling the contrast between his smooth, immaculate hand and your calloused one.

The contrast made him confused. You were a pretty girl, despite your height and slightly too generous curves. you have perfect legs for childbearing.

"Y/N," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue.

"Are you hungry?" you ask. "I made some soup."

You help him walk over to the table, clearly unbothered by the fact that he is naked.

He sits heavily on the chair. He watches you move your things off the table. The aroma of the soup is tantalizing, and his stomach growls, reminding him how long it's been since he's eaten.

You hand him the bowl, which he takes carefully. His fingers brush yours briefly, sending an odd sensation through you. He sips the soup carefully at first, but once the hot, savory liquid hits his tongue, he can't help but devour the meal with relish.

You sit down next to him and smile. Enjoying the fact that he's devouring your soup.

"There's plenty more."

✩✽✩

It had been a few weeks since Rafe had been with you, he was almost fully healed, it was only a matter of time before he would leave, perhaps even days or hours.

You read your book, trying to figure out why witches are portrayed as heartless creatures. Rafe stands behind you, reading the artifacts he holds in his hand.

He is close enough to feel the warmth of your body. He had strangely become fond of your presence, you didn’t treat him like a prince, but like a friend. He liked the fact that he was alone with you.

He moves closer to you, his breath caressing your neck. Without thinking, he leans in and gently presses his lips against your skin, trailing a path towards your ear.

"What are you reading?"

You freeze, it's the first time anyone has ever acted this way with you. You turn and look at him.

Your faces are only inches apart. Excuse me...what did you say?

"I asked you what you were reading." He repeats, his voice low and heavy, triggering something inside you. He lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers remaining on your cheek.

You turn your gaze away and show him the book.

"I'd like to know why witches are considered the most evil and terrifying creatures, so I stole this one." You say casually.

He smiles slightly, amused by your response.

"Witches are feared because their powers are considered an affront to nature and society." He explains, his eyes scanning your face.

"How do you know?" You ask, turning to face him.

"The army." He shrugs. "Witches are nice though..." You say that but you don't know any apart from your mother.

"I know." he says quietly. "You've only shown me kindness and compassion these past few weeks."

You smile, he slowly leans closer. Your lips connect but they don't kiss.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Rafe closes the space between you, his lips gently caressing yours. It's a soft, hesitant kiss, he can feel his breath mixing with yours as he deepens the kiss, his hand moving to rest on your waist.

Your lips make the same movements as his, he gently runs his large hands under your dress.

He can sense your inexperience, the way yours touch is hesitant and uncertain. He gently pushes you down onto the bed, his body covering yours. His hands roam over your curves, mapping unfamiliar shape as he explores your innocence with a tender and reverent touch.

"Don’t worry," he whispers, his lips hovering above your neck. "I’ll show you"

You wrap your legs around his, closing your eyes as you experience something new, a blend of pleasure and desire.

Rafe groans at the sensation, your body heat pressing against his. He kisses your neck again, his hands sliding upwards to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your dress.

You let out a series of uncontrollable moans from your mouth, they may sound obscene but the feeling is so good.

Rafe feels a primal desire to claim you as his own. He grinds his hips against yours teasingly, both of you reacting to the stimulation.

You moan looking at him, his chest is so magnificent that not running your fingers over it is challenging.

Rafe growls low in his throat, your chest too large for him to fully cup, he grinds against your palm.* "Touch me," he whispers, guiding your hand downwards to encourage you to explore his abs. "I want to feel your hands all over me."

"Are you sure?..." you ask timidly.

Rafe nods, his eyes darkening with desire as he watches you touch him. He grabs your wrist, guiding it towards the belt of his pants."Yes."

You touch him hesitantly, his face changes into an expression you don't recognize. You stop touching him, unsure. His eyes narrows as a flicker of impatience passes through them. "Why did you stop?" he asks.

He reaches out to take your hand gently, bringing it back to his chest. "Don't stop," He whispers softly.

You feel his hand moving up your thigh. You gently pass your fingers over the bulge in his pants. "Am I hurting you?" you ask, concerned. He shakes his head, biting his lip as he pulls you closer. "No, don't stop. Keep going,"

Rafe lets out a shaky breath as your fingers trace the prominent bulge of his erection. It's hard as a rock, throbbing at your touch. "Oh that's incredible," he moans, his hips moving involuntarily. "Please don't stop."

You do as he says without hesitation. He groans softly as you continue to touch him, his body reacting to your touch. "You're so good at this," he praises, his hands roaming over your body as he deepens the kiss.

Rafe gasps as you start to unbutton his belt, your fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle. He reaches out to help, his own hands trembling with anticipation. "That's it," he encourages, his voice stretched taut with need. "Take it off."

You slowly remove his pants, revealing his tight underwear that bulges with a large lump. "Are you okay?" you ask with concern. He nods, a hungry look in his eyes as he watches your every move. "Yes, I'm more than okay,"

"I need to be inside you," he say, his voice husky with desire. You takes a moment to understand what he were asking for, then his eyes light up as you finally understands.

"How?" You asks, excitement coursing through your veins. "Like this."

The smile on Rafe's face widens as he lifts you up, positioning you over his throbbing cock. He teases your entrance with it, rubbing it against your wet folds, which seems to be working. "Tell me you want me inside you, Y/N,"

Your voice trembles with need, your breath hitching with every passing moment."I want you... I want you..."The words spill from your lips as you arch your back, trying to seek out his touch.

Rafe groans, pushing deep inside you with one powerful thrust. He remains still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size before starting to move. "I could give up an entire kingdom for you." he moans, his hips smacking against yours as he fills you again and again.

You moan, pressing your forehead against his. "It would be unfair to you." The words are mumbled against his lips, your mind hazy with pleasure and desire.

Rafe moans, his thrusts becoming more insistent as he demands more from you. He grabs the back of your neck, pulling your chest against his as he kisses you deeply. "I don't care what it costs, Y/N. I want you."

You moan in pleasure, the sound so loud that you worry about hurting his ears.

But the desire coursing through your body is too intense and you find yourself unable to control it.

Rafe's thrusts become more desperate as you cry out with passion. He reaches between you, rubbing your clitoris as he pounds his dick deep inside. The sensations overwhelm you and you arch up into the touch."AH!"

You moan desperate in pleasure, refusing to let it stop. Rafe looks at you with pure passion, his thrusts becoming more urgent, as if driven by some primal need. "Y/N, I need you to come..."

Rafe groans, his movements becoming erratic as he feels your body clench around him. He knows he's close, his balls tight as he drives into you with increasing desperation.

"I don't want to go back to the castle but if I have to," he growls, rubbing your clit faster."I want you to be my queen." His words are a dark promise, his hips thrusting wildly as he chases his climax.

You cry out with greater intensity, closing your eyes as your breath becomes ragged and your body trembles. The combination of his rough thrusts and skilled fingers has pushed you dangerously close to the edge.

Rafe's hand works feverishly as his groans fill the room. His fingers dance over your sensitive clit, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

He can feel your walls pulsing against his cock, pushing him over the edge. With a final, hard thrust, he growls as he releases inside of you.

Your body goes rigid as you feel Rafe's cock pulsing deep inside, milking out every last drop of his seed. "You've got a kingdom to rule, Rafe...I can't come, it would be.-"

He whispers against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "You are worth more than any crown." He slowly begins to pull out, letting out a soft sigh at the sensation of your walls gripping him.

"Don't say that."

Rafe can't love a witch, Rafe must love someone from a good family. Someone whom he knows his empire will prosper with.

You will always be faithful to him, but a witch in command of an entire kingdom? That would be a disaster. "I’m a witch Rafael.."

His eyes search yours, his hand gently gripping your cheek as he looks at you with an intensity that makes your delicate porcelain heart skip a beat. "Y/N, I'm not afraid of who you are," he says softly, his thumb caressing your skin. "I'm afraid of losing you."

Your heart shatters, you feel as if the fragments are echoing throughout your being, your hands shaking. "You'll be leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow. I'll send animals to help you not get lost." You put as much space as possible between you and leave the room.

Rafe's heart aches as you walk away from him, his body remaining still as he watches you leave. He feels the distance between you growing with every step you take and it is tearing him apart inside. "Y/N, wait."

The next day, in the early hours, you felt the bed empty next to you.

When you woke up a little later, Rafe had disappeared. He had taken one of your necklaces, the one with your initials and left one of his cuff links along with one of his medals as a symbol of eternal loyalty.

He’s waiting for you. He’s waiting for you to come so you can live the life you deserve.

✩✽✩

.pt2?

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phantasmiac · 2 years

Text

dabi who has no concept of having loving sex until he meets you

tw/cw: smut (mdni), afab!reader, soft dom!dabi, mentions of bdsm, one allusion to prostitution (not reader)

wc: 0.6k

a/n: thought i’d always be too embarrassed to write anything sexually explicit and i AM 🤧

dabi who’s always gotten off to watching sadistic, hardcore bdsm porn and is completely unfamiliar with the concept of sex that means something. i know there’s a whole debate on whether or not he’s a virgin but in my head he’s had his fair share of hook ups with random people he’s met in sketchy places, maybe even coughed up some money during times he was especially horny, pent up and desperate.

and then he meets you and suddenly his dick doesn’t twitch at the sight or even the thought of his hand wrapped around your throat or his belt keeping your hands tied up behind your back? it confuses him because he knows he’s attracted to you, so why isn’t his body reacting the way it’s supposed to? you notice his dilemma, and his definition of fucking hasn’t exactly been doing it for you either. it was alright the first few times, when the sexual tension was at an all time high and you were eager to have him in any way you could; but now you just feel empty, even when he’s balls deep inside you.

he’s very hesitant when you suggest taking things at a slower, more intimate pace. stiff as a board (just not in the right area) when you take the lead at first, gently kissing down his torso and lacing your fingers through his. but then it’s his turn to be on top. “take your time”, you remind him, hands cradling his face as you guide him down your body. you take his scarred, motionless hands and cup them around your tits. and even though he’s skeptical about this whole thing, he’s willing to learn and try it out if it means getting his dick to function around you again. you nod at the confusion in his eyes that makes him look oh so innocent, encouraging him to go ahead and touch you.

he circles his thumbs around the buds, slowly. gives them gentle licks, slowly. all while keeping his eyes locked on the pretty little face that had his pants all tight before he actually got you in bed for the first time. he doesn’t know whether to blame it on the way your lips part or the broken affirmations that leave them; maybe it’s the way they’re left all red and bruised after you pull them by your teeth, or the way your eyelashes flutter all seductively to expose the hearts in your eyes when you look back at him from above. maybe it’s all of it. all of it has him more than just hard; it already has him leaking pre cum. it’s fucking embarrassing, how he’s made a mess while just mouthing at a pair of tits. but even more embarrassing is the way he ruts against the mattress at the sight of the pleasure written all over your face while he eats you out; slowly, until he can’t take it any longer and starts lapping at your cunt like a man starved.

before you, dabi had never thought to press kisses down someone’s thighs or to their clit. never cared to ask if he was making them feel good; a stark contrast to the way he demands to hear your moans and affirmations. to hear that he’s making you feel good. he could have easily fucked every person in the country without asking to see their face, but grips your chin to force you to look at him so he doesn’t miss a single one of your expressions. if there’s an after you, whether it be after a breakup or a falling out, dabi falls right back into his old habits. because dabi is a sadomasochist; he’ll treat anyone like shit and enjoy it, whether it be emotionally, physically, mentally or sexually; anyone but you.

a/n ii: i don’t think smut will become a regular thing on this blog i’ve just always had this interpretation of dabi and i had to let the world know

#dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi drabble #dabi imagine #dabi x y/n #dabi angst #dabi fluff #dabi fanfic #dabi smut #touya todoroki x reader

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vamossainz55 · 1 year

Note

carlos + 36 for the kiss prompts 😵‍💫😭

(36) a kiss to give up control — CS55

a/n: thank u anon, i hope you enjoy. i hope i was able to describe the moment well <3 tw: mentions of fwb/situationships (minors dni), swearing, that is it

“You’re too quiet, what’s wrong?” The question floats in the air for a while, enough to make Carlos question what’s going through your head. The ground is cold and hard, but he moves to lay on his side and tuck his arm under his head.

The grass tickles him a bit more like this but he doesn’t mind, preferring to lay like this to look at you. The light from the moon casts over you both, and he can see the rise and fall of your chest as you let out a sigh.

“Just thinking,” You finally answer, feeling the way Carlos is studying you. You turn your head to look back, watching the way he looks over your features, how his eyes go to your lips before returning to hold your gaze.

It had been a crazy summer break, something that you had not expected from traveling to the country-side with your parents. When they had told you they were set to invite their friends and their son to come with, you hadn’t expected someone like Carlos to walk in through the front door.

The tension was palpable from the very first night, your gaze a bit too fixated on his slightly unbuttoned shirt whilst his own couldn’t help but follow you as you walked through the living room in a dress that was probably a bit too short for you.

Three days into your two week break you both found yourself in Carlos’ bed, praying that the rest of the house would sleep through the night. It was the next morning that Carlos had tried to kiss you, lips mere inches away from yours before you had pressed your hand to his chest. I don’t kiss people I don’t date. You had said.

It wasn’t the last time you woke up in Carlos’ bed, but despite Carlos’ attempts you never let him get too close, staying firm on your decision.

“Are you coming over tonight?” He asks. It’s the last night that he’s staying, Carlos Sr. having some last minute obligations that had cut their week a bit too short for their liking, and frankly yours too.

“Don’t know if I should,” You both know you want to, but Carlos only nods, lets his tongue run over his lips as you shift to fully face him as well.

You both lay there quietly, letting the rustle of the branches fill in the silence.

“I really want you to stay with me tonight,” Carlos murmurs, as if his confession would scare you off. He’s not wrong though because he sees the way you slightly tense, how your eyes scan over his face for his sincerity.

None of you had said it, but you both knew that although it had first started as something fun it was far more complicated than that now.

Carlos makes his point to move closer when you don’t answer, almost closing the space between you both as his hand goes to your cheek. “Please?” He murmurs, not missing the way your cheeks flush red.

Your lips part, mind telling you to reject the request, to let things be. It didn’t have to be complicated if you didn’t let it become complicated.

But your words don’t come out and instead you shut your lips again, taking a breath in as you nod quietly. He smiles small, thumb gently tracing at the corner of your lips.

Shit, you think. You want to kiss him.

“Carlos,” It’s supposed to come as a warning, as a way to tell him to move away, but instead it comes out as a request, a plea. You don’t remember the last time you felt like this, the last time you’ve been left tongue-tied with your heart on your sleeve.

His eyes fall back to your lips, head ducking down as his nose brushes yours. You know you can move him away, tell him to stop, but you don’t want to. You don’t stop him when his hand cups your cheek, or when his lips gently press against yours.

You thread your fingers through Carlos’ hair, gently pulling him closer as you kiss him back, allowing yourself to savor the moment, For once you’re not worried about what it all entails, what will happen the next morning.

Moments later you pull away breathless, still pressed close against him as your eyes stay locked into one another’s.

There’s so much floating in the air, so much unsaid. For once in your life, you don’t care.

You kiss him again.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #carlos sainz imagine #f1 imagine #cs55 #a kiss... drabble

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haitanisupremacist · 26 days

Text

Tokyo revengers boys accidentally snapping at you.

Mikey, Baji, chifuyu, draken, Rindo.

Tw: mentions of alcohol, angst, fluff.

My first post btw :)

Requests open <3

Mikey

You and Mikey were pretty much inseparablethe two of you would sit together at gang meetings or either at Mikey’s favorite spot or at a restaurant since you know he likes to eat a lot as the two of you were currently at a gang meeting you noticed Mikey was irritated and upset over something that had to do with another gang going against toman so you go over and ask him. "Mikey? Are you okay?" You grab his arm. He doesn’t say anything as he’s clearly zoned out. You ask him again, "Mikey? Hey I’m talking to you.." he snaps his head at you "tsk, can you just shut up for a bit y/n!" He says raising his voice at you. Your eyes widened at his sudden outburst you didn’t really know what to say it’s the first time he’s told you that in an angry way so you got up and walked away..Mikey sighs realized he was to harsh with you so he followed after you he grabs your arm. "Y/n..wait I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you" you looked at him "no I’m sorry i was being a bit annoying" he hugs you. "No you weren’t I was the asshole here i shouldn’t have been harsh with you." You smile and nuzzle against his neck as he keeps hugging you.

Baji

Baji would spend most of his time with you at the pet store or either he’ll take you with chifuyu and it would be the three of you, the three of you would be currently hanging out at a nearby park eating yakisoba. "no way! That’s you dumbass!" You would be laughing with chifuyu over something he said he accidentally pushes your shoulder a bit hard it caused you to bump against Baji making him drop his yakisoba you gasp. "I-I’m sorry babe I didn’t-" Baji snaps his head at you. "Damn it! Y/n I didn’t even take a bite of it! I was hungry all damn day!" He says angrily. "Baji it was an accident..here just take mine" you hand him yours. "No maybe if you weren’t so clumsy I wouldn’t have dropped mine" you looks at him raising your brow, "Baji it’s just yakisoba it’s not a big deal…" he farrows his brow. "No you’re just dumb.." your eyes widened. "..unbelievable..whatever" you walk away as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. Chifuyu looks at Baji. "It was actually my fault Baji you shouldn’t have snapped at her" he sighs he walks behind you. "Come here" he pulls you to him. "I’m sorry beat my ass I deserve it" you raise your brow. "I forgive you..now stop being so mad and eat my damn noodles" you grab his face. "We share!" He says You chuckle he throws you over his shoulder and takes you back.

Ps: he smacked chifuyu in the back of the head since he caused it :)

Chifuyu

You’ve spent the whole day with chifuyu at his house playing games or watching movies and even enjoying time with chifuyu’s cat peke j meanwhile you guys were petting peke j talking about that he would look very adorable wearing elf costume for cats since Christmas is almost here "there’s people from my country that would put cute costumes on their cats"he looks at you. "We should try that but he’ll probably hate it" you chuckle at his response. "I’m gonna get some more water. I’m like really thirsty today." As you got up to refill your glass of water, you noticed Chifuyu’s peke j, lounging lazily on the floor, his body sprawled out in a patch of sunlight. You stepped carefully around him but misjudged the distance. Before you knew it, you felt a sudden crunch underfoot. You froze, panic threading through you as you turned to see peke j’s wide eyes and Chifuyu’s horrified expression. “Y/N! Watch where you’re stepping!” Chifuyu exclaimed, rushing over to him. “I—I didn’t mean to! I thought he was further away!” you stammered, guilt flooding your system. “Seriously, you need to pay more attention! He’s not a toy he’s a living creature!” Chifuyu’s voice edged on irritated. “I said I was sorry! It was an accident,” you shot back, your own annoyance flaring up. As tension lingered in the air, the two of you exchanged frustrated glances before you both took a deep breath. "Just be careful y/n he’s important to me and you know why.." he says and you nod. "I know I’m sorry" you hug him and pet peke j as well.

Draken

Draken would give you his time mostly he loves being around you sometimes he would be busy either being with Mikey or fixing his motorcycles since that’s what he works on at his shop D&D motors but today was different for you because you wondered why hasn’t draken respond to your text. Outside, you paced back and forth, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. You shot another glance at the screen, waiting, hoping for the familiar name to light up with a reply. It was unlike Draken to leave you hanging for so long today felt different. The sinking feeling in your stomach grew heavier. What if he was ignoring you? What if something had happened? Without thinking twice, you took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the shop, the jingle of the bell above announcing your entrance. “Draken!” You called out, trying to keep your voice steady. He looked up, a smudge of grease marking his cheek, surprised to see you. "Y/N? What are you doing here?” You crossed your arms, unable to hide the irritation creeping into your voice. “I’ve been texting you! You didn’t answer, and I thought—I thought you were ignoring me.” Draken stood up, wiping his hands on a rag, his expression shifting to one of confusion. “Ignoring you? No, I was just… busy.”….Busy?” You echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I get that you’re working, but you could’ve at least sent a quick reply! I was worried!” He raised his voice at you. "Damn it y/n! I can’t just be there 24/7 I need some of my time too stop nagging!"..You gasp as silence filled the air. "I’m sorry baby..I’m just stressed about this damn thing it’s a bit complicated than I thought." he says sighing. you nod at him as you hug him. "It’s okay I’m sorry for that too" you waited for him to finish his day sitting patiently.

Rindo

The door swung open, and Rindo stumbled into the living room, the scent of stale alcohol trailing behind him. His shirt was wrinkled, and dark bruises marred his arms. You curled up on the couch with a book you felt your stomach drop at the sight of him drunk again. “Rindo, what happened?” You asked, setting the book aside, your heart racing with concern. He swayed slightly, leaning against the doorframe for support. “Just a little fun with the guys,” he slurred, attempting a nonchalant grin that only emphasized his shaky demeanor. You stood up, worry etched across your face. “You need to stop drinking so much. This isn’t just ‘fun’ anymore. Look at you!” He shot back, his frustration boiling over. “I can handle it! Why are you always on my back? It’s just a couple drinks!” His voice was loud, edged with irritation, and you flinched as if he had struck you. “Just a couple drinks? Rindo, you have bruises! You’re hurting yourself! With these damn fights! You exclaimed, your tone rising in equal measure. “I don’t want to see you like this. You don’t care how it affects me!” Rindo narrowed his eyes, his anger flickering like a flame in the wind. “You don’t understand anything! I’m not your child!” The room fell silent for a moment, the air thick with tension. Your heart broke at his words, and your resolve began to crumble. “I just care about you…”He looked away, wrestling with his own emotions. You were right the anger was misplaced. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a wave of shame wash over him. “I’m sorry,” he finally muttered, his voice softer, laced with regret. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just… I don’t know.” You took a step closer, your expression softening as you examined his face. “I’m just scared,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t want to lose you.” Rindo sighed deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I know," he whispered. "I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll try to do better. I promise.”you nodded, relief flooding through you . “We can figure this out together, Rindo. Just… please take care of yourself.” He nodded, guilt weighing heavily on his heart, but your understanding made it feel a little lighter. It was far from perfect, but the two of you were in it together.

#tokyo revengers #rindou haitani #mikey sano #draken tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #chifuyu matsuno #angst with a happy ending #foryou #for you

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peeponastick · 1 year

Text

Touch My Soul, Pt. 1

Uchiha Itachi x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.6K

Rating: This will be a NSFW 18+ multi-part fic. Part 1 doesn't have any outright explicit content tho. Part 2 here

cw/tw: SPOILERS, mentions of sexual harassment (Hidan is a skeevy perv), emotional turmoil, angst?, sexual tension (but nothing actually happens sorry to edge y’all), major eye contact, like way too much eye contact reader and itachi are basically eye fucking each other 90% of the fic, dramatic asf I can't help myself im sorry

Idk what im doing This is my first time writing and really being on tumblr in general, please let me know if I missed any tags or if you have any advice!!

not canon at all (but SPOILERS!!!!) pls humor me, everyone in the Akatsuki is alive and led by Madara/Tobi

Synopsis: Madara, the elusive figurehead of the Akatsuki, is an ambitious yet paranoid man. That’s why he has you, as a security measure, given your secret jutsu that allows you to see into people’s souls to confirm their true intentions. When Itachi Uchiha shows up to join the Akatsuki, what will you see behind his obsidian eyes?

Exhausted. Another cross-country mission with pain in the ass Hidan was just what the doctor ordered for your repressed rage and depression living in basically a wet cave with the rest of these jerks. You tried your best, you really did, to not let any emotions slip through the cracks of your cold facade. Some of them had better qualities than others, but none of your fellow Akatsuki members were people you felt particularly amiable towards.

Most of them viewed you as Madara’s stone-cold right hand, his own personal weapon. He trusted you more than any other member, and that fact alone was enough to instill a certain kind of fear in the hearts of every other Akatsuki member. And you know what, good. The more you kept your distance, the better.

Though your body ached with fatigue upon returning to headquarters, your senses immediately picked up a foreign energy hanging in the air– a presence. Not ominous per se, but definitely a palpable and strong chakra signature.

Leaving Hidan’s perverted requests to join him for some “one-on-one post-mission relaxation time” behind, you made your way to Madara, the chakra getting stronger the closer you got.

There he was.

Your breath hitched as your eyes set on a statuesque man standing across from Madara, his tousled, raven-black hair draped around his stunning face and strong shoulders. A lifetime of stress and hardship left evidence of weariness across his features, and yet his eyes still sparkled with a fierce softness, framed by a set of beautiful, thick lashes.

He was so... pretty. Your eyes dropped down to his lips, then his chest downward as you began to drink him in, feeling flushed with an unfamiliar warm tingling the longer you studied him.

He glanced at you with his penetrating eyes, your cheeks burned at being caught in your lustful admiration. Without a doubt, it was Itachi Uchiha standing next to Madara, a solemn look spread across his delicate face.

You’d seen him in the bingo book before, but all the talk you had heard didn’t compare to standing in the same room as him. It was intriguing, though, for someone with such a reputation, and clearly such immense power, his energy didn’t feel threatening or overbearing to you.

Madara raised a hand to Itachi, finally pulling your gaze away from him, before walking over to you.

“I’m sure you’ve completed the tasks assigned to you, y/n, correct?” Madara asked rhetorically.

You had never failed him, it was important for you to maintain your position in his eyes. Your usual self would have made a sardonic remark about your disdain for working with Hidan again, how a pet rock would have been just as helpful with none of the sexual harassment. But, with the third party in the room, you simply nodded while maintaining your cold, detached demeanor.

“Good, I have another task for you then,” Madara commanded lowly in his deep, chilling voice, pointing his chin in Itachi’s direction.

“This is y/n,” Madara announced, gesturing in your direction as you followed him towards Itachi.

“She’ll just perform a little security check if you don’t mind, nothing personal. I am interested in your usefulness, but I just like to be sure of who I’m working with, I’m sure you can understand. After all, ‘clan killer’ doesn’t exactly have a trustworthy ring to it, now does it?” Madara taunted.

Itachi’s beautiful, brown eyes glinted with an undetectable emotion before connecting with yours, and again you began feeling the wave of heat washing over you.

What was this?! Some sort of jutsu he was using on you?? No.. my god, had it really been that long since you’d been attracted to someone?

Snapping out of your embarrassing realization about your pitiful sex life, you cleared your throat as you pulled yourself together to perform your special jutsu. Your specialty was energy and emotions– detecting, reading, transmuting. This made you very handy to Madara, after all, knowing what’s inside someone’s soul makes it much easier to manipulate them and offer them what they want to hear, in exchange for whatever Madara wants or needs.

Your secret jutsu was something you dreaded performing. You were incredibly sensitive and receptive to energy, so oftentimes it would leave you completely drained and horrified— seeing all of the vile things people have done, let happen to others, things people buried and hid deep within themselves. It was a lot to witness and take in, and have to maintain your icy demeanor on top of that, lest Madara begin to question you.

After weaving the hand signs, you hid the nerves buzzing in your body as you approached Itachi to place your hands on either side of his lean, muscular shoulders and touch your forehead to his. By the power of your jutsu, you were transported into Itachi’s soulscape, where you’d be able to confirm for Madara upon exiting, Itachi’s true intentions and trustworthiness as an Akatsuki member.

Given what you had heard about Itachi, you braced yourself upon entering his soulscape, but were totally unprepared for what you saw.

Time stopped as you and Itachi stood under an endless blue sky painted with magnificent rolling waves of white clouds. The sound of rushing water caught your attention as you looked behind you to notice you were standing several paces away from the edge of a breathtaking waterfall. The cascading water plummeted down the carved earth into pools of emerald green.

Peace. You felt peace standing in this supposed monster’s soul? Itachi stood silent, his eyes intensely watching you as you began to take in more of your surroundings. You’d never seen or felt anything like this, this energy was so.. pure.

Taking a moment to gather all the information flooding your senses, you turned to look at Itachi as tears pricked your eyes. Your heart broke as you began to fully understand and feel the weight of what he’d been through– what he’d been forced to do, and how much of a monster he believed he was because of it. You felt a gut-wrenching familiarity that ignited an inferno in your own soul, pulling you to him like a magnet and calling you to embrace him and never let go.

“Itachi, I-” you moved close to him, your mind racing as you tried to process the truth, “I’m so sorry, for everything you’ve been through.” You delicately placed a hand on his cheek while looking deep into his gorgeous eyes. His demeanor softened as the emotions overcame the both of you.

“Y-You know?” he hesitantly asked, almost too scared to believe you were seeing the real him and not judging or looking at him with disgust.

Your brows twinged with sadness as you nodded, “Everything,” you replied, tears streaming down your pink cheeks.

He placed his large, warm palm over your hand as he searched your eyes for confirmation that this was really real and happening to him. He had always been expected to take on insurmountable tasks, things that made him question morality itself, all alone.

And yet, here you were, seeing him, understanding him, accepting him for who he truly was and not what he had done. The burden of his past finally being shared by an open heart, something he never could’ve imagined he deserved.

You reassured his fears without words, both of you lost in each other’s all-consuming gaze. You had never met before, and yet it felt like your souls had known each other many lifetimes.

You were standing so close to him, the heat of his flushed skin radiated his intoxicating scent, smelling of old-growth forest and clean musk. Every nerve and fiber of your being was lit aflame as his eyes dropped down to your plump lips. His soulful eyes returned to yours as he moved his other hand to gently push a strand of your silky hair out of your face.

You were entranced by his beauty, slowly blinking as you held eye contact with him, fighting every urge to taste his lips that were mere inches away. He equally was mesmerized by your beauty, his eyes scanned all of your features, trying to take you all in and understand what this all meant, how you came to be the you standing here holding him.

“Who are you?” his deep, gravelly voice purred, a gentle smile lighting up his face.

Panic overtook you as reality came crashing down, remembering that Madara was waiting in the real world for your answer. Though time operated much differently in your jutsu, Madara would certainly become suspicious if things took too long.

You placed your hands on either side of Itachi’s face as you held him close, a frantic look in your eyes.

“We’re out of time. Come to my room tonight, I’ll explain everything.” You hurriedly released the jutsu, and collected yourself so you could resume your emotionless facade so as to not draw suspicion.

You turned to face Madara, immediately detecting his impatience, “He passed,” you confirmed, “Sorry for the delay, there was.. a lot there.”

Madara stood silent for a moment before releasing a booming laugh, “Yes, I suppose given our Itachi’s history there would be quite a lot to sift through, y/n.”

He turned to walk past Itachi and beckoned him to follow as he began to discuss his plans for the Akatsuki and, eventually, the world. You stood frozen, body still processing all of the huge waves of emotions you’d experienced in your jutsu. A pit of anxiety began to form deep in your stomach knowing this fated meeting with Itachi meant it was finally time to begin your plan. To take down Madara and the Akatsuki from within.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If you read this far, thank you so much I appreciate you!! I hope you liked my first fic ♡ᵎᵎᵎ

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mewpangxin · 1 year

Text

♥️The Queen Of Hearts♥️

TW: Yandere, Manipulation, Graphics Of Violence, Deaths mentioned, Adult themes maybe?, Toxic relationship, Victim Blaming, Psychological horror, etc.

Note: I'd like to say that my Mc is not cheerful, there's a hint of them being bullied in this.

(It's probably obvious TT that English is my second language, hopefully my grammar is okay!)

“Are you ready to begin, my darling?”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

—ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A CURIOUS LITTLE THING, sometimes bolder than normal.

You were admired in a universe which titles 'Wonderland' and met many strange customs in it.

How astonishing to be exploring and talking in fantastical stories! That was until you caught the attention of the monarch himself.

He finds your existence.. peculiar.

“Oh, and who is this lost dear?” His tone has no bite as his gray eyes dilated innocently at you.

Surprisingly, he didn't berate you when you came out mysteriously by an opening portal created by someone's power at his tea parties and being the oh pure soul you were, you asked him upfront whether he would be okay if you’d like to be friends with him. How (ignorant) brave of you.

“Your majesty, forgive them! They didn't know any better about their etiquette and manners!” The advisor of the queen with a clover mark stated.

“Trey, don't. We should hear.. how our queen is going to handle this.” The orange head muttered, his expression was unreadable.

“..That moron is a goner. Sheesh.” The red haired boy chimed in with sympathy.

“They're not dying! Don't be weird, Ace!” His partner who was serving drinks nagged at him.

“The heck are you on, Deuce?!”

“Eh....??” Your lips thinned with anxiety.

Everyone stopped what they were doing almost comically as they prayed at the demise of yours.

What they didn't expect was that a vehement burst of giggles escaped their leader himself.

The attractive royal laughed so much!

That he forgot to compose himself!

His subjects were combusting in the background and the wine-haired male regained his senses.

“Are you bothered by this?” You inquired. A rush of memory from reality washed over to you. What if he despises you? What if he thinks you're a freak?

His brow raised as if scanning your horror.

“How terrible of me. As its ruler, I must apologize for a moment. I am Riddle Rosehearts, a queen of this land you stand. What about you, visitor?”

“Erm.. I can't say, uhh you can call me however you wish, sir..” You bowed with a grin, still waiting for his response. Unlike other 'Alices' he knew, you took your time to remember *ahem* his rules.

You both hit it off and exchanged whimsical ideas on hobbies, traditions and silly stuff that you can chat with. You became enthusiastic when you informed him about your goals, your parents and adventures that you'd often go to. He seemed peaceful and even gave you his tarts too!

“Of course, history from your country is baffling. Then again, our state isn't the same, is it?”

“Mmh, ah, your majesty! Can you teach me how I must conduct my speech in your presence? Are there any books you would recommend to me? I'm a slow learner! I don't want to be rude to you. You have been hospitable. I should repay you.”

“It appears you have problems at your school? Is it affecting your performance during classes?”

Riddle's words may be sweet like sugar and cakes but his intentions weren't out of generosity.

In it there hides a tension that you weren't able to decipher as you nodded obediently, too absorbed with your conversation to comment on his overly protective behavior about your life.

“I just feel like I don't belong there, can't I be with you for an eternity? I could work for you!” It was lighthearted and you were jesting to him.

Riddle distastefully clicked his tongue.

“You dared to farce around with ME.....?!”

You don't mean a word you apprised!

“Your majesty? What.. are you..?”

“Rule 154 # Of The Queen Of Hearts: One must not cancel a request from her majesty.”

“What?! Hold on.. I didn't agree to anything-”

“Or are you deaf in what I'm saying? I'm The Queen Of Hearts and I hereby announce that you will be my-bride-to-be! My words are law!” You weren't that stupid, putting two and two together.

“How..! That's a dictatorship!” Your mouth moved.

“When have I said I was a nice queen?”

His smirk was frigid and it looked more noxious than previous rounds he sent. “I have the impression that you promised to be with me by your own free will. You are not going back on that one pact you spoke of, are you, my crown?”

“Listen! Please, please..! I can't marry you, your majesty! I.. I can't be! That is..” Insane.

“You should beg more then.” He scoffed. No longer upholding his kind image that he feigned.

“That's..! No.. no..! Surely, you're joking!!”

“You can't leave, not unless you can kill me. You don't have the legendary sword either, do you?”

He had eradicated White Queen's goons already.

“The blade that is for slaying Jabberwocky?” Mad Hatter had explained to you of its origins.

“You don't need it.” Riddle remarked venomously.

“You destroyed it....?” You wondered.

That damned weapon he had placed a curse on it with ancient spells that only he can revert.

And? What if you're a destined hero? He will ABSOLUTELY have his happily ever after!

“I could never hurt anyone for..” Your shoulders sagged as your inner panic grew by seconds.

Riddle's expression was cruel as he analyzed.

“Our tale fancies you a lot. Alas —what can it do if you are tender-hearted with your enemies?”

“T-There are other ways to go back to my world!”

And you were correct on that. Riddle remained stoic as he took a sip of his herbal tea tardily.

He brought his cup of liquid onto his saucer.

“Yes. That is if you're competent for it.” He sighed as he finished his sentences. “So? Are you going to challenge me into a duel? A game? Which is it?”

“A duel? A game? With.. you who is a wizard?” He deliberately chose his lines to rile you up.

You weren't going to win if you were hasty.

“I'm not a savage. I allow you to take options. And you did nothing. Can you blame me?”

You would be ethereal if you were to sit on the throne with him. And it was a good opportunity that you were simply gullible. If you were smart, he'd have to break you than what he wanted.

“You..!”

A single drop of tear slid from your hazy eyes.

“I thought.. I thought we were confidants!”

“Throwing tantrums won't make me negate my resolve. It's your fault for being this credulous.”

“Fine.. I'll do it. Let's fight. I'll pick what we WILL do next, you can't cheat or turn to your allies! Most importantly, you can't use magic at all.” You have to set a covenant up, or else he could be sneaky.

“Alright, I will not do that.”

He wasn't a scummy type of man anyway.

“You promise on the sun above us?” You said.

“Yes, I do. If I cannot be faithful, I'll let you have a clue or a hint to help you back to your family.”

“Are you lulling me into false securities?”

“What are you ascribing of me?”

“So you are not?”

“You're getting off track. Shall we start?”

It was quite hilarious that you think you can weasel out of his grasp. You weren't great at these things. It was inevitable for you to end up embarrassing yourself when he's done with you. Should he kiss you? Dress you in a wedding gown? Ah, he's going to prolong your downfall, your face would be adorable to inspect when you realized you could not beat him no matter how hard you initiated.

“I hope you're not a liar, your majesty.” You said vigorously as you eyed him with skepticism.

“If you can defeat me in our bet, I'll tell you the answer you'd be glad to get. However should you fail to do this, you'll become my King Of Hearts as per our unanimity. Do you understand me, Alice?”

Your blood veins turn icy as his threat hangs.

Losing your role will mark your doom.

If you became his significant other..

You will get stuck here!

“You're.. crazy!!” You inhaled a shaky breath.

“That's excursive. Have you decided yet? What will you choose? Croquet? Hide and seek? Whatever you're confident in, I'll approve you a chance.”

❝ Now speak to us your verdict. ❞

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

You should have seen the warning signs because ol' sweetheart, he's not going to let you run!

He's dead set on having you as his spouse in his kingdom. My, you think he's a rational companion, isn't it? You really are pitiful aren't you, our reader?

Never trust what strangers say!

Especially if it's from The Queen Of Hearts!

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Inspired from damnation twst au by @shiny-jr

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carpetbug · 4 months

Text

La Llorona (3.2k)

read below or on ao3 • [tw: attempted drowning]

“It was true that he didn’t remember when he learned to swim, but he did remember his mother teaching him. That was a big part of why he was quickly getting tired of the topic matter at hand.”

“I don’t really remember when I learned how to swim,” Adrien shrugged, chin resting on his right hand as he passed the few remaining minutes of class conversing with his friends. Alya’s face turned down into a playful frown at his response, clearly unsatisfied with such a weak answer. Marinette watched the conversation in amusement while mindlessly chewing on a pencil—one already covered in teeth marks. They had all already told their own stories: Nino had been a natural swimmer, Marinette had to take a few years of swimming lessons, and Alya had told some kind of story about almost drowning at a water park with her older sister. Adrien hadn’t been able to follow that one very well.

“You can’t even remember bits and pieces?” she prompted. He felt like he was in some weird interview.

“Maybe you were just born knowing how to do everything, huh?” Nino teased from beside him before poking him with an elbow. He had started the conversation in the first place by mentioning how his little brother Chris had just started swimming lessons. Apparently, Chris was not enjoying them.

Adrien shrugged again, not entirely wanting to try and muster up bygone memories. “Oh, I don’t know, I must have learned at the hotel's pool with Chloe,” he awkwardly explained, trying to string together a story his friends would believe. When he really tried to remember, all he could see was fragmented pictures of his maman in her swimsuit, arms outstretched in a shallow pool that lapped around her waist. He could smell, slightly taste, the chlorine. It was true that he didn’t remember when he learned to swim, but he did remember his mother teaching him. That was a big part of why he was quickly getting tired of the topic matter at hand.

“Ugh, understood. If I had grown up being best friends with that girl I would also try to forget it,” Nino joked, making Alya and Marinette laugh. Adrien copied the sound—he had given up trying to justify Chloe’s place in his life, and even he wasn’t entirely sure she belonged there anymore—but the laugh he let out wasn’t nearly convincing enough.

Three pairs of eyes were immediately on him, stunning him into silence. It was like he had failed some invisible test.

The quiet held for a second too long before they started blurting apologies.

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that, I know Chloe’s your friend and—”

“Yeah we didn’t mean to laugh, Adrien, we weren’t thinking.”

Marinette opened her mouth to begin her explanation when Adrien anxiously shut them down. “Guys, guys, it’s okay! I know you guys don’t like Chloe, but I also know you guys respect our friendship. It’s fine, really,” he assured them, squeezing Ninos shoulder comfortingly as he talked. “Anyways—,” he was desperate to get the attention off him “Why is Chris hating swim lessons?”

Nino laughed and began flapping his hands excitedly in the air, the previous tension quickly forgotten. “You’re never going to believe this, he’s scared of ‘La Llorona’.”

“‘The crying woman’? Isn’t she some kind of, like, Mexican folklore story to scare little kids?” Alya questioned, leaning towards her boyfriend enthusiastically.

“That’s exactly what I said! I was like ‘Chris, bro, we live in Paris. She’s all the way in Mexico, busy doing ghost things, no way she’s going to get you.’ But he’s convinced she’s out to find him! I don’t even know where he learned about it,” Nino recounted, laughing as he went. Maybe it was kinda childish to be scared of a ghost in a distant country; but in Chris’s defense, Adrien also felt uneasy about ghosts.

The idea of being haunted made his skin crawl.

“I’ve never heard of her. What’s the folklore?” he asked curiously, interest piqued.

“It’s actually kind of a gruesome story,” Marinette spoke up, but quickly looked like she regretted it as eyes turned to her. She looked down at her hands and fidgeted with the chewed pencil as she continued. “There’s a lot of different versions, but the most common one is a woman fell in love with a wealthy man, had his children, caught him cheating, and drowned their kids out of rage. Then she regretted it and drowned herself out of guilt, leaving her weeping ghost to haunt rivers and streams, crying out for her children. It’s usually used to keep kids away from bodies of water, especially at night. Supposedly if you hear her sobs, she’ll find you, then drown you when she realizes you aren’t her child.” Marinette shivered with the final sentence, clearly recalling something. She combed her fingers through a pigtail and let out a tense giggle. “My grandma goes on trips all over the world. She went to Mexico when I was in kindergarten, then decided to tell me that story when she got back. I was scared of the seine for months, so I can’t really blame Chris.”

“Your parents must have been mad.” Alya smirked.

“My mom definitely was! She was convinced I would never get over it, and I’d have a fear of water all my life. I forgot about it when summer came around and I got to go to the pool.” The girls were talking now, carried away with their own conversation.

Adrien didn’t mind. He was busy mulling over the new story.

“—rien? Adrien!” Nino shook him hard, eyeing him up and down like his friend had done something suspicious. It felt almost invasive, and made Adrien squirm in his seat. “Dude, you’re out of it. What are you thinking about?”

He stopped, and thought for a moment. Then the words got the better of him and before he could stop it the question spilled out. “Do you think she loved them?” Adrien asked, eyes locked with Nino’s.

“Who? The—La Llorona? I mean, I guess she loved her kids. All parents do, right?”

“No, I mean—I mean do you think she did it because she loved them?”

Adrien’s attention turned to the phone in his hand, a notification lighting up his lockscreen. It usually rotated through different pictures he had picked out, but right now it was settled on one of him and his mother. “Do you think she drowned them because she loved them, maybe just too much?”

Before Nino could respond, the bell rang out. Class was over, Adrien needed to go home, and Nino had to take Chris to his swim lesson.

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Maman looked so pretty in the pool. The way her hair shined in the sun, and the corners of her mouth wrinkled when she smiled. The clear, bright blue water that stopped at her knees. The thin silver band on her left ring finger reflected the sun brightly, as did the silver feather earrings dangling from her ears. She always wore jewelry. Her green eyes reminded him of the grass that grew beside water in the books she’d read him. It made him happy to have the same green eyes.

Adrien was four years old, right at the age where he was blathering out any words he could, and consciously exploring all the different sensations that came with being alive. But today he had a swimming lesson, which meant listening to his mother.

Emilie stood, merely a foot away on the second step, cooing and trying to coax her living ball of sunshine to dip a foot in the pool. “Adrien, darling, I promise the pool won’t hurt you,” she assured, leaning over and slipping a few fingers into his palm to grasp. He did so tightly, then slowly stepped down onto the first step into the pool. It was cool, almost ticklish, against his skin and thankfully only rose to his shins at this height.

“See!” she smiled, almost purring the words. She pulled her fingers from his grasp, lowered to the bottom step, and splashed the summer water towards her little student. He giggled and shielded his face, though the splash only reached his stomach. “Next step, now.”

Adrien’s laugh caught in his throat. The next step was deep, too deep, but… she was standing right there, lip-glossed smile beaming at him.

She wouldn’t make him go too deep. Maman was safe.

He stepped forward cautiously, missing the tight grip he had on her hand just before, and slowly found his footing. The water now pooled just above his hips, the sloshing waves from their movement gently pulling him this way and that. His arms hovered above the water's surface at his sides, refusing to fall victim to the pool just yet.

“You’re a natural, little minnow!” Emilie cheered, then sucked in her cheeks and pursed her lips to make a kissy face, trying to imitate a fish. Only she looked more like she had bitten into a much too sour lemon, which made Adrien laugh again, even harder this time. His arms dropped slightly and an elbow dipped into the water, making him squeal suddenly.

“It’s cold, Maman!” he whimpered, wanting to retreat back to the shaded table where their towels and pool supplies resided while they swam. Adrien’s gaze was locked over his shoulder on the dry, warm spot a few feet away when Emilie snapped her fingers to get his attention again.

It worked immediately.

“Darling, it’s the perfect temperature. Don’t let the water scare you,” she comforted him, reaching out again to offer a hand to hold. Adrien’s smaller hand took it urgently. “Last step.”

If the previous step had come anywhere close to scary, the last step was utterly daunting. Plunging one foot further into the depths of the water, the surface rose up to his chin. When he tried to lift his other foot it felt rooted to the concrete stair that held him above the water, and he couldn’t find the strength to rip off the bandaid. Thankfully, Emilie had strength to spare for her minnow, and using her free hand she hooked two fingers around his ankle, then sternly pulled it to the final step.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she cooed in her sing-songy voice, hands receding from the young boys’ space again before pushing at the bottom of his chin. His mouth opened to protest but she tilted his head back, letting his golden hair fall and soak up the chlorine-rich water..

Now the water lapped at the edges of his face as he stood, tiptoed, and tilted back. He looked up towards the sky, closing his eyes to block out the harsh sun, and urgently trying not to panic over the water sloshing in his ears. His arms floated in the water at his sides, and he was too aware of the open space where nothing could be grabbed onto. Adrien could hardly hear Emilie, if she was singing her praises at all, but if it was because of his submerged ears or his racing heart he couldn’t tell. After a few seconds—a few too many for small Adrien—she plucked him from the step and placed him on her hip, giving him a moment to rub the water from his hair and ears.

“Wonderful, mon bébé!” She was laughing as she whirled him through the pool, hands tucked under his armpits as they spun in excited circles. “Was that so bad?”

Adrien waited until they stilled to respond. “My ears went under the water,” he muttered, trying to balance in her grasp and holding onto her shoulders. “My eyes were closed, too. I was scared.”

Emilie pouted, maybe trying to give him a sympathetic frown, but it only made him feel smaller. It was the kind of look that a passersby gave a baby throwing a tantrum. “You’re okay,” she assured gently, holding him against her chest and lifting a hand from the water to push a wet strand of golden hair from his forehead. He leaned into the touch of her palm. “When you’re with Maman or Père, you’re always okay.” Their eyes locked and Emilie’s smile dropped. Her left thumb slowly grazed over her ring when she continued. “You know that, right, little minnow?”

The words spilled out before he even knew what he was going to say. “Yes, Maman.”

Yes, he was okay so long as Maman and Papa were there. Mother and Father would always keep him safe.

“Wonderful, darling. Now, let’s try doggy paddling.”

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It had been a grueling hour in the pool, consisting mainly of Adrien clinging either to his mother’s shoulders or the wall of the pool. The doggy paddling had been too scary, treading water was too exhausting, and floating on his back was too overwhelming.

Worst of all, Emilie was starting to get angry. She had even screamed at him when he tried clambering out of the pool.

Adrien hated making Maman angry. Her eyebrows would twitch when she furrowed them together, and she often brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. It made him feel stupid, and wrong, like he had broken some rule. Sometimes—though Adrien wouldn’t admit it for many years to come—it made him angry too. Angry enough to want to rip piano keys out of their places. Angry enough to want to destroy things with a single touch.

Angry enough to try and climb out of the pool during a swimming lesson. Which was, of course, unacceptable.

“Honestly, Adrien, you’re behaving like a brat! Are you stupid?” She snapped, top lip pulled back in a snarl, letting her canines shine in the sun. Adrien could feel them closing in on him. Even at her worst, he only wanted her to hold him close. It never really mattered if he was alive or dead when she did it—he just wished she wouldn’t yell.

“I’m scared, M-Maman!” He hiccuped, clinging desperately to the roughly textured wall. It stung the pruning skin of his fingers, threatening to cut his raw fingertips. Adrien didn't notice over his own sobs and wracked breathing.

“Stop crying already!” Emilie lunged forward to rip her son from the wall, ignoring his wails of refusal. He urgently grabbed for the wall as she carried him towards the middle of the water, muttering under her breath. The only things Adrien could pick up was ‘useless fucking kid’ and ‘made you to be better than this’.

The words didn’t fully register in his panic-stricken brain. The only thing he knew for certain was real in that moment was the steady stream of warm tears pouring from his eyes. Until Maman reached out, palm cupping his tear stained cheek, and gently wiped at the droplets clinging to his eyelashes. Adrien’s eyes opened and took her in, eyes half-lidded and eyebrows pressed together. She was as comforting as she was terrifying, which was an intense combination of emotions for four year old Adrien.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again. There’s nothing to be scared of,” she said intensely.

It made the tears stop and hiccups pause—it even took some of his breath away. Adrien’s mother was like a being of pure emotion, raw and untethered, changing at the snap of her fingers. Emilie could play people like a violin, and this was her philosophy when it came to maternal matters.

“Nothing to be scared of,” he whispered in repetition, eyes still glued to hers. His muscles relaxed, and he softened into his mothers hold. Truthfully, Adrien always thought it was much more comfortable once he stopped fighting.

Emilie smiled and nodded, then turned to look at the empty pool around them. Her hair was still radiant in the sun, but now the ends had gotten soggy and knotted as they dipped in and out of the water.

“M-Maman, can we stop now?” Adrien asked softly, unable to stop the trembling pout his lips formed. “Please?”

She blinked. Swallowed, then clicked her tongue against her teeth. It was a nauseating sound. “Only if you can swim, little minnow.” His body froze when her eyes targeted back onto him, his stomach turning when he saw her gaping smile. “Show me how you swim.”

In the blink of an eye, Adrien was forced under the surface, water overtaking his mouth and nose before he even thought to close or cover them. It stung, like a wasp had crawled through his throat and made a nest in his lungs, infesting him from the inside out. He gasped for air, desperate to cool the burning taking hold of his chest, but only inhaled water.

He was screaming, crying, violently thrashing in the water as he tried to breach the surface. The sounds only left his mouth in muted air bubbles, floating past his vision to the surface his body screamed for. But it was useless against the tightly gripped hand around his throat.

Maybe Maman just couldn’t hear him when he was so deep under the water. Maman wouldn’t mean to hurt him.

The water churned against his limbs, thwarting his efforts to kick and paddle back to air. He was quickly losing hope that there was any kind of escape. This is what baby birds who fall from their nest too early must feel like. Weak, defenseless, kicking and screaming and fighting to stay alive in a terrain that only wants them dead.

At least those birds can breathe.

Adrien stopped fighting when fatigue overtook him. His legs went limp and arms crossed his torso, enveloping himself in a tight hug under the water. There was some comfort to be found in that, even in the worst situations. He let the water envelop him, too tired to continue. His muscles eased, repeating the lesson he’d learned just before. Pain and terror are so much more comfortable once you stop trying to fight them.

His eyes closed. His body stopped screaming.

Then it was over.

Fresh air swarmed his lungs, bringing up the chlorinated water he’d swallowed. It tasted like stomach acid and summer.

“My poor little minnow,” Emilie murmured as she sat him on the wall of the pool. He coughed and gagged as she slowly rubbed his back, occasionally raising her hand to pet his soaked, ruffled hair. Her voice—usually spilling over with emotion—was monotone and brief, like she was stating a fact. There was no comfort in her words, only recognition that he was suffering. No apology, no explanation. No loving coos and empty promises of safety. Only a mother and her son.

“I-I couldn’t breathe, why Ma—” he sputtered, coughing and stumbling over the words.

She cut him short.“I already said, Adrien. No more squalling.”

He was quiet. His lungs still ached and his throat felt like it was burning, but his lips remained sealed. Any screams or cries were trapped out of his reach.

“You’re okay, aren’t you? No blood, no bruises. Good as new.” She beamed at him. “Nothing bad happened, darling. Let’s get you toweled off and head inside for lunch. You can learn to swim tomorrow.”

Emilie swam through the pool, leaving Adrien sitting on the edge. He watched her silently as she ascended the steps out of the water and made her way to him, then plucked him from the ground like a feather. He usually loved when Maman would carry him around on her hip. This time he felt like a prisoner of sorts, anchored to her side while his own emotions, thoughts, and wants were cast aside to cater to his warden.

“Yes, Maman.”

#carpetbug writes #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #emilie #la llorona fic #one shot #ml fic #spits this at you and runs away like a scared lizard #sharing my writing makes me so much more anxious than my art for some reason lmao #anyways. hope yall enjoy

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dreamingofep · 5 months

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 27🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of killing, ANGST, SMUT, mentions of blood/ gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: Hello everyone!! Thank you for your patience! This part has a lot to uncover so get ready! Lots of new back story of Alexander and Iris and new discoveries have been made that you're not going to like...🫣Thanks for continuing to be so enthusiastic about this story!

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

The air felt tense like everyone in here was holding their breath as you and Elvis walked in the room. Elvis tells Jerry to wait outside and he gladly obliges. Iris and Alexander sit next to each other on the long couch and you go to take a seat in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Elvis doesn’t sit down, he stands right beside you and places his hand on your shoulder to try to calm you. You couldn’t completely relax though. You were too anxious to see what these people had to say or if they were even telling the truth.

You look at them expectantly, waiting for them to start the conversation. You direct your first question to Elvis instead.

“Where did you go?” You ask in a hushed tone.

He sighs heavily, seeing how much you’re hurt, and kneels next to you to get closer.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was gone for so long…I went all over the country. I was trying to find anyone who might have a clue where I could find older vampires. Ones that would be more well-versed in such matters we are facing. I ran into dead ends everywhere I went. I went to New York, Louisiana, all the way back to California even but had found nothing. I couldn’t give up though.” He explains.

“I then went to Colorado, one of the final places I decided to stop at. I met one of my buddies I know out there, he’s also one of us. I told him what I was looking for and how I wasn’t having any luck. He knew about some old vampires that lived in the mountains, far away from any town, and were essentially recluses.” He chuckles looking at Iris and Alexander snarkily. They throw daggers back at him and stay silent.

“It wasn’t easy finding them. It took me hours to get through the mountains and get past the traps they have set up for wandering hikers,” he quips.

“Yes that’s the whole point of living out of reach of people, so no one can find us,” Alexander grumbles.

Elvis has a smile on his face and continues to speak, “Well, their traps weren’t that effective since I’m in one piece. But they did not like trespassers, they tried to hurt me and get me off their property,” he snickers. You didn’t laugh though. Every hair on your body felt like it stood up and your blood boiled. The very idea of anyone trying to hurt him made you angry beyond comprehension. You hate the idea of anyone hurting Elvis or even laying a finger on him.

You grip the arm of the chair tightly, your anger getting the best of you.

“Did either of you lay a finger on him?” You say through your teeth. They shift uncomfortably in their seats as they look at each other. They clear their throats and take a deep breath before speaking.

“Well, y/n, you have to understand, we don’t like intruders coming near us. We didn’t know who he was-,” Iris starts to explain but you don’t let her finish, your anger getting the best of you.

“What the hell are you even talking about?! He’s Elvis Presley! The most famous man on the planet!” You snap. Elvis puts his hand on yours, squeezing it lightly.

“Honey, they’re telling the truth. They had no idea who I was before telling them. They don’t own a single TV or a radio,” Elvis tells you.

You’re absolutely shocked. You had never heard of anyone before such a recluse they don’t know who Elvis is. Even his name is eye-catching and different, you can’t believe the name doesn’t even ring a bell for them.

You try to relax a bit and focus on Elvis to calm you down.

“What did you do to convince them?” You ask.

“I tried to talk to them at a distance, try to explain our situation. Nothing really convinced them til they saw my eyes. They trusted me a bit more after that. The harder part was getting them to leave with me. They aren’t exactly adventurous…” he says slyly. That earned Elvis another death glare from the both of them. You throw them the same look and they get the message.

“So do you believe us? Are you going to help us or continue to be difficult,” you question. You knew it sounded harsh, but you weren’t going to have these people in your house if they weren’t going to help you two figure out some things about your new vampire lives.

They take a deep breath before speaking and look at you both.

“Yes, we believe you. The way you protect Elvis is a huge indication that you have a bond. We just haven’t met anyone like us in a very long time,” Alexander says gently.

Considering how they are so isolated, you aren’t too surprised they haven’t been in contact with any other vampires. Let alone any other bonded ones.

You relax a bit, trying to give these people a chance and not get too upset.

“How old are you both then? When was the last time you met someone like us?” You ask.

They smile at each other and hold each other’s hands.

Iris speaks first, “I’m meant to look twenty years old but in reality, I’ve been on this earth for seven hundred and fifty years. I’m originally from Spain where my family was royalty and very powerful. I’ve only met another Chosen pair twice in my life. We are extremely rare you see,” she says directing her attention to Alexander to start talking too.

“I’m the same age too. I’m from France though. Our regions had religious tensions in these times and I was a knight fighting for my country. I was a young man then, only nineteen at the time. But I saw her face in the grand throne room and I never was the same after seeing her,” he says sweetly looking at Iris.

“Did you know she was meant to be with you? Did you feel the connection?” You ask him inquisitively.

He chuckles softly at you, “I wouldn’t know. I was just a human then. I just thought she was distractingly beautiful,” he explains.

You look back at Iris with a smug smile on her face. You don’t know why you assumed he was a vampire first but you kind of feel embarrassed for jumping to conclusions.

“Oh, I’m sorry for assuming things. How were you turned then, Iris? Did you feel the connection with him?” You ask.

“I was turned when I was on my death bed, a lot like how Elvis was from how he explained it to us. It was common at that time to catch smallpox and there was no cure. It was brutal and anyone near you would undoubtedly catch it. I didn’t want to die. I begged my mother and father to do anything. Hire someone that could cure me,” she tells you.

“At this time, it was looked down upon to go against the church's beliefs or practices. Dark magic was shunned by anyone in the country but it was still being heavily practiced. I heard from many people that there were people on the outskirts of town that would practice it and they could cure anyone that came to them. I begged my parents to get one of them to help me. I felt death closing in on me with every breath. As much as they hated the idea, they didn’t want me to die. I was engaged to a prince in England and there was too much to be lost if I suddenly passed away. They were willing to risk the chance of someone finding out that dark magic was being practiced in the palace walls.”

You were shocked by her story. She was royalty at one point and no one now knows the true story of what happened to her. All except for you and Elvis now.

Iris continues, “They found a healer and snuck him into the palace late at night. I was getting weaker by the second and barely remembered how it happened… but I remember him asking to save me. I remember how cold he was. He felt like ice to me but I thought it was because I was so weak. He leaned in close and told me he’d give me a gift, one that would let me live forever. I thought he was crazy but I permitted him to do what needed to be done to save me. I wasn’t expecting the bite, I was expecting some sort of magic spell or something. It was excruciating as you are aware of, but after the pain of the bite resided, my body felt stronger than ever.”

“He then took me away from the palace, out of the way from harming any humans, and learned how my new abilities worked with the others that lived outside of town. I learned how to control my thirst and how to feed without hurting anyone. I was gone for a month and everyone was worried sick about me. But I eventually returned to the palace and assured everyone I was fine and better than ever. I compelled most of them that I wasn’t gone as long as they remembered to help me get back into normal life.”

You and Elvis were enthralled by her story. Some of her stories paralleled Elvis’ too. They were both so desperate to live. They didn’t know the ramifications of this choice and how it would alter their entire existence. You had so many questions for them, especially how they have been living like this for so long.

“That’s truly incredible. I’m so glad you had guidance from them. What happened after all of that? Did you marry the prince after all?” You ask.

She laughs amused and shakes her head, “Well, almost. I was a few days away from marrying the prince and then he walked into my life. I knew the moment I saw him,” she blushes.

“So did I,” Elvis says softly. You look up at him in awe. It was the first time he said it to you. It was shocking to hear from his lips but it made your heart feel so happy and overjoyed.

“So you know what I’m talking about then. That instant feeling of happiness and the pull to be closer to them,” she explains to both of you. “I had that with Alexander. The second I saw him, I thought he was the most beautiful man to ever exist.”

Alexander squeezes her hand and smiles at her.

“I thought she was beautiful too. Everyone thought she was beautiful so I didn’t think much of it when I wanted to be closer to her. Thought I was just like everyone else,” he chuckles.

“When did you know it was something more?” Elvis asks.

They both look at each other and have this sly look on their faces.

Oh… you remember that moment it became so much more intense between you two.

“Well I�� I invited him to my room to talk to him. His scent lured me even more and I wanted to be extra close to him. It wasn’t until I touched him… and kept touching him that I realized there was so much more here. My body wanted him to please me beyond my wildest dreams…He became my new obsession I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wanted to have him locked in my bedroom at all hours of the day. That was my plan actually, to keep him there til I had my fill and make him forget all of it. But as you know Elvis, you can’t compel them to forget anything,” she says heartily.

They both laugh at the notion and Elvis nods his head in agreement.

“Did you feel similarly with y/n Elvis?” She asks him.

He pauses and looks at you, analyzing your eyes and dragging down to your back and your chest. He takes a slow breath in before speaking.

“Yes, very similar. The pull she had on me from the start… all of that was the same. I tried not to touch her though. I didn’t want to repulse her. I tried to protect her from myself in any way I could. I was so starved I was so afraid I’d hurt her if I tried to take a bite.”

“But what changed…” Alexander asks him.

Elvis shifts uncomfortably and bites the inside of his cheek.

“Well uhh… I got upset at her… for something stupid that was my fault anyway. But something changed in me. The way I needed her…The way I needed her physically… it was so overwhelming,” he admits. He looks over at you longingly but adverts his eyes elsewhere to not be distracted. The more you learn about the first few days with Elvis will never not shock you. You didn’t know what he was feeling or what he wanted. He was smitten by you long before you accepted the truth.

Iris and Alexander exchange looks and nod their head in agreement.

“That’s how it goes. You don’t want to leave their side or anything,” Iris agrees, “I felt the same thing. It only makes it worse if you have them intimately,” she adds. You watch as Elvis squeezes your hand slightly at that comment.

“How did you tell him what you were?” You ask changing the subject.

“Once I realized I couldn’t compel him to forget anything, panic slightly set in. I knew one of our rules was for humans to never find out about our existence. It scared me and I didn’t know what to do. I went to the man who turned me, looking for guidance. I told him the problems I was facing with Alexander. He looked at me like I grew a second head. He knew the second I started to describe the feelings I had for Alexander made him my Chosen. I never heard of what that was. He had met many others like us but for them, it took centuries to meet their Chosen. After wrapping my head around that all, I went to find Alexander and told him the truth, I showed him my fangs and reassured him I wouldn’t hurt him. But I had to explain the bond, the connection we shared was more powerful than anything in this world. He accepted me for who I was and eventually let me feed on him. It seems like we got very lucky that we didn’t need to wait for centuries for each other,” she quips proudly.

Elvis looks at you lovingly, “we are lucky,” he coos.

“How did you tell her Elvis? Were you scared too?” Alexander asks.

Elvis instantly gets uncomfortable, letting go of your hand and standing back up. He fidgets with his rings, not looking at anyone in the eye when he speaks.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell her…” Elvis admits. He looks so uncomfortable telling this to these strangers in his living room.

“She walked in on me feeding off of a girl in my bed,” he admits.

Iris and Alexander exchanged shocked looks. You felt the room grow very quiet and uncomfortable. You didn’t want to relive that moment, it was hard to deal with. Everything changed in that moment. If you had actually listened to him and didn’t go in his bedroom, many things would have turned out differently in this journey… you couldn’t help but wonder the alternatives…

“How could you do that to y/n?” Alexander snaps at Elvis. Elvis shoots him a death glare, it petrifies everyone in the room.

“It’s not like I got any enjoyment out of it, believe me,” he snarls.

“But how could you still do that? You knew that y/n was meant for you and you still fed off of someone like that,” Iris presses.

“I couldn’t admit to her or myself that this sort of thing was real! I thought it was a legend! Something that happened a long time ago but doesn’t happen anymore,” he seethes. He steps away from you, seeing how his emotions are getting the best of him.

“Every time I fed off of someone, all I could think of was how she tasted! How bad I wanted her and only her. So don’t look at me like I'm some kind of ruthless monster. I hated myself for doing it. How I’d have her in my bed only hours ago and try to forget how much I needed her by drowning myself in someone else.”

It felt like your heart stopped. This new confession was shocking, to say the least. Nothing prepared you for the truth of what he might have done when you weren’t with him. His eyes looked sorrowful as he looked at you. It hurt you so much to see him be this way.

“How often would you do that…” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, “Baby please,” he whimpers.

“Just tell me. I can’t go back in the past and change it so it doesn’t matter. I just want to know the truth.” You say firmly.

“One too many times…” he says softly. Not the answer you wanted to hear but it was enough.

“I don’t know if you knew… but you’re not supposed to do that…” Iris says gently.

“Yes I’ve gathered that,” Elvis spats at her coldly.

They were looking at Elvis like he was the most vile creature they’d ever laid eyes upon. You felt your anger bubble up to the surface and snap.

“How about you tell us how to go about feeding instead of sitting there and judging him! He’s not perfect but he’s different now! So much has changed. If you’re going to judge him, you have to judge me too. I was engaged when I met him but didn’t care and let Elvis take me to his bed anyway. You’re in the twentieth century, learn to adapt,” you hiss.

Their faces are shocked by your blunt words. You weren’t going to sit there anymore as they continued to take little jabs at Elvis.

“We’re sorry for saying those things. We apologize for hurting your feelings,” Alexander says somberly.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, “can you tell us how you feed though? There isn’t any guidance in any book for us to follow,” you try to explain calmly.

“Well from what I’ve known and experienced from the different vampires I’ve met, you can feed however suits you but it’s a little different when you’re with your Chosen. As I’m sure you are aware, you only want your partner’s. Nothing is as fulfilling. You still should drink human blood every few weeks to keep your strength up and keep your hunger at bay. It can be from a human you compel but you don’t bite from anywhere but the neck. You don’t feel any need for humans other than their blood. There’s no pull to give them anything else. You make your interaction with them to feed as brief as possible. But the need for each other's blood will never go away, you’ll always be in need of one another. That’s just how your bond works.” She says. She suddenly looks at you inquisitively, analyzing your overall demeanor.

“You haven’t fed in a while. I can tell by the way your heart sounds,” she says matter-of-factly.

You’re annoyed you can’t hide anything from any vampire.

“I know. I couldn’t feed when Elvis was away. I was too nervous and didn’t have an appetite for anything,” you say defeated. She nods her head, understanding how you feel. She then looks over at Elvis too, giving him the same analysis.

“You haven’t fed either. You’re starving for her,” she tells him.

You watch as Elvis swallows harshly when he looks over at you.

“Yes of course. We’ve just been a little busy and haven’t had the time to,” he says uncomfortably. Alexander and Iris exchange panicked looks. You don’t understand why they look shocked. Elvis was saying the truth about it all.

“You haven’t fed from each other… at all?” Alexander asks. “Why aren’t you taking care of your wife?” He says looking at Elvis with disgust.��

Oh no. Not good.

You stand up and step in front of Elvis and push at his chest as he looks at them with a deadly look in his eye.

“You do not get to accuse me of not taking care of my wife!” he barks over your head. “You better fucking watch it,” he growls.

“You left her unprotected and starved! Your only job for the rest of your life is to provide for her! You haven’t done that for her in this new life of hers,” he snarls at him.

“Enough! Both of you!” You snap. They both have the same reaction and look down at the floor listening to your command.

“Stop this! Stop accusing him of being a terrible man, Alexander. You know nothing about him. I have drank blood! It’s not like I’m on the brink of death. I’ve just drank from blood bags… why is this a big deal?” You ask growing increasingly anxious and frustrated.

“Well,” Iris begins to say nervously, “That’s the final step of your change, it’s to drink each other's blood, securing the bond for life. What you drank out of him while you were still human wasn’t enough. You have to be fully changed and then drink his blood to secure your bond to him.” She explains.

You feel like you just got punched in the gut. It made you feel sick that you weren’t technically bonded with him. If you hadn’t started fighting with him, you wouldn’t be facing this dilemma. Another bomb hits you in the chest as you're sitting there worried out of your mind…

You can’t feel Elvis’ emotions like you did the first day you were changed. You can hardly feel anything. You go to sit down again, needing to calm down and get a grasp on this information. Elvis grabs onto your hand and you look up at him. You expect to feel the worry roll off of him but you don’t feel much at all. It scared you half to death.

“I can’t feel you… I can’t feel anything you’re feeling like I did before… it’s so faint.” You say scared. You look back at Alexander’s and Iris’ nervous faces.

“Yeah… that’s what can happen…” she says low. “You need to bite each other and it’ll be okay. The longer you wait, the harder it is to restore your bond. You could have easily been able to be compelled by another vampire while Elvis was gone,” she says regretfully.

Alexander nods in agreement, “that’s why we don’t like to be away from each other. You made to protect your other half. It feels physically ailing to be away for long,” he says gently.

It made so much sense why you felt so lost and empty when he left. The other half of you was being ripped out of you.

“When were you turned y/n?” Iris asks.

“May 17th,” you inform. She gives you both another wide-eyed look.

“And that was the last time you drank from each other? That’s so long ago…” she says confused.

“Well, I didn’t wake up for eight days after his bite,” you start to explain.

“Eight days? That shouldn’t be possible…I don’t understand…” Iris says lost in thought. “The only way for the change to be interrupted was if someone else bit you but that can be possible…”

You feel your mouth turn dry at the memory. It feels like so long ago but it wasn’t. The last memory of Raphael biting you was excruciating and the most pain you’ve ever felt. You would always hate him even in death that he did that to you.

“I was bitten by someone else,” you squeak out. They stare motionless on the couch, looking at both you and Elvis in shock.

You hear a growl form deep in Elvis’ chest at the memory.

“Who?” They ask in unison.

“The man that bit me, Raphael, abducted her and fed off of her, multiple times. He almost killed her along with her ex-fiancé,” Elvis seethes.

Iris turns her attention to you to speak, “How many times did he bite you? Where did he bite?” She asks a little frantic.

Your head feels a bit lightheaded and you have to take a few deep breaths before speaking.

“Everywhere. His bite hurt so much. He bit deep and tore my skin so badly. I had ugly scars everywhere,” you tremble at the memory. You instinctively remember where he bit you. You had to look at those marks every day and shield them from Elvis in any way you could for months. You raise your hand up to your chest, feeling the phantom pain of where those bites were.

You freeze.

You had to be delirious with thirst or so in shock with all this new information that you could swear you feel the raised scar of the bite mark. You pull down the collar of your shirt and gasp.

A prominent scar, a bite mark was red on your chest, the exact place where Raphael bit you.

You look at Elvis horrified, you have no idea when this got here but it looks just like it did when you came back from the hospital. Elvis stares angry daggers at the scar as his breathing becomes ragged.

“How long has that been there,” Elvis hisses.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I haven’t noticed it,” you say dazed thinking to remember if you noticed anything weird before. He moves your hair to expose your neck and growls loudly.

“What does this mean!” Elvis snaps at Alexander and Iris. You raise your hand to cover your neck and feel the raised scar there too. You want to cry, this was all too much.

They can’t look him in the eye, his anger was so palpable and coming off of him in heaps. It felt like it was choking you.

“We don’t know exactly. I know for a fact that no one is supposed to feed from another person’s Chosen. That is heresy and that person would be killed for their actions. No one is even supposed to touch her except you,” she explains to Elvis. She cautiously stands up and lowers her gaze.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look at your wife’s scars? I won’t touch her I swear,” she says timidly.

“Fine,” he grumbles through his teeth.

Iris makes her way to you and kneels in front of you to get a better look at the marks. You hear her suck in a sharp breath as she inspects them. You pull your shirt down to show her that mark too. She looks at you with sorrow in her eyes.

“These bites… I don’t know how you survived them while you were human. These bites were vicious and cruel. It’s like…” she trails off lost in thought. You knew what she was going to say. You thought the same thing while he was biting you.

“Like he was trying to mark me as his,” you breathe.

She stays silent and nods her head. “This is so strange… I’ve only heard of something like this happening if-,” she says but gets interrupted by Elvis.

“What does this mean? Why is this happening to her? First, she didn’t turn right away and now these bite marks are coming back? I don’t understand,” Elvis says frustratedly.

Iris stands back up and is listening in thought. She paces a bit, collecting her thoughts.

“Forgive me for the lack of clarity but… you killed Raphael for this, didn’t you? For doing all of this to her?” She asks him.

“Yes of course I did. Cut his head right off,” he growls. Iris looks at him expectantly like she’s waiting for him to say more.

She swallows harshly, “…and you staked him in the heart right?” She asks gently.

You look up at Elvis expecting to see him nodding in agreement but instead, he turns three shades paler and his knees buckle to the floor. You grab onto his shoulder and try to get him to look at you.

“Honey?” You shake him.

He looks up and for the first time in a while, his eyes look dark.

Deadly.

Vicious.

On the hunt for blood.

His breathing becomes labored and his fangs descend down.

“You’re telling me, Raphael is alive?” He hisses.

“It’s possible… and it looks like it’s true with these scars reforming on her body. He has a tie to her it seems. Only someone so cruel and vile would inflict this kind of harm,” she says lightly.

“No!” Elvis yells, his fist slamming into the wall behind him. Pieces of drywall crumble down and a large hole is left behind.

“I’m not entirely certain though. It is just a theory. It looks like a huge possibility though. He would need a lot of help to be brought back to life, but it’s possible. The only way to truly kill a vampire is to stake them in the heart, with an ash stake in particular. Certain types of wood hold mystical properties that will keep vampires dead. There is no way of resuscitating them after that and since you didn’t do that… he might be out there somewhere,” she says walking back to the couch cautiously, looking at him with his fangs exposed like he was dangerous. You had to agree though, he was dangerous when it came to protecting you. He would do anything for you and should be feared.

“I-I-I didn’t know… no one told me and none of the legends go into that sort of thing…” he says scared. You try to recall the books you had been reading and you don’t remember any specifics of how to kill a vampire. You’re sure Elvis read every book there was and read it multiple times, he wouldn’t miss that crucial piece of information.

“It’s okay Elvis, it's not a widely known thing because we don’t want everyone to know how to annihilate us off this planet. Humans have always been superstitious about us and if they knew the one thing that can kill us, it would be a very hard life to live here,” she explains

Your stomach turned and felt like you could be sick. This was the worst thing you could hear. You had some sort of tie to that wicked, cruel man all because you let him bite you while you were human. You couldn’t believe any of this. It felt like the world was closing in on you and you were drowning.

“We’ll figure out what to do together. It’ll be alright. It’s not like he knows where you live,” Alexander tried to reassure.

“Everyone knows where I live you fucking-,” Elvis starts to yell but you quickly get up and try to stop him.

“Honey stop stop! It’s alright, it’s alright. We’re going to be fine,” you say trying to calm him down, He looks at you like he doesn’t believe a word you just said. Frankly, you don’t believe a word you said either. You had no idea if it was going to be okay.

“What do we do?” Elvis asks them.

“He’s going to come looking for her eventually, so it’s best to be prepared. Keep your guys on watch and keep everyone strong. So that means you two need to feed and complete your bond. That will help you get stronger and not let him have more of a hold on her or risk her getting compelled by him in any way,” Alexander tells you both.

Iris grabs his hand and stands up again.

“We should leave you alone for now. I know you both have a lot to discuss. We’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk more,” she says softly and starts to make her way to the front door with Alexander in tow.

The front door slams and you both are standing there motionless, stuck in complete shock. Elvis looks like he’s about to collapse again. He slowly walks to the staircase and sits down on the third step. His face is in his hands and his long legs are stretched out. He looks defeated like this. Your heart dies to see him like this.

You kneel in between his legs, “Honey, I-I’m so scared,” you whimper. He looks up at you and his fangs are gone and tears fall down his cheeks.

“This is all my fault. I’m so sorry for this,” he sighs.

“No honey that’s not true-,” you try to reassure.

“No. It is. I have put you in so much danger since meeting you and even worse, I left you alone for weeks, defenseless and starving. I don’t know why I keep fucking all this up with you. I’m so sorry,” he sighs.

“I understand why you left,” you say gently, “you were desperate for answers. I’m sorry that I started a fight that drove you to leave though. I’m sorry for that. I wish you could have told me how you felt in the beginning. I didn’t know about any of that you said in the living room,” you say sheepishly.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between you two and Elvis continues to not look at you. Your heart thumps nervously, waiting for him to say anything to reassure you.

“It was too sickening to admit to you. I couldn’t look at your face when I said it,” he pauses to look at you. “I can’t take any of it back but if it changes anything, I’ve loved you the second I saw you. I was too afraid to admit it, so I did some shallow things, and I’m sorry for that,” he sniffles.

Your heart breaks as you watch him sit there. You reach for his hand and squeeze it lightly.

“We’re not perfect, but I believe you. We can’t change the past… I know your love for me has always been stronger than I can possibly imagine,” you say softly. He lets go of your hand and wipes his face.

“I’m an idiot… I can’t keep doing this to you. You’re in harm's way yet again,” he pauses and looks at you for the first time. His eyes look like he’s looking right through you, “Maybe it would be better if you forgot all of this…compel you. Send you far away until I take care of Raphael once and for all and just start over with us…” he alludes.

Your heart stops. You stare at him blankly and can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. You stumble backward, not being able to be so close to him.

“E-Elvis…NO! What are you thinking! No!” You yell at him.

“I can’t cause you any more pain! And there is bound to be more pain with Raphael around! It’s going to kill me if he hurts you again! I can’t see that again,” he cries, grabbing your arm to still you. “I can send you with Iris and Alexander, I know they’d protect you-,” he continues.

“NO! I won’t let you do that!” You yell, getting up to your feet. “If you do that, I’ll never forgive you, Elvis! I promise you that!” You seethe, tears flowing down your face.

He stands up too, looking at you intensely. You can’t help but hold your breath, too afraid of what he’s going to say next.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to put you out of harm's way,” he trembles.

“This isn’t the solution. I would never agree to that” you cry. “I swear I won’t forgive you if you make me forget a single detail!”

“Then what is the solution?! If he hurts you, or even worse, tries to kill you, I would die too. We’re meant to be together forever, tied together in our bond…the bond that I’ve only weakened being gone so long and not letting you feed…” he says mournfully.

“Stop please, I can’t live without you either. Not even for a second! I would always feel this giant hole inside my heart if you had someone compel me to forget you. It would be the worst pain I could ever feel,” you shudder.

You step closer to him with hurt eyes and an aching heart.

“We need to figure this out together, not pushing each other away. How many times do I need to prove that to you,” you say gently. He looks at you through tear-filled eyes and breathes slowly. You can feel the mood of the room drastically shift with the way he’s looking at you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him but there’s a small part of you that still trembles in his presence.

He takes a small step closer to you, then another and another, just until your chests barely touch.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I felt so hollow without you these last few weeks… I don’t know how I would last another day,” he whispers, his lips so close to yours. You feel your heart flutter again, gasping for breath in his suffocating presence.

“I know,” you breathe, closing your eyes.

He gently caresses your arms, giving you chills down your spine.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for this.” He grumbles.

His touch sparks the dimmed light inside you and you want to touch him too. He moves his face to the side of yours and runs his fingers through your hair. He sighs slowly then takes in a deep breath, taking in your scent. You feel like you could crumble at his feet. The slightest touch makes it harder and harder to breathe. His fingers slowly drag down the length of your hair and his hand snakes down to your waist. Your breath catches in your throat as he does this, not ready for his intimate touch. You feel his teeth graze your earlobe and slowly drag it down.

Lord save me.

“Baby, I ache for you…” he gasps. You pull your head away from his and you try to look in his eyes.

He flashes his golden eyes to you and makes you weak.

“Fix me,” he whimpers.

“Y-you don’t… I don’t unders-,” you tremble as you feel him pull your body flush to his.

“Make me whole again… Please,” he sighs squeezing you tighter. “Forgive me for all of it.”

Your breathing feels ragged and like an involuntary reaction, you pull at his arms to hold you tighter. He places a kiss on your cheek and you feel the heat linger there. His hand tangles in your hair again and you feel him become more desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know, it’s okay,” you say back.

He quickly picks you up by the back of your knees and lifts you off the ground, carrying you up the white carpeted stairs. He looks at you in his arms like you’re a wounded bird he found on the side of the road. His eyes bled so much sorrow and shame. They might appear golden right now, but underneath there was this cold, blustery storm inside of them that he was battling by himself.

He pushes open the bedroom door with his back and shuts it with his foot. He walks over to the bed and places you in the middle of it. You realize this is the first time you’ve laid in this bed since coming here. You didn’t want to get in it with Elvis around. He sits next to you, observing every inch of you as you lay there. He brushes your hair off of your chest and exposes your neck to him. You instantly cover up the scar mark with your hand.

“Forgive me,” he whimpers again, pulling your hand away from your neck.

“It’s okay,” you breathe.

He scoops his hands underneath your back and gets on top of you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his torso, wanting him closer. He grumbles delightfully, relishing in the closeness.

“Feed on me,” he says in a breathy voice, “then let me make love to you. Please,” he begs.

“Honey I-,” you begin to say but he cuts you off with a kiss. This kiss was like no other. It was meaningful, passionate, and intense with fireworks exploding in your mind when you felt his lips. Oh how you missed his lips, those perfect plush lips that have you needing more. Your hands tangle in his hair, wanting him to stay close. You breathe in his scent, realizing how much you missed that too.

“Please,” he begs.

He takes his lips off yours and covers your cheek with kisses. He stops when he reaches your neck and you freeze. You didn’t want him to look there ever again. His thumb glides gently along the scar.

“Honey I’m so sorry,” he begins to say.

“Please don’t look. It’s too much,” you whimper.

He doesn’t listen of course and starts to lift up your shirt to see the other marks. You had to look away from him, you couldn’t watch his reaction yet again to those horrendous scars. You can feel his fingertips trace over the marks in a calculated and precise manner. You sigh and try to get him to touch you anywhere else but he’s much stronger than you and won’t budge. He slowly starts to cover your torso in warm, wet kisses, trailing up to your breasts and you melt away. You feel your heart start to race, getting even weaker the longer his mouth is on your skin.

“Feed on me,” he says low as you feel his hardening length press against your core. You grumble at the sensation and moan softly. You pull his neck closer to your mouth and try to focus. You place a kiss on the spot you want to bite and hear him groan slightly. You try to get your fangs to descend and feel the pull of his scent to beckon you for more. You feel your teeth sharpen and your sensations get overloaded with need for him. You place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him closer to sink your teeth into him. You pierce his skin and he groans heavily. His blood spills into your mouth and it tastes like heaven. It’s better than you remembered and all the blood bags you drank put this to shame. He tasted so sweet yet savory. So satisfying and yet you’ll always need more.

You groan as you swallow mouthfuls, feeling so content and happy. You feel his hand slither down to the button of your pants and undo it, sliding the zipper down too. He feels your heat radiate from your core and puts his hands into your panties. You hold onto him tighter, knowing you’re going to be ultra-sensitive when he touches you. His fingers find your clit and rub it in soft, concentrated circles.

A fire ignites in you and you groan. You weren’t going to stop feeding until he told you to. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this in your entire life. It was strangely erotic, the way you wanted his body and his blood to appease the undying need for him. You hold him tighter, as you feel his finger tease your entrance. You were wetter than expected and he groans softly. You moan into his neck and carefully take your teeth out of him. Your entire body felt like it was tingling, buzzing with an electric wave that flowed between you and him.

He lifts up his head and hovers over you. His eyes drink in your needy body as you gaze at the bite mark you left on him leaking with blood. It made you thirsty again. He pulls your pants down swiftly and uncovers the remaining scars left behind.

He trails kisses up your body until he’s back at your lips.

“Can I make love to you now? Please,” He asks softly. You feel your heart fly out of your chest by the request.

All you can do is nod your head and tear at his shirt, ripping it clean off of him. He would normally make a snarky comment about how that’s his favorite shirt or something but not tonight. The mood is very different in here. He sheds his pants off and climbs back on the bed with you. His hand rubs your tummy lovingly and looks up at you with care.

“I need you,” he whimpers.

He doesn’t have to say much else to drive you crazy. You put your hands on his hips to get him closer. He gently rubs his length through your wet folds, causing both of you to groan. You were more sensitive than you were expecting. Every sense inside you was heightened and you can only imagine this is going to be like the first time he fucked you. So completely overwhelming and needy.

You watch as he teases you, covering his tip in your wetness. You squeeze your eyes shut and groan in agony. You can’t help but ball the comforter in your fist as you anticipate him entering you.

“I’m gonna love you nice and slow, okay?” He says low and sultry.

Please God yes! Please love me! That’s all I want, your brain screams.

You pop your eyes back open and nod your head yes.

That’s all you can do, there aren’t any words that can be said out loud. And with that, he pushes his cock inside you. He felt so good, it had been so long since he got to do this. His bedroom eyes are heavy with lust as he watches you underneath him.

He places a kiss on your lips, groaning as he does so. He pushes in a bit more, your entrance stretching around him as it makes you gasp.

“Oh God,” you groan into his mouth, your fingers scratching down his back.

He places a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck. These touches can send you to heaven and he knows it. He kisses you more and each one leaves you more breathless. His hips move like only he can giving you more of his cock.

There was so much urgency but also tenderness from him. The way he was loving you was like his life depended on it. Maybe it did and he needed you this much.

“I missed you,” he groans into your ear as he moves deeper inside you.

You can’t handle him, he is making you a total puddle underneath him. You continue to hold onto him tight and enjoy every second of this. Elvis places a kiss on your forehead before looking at you with a familiar glint in his eye.

He was starving.

It made your heart gallop uncontrollably and quite frankly, it made you starved too. You could wait though, you wanted to take care of him too.

“Bite me,” you whimper. He responds with a groan and plunges his length fully inside of you making you cry out for him. Your walls squeeze around him momentarily as he moves more inside of you. You need to gasp for breath as each thrust of his makes you immeasurably weak. Looking up at him stunned, he continues to gently swivel his hips into you and makes you moan his name louder. He can’t help but smirk when he watches you get physically pleased by him.

“Honey please,” you beg him, trying to get him to lean back into your neck. He doesn’t listen to your directions right away, there is this restraint to him. You sense that he’s timid and shy throughout all of this.

“I’m starved, honey. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says weakly. You claw at his arms and moan frustratedly.

“Please, just bite me. I can take it,” you groan.

His chest heaves as he looks at you and he grabs a hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head. It was like a switch flipped and the mood of the room shifted dramatically. You can feel how needy he has become and how hungry he is for you.

“Fuck darlin’, I needed to hear that,” he groans. His hips grind into you harder making that coil inside you tighten with every thrust of his cock. He looks at you so intensely and keeps his slow pace that is agonizingly satisfying for you. You bare the side of your neck to him and hope he takes the hint to bite you there.

You close your eyes and feel his teeth gently sink into your neck, making you suck in a sharp breath. You don’t know what to expect but you know it wouldn’t be painful like last time. And you were right. This strange frenzy develops inside you and your pleasure skyrockets. You loved how he felt drinking from you as he buried his cock deep inside of you. You couldn’t get enough of this and you could feel how much he loved this too. Your heart soars knowing your bond together is only strengthening. Elvis groans deeply as he drinks your blood, his grip on you getting tighter.

He pauses and takes his fangs out of you.

“Oh honey, you are so delicious,” he grovels.

“Take more baby,” you tell him breathlessly.

He licks his lips slow and sultry, thrusting into you a bit faster. He concentrates on your pleasure and the faces you make because of it, wanting to see you fall apart.

“You’re mine,” he growls, "fucking mine." He goes back to sink his teeth into the top of your breast. You gasp as he squeezes and sucks on it. He quickly takes his length out of you and you groan in agony, your walls fluttering in need of him once more. He trails kisses down your breasts and moves down to your tummy, biting there and groaning. Every kiss and bite from him was so overwhelming. Pleasure skyrocketed through you and couldn’t help but cuss his name. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to mark you as his in a very apparent way. You believed it, your heart and soul knew it but for anyone else that might glance your way, he wanted them to know too. You moan his name and look down where he’s going to bite next. He examines the scar on your thigh and grumbles displeased. He takes another bite there, squeezing your thigh tightly and groaning when he tastes you.

His bite marks that he made were left leaking and spilling onto the sheets. You had to pray they would heal quickly and everything was going to be alright. Elvis licks up your thigh and looks at you once again. His eyes are much more soft and his demeanor is calmer. Lastly, he takes your wrist and bites there, grumbling to himself pleased at the taste of you.

“Thank you, honey,” he sighs, “I can feel you again. I can feel how much you loved that.” He says relieved.

“Mhmm me too,” you smile at him, feeling his heart soar with happiness and relief. You pull at his arm and make him get closer to you.

“Please, I need you,” you moan.

He gives you a soft smile, “what do you need baby?” He says low, his voice gruff and sultry.

“I need you back inside of me,” you beg.

He nods his head at you and grabs onto your hips tightly, pushing his cock into you with a groan. You cry out for Elvis and writhe under him.

“Jesus mama you feel so damn good,” he groans, continuing to thrust slow and concentrated. “So fucking wet for me.”

With the way he feels and those lust-driven words coming from his mouth, you can’t hold on much longer. You wanted him to make you come apart. He looks so good while he fucks you; his hair tussled against his forehead, the low groans he makes when his cock is deep inside you, the way he lets his head fall back to the ceiling as his eyes roll back in pleasure. His neck was perfectly bared for you to bite him. You wanted him so desperately, that it made it hard to breathe. Your hips match his thrusts, needing him to fuck you harder. You look at him with pleading eyes and it’s like he heard your thoughts when you feel him move a bit faster and rub your clit.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out.

“That’s it, baby, let me feel you come,” he beckons, thrusting deep inside you. He pins your arms down again and nips at your neck.

“Come for me, please,” he growls in your ear. “I need you.”

You gasp at his words and beg him for more. He groans deeply and fucks you harder, making you see stars. Your walls squeeze around his cock and rock into every thrust he gives you. Every limb tingles with pleasure and you moan loudly for him. It felt so different than the last time you were with him. You were so much more sensitive now and craved him like never before. He takes in a sharp breath through his teeth and moves slower in and out of you.

“FUck, sucha good girl. I want to come deep inside you now,” he groans loudly. You need him to do that, the way his body ached for you was overwhelming, and wanted him to feel pleased like never before.

You twist your arms out of his grasp and it surprises him you were able to do so. You grab onto his shoulders and push him to the side, making him lay on his back quickly. You sink down on his cock once again and groan when he fills you again. He looks up at you wide-eyed and needy. His chest heaves and he grabs onto your hips to help you ride him.

“Shit baby yes, nice and slow,” he groans, rocking your hips back and forth on him. You gasp and nod your head at him, grinding slowly on his cock.

You cup your breast in your hands and roll your nipples in between your fingers, sending a zing of pleasure through you. Elvis can’t tear his eyes off of you and you can feel him grow desperate for you. You tease him, touching yourself more and making him watch. You look down at your hardened nipples and see the blood spilling from the bite mark he made. Your finger swipes up the trail of blood and place it to his lips. He opens his mouth gladly and swirls his tongue around your finger, sucking on it to make sure he licks all of your blood clean off. He groans and his eyebrows furrow as he looks up at you. Rocking your hips more, you know he needs to come. Your heart pounds away as you watch him and you feel his cock pulse deep inside you, groaning your name as he comes. You move faster and he holds onto your hips. His hips move off the bed to meet every thrust you give him making you want to come again.

“Fuck baby… so good, so good,” he whimpers. You smile pleased that you have him so weak for you.

You lean down onto his chest and make him bare his neck to you. This incessant thirst you have for him consumes your thoughts and you take a bite from his neck, sucking his blood happily. You hear him growl low and moan your name again.

“Good girl,” he whimpers. You take a few more gulps and take your mouth off of him, needing air. You felt so light and weak and yet, stronger than ever. It was such a strange sensation and you can see Elvis feels the same. He wraps his arms around you tightly and keeps you on his chest.

You both lay like this for a while, not wanting this moment to end.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear.

“I love you too,” you sigh.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he says softly.

“I know,” you say. You didn’t want to think about the future, you just wanted to live in this moment with him forever. You had to have hope that his words were true, everything was going to be alright and you both could have a peaceful and happy life together.

You push yourself off of him to look into those beautiful eyes of his and he smiles when he sees your face.

“The bite marks I made are healed honey,” he says pleased, rubbing his thumb gently along your neck.

“Good,” you smile. You start to get off of him to lay next to him but he stops you and keeps you on top of him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you,” he says devilishly. You feel your heart skip a beat and he pulls you close again, covering you in kisses.

Tagging : @burninlovebutler

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 hour

Text

Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.”

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart.

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.”

“Wait for the potential of us?”

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.”

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.”

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face.

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....”

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…”

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved.

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough.

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.”

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home.

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..”

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him.

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty.

And it stuck.

Now? It stung.

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms.

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...”

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face.

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time.

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you.

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it.

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you.

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years.

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job.

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off.

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years.

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone.

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.”

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. .

Spencer just stared at the photo.

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours. I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call.

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.”

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything.

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?”

“What?”

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.”

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?”

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now.

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life.

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter.

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely.

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit.

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night.

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car.

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face.

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.”

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort.

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?”

The three of you moved inside.

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like.

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you.

“What do you know about Cat Adams?”

That bitch.

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.”

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.”

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.”

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was.

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.”

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips.

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too.

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file.

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh.

“What is the last thing you know about her?”

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later.

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces.

“What? What happened?”

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?”

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–”

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.”

Both of them went silent.

“So is he out?”

They nodded slowly, silently.

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing.

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.”

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down.

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you.

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?”

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.”

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her.

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile.

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind.

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed.

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room.

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.”

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.”

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.”

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer.

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid.

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture.

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?”

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.”

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it.

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest.

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong.

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter.

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?”

“She took your father and sister.”

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.”

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear.

“So why is she here?” You whispered back.

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.”

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation.

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet.

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent.

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable.

“Don’t even start.”

He shrugged and stayed silent.

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.”

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone.

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch.

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch.

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.”

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.”

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.”

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?”

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office.

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily.

Emily sighed in agreement.

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n really shouldn’t be in there.”

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.”

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ.

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.”

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open.

And there he was.

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years.

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams.

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship.

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours.

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit.

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine.

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger.

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?”

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face.

Remember what Prentiss had said to you.

“You know why I’m here.”

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them.

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back.

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off.

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?”

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser.

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue.

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.”

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense.

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face.

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.”

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.”

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud.

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?”

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.”

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

“No.” you just looked down at your hands.

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.”

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?”

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.”

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her. “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch.

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed.

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?”

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine.

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.”

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.”

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.”

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head.

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.”

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where.

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.”

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you.

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you.

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.”

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?”

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.”

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.”

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?”

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here. Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”.

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?”

“Last year.”

“Was he good in bed?”

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.”

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow.

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?”

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?”

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send.

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.”

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.”

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” .

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.”

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.”

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.”

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer.

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.”

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up.

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?”

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.”

“Would you have written me back?”

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer.

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison.

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke. “We need to debrief.”

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in.

“Spencer, are you okay?”

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug.

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound.

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached.

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away.

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other.

“I should explain all of this.”

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.”

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.”

He just nodded, staring at you really.

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back.

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.”

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find.

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.”

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face.

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger.

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.”

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.”

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…”

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation.

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…”

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was.

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.”

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better.

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago.

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him.

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you.

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

It was Spencer who spoke first.

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—”

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did.

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered.

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different.

It’s not the way it used to be.

“I need to go Spencer.”

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure.

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head.

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.”

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.”

“Y/n please.”

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.”

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek.

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out.

You didn’t.

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you.

But it had to end.

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you.

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car.

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces.

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you.

The doors shut.

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage.

Your heart was aching, burning.

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time.

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communicationthroughlyrics · 10 months

Text

Our Fire When We're Together, Mixed With Paranoid Manners

You were able to break free, and finally start your dream. But will the one who matters most make it to the most important night of your life to date? Will she see you the same way?

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this one. Just kind of meh. Let me know what you think. Not proofread.

TW: Mentions of suicide, Anxiety, angst, and fluff. Not smut in this one, sorry :]

You sat on the closed lid to the toilet in your bathroom, stripped down to all but your underwear. Today was a huge day for you. To say you were stressed, was a colossal understatement. You had to get yourself ready for arguably one of the largest days of your life- next to marriage, and you had to do it without your best friend, whom had swore to you that they would be there for when this moment had happened. But of course, in typical fashion your life had decided to throw a massive monkey wrench into that plan, and shit had literally hit the fan while she was out of the country for work. Admittedly, you were proud of how you had handled this up to now, because going through a divorce while starting your dream business was no easy feat. Of course, your best friend, Lizzie, assured you that she was just a phone call away- but that was nothing compared to the calming presence she had when she was around you. You, in your ever so stubborn fashion, had opted to handle all of this yourself, not wanting to bother your best friend for fear of coming across as selfish. Part of you knew that her current fling wouldn’t appreciate you calling constantly, as they were not a fan of how close you and Liz were.

There had always been a tension between you two- you both attended NYU, which is where you had met the blonde, while she was going to school to pursue her budding acting career- you were going to get a business degree after attending a technical school to open your dream automotive shop, building the cars of peoples dreams. There had been an ‘after mid-term’ party that one of your friends had dragged you to, you had wanted to stay in and relax after the strenuous study schedule you had been on. Your friend had convinced you that one night out wouldn’t be the end of you. That is where you met a green eyed, blonde standing by the bar in the corner of the room, chatting up the ‘bartender’ as you had approached. You instantly recognized her from one of your statistics gen-ed classes, and you both picked up small talk, before walking to a quieter corner of the room. You talked all night, before exchanging numbers and continuing your conversations over the span of the remaining semester. You were amazed at how she always came to you with the most doe eyed, expectant expressions on her face, she was never sad to be around you, and vice versa. You both soon realized that you were each others calm, and could talk to each other with no expectations, no judgement, and a mutual respect that made everyone around you envious. Many of your friends became jealous of how easily she fit into your life. But you shrugged it off. You enjoyed her company. Only one of your fiends knew how you really felt- your best guy friend, Jason. He knew that your feelings were a little bit deeper than ‘best friends’, that you really wanted to be with Liz, but he respected that you didn’t want to ruin your friendship over feelings you were certain weren’t reciprocated.

As time went on, you both grew insanely close, and one fateful night you have both been at a party celebrating graduation, and you both were more than intoxicated. You were most definitely the more shy of the two, but given a healthy dose of liquid courage you were known to be a totally different person. You both had woken up in your apartment, sharing the bed naked. You both agreed at that moment that nothing had happened, but deep down, you knew that it wasn’t a ‘nothing’ kind of thing that had happened. But, against your better judgement, you told yourself to push your feelings down, ignore what had happened that night, and continue the relationship as it was. You watched her date guy after guy, further convincing yourself that she will never see you as more than a friend. You began drinking a little bit more, blaming your college years on building your tolerance and not knowing what to do with your new found time after graduating. Liz had moved back to California, jumping right into the acting business, and having her career pick up almost immediately. You were happy for her, you were. You just wished that she could also be happy with you. In the time that you had gotten to know her, she had introduced you to her family. They were hesitant to let you in at first, but knowing how the media had treated her family, particularly the twins, it was understandable.

Over time, you had won over her family, and they accepted you as one of their own. Now that Liz was all over, you often spent time with Mary Kate or Ashley while you were in New York. They could see right through the facade you put on whenever the younger Olsen was around, and knew about your feelings towards her. Every breakup, they would encourage you to say something- you would refuse, not wanting to be a rebound, wanting her to feel better first, and not wanting to jeopardize the relationship you had built. Inevitably, she would find someone almost immediately after, dispelling the “rebound recovery” theory right away, but you continued to support her as time went on.

What you had no idea of, however, was the late night conversations the blonde had with her older sisters, asking them why you didn’t like her the way she wanted, and why you had never capitalized on her failed relationships, swooping in the way she wanted you to, and finally asking you to be together. The day you started to date your now ex-wife, the scowl on her face was priceless. You made fun of her so much, mocking how jealous she was, without really truly realizing how she was, in fact, jealous. When you told her that you were getting married, she told you that it was a bad idea, but wouldn’t stop you. Everyone told you that it was a bad idea, but you ignored the warnings for the sheer desire and contentment you had to have someone, for once, to wake up to in the morning. You never once told your wife about your feelings for Liz, you didn’t dare to. You knew that would be the end of your friendship, and that would defeat the purpose of not saying anything. But- your subconscious had better ideas. Allegedly, your wife had found the diary you had written all your feelings in, the diary your therapist had advised you to start, and in that diary were your admitted feelings for your best friend, written in your hand, in blue and black ink. That coupled with you moaning her name in your sleep for a week straight, led to a confrontation about your feelings for the blonde.

When she gave you the inevitable ultimatum, “It’s me or her,” you chose her, not your wife- arguing that it was a 10 year friendship that can’t just be tossed aside for some ‘teenage feelings’. That’s what has led you to this point. Sitting on your toilet in your single bedroom apartment, thinking over the last year. Lizzie only knows of what you told her- that you were getting a divorce because Lauren, the other blonde in your life, your ex-wife, had been downplaying your dream to start a custom car building shop, and told you to pick a more “conventional” career. It wasn’t wrong- your wife hated the career path you had chosen. The times you would come home covered in car filth, grease, and smelling like paint thinner were too much for her. Despite it being your true passion, she never really supported it. The first time you had built a car out of a friends garage, and entered it into a prestigious regional car show, she didn’t even go with you to showcase the build. But Lizzie did. She was so proud of the moment you won Best in Show, and took you out celebrating afterwards.

After winning that show, you began receiving more and more requests for builds. This warranted you finally opening your dream shop. Liz and her family were proud of the progress you had made, and even helped you front the cost of a tiny shop in a small town upstate, giving you the space you needed to create your dream cars. Today, you received the finalization paperwork for your divorce from the greedy she-devil, as she was now called amongst your friends and family. She made sure to take everything she could from you in an act of spite- causing you to loose the small garage upstate, along with all the equipment, just so you could afford to find a place to put a roof over your head. You were also opening a new, larger shop. You had been working 2 jobs and saving all the money you could to pay for all the equipment and the space you needed, and today is the day you were supposed to open it to the world, with the unveiling of your latest build.

“Y/N/N, you know I will always be there. When your new shop opens, I swear I will be there for you. That was your dream, that’s what you went to school for. I remember the nights we would sit and bullshit, and we would talk about our dreams. You have been nothing but amazing, and supportive of me living mine- it’s only right for me to do the same.” Lizzie rubbed your shoulder, reassuring you before she flew out for Hong Kong for filming.

In all your talks in college, she had never really alluded to a dream car, necessarily. But she always referred to a car that had been in her family, that an uncle had sold, despite the family not wanting the car to leave the family. You had searched, and found such a car like she described, but it had been in rough condition. Knowing there was no way keep it original, you found a way to combine the car for what it was for the family, into something that Lizzie would drive. Or so you hoped. You converted the car to a hybrid electric system, as the engine had been completely seized form years of sitting. No one knew of what you built, but you invited the whole family to the opening, with the intention of unveiling this car to them, and giving it to Liz. But now, she can’t be there.

“Lizzieeeeeeeee, you said you would be there for me. I can’t do this without you!” You groaned at the computer screen, currently on a video call with your best friend. You slammed your head to the table next to the computer, shaking the screen, and making the blonde laugh in response.

“I know, hun. I have literally tried everything short of saying my entire family died to be able to take a small break to fly back. They are adamant on me doing these reshoots now, they can’t wait.” You groaned again, leaning back in the chair and letting your head fall completely backwards. You were honestly having a teenage tantrum.

“Fine, Liz. You’re lucky I love you. But you owe me.” You fire back, ignoring the pang in your heart, and the desire to tell her you really, truly love her.

“I know, Y/N. I love you, and I am so sorry I can’t be there for you this time. I hope I can make it up to you.”

You started the shower, finally willing yourself to get cleaned up and ready for the night. You had been at the shop, putting the finishing touches on the surprise for the night, ensuring that it was perfect. Once you were satisfied that you were clean enough, and had washed away enough tension to continue, you stepped out of your small shower, staring yourself down in the mirror. You were a ragged version of yourself, the stress of the divorce and the shop closing and reopening taking its toll. The video calls with Liz were few and far between, and you always sat in a darker room, so she wouldn’t worry about your now slim frame. You had honestly just quit drinking, and began working out, so you were now extremely toned in comparison to a year ago, but you were also a shocking 70 lbs. lighter, and you looked like a zombie due to the lack of sleep. The twins gave you a full ration of shit, telling you that they needed to make up for the younger sibling not being here to do it herself. If Lizzie saw you, you’re not sure what she would say. She had commented that your face looked weird, but hadn’t seen you entirely to know the extent of the last years dramatics and their toll on you.

Dressing yourself in a tight fitting black button up Dickies shirt, rolling up the sleeves for your now tattooed arms to show, and a pair of dark blue jeans, ruffling your hair and applying your choice cologne, you deemed yourself as ready as you could be for the night. You made sure to pick a place where you didn’t live far from the shop, so you could easily walk to work. Tonight, however, you decided to slip on your helmet and ride the motorcycle everyone chastised you for. Wedging your aviator sunglasses in between your helmet and their respective position on your ears, you fired the bike up, and took off down the street. You bobbed in and out of the traffic that was present, pulling into the large warehouse parking lot, noticing that a few people had already shown up to help set up.

You pulled the motorbike around back, and set the helmet on your handle bars, tousling your hair in the mirror of the bike, before using your keycard to walk into the back door of the shop. You don’t know how you had been so lucky, but the demand from your first car show has left you with an almost full shop of projects, not shortage of work in the foreseeable future. You were beyond grateful, but wished your best friend was here to see this. You see some tables set up at the far end of the shop, and a little soapbox type stage, you had requested this be built into the shop because you wanted an excuse to play music on random occasions and didn’t want the hassle of dealing with a bar. You were glad you had decided to cover the gift car, since the twins were both running around, setting up the food and drinks they had brought with them.

“Y/N!” Ashley had now noticed your arrival, running over and jumping onto you, hugging you tightly. “I am so damn proud of you. This place is amazing, even though it is…nerdy.” She scrunched her face, she never understood the passion you held in cars, but never held it against you.

“Thanks, Ash. I can’t believe this is really happening.” You respond, kicking your feet on the concrete floor, looking down at your feet.

“Oh, you best believe it, Y/N/N. We’re so proud of you, hun.” Your moms voice came from behind you, and you quickly turned on your heel, hugging her tightly.

“Thanks, ma. I love you.” You whisper, before letting her go to mill around and see the projects you have to work on. Guests slowly started to filter in, some of the owners of the cars now being housed in your garage coming up and congratulating you, and inspecting different aspects of the shop, curiosity overtaking them to see where their dream cars will be built. The dull thrum of music came through the shops speakers, and you made sure to thank everyone that came through the door for coming by. You held out a glimmer of hope that one particular blonde would show up, albeit fashionably late, but she never did.

“I see you keep watching the door, Y/N.” MK bumped your arm, as you were staring out from the loft above the shop, observing the 100 or so people below milling around, talking animatedly about their projects. Your dull expression on a night that should be one of your happiest, she frowned at the lack of excitement on your face.

“I miss her, MK. I wish she was here with us. It’s been almost a year.” You responded, swirling the drink in your hand, allowing your gaze to get lost in the swirl of amber alcohol within it. This was the first taste of any alcohol you had in months, so you decided to treat yourself.

“I know, we all do. But I know that this has been rough not having her here through everything you’ve been through the last year.” Her hand came to rest on your shoulder, gently rubbing it, calming you slightly.

“Yeah, it’s been challenging, to say the least.”

“Y/N?” MK asked, turning her back to walk to one of the leather arm chairs in your new office. She straddled the arm, sitting on it and staring right through you.

“Hmm?” You turned around, setting the glass on the railing as you gripped the railing behind you, leaning against it.

“Tell her. When you see her next. Put yourself out of the misery, and tell her how you feel.” Your eyes widened at her request, rather- demand.

“I can’t, MK. You know that. She’s never going to see me the way I see her, and I can’t loose her as a friend.” She nodded, looking down at her ring clad hands that are resting in her lap.

“Y/N. I can’t tell you how she will react, but I promise you, that you mean too much to her for her to let you go. You won’t loose her, Y/N. But you’ve got to tell her. You’ve been given a second chance here. Take it.” With that, she stood, grabbing the glass of club soda next to her, and walking back downstairs. You stalked over to your desk, sitting yourself down in your chair, and spinning around to the wall of photos behind your desk.

You found yourself getting lost in the stories behind each snapshot on the wall, replaying the visions that came with them. You weren’t sure how long you had been there, reliving the memories on the wall behind your desk, but a gentle hand on your shoulder quickly brought you out of your trance, making you jump slightly.

“Shouldn’t you be enjoying everyones company, Y/N? I believe they call it, ‘business networking?’ ” A familiar tone came from behind you, and you flew out of your chair, throwing yourself in the direction of the voice you had craved to hear all night.

“You said you couldn’t come tonight. I thought you were still in Hong Kong.” You whispered into her neck, not letting her go for fear she would suddenly disappear. “I missed you, Lizzie.”

“I missed you more, Y/N. I promised I wouldn’t miss this. But I wanted to surprise you.” She smiled as you pulled away finally baring yourself to your best friend, who had been absent from your present life for the last year. She was dressed in a simple black tee, blue jeans and sneakers- but to you, the simplest of outfits on her made her look stunning. She gave you a once over, frowning at your current state. “My god, Y/N, you don’t look well. You’re skin and bone compared to when I saw you last.”

“Uhm, yeah, but I’m ok.. I lost 70 lbs. Between the stress of the divorce, and building this place, handling all the upcoming work, and building the project down there, I haven’t really been myself, Liz. Especially not without my bestie around.” You showed her a small smile, nudging her arm. She frowned slightly at your admission, shaking her head. “The only thing that kept me going was… that project.” You hesitated, wanting to disclose that the true reason you kept going was her.

“Y/N, you have to take care of yourself.” She stepped closer to you again, grabbing your arm, rubbing it up and down, calming you instantly. Her viridescent eyes looked straight into yours, and you honestly found yourself getting lost in the seas before you. “Am I going to have to tote you around with me, take you everywhere I go so I can make sure you’re ok?” She laughed, lightly slapping your arm.

“Actually…” you smirk, laughing as her jaw drops and she hits you harder on the arm.

“Ass!” She laughs, grabbing you arm and pulling you back in for a hug.

“Well, Liz…you’re just in time for me to go down and show everyone my extra special secret project.”

Her eyebrow raised, and you swore that you could’ve died just then. “Extra special secret project? Are you 12?” She chuckled, shaking her head.

“Wha? No!!” You looked at her, incredulous that she would say that to you. Her face dropped at your panic, and you smiled her way, earning an eye roll from her. “Its special because of who it reminds me of, and who it’s for.”

“You built it for someone?!” Now it was her turn to look dumbfounded. “Who? Is it a secret client?” She emphasized the secret part, jumping up and down while clapping her hands together. She looked over the half wall to the crowd milling below. “It’s them, it’s totally them. I know it.” She pointed at someone in the people on the lower level. You laughed, approaching her and sliding your hand over her lower back, leaning against the wall and observing everyone happily chatting and enjoying the food and drink.

“I can assure you, it isn’t them. But to say that this person is my first client would be true. I’ve wanted to build this for them for a while now. For all that they did for me.” She turned in to look at you, and you watched the glint in her eyes. You swore that you saw something in her eyes, as she opened her mouth like she was going to say something. She quickly shut her mouth, and looked back to the group of people beneath you. You grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the stairs. You led her down the stairs, your hands still linked. When the twins caught sight of this, they both smirked your way, but you shook your head. The frown that overtook MK’s face was deep, as she set her face in a deep scowl. You mouthed “not now,” getting her to relax slightly before you pushed their younger sister over to them.

Approaching the small stage in the corner of the room, the roar in the room started to soften as the occupants noticed you approaching the microphone stand.

“Good Evening everyone,” you remove the mic from the stand, pushing the stand out of your personal bubble. There is a muffled response from everyone who has now turned to face you. Your eyes scanned the room, finding that the people who meant the most were all in a row together, at the back of the crowd. Lizzie was sandwiched in between her sisters, with Dave and Jarnie standing behind the twins. Your mom was next, with your dad standing with his arm around her shoulder. Some of your friends from college, from technical school and beyond. “I want to thank everyone for coming out here tonight, some of you came from out of state, and it means a lot to me that you could make it.” You lock your eyes on Lizzie, sending her a wink abhor moving on, walking around the small stage.

“This has been a long time coming, opening up a dream business that I have been passionate about since I was young. Building cars has been a passion of mine since elementary school. I hope that this passion continues to show in the work that is driven out of those doors.” You motion, pointing at the garage doors by the unveiling area you had designed in the shop. You continue to dive into the passion and the reasoning behind this decision to open a shop like this, as well as thanking the people who helped to get you to where you are now. “Now, as you can see, there are plenty of cars in here to occupy my time for a while, and I am sure in everyones chatting tonight that you all have realized that the majority of the owners of these cars are here tonight…” you gesture out to the racks of cars that were in various stages of being worked on. “… and I would like to thank each and every owner for trusting me with these projects, and having the faith in me to put their dreams forth and turn these cars into a reality.” You walked down off the stage, as everyone claps.

“Now, the project that has been occupying my time of late, the vehicle that will christen this shop as the first vehicle to leave that rollup door, is a special vehicle to someone who has proved to be very important to me, and whose family has welcomed me as one of their own.” You look up, noticing the reaction of the family you were speaking of. “You may be asking, Y/N, what about your parents? They’re here too. Well, the answer is simple. Ive built those cars in thanks already. Those cars are the reason I have a client base now.” You gesture towards the trio of cars that were built for your parents. “This car, is for my ‘adopted’ family. I found out about this car, in my multiple late night discussions with that young lady, over there.” You point in Lizzies direction, and the rooms attention shifts towards the Olsen family. “This woman has become one of my absolute best friends, after meeting her in business school at NYU. For the last ten years, she has been with me through absolutely everything.” She blushed and scrunched her nose, as you waved her up to you.

“This is the car I saw in so many family photos, and heard stories of driving around with their grandpa and dad before it needed to be sold. It reminds me so much of the story of that vehicle over there, and how I felt when it disappeared outside of the family.” You pointed at the same 1955 Chevy that was your grandfathers, that was sold and broke your family’s collective heart. When you were able to track down the same vehicle, you fixed it, and surprised your parents by driving up to their house in it. Your mom was in tears, it was her fathers car, his baby from the time he bought it when she was in middle school. The significance of it, being that is was the same year her oldest sibling was born. Your grandfathers first child. SO when it left the family, it was truly heartbreaking.

“Loosing that 55 was difficult on the family, because it becomes a family member. So saying that I understood how hard it was for this family to loose a family member, is an understatement.” You walk over to the vehicle, inviting the rest of the Olsens up to stand behind it. “None of them knew about this build, till now.” You turn and smile, taking in the shocked faces of the family, noticing the mixed emotions of what may lay below the satin sheet. “Now, I did take some liberty here, and designed it for a changing world. I designed it knowing the things that are important to the person I wanted to gift this to.” You smile, looking over at the blonde beside you. The look on her face was one of astonishment. “It may seem sacrilegious for some, but the condition I found this vehicle in, I couldn’t save the powertrain. So, considering how hard it is to find an original powertrain for this car, I did what I felt was best. I made it more powerful, but better for the environment. I was able to make this vehicle a hybrid.” You gesture, walking over to a corner of the sheet, waving Lizzie to follow. She looked over the vehicle before looking at you with tears in her eyes. You handed her the corner of the fabric, and told her to pull it towards the corner. She nodded, wiping the tears away that had fallen, before she pulled the fabric off the car, revealing a black 1961 Ferrari Spyder. She immediately dropped the fabric, covering her mouth as she cried seeing the vehicle that she spoke so emphatically about. The twins, Jarnie and Dave all crying, as the vehicle, like the old Chevy to your mom, was her dads car growing up.

The room began to mill around, looking at the vehicle, as you lifted the hood to reveal a hybrid electric power plant, and Lizzie came up and wrapped her arms around you from behind.

“Why?” She whispered, causing goosebumps to erupt across your body. “You didn’t need to do this, you know.”

“You deserve it. Your family, they deserve it too. You’ve been there for me, more than anyone ever has. So many times you pulled me from a dark place, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that, because had you not been there, I would not be here today.” Your eyes get misty as you pull her away towards a farther corner of the room.

“What do you mean, Y/N?” She asks, not fully understanding the depth of what needs to be said.

“I’ll tell you later. First, I want you and your dad to go take a ride in your new old car.” You say, smiling as you hand her the keys.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious. You built it for me? This, this is mine?” Her hand was shaking as she reached for the keys.

“Yes. Yes it is.” You shook your head, slipping the keys into her hand.

“But, wha…what about mom and dad?” She asked, gesturing towards them, as they looked over the vehicle, Jarnie sitting in the passenger seat.

“I already asked them, they agree. This is your car.” She whipped her head in your direction at the admission.

“They knew about this?”

“Not to the extent that I did, but they knew I bought your grandpas car back. I had to ask them for the records to the car to find it.”

“You sneaky fucking shit,” she laughed at you, smacking your chest.

“Go, enjoy it. We can talk when you get back,” you smile at her, before she went running over and hugging her mom and dad. You smiled at the interaction between the three.

“You did good, hun.” Your mom says, coming up and hugging you. “It’s a beautiful car.”

“Thanks, ma. I appreciate it.” You smile, hugging her tight.

“Now, Y/N… when are you going to tell the poor girl how you feel?” It was your turn to look absolutely stunned. “Y/N, honey, I know how you feel about her. It’s obvious. I may not have accepted the fact that you were gay at first, but I know you better than anyone. You and her, you’re crazy about each other, and you both keep running around it, and avoiding it. Tell Liz how you feel. She feels the same way.”

“Ma, I know. What is this, gang up on Y/N day? MK said the same thing to me not even 2 hours ago.”

“Because it’s true, Y/N. Don’t be stupid, look where that got you with your last relationship.” She scolded, before walking away. You stood there stunned at what your mother had just told you. You knew that she didn’t like your now ex-wife. You just thought that was in part to her not agreeing with you being gay. But it wasn’t. She just hated your ex. You let out a deep sigh, jumping when a hand lands on your shoulder.

“What was that about?” MK asked, raising her eyebrow like she really knew the answer.

“You two are teaming up on me. I swear.” You grumble.

“Because we care? And because we know. Believe me, I know Lizzie better than anyone.”

“What does that even mean??” You groan.

“Y/N, don’t be dense. Just wo-man up and say it.” You grimace at the statement.

“Ew. Don’t ever say wo-man up ever, ever again.” She laughs before walking away, just as the black convertible pulls back into the garage. Lizzie is grinning from ear to ear, and her dad is too.

“This isn’t what we had anticipated when you asked for information about the car, Y/N/N.” Jarnie slid in next to you, still staring at the car on the other end of the shop. “We thought you were going to leave it as-is. This is better than we all had imagined. They look so happy.” She smiled, taking in the sight of the three girls and their dad around the car.

“It was your dads car, what do you think?” You ask, nudging the eldest Olsen.

“It’s perfect, Y/N. Especially for Liz.” You turn and give the woman a hug, before she walks over to where the twins stood. You decide to let them look everything over, and dismiss yourself through the crowd, shanking hands and briefly speaking with those who stopped you on the way upstairs to your office. With how the last year has been, you find yourself reflecting by yourself more often. You see some people begin to filter their way out, at this point the party had been going on for roughly 4 hours. You again found yourself behind your desk, staring into space, not noticing the new presence in the room.

“I was told you needed to speak to me.” The voice of your best friend rang out from behind you.

“You were told, huh?” You smile, turning in your chair to face your best friend, who sat herself down in the chair across from you, the desk now in between.

“More like, directed to come up here by your mom, my mom and my sisters.” She said, laughing. You rolled your eyes at their insistence.

“Of course, they’re seriously annoying me tonight.”

“Oh? How come?”

“It’s nothing, Liz.” She shook her head in response.

“What were you talking about earlier, Y/N? When you said you wouldn’t be here?”

“What I meant, was that you were what kept me going, Liz.” You let out a deep sigh, shifting your gaze to the floor beside the actress. “I was so close, so many times, to calling it quits. You always had a way of pulling me out of it. Sometimes I would get your text in the middle of my meltdown, or a phone call because you just wanted to catch up.” You laugh a watery laugh. “The last time we spoke on the phone, you had called at one of the worst times for me.” Her face shifted to one of confusion and concern.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember the last phone call, not video call, we had?”

“Yeah, you told me in that call that you and she-devil were getting a divorce. I tried to video call you instead but you kept declining it.”

“Yeah. I kept declining it because I was on the edge, Liz. I didn’t want you to see me like that. But you called without knowing something was going on. And hearing your voice, made me picture you. You saved me that night. Otherwise the next time you saw me, it would have been in a casket.” She stood, moving towards you and kneeling before you in your chair.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N? I had no idea…” she trailed off. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, sniffling at the admission.

“Because Liz, I didn’t want to be a burden. I knew if you found out, you would up and leave what you were doing. I didn’t want to be that friend, that made you leave a movie that you had been so happy about landing.”

“Y/N, I would have left because you mean the world to me. I would have rather left than finding out you killed yourself and never got the chance to k… see you again.” She stumbled over the last bit of the sentence, catching your attention.

“Lizzie,” you took her hands, spinning the ring on her pointer finger in your hand. “I do need to tell you something.”

“Ok. But only if I can tell you something afterwards.” You shake your head, acknowledging her request. Taking a deep breath, you push back from her, afraid to see the reaction she has to you. Standing, you walk away, closing the door to the office, and pushing the button by your light switch for the blinds to come down. You pace back and forth, before settling on a spot, and turning to look at your best friend. She was now standing behind your desk, with her arms crossed, a concerned look strewn across her features.

“Lizzie,” you start, your heart beat seemingly pounding louder and louder. “You’re one of the best people in my life, and you quickly became one of the most important to me. No matter what you think, I can’t loose you, as a friend…” you start as she shifts her weight from one leg to another. “But, I need to tell you, that I love you. Not just as my best friend, not just as a person. I really truly love you.” You say, your eyes darting over to gauge her reaction. Her face remained stoic, she was certainly giving you her best Wanda expression. She ran her hand through her hair, taking a deep breath, before looking down. You began to panic, unsure of how she was reacting.

“Y/N,” she started, her voice smaller than normal. She suddenly surged forwards, wrapping her arms behind your neck. “I love you too. I have, for a while.” She responded, as your face went from sullen and distant to hopeful. She leaned in, ghosting her lips against yours. “But I want you to make the first move.” She smirked, pulling away ever so slightly to look into your eyes. You looked for any sense or indication of being hesitant, finding none. Bringing your hand up to grab her behind her head, you pull her towards you, placing your other hand on the small of her back, and flushing her body against yours. Lowering your head, you press your lips against hers, sealing your confessions in a slow kiss. You both continued, slowly, passionately, before you separated and rested your foreheads against each others.

“How long, Liz?” You asked, grabbing hold of her hands, playing with her fingers.

“A month after we met, I knew something was different. But I was also scared of my feelings, scared of my parents, and how everyone may react. But watching you marry Lauren, that was one of the most difficult nights of my life. At that point I thought that I had lost you, and I was never going to forgive myself. I knew that after the night we woke up together in the same bed, I should have told you how I felt. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have driven you to someone else.”

“Liz, you didn’t though. I should have said something sooner. I didn’t want to loose you.”

“You have the chance now, Y/N. Don’t loose me now.” She responds, before you crash your lips to hers in a much more sloppy, heated kiss. You quickly took over, directing all the passion and emotion into the kiss, pushing her smaller frame against your desk. You feel her smile into the kiss, biting your lip before pulling away. “You have no idea how long I have waited for that, Y/N.”

You smiled, pulling her in for a tight hug, nestling your face into the crook of her neck, her arms wrapped around the back of your neck, fingers laced in your hair.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Liz.”

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