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ex!bf!rafe leaving a drunken voicemail on your phone
a/n: lowkey part two of this, but can be read individually
cw: heavy angst, emotional betrayal, regret, lots of yearning
you told yourself you wouldnât think about him anymore. but the image of that night was burned into your brain, no matter how many times you tried to forget about it.
rafe at that party, drink in one hand, her on his arm. the girl heâd told you not to worry about. the one whoâd always been lingering in the back of your relationship.
he saw you. you saw him. and for a split second the mask slipped. but that was it. you walked out, silent, shattered, and you didnât look back. you thought that would be the end of it. a clean break.
but a week later, at 3:14 in the morning, your phone lit up with his name. one missed call. one voicemail. you stared at it for a long time. every part of you screamed not to listen. but your body betrayed you.
ây/nâŚâ the way he said your name, like it physically hurt him, already had tears welling your eyes. his words slurred, heavy with whiskey, breaking in some places. âi donât know how to do this. i donât know how to be without you.â
your stomach clenched. even now, even after everything, the sound of his voice still hit like a punch. you curled your fingers into the sheets, trying to steady yourself. you wanted to scream, to tell him he shouldâve thought about that before. but you couldnât make a sound.
âi saw you last week. i saw the way you looked at me when you walked out. you looked at me like i was nothing. and i deserve that, i do. but, fuckâdo you know what it did to me? it killed me. because youâre the only thing iâve ever wanted, and i threw it away for nothing. for her. and it didnât mean shit, y/n. it was empty. everythingâs empty without you.â
his breathing was uneven, like he was fighting back sobs. you squeezed your eyes shut. you remembered how it felt, standing there at that party, your chest splitting as you watched him touch her the way he used to touch you.
âi keep trying to fill the hole you left. pills, booze, girls, fightsânone of it works. it never works. because itâs not you. itâs never you. and i swear to god, youâre the only one who makes me feel like iâm not insane. like iâm not just my fatherâs fucked-up, broken son. with you, i felt⌠human. like maybe i was worth something. do you get that? youâre the only thing thatâs ever made me feel alive.â
your throat closed. tears spilling down your cheeks. he was saying all the things you once begged him to say when you were still there, still fighting for him. and now it was too late.
âi know i ruined it. i know i broke you. i know iâve been a coward from the start. but i canât fucking breathe without you. i canât sleep, i canât eat, i canât think. i walk into a room and iâm looking for you. i close my eyes and itâs you i see. iâm haunted by you, y/n. and maybe thatâs what i deserve. maybe thatâs my punishment for throwing away the only good thing i ever had. but iâm begging you, even if you never take me backâplease donât forget me. please donât erase me from your life like i donât exist. i couldnât take it.â
a pause, then a sound so raw it broke you. he choked on a desperate sob. you bit your lip so hard it almost bled. part of you wanted to hate him for this. and part of you wanted to reach through the phone and just have him with you again.
âi love you. i love you in a way that ruins me. in a way thatâs killing me right now. and iâll never stop. i donât care if you hate me, i donât care if you never say it back againâiâll never stop loving you. youâre it for me, y/n. youâve always been it.â
the voicemail ended in silence. but his words hung in the air, pressing against your ribs, making it impossible to breathe. you sat there in the dark, your phone clutched tight, tears slipping down your face faster than you could wipe them away.
you hated him. you loved him. you couldnât stop hurting. and yet, god help you, you wanted him. your thumb hovered over his name in your call log. you told yourself not to do it, that it would only hurt more. but you pressed it anyway.
the line rang once. and then his voice came through, rough and broken, like he hadnât slept in days. ââŚy/n?â
hii!! in the introduction of the couple you wrote: who kept hooking up for three months after the papers were signed before they both decided to stop. sneaking around in between houses (hiding from their kids instead of their parents now)
how would this end, are you planning on writing something for this too or no? (not necessarily nsfw but like maybe more on the angsty side if you know wjat i mean?) im sorry english isnt my first language.
i really love your writing btw!!!! đЎ
THIS IS THE LAST TIME (throwback). (+18).
ex-husband!rafe x ex-wife!reader.
summary: this is the last time you and Rafe let yourselves fall into each other.
word count: 5.6k.
warnings: MDNI. +18. smut (omgđđ). unprotected p in v (don't.. do that). language. angst. guilty sexual relations?. (as always English isn't my first language so apologies for any possible grammatical errors).
author's note: SO. the time has finally come. the long awaited... btw I've NEVER written smut before sođ pls be kind. i hope this isn't as cringy as i think it is. but i loved writing... lol. and i obviously thought about this song the entire time i wrote this.
the pain is never enough!!
EX-HUSBAND!RAFE'S MASTERLIST.
The text you send isnât brave, or poetic, or even intentional.
Itâs pathetic, if youâre being honest. And you hate the way it sounds, so casual, as if that's all you are now. As if every breathe you keep sharing isn't charged with the damage you keep doing to each other.
It feels like relapse. A relapse you walked into with open and conscious eyes.
You: Are you up?
Two words. No explanation. No double question mark that sounds like you thinking twice before hitting send. Just a tap of your thumb at 11:47 p.m. because you canât sleep, and you canât stop thinking about him, and youâre so tired of pretending you donât know the shape of his hands anymore.
You expect silence. The last time you saw him like this, he was the one who texted first. You keep changing roles and it only shows just how much you're thinking about each other.
But your phone lights up within seconds. Almost rehearsed, this is your new and miserable routine.
Rafe: Yeah. Need me to come?
Itâs not even a question. Itâs a reflex. He already knows what you're going to say.
Your chest tightens. You shouldn't even be doing this anymore, he shouldn't even be answering you either. But the door is still open for a reason and you both don't want to close it yet. Publicly, the door isn't even closed, it's shut down.
Why is this still so easy for him? The questions hangs on your tired brain.
Your fingers hesitate over the keyboardâ but the truth is, hesitation has never stopped you when it comes to him. No matter how scared you might be, you will always chose him.
You: Back door. Be quiet.
As soon as the message delivers, regret blooms like a bruise. Inevitable and so predictable and avoidable, you know you could save yourself from it if you just stopped.
You stand there in the dark kitchen, wrapped in the oversized cotton T-shirt you threw on hours ago, half-wishing he wonât come, half knowing he already grabbed his keys the second he saw your name on his screen. The house is quietâ unnervingly so. The twinsâ rooms down the hall glow with the soft hum of their nightlights, a tiny universe of stars spinning lazily on their walls.
You shouldnât be doing this.
Not after the divorce. Not three months into pretending youâre okay. Not when your kids are asleep and your heart still behaves like he lives here. Not when it already took so much courage asking for divorce in the first place only for you to fall into this mess so easily.
But then you hear it: the faint rattle of the back door unlocking.
Your breath catches.
Rafe slips inside like heâs done a hundred times already, he doesn't enter like he lives here anymore, he sneaks in like a squatter. His hoodie is still unzipped, hair messy like heâd been running his hands through it nonstop. Or maybe he had been asleep. Maybe you woke him. You can't really recognize his expression when it comes to sleeping anymore, you haven't actually slept next to him for a full night in three months now.
He doesnât turn on the lights. He doesnât need to, it feels cohesive, everything around you two is dark. It has been for a long time.
He finds you in the dim kitchen, the moonlight cutting across him like heâs half-shadow, waiting to disappear whenever you're not looking or hanging there while being so scarily looking.
You hate the way desire slides into your veins the moment you get to have a good glimpse of his eyes. Still so blue.
Neither of you speak.
He takes a slow step forward, gauging whether youâll flinch.
You donât.
Your heartbeat is loud in your earsâ so loud he probably hears it. The look on his face make you believe he does.
Rafe takes a look at you, analyzing your face. âHey." He whispers finally once he was done admiring you in the darkness of the room.
The word is soft, hesitant, nothing like the confident, stubborn man you once loved out loud. Thereâs something broken in the syllable, something that cracks straight down the center of your ribs. Something that maybe you would've defined as butterflies a year ago just because you wanted to hold on.
His eyes trace your face like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he blinks.
You swallow. Not scared, not exactly nervous but with an immense level of adrenaline and longing in your body. âHi.â You whisper back.
And then that familiar current slips between you, thick and magnetic, pulling you together like the months apart never happened. His hand liftsâ a question, not an answer like the way he used to own the place. His fingers brush your cheek, and you let him.
Just like that, the dam breaks and the unstoppable water that is represented by desire comes by roughly.
You grab the front of his hoodie, pulling him into you. His breath stutters as his forehead drops to yours, the kind of closeness that once felt like home and now feels like trespassing.
When he kisses you, itâs not greedy.
Itâs soul-splitting. The kind of kiss that feels like old promises resurfacing.
Itâs slow for just a moment, like heâs memorizing the exact pressure it takes to make you exhale against his mouth.
He presses you against the kitchen island, squeezing your hips like they own him money. Acting like he's going to make you pay for the amount of sleep he has been losing over you.
He pressed your body against his, chest to chest. And the sound he makes is small, relieved, devastating.
He presses his lips to yoursâ slow, cautious, reverent. You grab the front of his hoodie, pulling him harder against you, and he exhales into your mouth like heâs been holding his breath for weeks.
The kiss deepens. Soft becomes hungry, hungry becomes desperate. His cold hands slide under your shirt, cold fingers skimming warm skin, expert and experienced. A shiver rolls through you. You arch into him involuntarily, and the corner of his mouth curves against your cheek like he felt itâ like he needed to feel it.
When your breath catches, he murmurs: âIâve missed you." against your neck.
You donât answer. He knew you wouldn't. But it makes your knees weaken.
Then, it's fast and needy. You gasp and Rafe takes the opportunity to let his tongue inside your mouth. One of your hands slips to his jaw, thumb skimming the stubble there, and he tilts his head deeper into your touch like he canât help himself.
He lifts you slightly, enough to slide you further onto the counter so youâre perched on the edge. You gasp, grabbing the back of his hoodie to steady yourself, but heâs already thereâ hands braced on your thighs, pushing them open just enough to step between them.
His hands skim up your back beneath your shirt again, tracing your spine, drawing you flush against him. Every point of contact is too much and not enough all at once.
He makes you cold and hot at the same time, you feel like running a fever.
He tugged you closer with a strong arm around your waist when he had enough of you in the island. He puts you down, softly sliding you off.
You pull him through the quiet house as you tug his shirt, tiptoeing past the kidsâ rooms, holding your breath every time the floor creaks. The two of you moving in a practiced, guilty silence. Heâs right behind you, one hand at your back, his touch as familiar as the framed photos you still havenât taken down from the hallway. And he's still kissing you: your lips, your neck, your cheeks.
You end up in your bedroom.
Or what used to be your bedroom.
And you don't bother with the lamp. You let the dark be the only judge of your sins tonight, you don't have the courage to see what he will look like underneath the cruel light. You're afraid he might see a lot.
Your clothes disappear in the dark. Rafe laments not getting to see more of your body with the clarity he's been lacking lately.
Rafe kisses you like heâs starving, like he can't wait to get more of this. You kiss him like youâre trying to forget why this canât last.
You fall into the bed, the sheets cool beneath your back, his body warm above you. He moves with a tenderness he never had before the divorceâ as if loving you gently is the only way he knows to apologize for failing.
One of your arms goes around his neck as your other hand slowly drags down his chest, touching every single muscle that tenses under the touch of your fingertips. He's squeezing your hips with impatience.
But he doesn't push. He's afraid you may back up if he does something you suddenly don't agree with. His eyes follow your hand, eagerly tracing down the path you're doing.
Rafe looks desperate, he's almost pleading for you to do something. His eyebrows are saying what his mouth isn't: please.
A witty finger ends up on the elastic of his expensive boxers, you tug from it, making the fabric snap against his V-line. His eyes flicker back at you with an accusing look. "C'mon," He groans.
You only smirk, the smile is no stranger for you in these kinds of situations. It's a familiar walk. "Someone's excited." You say, arching your back and making your mouth closer to his after noticing the bulge on his underwear. Teasing.
And he likes it. The exasperated chuckle that comes out of him is a tell, but the way he slowly rolls his hips to touch you is also one. "Don't make me wait, sweetheart." He said in that low tone you've never been able to resist, teeth tracing your jaw with a knife-like precision. He's restless, waiting for you to give him the time of the day.
One of your hands slides over Rafe's waist as you pull him closer, his skin is hot underneath your fingers, so eager to be touched. "Don't call me that." You scolded, falling into the usual banter in between a heated moment.
Rafe lets you pull him downâ lets your hands roam over his chest, the heat of him pressing into you like heâs been starved.
But the second your nails drag down his abs, that smirk creeps back.
"Donât call you what?" he rumbles, lowering his face until his lips hover just above yours. "Sweetheart?" Another roll of his hips. "Princess?"
His voice dropsâ rougher, darker. But it breaks at the end, imploring.
"Baby..." It rolls off his tongue so easily.
He says it like a secret. Like this is the only time heâs allowed to say it anymore. Like he can no longer take it.
And then âwithout waitingâ he crushes his mouth to yours, one hand fisting in your hair while the other drags down your body like claiming territory again.
You called him here. But he'll be damned if he's not the one taking control over this.
Your hand reached out to grab his boxers, wanting to jank them off him without a second to be wasted. He catches your hand mid-air, fast, and pins it above your head with one grip, eyes still locked on the bra you've put on only for him tonight.
The tables turn.
He fixes you with just one look of his eyes, making sure you stay still. "Slow down," He growls, voice thick like smoke. "Let me look."
His thumb drags slow across the lace-covered swell of your breast, then lower, just enough to tease, before tracing back up to the strap.
Your eyes remain on him, on the way his eyes scan over you, as if trying to find something different since the last time he got to see you like this. You look just as breathtaking.
He helps you take off your bra, finally letting him have his favorite view after weeks of not getting you. Rafe has been desperate and it's almost painful how he tries to hide it down.
He kisses and kisses. He treats the swell of your tits gently, giving them the attention he knows you have been craving. He kneads with his hand the one he's not kissing, making sure it's just as stimulated. He sucked your nipples, looking up at you the entire time while doing it.
His big hand drifted down your abdomen, touching with his calloused fingertips, so rough and warm at the same time. It's the touch you know you'll never get tired of. It used to be a blessing, now it's an unbreakable curse that'll follow you for the rest of your life.
He finally curled a finger around your panties. They're sticky with arousal once he takes them off.
"All that just f'me? So nice, baby. Thank you..." Rafe taunted with a smirk, as if he's actually surprised by what he's seeing. You don't answer, a sigh comes out of you as you bite your lower lip, propping your hips up to get some of his touch. "Now, calm down..." He chuckled.
You don't know why is he wasting so much time on teasing you. His mouth has always been one of Rafe's traits that brings you to absolute bliss or drags you to hell. You don't think you have the actual patience he's asking you for when he hovers over you, his breath hitting over your wetness is making you lose your mind.
"Rafe..." You let out with exasperation. He's kissing your thighs, feeling the flesh as if he's coming back home. "We can'tâ don't tease." You grunt, feeling pressured by the moonlight over you that hangs up in the sky with watchful eyes, as if she knows you shouldn't be doing this.
"You're so bossy, has anyone told you that?" Rafe teases again with a triumphant smile on his face. "I'll give it you, don't worry." He eases the tension by touching you with two fingers as he takes off his underwear, freeing his thickness. His cock glistening and throbbing with need.
"You better take it, then." He says, promising. Threatening.
And he doesn't make you wait much longer, with a preventing hand over your mouth, he pushes deep inside, tearing you open so widely. A moan is immediately let out of your mouth, ripping and heartbreaking.
Rafe sighs, groaning under his breath when he feels your warmth all around him. "Fuck..." He takes a moment to recompose before looking back at you. His chest is weighting with recognition. "Shh..." He asks you, leaning closer to get to your eye level.
His strong and dominant facade breaks just for a moment when he starts moving, thrusting into you with all the passion he has never been able to held back for you.
You try to keep quiet, so badly, but it's so hard when Rafe fucks into you like this. Like he means it, like every slam of his skin against yours is a word.
You wrap your legs around his waist and he grips one of your legs, trying to pull you somehow closer, trying to push deeper into you.
"Rafeâ" You gasp his name, voice shattering with the way his cock is driving into you.
Oh. Jesus.
You almost made him come right there.
The way you felt, what you said⌠It's so fucking hard to see you like this and not feel the way he feels about you.
He was so far from in control right now it wasn't even funny.
Rafe leaned over you, arms pressed into the mattress on either sides of your head, face burying into your neck as he fought the urge to just take. He could. You were his. In every single way.
"You don't know what you do to me," He growled against your neck with frustration. "What I go through⌠trying to stay away when all I want is you."
His words were just as strong as the way he was fucking you. His cock was relentless on you and you don't know for how much longer you can take it.
"Yeah?" You manage to get some attitude back. Satisfied that you only get him like this.
Rafe smiles at the tone, tilting his head. "You already know it, baby. No pussy like this one." He accentuated his statement with a hard thrust.
The attitude breaks and you can't give him other than cries for his name when he does that. And he doesn't want anything else, either. "Rafeâ fuck..." You choked, a little louder than expected, closing your eyes and overwhelmed in pleasure.
He quickly covered your mouth again, taking away the liberty he had just given you. But he loved it.
Rafe growled at the sound âmuffled, sweet, desperateâ and it went straight to his head like a drug.
"Quiet." He ordered, voice low and rough as he pulled back just enough to make you feel the loss before snapping his hips forward againâslow but deep. "Now, open your eyes for me."
You whimpered but obeyed, opening your eyes just enough to met his through the dark room.
There it wasâ that look he lived for.
Dazed. Devoted. Ruined.
"Yeah, you love it, huh?" He has a devil smirk, one you have seen way too many times to know how satisfied he is with himself. "Pussy's so good... She's always so nice for me," Rafe complimented.
Rafeâs hand slid from your hip up your ribcage until he caught your neckâ holding you in place as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent.
"You take me so good," He muttered, breath ragged now. "So damn perfect⌠my woman, all mineâŚ"
He pulls out without a warning, grabbing you by the waist and turning you around before you had any time to process, leaving you on your stomach against the mattress. "All fours, c'mon." He commanded.
You feel his palm drag over the curve of your ass, warm and steady. The pet name is right there on the tip of his tongue âyou can hear it in the way he exhalesâ but youâve long passed the point of pretending it bothers you.
âRafe, Iâ I canâtââ You start, half annoyed, half breathless.
He laughs under his breath, the kind of laugh that knows exactly how this is about to go. âYeah, you can,â he says, nudging your knees apart with his own. âYouâve done it a million times. Donât start acting shy on me now.â
He taps your ass once with his cock, a gentle, impatient cue.
You give in, settling onto your hands and knees. When you look back at him over your shoulder, biting your lip out of pure reflex, he seems to lose the last bit of patience he had. He pushes into you again, slow but deep, and the sound you make is embarrassingly immediate.
Your elbows buckle, and you let your upper body sink into the mattress.
"Careful," He warned, chuckling as he pulled your hair to lift your face out of the pillows.
His hand was gentle at your throat, tilting your chin back to look up at him, to make sure you knew who you had to look back to.
"Wanna watch that pretty face." He murmured, his hips still rocking in a slow, steady rhythm. "See those pretty eyes looking back at me when you fall apart. That's a sight a man could get addicted to, doll."
And you can only melt into his words, feeling the way your body was falling helplessly into the imminent pleasure he provides you with.
Your hands are shaking, grabbing the arms he has around you, looking for something to hold onto. You feel your tits bouncing with each hard thrust he gives you. "Rafe, please..." You asked for some mercy, feeling the way your legs started to tremble.
"Ahâ Jesus Christ." Rafe growled, breath catching in his throat. It was almost too much.
His hand wandered down your tits and back up again, fingers tracing every line of them until he reached your hip for something more rough and possessive, his other hand tightening on your neck as he held you firm against him.
A silent warning.
Your back is pressed again his hard chest, sweat only making it harder to separate.
He eases your movements with a steady hand on your hip, squeezing the flesh, reflecting the contained desire. He clenches his jaw again when he feels you clenching around him. "You're gonna kill me..." He mutters. But he knows you're close, he can practically touch your orgasm. "Cum for me, gorgeous. You want it." He assured.
"Oh, Rafe..." Your voice wavers between quiet and loud, trying to keep yourself together as he hits that spot that makes your whole body jolt. Youâre so close it hurts.
Rafe hears it instantlyâ the way your breath catches, the way your hips twitch. âI know, baby,â He says, voice dropping. He shifts behind you, bracing one arm around your middle as your weight leans into him.
One hand slid between your legs againâ thumb pressing slow and hard right where you needed it. His hips snapped up rougher, chasing that perfect angle.
Your mouth falls open in a soundless gasp.
He could finish like this. You can tell.
But he wonât. Because Rafe Cameron always made sure his woman cummed before he did anything else.
The coil in your stomach snaps hard, your breath shattering as your whole body jerks against him. The orgasm hits fast and sharp, rolling through you in waves that make your knees go weak.
Rafe holds you upright, arms locked around you as you shake through it, his mouth at your shoulder whispering. âThere you go... I got you.â
Your hand flies to your mouth on instinct, but he beats you thereâ covering it with his palm, possessive, quieting you. Jealously making sure that he can be the only one who listens to you.
He keeps moving through your release, his thrusts shorter, more desperate now. Your body pulses around him, and thatâs all it takesâ his breath stutters, his abdomen tightening hard against your back.
âFuckââ He chokes out against your ear.
His hand slips up to your chest, grabbing a breast and squeezing, thumb brushing over your nipple like he canât help himself. You melt into the touch, still trembling.
He presses in deep one last time, groaning low into your shoulder as he finally comes. His body jerks, his hips stutter, and you feel the warmth flood you in slow, pulsing waves. His grip tightens around your ribcage, like he needs to hold onto something real while he unravels.
He stays there, breathing hard against your neck, not letting you go. His fingers trace your waist, your hip, your stomachâ leaving little marks, reminders.
You stay for a moment, both of you catching your breath, bodies still joined, the room unbearably quiet except for the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing.
Rafe finally loosens his arms, but not all the way. He presses his forehead to the back of your shoulder, grounding himself. âShit,â He mutters, voice rough.
He slowly eases out of you, one hand steadying your hips when your legs wobble. You feel warm and sore and completely undone and so guilty.
You hum at the lost of him, feeling empty for a few seconds before you gave into his arms. He pulls you down on the bed again, making you rest your head against the pillows.
You swallow with a lump in your throat. Shit, you think. Why do you keep falling into this over and over again? You shouldn't feel so damn guilty, you were the one who called him this time around. You have to take the responsibility for that.
And you do. And God, it's so heavy. It makes you feel like your heart has fallen on your stomach. You got a feeling its been living there for a while now.
Rafe wraps an arm around you. He knows he won't stay, you never stay with each other for long after your encounters. Boundaries, you call it.
But he doesnât expect this.
He doesnât expect the way you shift away when he presses absentminded kisses along your armâ soft, apologetic touches over the spots heâd gripped so hard minutes earlier. Heâs used to comforting you after sex, itâs the one part of this whole thing thatâs never felt strange.
"What's wrong?" Rafe murmured, trying to read you. Heâs gotten worse at it these past monthsâ every time he thinks he knows what youâre feeling, heâs wrong. He's overly disappointed every time.
You donât look at him. Your throat works in a dry swallow, breath unsteady. "I..." Your breath shakes. "Everything." You admit.
You sit up, pulling the sheets over your chestâ something youâve never bothered to do around him, a protective gesture you've never had to do. The shift is small, but the meaning punches him harder than anything youâve said.
"We can't keep doing this."
Rafe's not surprised. He hasn't been surprised at any negative thing you tell him lately. He expects it.
âRight.â His voice is rougher than he means for it to be. He clears his throat and pushes himself upright.
And Rafe doesn't hold it against you. He doesn't hold it against you that you were the one who called him today, that you were the one who kissed him first. And he won't hold it against you if you want to end it.
He wonât hold it against you if you want to end it.
He knew this⌠whatever the hell it is⌠had an expiration date. He walked into it anyway because he wanted the last pieces of you he could get.
He liked the thought that every time you called him it was because you still needed him and when he called you and you came, it was because you still cared.
But he didn't expect it tonight. He thought you both could get away with these toxic events a few more times before you called it off.
And Rafe won't lie anymore. It's starting to hurt a lot. The pull and take is so tiring. The constant getting closer to each other only to be shattered seconds later. He can only take so much when it comes to you.
Youâre sitting there with the sheet clutched to your chest like armor, staring at some point on the wallâ anywhere but at him. And over the past year of his life, Rafe doesn't know which sight of you has been more devastating. He knows he's tired of seeing them.
Rafe exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. âDid I⌠do something?â He hates how his heart was asking him to ask.
You shake your head instantly. âNo. Itâs not⌠itâs not about that.â Your fingers twist in the sheets, anxiously. âItâs about us. About what weâre doing. It's wrong."
He frowns again. Rafe knows that what you've been doing for the past three months isn't healthy or what it's supposed to be done after a divorce, he knows you've always been out of the norm. "It's not wrong, alright?" He tries to make it seem less terrible.
He gets closer. "We're adapting, it's been fucking hard." Rafe clenched his jaw, speaking like you're personally offending both of you, as if he can't bare listen to you talking about the two of you like that.
You close your eyes, because the defensiveness in his tone hurts. Like he's such a believer. âRafe, weâre divorced. Weâre supposed to be moving on. Notââ You gesture vaguely between your bodies. "Not getting stuck in this loop.â
He lets out a humorless breath. âI know weâre divorced. Trust me, Iâm reminded of it every damn day.â The sarcasm and irritation drips off his words like honey, he can't help it. It's touching a nerve.
That makes your shoulders tense, but you donât turn around.
âAnd the kids...â You whisper, sinking your face in between your hand as you think about them. âIf they ever caught on⌠or if someone saw usââ
âThey wonât.â He cuts in, too quickly. Too defensive.
âRafe...â You say, finally looking over your shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, tired.
And the pleading in your eyes make him feel so cruel. He never expected to feel like an actual villain ever in his life. He never expected causing you this level of pain, he doesn't know what to do with it.
So he gives in, he can't be the reason you keep hurting. You've been doing it for years now, all because of him. "No, yeah. You'reâ you're right." He says, stiff and hard as he pushes up from the bed, getting his clothes.
"It's for the better." He repeats. This isn't what Rafe wanted, but if this is his new world, might as well try to make it work.
You watch the way he gets dressed, letting your eyes tear apart every detail. You memorize the muscles of his back, knowing it'll be the last time you see them. You watch the way his arm are tense when he puts on his shirt again.
But you look away when he turns around, pretending you weren't looking. Rafe turns, breath still uneven from everything the two of you said. His eyes flick to your face, then drop right back down to the floor like heâs afraid of the damage he might cause if he looks too long.
You tighten the sheet around yourself, pulling your knees up, trying to make yourself small. Not because you fear him (you never have) but because you fear the ache clawing its way up your chest.
He drags a hand through his hair once, like heâs trying to reset himself, but nothing resets anymore. Not with you.
He picks up his keys from the floor. The familiar clink sounds final.
Rafe takes one slow breath and forces himself to speak.
âHey,â He says quietly. Not sharp. Not defensive. Not anything heâs been for the last ten minutes but still just as meaningful. âLook at me for a sec.â
You do. Hesitantly.
His gaze softensâ not enough to make this easier, just enough to make you want to crawl out of your own skin.
âIâm notââ He stops, swallows, tries again. âIâm not gonna use this against you. Any of it. Not now, not later⌠not ever.â His words are short, almost. As if he was ashamed that he has to be saying this.
You blink hard. Confused. âRafe, I know, I justââ
âNo,â He interrupts, but gently. âI mean it. Donât worry about me pulling some shit in the future. This stays between us. All of it.â
He pauses. His jaw works once like heâs wrestling something down. He can't leave without you knowing he means it. He would never, ever hurt you like that. He would never hurt you with the times you trusted your body and mind on him.
Your eyes sting, and you look down again because if you keep looking at him, youâll break.
Rafe takes a few steps closer: cautious, like heâs approaching something fragile. He stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, smell his cologne mixed with sweat and the remnants of what you were doing minutes ago.
He doesnât touch you at first. He just⌠waits. Gives you a moment to pull back if you want.
He visibly relaxes when you don't.
So he leans down slowly, bending at the waist, and cups the sides of your face, letting his big hands go all the way to your hair, tangling in it and remembering the touch for one last time.
"Don't worry." Rafe whispered. It might seem like something so minimal and obvious, but he knows your view of him has deformed so much over the past two years together, he wouldn't be surprised if you thought like that of him. He can't let you go with such a damaging image of him.
You nod, barely as your eyes are locked on him.
Rafe hesitates only once. Then he presses his lips to your forehead. Not rushed, not casual, not something he should be doing, but he does it anyway.
You close your eyes at the contact, squeezing them shut as tears fill your entire vision. A single tear falls down your cheek, and for the first time, Rafe doesn't clean it up.
He lingers a second longer than he should, breathing against your skin. When he pulls back, it feels like something is being ripped, not removed.
He steps away.
You keep your eyes on the sheet in your lap.
Itâs the only thing that doesnât feel like itâs falling apart.
Rafe heads toward the door, hoodie in hand. He stops with his fingers on the handle, shoulders tense, as if thereâs one more thing he wants to say. But he doesn't say anything else, he's not allowed to say what he wants anymore.
You don't have to tell him to be quiet, you know he will be. You know he won't dare to break the peace you've been able to settle on the house now that he's gone.
But as you watch his figure disappear behind the door once he closes it, you can't help but let out a heartbreaking sob. One that lets out the pain you've been feeling every time you let him go. The way he takes a piece of you with him every time you part now.
It's been so hard to settle with the reality of having to live with his absence. He has never shined brighter in your life, in all your time together and it makes you skin crawl with irritation. You're so angry at him for it, you're so angry for allowing this to happen over and over again.
And you're so angry you didn't work out.
But this is the reality now. This is the last time you let him in your door. This is the last time you let the hurt come in between you.
virgin!rafe whoâs too big so when he does it with reader it feels like sheâs suffocating him and heâs all dazed and drunk off it.
virgin bsf!rafe being pussy drunk
omg i absolutely LOVE this idea!! pussy drunk rafe is so hottt
warnings â sub!rafe x dom!reader dynamic, unprotected sex, lewd language
banner by @/dollywons âĄ
ditzyrafeâs masterlist | request smth! (rules)
the moment he pushes inside you, rafe's entire world narrows to a single, overwhelming sensation: tightness. it's not just friction; it feels like your body is actively trying to consume him, gripping his entire length in a hot, slick, impossibly snug embrace. he groans, a low, guttural sound torn from deep in his chest.
he tries to move, to establish some kind of rhythm, but his initial thrusts are clumsy, jerky. it feels like trying to push through velvet, a delightful, almost suffocating resistance that sends jolts of pure pleasure straight to his brain. your own sharp inhales and soft whimpers are distant sounds, filtered through the roaring in his ears.
"fuck," he pants, the word a reverent whisper against your skin. "you're⌠so tight. i can't⌠can't think."
he feels dazed, drunk on the sensation. his usual sharp focus is gone, replaced by a hazy, almost primal need. he closes his eyes, trying to centre himself, but it only intensifies the feeling of being held, gripped, swallowed by your heat. every muscle in your body seems to clench around him, milking him, teasing him, pushing him closer to an edge he didn't realise was so near.
he pulls back slightly, then pushes in again, a slow, almost reverent exploration. the feeling of his thick head stretching your inner walls before being enveloped again is almost too much. he feels utterly possessed by you, by the sheer, perfect fit of your bodies. his hips start to move on their own, a desperate, seeking rhythm, no longer guided by though, but by pure, overwhelming sensation.
"god, you feel so good," he gasps out, his forehead pressed against yours, sweat beading on his skin. "i'm⌠i'm gonnaâŚ"
he doesn't even finish the sentence. the constant, suffocating pressure is too much for his inexperienced body to handle. with a final, desperate thrust, his orgasm rips through him, hot and fast, a building release that leaves him shuddering violently, still buried deep inside you. he collapses onto you, completely spent, his mind a blissful, empty haze, utterly wrecked and intoxicated by the simple, overwhelming feeling of being inside you.
"fuck⌠i wanna feel you milk me dry like that again."
How about a FF where Harry's secret girlfriend has to watch him fake a pr relationship with someone else? Like: a lot of angst, a lot of drama đ¤
Your wish is my command!
Only Yours
Pairing: Harry x stylist!reader
Warnings: Angst (but fear not, it ends in fluff), insecurities.
Word count: 5k
A/N: Picture taken from Pinterest. Credit to owners! Also, I wrote most of this under the influence of coffee and lack of sleep, and reading it again, I feel like some parts are kind of sloppy, but I'm too lazy to rewrite them. Pardon the mistakes! And if you like it, pls lmk! Happy reading!
The hotel room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater and the faint click of Harry's boots against the hardwood floor. Y/N was lounging on the couch, watching a movie, when Harry snuck into her room.
âFinally,â he murmurs as he kicks his shoes off and joins her on the couch, burying his face into her neck and breathing her in. She giggles at his antics, hugging him closer.
âHow long was the meeting?,â she asks.
âLonger than necessary,â he mutters, words coming out muffled.
âI just wanna have some time with my girl now,â he says, lifting his head from her neck and pecking her on the lips softly.
Harry and Y/N had been secretly dating for six months now. She had been on his team as his stylist for a couple of years , and while theyâd started out as good friends, their relationship had quietly shifted into something more. No one knew about them, everyone only thought they were close friends, and for now, they decided to keep it that way.
For Harry, sneaking into her room at night was easy. Their rooms were near each other since she was his stylist, and it gave them little moments of privacy they couldnât risk in public.
Harry had just come back from a long, exhausting meeting with his management, who informed him that he and Chloe Miller, the model he was in a PR relationship with, would be attending an upcoming event together.
Y/N understood the nature of his job, and she never wanted to be the reason he said no to an opportunity. So when he told her about the PR stunt before it started, she smiled and said she was fine with it. But inside, it stung. Watching another woman drape herself around the man she loved wasnât something she could ever truly get used to, no matter how much she told herself it was just for show.
He peppered kisses all over her face and pecked her lips again and again till she pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. He groaned into her mouth, pulling her up and onto him like she was straddling him. His hands started roaming all over her body and underneath her sleep shirt, while hers was all over his neck and jaw. Finally, they broke apart for air with a gasp, and smiled at each other, eyes warm and full of love.
âHiâ
âHi,â she giggles.
âWanna take this to the bedroom?,â he asks, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, dimples deepening across his cheeks.
Harry gently pushes her onto the mattress and takes off his shirt, crawling over her with a look on his face that can only be described as yearning and hunger.
âGod you're perfectâŚI must be the luckiest man alive,â he groans, situating himself between her thighs and running his hands over the slopes and curves of her body.
His eyes lock with hers with a look of pure lust,
âRelax baby, and let me have a tasteâŚâ
As he is pulling down her panties, his phone rings on the nightstand.
âDon't pick it up,â she tells him.
âWasn't planning to,â he smirks, pulling it off of her.
But when it rings again and again, he stops for a second.
âHold on, baby,â he gets up, âmight be important, or why would they call this many times?,â he murmurs as he reaches for the phone.
âOh..,â he says, surprised,âIt's Chloeâ and picks up the phone. Harry doesn't see the way her face falls.
âHello? Yeah⌠um yeah no I'm in the hotelâ, he stutters over his words.
âYeah I'm not in the room because I am at Y/Nâs room right nowâŚto⌠yeah discuss some matters about the gala. Yeah, she's my stylist,â
The word sliced through Y/N sharper than in should have. Stylist. Not the person whose hands had been in his hair seconds ago, not the person he kissed again and again like his life depended on it. Just a title that explained away her presence in his life.
She turns her face away, blinking hard, because deep down, she knows that he is just trying to protect their secret, only playing the part that the contract forced him into, but God it stung.
He hangs up the phone and turns to look at her with an apologetic look on his face,
âBaby, I'm so sorry but I have to get back to my room right now. Turns out Chloe is outside my room, said there was something to be discussed urgentlyâ
She pulls her shirt down and sits up, trying to mask her disappointment.
âIt's alright, H, you gotta do what you gotta doâ
âI'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll be back after the discussion, it must be about the Gala.â
âWhat Gala?,â she asks.
âYeah, about that. That's what the management called me for earlier today. They want me and Chloe to go together. It's the day after tomorrow, I think Jeff will send you the details soon,â he tells her, eyes nervously searching for any discomfort on her face. Even if she did, she masked it so well that he couldn't see the hurt on her face.
âOh. Alright,â her tone was clipped and she couldn't even look him in the eye.
âSweetheart, I'll make this up to you, I promise,â a lingering kiss on her forehead, and he was gone.
When Harry reached his room, Chloe was already waiting, arms folded as though she owned the hallway. Suppressing a sigh, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside just enough for her to sweep in first. He followed behind, jaw tight.
âWhat did you need to talk about?â he asks flatly, already eager to wrap this up and get back to his girl.
Chloe turns, leaning casually against the dresser, her lips curving into a practiced smile. âOh, nothing major. I just wanted to go over the details for our Gala appearance.â She let her gaze flick deliberately over him, her voice dipping into something sultry. âHow do you want to play it? Should we go all out,lots of PDA?â
âI think I made it clear with Jeff that I don't wanna do that in public?,â he says, voice clipped.
âOh that he told me, but I was wondering if we should, you know, take it up a notch,â Chloe was relentless.
Harry clenched his teeth, forcing himself to endure Chloeâs drawn-out chatter as she circles him with hypothetical scenarios, her hand brushing his arm once too often. Every minute she dragged it on felt heavier, guilt pressing harder against his ribs. He could still see his girlâs face in his mind, the way sheâd tugged at his hair with a teasing smile when they were tangled up on her bed, only to watch disappointment cloud her eyes when his phone buzzed.
Chloe was relentless, spinning her web of fake smiles and faux intimacy, refusing to let the conversation die. Harry's patience thinned until finally, he cut her off with a clipped, âIâll see you at the Gala,â and guided her to the door before she could prolong it any further.
The hallway was silent when he slipped back toward his girlfriendâs room, his chest aching with regret. He turned the knob quietly, the soft glow of her bedside lamp still on. She was curled up on her side, breathing slow and even, sleep claiming her long before he returned.
Harry lingered in the doorway, guilt settling heavy in his chest. He padded over, careful not to wake her, and pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders. His hand hovered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered, the words catching in his throat. âDidnât want it to be like this.â
She didnât stir, and Harry pressed a kiss to her temple, sliding into the empty space beside her. Wrapping an arm gently around her waist, he held her close, eyes closing with a silent vow that heâd do better, whatever it took.
The early hours of morning crept in too fast. Harry lay awake for most of the night, arms wrapped around her, but the weight of his schedule pressed down before dawn. His phone buzzed endlessly with reminders and calls waiting to be returned, and he knew if he didnât get moving, the day would swallow him whole.
He pressed one last kiss to her hair, careful not to stir her, and slipped out of the bed. The door closed with a soft click, leaving her sleeping peacefully, unaware.
When sunlight finally spilled through the curtains, she stirred, reaching out instinctively for him, only to find cool sheets and empty space. Her chest tightened. Had he even come back at all?
The day unraveled into silence. Harry was caught in back-to-back meetings, his phone buzzing nonstop, his manager tugging him from one obligation to the next. Messages went unanswered, and stolen glances down hallways never lined up. By the time he finally returned to the hotel, exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders, her room was empty. She probably might have gone to pick up the clothes for the Gala the next day, he thought.
He opened his phone to see if there were any texts from her, but there were none.
He walks into his bedroom, and plops onto his bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. He was exhausted.
Y/N came back late, after going with Chloeâs stylist, to pick up the fits for the Gala. She was still a bit angry and sad that he blew her off like that. She went to his room after freshening up and when nobody answered the bell, she went back to her room.
The next morning, Harry woke up early to surprise Y/N with breakfast. He was still full of apologies for standing her up the night before, and although Y/N had been a little hurt, she brushed it off and forgave him. Not long after, Harry had to rush out, but they agreed to meet later that afternoon in his room to get ready for the gala. Since Y/N was his stylist, it was her job to come by after the hair and make-up team left to make sure he was properly dressed and prepared.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt, while Y/N fussed with the knot of his tie. The hotel room was warm with the late afternoon sun, golden light spilling through the curtains, but there was a heaviness in the air she couldnât shake.
Harry never cared for ties or pressed suits, but he always let her be the one to fix them. As if letting her touch was the last thing grounding him before he disappeared into a different world.
On the dresser, his phone buzzed. The sound was innocuous, but her eyes flicked toward it. One unread message, bold and bright on the screen:
Chloe: Ready to be my arm candy tonight? đ
Y/Nâs chest tightened. She quickly looked away, fingers tightening on the silk knot sheâd just adjusted.
Harry noticed. His hand came up, curling around her wrist, gentle but firm. âHey.â
Y/N forced a small smile, trying to keep her voice light. âYou should answer her. Donât want to keep your date waiting.â
âDonât.â His voice dropped, steady, almost pleading. âDonât call her that. Sheâs not my date.â
Her throat ached. âIsnât she?â
Harry let out a sharp exhale, the kind he always did when he wanted to argue but didnât want to snap at her. He pressed his forehead briefly against hers, tie forgotten, his thumb brushing along the inside of her wrist.
She wanted to believe him. She did. But that didnât erase the fact that in less than an hour, another woman would be on his arm. Another womanâs laugh would ring in his ear. Another woman would be smiling at him for the cameras while the world cheered.
Her hands slipped from his chest. âI know.â
Harry tilted her chin up until her eyes met his. âNo, you donât. Not the way I want you to.â His gaze was earnest, the kind of look that always made her heart trip. âYouâre the only one I go home to. The only one who matters. Donât let that screen change whatâs real.â
Her eyes stung, but she forced a nod. âGo. Youâll be late.â
He lingered, clearly torn between obligation and the need to stay, before finally bending to press his lips to her forehead. It wasnât a rushed kiss, but it carried a weight that made her chest ache, like a promise, or maybe like a goodbye.
When the door clicked shut behind him, the silence that followed was deafening.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the comforter. Her chest tightened with something she hated admitting even to herself: dread.
The logical part of her whispered reminders, that itâs fake, itâs business, itâs not real, but her heart tangled itself in images she didnât want to imagine. Harry smiling for the cameras. Harry's hand claimed by someone elseâs grip. Harry laughing at something whispered against his ear.
Her phone buzzed. A notification banner lit up the lock screen: âLive now: Red Carpet Coverage for the Gala, Harry Styles and girlfriend in attendance!â
She swallowed, thumb hovering over the screen before she tapped it.
The livestream opened with a blare of soundâreporters calling names, camera shutters firing in rapid bursts, fans screaming from behind barricades.
And there he was.
Harry stepped out of the car in his sharp black suit, taller than anyone around him, a practiced smile tugging at his mouth. The crowd roared, flashing lights strobing across his face.
Her heart fluttered in her throat at the sight of him, so familiar and yet so distant, as if heâd stepped into a different world the second he crossed that carpet.
And then she appeared. Chloe, shimmering in a golden gown, makeup done right and eyes shining bright as she looped her arm through his like she belonged there.
The crowd went wild.
Harry didnât flinch, didnât falter. He played his role, steady and composed. His smile stayed even, his hand settling politely over hers. To anyone watching, it looked natural. Perfect.
Y/N tried to remind herself: itâs fake, itâs fake, itâs fake. But the screen made it look so real, her laugh against his shoulder, her lips pressing just shy of the corner of his mouth, his hand caught in hers as if it had always belonged there.
Her stomach twisted.
On Twitter, the clip was already trending. Headlines scrolled across the feed at dizzying speed:
âHarry Styles and Chloe Miller are the Couple of the Night.â
âThat chemistry is undeniable!â
âHarry Styles lighting up the Gala with his girlfriend!â
Y/N shut her phone off, chest hollow.
The silence in the room was louder this time, heavy enough to press against her ribs. She curled into herself on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest.
The livestream ended hours ago, but the images wouldnât leave her mind. They replayed in cruel detail: Harryâs hand at the small of her back, the way she leaned into him, the flashlights catching them in every angle that screamed perfect couple.
She had muted the notifications long ago, but the phone still vibrated across the nightstand, texts, missed calls, messages she couldnât bring herself to open.
She couldnât.
Going back to her own room, she pulled her hoodie tighter around herself and tucked her legs under the blanket. The curtains were still half-open, letting the city lights flicker through, but she didnât move to close them. The stillness pressed down like a weight.
Her chest ached with the thought that maybe the headlines were right. Maybe people would look at those pictures and believe them, not her, not the quiet girl waiting at home while he smiled for the cameras.
Her phone buzzed again. She didnât check it. She couldnât stand to see his name lit up on the screen, not when the images were still raw in her mind.
The hours crawled. Midnight. One. Two. Each creak of the apartment building, each car passing outside, made her heart jump, thinking maybe heâs back, maybe itâs him.
But the door stayed closed.
When sleep finally came, it was restless, her dreams fractured into flashes of red carpet lights and her own reflection in a phone screen she wished sheâd never opened.
A few days had passed since the gala, but the images lingered like a shadow she couldnât shake. Every time her phone buzzed, her chest tightened. She didnât answer most of Harryâs messages anymore. âMiss you.â âCan I come over?â Each one made her stomach twist, she knew he meant it, but she couldnât bring herself to respond. And she knew that he knew something was off because he'd never ask her if he could come to her room otherwise.
Harry had a few more functions- opening of a high end fashion store, another charity Gala and a couple personal things- to attend in that city, after which they'd all go back to theirs. But Y/N was tired of all this.
She kept her distance, replaying in her mind the memory that burned worst of all: Chloe's lips brushing the corner of his mouth, his hand resting on her back just the way he usually held her, the world watching and believing. She told herself it was fake, that he belonged to her, but the image clung to her brain like a warning.
Her shift at the event today hadnât helped. Sheâd gone through the motions, styling other clients, smoothing fabric, adjusting collars, but her heart wasnât in it. Every time she saw him laughing with her, or felt the press of another hand against his arm, she wanted to disappear.
She told the team she wasnât feeling well. Her voice had been flat, the excuse rehearsed, and no one questioned it. She handed her duties to another stylist, trying to smile politely as she left. Harry, bundled in his own preparations, had spotted her and tried to call her back.
âStay,â heâd mouthed across the chaos of hair dryers, chatty assistants, and makeup palettes. But he couldnât step away, not in front of the team, not while cameras and crew were moving in every direction. He had no moment of privacy to plead, to tell her she didnât have to go. And she left.
Walking back to her apartment back home, she hugged her arms around herself. She felt small, erased, as if sheâd already been replaced.
She shut her apartment door behind her, leaned against it, and let herself crumble. Tears pricked at the edges of her vision as the quiet settled around her. Alone, she could admit it: she felt invisible, unworthy, like the world and everyone in it, including Harry, was better off without her.
She lay down on the couch, scrolling briefly through her phone before shutting it off entirely. She didnât want to see messages, didnât want to hear his name. She just wanted to vanish from the chaos of the world that had made her feel so small.
But even in the quiet, a soft ache in her chest reminded her: he was out there, performing, smiling, pretending, and she was stuck here, questioning if love alone could hold them together.
Her eyes closed, but sleep didnât come easily. Every flicker of a notification in her dreams was the ghost of a flashbulb, every whisper of the night air felt like someone leaning in too close.
She didnât know how to fix this, or if it could even be fixed.
Early morning. The pounding on her door jolted Y/N upright, heart hammering like sheâd run a marathon. She sat up, blanket tangled around her legs, trying to steady her breathing.
âWho is it?â she croaked, voice hoarse from crying herself to sleep last night.
âOpen the door.â Harry's voice, low but insistent.
Her stomach flipped. âArenât you supposed to be⌠at the inauguration? Of the store?â
âI got out early,â he said, almost too softly to hear. âPlease, just⌠let me in.â
She hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the lock. When she finally opened the door, he was there, hoodie soaked from the drizzle outside, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. He looked worn down, but his gaze held something sharp,determination, or was it desperation?
âI⌠shouldnâtââ she started.
âShh.â He stepped in before she could finish, shutting the door behind him. âI needed to see you.â
Her arms crossed instinctively. âI told you⌠Iâm fine. You shouldnât even be here.â
âFine?â he echoed, voice tight. âFine is what you told me at the gala, fine is what youâve been saying every day since. Fine is you avoiding me, shutting me out, pretending none of this hurts you. Fine isnât fine.â
Her throat tightened. âItâs none of your business.â
âIt is my business!â he snapped, stepping closer. âI canât just watch you fall apart a little more each day and do nothing.â
âI⌠I canâtâŚâ Her voice faltered. âI canât do this anymore, Harryâ.
âDo what?â His hands twitched at his sides, a mix of frustration and helplessness.
âUs.â The word escaped before she could stop it. âThis-whatever this is- itâs not⌠I donât know what you want, and if youâre not sure, I donât⌠I canât keep letting myself get hurt. I canât pretend itâs okay.â
His jaw tightened. âI am sure!â
âYou are?â Her laugh was hollow, almost bitter. âThen why are you letting all of this happen? Why are you standing there, letting her wrap herself around your arm, smiling like it means something when I know it doesnât, and everyone else believes it?â
âBecause I had to,â he said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. âBecause I didnât think there was another way.â
Her hands trembled at her sides. âThereâs always another way! Thereâs always⌠something else you couldâve done. But you didnât. You accepted it. So maybe, maybe I should just walk away. Maybe I should stop pretending I belong in this at all.â
âYouâre not pretending,â he said sharply. âYouâre not pretending anything!â
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. âI canât compete with her, Harry. Iâm⌠Iâm just me. And Iâm not enough. You⌠you deserve someone like her.â
He froze, like the words had punched him squarely in the chest. âWhat?â
âIâm notâŚfuckâŚjust look at me! Look at us!â Her voice cracked as she gestured between them. âWeâve been together for six months. Friends for years. I donât know what you want, Harry. And if you donât know, then I⌠I canât let you continue this. I canât sit back while everyone else thinks⌠that maybe you should be with her.â
The air between them felt thick enough to choke on. He ran his hands down his face, jaw tight, then pressed them to her shoulders. âYou think I donât want you? You think Iâd choose anyone else over this?â
âThats the thingâŚI⌠I donât know what to think,â she admitted, voice small and raw. âAnd the more I see you with her⌠I feel invisible. I feel like I should just disappear so you can⌠be happy. With her.â
He shook his head, frustration spilling over. âNo! Stop it. Stop talking like that. You are not invisible. You are not replaceable. You are not some⌠some mistake I made.â
Her tears fell freely now. âI canât help how I feel, Harry. I canât help being scared. I donât know if youâre⌠serious. I donât know if you reallyâŚâ She broke off, shaking her head. âI donât even know if I can do this if Iâm constantly afraid that the real âusâ is slipping away while everyone else is watching.â
He cupped her face, thumbs brushing over the wet streaks of mascara. âLook at me.â His voice was low, fierce, urgent. âLook at me. There is no âmaybeâ here. I want you. Iâve never wanted anyone else like this. This, whatever they see out there, is nothing. Youâre the only one I belong to. Youâre the only one I care about, in every way that matters.â
Her body shook with the force of it. âBut⌠the pictures. The gala. The red carpet. I saw-â
âI know,â he interrupted, voice soft but intense. âI hated every second of it. Every. Single. Second. But I do it because I have to. Not because I want to. And the second I can stop, I will. But not a second goes by that I donât wish it was just us, like it is right now. And nothing, nothing that anyone sees, nothing they say, changes that.â
Her tears spilled down her cheeks as she leaned into him, trembling. âI feel like Iâm losing youâŚâ
âYouâre not losing me,â he whispered. âYou canât lose me. I am yours. Always yours. The rest of the world? Let them think what they want. But thisâŚâ He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in. ââŚThis is real. Youâre the only one Iâve got.â
She closed her eyes, letting the weight of the day, the week, the months of fear and doubt finally fall away. The anger, the hurt, the jealousyâthey all melted into the small, steady heartbeat against her chest. She was still scared, but for the first time in days, she believed it could be okay.
He kissed her forehead softly, whispered, âIâm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. And I'm so sorry baby, for letting you believe that for even a second. But please believe me when I say this, you're the only one i wanna love.â
For the first time since the gala, she let herself breathe.
The apartment was quiet. She sat curled against the couch, trembling, tears still damp on her cheeks. Harry knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his, fingers warm and grounding.
âLook at me,â he said softly. âI want you to really look at me.â
She lifted her gaze, red-rimmed eyes meeting his, still uncertain, still fragile.
âI hate that you feel this way,â he continued, voice low, but firm. âI hate that I made you feel this âŚBut none of it, none of it with her was real.Let me show you.â
He pulled out his phone and opened a few texts, scrolling quickly. âNotice this?â He tapped a conversation from Chloe. âUnread. Every single one I never responded to. I didnât answer her because Iâm not hers. I never will be.â
Her lips trembled, her chest tightening.
âLook here,â he said, swiping through images of him at events with her on his arm. âNotice how I always turn my head so she only gets my cheek? Notice how stiff my smiles are? Thatâs not me, not the way Iâm relaxed with you.â
He paused, letting her take it in. âI put on a show for the cameras, for the fans, for their expectation of what they want me to be. But youâŚthis⌠is real. Youâre real. Every laugh, every touch, every late-night conversation, none of that is fake.â
Her voice came out soft, broken. âI⌠I just didnât know how to trust it. I thought I was imagining things, that maybe you wanted⌠I donât knowâŚâ
Harry's hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing over the tracks of her tears. âDo not doubt this. Not for a second. You are the only one I belong to. Only you. Even when the world sees another version, it doesnât matter. Itâs you, always.â
She buried her face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist, and he pulled her fully into his lap. Her tears soaked through his hoodie, but he didnât care. He held her like she might disappear if he didnât.
âIâm talking to Jeff about ending the contract early,â he whispered. âI want it done. I want us free from this nonsense, so we can just⌠be us. I don't want anything if it causes you this much pain.â
She pressed her forehead against his shoulder. âIâm scared, Harry. Scared Iâll lose you, scared itâll happen again.â
âYou wonât,â he murmured, hand resting on the small of her back. âI won't let you feel that way ever again, knowingly or unknowingly. I'm sorry, baby.Just know that I'm with you, always.â
For the first time, she let herself breathe, letting the tension of the last week melt against him.
Hours later, the apartment was dimly lit, blankets draped over them as they lay on the bed. Y/N rested her head on Harry's chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, hands lazily tracing his sleeve.
âI was scared,â she admitted softly, voice muffled against his hoodie. âI was scared of losing you. Of not being⌠enough.â
âYouâll never lose me,â he said, brushing her hair back gently. âEven though weâve only been together for six months, I see a future with you. Iâve never been so sure about anything.â
She looked up, eyes wide. âA future?â
He smiled, soft, tender, brushing a thumb across her cheek. âYeah. A future. And itâs you in it. Not someone else. Not some idea. You. Always you.Forever.â
She pressed a soft kiss to his chest. âForever sounds nice.â
He held her tighter, wrapping both arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. âItâs ours. And I mean it. And I'll spend it proving to you how sorry I am for causing you this much pain and how much I love you. And after all this dies down, we'll go public, I don't wanna hide this anymore. I wanna hold your hand and kiss you anywhere I can and be proud of it, I wanna tell the world that you're mine and I'm yours.â
Her eyes closed, and she finally allowed herself to relax fully, letting the warmth and certainty wash over her. Even with the chaos and fear, even with the PR games and the fake smiles, she felt safe. She belonged here, in his arms, in that moment.
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âĽď¸ SUMMARY: your brother decides to have a party while your parents are gone, so you think youâre going to have to spend your entire night cooped up in your bedroom. until you get a knock on your door.
âĽď¸ AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is another year-old fic BUT i edited it quite a lot and decided to make it a part of my kinktober. enjoy! <3 iâve been having difficulty writing because of health issues but iâll try! a sequel to until one summer BUT you can read it as a standalone
RAFE CAMERON ŕŞââ´ âĽď¸ KINKTOBER
you hadn't really talked to rafe since what went down between you two, the blonde simply sneaking out of your bedroom before your brother would discover that his poor innocent little sister had been all fucked out by his best friend. you hadn't really seen him around either, as he hadn't come by to even see your brother, but you figured it was due to him being busy.
what you didn't know, was that rafe hadn't been able to get you out of his mind, to the point that even when he was hooking up with other girls, he couldn't help but try to compare them to you, but even the usual amount of drugs or booze wouldn't get you out of his head. so, when your brother told him that he was having a party, rafe couldn't help the grin that crept up onto his lips, thinking of all the ways he would make you his, right while your brother was downstairs.
you were never really too big on parties, so when your brother told you that he was having a party while your parents were away, you simply scoffed and cursed him for making you spend the evening cooped up in your bedroom unless you wanted to bump into drunk idiots, which wasn't exactly something you fantasized about, especially when said jerks were your brother's friends.
plenty of his friends had a habit of hitting on you, but they knew that if they actually tried anything with you, your brother was more than eager to beat their asses, so they usually just ended up ogling you and making vulgar comments about your body that were disguised as jokes.
for you, it was just another friday night, and you laid in bed reading, trying your best to ignore the music blasting and other noises coming from downstairs, the party seemingly in full swing by now, but even your noise-cancelling headphones. didn't seem to be enough to drown it all out you took them of with a groan, just when there was a soft knock on your door. you were so ready to tell whoever was standing there to go screw themselves, but the words seemed to stick to your throat when you saw that familiar head of blonde hair along with that grin you came to know all too well on his annoyingly handsome face as he leaned his head against the doorway.
"hey." rafe said in a gruff voice, looking at you up and down, your body covered by nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most of it covered by the long t-shirt.
"hi." you said softly.
"aren't you gonna tell me to come in?" he said, a feigned pleading look on his face as you rolled your eyes, chuckling slightly, "what's so funny?"
"are you gonna behave?"
at your question, his grin widened even more as he brought his hands to your hips, pushing his way inside.
he turned you around, pressing you against the door so it closed, a hungry glimmer in his eyes as he licked his lips, bringing them close to your ear as he whispered.
"not a chance."
rate pressed you against the door roughly, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, traveling up your body, his hot fingers on your cool skin causing shivers to run down your spine as you felt your nipples harden under the fabric of your t-shirt, your back arching against the door. when his hand reached your breast, your breath got stuck in your throat, but as you felt the sting of his fingers pinching your nipple, you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp. "i haven't been able to stop thinking about you..." rafe whispered into your ear before his lips attached themselves to your neck, kissing and sucking on the skin, causing small whimpers to escape your lips.
"rafe..." you whined out his name, but he simply shushed you, pulling your body closer to his as his lips continued their ministrations on your neck. "rafe, my brother's right downstairs, if he catches us-"
"shh..." he brought the hand that had been on your hips down to your thigh, lifting the hem of your shirt as he let his hand travel up your thigh. "he's not gonna know anything, his ass is wasted..."
your entire body was now coursing with need, and even though you knew it was a terrible idea, your body was craving him, craving the kind of feeling that only he had been able to make you feel, all of you hungry for him, as if you hadn't eaten for days.
"fuck it." you said softly, lifting his head up from his chin, smashing your lips onto yours in a messy, needy kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth before you could even think about it. he pulled you toward your bed without breaking the kiss, until he pushed you down onto it roughly, causing you to miss the sensation of his warm lips on yours.
rafe's eyes moved up and down on your body appreciatively as you lay there, bringing his hand to his chin, rubbing it as he licked his lips, thinking of all the ways he wanted to make you come undone. "i'm gonna take my time appreciating you, princess." he said with a wicked grin as his fingers moved to the waistband of your shorts. "lift your hips for me." he said, the commanding tone of his voice causing a pang of arousal hit your pussy, and you did as he said, the blonde pulling off your shorts painfully slowly, discarding them on the floor.
his head was between your thighs, his lips immediately attaching themselves to your thigh, pressing kisses on your hot skin, as you whimpered underneath him, wanting him to touch you where he needed him the most, but rafe's hand simply slid under your shirt again, pushing it up so your breasts were on full display.
"rafe, please..." you whimpered, and he let out a gruff chuckle, smacking your pussy through your panties, causing you to let out a squeal, looking down at him with a frown.
he lifted his head up, a cocky smirk on his lips, "don't rush me, or l'm not gonna let you come at all." your eyes widened and you nodded, pressing your head back down onto the bed as you closed your eyes, so desperate to just have him touch you as he slowly spread your legs wider, getting closer and closer to your pussy.
however, you weren't prepared for the moment when his lips pressed against your panty-covered folds, even the minimal friction causing a whimper to leave your lips.
rate chuckled slightly, looking up at you as he spoke with a husky tone, "damn, princess... your pretty pussy is so wet it's making your panties cling to you."
he ran his tongue over your folds, and even though they were still covered by your black panties, it was enough to make you arch your back into his mouth, and you brought your hand to your breast, hoping that the action would bring some kind of relief.
but before you could even bring your hand to your nipple, rafe's large hand had swatted yours away, the hunger in his eyes now replaced by coldness, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pressing it roughly onto the bed.
"did i say you could do that?" he raised his brows, looking down at your wrist as you shook your head uncertainly. "now, you're not gonna do anything i don't tell you to do. is that clear?" you nodded, causing him to scoff. "use your fuckin' words."
"i-i won't do anything you don't tell me to do..." you say with a shaky voice, and rate tsked, letting go of your wrist and moving his head back down between your legs. "lift your hips up." he commanded, and you lifted your hips up as his hands went to the waistband of your panties, his long fingers starting to pull them down your legs, a quiet hiss leaving your lips as your arousal-slick pussy was now bare. when rafe had discarded your panties, he started kissing up your inner thighs again, his hands gripping your thighs.
every kiss he pressed felt like it started a tiny fire right in the spot it was left in, the need inside of you getting so excruciating. you bit down on your lip, your eyes pressed closed so hard you could feel tears welling in your eyes while you were trying your hardest to stay still so that rafe would finally reward you with some kind of friction.
and as if he had read your mind, his tongue quickly flicked over your clit, causing you to let out a surprised yelp as you opened your eyes to see him right between your thighs, that same hungry gleam in his eyes as he looked up at you, "how much do you want this?" rafe asked, and you could feel the vibrations of his words against your pussy, sending chills all around your body.
"so much. i want you, rafe. please."
he chuckled, once again sending vibrations all throughout your body. he nipped at your inner thigh, causing you to take in a sharp breath as you looked down at him pleadingly. "alright, since you asked so nicely." rafe said with his usual self-satisfied grin. "just relax. let me take care of vour sweet pussy."
and when you felt him start pressing kisses on your outer folds, you couldn't help but lay your head back, a surprised, loud moan leaving your lips as his lips attached themselves to your clit, and when rafe saw you press your hand over your mouth, he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, a chuckle that you ended up feeling throughout your body, causing you to shiver and shake.
he licked up some of the arousal from your folds, his lips now covered in your wetness as he continued his attack on your clit, lightly suckling it into his mouth before letting it go, and then sucking it with more force. rafe brought his middle finger and ring finger to your entrance, your pussy gushing with arousal, making it easy to push them into you.
you moaned, your back arching off the bed before settling down, the combination of his long, thick fingers starting to move in and out of you along with his wet lips sucking on your clit causing every thought to leave your mind, your breathing heavy and ragged as your fingers clenched around the sheets underneath you, the familiar feeling in your abdomen growing stronger and stronger.
"rafe..." you couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips even as you tried to be as quiet as possible, so close to feeling yourself come undone, "rafe, i'm so close..." you breathed out, his touch so dizzying that you weren't even sure if he heard you.
he flicked his tongue on your clit, and you ground your hips against him as his fingers pumped in and out of you, building that feeling up, making you get closer and closer until it all just... crescendoed.
you let out a string of moans as you felt yourself come undone, your arousal gushing out of you as he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing his lips down to your hole, licking up all of you, his hands now gripping your thighs as he helped you ride down your orgasm, intense aftershocks going through your body.
he brought himself up to lay next to you, propping his head on his elbow, his lips still covered in your slick arousal.Â
rafe looked down at your face as you were still coming down from your orgasm, pushing away a strand of hair that had stuck to your skin. when you were finally getting down from your high, you looked at him with half-lidded eyes, but before you could even open your mouth, his lips were pressed against yours, the salty taste of your arousal still staying on his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth, the blonde making you taste yourself.
when he pulled away, he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor, bringing one of your hands to his abs, letting out a small hiss at the coldness of your hands. "y'know," he says, pressing small, gentle kisses on your neck, "you look so pretty when you come..." he lets out a sigh, a small nip at your neck causing you to let out a yelp, "i could never get sick of it."
your hand went to his belt buckle, causing rafe to let out a dry chuckle against the skin of your neck. you slipped off his belt and threw it onto the floor, trying to fumble with his button and zipper in frustration.
"someone's impatient." rafe said as he pressed a small kiss on your neck before pulling away, standing up while you still lay down on the bed, a small pout on your face.
he laughed at your reaction as he pulled down his pants, kicking them aside, enjoying the way you bit down on your lip when you saw the bulge in his boxers, "like what you see?" he asked cockily, and you threw one of your throw pillows at him, making him laugh as he took off his boxers, letting his cock spring free.
rafe got back onto the bed, laying on top of you, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face and behind your ear, a small smile on his face.
"i like your smile. you should smile more often." you said in a quiet, hoarse voice, making him chuckle. "i smile all the time." rafe said, raising his brows and causing you to roll your eyes at his response. "i don't mean smirk or grin, i mean... smile."
at your words, rafe pressed his lips against yours, and unlike any of the other times you had kissed, this one was a gentle, almost caring kiss, full of unspoken emotions, and instead of the usual fire you felt spread across your body when he touched you, you felt... like an ocean without even a bit of a breeze in the air.
calm, serene, unwavering.
he pulled his lips away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he looked into your eyes, one of his hands stroking his cock, "ready?" he whispered huskily, and you nodded, a hoarse "yeah." leaving your lips, and with that, he positioned his cock at your entrance, making sure to gather some of your arousal onto the tip of his cock before slowly starting to push into you.
a moan left your lips as you felt him hit your cervix, his lips starting to leave messy kisses down your neck as he started to develop a steady pace, one of his hands going to grope your breast.
almost everything about you two seemed to be in sync, the way your hips met his, his breathing equally erratic as yours, your nails digging into his back as he fucked you, his lips sucking small, purple marks onto your skin while he groped your breasts, his hips slowly starting to pick up pace.
the hand that had been on your breast went onto your sensitive clit, starting to draw slow circles around it, your breathing turning even more erratic as his cock pushed deeper into you, all of the disturbing loud noises that had been coming from downstairs now were simply background noise for your ragged breaths and the filthy squelching sounds that came from his cock pulsing in and out of your soaked cunt, your moans combining with his rough groans as you lost yourselves into one another, the familiar warmth starting to build inside of you again.
"feel that?" rafe whispered and took your hand, bringing it to your lower stomach as he thrust into you in a way that made you sputter, and you could feel the shape of his cock there, "yeah, you feel thatâŚ"
you could hear rate's breathing becoming more and more ragged the more you moaned his name, the pace of his fingers on your clit becoming even faster, and you knew he was close to coming. you wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him deeper into you, a gasp leaving his lips. "you're driving me insane..." rafe groaned, "i'm so close, but fuck, don't wanna cum, you feel so good... wanna be in you forever.."
a shiver ran down your spine at his words, and you clenched your pussy around him, causing a whimper to escape his lips before he suppressed it by biting down on his lips, his hips picking up their pace as the feeling inside your abdomen was getting more and more intense, so close to taking over your body. he nipped at the sensitive skin on your collarbone, and one more push was all it took before the warmth spread across your body.
as soon as your pussy clenched around him due to your second orgasm, rate let out a weak breath, feeling himself spill into you, his climax rocking through his body, his breathing ragged as his body slumped on top of yours, feeling completely boneless, his face hidden in your neck, trying to catch his breath.
your moans and breaths mixed together, your arms wrapped around his neck as you let out a small chuckle, causing rafe to raise his head from your neck in confusion, furrowing his brows.
"nothing. that was... amazing." you said softly, pressing a chaste, gentle kiss on his lips. he pulled out of you, some of his cum leaking onto your inner thighs as rafe rolled back down onto the bed, laying next to you as he stared up at the ceiling, a small chuckle leaving his lips.
he turned his head to look at you, and you turned yours to look at him, and as if you were in sync, the two of you let out laughs that were almost identical.
Warnings: Angst (Harryâs a bit of a dick đĽ´), a reveal that proves lies were told among friends, oral (f receiving) and fingering
Plot: You and Harry belong to the same friend group, but at one point, you thought the two of you could be more than just that - friends. After Harry ghosts you on the night you were supposed to have your date, you learn that he had a girl over instead of being with you. Since that night your relationship with him hasnât ever been the same.
Quick A/N: I just wanted to make note that Iâm very much aware of the anonymous messages that have been sent out about me over the last few months. Iâve made the posts I feel are necessary to address the context of said messages, and theyâre all still up on my blog if you wish to look into it. The reason Iâm bringing this up is because if you have your anon feature on, and you interact with this post, youâll more than likely end up receiving one (or many) because it seems like whoever is sending these is just going through the list of people who like/reblog my most recent posts. Iâm so sorry to anyone who may receive, or has been receiving these messages, just because they interact with a post. As always, my messages are open if anyone wishes to discuss further đŤśđť I love you all, and I hope you enjoy âEnigmaâ!
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It was Saturday night and you were meeting up with your friend group at the local pub. These meet-ups were bitter sweet for you. Sure, you absolutely adored your friends, and you loved spending time with them. But spending time with them also meant spending time with him.
Harry.
You had known Harry for a little over a year now, having been introduced to him through your friend, Misha. Harry fit right into your friend group, and about eight months into your friendship, the both of you had let it be known to each other that your feelings were teetering on more than just friends. The two of you agreed that you wanted to see where things could lead. Harry asked you on a date after that, and you were thrilled to finally get to know the sweet man youâve become such good friends with on a deeper level.
On the night of your date, you arrived at the restaurant ten minutes prior to the reservation time that Harry had given you because you were just so excited. Harry was hands down one of the nicest people you had ever met, and the thought of delving into a new type of relationship with him sparked something inside of you. It was something you had never felt before.
The host had led you to the table, and you remained there - waiting for him.Â
You waited for him there for almost an hour, and after a few text messages to him that went unanswered, you determined he wasnât coming. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he forgot, or maybe he got hung up at work and didnât have time to let you know. Harry was a big time contractor. You knew that sometimes he ended up getting caught in contract conversations with clients from time to time. From what he had told you in the past, it seemed like those could set him hours behind in his day.
As you walked out the restaurant and towards your car, you dialed Harryâs number. It rang out and went to voicemail, but you didnât bother leaving a message. What would you have said?
Instead, you decided to call his roommate, who was also a friend of yours, Reagan.Â
Your heart sank to your stomach when Reagan told you that Harry had brought a girl home just half an hour ago, and that they were currently hooking up in his room. Reagan then asked why you wanted to know Harryâs whereabouts, and you decided to lie. You told him that the two of you had talked about going to a new bookstore that had opened up. You didnât dare tell him you had just waited by yourself in a restaurant alone for Harry.
Ever since then, Harry treated you differently, and you werenât sure why.Â
He was no longer friendly towards you, and for the most part, he ignored your existence when you were out with your friends. There was a part of you that wanted to ask him what happened so badly, but you were too embarrassed to do so, and quite frankly, you werenât sure if you could hear the rejection actually fall from his mouth.
So going forward, you tried your best to keep your distance, as it seemed like just the mere presence of you pained him. You didnât want to cause a riff amongst the lot of you. You all had already had your fair share of shock when it turned out Reagan was stealing from Harry right underneath his nose. Thankfully Harry was able to break his lease, and since he had finally found his footing with contracting, he was able to get a place of his own.
As you stepped into the pub, you were immediately met with the laugh that belonged only to your friend, Elizabeth, and you glanced over to see your group. You smiled as you walked over to them, and Yvetteâs face lit up once her eyes landed on you.
âY/N!â She squeaked as she stood up from the large booth everyone was occupying.
You wrapped your arms around each other, Elizabeth following suit afterwards, and then you made your rounds to both Misha and George as well. There was a bit of relief that settled in your chest when you noticed Harry wasnât there. You secretly hoped that he wouldnât be joining you tonight. It would be nice to have a one evening where you didnât feel so on edge by being around him.
Once you went up to the bar to order yourself a beer, you came back over and sat down at the outside end of the booth with Yvette in the middle and Misha on the other side of her. George and Elizabeth sat across from you as you all carried on about your weeks.Â
After finishing your first drink, you and Yvette decided to go use the restroom before grabbing another round. You both freshened up in the bathroom, and when you walked back out, you could see that everyone by the booth was now standing. Your eyes landed on Harry, and it caused your pulse to quicken just a bit.
You really hoped you had been right in thinking he wasnât going to be coming.
You grabbed a fresh pint before heading over to the booth, and you and Yvette took your previous seats - now causing Harry to be across from you since he had joined everyone.
For a brief moment, your eyes met one another, but you quickly looked away and cleared your throat.
âSo, Harry, youâre hosting our monthly movie night next Friday, right?â Elizabeth asked, and he nodded in response while taking a sip of his beer.
âThatâs the plan,â he licked over his bottom lip. âWhatâs everyone in the mood to watch? Horror, drama, romantic comedy?â
âWell, we are deep into spooky season,â Misha piped up. âHow about horror?â
âI can make a little poll to send to the group chat at the beginning of the week with a couple of options. Keep it fair like we usually do,â Yvette offered as she grabbed a handful of the trail mix in a bowl on the table.
âIâll uhmâŚâ you swallowed harshly as you kind of regretted what you were about to say before you had even said it. âIâll see if I can make it. I might be going on a date.â
It wasnât a lie. There was a guy, William, you had run into a couple of times at your local coffee shop in the morning, and after joining him at his table a few times so that you could eat your morning croissant when all the other tables were full, he asked if you wanted to go out with him sometime. You had agreed and exchanged numbers, and it just so happened that he was free next Friday.
His job required him to go out of town on the weekends a lot, so next weekend would be the last one he had off for a while.
âAnd you let this mystery man steal you away on movie night?â Elizabeth pouted as she slumped against the bench. âNo one has ever missed one.â
âI know,â you shook your head. âHis work situation is a little complicated. If we donât do it next Friday, itâll be a few more weeks before weâre able to. Heâs a really nice guy.â
âHope that means youâll stop sleeping around then.â
Quiet immediately fell over the table, and everyone turned their attention to Harry once the words left his mouth.
âExcuse me?â You asked with a harsh laugh. âWhere the hell did that come from?â
âWell you know, usually when you agree to go on a date with someone, you either stop sleeping around, or you at least tell said person that youâve still been seeing other people,â Harry continued, and you could feel your cheeks flush as everyone at the table looked at you.
You and Harry hadnât told your friends about the date you once had planned. The two of you wanted to decide what it all was for yourselves first before letting anyone else in on it.
The date with William would actually be your first one planned since the one you were supposed to have with Harry.
âIâm sorry. Iâm not sure Iâm following.â
âOf course youâre not,â Harryâs tone was sarcastic as he responded to you, and you soon felt extremely uncomfortable being around him.
You werenât sure what he was playing at here.Â
Is that what he thought you had been doing around the time of your date? Is that why he ghosted you?
âWell, I think something a bit worse than that would be sleeping with someone the same night youâre supposed to be going on a date with someone else.â
If he was going to come at you with some wild claim, then youâd come back with something that you knew to be true.
Harryâs eyes widened as you stood up, and you chugged down the rest of your pint before grabbing your purse - slinging it over your shoulder.
âIâll see you guys later,â you told the table as you started to make your way towards the entrance of the pub, and you could hear Yvetteâs sharp voice ripping into Harry just before you walked outside.
Once on the street, you closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath to soothe the ache in your chest. You jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder, eyelids snapping open to see Elizabeth and Misha standing next to you.
âY/N, are you alright?â Elizabethâs face had concern written all over it as Misha rubbed his hand up and down your back. âI donât even know what happened in there. Yvette is currently giving Harry the third degree.â
âItâs nothing,â you whispered while shaking your head. âI donâtâŚI donât really know either.â
âIâve never seen him act like such a dick before. I mean, I can tell that you two donât really get along, not like you used to at least,â Mishaâs eyes scanned over you before continuing. âDid something happen between the two of you?â
âAre you trying to say itâs her fault for him acting like that?â Elizabeth snapped, and Mishaâs lips parted. âWhy is it automatically her fault?â
âNo, thatâs not what Iâm saying. Iâm just trying-â
âSounds an awful lot like youâre trying to get Y/N to admit something to justify Harryâs behavior.â
âIâm right here, you know?â you huffed out as you crossed your arms over your chest.Â
You figured now was as good of a time as ever to come clean about what you had been keeping from everyone. You were sure Harry was probably telling Yvette and George already anyway.Â
âHarry and I were supposed to go on a date a few months back, but he ghosted me. He didnât answer my texts or my calls, so to make sure he was okay I called Reagan. Reagan told me Harry was busy hooking up with some girl in his bedroom.â
Elizabethâs mouth gaped at your confession, and then you watched as her brows narrowed. âOh, heâs in for it.â
âLizzy,â you rolled your eyes at her as she turned to Misha again.
âSee! If anyone should be a dick, it should be Y/N! Who does Harry think he is treating her like that after what he did to her?â
âOkay, but whatâs the whole thing about sleeping around? Were you doing that when you had agreed to go on a date with Harry?â Misha asked, and you shook your head.
You knew he was asking from a place of wanting to understand, and not a place of judgment, so you werenât angry with him for it.
âI wasnât,â you told them honestly. âI didnâtâŚI didnât want anyone but him, and I hadnât even had him yet.â
âCan I ask why you havenât told him that then?â Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, pulling her coat tighter around herself as a chill breeze came through.Â
âI didnât know thatâs what he thought until tonight. I didnât say anything to him about the ghosting because I was so embarrassed. I couldnât imagine just walking up to him and asking what happened to end up being rejected even more than I already had been.â
Misha sighed as he walked forward and pulled you into his chest for a tight hug. âI think the two of you desperately need to have a conversation to clear some things up.â
âDoesnât matter. Regardless of if he thought that, he still ghosted me to sleep with someone else without speaking to me first. I donât want to be with someone who would do something like that as some weird sort of revenge.â
The three of you didnât speak anymore as Misha continued to hold you, and finally you pulled away.
âPlease justâŚdonât say anything to him,â you tucked your hands into the pocket of your coat. âLet me think over how I want to approach the whole thing - if I even choose to.â
The two of them nodded as you gestured down the sidewalk with your elbow. âIâm going to head home now. Iâll let you guys know about next Friday.â
âOkay, please text me or call me if you need anything,â Elizabeth said, and you could tell she was upset about what she just found out.
âSame here,â Misha chimed in, and you sent them both a soft smile before heading off down the street where you had parked your car.
⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠â˘
âY/N, you made it!â You heard Vyette exclaim once Harry had opened the door to his loft.
You watched as Harryâs eyes ran over you, and he didnât make any movement to step aside and out of the doorway.
âThought you had a date,â his voice was rough as his jaw twitched, and you shook your head.
âHe couldnât do this weekend. Switched to another day.â
It was then you saw Elizabeth appear over Harryâs shoulder, and she immediately nudged her way forward to have him stepping to the side. âLet her in, Harry,â she said before grabbing your hand - pulling you inside.
This wasnât the first time you had been over to Harryâs loft since everything happened, but this was the first time you were seeing him again after your little tiff last Saturday. Elizabeth took your coat from you so that she could hang it in the closet with the others as Misha popped up from the couch to greet you.
âHey, Y/N, how are you feeling?â He asked, giving you a strong hug.
âIâm good. How about you?â
âGood, good,â he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. âWe were just about to get the movie started. Do you need me to get you something to drink?â
âNo, thatâs alright. Iâve got it,â you gave Misha a soft smile before heading towards the kitchen, and your eyes wandered over the options that were laid out before you.
Just as you went to grab the bottle of bourbon, a large hand grabbed it from in front of you. Looking over, you saw Harry standing there - his eyes drilling into yours as he set his glass down on the counter. You didnât look away from him while he pulled the cork out of the bottle to pour more of the dark liquor into his glass, and when he put it back in, you expected him to hand it over to you. Instead, he placed it back down on the counter where it originally was, and moved around you to reach the fridge to grab a mixer.
âIf you donât want me here, I can leave,â you told him.
Harry stopped moving for a moment, his back to you as he closed the fridge, and you could tell he had let out a deep breath. âLike any of them would let that happen. Youâre already here - letâs just get tonight over with.â
âI wasnât sleeping around with anyone, Harry. I only wanted you.â
Your mouth was open, the words almost slipping off your tongue before George spoke up in the living room. âHey, you two,â you looked over to him to see his arm around Mishaâs shoulder, the two of them cuddling up on Harryâs large couch with Yvette and Elizabeth on both sides of them. âAre you coming or what? Elizabeth is chomping at the bit here to start Barbarian.â
âYeah, sorry,â you tried not to stammer as you quickly grabbed a glass from the counter top, and you walked over to the fridge to get ice. âJust making a drink. You guys can go ahead and start once Harry sits if you want.â
Harry rolled his eyes at you as he left the kitchen area of his loft, and you watched as he sat down in an armchair that was on one end of the couch. That left the other armchair open for you, furthest away from Harry on the opposite side, and that granted you some relief when it came to your anxiousness.
Once you finished your drink, you joined everyone and curled up in the open chair - keeping your glass between your hands as George finally started up the movie. You hadnât seen this movie before, but you knew that Bill SkarsgĂĽrd was in it, and that was enough to sell you on it.
The movie had managed to give you a couple of jumpscares, and you refilled your drink twice to deal with the nerves that were still nestled into your stomach - ones that were showing no indication of leaving. As the credits began to roll, a loud crack of thunder clapped outside, and that caused you to jump harder than the movie had.
âOh shit, we better get going before it gets really bad,â Misha announced as he stood up, extending his hand out for George to take. âSorry to cut this short you guys, I didnât realize the storm was going to be this bad, and weâve got a bit of a drive.â
Misha and George always took turns drinking on movie night so that someone was always the DD. Tonight, it was Misha who would be taking home a fairly drunk George. George wasnât the biggest fan of scary movies, and neither was Yvette, so in order for the two of them to cope, they had been indulging in several shots throughout the night.
âCan I come with you guys?â Yvette pushed herself off the couch and stumbled into Mishaâs side as he quickly wrapped his arm around her waist. âGeorge and I have been having so much fun being drunk buddies tonight, and I wanna keep partying.â
Misha rolled his eyes playfully, but you knew that he loved it as George was only introduced to all of you a couple of years ago when they started dating. You could see in his eyes just how happy it made him to see his best friends getting along with his boyfriend.
âSure, sure,â Misha nodded as George finally stood up as well. âYou can sleep in the guestroom too, if you want.â
âSleepover!â Yvette giggled as they began to collect their things.
After saying their goodbyes, you and Elizabeth moved around Harryâs loft to help tidy things up. This was something you did for whoever held movie night, and even though you still werenât on the best terms with Harry, you were going to stick to your tradition - especially if Elizabeth was here to also help.
âDo you need a ride?â Elizabeth asked as she dried her hands off after washing them.Â
Elizabeth lived at least twenty minutes away from Harry, just like you, however, you lived in the opposite directions. If Elizabeth took you home, that would end up being a forty minute commute, and you werenât going to have her do that in this kind of weather. You peeked out the window to see that the storm had gotten even worse, and you shook your head.
âNo, itâs okay. Iâll grab another Lyft,â you sent her a smile as the two of you wrapped your arms around each other by Harryâs front door. âPlease text me when you get home, alright?â
âWill do,â Elizabeth said, giving you one more squeeze before looking over at Harry as she grabbed her keys. âDonât be an asshole while she waits for her ride or else youâre in for it the next time I see you. Got it?â
Harry scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest - leaning against the island in the middle of his kitchen. âIâll try to be on my best behavior just for you, Lizzy.â
Elizabeth quickly held her middle finger up at him before looking over to you - blowing one more kiss as she walked out the door. You stared at it for a moment, keeping your back to Harry as you sucked in a deep breath. The two of you hadnât been alone together in quite a long time, and uneasiness was spreading over your body even more.
You patted your back pocket for your phone, and you brows narrowed when you didnât feel it. Looking over to the chair you were sitting in, you could see it had fallen into one of the cracks on the side. You walked over to it and pulled the Lyft app up with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. The closest ride was almost twenty-five minutes away, but you kept your expression neutral as you requested it.
âIâll just grab my things and wait in the lobby,â you told him as you retrieved your coat from the closet - shrugging it onto your shoulders. âThank you for allowing us to have movie night here tonight.â
You couldnât bring yourself to look at him as you grabbed your purse from the small table by his door, but before you could grab the doorknob, another clap of thunder ricocheted outside. A gasp left your lips as the lights in Harryâs place went out, and you quickly placed a hand against your chest as the two of you were now consumed in almost total darkness.
âJust fucking great,â you heard Harry mutter, but you were frozen in place as you could barely make out the silhouette of the door that you stood in front of.
Your fingers brushed against the knob that you were looking for, and when you turned it, the lights in the hallway of the complex were also out. It looked like the abyss out there, and you quickly slammed the door before backing away.
âHere,â Harryâs voice was closer to you now, and you turned around to see him holding not only his phone with the flashlight on in one hand, but a small LED lantern as well that was lighting up the living room area of his place quite nicely. âI have a couple of other lanterns and some candles as well.â
You couldnât find it in yourself to speak as you took the lantern, so you just nodded in response as you walked back over to the chair you had been occupying all night - fishing your phone out to turn on your flashlight as well after placing the lantern in the middle of the coffee table. When your phone buzzed in your hand, you looked down to see that your Lyft ride had canceled, and you were sure it had to do with not only the storm, but how far theyâd have to drive in the storm to get you home.
Your hands began to shake as you pulled the map on the app up again, and you could see there were no current drivers available.
âThis should help a bit more,â Harry commented mindlessly, and you looked over to see him lighting candles around his kitchen, and sure enough, the space began to brighten up. âI know you donât like the dark.â
Hearing those words leave his mouth surprised you. All of your friends knew how much you didnât like the dark, but they had known you forever. You werenât sure if Harry wouldâve retained that information.Â
âThanks,â you cleared your throat as you stood up - turning the flashlight off on your phone before tucking it in your pocket. âUhm, my driver canceled, and thereâs no other drivers available right now. Iâll keep checking, and as soon as one pops up, I promise Iâll be out of your hair.â
Harryâs eyes trailed over you in the lightly illuminated room before he turned away and back towards the liquor that was still on the counter. âYou can just stay here. I checked the weather app and it doesnât look like itâs going to calm down until the early morning. Even if you did get a driver, Iâm sure youâd be without power at home too. Iâll give you my bed, and I can sleep on the couch.â
âHarry, thatâs not really-â
âY/N,â the glass that he had retrieved from the cabinet above him clinked loudly against the counter as he did his best not to slam it down on the hard surface. âJust take the fucking offer.â
You swallowed harshly at his tone. You didnât want to be here, but you knew he was right. Your apartment was more than likely without power, and staying there in the dark by yourself seemed even worse than this.
âOkay,â you whispered as you fiddled with your fingers behind your back. âThank you.â
It was a minute before Harry started to move again, and you heard him let out a heavy sigh. âDrink?â
âSure.â
Walking back into the living room, you decided to sit down on the couch instead of the chair again, and you curled your legs up into your chest. You wrapped your arms around your shins - resting your chin on your knees as you watched the aggressive storm from outside the window.
âHere,â Harry extended a rocks glass of bourbon on ice out to you, and you took it from him with both hands.
âThanks.â
It was silent as he went and sat down in the chair he had been sitting in as you all watched the movie. The clinking of the ice in your glasses was the only thing that could be heard for a few minutes before you looked over to Harry. He was staring down into his glass as he rested it on the top of his knee with one hand - his other hand tucked inside his short curls as he leaned against his elbow on the arm of the chair.
âWhy did you do it?â You asked, the question escaping you before you could stop it. You knew it was probably the buzz from the liquor in your head having it slip out, but deep down it was clear to you that the conversation needed to happen. âWhy did you bring that girl to your place the night of our date?â
Harry lifted his head and looked at you with an expression you couldnât read, and when he didnât speak, you continued.
âI waited at the restaurant for you for almost an hour. I was so excited and thenâŚyou never showed up.â
âI didnât have another girl over that night,â Harry stated, his tone calm. âBut I had no intention of showing up to our date.â
âAnd you couldnât have just told me that? If you had changed your mind, thatâs fine, Harry, but ghosting me? I thought we were closer than that.â
âThe second I found out that you were still continuing to sleep with other people while leading me to believe you wanted something more between us - thatâs when I made the decision to not go on the date. As harsh as it sounds, I didnât feel like you deserved an explanation from me as to why I wasnât going to show up.â
âWhat are you talking about?â You gulped down the rest of your drink before dropping the glass onto the coffee table. âI wasnât sleeping with anyone, Harry! I havenât slept with anyone in almost a year.â
âCome on, Y/N, donât continue to lie to me. Reagan told me-â
âReagan told you? But he told me thatâŚâ
Silence came over the two of you again, and you raised your hand to your mouth as you realized what had happened. Reagan had lied to the both of you. You knew that Reagan had a thing for you. Even before Harry came into the picture he had told you he had a little crush, but you didnât feel the same way. You were more than gentle in letting him down and assuring him that it wouldnât change anything on your end in regards to your friendship. He had never acted differently towards you after that, so you didnât think anything was wrong.
Now it had become apparent that he was secretly angry with you over it, and although you and Harry had decided to keep the date between just the two of you in case things went bad, you couldnât blame him for confiding in Reagan about it. He was his roommate, and you were sure that if you had one, you wouldâve done the same.
âHe lied to us,â you whispered, shaking your head.
âBut why?â Harry asked, and you looked over at him again to see another unreadable expression.
Youâre sure he was feeling what you were feeling right now. Anger, regret and probably a good sense of guilt washed over him for how differently he had treated you. You had never been nasty to him. Even though it had broken your heart when Reagan spewed his lies, it just wasnât you to be mean.Â
âHe liked me,â you sighed as you wrapped your arms around yourself. âI never told anybody about it because I didnât want to embarrass him, but he told me once that he wanted to take me on a date. I had to let him know that I didnât feel the same way. He seemed fine afterwards, but now itâs pretty obvious it was still eating away at him.
âHe probably stole from you for the same reason. He could see that I wasnât over you. I talked to him about not being over you, and how hurt I was about everything. He was probably pissed that I still couldnât move on even though he made me believe that you hurt me. He was jealous that some part of you still had me even though he tried to tear us apart.â
Harry remained silent as he reached forward and placed his empty glass on the coffee table just like you had a few seconds prior. He now rested both of his elbows on his knees while running his hands over his face.Â
For a little over four months now, the two of you hadnât been the same. Seeing this reaction from Harry, it was clear now that the whole situation had the same effect on him as it did you - even if he didnât show it. The two of you were trying to figure out how things had gone so wrong. He was wondering how you couldâve hurt him all while you were wondering how he couldâve hurt you.
âThis is so fucked up,â Harry whispered, shaking his head. âSo fucked up.â
âIt is,â you swallowed the lump that started to form in your throat due to the array of emotions you were feeling. More than anything you just felt angry. Angry at Reagan for taking away something that you knew probably could have been so good for you if it hadnât been ruined before it was even started. âHe made you hate me.â
You choked on the last word before dropping your forehead against your knees - hands tightening around your shins as you tried to keep yourself from crying.
âY/N,â Harry said your name but you didnât look up.
Although Reagan lied to you both, you still had to blame each other for the lack of communication. If Harry had just asked you if what Reagan had told him was true, you couldâve shot the lie down immediately - before it found a way to burrow itself right in between the two of you. You were also angry at yourself in that aspect. If you had just asked Harry why he ghosted you, maybe you wouldâve gotten this answer sooner, and again, all of this couldâve been shot down before it grew into what it is now.
âY/N,â Harry repeated himself, and you could tell that he was closer.
Lifting your head, you looked down to see him on his knees on the couch next to you. He hesitantly stretched his hand out to rest on top of one of yours, and you let him ghost his fingertips over the top of it.
âI should probably go, Harry,â you told him as you shuffled around on the couch - turning to face him which caused his touch to abandon you. âI think itâs best we just sort through this alone.â
âPlease donât go,â he reached out and placed both of his palms over your knees. âI need to apologize to you. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad and IâŚoh my god.â
Harry shook his head as he tilted his head down - chin meeting his chest.Â
âI wish I had just talked to you,â he said softly as his thumbs stroked over the insides of your lower thighs. There was nothing sexual about it. You could tell he was looking for a sense of comfort among the emotions firing throughout his body. âI shouldâve just talked to you. I shouldâve been better than that. I think I just felt really betrayed because I thought you really liked me. So to hear Reagan say you had still been seeing other peopleâŚmultiple people. It hurt me.â
It was clear you were both too afraid to speak up to get hurt even further. You didnât want to ask him about being ghosted because hearing him verbally reject you wouldâve been too painful, and he didnât want you to ask you about the other people for the same reason. If it had been true, hearing you admit it wouldâve made it worse.
âIâm sorry that I didnât speak up either. I just couldnât imagine hearing you tell me that you werenât interested anymore, and that you had found someone else to occupy your time that night,â you reached a hand out, pausing for just a moment before you lowered it to run through the top of his cropped curls. âI didnât want anyone else, Harry. You had me even before we had admitted our feelings to each other.â
Harry slowly lifted his head to look at you, and your hand dropped to rest against the side of his neck now. âI wish I still had you, Y/N. This whole thing is so fucked up. I shouldâveâŚafter I knew Reagan was stealing from me, I shouldâve realized he had probably lied to me about many other things, but especially you.â
Bringing your other hand down, you cradled Harryâs jaw in your palms - pulling him up a bit more so that he sat higher on his knees. âMake it up to me.â
You watched as Harryâs eyes darted over your face in the soft candlelight mixed with the glow of the LED lantern behind him. His large hands rubbed over the tops of your thighs as he moved a bit closer so he was now properly slotted between your legs. Tilting your head to the side, you dragged the pad of your thumb over his lower lip.
âMake it up to me,â you said the same phrase again, but lowered your tone as you let your lips ghost along his.
Harry didnât hesitate this time, and he quickly angled his head up to meet your mouth. You couldnât help but to immediately moan as his hands journeyed further up to grip to your hips - the tips of his fingertips indenting against the skin of your lower back underneath your t-shirt. Your hands journeyed down to fist the front of the jumper he had on so you could pull him closer to you, and you arched your back to have your pelvis flush against his. Although you had alcohol in your system that was causing your head to feel a bit floaty - you knew this was what you wanted. You needed him.
His tongue slipped out to run across the seam of your mouth before you parted your lips. You rolled your tongue over his own as he rocked his growing erection that was straining against the zipper of his jeans along the inside of your thigh. It didnât take long for you to feel the damp spot starting to form in your underwear while his tongue began to explore every bit of your mouth.
âY/N,â the rasp of Harryâs voice sent a shiver down your spine. âI want to taste you.â
That earned him another moan from you as you nodded, and he pulled back a bit to reach for the waistband of your jeans. You allowed him to take the reins as you leaned back and lifted your hips while he unbuttoned and unzipped the denim clinging to your body. Once he had those properly undone, he yanked them down your legs - fingers wrapping around your underwear along the way to pull them all down in one go.
Although you were pretty confident in yourself when it came to the bedroom, it had been so long since you had even been partially naked like this in front of someone. You watched as Harry raked his eyes over your exposed lower half before shaking his head.
âSo fucking beautiful,â his lips grazed along the inside of your thigh before planting a kiss right against your pubic bone. âYou promise youâre comfortable?â
His eyes peered up into yours and you nodded while cupping your hand against the back of his head. âI promise,â you assured him. âNow have a taste.â
Harry ducked his head down to run his tongue through your drenched slit and you threw your head back at the sensation. You didnât bother trying to conceal the noises that left you as he trailed his tongue up to your clit - lapping over it a few times before sucking it between his lips.
âThatâs it, Harry,â you whined as your tossed your legs over his shoulders, and he pressed his palms against the inside of your thighs to spread you just a bit further.
âYouâre so fucking sweet, Y/N,â he pressed kisses against your throbbing bud - your hips jumping right in time each one. âIâll make it up to you every single day if it means I get to have you like this.â
âThatâs to be determined,â you puffed out a small laugh as your fingers gripped to his hair. âDepends on how hard you make me come.â
Harry couldnât help the chuckle that escaped him at your words, and he took a minute to look up at you again. âIf I could stay here all day, suffocating between these beautiful thighs of yours while licking at this sweet pussy - making you come again and again? I would fucking do it.â
His words caused your cunt to clench around nothing, and you mewled out at just how hot and bothered that got you. âWell, show me just how good it can be, and Iâll let you know if youâve got the job.â
The crooked grin that stretched over Harryâs lips, causing that sweet dimple to indent into his cheek, had your heart fluttering in the midst of you being turned on beyond belief.
âIâll show you, baby, and then youâre going to be begging for more.â
Getting right back to work, Harry began to properly take his time with you. He licked at your folds, sucked on your clit, and when he knew he had you so perfectly worked up, he plunged his tongue inside. You gasped as you stared up at the ceiling - feeling the thick muscle pulse in and out as you rutted your clit along the bridge of his nose.
âYes,â you sighed happily, shutting your eyes as the corners of your lips twitched up into a smile. âSo good.â
He kissed his way back up to your clit, beginning to suck again before slowly inserting his middle and ring fingers into you. Your back arched even further, and given that you hadnât had any contact like this in so long, you knew that youâd be coming sooner rather than later.
âYou like that, Y/N?â Harryâs sultry voice started to ring in your ears. âYou look so amazing like this. Got me fucking addicted and Iâve only had a little taste.â
âIt feelsâŚshit,â you could feel your thighs starting to tremble once Harry curled his fingers - the tips of them rubbing across your sweetest spot. âOh my god, Harry. Youâre going to make me come.â
âCome on,â he coaxed you, putting his head back down. âCome on my fingers. Come on my tongue. Let me taste you completely.â
Once his tongue found your clit once again, you knew you were done for. He sucked it between his heart shaped lips as he thrusted his fingers in and out of your soaked cunt - your heels digging into his shoulder blades.
âHarry,â you moaned deliriously. âIâmâŚoh my fuck - Iâm coming.â
Your walls closed in completely around Harryâs fingers as he continued to pulse your clit into his mouth. It was euphoric. It was everything. Your body tingled from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, and even when he pulled away from you entirely to massage your thighs - you still werenât coming down.
âY/N,â his muffled voice filled your senses. âOpen your eyes, baby. Look at me.â
Following his directions and blinking your eyes open, you focused on the ceiling before looking down at Harry. You smiled wide at the sight of him. Your orgasm was still glistening on his lips, and his touch was so soft.
âCome here,â you pulled him back up like you had before - having him be level with you again once you sat up straight.
Your lips found his once more and you indulged in a short makeout session before pulling away.
âDid that make up for it?â Harry asked with a small laugh as you played with the curls at the nape of his neck.
âIt didâŚfor now,â you said while knocking the tip of your nose against his with a smirk. âI want a proper date. Next Friday. Then weâll go from there.â
Harryâs eyes met yours, and he smiled wide - bunny teeth on full display for you to see before he responded with a nod.
âItâs a date.â
⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠⢠â˘
Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @ghoststyles @lillefroe @gem1712 @lemoncrushh @namoreno @mellamolayla @idklilili @angeldavis777 @michellekstyles @freedomfireflies @triski73 @daphnesutton @harrrrystylesslut @giitterysuits @finelinepie @hannah9921 @mema10 @fruity-harry @fangirl509east @matildasatellite (if youâd like to be added to my taglist, please check out this post!)
prompt: 'the moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up.'
warnings: disgusting angst. cried whilst writing, was going to make it sadder and then thought it was too cruel. proofread at 4am :)
wc: 4.7k oops
a/n: this is part of my 100 followers celebration!! as sad as it is (the fic not the followers teehee), this was a really fun write and i really enjoyed the non-linear structure! hope you guys cry enjoy xx
rafe cameron masterlist
Rafeâs hands tremble as they reach for your doorbell. The weight of the ring box settled in his pocket feels like an elephant just fell asleep there. He doesnât even realize heâs stalling.Â
Heâs never been this nervous in his life.Â
Because today is the day heâs going to ask you to marry him.Â
With the ring that you picked out on a spontaneous shopping trip months ago. The one you said looked like it belonged in a fairytale. That was probably Rafeâs favorite thing about you. Your optimism. He thought love was a sheer transaction growing up, but boy did you prove him wrong.Â
Who knew that a stupid little bet at the Country Club wouldâve given him the push to turn his whole life around? To become a better man. To feel. To wear his heart on his sleeve without shame.
You were Rafeâs favorite kind of storm. The kind he never saw coming.Â
Kelce had just bought another round of Mai Tais. The boys slouched back in their private booth at the Club, half-drunk and obnoxiously loud. Rafe knew he didnât need another drink, but he wasnât about to be the first man down. Not with his pride in the room. Â
âEarth to Rafe.â Topperâs voice dragged him from his thoughts. A hand waved in front of his face, drawing a tired grumble from him as Rafe sipped his Mai Tai like he wasnât two drinks away from blacking out.Â
âHuh?âÂ
âWe were just saying, we didnât realize she got hot.â Topper nodded in your direction, where you were bent over a table, cleavage on very clear display. Rafeâs eyes locked on like a sniper before he even realized.Â
His heart sank, guilt pooling in his chest as his face paled. He shook it off, trying to brush it off before his friends noticed.
âYeah, sheâs got a rack on her now,â he muttered, forcing a playful laugh. The boys around him burst into a fit of laughter, totally missing the way Rafeâs eyes kept flicking up to you.Â
He couldnât look away.Â
Something about you was different now. You used to clean his familyâs house. You were younger then, quiet, always rushing between jobs, dirt under your nails and exhaustion under your eyes.
You hadnât cleaned his house in over a year. That night, you looked happy. Your cheeks were flushed with color, your hair different and your posture more confident.
âI wouldnât even bother. Sheâs got that good girl, white skirt, cross-necklace thing going on. Youâd be wasting your time,â Kelce scoffed, dragging Rafeâs attention back to the table.
âWho said I was bothering?â Rafe deadpanned.
Rafeâs dry tone caused a scatter of laughs around the table, and Kelce leaned in, eager to get under Rafeâs skin.
âBet you couldnât even get your hand in her panties without her praying about it after,â Kelce leant forward, his voice dropping to a dirty murmur. Rafeâs smirk twitched, caught between disgust and amusement.
âYouâre a sick fuck, you know that?â
Kelce still had that shit eating grin on his face, shrugging like he was as innocent as ever, âIâll put a band on it. You wonât fuck her by the end of the month.â Rafeâs eyebrow raised in amusement.
âWhat, you tryna pimp me out now?âÂ
Kelce wiggled his eyebrows, throwing his hands into the air like a preacher, âCall it a challenge. You always act like youâre the king of this place. Prove it. Iâll even give you six months, âcause sheâs as straight as a nun.âÂ
There was a pause. That landed. Rafeâs pride stung. Validation clawed at his gut.
Rafeâs voice dropped low, his eyes sharp on Kelce, âMake it two bands. And stop talking about her like that.â Kelce laughed, whilst a string of hollers crowded the table.Â
âThere he is. Savior complex strikes again.â Kelce mocked, kicking back in satisfaction.Â
âGame on, Cameron.âÂ
His heart pounds harder when the door doesnât open right away. You always answered fast. Youâd see his location, peek through the doorbell, and met him with a soft smile and a kiss.Â
Not tonight.
He knew he didnât deserve your gentleness, but fuck, it felt too good to push away.Â
âRafe? What are you doing here?â your voice was muffled over the rain, yet it hit him like a wave of calm. You pulled him inside, rushing for a towel.
âAre you cold? I can make you a hot chocolate-â he cut you off with a shake of his head. He wasnât even sure why he came. He felt like a fool. After heâd made the bet with Kelce, he made a point of showing up every night to the Club.Â
He was always alone, tipped well, and made it his mission to get to know you. The bet slowly began to fade. Because you never threw yourself at him. You werenât trying to impress him. You just talked to him.
You were polite, asked how his day was, complimented his work ethic, and always turned down his excessive tips like it was just second nature. You were just working. Just⌠being kind.
It only made him want you more. Not because of the bet, but because he wasnât used to the kind of attention you gave him.Â
âNo, no. I came here because I know you said storms scare you. I didnât want you to be alone.â He felt like a fucking idiot the second the words left his mouth. He winced, but the way your eyes twinkled with adoration made his heart hammer in his chest.Â
He had to keep telling himself that itâs just for the bet.Â
âRafe, you didnât have to do thatâŚâ you trail off, âMy jellycat does a pretty good job at scaring the storm-scaries away.â He had to swallow the lump in his throat forcefully, impossibly fighting the smile plastering his face.Â
âI wanted to though. I can leave, if you want,â he offered, scratching the back of his neck. You were shaking your head before he could move, moving forward to wrap your arms around his waist in a tight hug.Â
The gesture was merely friendly, yet Rafeâs body felt like it was on fire. He could smell the perfume he bought you, and his guilt bubbled in his chest. He was in way deeper than he ever couldâve imagined.Â
It took him a moment, but eventually his arms enveloped you, holding you tightly against him. Holding you that close, showed him a feeling heâd never experienced before. Heâd been with plenty of girls, yet none of them made him feel all warm and fuzzy like you did.Â
He couldnât even pinpoint when it happened. He began offering to drive you to work. Began texting to check up on you. Began buying you little gifts to drop you at work. He was doing the things he thought would win you over, unaware that you were always going to walk away the winner.Â
Hell, you hadnât even kissed him, and he knew you were something he couldnât just walk away from.Â
You pulled back, the prettiest of smiles on your face, âI was just watching a movie, I can make some popcorn and you can pick something else.â His eyes softened, that burning in his chest making it impossible to not tell you about the bet on the spot.Â
It gnawed at his soul every time he saw you. He was swimming deeper and deeper into your life, and wanted nothing more than to tell you. But that little smile, that warmth that followed you into every roomâhe couldnât shatter your spirit like that.Â
âIâm not hungry, angel. And Iâll just watch whatever youâre watching.â You nodded, cheeks beginning to flush with an embarrassed heat. A smirk twinkled on Rafeâs face, pulling away from you, his hands rested on your shoulders.Â
âWhat? Watching a porno or somethinâ?â Rafe sniggered, forcing your nose to scrunch up adorably.Â
âEw! No. Itâs justâyouâre gonna laugh at me,â you murmured, eyes focused on your bare feet instead of his gaze. He forced your chin up with a delicate hand, shaking his head. Your stomach was flipping at the touch, electricity coursing through your veins.Â
âIâm not gonna laugh at you, angel, I promise,â he had to practically chew the bile down, knowing how well he knew you already. He knew how seriously you took a promise, yet he let it fall off his tongue so naturally.Â
âItâs stupid, but Iâm watching Beauty and the BeastâŚâ your voice was shy, and he knew in that moment that he was completely fucked. If any other girl had told him that, heâd laugh in their face and leave.Â
But youâd worn down his walls, an inch at a time at first, and then they came crumbling down, like a sledgehammer had taken to them.Â
The softest, kindest, purest sledgehammer heâd ever seen or felt.Â
And youâd just kicked him in the gut with the most ironic movie choice heâd ever seen.Â
âItâs not stupid, come on, weâve got a love story to go watch,â he spun you around by your shoulders, ushering you towards your bedroom. He didnât miss the way you were wearing those Victoriaâs Secret satin pajamas heâd bought you.Â
You were swooning over him. He made your tummy flutter. He said all the right things. He always bought you sweet little gifts, regardless of how many times youâd told him not to. You couldnât possibly see why he would care for a Pogue like you though.Â
Especially not to that extent. Youâd thought it was just for sex in the beginning, but he never even tried to get you into bed. He just started being around. Started making you laugh, started making you feel like home wasnât always the roof over your head.Â
Heâd tried to lay on the floor that night, wanting to respect your space. You were instantly scolding him, âWhat are you doing?!â Rafe had looked at you like you were absolutely insane, and it made you giggle.Â
âGetting comfy?â You rolled your eyes, pulling the other side of your pink comforter up. The comforter that he never knew youâd saved up for nearly two months to buy. You patted the space beside you, ignoring the dumbfounded look on his face.Â
âIâm not letting you lay on the floor, stupid.â That cracked him. A real smile. One full of more emotions than heâd ever allowed himself to feel in one moment. He didnât let the opportunity go to waste, instantly kicking his shoes off and climbing under the sheets that smelt so perfectly of you.Â
He had the opportunity to be close to you, and that was all that mattered to him.Â
You were asleep by the time the movie finished, and the storm had quietened down outside. He rolled towards you, brushing a wild strand of hair from your face, a million thoughts flowing through his head.Â
Maybe if you told him you loved him, heâd transform from the beast he is, into the man he wanted to be for you.
Maybe he was cursed.Â
Maybe you were the person who could break that curse.Â
âYouâre my Belle,â his eyes lingered on your face, blissfully unaware, âAnd Iâm the reason the story ends differently.âÂ
He didnât even realize the words had slipped out of his mouth until you began to stir, sending him close to the edge of cardiac arrest. Every inch of his being prayed you hadnât heard him. He didnât even believe in a god for fucks sake.
âWhat time is it?â you whined, eyes still heavy with sleep. Rafe let out the breath he didnât even know he was holding, continuing to stroke your hair. You couldnât have possibly heard him.
âAbout two? I should probably get going, angel.â Your head shook instantly, and he knew he wasnât going anywhere.Â
âStay.âÂ
Blood flooded his mouth, accidentally biting his cheek. Your words made his head spin, only for a moment. He soon settled back beside you, wrapping an arm under your pillow, drawing you closer to him.Â
âYou sure?âÂ
Your little âmmhmmâ was all it took. When your breathing levelled, and he knew you were asleep, he rested his forehead against yours, and fell into the most blissful sleep of his life. Youâd become his safe place as much as heâd become yours.Â
âAngel?â He pressed the Ring doorbell, rubbing his palms together, trying to calm himself down. You hadnât texted all day, and heâd put it down to the late-night shift youâd done last night. Maybe you were sleeping.Â
Maybe you were in the bath, using one of those bath bombs heâd bought you.Â
Maybe you were watching a movie.Â
Maybe your phone was flat.Â
You couldnât have possibly seen the text from Kelce last night. You were asleep before him. Right?
âLeave.âÂ
The word slices through the static. Chills crawl down his spine. His brows knit, confusion twisting through him like smoke.Â
Heâs waiting for you to open the door, and tell him youâre only kidding. To see that smile that lights up the entire town. To feel your lips on his. To feel your arms around him, holding him tighter than anyone has ever held him in his life.Â
You swung the door open, watching his location on your phone, like you always did when he rode over. You had baked him a cake for his birthday, and were practically buzzing with excitement to give it to him.Â
Heâd tossed his helmet, booting the kickstand with a sense of urgency he only had when he missed you. Heâd seen you the day before, but it didnât matter anymore. He rushed inside, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.Â
âI baked you a cake, yâknow, for your birthday!â Your words dizzied him. The candles flickered, but the brightest light before him was you. He blinked hard, fighting off the warmth burning at the corners of his eyes.
âThank you, angel.âÂ
âYou have to make a wish before you blow out the candles, though,â you told him with a sudden sense of seriousness. Heâd never understood cuteness aggression, but in that moment, he wanted to grab you and squeeze you so tight you could never leave him.Â
His wish was right in front of him.Â
âI already have everything I could have ever wanted.âÂ
Your face scrunched up, ready to poke back with a playful jab. His eyes were cracked open, the window to his soul oozing a vulnerability youâd only seen short glimpses of until then. He grabbed the cake from your hands, blowing the candles out, placing it down gently on the counter.Â
You froze. His hands swept up to your cheeks, his eyes flicking from yours, down to your lips. There was no sassy remark in your mind, only him. He caressed your cheeks like they were made of porcelain.Â
âWhy are you looking at me like you want to kiss me, Romeo?â your words throw him off guard, a shy smile creeping up your lips.Â
âBecause I do.âÂ
And when your lips met for the first time, it wasnât to win any bet. It was to savor something he didnât know he was allowed to want. To savor the feeling he never wanted to let go of.Â
When you fell asleep in his arms that night, in the matching pajamas youâd bought him for his birthday, he knew he had to put an end to it.Â
He rolled over, without waking you and texted Kelce.Â
âJust put 5k in your bank. Bet is off, no one says a word about it. Ever.âÂ
And he fell asleep, with a weight off his shoulders that had been holding him back for nearly two months at that point.Â
Maybe he wouldâve told you tomorrow, but he wanted to relish in this bliss you welcomed in him so openly.
You had to know. Youâd never left him outside. Not when heâd missed dinner to stay back at work. Not when heâd rode his bike over after drinking, knowing it scared the shit out of you. Youâd never left that door closed in his face.Â
He shouldâve told you the truth.Â
He shouldâve told you before he ever touched you.Â
Before he made you fall for the man that started this with a fucking wager.Â
But he didnât.Â
Because he was selfish.Â
The kind of selfish whoâd let the world burn to keep you in his arms.
The kind of selfish that needed you to feel alive.Â
The kind of selfish that knew heâd be nothing without you.Â
âYou know you donât have to do this, angel,â he whispered, peppering kisses down your neck. Heâd never been so nervous at the prospect of having sex, but with you, it felt like he was crumbling to pieces.Â
âI want to. I want it to be you.âÂ
That damn near broke him.
Not just your words, but the way you looked at him like he was something to be trusted.Â
Like he was something to be kept.Â
Like he was a good man, who deserved this.Â
He knew he didnât deserve this. He didnât deserve you. But you filled every missing piece heâd spent his whole life trying to find. He knew he was destined for hell, but he couldnât bring himself to stop.Â
The bet was on his conscience, but his heart yearned for you, and only you. He wanted to tell you. There had been so many times it nearly slipped out, but he couldnât bring himself to break your heart like that.Â
Youâd healed his heart. How would it be fair if he was the one to ruin yours?
He locked his lips on yours, taking his time to undress you. He let you touch every inch of his body, even the parts of himself he hated. The parts he would tell other girls to leave over. There was not a single part of him that didnât belong to you.Â
He pulled his lips back, his forehead pressed against yours. His breathing was ragged, and for a moment, he thought he was going to tell you. But the words that slipped from his mouth were a ton crueler than any mention of the bet.Â
âI love you, my beautiful angel.âÂ
And after all was said and done, heâd held onto you like you were all he had in this cold, cruel world. Youâd fallen asleep in his arms, wrapped up in his bliss, his gentleness lulling you into a dreamless sleep.Â
All he can think about is the way you shook when you let him in. Not into your bed, but into your heart. His whole world revolves around you, and the thought of you not knowing that makes him sick to his stomach.Â
All those mornings, talking about your future, where he couldâve told you about the bet. Where he couldâve told you how his love for you was the only thing he knows is real in this world. But he didnât.Â
Because Rafe Cameron is a selfish man.Â
âI want two. Preferably a boy and then a girl,â you said with a grin, looking up at him through post-sex hazed lids. Your hands trailed down his bare chest, and his hand mocked your movements, running along your back like a silent confession.Â
âTwo?!â he scoffed. âOne of you is already a full time job.âÂ
You rolled your eyes, ever so playfully pushing his forehead into the pillow, âShut up, Romeo. Youâd make the best daddy.âÂ
Your words stunned Rafe. Hell, they paralyzed him. The room got too quiet, and all Rafe could hear were his dadâs words of not being enough. Of never amounting to anything.Â
âYou think, angel?â he asked softly, his eyes bore into yours with a sincerity that only reared its head every now and again. You paused, not even realizing you were frowning. Youâd never doubted Rafe for a single moment.Â
âOf course. You donât even realize it, do you?âÂ
His head flicked down to you in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.Â
âYou already take care of me like youâd take care of them.âÂ
Rafe had to swallow the tears back, his voice cracking, âLike who?âÂ
âThe family weâre going to have one day, baby.âÂ
âAngel, please. Open the door.â Rafe pressed his head against the cool timber, itching to hear any sign of you on the other side. But heâs only met with silence. The kind of silence that brings him to his knees.Â
You donât know what possesses you to move to the door and open it. Seeing him there, on his knees through the doorbell, you feel guilty. He should be the one who feels guilty, yet you canât help but open the door.Â
A storm seemed comical on an evening like this, yet the rain hits Rafe like itâs trying to drown the truth out of him. You look down, seeing the rain soak through his shirt, and his unmoving figure, pleading with his whole being.Â
âI know I donât deserve you to open this door. I know I fucked itâgod, I fucked the most important thing in my life up, but I love you,â his voice breaks, twisting cruelly at your heartstrings, âI love you. I need you to believe that.âÂ
He was playing you like a fucking harp, like he has been these last few months.Â
âThe moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up, Rafe.â
Your words cut through his sobs like a relentless knife. He begins to shake frantically, his words sputtering out, âIt was never about the bet. Not after that first night. Not after I heard you laugh at my stupid fuckinâ jokes like I was something more than the asshole I am.âÂ
His words make you laugh. Not out of amusement, but out of sheer disbelief.Â
Heâd told you when he was younger, his mom used to put little polaroids of her and Ward in Wardâs phone case when he was sleeping. Sheâd sneak them in there, and heâd never say anything, but he knew it was there.Â
So when Rafe had bought you your very own polaroid camera, youâd made sure to sneak plenty of photos. Enough photos that when youâd finally sneak one into his phone case, itâd be unexpected.Â
The universe decided to make a big fat joke out of you though.Â
Heâd fallen asleep last night, assuming you were also sleeping. Youâd snuck the polaroid out of your nightstand, and picked his phone up to place it in the back of the clear case. You tucked it in there neatly, admiring the goofy smile on your faces.Â
That day heâd taken you to look at properties for development. Heâd grumbled around all day, and you still managed to make him laugh with a stupid joke.Â
âYou wanna hear a construction joke?âÂ
âSure.âÂ
âHang on, Iâm still workinâ on it.âÂ
His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, and you were in a fit of laughter before he responded. He tried so hard to keep the laugh in, but it was an impossible task.Â
âYou kill me, you know that?âÂ
You giggled quietly beside him, placing his phone back on the nightstand, unsuspecting, just like youâd planned.
Thatâs when you saw it.Â
The text from Kelce.Â
Kelce: still canât believe youâre wifing the girl we all bet you couldnât fuck đđ does she know?
Kelce: hope she likes the ring tho hahaha
Your arms are crossed, but not for warmth. For protection. Your silence is a thousand decibels louder than his sobs. His trembling hands find their way into his pocket, pulling out the ring that has become an unbearable weight.Â
Not just gold, but guilt, regret, and the shape of everything he ruined.Â
âI wake up, and youâre all I think about. I see that stupid stuffed rabbit you sleep with and I feel like Iâm home. You made me want more than this fuckinâ place. You made me better. I want to marry you.âÂ
Your eyes donât dare look at the ring. You donât even acknowledge it, your gaze locked on him like a wound you forgot you had.Â
The ring glimmers under the clouded sky, like a joke too cruel to laugh at.Â
âYou know what this looks like to me?â Thereâs hope in his eyes for a moment, his grip on the ring faltering briefly. Your eyes finally lock down onto the ring.Â
âIt looks like a trophy. For a game you were never supposed to win.âÂ
His pleas spew from his mouth, but he doesnât dare move. He watches his heart step away from him, and begins to forget how to breathe. You shut the door, and he hears the lock click, with a softness he could only expect from you.Â
When the finality of it settles in, heâs up on his feet, blinking in disbelief, like that might help to open the door. Heâs whispering your name like you might come back out. But you donât. The spare key is gone.Â
Reality hits. Hard.Â
âNo, no, no! Fuck!â His knuckles nearly split with the force he uses to knock on the door. Knuckles turn to palms, desperately pounding on the only barrier between your physical presence.Â
âYou donât get to walk away thinking I meant it like that! Please!â Heâs pacing, rain pouring down his face in a blend of hot and cold tears from him and the earth. His chest is heaving. He feels like heâs going to be sick.Â
He storms to the car, indifferent to his soaked self, in both rain and self-loathing. Once heâs in the driverâs seat, heâs punching the steering wheel until his knuckles finally burst at the seams.Â
When the blood snaps him back to reality, all he can do is grip the steering wheel with bloodied, white knuckles, his head pounding into the seat behind him. He canât leave. He canât drive. He canât think.Â
He throws the ring across the car, trying to get even a singular breath in. He canât breathe without you. Youâre his oxygen. His heartbeat. His sole reason for existing. But that ring is all he has left of you.Â
His Belle.Â
His fairytale.Â
Heâs scrambling to find it like a madman, unable to see through the tears streaming down his face. Youâre the only person who has ever been able to reason with him, and heâs fucked that up.Â
The tears turn into pulses of rage simmering beneath his skin, and he doesnât even remember driving to the Country Club.Â
Itâs a flash of red and pain that barely registers in his brain. The brief glimpses his brain allows him to see, heâs got Kelce by the neck against the wall, screaming in his face. He knows heâs a mess, but he doesnât fucking care.Â
The only opinion he cared about was yours.Â
He hurt you, he deserves to hurt too. He deserves to look like a piece of shit. He knows he is.Â
âYou think this is funny? Huh?!â Kelceâs shit-eating grin doesnât do him any favors, and Rafe is left seeing black again.Â
The next thing he remembers is being dragged off Kelce, and Barryâs voice firm in his ear, âCountry Cluâ! âS enough! Heâs had enough!âÂ
âShe was everything to me!âÂ
Blackness.Â
Later that night, heâs alone in his room, back against his bed. Heâs twirling the ring around his finger in one hand, downing an entire bottle of whiskey with the other. He doesnât cry. Not really. But his chest throbs with how badly he wants to.Â
He doesnât even think when he calls you. He knows you wonât answer. But he has to get it off his chest. Maybe heâll regret the voicemail in the morning, but right now, itâs the only form of solace he could possibly find.Â
âI was supposeâ to be better, for you. I was better. And I ruined it, like I ruin everythinâ. Fuck. I love you, my angel. Tell me you hate me to mâ face, okay? Dontâdonât just shut mâ out.â
if you'd like to be added to my taglist, comment, reblog or message me <3
still taking all and any requests for my 100 followers celebration too!! working on my requests as fast as possible, but my dad has just gotten out of a nearly 3 month long coma, so i'm spending quite a bit of time at the hospital too <3
i think thereâs not enough really angsty fanfics and this was EVERYTHING!!!
will there be a part two?
beyond the bet
part two of the bet
rafe cameron x reader
prompt: 'the moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up.'
warnings: more angst, but we love a good redemption arc <3, pining rafe, happy ending :)
wc: 6.8k (i got carried away and cried multiple times we're not talking about it)
a/n: thank you anon! this is the highly requested part two of the bet, which is part of my 100 followers celebration! this was healing to write, so i hope it's just as healing to read xx
rafe cameron masterlist
Sarahâs hand is steady.Â
Yours is the complete opposite.Â
âYou donât have to do this,â she murmurs. âNot for him. Not for anyone.âÂ
The smile that creeps up your lips is soft. Itâs sad, brave and content.Â
âI want to.âÂ
The night youâd found the text message from Kelce, you hadnât said anything. The shock hadnât worn off. It hadnât settled yet, instead just hovering thick and invisible.Â
You went to work like nothing was wrong. But Rafeâs betrayal crept up on you in waves. Not all at once, but enough to make your stomach churn with every memory that came flooding back.
Youâd found yourself hollow. Hollow enough to close the door. Hollow enough to shut out the one thing that ever made you feel like you were more than just âsome girl from The Cut.â
But clearly, you werenât.Â
Like everything good in your life, it crumbled. Not suddenly, but like the punchline of a long-running joke the universe never let you in on.
When your head settled into the pillow that night, no tears came. Just the scent of him, clung to the fabric like something alive, and the other side of the bed resting unnaturally, insultingly cold.Â
Youâd tried to cry. Willed for the tears to come. Begged for it. But the void was louder. It sucked you into endless spirals of what-ifs that left you wide-eyed and wide awake.
How could he keep that from you?
If he actually loved you, how had he allowed himself to keep such a monumental secret?
Would he have ever told you if you didnât see that text?Â
Would he have said, âI do,â with Kelce watching like the keeper of some terrible secret?Â
Would he even have said, âI do.â?
You count your steps.Â
Not in fear. Never again in fear.Â
In defiance.Â
Against every odd you were never meant to outrun.
One.Â
The night the door shut. The night you stopped pretending Rafeâs betrayal wasnât going to break you.
Two.Â
The day JJ let you fall apart in his arms without saying, âI told you so.â
The Pogues didnât shut you out. The deeper youâd embedded yourself into Rafeâs affection, theyâd still checked in every now and again, but theyâd stopped waiting for you to come back.
They never said it out loud, but the further you fell into Rafeâs world, the fewer texts came through. Fewer invites. Fewer places set at dinner.Â
Theyâd stopped asking if you were going to come over.Â
Even though it scared the living shit out of them, they let you have it.Â
Because for a while, youâd looked happy.Â
Kie showed up in the Twinkie like a soldier on a rescue mission. She didnât ask any questions, just came with open arms. You didnât want to be at home. Not when the walls still smelled like him.Â
Not when every sound made your heart jump with hope and dread.
You werenât sure what wouldâve hurt more. Him not showing up, or him looking at you like he still loved you.
His face always made you feel like he loved you. Like you were the air in his lungs.
But that look on his face when you shut the door, the wounded, pitiful one, made you feel like you were the one who burnt your own happiness to the ground.
Inside the walls that once felt like safety, you cracked open like a smashed glass. JJ caught you mid-fall. He held you whilst you cried, letting you spew out the questions and regrets that clawed at your heart.Â
Kie settled by your side, her body heat doing nothing to relax the tremors wreaking havoc through your body. She just let you breathe.Â
âWhy did I let myself fall for him?â
Your voice cracked, your hands trembled.Â
âI shouldâve known better. He was never going to love a Pogue.âÂ
You couldnât even look at them when you whispered the last part.Â
âWhy was I so stupid? How didnât I see that I was just a piece in his game?âÂ
They didnât try to give you the answers. They held you. Gave you their presence. They fed you. Made you shower. Dragged you outside long enough to feel the sun again.Â
And somehow, that was enough. Enough to keep breathing on your own.
They deleted the voice message that you kept playing like a lullaby. The one where he said âI love you,â like it still meant something. They pulled you back before you could spiral into the guilt of not telling him you hated him.Â
Because deep down, you didnât.Â
Youâd quit the Country Club without a word, ignoring the dozen missed calls from your boss. You couldnât go back. Not when his presence haunted the walls. That place didnât just remind you of him.Â
It belonged to him.
Even worse, it was the place where you let him claim pieces of your heart, one soft lie at a time.
Youâd stopped showing up. To shifts at work. To people. To yourself.
Instead you clocked into the bait shop and didnât leave until your body forced you to. You clung to the friends who never made you feel foolish for falling in love with a boy who pretended to be a man.Â
A man with a heart made of pretty promises and cold silence.
Heâd never felt icy. Heâd felt like the kiss of a summer breeze right before a hurricane. Heâd felt like the shelter from the storm you didnât know heâd caused. He made you feel like the universe had finally remembered you existed.Â
But above all, he felt like a lie with a beating heart and blue eyes that forced you to believe him anyway.
The kind of lie that made you question every time he looked at you like he was your future.Â
The kind of lie that humiliated you in front of yourself.Â
No one can see your heart pounding. But you feel it. In your ears, your knees, in the way your ribcage canât seem to hold it still. Itâs thrashing. Desperate to claw its way out of your chest to beat normally again.Â
 Youâre staring straight ahead at those doors.Â
You know once you cross that threshold, thereâs no turning around.Â
Not from this version of yourself.
The night was still. Still enough to hear your own thoughts for once.Â
Until it wasnât.
Youâd been cleaning the counter at the bait shop, when you heard the unmistakable roar of Rafeâs bike closing in on you. JJ instantly shot up, slamming his beer down, jaw already clenched like heâd been expecting this.
Always your loyal soldier.Â
JJ Maybank, the boy with a reckless heart, bruised knuckles and a moral compass that always pointed in your direction.
You were frozen, rooted to the floor like fear had turned your blood to concrete. He was here. And he was invading the only place that had started to feel like yours again. He tossed his helmet into the dirt, and JJ was on him before he could step foot under the soft light of the shop.Â
âYou need to leave, Rafe.âÂ
JJâs voice was steel. No cracks. No wiggle room. But Rafeâs eyes found you, behind the counter, trembling, and it was like nothing else existed. He looked strung out, pupils wide and wild, like he hadnât seen daylight in weeks.
He hadnât seen you in weeks at that point. Heâd kept his distance physically, instead flooding your phone with voicemail confessions and apologies he never had the courage to say to your face. He told himself he was giving you space.Â
But now, he needed to see you. Even if it ruined him.
ââM not goinâ anywhere, I need to talk to her.â Rafeâs voice was cold, his hands working to shove JJ aside, his eyes set on you. Even with the tears in your eyes, all he could think about is how badly he missed you.Â
Because, as youâd learnt, Rafe Cameron is indeed a selfish man.Â
JJ didnât flinch, shoving Rafe back so hard his boots dragged across the dirt, âYouâre not talkinâ to her. Not in this state.â His voice was a quiet growl, dripping promise opposed to threat.Â
âSober up and get the fuck off my property before I put you in the dirt.â JJ was practically spitting at Rafe, shoulders arched in a way that dared Rafe to test him.Â
Behind the bar, your hands began to shake. You didnât even realize you were holding your breath until your head began to spin. Rafe shoved JJ again, like he was just a small hurdle in the way of his prize.Â
âFuck off, Maybank. She needs to know âm sorry.â Rafe snarled, fighting against JJâs grip, holding him back. Holding him away from you. JJ almost felt bad for Rafe in that moment. Almost.Â
Rafe had been a dick to JJ, yet the blonde couldnât help but feel something that resembled pity towards him. The way Rafeâs eyes reddened when he saw you, the way his tears betrayed his prideful ego.Â
Youâd fucked Rafe up, just as badly as he had you.Â
âRafe, leave. Now.â JJ stood firm, adrenaline keeping himself anchored onto Rafe. He could feel your anguish across the store, and he wasnât about to let Rafe worsen it. Rafe shook his head, charging forward.Â
JJ had no choice. His fist collected Rafeâs jaw in a steady swoop, knocking him right on his ass. You didnât even stop him. You froze. Your stomach curled up like something had just died inside of you.Â
Your brain screamed at you to move. To shout. To step between them. But those concrete veins prevailed. Your heart? It was already bleeding again.Â
Rafe was already clamoring to his feet, before JJ struck him with another brutal punch.Â
And Rafe just laughed.Â
He spat the blood in his mouth onto the dirt, attention now on JJ.Â
âHit me!â Rafe laughed, broken and bloody.
âI fuckinâ deserve it ând you know it.âÂ
JJ froze. You did too. Because he wasnât fighting back. He was begging for pain.
JJ couldnât bring himself to swing again. He grabbed Rafe by the collar and dragged him to his bike, and stood tall until he left. He left, and once again, you were left picking up the pieces of rubble he always left in his wake.
You felt every emotion under the sun, possibly even emotions science hadnât yet identified.Â
Emotions that sat in your throat like glass, slicing their way into your chest.Â
So you did what you could. You couldnât afford therapy, so you focused on distracting yourself. You broke your lease and moved in with the Pogues. You saved up for a camera like it was your salvation.Â
Started taking pictures like your life depended on it.
Tourists, Kook weddings, baby bumps, family photoshoots and seaside sunsets. You fell in love with life again, one shutter click at a time. Each smile, each person reminding you that thereâs eight billion people on this earth, and maybe one day, youâll experience happiness like them again.Â
You started making more money than you knew what to do with. Bookings came faster than you could breathe, each shoot a step further from the version of yourself that used to beg for scraps of love.Â
You found yourself in country clubs and coastal estates. In the same world that once belonged to him. But now you were behind the lens, and for the first time in your life, you were the one holding the power.
Until one day, he was there.Â
And the ground didnât shake.Â
Your heart didnât break.Â
But it did⌠stir.Â
The Pogues surround you, beaming like theyâve just watched you conquer the world. JJâs hand squeezes yours, steady and silent, reminding you that youâre never alone. You try to focus on the moment.Â
But your mind drifts back to that day. The day where the red string tugged. No rain. No thunder.Â
Just the quiet pull of fate.Â
âYou look good,â his voice cracked the air like a match. You blinked, pulling your eye from the viewfinder like youâd just been caught committing a crime. Of course he was here. The Camerons and the Lowes were business partners.
âYou look⌠better,â you muttered, eyeing him up and down. He did look better than the last time you saw him. When he came to the shop, and left his pride at your feet. He also had no hair now, which made you do a double take.Â
âIâm clean. Seven months.â Your lips parted, but no words came. All you could do was nod. Speaking felt like betrayal. Betrayal to your dignity, to your healing and to the reputation youâd built from the ashes of loving him.
You werenât just you anymore. You were your brand. Your name. Your work. And your name didnât flinch when he said things like that.Â
âCongratulations.âÂ
There was an uneasy beat of silence.Â
âThank you. And âm not saying that to win you back. Iâm sayinâ it because you deserve to know.âÂ
You didnât get the chance to say, âIâm proud of you.âÂ
Or, âIâm scared of what you still mean to me.âÂ
Or anything, really.Â
Because as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared.Â
Fuck, youâre glad the photos paid for therapy. Real therapy. Not âhealing through distraction.â Not Kieâs borrowed journals. Actual therapy, where saying his name for the first time felt like hauling a boulder uphill with bloodied hands.Â
But you did it, and every session since has been a brick of emotional turmoil excavated from your chest.
âI think I hate him.âÂ
Thatâs what you told the box of tissues in front of you, because the tissues couldnât judge you.Â
âBut I miss him so much I feel sick.âÂ
Your therapist just nodded, because she knew. Love isnât always clean. Grief is never clean.Â
Youâd headed to a local bar to try and ease the thinking your brain was forcing upon you, post-therapy session. Youâd drunk enough to sedate a horse, but it was never enough to forget about himâor what he did.Â
And of course, the universe had to poke fun at you once more.Â
âThat Cameron boy? Been volunteering âround my place since spring. Quiet kid, but he works hard.â Said casually, like the crustless cucumber sandwich between sips of mimosas. The old ladyâs words hit you sideways.
Rafe?
Working hard? Volunteering?
The same boy who bought and flipped homes like a game of Monopoly?
He wasnât a hard worker. He was a talker. A manipulator.Â
A charm-your-mama-before-he-breaks-your-heart type.
Wasnât he?
Rafeâs palms sweat like heâs back in the courtroom. This time though, itâs not the judge heâs scared of.Â
Every minute of work.Â
Every sober morning.
Every aching, gut-wrenching therapy session.Â
Itâs all been building to this moment.Â
He didnât even know you were there. But his therapist had said, âKeep doing the work. The right people will find you again.âÂ
He didnât think that would include you.Â
There he was, side by side with Wheezie, laughing at something sheâd said, like the world hadnât broken both of you a dozen times over.Â
It was just the monthly âbeach tidy.â Locals. Volunteers. Garbage bags. Nothing poetic.Â
Until he was in the frame.Â
You went every month. It was your thing. Your breath of clean salted air. Your reset button. A way to give back to the world.Â
And he was never there, until he was.
He looked different. Lighter. Like heâd laid something heavy down and walked away from it. His shoulders, the ones that used to carry ego and rage like armor, were loose. Relaxed. It wasnât performative. It wasnât a show.Â
It was peace, and that terrified you.
You didnât mean to do it. Your fingers moved on instinct. Your eye slipped behind the lens, where it was safe, and you captured him. The way he smiled. The way Wheezie laughed beside him, hands equally as dirty as her brotherâs.
The way he didnât look broken anymore.Â
Later that night, curled up on the top bunk, you stared at the photo like it might blink back. It made something shift in your chest. Something youâd worked so hard to bury beneath logic and pain.Â
Youâd told yourself you were done with him.
That you werenât going to will your heart to be shattered in his hands again.
But there he was. Doing something good when he thought no one was watching. Where thereâs no party. No camera. No performance. Just his sister, the sand, and the gentle lap of the waves.Â
Your fingers twitched over the delete button. You knew you shouldnât keep it.Â
You knew how it went. One photo becomes curiosity. Curiosity becomes memory. And memory becomes the ache to call him, and beg him to tell you he loves you. Because being broken by Rafe Cameron, had left an empty pit in your stomach that craved his validation to fill.Â
You didnât delete the photo.Â
Youâd talked about men like him in therapy. Users. Liars. Boys who begged for love and offered rot in return. You knew better now, and yet, his soul called to yours like a familiar song in a burning building.Â
You could run, or you could turn around and listen.Â
Whether it be weeks or months, he always found a way to be there, and chip away at your resolve and anger, one glimpse at a time.Â
Despite the way he broke you, despite the betrayal and the deep ugly scar heâd left on your heart, part of you wanted to believe that maybe he mightâve changed.Â
And that scared the living shit out of you.Â
You remember when you were sure this day would never come. Not like this. And sure as hell not with him.Â
âYou ready?â JJ murmurs, his arm hooking through yours like a lifeline. Unknowingly, he takes half of your weight. Half of your nerves. Half of your fear. You shake out your free hand, trying to toss the jitters onto the floor like spilled rice.
âAs ready as Iâll ever be.â Itâs barely a whisper, but somehow, JJ hears the steel behind it.
Youâd gone alone to the beach, wanting to catch a glimpse of the sunset, possibly a photo too. Headphones on, sundress flowing around your body with the slight breeze, you walked aimlessly.Â
Youâd found yourself in front of the Country Club, by some freak of nature. You hadnât expected to see him again, especially not only a few days after the photo. A few days for you to try and compose yourself and remind yourself that he splintered your idea of love.Â
But there he was.Â
Tucked behind the bar, chatting away to Wheezie by his side. His demeanor was delicate with her. He oozed a protective aura around her, yet his eyes stayed gentle, and he actually seemed to be listening to her ramblings.Â
He noticed you first this time.Â
He didnât move. Didnât smile. He just gave you a polite nod.Â
You nodded back, continuing to walk further down the beach, trying to get the encounter out of your mind. Youâd thought that was it. It shouldâve been. History only rewrites itself. Noâthatâs not what your therapist said, but whatever.Â
Wheezie hadnât missed the interaction. She chased you down, sand-crusted and pink-cheeked, heart on her sleeve. âHe didnât know you were gonna be here,â she blurted out, like she was trying to catch the apology before it slipped too far between you.Â
It felt like she was trying to hand you a bandage you werenât sure you needed. Like she still felt the gravity of your name stitched into Rafeâs heart.Â
âI didnât know heâd be here either,â you murmured, offering the young lady an indifferent smile. You hadnât intended on being rude, but your eyes kept flicking up to Rafe, who sat at the bar, frozen solid.Â
He was terrified. Not of you, but of what Wheezie might spill. She was the only person heâd ever really spoken to about you. The only one who knew he still whispered your name every therapy session.
You two were out of earshot, but Rafe knew his gut instinct was right when he saw Wheezie speak, and your brows furrow.Â
âHe talks about you. Not like a weirdo or anything,â she spoke quickly, like you were going to run before she could get the words out, âjust⌠like how he wants to be someone youâd still be proud of.âÂ
You didnât trust your voice to respond. Although young, Wheezie could tell there were no more words to be exchanged anymore. Sheâd seen what Rafe had gone through. Sheâd seen him get clean.Â
Sheâd seen him cry in front of her.Â
Sheâd seen the way he would take her to the cinema after a therapy session, never talking about it straight away. Heâd stew on it in the dark, with his sister beside him like silence could keep him whole.
Sheâd seen the way he was trying so desperately to make amends with Sarah, who was surely the next Cameron to require therapy.Â
Sheâd seen the way he began to help the community, participated in fundraisers, volunteered to clean and repair boats for the elderly, and helped people carry their groceries to their car.Â
Sheâd seen the impact of you, embedded into every inch of Rafeâs once bleak, arrogant heart.Â
Sheâd seen the way your ghost had pulled him towards goodness.
The way your absence shaped him into something softer.Â
Because thatâs who heâd fallen in love with all those months ago.Â
Thatâs who heâd been in love with all those months.Â
Thatâs who he wanted to make people feel, because it was the most perfect feeling in the whole wide world to him.Â
Sarah tugs one last time on the strap settled against your shoulder, grounding you with the quiet efficiency only a sisterhood can offer. It still doesnât feel real, but it feels earned.
The music changes, and you know this is as real as it will ever get.Â
Raw, honest, broken and healed.Â
As fucking real as it gets, like the scar left behind was always supposed to become part of the map.
Your breath stops.Â
After talking to Wheezie, you found yourself wandering down to sit on the end of the dock, watching the world fall asleep one shutter click at a time. You didnât even notice his boots until they were too close to ignore.
Then he sat beside you, quietly, like heâd been summoned by the tide.
There was enough space to pretend he wasnât there. Just enough wind between you to feign indifference. But you didnât. You turned your shoulders towards the sea and let yourself feel the weight of him beside you.Â
He gave you enough space. Enough to choose if it wouldâve been a moment, or just a memory.
He didnât want to speak. He just sat there, letting the hush of your camera fill the gaps his words wouldâve cracked wide open. As with every time you thought about him, your therapistâs voice played in your head.Â
âI think itâd be good to talk to him about your feelings. Putting your cards on the table can provide you with a sense of closure.âÂ
âAbsolutely not. I would rather fuck a chainsaw than tell him how bad it hurt. I donât want to give him the satisfaction.âÂ
But fuck it.Â
Letting go didnât mean forgetting. It just meant finally putting the chainsaw down.
âI still think about that text, you know,â your voice was sharper than youâd intended. But he nods anyway, because he truly does understand. After all, you couldnât possibly hate him more than he hated himself.Â
You realized in that moment that he wasnât fighting. He wasnât trying to make excuses. He wasnât defending his actions. He just let the weight of accountability sit heavy on his shoulders, alongside the hope that maybe⌠just maybe, youâd let him keep it.
âYou hate me, and you should because fuck-I hate me. What I did⌠what I didnât sayââÂ
You cut him off.Â
âYou lied to me, Rafe. I saw it all with you. I saw the white picket fence, the perfect wedding, the family. And to have that torn out under me because you couldnât be honest with me? I trusted you with my life.âÂ
âAnd I donât think Iâll ever be able to give anyone that part of me ever again.âÂ
His face cracked. He didnât hide it. His pride was something he savored for his impactful decisions, not his once fragile ego. He leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers knotted like he was trying to hold himself together.Â
âI wanted to tell you. I swear I did. But every time I looked at you⌠I-â his voice cracked, and tears began to pool along the rim of his pretty blue eyes. You wanted to wipe them, but the distance from him was the only thing keeping you sane.Â
âI didnât want to lose it. I didnât want to lose you. Youâre the only person who ever made me feel like I mattered. I know it was fucked up. Iâm sorry.âÂ
He swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, like he was prepared for you to tell him you hate him. To get that final piece of closure heâd been searching for through months of his good deeds and unravelling of the worst parts of himself.Â
âYou already had me, Rafe,â your voice shook.
âYou didnât need to lie.âÂ
He looked down at his hands, letting the waves fill the beat of silence between you.Â
âI didnât think I deserved you. So part of me⌠I think I was waiting for it to all blow up. Like it always does. I kept waiting for the catch. And when it didnât come⌠I guess I let myself become it.âÂ
You closed your eyes, turning your head away from him. That was like a kick straight to the heart, stumbling the beat. You knew the taste of self-sabotage all too well. Of not feeling good enough for anyone from the mess youâd become.Â
Youâd felt like that before him.Â
And youâd felt like that after him.Â
âYou know, in therapy, they told me that forgiveness isnât a gift. Itâs a decision. A commitment,â your voice cracked slightly. You wanted to continue, but Rafe had another weight he wanted to get off his chest.Â
âIâve been going to therapy twice a week for eight months now. At first, it was for you. I wanted you to think I was sorting my shit out, but the more I went, the more I realized I needed it.â His confession lingered heavily in the air.Â
It was a bruising weight. The silence.Â
Your eyes finally came up to meet his, blurred by your own tears threatening to spill. You blinked against the sting, âI donât think Iâm ready for the commitment of forgiveness yet, Rafe. But I see youâre trying.â
He didnât reach for your hand like he wanted to. He just nodded, eyes fragile on you, like you were the bear ready to come barrelling through his china shop. He went silent. No breath. No movement.Â
This was the closure he came over here for, right?Â
âIâm not ready. I donât know if Iâll ever be ready again. But I see you trying, Rafe. And Iâd be lying to the both of us if I said that didnât mean something.â
âIâd wait a hundred years for you to be ready, angel.â
The pet name didnât sting as bad as it once did. It didnât make your stomach churn like it did when youâd shut the door in his face. It landed tastefully on your tongue, with a glimmer of hope sneaking in beside it.Â
âYouâve got a hundred years of waiting, you may as well walk me home.âÂ
His lips parted. The glimmer of hope seemed to wash over him too, flashing behind his eyes like a dreamy sunset. He didnât rush anything. He didnât rush to reach you. He didnât ask for more.Â
Instead, for the first time, he met you where you were.Â
And he continued meeting you where you were.Â
He stepped in to help with a wedding shoot when JJ bailed last minute. No fanfare. No fuss. Just steady hands on the reflectors, gear fetched before you even asked, kids laughing at his stupid jokes.Â
He didnât make it about him.
Just showed up. Held space. Respected yours.Â
Heâd packed up every last lens and tripod without waiting for permission. When the sun began to bleed orange across the sky, he lingered by your car.
âYouâre really good at this, yâknow?âÂ
It had been so long since his praise didnât feel like a trapdoor. But this time, you didnât flinch. You didnât brace. You just heard him.Â
He worked his way back into your orbit, not with apologies, but with presence. Every move was deliberate, cautious, patient and grounded in something that felt real.Â
He wasnât chasing forgiveness. He was building trust.
He wanted to be the kind of man you could rely on. The kind of man his father never taught him how to be.
He wanted to be someone you could put every last drip of your faith into, and be able to handle it with the care it deserved. He never wanted to be the boy who broke everything he touched, ever again.Â
âWait!â Kieâs voice cuts through the air, her gaze sweeping over you like sheâs searching for cracks.Â
âWhereâs your something blue?âÂ
Your chest finally lets go of its bated breath. You raise your hand.
âRight here.âÂ
The blue diamond glints on your finger, not loud or flashy. Just enough.
It wasnât grand. It was like your love. It was raw, steady, and unshakably yours. Just the two of you. The same barstools at the Country Club where you first met him. The same spot where heâd fallen in love with you.Â
When neither of you knew what love really meant yet.Â
âIf you can forgive me,â he said, the tear tracking down his cheek doing all the confessing for him. He didnât wipe it away. He wore it.
âI want to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve this second chance with you.âÂ
You didnât say a word.
You couldnât.Â
Not when your heart had already answered for you.
âI want to marry you. I want the family, the dog, the white picket fenceâfuck, angelâwhatever you want to do, I want to do it with you.âÂ
You said yes. Not because he begged. But because he didnât have to.Â
He proved that he had become a better man, not just through his words, but through his actions.Â
Heâd earnt that spot that consumed your whole heart and soul.Â
The spot that still remembered how he used to hurt, and chose him anyway.Â
Heâd earnt your trust back, week by week, month by month.Â
And you could confidently say you trusted him with the shattered pieces of your heart that he was grown enough to repair after breaking them.Â
It wasnât perfect.Â
You never expected perfect.Â
You expected honesty, and reality.
And he was going to spend the rest of his life giving it to you.Â
The blue diamond shimmers under the sunlight. Blue, for loyalty. For devotion. It cost Rafe more than half his property portfolio, but he didnât even flinch.
He wouldâve given anything he had if it meant holding your hand at the altar.
When the doors open, and you see him at the end of the aisle, all of your worries melt away.Â
Heâs standing tall in his sleek navy suit, shoulders squared. But he looks like a man on his knees. Not because heâs weak. But because you still bring him to them.Â
Each step you take is certain. Thereâs no hesitation. No fear. Youâve both worked so hard to get to where you are today, and everyone around you knows it.Â
JJ leads you down the aisle, arm locked through yours like itâs holding you up. He leans in, voice low enough that it curls beneath your veil, âLast chance to back out, Princess.â
You laugh, breathy and watery, trying not to smudge your makeup, âIâm not running.â JJ brushes his thumb over your knuckles in a quiet way that says: Good. Iâve got you.Â
âGood,â he says, watching the aisle like a soldier. âBecause if he hurts you again, Iâll have to break every bone in his body.â You donât doubt it. You laugh louder this time. Rafe sees the exchange, the way JJâs hand is still looped through yours.Â
The corners of his mouth twitch, like heâs fighting back a smile, and a sob, and a lifetime of regret all at once. Heâs definitely not fighting back those tears, but neither are you.Â
You reach Rafe. JJ takes your hand and presses it gently into Rafeâs waiting palm. He doesnât joke. He doesnât threaten. He just looks at Rafe, blue eyes hard and full of history. Donât fuck this up without ever saying it.
âSheâs my best girl,â JJ says. Calm. Steady. âDonât make me regret letting her go.âÂ
Rafe nods. Once. Firm. Like it means everything.
No bravado.Â
No ego.Â
Just reverence.Â
âNever.âÂ
The ceremony was small. No microphones. No stage. Just the people who mattered, close enough to hear your heartbeat and the crack in your voice. You didnât want a production. You wanted a promise.
Kelce wasnât there. Neither was Topper, or any of the other Kooks who once scoffed at the idea of Rafe Cameron loving a Pogue. And you didnât miss them.Â
âWhen we get married, are you going to get all sappy with your vows?â Youâd asked the question, perched on Rafeâs bare chest. Long before the text message. Long before you knew about the bet. When it was just you and him, planning a future together.Â
He rolled his eyes.Â
âLike in sickness and in health?â his gut twisted as he played it coy. He was going to tell you in that moment. Because fuck yes he wanted to marry you, and he absolutely wanted to get sappy with his vows, but only if you knew the truth.Â
âYouâre so unserious, like, all the time.âÂ
âYou just bring out the calmest side of me Iâve ever known, angel.âÂ
You let out a shaky breath, his thumb caressing your knuckles the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.
âI didnât think weâd get here,â you begin, voice cracking just a little. A nervous ripple of laughter breaks through the small crowd. Everyone knows. The rise. The fall. The redemption. Hell, in the Outer Banks, your love story was practically public record.
Your eyes blur before the second sentence even comes.Â
âThere was a time I thought Iâd only ever say these words in my head.â
A pause.
âAnd even then, they felt too big.âÂ
âWhen I met you, I didnât know what it meant to be loved by a storm,â you glance at him, and he smiles, but his eyes are brimming with heated emotion.
âYou were wild. Untouchable. Like a tide I couldnât stop.âÂ
âI didnât want to stop. I wanted every part of you⌠Even the ones you hadnât figured out how to love yet.âÂ
There goes your makeup.Â
âWhen it all broke, I thought we were done. I thought that love had to come easy to be real.âÂ
Your hand shakes. His doesnât.
âBut now I know better. Love is the work. Itâs the fight. Itâs the showing up, even when it hurts.âÂ
Your voice breaks, struggling to get the last of your words out, âYou showed up. Even when I didnât want to see you. Even when I shut every door. You grew. You became someone who loves honestly. And wholly. And bravely.âÂ
You smile through the tears, barely able to see him through the floodgates that have crashed open down your face.Â
âI donât want a perfect man. I just want you.âÂ
The whole room holds its breath as your voice cracks.
âAnd I promise to choose you.â
âEvery version.âÂ
âEvery day.âÂ
âEvery storm.âÂ
He pulls away from your hands to wipe his eyes, laughing in pure elation. You dab your eyes, looking around at your closest friends and family. The Pogues are all in tears. Ward even has a stern tear welling in his eye.Â
âHow am I supposed to compete with that angel?â Rafe whispers, only loud enough for you and Pope, who was officiating the wedding, to hear. You let out a sniffle, reaching for his hands again as he begins his vows.Â
He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his voice.Â
âI was scared of you at first.âÂ
You blink, startled. But then he smiles. The kind of smile he only ever saved for you.
âNot because you were scary. Because you saw me. Even the parts I wanted to pretend werenât there.â He takes your bouquet of flowers from your hand, passing them to Pope. He grabs both of your hands tightly, fingers toying with your engagement ring settled on your finger.Â
âIâve lied. Iâve hurt people. Iâve run from every good thing thatâs ever come close.â
âBut not you. You were the first thing I ever wanted to stay for,â his voice breaks, and you move closer, knowing it might help calm him down.Â
âI didnât know how to love you right. But you made me want to.â
âWhen I lost you, I realized I couldnât live proud. Not unless I earned the right to look you in the eye again.âÂ
Your lip wobbles, and he has to look down at your dress to stop himself from melting into you.Â
âI donât deserve you,â his eyes meet yours now, steadier now, âBut I honor you.â
âAnd I promiseâIâll spend the rest of my life learning how to be the man you saw in me⌠even when I didnât believe he existed.âÂ
Suddenly, âI do,â felt like the perfect promise to forever.Â
Later in the evening, the party has began to quieten down, after your first dance as husband and wife with Rafe, JJ clambered onto a table, clinking his glass obnoxiously.Â
âAhem! I would like to make a toast⌠to Mr and Mrs Cameron,â he grins, pausing to relish in the cheers. âWhen she told me she was marrying Rafe, I thought sheâd lost the plot.âÂ
Scattered laughter follows, some uneasy, some relieved, but you and Rafe just beam. JJ softens, that playful facade dissolving into the kind of rawness he rarely ever lets through.
âBut then I saw him. Really saw him. He was⌠scared, man. Scared sheâd never forgive him. Scared heâd never be enough.â Rafe squeezes your waist tighter. Because JJâs words arenât just true. Theyâre him.Â
âAnd then it hit me. Iâve never seen Rafe Cameron scared of anything. Not the law. Not his parents. Not even himself.âÂ
A tear pricks the corner of Rafeâs eye. JJ raises his glass into the air.Â
âSo hereâs to love. Real love. The kind you bleed for. The kind you beg for. The kind you build for. Because if these two crazy people can make it⌠maybe thereâs hope for the rest of us too.âÂ
You raise your glass through blurry eyes, not expecting JJ of all people to be the one to make you cry again today.
Life always has had a funny way of letting love into your heart when you least expect it.Â
6 YEARS LATER
Sunlight spills through the curtains, layering golden warmth across your chest. Thereâs a weight there, not heavy, not burdened. Just solid. The kind of weight youâd spent your whole life longing for.
Your son.Â
Rafe walks in, falling in love with you all over again, like he does every single day. The sight of you cradling your two-year-old, safe and small on your chest, makes his heart swell with something deeper than pride.
Not the cheap kind of pride that had him betting on your virginity. This pride felt earned. Grounded. The kind that said heâd done better with his life.Â
Heâd done better than his dad. As a father. As a husband.Â
He passes you a cup of coffee, sinking into the sofa beside you, careful not to wake your boy. Then as softly as ever, he brushes the loose strand of hair from your face, that same smile decorating his pretty face.
âHow did I get so lucky, hmm?âÂ
You smile sleepily, fingertips tracing slow circles over your son's back. Steady, soothing and familiar.
âYou showed up, Rafe.âÂ
âYou always showed up.â
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â¤ď¸âđŠšex!husband!rafe fucking you after a fight with his girlfriend
He had no business coming over. Your divorce has been finalised months ago, by then he already got himself a new girl. He came alone at your door, frustrated and heated, said he argued with her, how mad it got him. So whatâŚitâs not your problem.
âHold it tighter Rafe!â you exclaimed with a whine, encouraging him to pull your leg around his hip. You both stood in your kitchen, your lower back leaning on the counter as you held balance on one leg.
âAhm.â he only muttered, pressed into you like ink in paper, moving his cock into you deeper. He helped you stand, grunting every time he felt your leg twitch. âOh fuck!â he attacked your throat, teeth scratching. âFuck, I have missed this pussy. This fucking heat.â
Your lips met, moving a hand behind his neck, needing him closer. He kept increasing his pace, melting into your mouths embrace.
âShit. You are already gonna make me cum.â he panted into your mouth, slowing down. âDamn Iâve needed you.â he said as he looked into your eyes, you bit your lip at the desperation, his motionless and yet hard cock spacing you.
âRafe, if you donât keep fucking me I will kick you out.â your frustration blasted out in an annoyed voice, his throat rumbled in response. âGet mad at me, sweetheart, thatâs how I like you.â
He takes a hold of your other leg, now having both of your legs wrapped around his waist. His hands grab the bottom of your ass, as he starts drilling in to you, all while standing, as if no effort was needed. Only uncontrollable need to have you moan senseless while he fucks you deep.
He was your ex-husband, the man that made you go mad with his behaviour and actions. Always relentless and rash. But you would be a damn liar if you said you didnât want him anymore. The divorce was an attempt to start over, try something else, but you know, it was a weak one, and unsuccessful.
You both still needed each other, physically, mentally, only neither was going to admit it out loud. But having you moan his name and he repeating how glad he is to be able to fuck you again, were confessions, in your way.
PLEASE some rafe is an asshole to everyone but reader fluff!!!!
everyone hates him. your friends think heâs rude. your neighbor crosses the street when he sees him coming. even the barista at that coffee shop on main visibly flinched when rafe smirked and said âdonât fuck up her drink again.â
and okay, fine, he can be a dickâhe likes being a dick. it gets him what he wants faster, and he hates small talk, and he genuinely doesnât care if anyone likes himâas long as you do. and you do.
you hear his voice before you round the corner. itâs sharp, disdain curling off every syllable. whatever conversation was happening on the boneyard bench before you got there has clearly gone downhill fast.
âjesus, topper,â rafe snaps, âdo you ever think before you open your mouth?â
topperâs standing, arms out like heâs trying to defend himself, but rafeâs leaned back on the bench, legs wide, jaw tight, murder in his eyes. you pause for half a second. then you move. without saying a word, you slip between them and drop onto the bench beside rafe. itâs casual, innocent, like you didnât just sit next to a loaded weapon.
he doesnât react right away. not verbally, at least. but his hand finds your knee almost instantly. it settles there like it belongs, thumb rubbing over your skin in a slow circle. like he wasnât just seconds away from strangling his childhood best friend.
topper blinks. âoh. hey.â
you give him a polite smile. âhi.â
rafe doesnât look at topper again. he doesnât need to. the shift in him is obvious, almost absurd. his posture eases, his voice drops an octave. âhi, baby,â he says, like the word tastes good.
âhi, rafey.â you blush with a grin. âyou done verbally assaulting your friends?â
âdepends,â he mutters. âyou gonna keep me from finishing the job?â you roll your eyes, but your hand slips into his anyway, fingers threading through his lazily. he squeezes once, like heâs already won something. âhe was being an idiot,â rafe mutters under his breath, mostly to you now. âsaying dumb shit like you wouldnât be able to handleâŚâ
âhandle what?â
ânothing,â topper cuts in quickly. âit was a joke, dude.â
rafe levels him with a look that could kill a lesser man. âit wasnât funny,â he says flatly. then, turning to you, he melts. his eyes soften, his lips curl into a smile. âyou okay?â
you nod. âjust tired.â rafe hums in reply. his hand moves, slides around your shoulders like itâs second nature, pulling you closer. you end up curled into his side, chin tucked near his collarbone, and he kisses the top of your head like itâs just another tuesday.
ârest,â he says, mouth brushing your hair. âiâll deal with him.â
âyouâre so dramatic,â you murmur, voice muffled by his shirt.
he smirks. âyou like it.â god help you, you do.
topper stands awkwardly for another beat, then finally mutters, âiâll justâŚgo.â
âgreat idea,â rafe calls lazily, already playing with the hem of your sleeve like he didnât just verbally eviscerate someone two minutes ago. as soon as topperâs gone, he exhalesâlong and slowâand rests his cheek against your head. âthanks for saving his life,â he murmurs. âi was close.â
âyouâre awful.â
âi know,â he whispers. âbut iâm nice to you.â itâs true, and when rafe is nice, itâs not performativeâitâs real. itâs in the way he runs his fingers through your hair, in the way he always has a hoodie for you before you ask, in the way heâd go to war for you and sleep soundly after.
rafe cameron is an asshole to everyoneâexcept you. and he doesnât even knows how not to love you.
Like maybe reader is mad at rafe for speaking to Sofia or something, so she goes on a date with top and rafe finds out and is mad
warnings: penetrative sex (18+), jealous!rafe, toxic relationship
you donât answer his calls. you donât answer his texts, either. so rafe shows upâhair messy, attitude worse, eyes already stormy. âyou think iâm fucking stupid?â the doorâs barely shut before heâs on you. not touching. just towering, voice sharp and low, like heâs trying not to lose it. âyou went out with topper?â
you arch a brow. âand?â
his jaw tics. heâs in that threadbare grey tee you love, jeans riding low on his hips. he didnât bother changingâhe came straight from wherever he was, too angry to think about anything but you.
yeah, you did it to get a reaction. because two days ago, you saw him leaning way too close to sofia, talking all low and pretty like he doesnât have his dick in you every other night. so, naturally, you went out with top. you ordered the prettiest drink, wore the dress rafe likes to fuck you in, laughed a little too loud, and let your hand rest on topâs arm when you said goodbye.
âyou mad?â you ask now, sickly sweet.
rafe laughs, once. itâs cold. âyou didnât fuck him, did you?â you donât answer. his hand flies out, catches your jawânot rough, not cruel, just firm. he forces your gaze up. searches your eyes like theyâll betray you. âdid you?â he asks again, quieter this time. lower.
âwould it matter?â you smirk, lip parting just slightly. âweâre not exclusive.â
his eyes flash. something behind them cracks. then he kisses you. he slams his mouth onto yours, bruising and hot and messy. you gasp, and he uses it to slide his tongue in, hand already under your shirt, fingers curled tight on your waist like he wants to crush the space between you.
you shove him back against the wall and he just laughs again, cocky and breathless and mad. âyouâre such a fucking brat,â he mutters, yanking your shorts down, not even bothering to fully undress you. âyou wanted this, huh? wanted me all pissed off so iâd come fuck the attitude out of you.â
you kiss him again just to shut him up. itâs frantic, frenzied. your back hits the wall, your shirtâs halfway off, and his handâs already between your thighs, pressing into your soaked panties with a groan. âfuck,â he whispers, cock straining through his jeans. âyouâre soaked. did he do that?â
âno.â you reach down, unbuttoning him with shaky fingers. âyou did.â he curses under his breath and pulls his cock free. before you can blink, he pushes your panties to the side and sinks in all at once.
you both moan like you havenât done this a hundred times. like you didnât swear this didnât mean anything. like he doesnât already know your body better than you do. he fucks you hard. not careful or not slow. just hips slamming into yours, hands gripping your thighs, lips dragging down your neck. ânext time,â he growls, âyou even think about going out with someone elseâiâll remind you who this pussy belongs to.â
you whimper. clutch at his shoulders. dig your nails in because you want to mark him, you want it to hurt. âyouâre such an asshole,â you gasp.
âyeah?â he grins against your throat. âbut youâre still letting me fuck you.â yeah, you canât argue with that. when you come, clenching around him, biting down on his shoulder to keep from screaming, he follows with a groan, spilling into you like he doesnât know how not to.
after, he doesnât let you go. he keeps holding you there, pinned to the wall, breathing hard, nose brushing yours. âyouâre mine,â he mutters, almost like he forgot to say it out loud before. âyou know that, right?â
you donât answer. you just kiss him againâŚbecause you donât know either, but you want it to be true.
CW: Alcohol consumption, public intoxication, suggestive sexual behavior in public, light dominance/submission dynamics, clingy Y/N.
Synopsis: A night in rome with a very drunk clingy Y/N.
You were wearing a white lace dress, with your hair tied loosely back, a few strands slipping free to frame your flushed face. The streets hummed around you, but you werenât really paying attention to anything except Harry, well, Harry and the icy drink in your hand.
The cobblestone streets of Rome glistened under soft amber lights. It had rained briefly earlier that evening, just enough to coat the city in a sheen that made every step feel cinematic.
You were tipsy. Gloriously, gigglingly tipsy.
Harry leaned back against the wall of the trattoria youâd all just left, the collar of his blue shirt slightly undone, the hem of his trousers brushing his ankles. He was sipping slowly, his other hand tucked into his pocket, eyes watching you with that amused, adoring little smile.
Alessandro Michele was standing nearby with an arm lazily draped around his partner. He was telling some story to the group gathered around, all talking over one another.
But you were entirely fixated on your boyfriend.
You took a sip of your cocktail, lips pursing. âWhy is this so good?â you said, stumbling a little as you reached Harry. You clung to his side, wrapping your free arm around his waist like you needed him to stay upright.
Harry chuckled, low and patient. âBecause itâs your fourth one, bunny.â
You smiled dreamily. âItâs not my fourth.â
âIt is.â He slid your glass gently from your hand. âAnd thatâs enough, lovie.â
You blinked up at him, swaying just slightly on your feet. âYouâre mean.â
âI know.â He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek. âBut youâll thank me in the morning.â
You wrapped your arms tighter around him, hands gliding over the silk of his shirt, and buried your face in his neck. âYou smell so good,â you whispered, then nuzzled in deeper and left a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath his jaw.
He didnât flinch. Didnât pull away or tell you to behave. Just let you nuzzle and nip at the soft skin beneath his ear, your lips brushing just beneath his jaw as if you were trying to memorize the shape of him with your mouth. You were delicate at first, barely-there kisses, your breath warm and sweet against his skin, but then your teeth grazed him, playful and a little greedy, and he made a low sound that barely passed as a laugh.
Still, he didnât stop you.
His arm wrapped more securely around your waist, hand warm and steady against the small of your back, his thumb drawing slow, grounding circles. He was still listening to Alessandro and laughing softly with the others, nodding along, but every now and then, his hand would slide just a little lower, soothing, steadying, as your lips trailed along his neck with lazy devotion.
You kept going, half-draped over him, mouthing at the skin above his collarbone, barely noticing how your lip gloss had smudged just a little. You pressed another kiss to the side of his neck, then did it again, just because you could.
Harry tilted his head to the side slightly, offering you more space, still not saying anything. He didnât need to. His body was so relaxed, like this was just second nature, letting his tipsy girl crawl all over him in the middle of a Roman alley while he chatted with old friends.
Every now and then, his fingers would tighten at your waist, squeezing gently when you got a bit too close to his collar or a little too sharp with your teeth. But he didnât move you away. He just kept talking.
At one point, Giovanni, Alessandroâs partner, caught Harryâs eye and raised a brow with a knowing smirk.
âSheâs had fun tonight,â Harry said smoothly, not missing a beat. He kissed the top of your head without even looking. âHavenât you, bun?â
You hummed in reply, completely blissed out against his neck, lips still grazing skin as if it was the only thing tethering you to the ground.
Then you said softly, right against his skin: âYou taste good too.â
That was when Harry finally blinked and let out a quiet laugh.
You kissed him again, then again, sloppier this time, hot lips dragging across the column of his throat. âCan we go back home?â you murmured.
âNot yet, bun.â
âWanna be alone with you.â
âI know you do.â His voice was still gentle, but there was a warning edge to it. Youâd pushed past that edge.
Your hand slid down, tracing the front of his shirt, nails dragging lightly, until you reached the waistband of his trousers. You giggled, brushing the heel of your palm over the slight bulge in his pants.
His eyes widened. âJesus,â he muttered, laughter bursting from him as he quickly grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand away. âYouâre gonna get us arrested.â
âBut itâs Rome,â you whispered with a giggle. âTheyâre romantic here.â
âYeah, not that romantic,â he said, still laughing.
You pouted, leaning up to kiss him again. This time it was full-on, your mouth open, messy, hungry.
Your lips found his like it was the only thing in the world you could focus on. You tilted your head and opened wider, tongue brushing his, fingers tangling into the collar of his shirt as you pressed up on your toes to reach him fully.
Harry let you kiss him. Let you take and take, groaning softly into your mouth as one of his hands came up to cradle the back of your head, steadying you. His other arm stayed looped around your waist, keeping you anchored, flush to him. His fingers curled at your lower back again, a slow, reassuring stroke up and down, up and down.
Around you, no one paid much attention. The group had splintered into smaller conversations, Alessandro now theatrically reenacting something with wide hand gestures, everyone too caught up in their own tipsy laughter and stories to care that you were practically devouring your boyfriend in the street.
You whimpered softly into his mouth, angling yourself closer, knee slipping between his, and Harry chuckled again, deep in his chest.
âYouâre a menace tonight,â he murmured against your lips.
But he still didnât stop you.
You were about to say something, something about how warm he was, or how you wanted to crawl into his shirt and live there, when a sudden arm slung casually around your shoulders from the side, pulling you back slightly with affectionate force.
âAlright, bambini,â Alessandro grinned, standing between you and Harry now like a human barrier, one arm still draped across your shoulders, the other flung around Harryâs. âSave some of that passion for behind closed doors, hmm?â
Harry threw his head back and laughed.
You blinked up at Alessandro, dazed and pouty, but didnât resist his grip. You stood there for a moment, swaying a little under the weight of his arm, then slipped out from under it with a tiny huff and wandered toward the table nearby, sinking into one of the wrought iron chairs with a sigh.
Your cheek smushed against your hand, elbow propped on the table. You kicked your feet slightly under the chair and started humming to yourself, some soft, dreamy tune you couldnât quite remember the name of. Probably something Harry had played for you once, or something Alessandro had blasted through his villa speakers.
Your dress caught the light every time you shifted, your flushed face dreamy and content as the night swirled on around you. People talked and sipped and smoked and laughed, and you just hummed and watched Harry from your little spot, like he was the center of your universe.
Because he was.
You kept humming, now swaying slightly in your seat, arms folded on the table in front of you. The streets had grown quieter now, just the low hum of traffic in the distance, a few passing voices, the clinking of ice in glasses.
You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the breeze slip past and cool your flushed skin. You imagined Harryâs hand instead, those warm fingers tracing down your back, over your thighs, up the inside of yourâ
âBun,â came his voice suddenly, close.
Your eyes fluttered open to find him crouching beside you, glass of water in one hand and that soft, bossy smile on his face.
âDrink this,â he said, nudging it toward your lips.
You wrinkled your nose. âI donât want water.â
âI know,â he said gently, tilting the glass anyway. âBe a good girl, yeah? Just a little.â
You let out the tiniest whine, dramatic and pouty, but opened your mouth. He helped you sip, watching you the whole time, free hand rubbing your thigh slowly under the table. You finished a little less than half before turning your head dramatically into his shoulder.
âThere,â you murmured. âIâm healthy.â
Harry laughed, soft and warm. âYouâre getting healthy. One more sip, bunny.â
âThis is so entertaining,â Alessandro said suddenly, perched across from you both with a smirk on his face, chin in hand, elbow propped on the table, as you glared at him.
Harry smiled down at you, ignoring them entirely, lifting the glass once more.
âYou gonna finish this for me?â he asked sweetly.
You stared at him. âIf i get a kissy after.â
He smirked. âDeal.â
You took another sip, then immediately threw yourself at him. His arms came around you instinctively, laughing into your shoulder as you tried to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his mouth.
âChrist,â he muttered, letting you do whatever you wanted, still smiling as he glanced back toward Alessandro. âSheâs relentless tonight.â
âLet her be,â Alessandro said.
âCâmon, time to go.â Harry said after a while.
You blinked. âAlready?â
âItâs nearly two,â he said gently, crouching slightly so you were eye level. âI thought you wanted to go home?â
You pouted again. âNo, I like it here.â
âI know, lovie,â he said, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, âWeâre gonna come again tomorrow, right now you need sleep.â
You giggled and let him pull you to your feet.
Your legs wobbled a bit, and Harry steadied you immediately with both hands around your waist, then leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose.
âI want pizza,â you said dreamily as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the group.
Alessandro gasped. âFinally, someone says what weâre all thinking!â
Within minutes, the group was making their way down the winding street toward a place Alessandro swore had the best late-night margherita in the entire city. You walked with Harry, arm wrapped tightly around his middle, your body practically glued to his side.
You kept kissing his shoulder as you walked. His arm never left your back.
âYou know how much I love you?â you asked, not quietly.
Harry glanced down at you with a soft laugh. âHow much, bun?â
You stopped suddenly in the middle of the street. âThis much,â you declared, stretching your arms wide, nearly twirling in your spot.
He caught you before you could wobble too far and kissed your forehead, tucking you safely back under his arm. âThatâs a lot.â
âYouâre my favorite person,â you whispered into his chest.
He squeezed you closer. âYouâre mine, too.â
Eventually, the group stumbled into the tiny pizza shop Alessandro had spoken of, and you curled up beside Harry in the booth, half-asleep on his shoulder by the time your slices arrived. He fed you bites between sips of water and whispered something against your hair that made you giggle again.
And when you finally left, the cobblestone streets still warm beneath your sandals, Harry wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, held your hand tightly, and guided you all the way back home.
Description: friends donât kiss like that⌠and they definitely donât spend the night tangled up in each other, learning what it sounds like when years of tension finally snap. But here you are. In his bed. Breathless. Wrecked. His hands shaking on your skin like youâre the only thing heâs ever wanted. And you both knowâthereâs no going back now.
author note: hopefully youâll love this one; I had a writerâs block trying to finish this one up đĽş
Main Masterlist
Marked by Midnightâs Masterlist
***
It's the same Friday night ritual you've fallen into for years nowâpredictable in a way that should feel boring by now, but somehow never does. You don't remember when exactly it became your thing, but you know it started sometime after his last relationship went up in flames. Somewhere between his dry, sarcastic textâ"bring snacks or don't bother showing up"âand the way he always leaves the door unlocked when he knows it's you coming over. You don't knock anymore. Haven't in ages. You just toe off your shoes by muscle memory, drop your bag on the little hook by the door he hung there for you a year ago, and slip into your usual spot on his couch like it's second nature. It is, really.
Tonight's no different. The air smells like leftover pizza and the two cheap beers you grabbed from his fridge on your way in. You're half-curled under one of his worn-out throw blankets, your legs stretched long across the couch, your bare feet pressing into his thigh like they always do. He doesn't even flinch when you do it anymore. Just rests his warm palm on your shin absentmindedly like it's the most natural thing in the world. It's reckless, really, how easy this all is. How dangerous it feels sometimes when he doesn't pull away.
The TV's playing something you've both seen a thousand timesâsomething neither of you are really paying attention to. The real entertainment, like always, is the stupid conversation unraveling between sips of cheap beer and leftover takeout. He makes a joke about your taste in men, you roll your eyes and throw one right back at him. The back-and-forth feels sharper tonight though, like you're both playing closer to some invisible line neither of you have dared to cross. Not really.
You don't know what makes you say it. Maybe it's the second beer loosening your tongue, or maybe it's the way his laugh curls in your stomach when you throw your head back against the cushion and groan dramatically. You mock the high-pitched whine one of his exes once made you promise not to bring up again. You pitch your voice higher on purpose, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead in the most ridiculous overacting you can manage.
"Oh, Harry... oh my God... you're soâso loudâ" you gasp, drawing the word out, clutching your chest like you're seconds away from fainting.
You expect him to laugh. That's how it always goes. You take the piss, he rolls his eyes, throws something back, and you both move on. But tonight... tonight he doesn't laugh.
Instead, he goes still. His palm on your shin tightens just a littleâbarely noticeable, really, if you weren't suddenly hyperaware of every inch of his skin touching yours.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and for the first time all night, you swear the air between you crackles like something you shouldn't touch.
"You really wanna keep pushing, sweetheart?"
The words come out low. Thicker. Not playful like they should be.
And your mouth goes dry.
Because that's not the kind of thing he says to you. Not like that.
You blink, heart stuttering, trying to laugh it off, but it comes out wrongâtoo breathless, too tight. "What? I'm kidding. Relax."
But he doesn't.
He leans back a little, his arm curling casually along the back of the sofa like he's suddenly aware of how close you are, how easy it would be to pull you closer. His jaw flexes as he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, like he's thinking too hard about something he shouldn't say.
And then he does.
"Maybe you should find out for yourself before you start laughing."
You freeze.
So does he.
The silence that falls between you isn't the usual kindâthe one you fill with easy shrugs or dumb jokes. This one feels loaded. Heavy. Like you've both been balancing on this stupid little edge for so long you didn't even realize how close you'd gotten until you both looked down.
He swallows hard, flicking his gaze to your mouth and back up again so fast you almost think you imagined it.
You could laugh. You should laugh. That's how you survive this. You let it roll off your back, you change the subject, you make another joke and pretend you didn't hear it like that.
But you did. God, you did.
And something in your stomach twists.
Your voice comes out quieter than you mean for it to. Barely above a whisper. "What if I did?"
Harry's breath catches. You feel it more than hear itâright there where his palm is still pressed to your leg, fingers curling in slow motion like he's grounding himself. His mouth opens and closes again, like he's trying to figure out if you're fucking with him, if this is just another game.
You're not sure what kind of answer you're expectingâsome dumb, cocky retort, maybe, or worse, a nervous laugh to remind you this is all one big misunderstanding. But when he finally speaks, it's nothing like that.
"Then you're gonna have to come over here and show me."
It knocks the air clean out of your lungs.
Because that's not a dare. Not a joke. Not something he can walk back if you say yes.
His hand slides a little higher on your shin, thumb dragging slow and steady like he's making sure you feel it. His gaze doesn't drop this time. Doesn't waver.
"C'mon, love. What's stoppin' you?"
You've never moved so slowly in your life. Shifting your weight, setting your half-finished beer down on the coffee table like you're moving underwater. Your heart's thundering so hard you're half-convinced he can hear it. You swing one leg over his lap, knees sinking into the sofa on either side of his hips until you're straddling him, palms braced on his chest to steady yourself.
And he's just... looking at you. Like you're the fucking answer to a question he didn't know he was allowed to ask.
"Hi," you whisper, suddenly breathless, nerves crashing over you in one dizzy wave.
The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to laugh, but he doesn't. His hands find your waist, curling slow and careful, as if he's terrified you'll shift back and realize this is a mistake.
"Hey."
It's the softest thing you've ever heard from him. No edge, no teasing, just quiet and wrecked and right there between you like you've already passed the point of no return.
His thumb drags along your waist, and you swear you feel his hands tremble just a little.
"You gonna kiss me or what?" he whispers, voice cracking on the last word like it's killing him to hold back.
There's a secondâjust oneâwhere the fear kicks in. Not the bad kind, not really. It's more the holy-shit-what-are-we-doing kind, the one that flickers right behind your ribs like a warning bell that's come a little too late. Because this is Harry. Your Harry. The one who steals your fries without asking and makes you playlists when you're having a bad day. The one who's held your hair back when you've had too much to drink, who's let you crash in his bed more times than you can count without ever once making it weird. He's always been safe. Uncomplicated. Yours in every way that didn't require you to risk everything by leaning in and closing the gap.
But now? Now his breath fans across your cheek, his hands tense on your waist like he's waiting for you to change your mind, and you know there's no coming back from this if you do it. No pressing rewind. No laugh-it-off in the morning.
And stillâyou lean in.
You don't even really kiss him at first. It's slower than that. Softer. Like you're both testing the weight of the moment, hovering close enough that you could pull back if you had to. You feel his breath catch when your nose brushes his, feel the tiniest tremor run through him when your fingers curl tighter in the worn fabric of his t-shirt. His lashes flutter against your cheekbone when you tilt your head, nudging your mouth toward his. And just when you start to wonder if he's going to make you do all of itâif he's going to sit there and let you chase the whole thing all the way downâhe meets you halfway.
It starts careful. Almost clumsy with how long you've both tiptoed around this. His lips part slow, brushing yours once, twice, barely there. You almost pull back to say something stupid like "was that okay?" but thenâGodâhe makes that sound.
Low in his throat, wrecked and quiet and so fucking real it short-circuits every rational thought you have left.
You melt.
The second time you kiss him, it isn't careful at all. You tilt your head, fingers sliding up into his curls like they've always wanted to, pulling him closer, chasing that sound like it's oxygen. He groans again, louder this time, and you feel him sink under you like his whole body's giving out.
"Fuck," he breathes, muffled between kisses, hands flexing tighter on your waist. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna ruin me."
The word baby snaps something loose in your chest, like you've just unlocked a part of him you never knew you were allowed to touch.
Your breath stumbles out in a shaky laugh, your lips brushing his as you gasp, "You really are loud."
He freezes for half a second like he's about to pull back, but you barely give him the chance. You roll your hips over his, testing the friction, chasing the heat, and it punches another groan right out of himâlouder, needier this time.
"Yeah?" he pants, teeth scraping your jaw as he pulls you closer, rougher, like he's trying to fuse you to him. "You like that? Huh? Wanna keep mocking me, baby? Gonna let you hear it all fuckin' night if you let me."
You suck in a sharp breath, fingers tightening in his hair.
And God, you should stop. You should slow down, give yourself half a second to think this through, to figure out what the hell this means. But his mouth finds that spot under your ear that makes your whole body jolt, and suddenly you don't care about what tomorrow's going to feel like.
You rock against him again, chasing the pressure, the heat curling low in your belly. He hisses, dragging his hands up under your t-shirt like he's starving to touch you.
"Tell me to stop," he whispers, voice cracking like he already knows you won't. "Tell me right fuckin' now if this isn't what you want."
But you don't. You can't. Not when you're already dizzy with it. Not when you've wanted this longer than you've let yourself admit.
So instead, you lean in again, brushing your mouth against his ear until you feel him shudder under you.
"I don't want you to stop."
His breath hitches, hands curling tighter like he's barely holding himself back.
"You sure?" he rasps, nose brushing along your jaw, voice so wrecked it makes your chest ache. "Tell me you mean it. Tell me this isn't just the fuckin' beer talking, baby, 'cause I swear to Godâ"
You pull back just enough to look at him. Really look at him.
He looks wrecked already. Like this is costing him. Like this has been sitting on the tip of his tongue for longer than you've even dared to hope.
And you swear something inside you snaps.
"It's not," you breathe, shaking your head as you cup his jaw in your hands. "Swear it's not."
He curses under his breath, dragging his hands down to your thighs like he's grounding himself, like he's trying to keep himself from breaking.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes screwed shut like it physically hurts to keep his hands from sliding under your shorts. "Need you to tell me what you want, baby. Please."
And it's there, on the tip of your tongue.
The thing you swore you'd never risk saying.
But it's too late now, isn't it? You've already crossed the line.
So you whisper it like a secret, like it's been sitting there in your chest for years.
"I want you."
It happens fast after that. Like the air finally snaps between you and there's no holding it back. One second you're still hovering, trembling with it, your hands on his jaw like you're terrified he's going to pull awayâand the next, you feel him exhale the most broken sound you've ever heard from him, his grip tightening on your thighs like he's lost the battle with himself.
"Come here," he groans, breath hitching, voice barely holding together, and before you can even blink, he's dragging you closerâsitting up straighter, chest pressed to yours, his mouth finding yours again like he's starving.
This time, it's different. Hotter. Desperate. There's no hesitation now, no teasing, no careful second-guessing. It's messy, frantic, like you've both finally stopped pretending this wasn't inevitable. His hands are everywhereâsliding up under your shirt, fingers dragging across your skin like he's trying to memorize every inch of you. You gasp into his mouth, shivering when his palms flatten against your back, pulling you flush to him, your thighs tightening around his waist instinctively like you can't stand even an inch of space between you.
You swear you feel him shudder under you, like you've knocked the breath clean out of him.
"Fuck, baby," he pants, dragging his mouth across your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck that make your whole body jolt. "Feel that? Feel what you fuckin' do to me?"
You do feel itâhard and hot between your legs, pressing up through your thin shortsâand the realization knocks every ounce of breath from your lungs. You roll your hips without thinking, grinding down with more pressure this time, and you feel him stiffen, hear the sharp curse tear from his throat.
His head falls back, curls brushing the back of the sofa, and you watch the muscles in his throat work as he swallows hard, jaw so tight you can see the effort it's taking him not to lose control right there.
"Jesus Christ, you're killin' me," he groans, one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. "Tell me what you want, baby. Say it. Please."
You don't even hesitate. You can't. You're already shaking with it. Already soaked in it. Your voice comes out as more of a gasp than a whisper, breathless and messy against his jaw.
"Want you to touch me. Want you so bad it hurts."
The groan he lets out sounds like it physically knocks the breath out of him.
Before you can process it, he's moving. One strong arm sweeps under your thighs, the other curls tight around your back, and you let out a squeak of surprise when he stands, lifting you off the couch like you weigh nothing.
"Harry!" you gasp, clinging to him, laughing breathlessly as he stumbles toward the hallway.
"Shut up," he breathes against your neck, mouth dragging hot along your skin, "Not lettin' you go. Not now. Not ever."
You swear you feel your heart split in two right there.
By the time your back hits his mattress, you're trembling with itâskin buzzing, breath catching, heart pounding so hard it almost hurts.
He doesn't move for a second, just hovers over you, curls falling into his eyes, his chest heaving like he's trying to memorize every inch of you before he ruins it.
"Tell me again," he rasps, voice cracking. "Please. Need to hear you say it's not just the beer talkin', baby."
You sit up on your elbows, heart swelling so painfully full it feels like it might burst, and reach for the hem of your shirt.
"It's not," you whisper as you pull it over your head and toss it somewhere over the side of the bed. You're trembling a little now, but you don't stop. You meet his eyesâwide, glassy, hungryâand you nod, slow and certain. "It's me. I swear."
His eyes drop to your bare skin, and he drags his hand through his curls like he can't fucking believe this is happening.
"Jesus," he breathes, crawling over you again on his forearms like he's scared to crush you. "You're perfect. So fuckin' perfect."
You barely recognize the sound you make when he kisses you againâsomewhere between a gasp and a whimper, like your body is short-circuiting under his hands. You've kissed him beforeâdrunken pecks on the cheek, playful lips pressed to his jaw when he made you laugh too hardâbut never like this. Never with the weight of every line you've tiptoed around collapsing all at once between your bodies.
His hands are greedy now, trembling just slightly as they trail along your sides, slipping under the curve of your ribs like he's afraid to rush, like he wants to memorize every inch of skin he's never dared to touch. He dips his head, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, sucking softly at the base of your neck, and you swear your back arches off the bed all on its own.
"So fuckin' soft," he murmurs under his breath, voice low and rough and right against your skin like it's a prayer you weren't meant to hear. His hands slide higher, fingertips brushing the underside of your bra, hesitating just barely like he's giving you that last out.
You nod before he even asks.
"Please," you whisper, breath catching, "I want you to touch me."
He groans like you've wrecked him completely, leaning up just enough to tug the fabric over your head and toss it aside with your shirt. The moment your chest is bare to him, he just... stops. Stares. Like you're the first thing in his life that's ever left him speechless.
His palms come up slowly, reverently, cupping you like he's terrified you'll vanish if he blinks too long. His thumbs brush over your nipples and your whole body jerks with the heat of it, breath spilling out in something dangerously close to a moan.
"Fuck me," he whispers, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, like he's trying to keep himself from coming undone too fast. "You're... fuck, you're unreal."
You can't stop yourselfâyou hook your legs tighter around his waist, grinding up into him again, desperate to feel all of him. His breath stutters, hips jerking like he can't help himself.
And then he's moving again, dragging his mouth down your bodyâslow, lingering kisses pressed to every inch of skin he can reach. Down your ribs, over your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts.
He looks up at you from there, lips pink and swollen, curls a mess, chest still heaving.
"Can I take these off, baby?" he asks, voice so thick and wrecked it makes your stomach clench. "Wanna see all of you. Need to."
You nod so fast it almost embarrasses you, lifting your hips for him without a second thought. He drags your shorts and underwear down slow, eyes never leaving yours as he bares you completely.
The air feels electric on your skin. Too much and not enough at the same time. You feel exposed, trembling, but the way he looks at youâlike you're the only thing in the world that mattersâmakes you feel like you could fall apart right there and he'd hold every single piece.
He sucks in a sharp breath, dragging his hand through his hair again like he doesn't know what to do with himself.
"Jesus, you're beautiful," he whispers, voice cracking, like it's physically painful to hold back. "Can't believe I get to touch you."
You reach for him again, curling your fingers into his shirt, tugging at the fabric until he gets the message. He peels it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him, and when his bare chest presses to yours, skin to skin, you swear you could die from how right it feels.
"Please, Harry," you breathe, burying your face in his neck, rocking your hips up again without thinking. "Need you so bad it hurts."
He shudders, dragging his mouth back to yours, kissing you slower this timeâdeeper, like he's trying to pour every unspoken word into you.
"Gonna take care of you, baby," he whispers between kisses. "Promise. Gonna make you feel so good."
And you believe him. God, you believe him with every shaking breath you take.
You barely register the way your breath shudders in your throat when his mouth finds yours again. It's slower now. Deeper. Less frantic, more certainâlike every kiss is meant to make you feel it. Like he knows you already do. His weight settles a little heavier on top of you, hips sinking between your thighs, skin hot and slick where his chest presses to yours.
You can feel himâall of himâhard and thick, pressing right where you need him, just separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. The pressure makes your breath catch, makes your hips tilt up instinctively like you're chasing something you're both too far gone to slow down for.
He groans into your mouth, one hand sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist like he needs to feel closer, needs to make sure you know how badly he wants this. How badly he wants you.
"Fuck," he breathes, voice cracking as he drops his forehead to yours, hips rocking forward onceâslow, steadyâgrinding into you just enough to make your whole body jolt. "Baby... Iâ"
He doesn't finish. Doesn't have to. You already feel him shaking above you, like he's holding himself together by the thinnest thread.
"Harry..." You can't even hear your own voice, breathless and wrecked, but you know he hears it by the way his grip tightens on your skin. "Need you. Please."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, wide green eyes flicking between yours like he's trying to memorize every single thing about you in this exact second.
"You sure?" he whispers, voice barely steady. "I don'tâfuckâI don't wanna do this if you're not sure, baby."
You almost sob. "I've never been more sure of anything."
His face crumples like you've broken him, lips crashing onto yours again with so much force it steals every bit of air from your lungs. You feel his hand slide between you, pressing low over your stomach, slipping down until his fingers brush over the slick heat of you.
You let out a noise that sounds nothing like youâhigh and desperate, something you'd be embarrassed about if you weren't already too far gone to care.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, voice shaking like he's seconds from losing control. "You're so wet, baby. All for me, yeah?"
You nod frantically, clinging to him, your nails digging into his back as you roll your hips into his touch.
"All for you," you whisper back, voice cracking, "Please, Harry, justâplease."
He shudders so hard you feel it in your bones, his breath spilling hot and shaky over your skin as his fingers slide through the mess between your legs, circling your clit so slow you could scream.
"Gonna take my time with you," he whispers, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers first. Wanna feel you fall apart for me."
And God, the way he says itâwrecked and hungry and like it's the only thing he's ever wantedâyou don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life.
You try to brace yourself. You know you should. But it's useless the second his fingers slip lower, dragging through your folds like he's already memorized every part of you. He's so gentle at first, so fucking careful, like he's afraid to hurt you or rush it. Like he's determined to make this the best thing you've ever felt.
Your body arches off the bed before you even realize you're moving, a broken moan catching in your throat when his fingers find that perfect spot again and again. It's slow, torturous, the way he circles your clitâlight at first, just a tease, until your hips are chasing his touch, until you're gasping his name like you've forgotten how to say anything else.
"That's it, baby," he murmurs, breath hot against your jaw as he keeps moving, building you higher with every slow stroke. "You're doin' so good for me. Sound so fuckin' pretty when you fall apart, you know that?"
You dig your nails into his shoulder, gripping him like he's the only thing keeping you from slipping under. You've never been this sensitive, never been this wound up, like every nerve in your body is buzzing under his touch.
You try to warn himâyou really do. But the words die in your throat when he adds just a little more pressure, a little more speed, his mouth pressing hot kisses down your neck while his fingers work you open.
"C'mon, baby," he breathes, "Wanna feel you let go for me. Been dreamin' about this for fuckin' years, swear to Godâ"
You cry out, hips stuttering, body shaking as the pressure coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, crashing over you so hard it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.
You feel yourself clench around his fingers, feel him groan right against your ear like he feels it too, like he's just as wrecked by it as you are.
You're still gasping, still trying to catch your breath, when he pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands. His lips are pink, swollen, his hair a complete mess. But it's his eyes that leave you breathless.
Wide. Shiny. Like you've just torn him to pieces and he doesn't know how to put himself back together.
"Baby," he whispers, voice breaking like it's too much, "Need to be inside you. Please. Please tell me you want that too."
You don't even hesitate. You reach for him, curling your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down until you feel him bare and hot and thick against your thigh.
You look up at him, heart in your throat, and whisper the only thing that's been sitting on your tongue since the moment this started: "I've always wanted you."
And you swear, in that split second before he sinks into you, he breaks all over again.
You feel him hesitate just for a breathâjust long enough to make sure you don't change your mind. His forehead presses to yours, his nose brushing yours softly, like he's checking again without needing to ask out loud.
You slide your hands up his back, nails scraping lightly across his skin, and whisper the only thing you know will tip him over the edge.
"Please, Harry... I need you inside me."
The groan that rips out of him sounds almost pained. His fingers curl tighter around your waist, pulling your body up to meet him, and when you feel the thick head of him nudging at your entrance, you nearly stop breathing altogether.
He moves slow. So slow it's almost unbearableâlike he's savoring every inch, dragging it out just to make you feel it. You gasp, clawing at his shoulders, your body stretching around him inch by inch until you're completely full, until there's no part of you that isn't pressed to him, surrounded by him.
"Fuckâ" his voice cracks, shaking like he's seconds from losing it. "So fuckin' tight... Jesus Christ, baby, you feel... you feel like heaven."
You're trembling beneath him, breath stuttering out in little gasps you can't control. You feel stretched, full, claimed in a way that makes your head spin. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, grounding yourself against the overwhelming ache and pressure that feels like it's going to swallow you whole.
"Move," you gasp, hips tilting up to meet his, "Harry, pleaseâ need you to move."*
He groans again, low and wrecked, and finallyâfinallyâhe starts to move.
Slow at first. Barely pulling back before pressing right back in, hips rocking steady, grinding deep like he's tasting you from the inside. You cry out, biting your lip to muffle the sound, but he shakes his head, catching your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.
"No," he pants, voice thick and ruined, "Let me hear you. Don't fuckin' hold back, baby. Want everyone to know how good I'm makin' you feel."
You let go of the breath you've been holding, head tipping back as a moan rips from your throat, loud and broken and real. His hips snap a little harder, a little faster, and the sound of itâskin on skin, your name falling from his lips like it's the only thing he knows how to sayâmakes you feel like you're coming undone all over again.
He presses his mouth to your ear, breath hot and shaking as he fucks into you harder, deeper, each stroke dragging a wrecked little whimper from your lips.
"Tell me this is mine now," he growls, voice pure filth in your ear. "Tell me no one else gets to touch you like this, baby. Ever again."
You can't think, can't breathe, can barely get the words out between gasps.
"It's yours," you choke out, clinging to him like your life depends on it. "Only you, Harry. Fuckâonly you."
You don't know how he manages to keep it together. You're falling apart with every slow, deep thrustâclutching at him like you'll float away if you don't anchor yourself to his body. He's everywhere. Filling you, surrounding you, breathing you in like you're the only thing keeping him alive.
His hands frame your face like he needs to feel all of you to believe this is real. His thumbs swipe at the damp skin under your eyes, like he's trying to catch the little gasps and wrecked sounds falling from your lips. His mouth finds your jaw, your throat, dragging open-mouthed kisses down your skin as he groans, low and breathless.
"You feel so fuckin' good," he pants, hips rocking harder now, the bed creaking with every deep push. "Could stay right here all fuckin' night, baby. Stuffed full of me... takin' every inch so good... fuckâ look at you."*
His voice hits something deep in youâsomething raw and helplessâand your back arches off the bed like your body's chasing every word.
"You're killin' me," you gasp, barely able to hold yourself together. "Harryâ pleaseâ* harder, Iâfuck, I needâ"*
You don't even finish. He growls, actually growls into your neck, like you've snapped whatever restraint he had left. He pulls back, grabs your hips, and slams back into you, so deep and rough you choke on a cry you can't hold in.
"Like that?" he rasps, voice shaking as his hips piston faster now, driving into you like he's making up for every second you both wasted pretending you didn't want this. "S'that what you fuckin' need, baby? You need me to ruin you properly, huh?"
You nod, tears pricking at the corner of your eyesânot from pain, not even from pleasureâbut from the way he's looking at you like you're his entire fucking world.
"Yes," you whimper, breath catching on a sob you didn't know was there. "Pleaseâ ruin meâ* all yoursâ* alwaysâ"
He groans again, shaking above you, forehead pressed to yours like he's trying to climb inside your skin. His breath fans hot across your mouth as he slows just a little, grinding deep again, hips rocking in filthy little circles that make your whole body lock up.
"That's it," he pants, "Let me feel you again, baby. Wanna feel you come all over my cock. Can you do that for me? Huh? Wanna hear you fall apart one more time."
You can barely nod, already so close you could taste it. You grab at his back, wrapping your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, faster, until you can't even think anymore.
"Harryâ Iâ* fuckâ* I'm gonnaâ"*
He doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. He keeps fucking you steady and deep, his hand sliding between your bodies, finding your clit again, rubbing fast messy circles that destroy you.
You come hard, stars bursting behind your eyes, your whole body locking up under him as you cry out his name loud enough to echo through the room.
You hear him groan so deep it's almost a snarl, feel him jerk, hips snapping faster now, losing his rhythm like he's chasing his own release.
"Whereâ fuckâ* where do you want me, baby? Tell meâ* fuckâ"
Your head spins. Your body's still shaking, still buzzing, but you manage to drag him down, mouth at his ear, whispering the filthiest thing you've ever said in your life.
"Want you inside me... fill me up, Harry... pleaseâ want all of you."
He loses it. Full-body shuddering, hands gripping your hips so tight you'll probably bruise, burying himself deep with a wrecked cry as he comes inside you, hips rocking through every last pulse of it until he finally collapses on top of you, shaking and breathless.
Neither of you moves for a long time.
His body is heavy on top of you, but you don't care. You wrap your arms around him tighter, as if letting go might shatter whatever spell has just woven itself between your ribs. His breath fans hot and uneven across your neck, every exhale trembling like he's still coming down from itâlike he doesn't quite know how to land.
You feel him shift slightly, just enough to brace his weight on his elbows again, careful not to crush you. His nose brushes yours as he pulls back to look at you, curls sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. You've never seen him like this before. Wrecked. Fragile. Wide-eyed and terrified in the best possible way.
He blinks, searching your face like he's waiting for you to wake up and realize this was a mistake.
"Are you okay?" he whispers, so quiet you almost don't hear it.
Your throat tightens. You reach up, cupping his jaw with both hands, pulling him closer until your lips brush softly over his.
"I've never been better," you breathe. "Promise."
You feel him sigh, like you've just cut every string holding him together. His forehead presses to yours again, eyes squeezing shut like he doesn't know how to say what he needs to say without falling apart.
"Iâ" His voice cracks. He pulls in a shaking breath. "I don't wanna ruin this. Don't wanna fuck this up."
Your heart breaks a little at how scared he sounds. Like you could somehow forget what just happened. Like you haven't already fallen so far there's no way back.
You trace your thumb along his jaw, tilting his face until he's looking at you again.
"You couldn't ruin this if you tried," you whisper. "I'm yours, Harry. I've been yours for so fucking long."
He lets out the softest soundâsomewhere between a breath and a laughâand leans in to kiss you again. This one's slower, softer. No heat, no urgency. Just yours. Just his.
You don't know how long you lie there tangled together, skin sticky, hearts pounding in sync. Long enough for the air to shift. Long enough for the weight of it all to settle over you both in the best kind of way.
When he finally rolls to his side, pulling you with him, tucking you into his chest like you belong there, you hear him murmur against your hair:
"You're not leavin' me after this, yeah?"
You smile, nose brushing his throat as you snuggle closer.
"Not a chance."
And you swear you feel him smile against your skin, arms tightening around you like he's never letting go.
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mutual friends who donât get along fics until they do? kind of enemies to lovers but not exclusive to that could just be not knowing eachother very well and not being able to catch a vibe and preferably ending in smut
this is all i could find, iâm sorry :(. if i find anything else iâm gonna add it
FRENEMIES TO LOVERS
Enigma by @heartateasee
Harry and Y/N are in the same ballet class, and they hate each other part 2 part 3 part 4 by @jawllines (this mini series isnât quite what you requested, but i think itâs kind of fitting)
Dentist the bad boi by @muffindaddystyles
Y/N and Harry hate each other, until they donât part 2 by @harrys-titties
Kiwi part 2 by @sweet-creature101
harry finds you annoying and snaps at you by @havethetimeofyourstyles