#green has no idea how to kiss him in a cool and collected way

[clanima]

❤️💚Last day of reguri week: Under the mistletoe!❤️💚

I had so much fun drawing this and I enjoyed every piece of art and fanfiction I read these last few days.

Such a happy community.

Happy holidays everybody🥰 May the spirit of Reguri bless y'all😍🙏🏻💕

#digital drawing #pokemon #pokémon fanart #namelessshipping #originalshipping #red #reguri #reguriweek #reguriweek2023 #green oak #mistletoe #red is ready to eat green's face #bless the mistletoe tradition #green has no idea how to kiss him in a cool and collected way #poor him #always embarassing himself #jk green I love you #favourite character

[dreamljve]

Am I being good, mommy?

dream x reader

summary: you're dream's girlfriend and you want him to call you mommy but he's a cocky asshole

warnings: NSFW, afab reader, switch but mainly sub!reader, switch but mainly dom!dream, mommy kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), "good boy", use of word slut, degradation, overstimulation if you squint, breeding kink, use of dream’s real name, thigh riding, just pure filth

wc: 2004

A/N: I have never written smut before be nice to me (but criticisms are welcome and appreciated:)) also I had fun writing this so if you like it and want to submit requests that'd be cool!! 

minors go away

“You have to be kidding me.” Clay shook his head in disbelief and ran his hands through his hair.

“Clay, I’m serious.” You rubbed the back of your neck so you’d have something to do with your hands– you had never felt so uncomfortable before.

Clay was the dominant one in your relationship. He is overprotective, territorial, and always knows what he wants. He calls the shots, every time. Because of this, it took you forever to ask him to call you mommy. You were submissive, and weren’t entirely sure if you really wanted to dom, but this was something that stayed in the back of your mind– and you’ll never know if you don’t try.

“So, let me get this straight,” Two of Clay’s fingers found their way to his temple, “you want me to call you mommy?” He took a step towards you.

You looked up at him, suddenly feeling smaller than you had ever felt. Clay normally towered over you, but the difference seemed to be bigger than ever. “Yeah,” you choke out, “I do.”

Clay smirked as he continued walking towards you. You hadn’t even realized you were backing away from him until your knees buckled once they hit your shared bed. You couldn’t read him, you had no idea what was going through his head. You sat on the bed and looked down, avoiding the gaze of your boyfriend.

Clay grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. This was not what you anticipated when you imagined your boyfriend calling you mommy. The green in his eyes was practically nonexistent as his pupils grew to an impossible size. He let go of your face,

“Well, mommy,” his cockiness never left his voice, “boss me around then. Do you want me to be your good boy?” He fell down to his knees and grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. “You want me to make you feel good?”

You felt a pool form in between your legs. You sat here with your eyes wide, unsure of how to even respond. You opened your mouth to speak but only a whimper came out.

Clay laughed at you, “Aw, cat got your tongue?” He hooked his two index fingers around your underwear, slowly pulling them down as he kissed up your thighs, never looking away from you. “You gotta talk to me mommy, wanna be good for you.”

“Clay, please I–” you looked down at him taking off your underwear at an agonizing rate, they hadn’t even passed your knees yet.

“I don’t think a mommy is supposed to beg.” His movements halted and the right side corner of his mouth raised.

How is it you’re supposed to be the dominant one but he still has complete control over you? You still couldn’t say anything; you were almost certain he could hear your heart beating. You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself. You tried to fake confidence, “You’re doing an awful lot of talking, you should really put that mouth to good use.”

His eyes widened so slightly you weren’t sure that they actually did. He pulled your underwear off the rest of the way and pulled your shirt (which was actually his shirt) up to reveal more of your stomach. He continued kissing up your thighs, his left hand gripped your hip so firmly you were sure you’d have bruises there in the morning. His mouth finally reached the spot where you needed him most. It was like he was waiting for a cue. You analyzed the situation in your head for a second and realized he was getting ready to make a snarky remark, so you grabbed his hair and forced him to make contact. He moaned into your cunt, immediately putting his tongue to work. You felt his tongue dip into you, covering itself in your slick. He then licks up your slit, and takes a second to suck on your sensitive clit. You didn’t even realize your eyes were closed until you looked down to see green eyes staring back at you, wide like puppy eyes. He brought one of his fingers up to your heat, circling your desperate hole. You could feel a smirk begin to form on his face. He pulled his face away from you.

“Am I being good, mommy?” His lips were red and his hair was disheveled from the grip you had him in. He had two fingers in you, making a steady “come hither” motion. His fingers continuously grazed your gspot. Every time you opened your mouth to respond, he would press against your gspot the tiniest bit harder. “Sorry mommy, I didn’t get that. What were you trying to say?” He latched his mouth back onto you, licking and sucking like his life depends on it. One of his hands reached up your shirt, lightly pinching your right nipple. He pinched and twisted it, just the way you like. You can feel the knot in your stomach forming, begging to be released. You knew if you came on Clay’s mouth he would win. It took all of your strength but you managed to pull your body away from him. The harsh release on your nipple stung and the loss of contact immediately stole your orgasm away, but you knew you hadn’t given him the upper hand back.

“Take your clothes off,” You looked at Clay and demanded. He immediately ripped his shirt off and you did the same. You laid back and rested on your forearms as your boyfriend worked at his belt. Just as he was about to take his underwear off you interfered, “leave them.”

Clay retracted his hands from the waistband of his boxers and put them up in defeat. He looked down at you as you opened your mouth to speak, “Come here, baby.”

He climbed on top of you, his left hand held his weight towards the left of your head, his right began working at your nipples again. He took his hand away for a second to grab your face and force you to look at him, he kissed you aggressively. Your kiss was sloppy and desperate. He bit your bottom lip as he pulled away and began kissing down to your neck. He repositioned himself so his right knee was between your legs, begging to make contact with your wetness.

“Why don’t you use my thigh to get off, mommy?” He muttered against your neck, “Use me.” You moaned out loud, the result of a mixture of his words and the feeling of him leaving hickeys scattered across your neck. “Gonna make sure everyone knows you’re my mommy.”

You brought your hips down slightly to connect with his thigh and you began grinding on it. His boxers provided the perfect friction, and it only made you wetter when you realized how much of your slick now seeped into the fabric. He began kissing down to your chest and latched onto your left nipple as his hand worked the other. You let out a guttural moan, overwhelmed with pleasure. You looked down at him when you felt an extra sharp pinch, only to be met with the view of your nipple between his teeth. You could feel his tongue swipe across the sensitive nub every so often.

“Clay, I’m close,” Your hips began to involuntarily speed up as your moaning became louder and more frequent– you were positive his roommates could hear you.

“Yeah? You wanna cum on my thigh, baby?” He released your nipple to bring his face to level with yours, looking directly into your eyes. “Cum, show me I’ve been a good boy for you.”

Your release was instantaneous, “Fuck, Clay–” you muttered between gasps, “Fuck.”

Clay guided your hips as you came down from your high, gripping them tightly. Your chest was heaving as you began to process what just happened. You half anticipated on being done; Clay had other plans.

Clay stood up and pulled down his boxers to reveal his throbbing dick. You were so caught up with how you felt you completely neglected your boyfriend. You turned your body around and got on your hands and knees in front of him. You reach for him to put him in your mouth and Clay laughs, “So desperate for my cock,” He intertwined his fingers in your hair, lightly grabbing it, “go on then if you want to be a slut, mommy.” He didn’t give you time to react before he shoved himself in your mouth, “Relax mommy, it’s me.” You take a deep breath through your nose and try to relax your throat. “Atta girl.” Your nose touched Clay’s stomach as you took him in.

He kept hold of your hair and started rocking his hips back and forth, throwing his head back and groaning. “Fuck, you take me so well.” You swirled your tongue around the tip of his dick and continued sucking, all of your energy going to making him feel good.

“Where can I cum, mommy?” Clay pulled back on your hair, forcing your mouth off of his cock. “Do you want me to cum down your throat?” He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. His face was red and sweaty. “Or I could cum on your tits?” The hand that grabbed your chin reached down to roughly tug on your nipple. He then shoved you so your back laid flat against the bed. He, again, grabbed your hips and pulled you towards the edge of the bed. He grabbed his dick and slapped it against your sex, “Or I could really make you a mommy,” He took the tip of his dick and slipped it into you, but left it at only the tip, “I could cum in your cunt and stay there, you’d have no choice but to take my cum.” You involuntarily squeezed his tip at the words. He chuckled at you, “Aw, is that what you want? You want me to make you a mommy?”

“Please” is the only word you could manage to get out, but it’s the only word he needed to hear. He shoved the entirety of his length inside you, bottoming out. “Fuck, baby.”

You were overwhelmed with the feeling of him, you looked up at him and saw a God. His head was thrown back and his mouth was hanging open, desperate for air. His fingers dug into your hips, completely immobilizing you. The chain he wore around his neck and the hair surrounding his hairline were glistening with his sweat. He was ethereal. He took one of his hands and lightly pressed down on your stomach, he wanted to feel himself in you as he thrusted at an inhuman pace. The feeling of him pressing against you was enough to push you over the edge, you didn’t even get the chance to tell him you were close. Your back arched and you moaned loudly, the rush of euphoria completely dominating your body.

Clay laughed at you, “Did you just cum?” You couldn’t have answered him even if you wanted to. “Such a slutty mommy,” He grabbed your right nipple and tugged, “Couldn’t even tell me you were going to cum. Is that how good I make you feel?” His thrusts began to stutter, letting you know he was close. “I’m gonna fucking cum. Gonna fill you up and make you mine.”

Clay released into you, you felt his warm cum invade your cunt, you almost felt like you finish again from that alone. He slowed his movements until he eventually stopped, taking a second before pulling out of you. He leaned over to kiss you. “I love you.” He said in between kisses.

“I love you too,” You smiled against one of your kisses. He pulled away and looked into your eyes, you took a second to smile at each other.

“That was so good I almost called you dream.”

#dream smut #dreamwastaken smut #mcyt smut #sapnap smut #georgenotfound smut #gnf smut #dream x reader #dream x reader smut

[violettduchess]

Happy 1k! 🥳 Could I request nr 9 for Clavis? (Or Napoleon)💖

A/N: It IS nearly his birthday so why not fulfil a Clavis request? Here you go @my-day6 💜 I hope you enjoy it!

Clavis x female reader

First Kiss Prompt: Heat of the Moment

WC: 1551

“Get me out of here!”

Your voice cracks at the strain of maintaining that volume. The dark, damp earth swallows the sound of your foot as you stomp it in frustration. Soon all you’re left with is a mighty glare which you lob at the pit’s edge. Above you is a perfect circle of sky, blue and bright, innocently shining, unaware of the fate that has befallen you.

You press your palms against the cool walls of the pit. They are too smooth, too well-constructed. You would never be able to grasp anything and climb your way out. Not a handhold or foothold in sight. Digging your fingers into the compact earth proves to be an unpleasant, crumbling mess of an idea which you give up immediately.

“Damn it, Clavis,” you mutter under your breath, a hand pressed against your side. The fall wasn’t too far, but it still knocked the wind out of you, surprise lending it a helping hand when it robbed you of breath. “Why?”

Of course there is no answer. Just a few fluffy white clouds that drift into view, stretching themselves lazily across the expanse of blue. With a huff, you lower yourself to the ground, crossing your arms. Your pink blouse is already streaked with earth and the fall ripped the side of your gray skirt wide open, up to the thigh. You yank the material closed as best you can, closing your eyes. Fine. You’ll wait. You’re already stuck at the bottom of one of his stupid hidden pit traps. It can’t get any worse.

The first raindrops are like small, cold kisses, harbingers of a very muddy and possibly dangerous future if you don’t get out of this pit now. You scrabble to your feet, the ground already wet enough to suck at your boots.

“HELP!”

The circle above your head is now gray and foreboding, releasing more and more gleeful raindrops who are happy to be free of their cloudy prison. They freefall towards the royal garden, bringing more and more of their friends along for the ride. Pushing wet strands of hair from your face, you are forced to shut your eyes against the onslaught of steadily falling rain and open your mouth to scream. You’re not sure if it’s a scream for help or frustration or fury but just when you’re about to let go, a voice rings out against the sound of the downpour: “Oh dear, how unfortunate.” A head of twilight hair, dark with rain, and two twinkling golden eyes peer over the pit’s edge.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE CLAVIS LELOUCH!”

He leans down, extending a hand which you grab hold of. With surprising strength, he pulls you easily from the pit and onto the soft, cold green grass of the western corner of the royal gardens. You spring to your feet, full of righteous fire, hands curled into fists as you take a step towards him. The Prince does not move. Instead he regards you, head tilted to one side, a hand raised in a gesture of peace.

“I do apologize, my dear. This trap was intended for a brother who was supposed to be collecting edible blossoms for tomorrow’s tea.”

You shake your head and then grab his hand faster than he can pull away. Fueled by anger, by the cold, damp feel of your clothing as it sticks to you, by the dull ache in your side and the feel of your broken skirt around your legs, you yank him towards the gazebo where you are sheltered from the rain and where he can’t slip away from you.

Clavis shakes his head, water droplets like tiny diamond beads in every direction. He pushes his hair back with one hand, his lips still lifted in a grin.

“Do you really want time alone with me—” His quippy remark is cut short by you clamping a hand over his mouth, eyes bright with anger.

“I was STUCK in a PIT for HOURS!”

You’re close enough to him for him to hear you loudly over the now pouring rain, to notice the rain drops sliding from his wet hair down the planes of his handsome face. Something glitters in those aurelian eyes as they regard you over your merciless hand. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, keeping your hand firmly in place.

“I could have gotten hurt in the fall! I could have drowned in there had you not come along! These pits are a HAZARD!”

How dare he refuse to look away in shame. How dare he keep his gaze on yours, his eyes holding you just as captive as that pit did. What is he thinking?

 ~ Your hand is warm against his mouth, your skin softer than silk.

How dare you smell so good, soaked in rainwater, streaked with dirt. How dare you look so beautiful, tendrils of hair framing your face like a work of art. Your clothes revealing so much and so little. Your skirt parted like the Red Sea, revealing a shapely path to what must be the Holy Land. How dare he want you? You, who is forbidden? You, bright flame that deserves so much more than him…worthless, weak little him.

And yet he can’t help what he feels. 

The thunder of his heart echoes through his veins, the feel of your fingers, the palm of your hand bewitching, conjuring a storm inside him. He is lost in the brilliance of your eyes, a universe he could spend eons exploring. Lost and never wanting a way out, ever again.

But he can’t do this. 

He can’t. 

He must keep this secret locked down in the deepest well of his heart, where the shadows lurk and darkness is a tyrant, towering over a small boy who only wants to be enough for someone. ~

He jerks his head away from your hand, blinking, his muddy boot scuffing the wooden floor of the gazebo as he steps back, away from you. The light in his eyes has dimmed.

“Ah my dear, it was only a joke. All in good fun.”

Something inside you shifts as you feel him pulling away. No. You want to see the fire in his eyes again, that glowing gold in all its intensity. 

You step towards him.

“I see you were offended by my silly trap. I’ll be more mindful of where I place them.”

No, this isn’t what you want. You don’t want him rambling on about his pranks, gaze not on you but the falling rain, his body shivering with cold, his spirit slowly folding inward, closing like a flower bud in reverse. 

No.

You take another step towards him until he bumps up against the curved railing, his hands reaching back to grip the wet, white wood.

“I do apologize for upsetting you, dearie. I— W-What are you...?”

Your body is crackling with frustration. He needs to STOP TALKING about the damn trap. You’re still angry at him for digging it but you’re also angry at the way he is retreating further and further behind that façade of his, that wall of quips and polite distance and controlled flame. You’re practically trembling with the desire to.....

You grab him, fistfuls of his wet coat, and pull him to you, capturing his mouth with yours. He gasps audibly, body going rigid with shock. You will not relent. You want that wall between you gone. So you tear it down with your lips, pressing kiss after kiss against his mouth. You tear it down with your left hand, still curled into the heavy material of his lavender jacket like an iron fist. You tear it down with your right hand, the one that has traveled up to his neck and is holding him there, warm palm against slick, cold skin. You tear it down with your leg, exposed and pressed tightly against his.

Kiss by kiss, touch by touch, you besiege him, vanquishing the cold with the heat of your body, crumbling his hesitation with the strength of your will. What man stands a chance against a perfect storm like this?

You feel when you have triumphed. He snaps as if struck by lightning and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against the long, lean lines of his body, tipping you back so you’re at a better angle for him to taste. You wrap one arm around his neck, holding on as he comes to life, his mouth moving over yours, deepening the kisses, sending your senses reeling. One hand supports your lower back, the other drops to the skin of your thigh and tiny tornados of electricity dance across your skin.

Was this what was hiding behind those quick smiles? Those flashing golden eyes?

You kiss him as the world around you rages, wind and water roaring through the royal gardens, But desire, which has been biding its time, smoldering patiently, now breathes fire into your lungs, blazes white-hot through your veins.

As you both sink to your knees, still wrapped in each other’s arms, as he tears his mouth from yours to hungrily ravish the soft skin of your neck, you don’t wonder what will happen when the storm fades.

Because you know that this? 

This is just the beginning.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis #ikemen clavis #clavis x reader #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #1k first kiss celebration #kiss fic #violettwrites

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Four

Life after Cyprus really isn’t all that interesting. In fact, I spend most of my time thinking about Cyprus, remembering Cyprus, reliving moments from Cyprus and pretending I’m still there, especially on those drizzly spring days when I look out the little Mezzotint studio window over the slick grey Dublin streets. I wonder just how much more interesting would my life be if I was in Cyprus right now? 

“Oi,” Simon snaps his fingers in front of my face, “Earth to Evie, you’ve been daydreaming all morning. Don’t you have… something to do?” He seems unsure about what exactly it is that I’ve been working on, which is understandable. Sometimes it’s cards, sometimes it’s windows, murals, signs, really, it could be anything. It just happens to be a poster for an art exhibition this time. Dull. 

“I’m working as hard as I can,” I tell him, which is true, because the most work I can manage is none. I wonder what Jude is doing. When we texted forty minutes ago he was in his studio working on his project, which is a collection of masks inspired by his travels in Asia, and before that he got a coffee in a little cafe near his university. I’m riveted by the idea of what he might be doing now. I text him again. 

Not you again…

He texts back, and I smile, no, beam to myself. 

Joking, I’m eating a pretzel. 

Oh, cool. 

I’m thrilled to know about the pretzel, and even more thrilled to receive a photo of said pretzel seconds later. It’s a salt and pepper one half wrapped in a serviette on his lap, and he’s wearing blue jeans and those green and white runners I’ve always liked. 

Miss you

I text him. 

Miss you too, Evie. Loads. Can’t wait to call you later.

I respond with a barrage of emojis, heart eyed, sparkling hearts, kisses, winky faces, flowers, moons and suns and stars. I should be completely embarrassed of myself , but I mean it all in a partially ironic way. Sort of, and really, I don’t care so much about the horrifying ordeal of sincerity anymore. It feels good to be mushy and emotional, earnest and obsessed with this gorgeous person who puts up with me, and it’s not like anybody is going to read our texts…

“You done talking to your boyfriend?” Simon is right behind me now, and I can tell that he’s trying to sound as annoyed as he can but he’s not really managing it. He’s smirking. Smirking because he saw my stupid emojis, and now I am humiliated. 

I stuff my phone back into my pocket, “I’m sorry, I’m so distracted. I’ll get back to work now, I know with this deadline and all…”

“End of day, Evie, I mean it. The client wants that poster by Wednesday, and if you have me panicking at the last minute trying to get it to the printers on time I’m not going to be happy about it.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll stay late if I have to.”

Gabriel makes a huffing sound when Simon goes back to his seat, “He’s no fun, girl. Text your sexy boyfriend all you like.”

“Can hear you from over here,” Simon comments. 

“He thinks he’s so scary and serious,” Izzy chimes in at volume, “But he’s absolutely not. Don’t let him intimidate you into staying late.”

“If the three of you don’t shut up I’m going to implement a no phones and no speaking rule, and it’ll be all Evie’s fault.”

I catch Izzy’s eyes and she rolls them, but indeed, we say nothing else, and for the rest of the day I do my level best to ignore my buzzing phone, and work on the boring, unsexy poster until it’s time to go home. 

“Do you think I’ll need a jacket at all when I’m in Sydney?” Claire takes an army green coat with a fur collar from the discount rail at a clothing shop and holds it up to herself in the mirror. 

“How cold does it get there in the winter?”

“I’ve no clue,” she sighs, “I’m unprepared, I don’t even actually know what goes on in Australia. Do they like Irish people?”

“Probably.”

“What do you think of this coat?”

“Everyone has that same coat, Claire, it’s too trendy, and I bet they have, like, other kinds of coats in Australia. Maybe you should just wait and see when you go.”

She strokes the faux fur collar lovingly, “It’s fluffy…”

“Look, you’re going in the early autumn, which for them is…” I tilt my head and imagine I’m upside down, “…early spring, so you’ll be going into the summer, and you definitely won’t need a coat, in fact, doesn’t it get so hot there that it bursts into actual flames every few years?”

“A coat is like a safety item though, I can’t imagine being in a place where I won’t need one. Is this the end of cosy winters for me? It feels like I didn’t appreciate the one that just passed, and actually, I complained about how cold and rainy it was the whole time, and I didn’t think about the fact that it might be my last real, cold winter for years and years and…” She’s clinging very tightly to the sleeve of this coat, chest heaving, tears springing to her big, blue eyes, and I immediately reach for her as though I can somehow prevent the imminent breakdown. 

“Claire,” I say in my best soothing voice, “You’ll have cold winters. You’ll come home for Christmas when you can, right?” 

She relaxes a millimetre, “Yes, yeah I will, you’re right, my parents would be devastated if I didn’t, it just wouldn’t be right, and God forbid Shane Healy isn’t home with Eamonn and Caroline on Christmas Day, God, no they wouldn’t hear of it…”

“Right, and I know what this coat symbolises,” I try to gently pry it from her clutches, “But you’ll take up too much space in your suitcase if you pack something like this, and look,” I put it gingerly back onto the rail, “You can always get your mam to send a package over at some point, you know, if you find that the winters are actually cold and you need something heavier, you have loads and loads of nice coats, don’t you?”

She nods. She’s got that thousand yard stare in her eyes. 

“Try to think of this as an exciting adventure.”

“I do think about it like that, I just… I’m an Irish girl, Evie,” She says with conviction as though she absolutely needs me to understand it, “I always, always thought that I’d just live here forever and I’d be glad about it, I had no interest in living abroad, I was just never bothered with any of that, J1 visas and all of that craic, I just can’t believe that I said yes to Australia,” She grabs my arm tightly. “You can’t go further than that without coming back around again.”

“You’ll like it, and if you don’t you can come home.” The truth is that I don’t want her to go at all, I don’t want Shane to go at all, actually, and I’m ashamed of the fact which is why I won’t say it. Having to be the one that holds it together during this conversation is hard for me when all I want to do is cling to her and cry and beg her not to leave me. Doesn’t she know that I have trauma about that kind of thing? Why would she do this to me? “I’m sure you’ll like it there, it’ll be amazing,” I reassure her, “think about Bondi Beach and stuff, and, I don’t know, whatever else they have there. Kangaroos.”

“I don’t care about the kangaroos really,” She frowns, “That’d be something Shane would like, probably.”

“I was kind of joking about the kangaroos.”

“Oh right, well, yeah, so you think I should think more about summer wear?” She pivots to the new season rail, “More bikinis, I suppose, I’ll be having two summers in a row, that’s exciting.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say, “Who wouldn’t want nine straight months of summer?” And I help her to rummage through the rails. 

When we come home from town later that evening she’s in a much brighter mood. She’s in the mood for a full on girls night, and is going on and on about getting dressed up and doing each others hair (Which translates to her doing my hair, because I’m relatively clueless about it, while not allowing me to lay a hand on hers, understandably) and then finding a bar that serves fancy cocktails and staying out until town shuts down. 

I don’t tell her that I was excited to call Jude, actually, because that’s what I do every night now that he’s away, and I know that he’s in an especially amorous mood because for the whole walk home with Claire he’s texting me the kinds of things that make me have to angle my screen away from her.

I’ve discovered that I like this kind of thing, even if my Catholic Shame is scratching at the door when I get up to the things I get up to when Jude is on the phone. He mostly talks about what he wishes we could do with parts of his body and parts of my body, and I don’t really know how to reply or to say any acceptably sexy things back to him, but I’m more than happy to lie there and listen with shocked delight as he speaks absolute filth over the line to me. Tonight is not shaping up to be one of those nights, though, so I regretfully text him while Claire chatters about this bar and that bar and who does what drinks and for what prices. 

Sorry, I think I’m having a girls night out.

Aw, damn.

I think this is when you’re supposed to tell me that you’re happy for me and that I should absolutely spend as much time as possible with my best friend before she moves 15’000kms away from me. 

You should do that, that’s what I meant. Going out with Claire sounds a lot better than listening to me. 

Hmm… I’m not so sure. 

Have fun, Evie. I’ll call you tomorrow. 

I’ll probably drunk text you in the meantime. 

Please! I love it when you do that. 

Claire and I spend two hours getting ready once we’re home, and I love every minute of it, because she has this incredible way of making me look like the best, hottest, most spectacular version of myself. Sometimes when she does my makeup I think back in horror to what I used to let Kelly do to my face. She was dangerous with an eyeshadow brush, and as Claire carefully applies layers of exquisitely blended shimmery gold to my lids I suppress a shudder at the thoughts of what I looked like on my dinner date with Liam all those years ago. I recently uncovered an old photo from a digital camera SD card of myself, awkwardly standing by the flimsy door of Kelly’s mobile home bedroom with eyes rimmed in black kohl liner and a circle of orange foundation around the collar of my top. I don’t know how I wasn’t mocked relentlessly.

“I didn’t notice those things,” Jude said to me when I sent the photo to him, “Maybe it was just too dark out that night, I don’t know, but I remember thinking you were really pretty when we were on the quay.”

“Yeah right, I was a ghoul,” I told him. 

“A pretty cute ghoul, and by the way, didn’t you see my haircut? I definitely looked worse than you.”

Of course he didn’t, he always looked cute, but I never bother to tell him things like this, because he always denies them for the sake of being humble, or at least the pretence of being humble. I’m never quite sure which.  

Before I go out I make sure to send a photo of myself to him so that he can remember that I can look good if I try, with help from Claire and about sixty euros worth of beauty products slapped onto my face, just in case I’m stricken down by a bus tonight and that awful teenage picture is the last image he has of me.

Bring a stick with you so you can beat the guys away from you

He says, which is total projection. It’s him that probably gets swarmed by the opposite sex in bars so he probably thinks that’s what happens to everyone. But not me, never me, except for the odd time, usually in dark corners of bars when I’m a little bit too drunk, and usually by the calibre of men that Claire would deem absolutely unacceptable to make eye contact with. 

“Come on, Evie,” she’s saying now, and I realise that I’ve been staring at my reflection in the black window while she’s been zipping herself into her lightweight jacket. “Jaz and Serena are already there.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: sex

[valentinesparda]

euphemia and larsa taking their studies out to the courtyard terrace, and they get distracted with talking about the bugs that keep flying around - that one is a carpenter bee, and look! a jewel beetle! - and eventually larsa, who IS just a little kid, starts to get sleepy and dozes off. and no one wakes effie up when they doze off, so they smile and let him take a little nap and while they are waiting around they're just checking up on all the flowers and in walks gabranth, just as they've plucked a flower for themself (it's selfish to want to keep one, but they do look beautiful when they dry out as well) and they go oh! judge magister, i wasn't expecting you!

gabranth asks why the young lord is snoozing in the sun like a cat and effie goes "well, he is still a child, i took plenty of naps in the gardens in my days". but gabranth doesn't get it. so he follows effie around while they talk about the flowers that the gardeners take care of, but he's really just there to awkwardly hover around until they stop talking because while he was sent to check up on larsa by the emperor, he also can't help but love the company of the young lord's tutor. and he's already spent far too much time here with them so he might as well spend more. he likes the sound of their voice as they ramble

but effie is nervous, oh so nervous, because he is following them around like he is expecting something and they cannot get the dreams they've had out of their head where he takes them gently in his arms and kisses them, and now they're sure he can see the embarrassment plain on their face. so they adjust their glasses and find a seat on one of the many marble benches and set their cane to the side, patting the stone next to them. and gabranth pulls off his helmet and sets down on the edge of the bench - so he can sit comfortably in his armor - next to them, with his helm in his lap

and effie gives him the flower they've picked, heart hammering in their chest like they've never done this before (they have, years ago, but it was someone else giving them a flower, it was the same garden). they watch the bud shake in their hand, gabranth tilts his head curiously, but he takes it from them with a gentle touch, careful not to squash the stem in his armored fingers. he isn't sure why they've done this, but the gesture is sweet, and he will take any scrap of kindness he can get, ESPECIALLY from this beautiful person that he has been dancing around for a few years now, not that he deserves the attention

but it has been a while where they have both let it known to the other that they are interested, and there's a tension between the two that you could probably see from the other side of the archades empire. the sun is getting lower in the sky and it's cooling down quite a bit, the garden is awash with orange light, larsa is still asleep with his arms propping his head up and he looks so serene, and a part of euphemia feels that it isn't fair that he should be burdened with the task of taking care of an entire empire, but they know that is just how the world works

so they sit together in silence for a few minutes, effie letting a butterfly land on their outstretched hand before it flutters over to see the flower that gabranth still holds in his fingers, and he is careful not to move so he doesn't disturb it. which is poetic, in nature, because he usually holds a harsh hand that rarely hesitates in hurting things, and instead he lets it glide away when it realizes there isn't anything left to collect in way of nectar

effie watches him as his head tilts in following the butterfly retreat away from him, his eyes so green and his lashes that make him look so pretty that it hurts them flutter when he feels the sun shine too brightly onto him

and perhaps it wasn't the best idea to lean in and place a kiss to his lips when he turned back to them, their hand on the armor of his thigh propping them up - one far-too-eager press of the lips that surprises gabranth out of his mind overthinking being there in the first place, and far-too-stunned on his end to reciprocate immediately. perhaps it wasn't the best idea for him, as effie pulled away from him with their eyes still closed, that he drops the flower from his hand as he decides to grab them by the shoulder and pull them close again

elsewhere in the palace, vayne turns away from a window

#val.txt #si: euphemia #otp: to be alone #long post #drabble tag #my writing

[softforloki]

Ahshd what about. loki x new, youngest avenger(~23ish?) whose day job is being a fashion designer but has chlorokinesis like isabela from encanto agsggds,, i hope this isnt too hard to work with or something,, have a good day and may both sides of your pillows and sheets be cold

Dude, Isabela Madrigal has me in a choke hold. I’m pretty sure I’d do anything for her.

So a fun fact about me is that when I write the Reader in formal wear, they’re always wearing a suit because suits are gender neutral. You and Loki get to be suit buddies.

Summery: The pressure is on when Loki asks you to make him something to wear for an upcoming party. Naturally, it has to be perfect.

Warnings: None, really!

Word Count: 1,627

Masterlist

Tailored to Perfection

“You’re sure you want me to do this? There are plenty of other with more experience.”

“I’m quite sure they’d all run in the opposite direction if I dared to approach them.” Loki scoffed with an eye roll. “Besides, I’ve seen your work. I know you’ll come up with something perfect.”

“I don’t think you realize how much pressure you’re putting on me.” You smiled, not taking your eyes off your sketch pad. 

“I’ve watched you take down heavily armed men in seconds.” Loki deadpanned, his eyebrows raised to his hair line. “I once witnessed you throwing a man against a wall with vines, and then use them to bind him to a pole. I feel as though you’ve worked under worse conditions.”

You swallowed a retort, knowing he’d only tease you for it. It was true, you’d handled yourself in many a dangerous situation as an Avengers, but this was different. You were an up and coming fashion designer- your work hadn’t yet been recognized by anyone of consequence. Loki had asked you to design him something for one of Tony’s ridiculous parties, so it would be the first time that someone so recognizable would be wearing something you’d made to an event with countless people. You’d seen how tabloids and people on the internet would rip apart celebrity fashions at any given opportunity. The idea of dressing Loki in anything less than spectacular at what would technically be your big debut was horrifying.

Also, it was Loki. 

You and he had.... something. Officially, you were friends and colleagues, but you knew damn well that friends didn’t shamelessly flirt or gaze longingly at each other. It was clear to everyone including yourselves that you were more than friends, but no one said anything of it.

Perhaps the rest of the team thought it was just a running joke that you and Loki would eventually stop finding funny. The way you frequently daydreamed about kissing Loki breathless seemed to indicate otherwise, though.

“So, green is our main color, and we’re accenting with black and gold.” You sorted through your collection of colored pencils, plucking out every green you had and holding them out to him. “Pick a shade.”

Loki surveyed your assortment, before selecting a jade green and turning it over in his fingers. “This one.”

“Lighter than you usually go for,” You remarked, taking the pencil back and setting it aside. 

“Perhaps I’m going for something different.” He replied simply, a smirk playing at his lips. “Besides, wasn’t it you who said I looked good in lighter colors? When Thor made me wear that absurd yellow sweater?”

You felt your face heat up. You remembered the incident clearly. You’d only ever seen Loki sporting cool shades of black, gray, brown, or green, but the sunshine yellow of the sweater had been a gorgeous counterbalance to his jet black hair. You’d been mesmerized.

“So you’re trying to impress me, is what I’m hearing.” You fired back, coloring a block of the jade pencil on your paper for reference.

“When am I not?”

You looked back up at him. His smile had shifted from teasing to what could only be described as soft. Hie eyes burned through your own, and you quickly refocused on your sketch pad before you spontaneously combusted.

“Is there anything specific you have in mind for this, or do I just get free rein?” You asked, finishing the outline of the suit. “Because I know you said regal, but there are a lot of angles we could take with that.”

“Nothing terribly over the top,” (Words you’d never thought you’d hear him utter) he conceded. “The color will be eye catching as it is.”

“Wouldn’t want to steal Tony’s thunder at his own party,” You mused, taping your pencil to your chin thoughtfully. 

“On the contrary, I can’t slip away while he’s not looking if all eyes are on me, now can I?”

“I suppose you can’t.” You sighed, matching his flippant tone easily. You forced yourself to look back up at him, but kept your eyes stubbornly away from his face as your idea came into focus. “What if we had a gold chain draped over your chest from your blazer? We could make it so the ends can be attached to the lapels, and it would lay just on your on your clavicle.” You drew a line arced downwards over yourself with your finger from one shoulder blade to the other to illustrate your thought.

“Interesting. Can I see?” Loki gestured to your pad.

You quickly sketched your idea across the lapels of the suit jacket, and passed the drawing over. “I can pick out a few different shades of yellow and gold if you want to play with color.”

He examined the drawing, lips pursed in consideration. He met your gaze, his eyes sparkling. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

“That’s the first sketch, though!” You sputtered.

“I don’t care, this is the one.” He insisted.

“At least let me come up with a few more ideas, for my own sanity. You might change your mind.”

Loki handed the sketch pad back to you with a heavy sigh and a dismissive wave of his hand. “Do what you must. It’s your craft, I suppose you know it best.”

His attempt at flippancy was a valiant one, but you didn’t miss the smile tugging at his lips, or the way his eyes still gleamed with excitement. 

“We’ll meet back Friday, I’ll have a couple more sketches by then.” You suggested. “I’ll see if I can pull some fabric samples for you to look at, too.”

Loki leaned forward in his seat across from you, taking your hand in his own and kissing the knuckles. Despite him having done it nearly a hundred times over, it still made your poor heart skip a beat. “I’ll be counting the seconds, darling.”

. . .

You were pleased Loki had let you talk him into other options, the final product was much better than your original sketch.

He’d let you hang not just one thin golden chain from the lapels of his blazer, but several. They hung low, artistically looped around the buttons. You’d even affixed one to the shoulder, pinning it in place with a diamond encrusted sunburst.

The color of the suit and the jewelry were just the right amount of gaudiness for Loki. You’d worked so hard to perfect his outfit, you’d had no time to prepare something special for yourself. At the last minute, you took a simple crisp black suit that you hadn’t worn in years and covered it in flowers.

It was one of the times that you could put the beauty of your powers on display, rather than the functionality. You sprung blue salvias from the seams of your jacket, and white gardenias burst out where buttons would’ve been. You sent stems of edelweiss and iris twisting together down your pants, and on impulse, you grew a sprig of fern from your lapel.

Satisfied with your handiwork, you took one last look in the mirror, nodded to yourself, and left your room.

Loki was waiting in your living room, twisting one of his chains around a slender finger. He’d insisted you accompany him as his date and that he’d pick you up at your apartment. You heard his breath hitch when he saw you. You felt as though the air had been stolen from your lungs, as well.

“You look lovely,” He breathed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“So do you,” You replied in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I had a brilliant stylist.” He winked, and slowly came closer. Your toes were touching and you had to tilt your head up to keep his gaze. He was so close, you could smell the expensive cologne he’d only started wearing after you’d told him how much you’d liked it. This was not unusual, Loki often liked to invade your personal space to throw you off guard. Unlike all the other times, though, this time he didn’t crack a joke how easy it was to fluster you and step away. This time he placed a hand on the side of your face, and leaned in even closer.

“Is this alright?” He murmured.

“Yes.” You immediately responded. “God, yes.”

With your consent, Loki placed his lips firmly on top of your own, and kissed you so deeply it made your head spin. You tugged on one of his chains, pulling his body closer to your own, and curling your other hand around the back of his head.

He held you gently, careful not to crush your flowers as he kissed you the way he’d only done in your dreams. His fingers flexed around your upper arm, as if you’d disappear if he loosed his grip for even half a second.

When you parted, he lowered his head to nose at your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve been longing for this.”

“I could say the same thing.”

Loki pressed a kiss to the crook of your next, sending tingles down your spine. “Come then; we have a party to attend.”

“Do we have to?” You nearly whined.

“If we don’t how will anyone see your fabulous work, my dear?” He laughed, but you could hear the thickness in his voice. “We needn��t be there long, anyway. Stark merely asked that we put in an appearance.”

“Fine,” You huffed, tracing a hand over his lapel, coaxing a gardenia that matched the ones you wore from the fabric. “Let’s go then.”

He glanced down at the bloom with affection, then turned his gaze to you. “In a moment,” And he kissed you hungrily.

You ended up being fashionably late.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #Loki Friggason #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki odinson x reader #loki friggason x reader #marvel loki #loki marvel #marvel loki x reader #loki fluff

[ellegreenwxy]

hey! i absolutely love your writing, and i was wondering if you would be interested in doing a one-shot of one of suresh and mcs old dates. he reminisces a lot about all these memories they share, and i can’t stop thinking about all the possibilities of their old dates. he sounds like he isn’t afraid to spend money on her to give her the best. like to take her out to travel or go to try something they have never done before.

(sorry for rambling this man has a chokehold on me) <3

hi anon!! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy <3

and my waves meet your shore ever and evermore

suresh x mc | pre-villa | 3.3k+ words

Cass remained perched on the edge of the daybed, gripping onto her water bottle as if it were some sort of security blanket. She felt like she needed to have one permanently wrapped around her at all times now that she was living in the same Villa as the only man who’d ever broken her heart. But right now, sitting there and listening to him try and reassure her with those same sweet words she’d fallen for four years ago, she would have to settle for gripping the piece of plastic in her hands so she didn’t dig her nails into her thighs. 

Or his eye sockets.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Suresh said, oblivious to the borderline criminal thoughts running through her head in that moment, “you know we had something amazing together. Flying in helicopters around Dubai, swimming in the Med, fine dining in Venice. Or that time in Budapest, getting frisky in Roman Baths…” His voice trailed off and she could see that look in his eyes, that one he always got when they embarked on a new trip.

“I know I hurt you. But we could have that life again.”

–––––§–––––

The little blue car crept its way up the side of the mountain, slowly but surely. She gripped Suresh’s hand, grateful that he’d let her sit on the right side of the backseat, her eyes fixed on the rocky mountainside rather than the city spread out miles below them. She hated heights. Okay, not all heights if their helicopter ride in Dubai had been anything to go off of, but she hated the idea of sitting in a teeny little car, driving down a road they barely fit on. On a mountain. A very tall mountain.

“Not much longer,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice though he still gave her hand a firm squeeze. It calmed her, somewhat, knowing he was there next to her, that he would probably jump out of the car willingly before putting her in any sort of even slightly precarious situation. She was able to loosen her grip on his hand (only a little) at the thought. 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the car finally––thankfully––slowed to a stop. Cass looked out the window and saw a two-story home, vines creeping up the front and sides, encasing the sun-kissed abode in varying shades of green. Suresh stepped out of the vehicle and helped their driver collect their luggage from the trunk, speaking to him for a moment as Cass unbuckled and got out, taking in the building they would call home for the next week as the warm Italian sun beat down on her bare shoulders.

It looked like something out of a movie, the wrought-iron balconies positioned on the second floor like a fairytale waiting to happen. A small table and matching chairs were situated out front, and already she saw them sipping coffee there early in the morning, enjoying the breeze from the sea before it brought the afternoon heat to the shore. She felt a gentle hand on her back and she looked up at Suresh, his warm smile tugging at her heartstrings.

“Want to go inside and get settled?” he asked, and she nodded, walking with him into the home where the inside was just as beautiful as the outside. The kitchen was tiled in vibrant blues and cool whites, the living room decorated with flowery art and navy blue furniture she couldn’t wait to sink into at the end of every night, wine in hand as they talked about what they’d done that day. She found the bedroom upstairs, the large, four-poster canopy bed looking oh-so-inviting after their long travel day, the white bedding glowing softly in the sunlight.

There were two reading chairs positioned towards the balcony, the doors to it closed though she could still see the sea even from where she stood in the room’s open doorway. She made her way through the room to the french doors, propping them open to allow the cool breeze to sweep its way through the space, carrying the smell of saltwater and lemons from the grove near their house with it. 

Cass heard the soft thud of their suitcases being sat down as she stepped out onto the balcony before Suresh came up behind her once more, sliding his arms around her midsection. His lips brushed the column of her throat and she could feel him smiling against her skin. “It’s beautiful out here,” he said, and she simply nodded, allowing herself to lean back against him. From where they stood they could see the beach and the sparkling blue ocean that stretched out before them, clear and dazzling like there were millions of tiny diamonds floating across the water.

“I figured we could rest up today, maybe go out and explore a bit later around dinner, but tomorrow…” His voice trailed off and she turned as much as she could in his arms, looking up at him. 

“What’s tomorrow?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. But just know that you’re going to love it, I promise,” Suresh said, and she smiled. She normally hated surprises, no matter how big or small. And, judging by the look on his face, she had to imagine that this was no small surprise. But, even though she’d always hated them, she’d come to love them because of him. Or rather, she loved them when he was the one doing them. Every surprise was so perfectly planned, usually based on some offhand remark she didn’t even remember making but he remembered it because that was Suresh.

Their entire relationship had been him surprising her at every turn, showing her a world she had grown up wishing she could be a part of, but had never had the money to do it. He never let her feel bad about the money he spent on her, either. And he didn’t ever make her feel as if she owed him anything when he took her on these extravagant trips or to restaurants where a bottle of wine was the same price as an entire month’s rent at her old flat. He just did it because he wanted to do it.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said, before she untangled herself from him and made her way back into the bedroom, falling onto the bed, the soft mattress enveloping her like a warm hug. “God, this bed is like a cloud,” she murmured as she stretched out on the surface of it. She felt it dip on one side and she turned her head to see Suresh laid out on his side next to her, his head propped up on his hand as he looked at her, so much adoration in his eyes she thought her heart would melt.

“How about you get some rest? I can start unpacking and then I’ll wake you up when it’s time to get ready for dinner. Sound good?” he asked, and she nodded, closing her eyes as his lips brushed over her forehead before he got up and got to work unzipping their suitcases, carefully putting her clothes away. The sound of him humming as he worked along with the ocean breeze helped to lull her off to the most relaxed sleep she’d had in ages…

Cass woke up to Suresh talking softly, and she rubbed at her eyes as she sat up in bed, finding him seated in one of the chairs positioned towards the balcony, holding his cellphone to his ear. She got out of bed and padded across the tiled floor to where he sat, resting her hands on his shoulders. His free hand came up to hold her own, his thumb running tenderly over the back of it. “Mhm…I think that’s the right move. Yeah, just tell her to go ahead and move forward with the contract signing. Okay…great. All right, yes, I’ll go over it as soon as I’m back. Okay…bye,” he said before he hung up, placing the phone on the table sitting between the two chairs. 

He tugged her around until she was standing in front of him, pulling her into his lap a moment later. “Everything okay?” Cass asked, combing her fingers through his hair, and he nodded. 

“Everything’s great, love. One of our new clients has been working on this merger for ages and it sounds like it’s finally going to go through. Could mean a big bonus for me and another trip for us,” he said, catching her lips in a soft kiss. He was always thinking about the next trip, or the next nice dinner. It was just how Suresh was, always looking to do something exciting and new and adventurous. “I was just about to wake you up for dinner. The place isn’t too far from here so we can take a nice walk there, enjoy the sights.”

“Sounds perfect,” she agreed. “I’ll go get ready.”

Considering how warm it was outside, Cass opted for light makeup and swept her hair into an updo, a few strands of chocolate brown hair framing her face the way she knew Suresh loved. She’d decided to wear one of the pieces he’d bought her for the trip, a white, strapless, linen jumpsuit that managed to be light and breathable while still clinging close enough to hug the soft curves of her body. She had to admit, it looked impeccable on her. Suresh certainly had a knack for buying clothes, she’d learned.

When she descended the stairs into the living room where he’d been waiting for her to finish up, he broke out into a broad smile that sent butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. “Wow. God, love, that looks stunning on you,” he told her as he rose to his feet. Green eyes ran over her, sending a bit of a shiver through her. It was like he was devouring her with them, though she knew the real devouring would be happening when they got home from dinner…

“Gorgeous,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before he took her hand in his own, walking her outside the front door of the house and down the sloping hillside. She was grateful she’d decided on sandals, knowing her heels wouldn’t have fared well on the cobbled streets which were busy with people leisurely making their way to dinner or to have a drink or to see a friend. That was one thing she loved the most about visiting other places in Europe, seeing how deeply they treasured simply relaxing. No one was ever in a rush, everyone taking their time to enjoy the day ahead of them.

They approached a small restaurant positioned on one of many hillsides overlooking the deep blue ocean. Suresh gave the host his name before the two were led to one of the tables on the balcony, the outdoor space covered with local flora and twinkling lights. Like their vacation house, it looked like something out of a film, so perfect she could hardly believe it was real. “Wow.” It was all she could say as Suresh pushed her chair in for her, taking the seat across from her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? One of the other attorneys at the firm took his wife here when they came on their honeymoon a few years ago. Said it would be the perfect way to start our trip,” he said, and she could feel his eyes on her as she gazed out at the water, the lights from all of the homes on the mountainside reflected on the dark surface. 

“It’s stunning, Suresh. Really, it’s…wow.” It was typical for Cass to be speechless, but this time she was even more so. They’d seen some amazing things but this…she thought that maybe this might be the best thing she’d seen yet. And as she turned to look at him, the lights on the balcony dancing in his green eyes like stars, she was struck with the sudden thought that she wanted to see amazing things like this with him for the rest of her life.

It wasn’t a completely absurd thought. Since she and Suresh had moved in together a few months after their second anniversary, she’d been thinking about their relationship and their future in a more serious light. But the thought of forever with him had never fully formed in her mind until now, especially knowing that she was his first real girlfriend. That type of thing had scared her before, that idea of forever with a single person. But for some reason, the thought of forever with Suresh? It didn’t scare her. Not at all.

“What are you thinking about over there?” he asked, setting his menu aside to get a better look at her. 

“Nothing,” Cass said, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Just that I’m really happy to be here with you.”

Dinner was phenomenal, though she expected nothing less. They ate their weight in pasta and drank some of the best wine she’d ever had, all with that incredible view spread out before them. It was late when they finally stumbled back up the hill to their house, tipsy and full. And as soon as they were through the front door, eager hands found one another’s clothes, tugging at fabric that landed in little piles following them up the stairs to their bedroom like a trail…

Cass woke up to sunlight streaming in through the glass of the balcony doors, and she started to stretch before the arm slung around her stomach tightened around her, keeping her from moving. “Don’t want to get up yet, love,” Suresh mumbled into her neck, his breath warm on her bare skin.

“All right,” she said, reaching a hand up to run it through his silky hair. “Couple more minutes and then I want to go to the beach.” It was a gorgeous day outside, and since they’d arrived, Cass had been eager to get into that beautiful blue water. Swimming in the Med had been on her bucket list for years, and it was hard to believe she finally had the chance to do it. And the fact that she got to experience it with someone she loved? It was the icing on the cake, really.

They laid there together for a few moments longer before Suresh finally let go of her to stretch out, groaning softly. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked as he stood, grabbing his boxers up off of the floor, and Cass nodded.

“Like a baby,” she said, allowing her eyes to roam over his naked figure for a brief moment before she forced herself out of bed, heading over to the dresser to grab their swimsuits. She tossed him his swim trunks and she slid on her bikini, grabbing the white linen pants she’d brought as a coverup and pulling those on over the sage green two-piece. Once he was dressed in his black trunks, a white t-shirt thrown over his toned chest, they made their way down to the beach, hand-in-hand.

But instead of allowing her to drag him towards an empty spot in the sand, Suresh kept walking towards the docks where several yachts were situated out on the water. “Wait, where are we going? I want to get a good spot by the water,” Cass said, and she swore she saw Suresh smirk. It was that “I’m up to no good” smirk he wore whenever he was trying to be sneaky but she always saw right through it.

“Remember that surprise I mentioned yesterday?” he asked, looking down at her as they continued on down the beach. “Well…” Suddenly they came to a stop in front of one of those brilliant white yachts where they were greeted by a man in a captain’s uniform. He nodded at them both before gesturing towards the ship.

“Welcome to your yacht for the day,” he said, and Cass felt her jaw drop as she turned to look at Suresh.

“I know that you’ve always said swimming in the Med was on your bucket list. I wanted to make sure you had as perfect of a time as you deserve,” Suresh said, and Cass didn’t think she could love him more than she did at that moment.

They’d done a lot of extravagant things. Even the helicopters in Dubai had been more than she’d ever expected. But this? Knowing how much she’d wanted to see Italy, how she’d wanted to swim in the sea, and he did this for her to ensure it would be better than she’d ever dreamed it could be? How would she ever love someone as much as she loved him when he did things like this for her?

“This is amazing,” she whispered, and he leaned down, kissing her tenderly. 

“Come on, let’s climb aboard or whatever it is they say,” he said, grinning against her mouth, and she laughed, following him onto the ship. Not surprisingly, it was gorgeous. The captain gave them a tour of the space, everything from the sun deck to the dining room to the master suite that he’d assured them they were more than welcome to use, though Cass knew they’d be spending most of their time outside. Especially on that sun deck, which was rather large, with a beautiful round, white daybed for them to sunbathe on. They had their own bartender at their beck and call, and a chef to prepare them lunch and dinner. Suresh had really taken care of everything to make sure it would be a perfect experience for her.

“You know, the house was enough. You didn’t have to do all of this,” she said, gesturing to their surroundings, and he shook his head as he guided her over to the daybed, placing their bags on the ground next to it.

“I wanted to do this, love. Honestly,” he assured her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “As soon as you told me how much you wanted to go to Italy, I knew I wanted to do something big like this. I just…I don’t know, I wanted to do this for you because I think you deserve it.”

Cass could feel tears burning her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. She’d never had much growing up. Her mother had been a single mother and an artist. They’d barely scraped by just doing the bare minimum––just surviving. There hadn’t been money for vacations or fancy clothes or nice meals. This was a life she wasn’t used to and sometimes she wondered if she really did deserve it––if she really deserved Suresh––especially when he did things like this. But to hear him say that he thought she did deserve it…it meant more to her than she was sure he’d ever know.

“I love you so much,” she said, and he smiled.

“I love you too, baby.” He reached over and grabbed her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “Now come on, how about we go for a swim, hm?”

As soon as the yacht was far enough out to sea, they leapt off of the ship together, hand-in-hand, crashing through the water she’d been dreaming about seeing for years. It enveloped her like a blanket, warm from the sun, and she was sure she could have stayed there forever like some kind of mermaid. And when they finally came up for air, gasping for breath and laughing, Cass knew she wanted this to be her forever. No matter what it took.

–––––§–––––

Cass felt a traitorous tears slide down her cheek, the memory of that day raw like an open wound. That had been the exact moment she’d decided she would propose to him, the moment she knew she wanted him forever. It had felt so perfect, like nothing in the world could have stolen her joy in that moment. 

But he had. He’d stolen away her joy. Her future. Her trust. Her faith that she was capable of loving someone and being loved by someone. 

“I don’t know if we can.”

#litg ff #litg fanfic #litg suresh #litg eitv #litg s5 #suresh x mc

[thewarriorspecial]

The Order of Things

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen | John Stewart/Wally West

Additional Tags: Strangers to Lovers, Tropetember, Tropetember 2022

Wally kisses like a lightning strike and it knocks John's priorities out of order.

Strangers to Lovers at Flash speed. 0 to 60 like a Porsche. Haha. Cuz Wally's a mechanic.

I'll see myself out.

John stalked down the halls of the watchtower as he tried to prioritize his problems in his head. With one half of the list being Sinestro and the other half Guy Gardner, it didn’t leave a lot of time for more personal issues. Issues like, when was the last time John had a chance to wash the regular clothes under his Lantern uniform? Or, when was the last time he actually got his hair cut instead of just shaving his head in the shower? When was the last time he had a beer with a friend, or dinner with someone pretty and smart?

He needed someone to bounce some ideas off of. He had collected a few samples of residue from a horrible new weapon Sinestro was developing. To cull the masses, keep control. Flash was some kind of scientist in real life, and John was ready to bet good money he could come up with some way to counteract the Sinestro Corps attacks on their latest planetary victim. Or maybe like, he could just drop Flash on the planet and then he’d could wave his arms around and just…suck the chemical fog out into space. One of those cool superhero solutions that didn’t require a STEM degree. Really, John was open to suggestions. 

He smiled to himself, “Heh,” he thought, “Suck. Just suck the planet clean.” There was a good joke in there and when it arrived he was going to tell Mogo, immediately. He added that thought to his mental list of Other Things that could be dealt with after Sinestro and after Gardner. In that order.

John rounded the turn that split between the security room and the rec room. He followed the sound of cartoons and plastic crinkling to where Flash was stretched out over two office chairs even though there was a perfectly good couch, right there.

“Flash,” John boomed, “I need you in the lab. The Sinestro Corps has begin devel—“

“Woah, buddy. At ease,” came the unfamiliar voice. Come to think of it, the face is a bit unfamiliar up close as well; the jaw is a bit more square, eyes are green and not blue. 

John’s head tilts to the side as he considers this person he thought he knew, “Uh, I was…”

“Nah,” the man says, opening his mouth and devouring a fistful of mini candy bars like a snake, “We don’t tell Flash what to do, ok chief?”

“Did…do you even chew?”

“Super speed. ‘Sides, I never choke,” Flash says as his hands blur around the many candy wrappers until their in a tight little ball. He raises his arms over his head and with an elegant flick of his wrist, sends the abused plastic hurtling into the nearest garbage can, dead center. He makes a sound that’s more like a dog’s bark than a whoop of excitement.

“So, you’re Flash. Not the Flash.”

Flash’s forehead wrinkles with frustration and he purses his lips, “Hm, lemme check.” John is suddenly engulfed in a wind tunnel, feeling his feet slide backwards with the force. Papers scatter off of tables, blinds clatter, people gasp in the hallway, and an entire tray of cookies vanishes. John Stewart, in his skintight uniform and close cropped hair appears untouched by the superhuman force that spun around him. 

Flash appears where he originally stood and the maelstrom dies down, “Yup, definitely the Flash,” he smirks as he bounces on his toes. 

“How am I supposed to tell you two apart, then?”

Flash barks a laugh, “For one, I’m funny. Two, bam!” Flash exclaims, pointing two long-boned fingers at his crotch. John refuses to look down. “Check the belt,” Flash says and John still refuses to look down. Flash clicks his tongue, “Whatever, I seen you lookin’, “ he grins again. 

“I guess I call you Flash as well, then?” John asks, fighting the smile that wants to settle across his face. He’s not sure why. Old habits, maybe. Wait, did…Flash imply…Is he flirting? He’s not—he not wrong, it’s just—

“You could,” Flash croons, stepping unnecessarily close and shaking John’s extended hand, “but my friends call me Wally.” He turns his big green eyes up at John then, and flashes a dazzling smile.

“Alright. I’m John,” he says, swallowing hard. His mouth was suddenly dry. Yes, Flash—Wally—is definitely flirting. 

“So we’re friends, then?” Wally asks, gently running his thumb over the back of John’s hand. He still hasn’t let go.

“I mean—“ It seemed all of John’s game had been sucked away in Wally’s wind tunnel. Was that a Flash thing? Could they do that? Some sort of mind effect? 

Wally’s eyes trail down John’s body. When they snap back up to meet John’s, he runs the tip of his tongue over the bottom of his teeth, “You don’t wanna be my friend, John?” 

“Uh, yup. Yes,” John corrects, trying to clear his throat. “That would be good, yeah.”

John feels the air around them crackle and the hair on his arms stands up. Wally pulls his hand out of the handshake and it settles on John’s shoulder. Wally’s other hand rests at the back of John’s neck. John’s skin tingles. The air starts to smell like…chlorine? He’s sure he can taste blood or metal where his tongue is pressed to the roof of his mouth. John reaches out one curious hand, resting it on Wally’s waist. He feels Wally’s entire body subtly vibrating. He can feel stinging at the tips of his fingers and the heel of his palm where they first make contact. 

Wally leans in, sparks jumping from his lips to John’s just before they touch. When Wally kisses him, it’s warm. It’s nice. A languid press, more than a quick peck but much too quick to satisfy. John’s chest clenches up as he feels a hot rush of energy slice down through his body and out of his right foot. For a moment, his body vibrated at the same frequency as Wally’s and he could hear something buzzing in his head. All too soon, Wally’s pulling away leaving John suddenly cold and still. 

“Later, bestie,” Wally grins again, and then he’s gone, leaving just a red streak and the smell of ozone in his wake. 

“Well,” John thinks, “okay.” He’s still standing there, head tilted slightly to the side, arm still extended, fingers still encircling the body that had been there just a moment ago. He shakes out his hands, rolls his shoulders, and considers his hands for a moment. He’s the only Lantern that doesn’t wear the uniform gloves. Could that be how Wally was able to effect him so quickly? His shield absorbed most of the shock but the sensations remained. “Did I almost just die? How much power can he put out? That’s kinda hot,” John thinks. 

Nah. It’s the bare hands. That must be the reason, he decides as he resumes his walk around the Watchtower. 

In his mind, John takes the battered little post-it note that says ‘dinner with someone nice’ and moves it to the top of the list. Dinner with Wally, joke for Mogo, Sinestro, Gardner. In that order.

A/N: This is absolutely my most favorite short piece, my favorite John I've written, and my favorite Wally I've written. I love Wally and his powers and bringing those mechanic details--I get to use my life experience for those! (the skills not the powers, ha, I wish.) Thanks for reading! <3

#*myfic #johnwally

[sakinotfound]

A relationship with Itachi had he lived

Pairing: Itachi Uchiha x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, NSFW

Synopsis: What a relationship with Itachi would be like had he lived. My headcanons on how Itachi is and would be as a boyfriend.

Warnings: Mentions of killing, blood, sexual activities.

A/n: listen i know i have alot of things piled up both here as well as irl but i had enough of y'all sleeping on Itachi. so i had to take matters in my own hand. I'm gonna post alot about Itachi these days.

• Ok so like everyone always says Itachi is all mature, calm and collected person and no doubt he is! BUTTTT I bet Itachi has a mischievous side of himself.

• I mean when Itachi finds someone who he can fully trust and be himself around, he is going to be way more free than he shows himself to be.

• Imagine you both are chilling out so he would casually make witty remarks here and there which would either leave you dumbfounded with blinking eyes or you both would burst out laughing.

• I think he is the type to be more fun and would have a higher energy level when he is around someone who would not judge him or expect some kind of behaviour from him. Of course it would take some time because all his life he was told how to be and people always expected something out of him. So now having someone who he doesn't have to show a particular side of himself to, would be a surprise. But a welcome one at the same.

• As much as I headcanon Itachi being a more indoor person, I have a feeling he likes going on nature sprees with his significant other. He likes just roaming around with her and living in the moment. When there are no missions, no plannings, no constant threat to life - just him, his soulmate and the pretty pretty nature.

• Walking through the tall trees in the forest, sitting on the river banks against a tree, dipping their feet in the slow stream and the cool water or sometimes just swimming around. Hiking the hills or playing in the snow. Going to the mountain top and being surrounded by clouds. Or morning walks at 6 a.m. when there is little to no commotion around. Sunsets at hill tops, nights against a tree trunk with your head on his shoulder, cuddling together. 

• He likes laying his head in his soulmate's lap with her playing with his hair and spraying light kisses every now and then. He likes being pampered and cared for. He loves the fact that somebody loves him so much that they enjoy his company, want to be alone with him and show affection to him. It's been so long he has felt himself be this free. It's been so long somebody has handled him or rather he has handled someone so gently with his big ninja hands. He loves that for once he doesn't need to be on his guard, stiffened and stoic but rather someone else takes care of him and loves him, shows affection to him, supports him.

• Talking about hands, I highly headcanon Itachi has thin hands with long slender fingers. You know the type I am talking about?

• Ok Imagine this, Itachi and his soulmate just sitting in the living room with a cup of tea, not talking just reading books. I headcanon that Itachi loves reading. As he should! And if his soulmate is into reading too, it would be a great pastime as well as bonding time. 

• Oooh! Imagine you both read books and leave small sticky notes for each other in there. Colour coded at that! Like pink notes indicate that this particular line or paragraph is dedicated to her and like neon green ones are what your own thoughts are about whatever is written! And this becomes your new form of communication. You share your thoughts and ideas through that. It's just so cute and intimate at the same time for you both. 

• Itachi loves cooking or baking with you. It's a smooth process too! I bet he's great at cooking and if you are into it too then it's a bonus! He loves making dishes for you. Like if you come from work, a mission or something else and then he has prepared a whole gourmet meal for you. It's intimidating at first but so freaking lovely. It shows he cares, he cares a lot.

• There are small dances, little jokes, pussy eating sessions and long hugs with light music in the background.

• I think his form of affection is acts of service and physical affection. It's very soft and gentle. And when he does it, it's kind of like you just melt into it and forget about the world around you. It's just you and him.

• Itachi has killed a lot of people and has lost a lot of them too, so he wants to cherish every single moment with you. Naturally he is grateful for you and loves you a lot! Nothing about this relationship is taken for granted. He has learnt that lesson long ago.

• He gets excited about little things sometimes. He gets bursts of energy out of nowhere when he finds or talks about something he is very passionate for. And then he becomes like an excited child but still cAlM and CoMpOsEd because "image". Bullshit.

• The crippling eyesight added with his disease puts a lot of stress on Itachi and he gets tired. Like really tired. He gets annoyed sometimes when he can't see things properly when others can. His chest aches as well as his throat burns from all the big heavy coughs filled with his blood. Of course they have reduced after Tsunade gave him medications but having chronic illnesses is stressful and saddening. 

• Well if you are a medic nin and very good at your job, I think you would do your best to find a permanent cure for this curse or at least find a better medicine to ease his life. 

• But anyways when he is having a hard time and he sees you there with him, helping him out and soothing him after all the mess that he has to deal with, he can't help but smile. He is happy to have you. He isn't alone in this. You are always going to be with him at all points. You are a constant in his life forever. That makes his heart ten times bigger.

• Itachi loves resting his head on your chest. Just listening to your heartbeat, basking in the warmth of your body, feeling relaxed when your fingers would scratch his scalp lightly and when they would run through his hair, smiling contentedly as you place a lingering kiss on his head. He enjoys receiving love from you.

• As his relationship with his soulmate grows with time and both of you become more comfortable and at ease with each other, it becomes more intimate.

• Itachi is a giver. I think that's a known fact and a lot of people on this site have said that. So naturally he enjoys giving his soulmate all the pleasure he can. 

• But when he is at the receiving end, he is a little… shy. Everyone has always taken something out of him and he is now wired to give. So when he sees his soulmate willing and enthusiastic about giving him something, giving him the pleasure which he always gives to her, giving him her affection it makes his heart beat a thousand times a minute. He becomes red and shy. He feels selfish, as if he is using her so he tries to deny it. 

• But you won't give up. You will make sure Itachi learns to love himself. You will make sure Itachi knows that he is deserving of all that you are willing to give him. 

• I guess Itachi would let out very pretty moans. I guess he wouldn't be able to hold back. He would let out cute whimpers and moans that are like music to your ears. Small huffs, cute moans, you know like "ah-ah-aaah!" Lmao.

• Itachi has a very high sex drive. Itachi has a very high sex drive. Itachi has a very high sex drive. Itachi has a -

• Ok now don't expect absolutely phenomenal and crazy sex with Itachi. Take into consideration he has a respiratory disease. It makes it hard for him to carry out physically exhausting activities. Be considerate with him, he's trying his best. I never said it wouldn't be good, I bet it would be enjoyable but not always a very smooth process.

• Man knows how to give personal space! I bet he sometimes needs alone time to rejuvenate himself, as most INFJs do (yes I am sure he is an INFJ). so give him some space. It's not necessarily you, in fact sometimes his 'alone' time might include being with you or just cuddling with you. He loves you a lot, don't worry. Everybody needs time to themselves more often than not.

• All in all 100/10 boyfriend. A very cute, intimate and mature relationship. You're lucky to find someone like him. And he is even luckier to have someone like you.

#Itachi Uchiha #uchiha itachi #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #uchiha itachi x reader #itachi headcanons #naruto #naruto x reader #anime #itachi fluff #itachi smut #itachi lemon

[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddlestone smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddlestone angst #tom hiddlestone imagine #tom hiddlestone x reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston imagine #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fulff #imagine marvel #marvel imagine #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel endgame #thor: ragnarok

[thefanbasewhore]

Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fatws bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky

[bopbopstyles]

BEHIND THE BAR

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, lots of cursing, heavy banter)

WORD COUNT: 17.3k (she long and you may need to read on desktop)

CATEGORIES: bartender!y/n, fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | Y/N’S LINGERIE | TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE BITS OF BANTER | BLURB MASTERLIST | DRABBLE TAG

a/n: the long awaited bartender!y/n fic has ARRIVED! thank you to my fabulous anons who dreamt up bartender!y/n and made me fall so in love with her and fratboy!harry’s dynamic that i had to write her. she is tattooed, sassy, and full of spunk and i ADORE her. if you need more of her and harry, check out the inspo tag which has all the discourse. concepts for these two are ALWAYS open. s/o to @harrystylescherry, @stellarboystyles, @harrysclementines​, @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for beta reading and @bfharry​ for providing harry’s dad joke 😘

“Cheers, Birthday Princess,” you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. “How about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?”

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

or

Y/N is a bartender and Harry’s obsessed with her

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

In hindsight, perhaps taking a job as a bartender at the campus bar as a freshman wasn’t your smartest idea. You had to spend most of your weekend nights behind the bar trying to hear orders from slurring frat boys ordering the cheapest beer on tap and got shit tips because apparently your classmates didn’t care about tipping their bartenders. But at the same time, it was a great way to always drink for free and make friends, both with the other bartenders and with students who frequented the bar, as well as the neighborhood regulars earlier in the evening.

The thing you loved most about it, though, was the power you held behind the bar. It was your space, space where you made the rules and could throw out any person who messed with you. Which, as a stunningly gorgeous 21-year-old girl serving alcohol at a popular bar, happened plenty. You and Mike, the bouncer who usually shared shifts with you, had a hand signal that you could give him whenever someone was causing problems, and he would happily come to the bar and throw out whatever obnoxious man was giving you trouble. You frequently considered that Mike actually enjoyed throwing people out of the bar.

It was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week and nearing one AM. The bar was packed, bodies pushing past one another to get to the bar, girls drumming their fingers on the fake wood counter. Tendrils of your long black hair stuck to the back of your neck, the result of constantly being on the move from the moment the rush hit until the bar closed. A cropped black tank top stuck to your skin, the sliver of skin between the hem of the shirt and the top of your black skinny jeans not enough to keep your body cool. Your ponytail swung back and forth as you moved, winding around Matt, the other bartender tonight, with ease. The two of you usually shared shifts, both being students and having the same availability. Generally, he was a good guy, taking the drunk guys so you didn’t have to deal with them and always making sure people didn’t give you trouble. The one downside to Matt, though, was his frat brothers. They appeared every shift without fail, bringing with them chaos and an inordinate amount of drink orders. They loved to annoy you, asking you the contents of every fancy drink they could think of and asking about your love life.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different.

You noticed the minute they entered the bar, a collection of t-shirts, a couple of jerseys you despised, and a button down shirt or two, all of them talking and yelling at each other. “Matt, your fan club is here!” You called down the bar, and Matt laughed as he grabbed the vodka off the wall to make a drink for two girls that were staring at him with wide eyes.

You grabbed two shot glasses and the handle of tequila from where you’d left it below the bar. “Salt and limes?” You asked the girls who had ordered the shots. They were most definitely not twenty-one, but then again, serving underage college students was how the bar made any business. The girls nodded, and so after you had poured the shots, you grabbed the salt shaker and two cut limes, pressing the limes into the rim of the glasses and pushing all the items across the bar. One of the girls handed you her card and you heard the words “Keep it open!” over Taste by Tyga and Offset that was blaring in the bar. It was your playlist, one that you’d perfectly curated for the bar with input from the other bartenders, and you were pretty proud of it.

After swiping the girl’s card and adding it to the stack of open tabs, you whirled back around to take the next customer. The sight of his brown curly mop and gleaming green eyes made you sigh—it was Harry. He, frankly, was a bit obsessed with you, but he was Matt’s little so you let it slide. Also, Harry’s attention didn’t make your skin crawl, instead it made your belly clench and witty comebacks fall easily from your mouth. The two of you had settled into a consistently flirtatious banter and you didn’t mind it, frankly. Sometimes, it was the highlight of your night.

The first time you ever met Harry, you noticed him long before he finally spoke to you. He was sitting at a booth not too long after your shift started, so it wasn’t super busy yet. He had caught your eye because he wouldn’t stop staring at you and he had a weird bandana wrapped up in his hair. (Or was it even a bandana? Maybe a scarf? You couldn’t be sure.) It wasn’t the creepy kind of stare that made you call the bouncer over, but the kind that made you blush against your every attempt not to. When Matt came in, a bit late as usual, Harry beelined to the bar, sitting down in front of him.

“Y/N, this is Harry,” Matt had said, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the wall and pouring some in a glass, then adding Coke to it before pushing the glass towards Harry. “He’s my little.”

You leaned onto the bar, the surface still dry since it wasn’t packed yet. “I was waiting for you to say hi. Saw you staring for the past fifteen minutes.”

The blush that rose to Harry’s cheeks made you smile at him, and Matt chuckled. “Staring isn’t nice, H.”

“Wasn’t staring,” Harry mumbled. “Just watching you make drinks.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Have you never seen a bartender before?”

“No, fuck,” he said to himself and you internally grinned at making him a bit embarrassed. He was easy to mess with, especially now that you had confirmed that he had, in fact, been watching you. “You’re just good at it.”

You looked to Matt. “He thinks I make good drinks,” you informed your co-worker. “What do you think, Harry? Am I better than your big?”

Harry could tell he had dug himself into a hole, his eyes sweeping between you and Matt. “I—I don’t know—maybe?” Matt’s eyes widened and Harry stumbled over his words, trying to correct course. “No, no, Matt’s better. Matt is definitely better.”

You leaned forward a bit more, inching closer to Harry. “Thought you said I was good at it?”

You could feel his eyes drift to where your cleavage was exposed from the deep-v of your black t-shirt. “You are.”

“So which one of us is better?”

“You.”

Matt groaned and you moved away, a triumphant grin on your face. “Not fair,” Matt said. “Harry’s got a crush on you, of course he’d say you’re better!”

Harry choked on his drink and you raised your eyebrows at him. “A crush, huh?”

“Shit,” Matt said. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

You bumped your hip against his. “It’s ok, Matty boy. I figured that out when he wouldn’t stop staring at me.”

Harry blushed and you moved away, tending to the other customers at the bar.

That night had begun the back-and-forth between you and Harry, a playful dynamic of flirtation and jokes that usually left you triumphant and Harry blushing at the bar. He kept showing up early and Matt would tell you things like “Oh, he’s just coming by to drop off my charger” or “He just wants to chat.” All of them were excuses for Harry to be in the bar with just you, Matt, and a couple of customers, him having your relatively undivided attention. He’d tell you terrible jokes and ask you questions about your classes or family, most of which you ignored. You never asked him questions back, just let him talk and you listened, although you pretended like you didn’t, because you didn’t want to encourage him.

The truth was, though, you didn’t mind him. You kind of looked forward to those conversations. When he got really drunk he was a bit more annoying, repeating your name until you finally paid attention to him, only for him to say nothing except “You’re cute” or something along those lines. He entertained you, at least, and that was more than could be said for most of the patrons.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different than usual. “Y/N!” He said, shoving himself between two people who had managed to snag one of the green vinyl covered bar stools. His hair was messy, perhaps a bit sweaty, and he was swearing a black t-shirt, a silver chain tucked under his shirt. You could immediately tell he was decently drunk already, based on the glassy expression in his eyes and the grin on his face. “Want to hear a joke?”

You wiped off the bar with the towel over your shoulder before answering him. “Sure.”

“What did the therapist say when a naked man wrapped in cling film went into their office?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, resting your hands on the bar and looking at him dead on. “What did they say?”

Harry was grinning at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Clearly I can see your nuts.”

You groaned and Harry just guffawed. “Harry, that was horrible.”

“You just have no sense of humor.”

“Says the guy making jokes like that,” you shot back. “Now, what do you want?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. “Five fireball shots.”

You had to take a second before replying because the thought of a fireball shot makes you want to vomit. The combination of the cinnamon flavor and the burn it sent down your throat was one you hated, but it seemed Harry enjoyed it. “Really, Harry? Fireball?”

“What? It’s good!”

You shook your head, but grabbed shot glasses, laying them out in a line on the bar. “You’re insane.” You turned, grabbed the bottle of Fireball, and then returned to him.

“Make it six,” he said, slashing you a smirk.

“If it’s for me I am not drinking it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” you told him, cocking your hip. “And I have good taste in alcohol.”

“Y/N, please,” he begged, pouting slightly for you.

Sometimes he was such a child, you thought as you gave in, grabbing another shot glass. “Fine,” you told him. “But this is the only time.” He grinned at you, and you just poured the shots, drawing a line down the glasses with the alcohol.

He snagged one of the shot glasses and you took one at the end. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his shot, and you did the same, knocking the glasses together enough for a clink to ring out.

You tipped the shot back, letting the burn of the cinnamon whiskey fall down your throat. You swallowed, dropped the shot glass to the counter, and looked to Harry. He was grinning, his empty shot glass on the bar. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Then he picked up the shots, holding them together in his two massive hands, his rings clinking against the glass. You watched him walk away, his shirt disappearing into the throng of people, and then your attention was caught by another patron, asking you for a Long Island iced tea that made you laugh once you had turned away from them.

The night passed with many empty bottles of vodka and gin, the drinks of choice for all the girls who came up to the bar, and you nearly ran out of Budweiser, since it was on tap and the cheapest beer. You were bopping your head along with your playlist, Piece Of Your Heart by MEDUZA ringing through the speakers. The electronic music was supposed to help keep your energy up, but it was three AM and you were beginning to tire, the whiskey and coke you made yourself doing little to keep you going.

People were starting to filter out of the bar, groups heading to get a late night snack or head home. You were thankful for it—if you could start cleaning before official close you would be happy, perhaps being able to get home sooner.

“Can I get another whiskey coke?” You turned and Harry was sitting in a barstool at the bar, right in front of you.

You nodded, grabbing a glass and the handle of whiskey. “Where’d all your friends go?”

“They left.” He drummed his fingers against the wood, the light of the bar catching on the silver of his rings. You were a bit fascinated by them, if you were being honest. Why he wore them, where they came from, what they meant. The same questions rang in your head in reference to the tattoos that littered his arms and peeked out from under his shirt.

“You didn’t go with?” You pushed his drink towards him and returned the jack to its spot on the wall.

He shook his head, taking a sip of the drink you made him. “I was going to wait for Matt.”

You raised your eyebrows and then nodded towards where Matt was leaning over the bar, talking to some girl whose drink had long since been emptied. “I think he’s already got someone waiting for him.”

Harry looked to where Matt was and then shrugged, before turning his gaze back to you. “Guess I’ll just hang out with you, then.”

“Oh really?” You took some empty glasses off the bar where people had left them and dropped them into the bucket under the bar to be taken back to get cleaned.

“You’re more interesting than him anyway.”

You laughed, grabbing an empty shot glass and putting it in the bucket. “And why is that?”

“You’re hot.” He didn’t even pause before he replied.

He licked across his bottom lip after he said it and you couldn’t help but watch the action. It wasn’t like you didn’t know Harry thought you were attractive—you did. It was just that he had never outright told you, or been quite this forward. Usually he was skating around the topic and now that he wasn’t you didn’t quite know what to say. So you said the first thing that popped into your head. “Have you been behind a bar?”

“Only at the house.”

“Your frat house does not count as a bar.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It is not a bar, Harry.”

“Fine. Then no, I haven’t.”

You took a step away from him and waved your hand at the space. “Would you like to?”

This time, it was him raising his eyebrows at you. “What am I going to be doing?”

“I’ll teach you to make drinks.”

“I know how to make drinks,” he scoffed.

“Jungle juice doesn’t count.”

He huffed and then pushed away from the bar, standing to his full height. “You’re being mean,” he stated, but walked to the end of the bar and came around the side anyways. “It feels so different from back here.”

You turned, one hand on the bar and the other on your hip. “What do you mean?”

“Dunno. Feel…powerful, I guess.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “So, Mr. Bartender, what do you want to make first?”

Harry considered his options, looking around the bar and taking in the options in front of him. He looked a bit overwhelmed, if you were honest. You glanced around, checking on how busy it was, and you were thankful that it was pretty much empty, so no one would probably be bothering you and Harry. “I’ve always wanted to make an Old Fashioned.”

“Can do,” you answered, grabbing the proper glass from the shelf, and a bottle of your favorite bourbon, setting both on the counter in front of you. “Do you know what’s in one?” He shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks, and you smiled to yourself. He could be so goddamned cute sometimes. “It’s whiskey, bitters, and a bit of sugar. Do you know how to muddle?” He shook his head again, and you nodded, grabbing the rest of the supplies you would need.

You spread it out in front of you, popping a sugar cube in the old fashioned glass. “So this is the bitters we’re going to use,” you informed him, passing him the bottle of Angostura bitters. “Put two dashes of that in the glass over the sugar.”

“What the fuck is a ‘dash’?”

“A bit,” you told him. “Just do it.”

He did as you asked, tapping bitters into the glass. “Is that enough?”

You nodded, and then grabbed the soda gun and pressed the button for water, adding a bit to the glass. Then, you passed him the muddler, which got very little use at this bar. In fact, you hadn’t made an Old Fashioned in ages—it wasn’t exactly the drink of choice for most college-aged people. “Now, you’re going to muddle this—like mix them together, crushing the sugar.”

“Why does mixology have the weirdest terms?” He said under his breath and you snorted. He did as you said, listening to your instructions, crushing the sugar and mixing it with the bitters in the glass, the sugar dissolving in the glass.

“Good. Now you add the ice.”

You pulled back the top of the cooler that held the ice, and Harry grinned as he picked up some  with the scooper and filled the glass with it. “Always wanted to do that.”

“And now you have.” You shut the top of the cooler and passed him the bourbon and a jigger. “An ounce and a half of bourbon,” you informed him.

He reached over and took the bottle and jigger, and his close proximity made you inhale. You could smell cologne, a bit of sweat from the party he was at earlier, and a trace of smoke as he moved. The scent had your spine straightening, your mind just as muddled as the contents of the glass. How did he smell so good? He was a college boy. Who gave him the right to be so goddamned attractive and smell this delicious? His long hair, the length not quite reaching his shoulders but close, swung slightly in your face as he pulled away, the tips of his curls brushing against your cheek. He was so close that if he turned his head, your lips would meet.

You tried not to think about that.

But he lingered close to you as he poured the bourbon in the jigger, your sides nearly touching, just half a step away from one another. If the music hadn’t been playing, you probably would’ve been able to hear him breathe and he could’ve heard your breath hitch when his bicep flexed as he held the bourbon. Your eyes trailed over the tattoos on his arms, dancing over the ship and the rose at his elbow, all the way down to the anchor at his wrist.

“Now you’re the one watching me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, where he was looking at you, smirking. “Pour the shot in, Harry.”

He looked back to the jigger he was holding, and tipped it into the glass, the amber liquid dropping through the glass. You handed him the stirrer and he twirled it in the glass, before setting it back down on the bar. The sound of his rings hitting the glass sounded in your ears as he grasped the drink, bringing it to his lips.

His eyes were on yours as he tipped it back slightly, letting the alcohol pass between his lips. You tried not to focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sipped. When he lowered the glass, his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and it made you tug your own into your mouth softly. Then you asked, “How is it?”

With his gaze trained on your mouth, he answered, “Delicious.”

“Y/N!” Your head bounced up to see Mike darting his head inside. “Time for close.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he was right—more time had passed than you realized. “Shit—yeah, sorry Mike. Matt,” you called down the bar to your co-worker who was very caught up in his flirtation. “Will you kick all of these people out for me?”

“Even me?” Harry asked and you roll your eyes at him.

“You can stay,” you told him and he gave you a smile, taking another sip of his drink. “As long as you help me clean up.”

While Matt kicked the remaining stragglers out, making sure the ones that are too drunk get in an Uber, you and Harry cleaned up. He helped you flip chairs on top of tables and pick up the glasses littered across surfaces, even in the bathroom. You filled the bin with the glasses and took them into the kitchen, filling the industrial dishwasher to the brim. He even took a rag and wiped down the tables, singing along to the Tame Impala you’d turned on and finishing off his Old Fashioned. You put the bitters away and the remnants of the drink he had made, and toss some lime rinds into the trash, wiping off the last bit of the bar.

“I’m going to head out,” Matt called to you from the door. He’s got his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders, a wide smile on both of their faces. “You good, H?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to walk Y/N home.”

This was news to you. “I drove,” you replied.

“Then can I snag a ride?” He asked, and you shrugged. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Also, the idea of making him walk didn’t sound like a good idea, even though the frat house wasn’t too far from the bar.

“Sure.” You grabbed your purse and leather jacket from where you’d stashed them under the bar, and pulled them on. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You waved goodbye to Mike, who was left to lock up, and walked around back to where your car was parked. It was a must have for you, not wanting to walk home at four in the morning after a long night of working. Plus, you never drank much while you worked—all you had had was that disgusting Fireball shot earlier in the night and a whiskey coke throughout the evening. Harry followed behind you, his hands in his pockets as he walked, the faint light from the street lamp illuminating the sidewalk leading to the parking lot.

“It’s dark,” he said when you turned into the lot.

You unlocked your car and turned to look at him. “It’s four AM. Of course it’s dark.”

He moved towards the car, pulling open the passenger side door. “No, I just mean that it’s dark for you to be walking to your car alone.”

“Oh.” You tossed your purse into the backseat and slid into the driver’s side, flipping on the ignition. “Matt or Mike walk me to my car most nights.”

His long legs ended up a bit cramped in the passenger seat of your car and it made the corner of your mouth turn up. “Good,” is all he said before pulling on the seatbelt and clicking it. You reversed out of the spot, your phone automatically connecting to the Bluetooth as you flipped on your turn signal. “That’s the wrong way.”

You turned and looked at him. “Don’t you live at the house?”

He shook his head though. “No, I’ve got an apartment with some brothers on the West side of campus. Take a left here.”

You absorb this information and switch the turn signal. “Why don’t you live there? I thought most people did.”

“I like the privacy, I guess. When you live with all your brothers, they tend to know every bit of your business.” He was looking out the front windshield and you did the same, eyes on the dark streets in front of you. Being this close to him in the car had your body temperature spiking a bit, although you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone. Harry was just the boy who flirted with you every chance he got and was Matt’s little. He was just someone to entertain you on slow nights or when you were stressed. Right?

“Take a left at the light,” he said, breaking you out of your trance. You flicked on your turn signal and eased into the turn lane, swinging your car onto a side street. “I’m having a birthday party next weekend at the house if you want to come,” he suddenly said.

Your eyes bounced to Harry, who wasn’t looking at you, his palms resting on his knees. You could sense the tension in his body—was he nervous? Did you make him nervous? “Is it your 21st?”

He quirked a smile at that. “How’d you know?”

“Well, you’re a junior. I just assumed.” Matt also might’ve mentioned it once or twice, but you didn’t tell Harry that.

A blush crept across his cheeks. “I—uh—it’s on Saturday at nine. We’re hitting the bars after, but the thing at the house is just going to be brothers and drinks and some music. Pretty low-key, I think.”

“I’ve got work,” you told him. “But I’ll try and stop by before my shift. I’m not supposed to be there until ten.”

He nodded quickly and you tried not to think about the fact that Matt was never going to let you live this down. What were you even doing, saying yes to Harry? You weren’t even interested in him. He was just a boy to flirt with, someone who told you bad jokes and ordered Fireball shots. “It’s right up here,” he said, pointing to a house off to the right.

You slowed the car in front of a one-story bungalow, a couple of cars in the driveway and lawn chairs on the front lawn. “You live in a house?”

“Somehow it was actually cheaper,” he explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Plus, kind of nice not having people complaining about the noise.”

The area was definitely still on campus, but you didn’t know anyone who lived over here. “Are your neighbors all students too?”

He nodded. “Some other brothers have a place a couple houses down, there’s a house of Pi Phis over there. But yeah, it’s all students. On game days it’s a fucking mess.”

You put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. “I can imagine.” Harry didn’t make any moves to get out of the car, just sitting there staring at the dashboard of your old Toyota, his hands fidgeting on his thighs. “Harry?”

“Fuck,” he exhaled, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. “I...” Then he glanced over at you, and under the dim streetlamp you could see the expression in his eyes. It’s one you knew well. It’s the look he gave you when you wore your favorite lace bodysuit that was conservative enough to wear out, or when you gave him just as flirtatious of a comeback as the one he served you.

Then, all of a sudden he was moving towards you, his hand curving around the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. It was awkward, the seatbelt holding back your shoulder, but it didn’t stop you from leaning towards him, meeting him halfway. His lips tasted like bourbon and bitters, a trace of Fireball when you nibbled on his bottom lip that was just tucked between his teeth. He was sweet with an edge of fire, and when he tilted his chin slightly to change the angle, rotating his head just enough to kiss you deeper, you knew you were fucked.

For so long, you had been trying to keep him at a distance. Just let him exist as a flirtation, nothing more than that. You’d ignored the thoughts that blazed through your mind when you were drunk with your friends and saw him at a party, his lips on some girl, and you wondered what they would taste like on yours. Now that he was kissing you and you knew what they tasted like, there was no way you would be able to forget.

Especially the way his fingers threaded through your hair, his rings cool against your warm scalp. How he tugged on your lip with his teeth and you let out a soft whine, pulling him closer by the neck of his shirt. The fact that it was nearing four thirty in the morning and you were in your car making out, your seatbelt still on, didn’t seem to matter. The exhaustion that had been all-consuming earlier was gone, your body rushing with adrenaline from the feeling of his mouth tucked against yours, his hands on your skin and the way his lips searched for yours when you pulled away for air.

“I should go home,” you said, breathing heavily as you moved back into your seat.

Harry was looking at you intensely, his lips slick from your saliva, his cheeks flushed from kissing you. His hands still lingered on your neck and hip, and you weren’t ready for him to let go. However, you needed sleep, otherwise the rest of the day was not going to be pretty. You had a paper due on Tuesday you had to write and if that didn’t happen this afternoon after you slept you were fucked. “Yeah,” he finally answered, pulling away. “It’s late.” He shuffled in the seat, turning to push open the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

You nodded, and with one lingering look at you, Harry slid out of the car and shut the door behind him. Under the dim lights you watched him walk to his front door, pulling open the screen door and unlocking it. Once he was inside, you finally turned back on your car and put it in drive, peeling away from the curb without a glance back.

On Tuesday, you were knee-deep in edits for your paper when your phone screen lit up with a text. Despite the fact that you told yourself you would be ignoring any notifications that flashed across your screen, you were intrigued by this message because it was from a number you didn’t recognize. So you leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair you were sitting in (chosen to make sure you stayed awake) and grabbed your phone.

The sight of the message made you choke on air.

Hey, Y/N, this is Harry. Matt gave me your number, I hope that’s ok?

That was it. The whole message. What the fuck were you supposed to do with that? “Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, because now you couldn’t ignore it. You had your read receipts on, something you turned on one time when you were breaking up with an ex and wanted him to know that you were ignoring his messages on purpose, and never turned off. So now Harry knew you had read his message.

So you typed back, hey! what’s up?

The typing dots appeared and you had the sudden urge to throw your phone halfway across the room as you waited for his reply. But you didn’t, because Harry’s text popped through before you could take any actions to make it seem as though you weren’t staring at your phone waiting for his text.

Just wanted to say thanks for the ride home on Saturday. Then, in a separate message, Also, the invite for my birthday party still stands, but no pressure.

You nibbled on the edge of your thumb nail, your other thumb poised over the screen as you considered what to reply. You decided on coy. i'll see how it goes :) you wrote out, and then thumbs up reacted to his thank you text.

Looking forward to it is what he replied with, and that felt like the end of the conversation, so you locked your phone, turned it on Do Not Disturb, and tried to re-focus on the paper open on your computer screen.

It took everything in your body not to check your phone a couple more times, just to see if he’d kept the conversation going. You had no idea what to say to him—he was the one who texted you in the first place. It seemed like his job to keep the conversation going, not yours. So you let the conversation linger, not even saving his number in your phone.

When Saturday rolled around, you considered for a long time whether or not you were going to go to Harry’s birthday party. Matt had texted you too, combining the text with a notice that he wasn’t working that night and Lucy was covering his shift, which meant you were going to be doing all the heavy lifting. Lucy was a freshman, new to bartending, and most definitely was hired so she would be ready to replace you when you graduated next year. The fact that Matt texted you told you that Harry must really want you to come, even if it was just for a bit.

So you turned on your getting ready playlist and grabbed your favorite bodysuit—it was long sleeved and high necked with a mesh leopard print, meaning that when you wore your black bralette underneath it, it would show through. It was enough to get eyes on you (you could neither confirm nor deny if you specifically meant Harry’s eyes), but not too much that you felt completely exposed, thanks to the long sleeves. You grabbed your black jeans, even though in an ideal world you would’ve chosen your leather skirt instead, but the last thing you wanted was alcohol stuck to your legs all night or some asshole seeing up your skirt when you bent over for ice.

You kept your makeup simple, but in line with the outfit—a light smokey eye, eyeliner, and a tinge of a deep red to your lips. Rhea, your roommate, let you use her dry shampoo, so you sprayed it at your roots, giving your day-old hair some revival. With a pair of gold hoops and a pep talk, you were ready, your phone and wallet slipped into the pocket of your trusty leather jacket.

You had never been to a frat house when you couldn’t hear the music pounding from outside. But as you walked up the grassy front lawn to the KDR house, it seemed quiet—all the lights on, even. You rapped on the door twice, running your hand through your hair as you waited for the door to open. When it did, a guy was standing there who you were pretty sure you recognized from the bar—he was close with Matt and Harry, you thought.

“You’re the bartender, Y/N!” He said, pointing at you with his index finger, lifting it from the red solo cup he held in his hand.

“I am,” you replied. “Harry and Matt invited me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and you tried not to read into that too much. “Come on in, I’m Caleb, Harry’s little.” And that, you realized, was why he was always hanging out with Harry and Matt. You followed Caleb down the hall, which had composite photos on the wall going back to the 70s and 80s. It was weird being inside the house with all the lights on, because you could actually see everything for the first time. You saw what was usually a coat room and discovered it was actually a study of sorts, bookshelves with textbooks and random course books lining the shelves and a couple of old leather chairs in the corner that you usually stashed your jacket on.

He turned into the long living room and kitchen, which was where most of the parties happened in their house, and you were met by a pong table and a collection of boys, many of whom you recognized from the bar. Your eyes scanned over the group, and you found that you were, unsurprisingly, one of four girls in attendance. The others were next to brothers, an arm slung around their shoulders. You found Matt and Harry easily in the crowd, Matt saying something to Harry with his palm pressed to Harry’s chest, his other hand gripping a can of Natty Light. How he could drink such watered down piss while being a bartender you didn’t know and you quickly decided you would be ragging on him for it the next time you worked together.

“Bartender girl!” One of the guys called out, and that made Harry and Matt’s heads immediately swivel towards where you were standing. The discomfort that had been lingering was suddenly there in full force. You hated being the center of attention, something most people never expected since you thrived at the bar. The key part of being a bartender, though, was you had the bar between you and the patrons. It was a safety net, something that gave you power and confidence. Without it, though, you felt naked in a situation like this.

The sight of a tiara on Harry’s head, though, immediately made you feel more at ease. The words Birthday Princess were printed on the tiara in bright pink writing, and the sight of it resting in Harry’s hair brought a smile to your face.

Matt immediately broke into a grin and widened his arms, which you rolled your eyes at. “Y/N! You made it!”

You walked over to him, having nothing else to do, but didn’t give him a hug. “Barely. I can’t stay long—I’m supposed to be there at 10 so Lucy doesn’t kill someone with her heavy handed pouring.”

He chuckled, and then gave Harry a clap on the back. “I’m going to go check on the beer. Have fun, H.”

It left you and Harry alone—or as alone as you could be in a crowded room. Your eyes roamed his body, the black silky shirt drawing in your eyes, white stitching that spelled out his last name on the chest, the way it was unbuttoned low. It was the first time you’d been able to see his tattoos—the edges of what seemed to be wings on his collarbones that you wanted to see the rest of, and a silver chain with a cross hanging on it lying on his chest. You could feel his eyes on you too, and steeled yourself under his gaze, trying to remain confident as you stood in front of him.

“Nice tiara,” you said, breaking the silence.

He blushed, reflexively reaching up to touch it. “I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

“It’s literally a bright pink tiara on your head, Harry, how could I not notice?”

“Matt and Caleb made me wear it. My other little, Tyler, bought it and insisted.”

“Can’t let the family down?” You said, the corners of his lips lifting.

“Guess not.” A silence fell between you again and you busied yourself by investigating the space you were in. The worn couches on the wall, a massive dining table with alcohol covering it, dishes in the sink and a stack of red solo cups on the counter. It seemed like exactly what you would expect from a fraternity house, even if there wasn’t a party going on. Finally, he cleared his throat and thickly asked you, “Want to play pong?”

You blinked, not expecting the question, but shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’ll drink any you don’t want to,” he said.

“Why? Think I’m not any good?”

“No—I just—you drove, right?” He was stumbling over his words and it made you give him a small smile. You decided to be a bit of a tease, and brushed your fingers over the stitches on his shirt, just to mess with his brain a bit.

“I did,” you answered. “But I don’t think I’ll be drinking too much.”

His eyes widened a tad and you watched as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Let’s see your skills, then,” he finally said and you followed him over the table, where they were setting up for another round. He set down his cup on the side of the table and you fiddled with the cups, making the lines straighter. “Ready?” He asked you, his body shifting closer to yours. There was just a hair of space between your hips and you sucked in a breath before nodding.

You hadn’t thought this through, you quickly realized, because pong meant that there was barely any space between the two of you, and he kept brushing against your back and arm as he moved around. When he passed you the ball his fingers touched yours and your eyes would flit to his, only to find his green irises looking right back. The scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath wrapped around you when he laughed close to your ear, the contact of his skin on yours when he gave you a high five and lightly gripped your hand for just a beat too long sent shivers down your spine. When he picked up a cup to drink from it, you watched as his lips—the ones you had kissed exactly a week ago—wrapped around the rim and the beer slid down his throat. You were actively trying not to think about kissing down the column of his neck as you looked back to your cups on the other side of the table.

“Can I get gentlemen’s?” You asked and next to you, Harry nodded, agreeing with your decision to re-rack.  The guys playing you quickly reshuffled your cups and you dropped the beer-covered ball into a cup of water to your right. When you picked up the ball and rolled it between your fingers, you decided to tease Harry a bit more, because it was your favorite pastime. You offered the ball to him, clasped between your thumb and forefinger, and looked him dead in the eyes. “Blow on it for good luck?”

His eyes widened, but then a cocky grin drifted across his cheeks. He leaned in and blew softly on the white pong ball, his pupils dark and focused on yours. Then, at a volume only you could hear, he whispered, “Sure you don’t want me to blow something else?”

Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had your pulse stuttering, you licked your lips and replied with, “Let’s see if you’re so cocky when I’m on my knees.” You turned back to the cups and with ease, you threw the ball as it sank into a cup. You peeked a glance up at Harry, only to find him already staring at you, blinking in rapid succession. “Your turn, Styles.” You grabbed the other ball and pressed it to the stitching on his chest and his lips quirked up, snatching the ball from your grasp.

“Kiss for good luck?” Your eyebrows lifted at his words and he was smiling at you, a cocky gaze fixed on you.

“In your dreams,” you answered with an eye roll.

“Oh, baby, you’re already in them,” he whispered as he tossed the ball. It hit the rim of your one remaining cup before falling in perfectly.

His words rang loudly in your ears as Harry raised his arms above his head in success, ignoring the words he just had said to you. You, however, couldn’t say the same. They were running through your head on a loop. He dreamt about you? You wanted to know more, wanted to know every bit of his dreams, what they looked like and what you did in them.

At the sound of your name you blinked, pushing yourself out of your daydreams. “Yeah?”

It was Harry, his palm resting on your lower back and burning the skin with his touch. “It’s almost ten.”

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling your phone from your jacket. “I—shit I have to go. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “S’fine. I’ll walk you to the door.”

You waved goodbye to your opponents and some of the other boys you had been introduced to. Harry’s hand left your body as you both walked, and you couldn’t help but be disappointed. “Happy Birthday, by the way,” you said as you turned into the hallway, the chatter of the boys over the music fading a bit.

Harry dug his hands into his pockets and smiled at you. “Thank you. And thanks for coming. It—it was nice, having you here.”

The softness in his tone was in direct conflict with the banter at the pong table, but you didn’t mind. You kind of liked that the two of you had this duality, the ability to go each direction. “I had fun.” You pulled your car keys out of your pocket and turned the knob on the door. “I’ll have a birthday Fireball shot waiting with your name on it, Birthday Princess.”

That made his smile turn into a grin, his dimples popping out as you stepped across the threshold and onto the front porch. “Looking forward to it, love.”

As you walked away, you tried not to let his term of endearment fill your every thought, but it was hard, especially when you looked back and he was standing in the doorway, watching you walk to your car. You exhaled and opened the driver’s side door, realizing that you had dug yourself into quite the mess with this boy.

You had been watching the door out of the corner of your eye all night, waiting for Harry and all of his friends to arrive. Lucy had noticed and pestered you about it, but you hadn’t given in. You didn’t feel like the entire bar staff knowing your personal business—Matt was plenty. You busied yourself by serving patrons, making an absurd number of vodka tonics (which you despised, but you had found freshman girls preferred them to gin, for some reason) and opening bottle after bottle of beer.

You were humming along to Broken Clocks by SZA when the door opened and your name was called over the bar, Matt’s voice booming in the space. “Y/N, I need a shot for the birthday boy!” Harry was standing next to him, Matt’s arm thrown over his shoulder, a grin on his face.

You turned and quickly queued In Da Club by 50 Cent, before grabbing the bottle of Fireball off the shelf. When you turned back to the bar, Harry was standing in front of you, the Birthday Princess tiara unfortunately absent. “Where’s your crown, Birthday Princess?” You asked, pouring the dark liquid into a shot glass for him.

“It’s a tiara, Y/N,” he corrected, snatching the shot. “And Caleb accidentally broke it.” You could tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the color in his cheeks that he was more than a few drinks in, no doubt doing shots with the rest of the party before hitting the bars.

“Good to know,” you answered, and just because he was so goddamned cute, you grabbed another shot glass and poured yourself a shot of Fireball.

“Takin’ a shot with me?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Harry was about to say something when the music changed and he let out a cheer, Matt and Caleb and another boy, who you assumed was Tyler, pounded on the bar on either side of him. Then, they began to sing and you could help but guffaw.

“Go, go, go, go go, go, go, shawty/It's your birthday/We gon' party like it's yo birthday/We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday/And you know we don't give a fuck/It's not your birthday!” They sang, and you couldn’t help but join in at the end.

“Shots, shots, shots!” Matt cheered, and Harry lifted his shot glass, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Cheers, Birthday Princess,” you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. “How about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?”

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed lightly on his cheek, a pout settling onto his lips. “Shut up, Styles.”

“Meanie,” he said, moving back to rest normally against the bar. “You have to be nice to the birthday boy, didn’t you hear?”

“Not if he’s a prick,” you informed him, resting your hands on the lip of the bar and locking your elbows, leaning slightly forward. “Now, do you guys want anything else, or are you just going to annoy me all night?”

“Four whiskey cokes,” Matt told you. “And make ‘em strong.”

Throughout the night, their group achieved higher and higher levels of drunkenness. They started singing a Cheetah Girls song in their corner booth, much to your enjoyment, and Matt got on the table, something Mike only allowed because he was an employee, and made the entire bar sing Harry Birthday to Harry. When Mamma Mia came on, Tyler—who you were increasingly discovering was pure chaos in a body, perhaps even more chaotic than Harry and Matt combined—tried to start a conga line through the bar. Not only was he stopped by Mike, but also by the sheer number of people packed into the space.

Meanwhile, you were left behind the bar, fielding drink requests and racking up students’ credit cards with drinks they probably would forget ordering in the morning. You even had one Beer Baptism, an exciting element of the night, when some hockey player informed you he has drank every beer on tap, meaning he had achieved his Beer Baptism status. Harry and Matt lost their shit in the corner when you announced it and rang the bell over the bar, before grabbing two full pints of the hockey player’s requested beer of choice—Budweiser, for some fucking reason—and poured it over his head.

After three, the bar had started to empty out, but the four musketeers in the corner were still going strong. Harry kept coming up to you and asking for a shot of this or such and such drink, and even requested to make an Old Fashioned behind the bar again. You told him he was too drunk to make it right, but next time he could. Every time he came up he offered some sexual innuendo or bad joke, a lingering touch on your hand when you passed him his drink, or a wink that left u scowling at him. He even unbuttoned his shirt a few more buttons so by the time it was just him and his lineage in the corner, it was barely even on him. The whole idea of “No shoes, no shirt, no service” was quickly becoming a possible line you could use, especially when he kicked his feet up on the table and Caleb was trying to grab at his boots and pull them off, much to your amusement.

At 3:45, there were no patrons left except for the booth full of boys, so you had Lucy start cleaning up while you grabbed a beer—your first drink of the night other than the shot you did with Harry—and walked over to the boys. Harry was on the end, since he kept on coming and going from the booth, his knees spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the seat. At the sight of you approaching, he straightened up and set his drink down on the table.

“Hey,” he said, drawing out the Y as you slid in next to him, his arm falling easily around your shoulders.

“Hello,” you answered, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re man spreading all over my booth, Styles.”

Tyler snorted and Harry shifted, pulling his knees in closer together. “Didn’t know it was your booth.”

“I work here, you know.”

“I noticed,” he answered, tongue running over his lip as he looked at you. “I like this top you’ve got on.”

You sipped on your beer before replying, “It’s a bodysuit, actually.”

“So I’ve got a genuine question,” Matt said, leaning in towards you from across the table. “How do you pee with that on?”

“It’s got snaps on the crotch.” For some reason Tyler and Caleb blush at the word crotch and it makes you smile internally. “Can be a bitch to take on and off, though.”

“Huh.” Matt leaned his cheek on his palm. “I never fully understood the appeal.”

“Well,” you said, placing your beer on the table. “They tuck into pants and skirts so there’s smooth lines. But also it kind of feels like you’re wearing lingerie.”

That had all the boys blushing, including Harry, who said, “So that’s like lingerie to you?”

You glanced down at the lace long-sleeved bodysuit you wore and shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I always thought lingerie involved less material, not full on sleeves.”

You mulled this over, and decided to push his buttons a bit more. “So is a babydoll not considered lingerie to you?”

His eyebrows scrunched up and if you were being honest, the expression was positively adorable. You wondered if it was the face he gave when he couldn’t figure out a math problem or was looking at IKEA instructions. “The fuck’s a babydoll?”

“Other than a pet name?” You threw back and Harry quirked a smile. “It’s like a…sexy nightgown, I guess you could say.”

“Sexy nightgown.” Harry stated, mulling over the thought in his head, and you watched as he brushed a hand through his hair, considering the concept. “And that would have more material than what you’re wearing right now?”

You shrugged and took another sip of your beer. “Arguably.”

“Then yeah, I guess that’s still considered lingerie. A sexy nightgown, huh?” He blew out a breath of air and looked to the boys across the booth from you. “Damn, the girls I’ve been seeing have been holding out on me.”

The boys laughed, but you wanted Harry’s attention back on you. Maybe it was the close proximity of his body or the smell of his cologne that overwhelmed your senses, or the way you could see the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen and the low rise of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, but you wanted him. Badly.

So you reached down and placed a hand on his thigh, high enough to make his breath catch but not too high where you were actually touching him. Just close enough to make him consider the prospect. “You’ve been picking the wrong girls, then,” you said, the words low in your chest and Harry’s eyes were on you in an instant. Immediately there was movement on the other side of the booth, Tyler, Caleb and Matt sliding out one by one. “Leaving, boys?”

Matt nodded. “H?”

Harry’s eyes hadn’t left your face and the weight of his gaze had your heart pumping a mile a minute. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His fingers moved from the booth seat next to him to cover your hand that rested on his thigh, slowly inching it up his pant leg. “I’ll take him home,” you said, glancing back to Matt. “I’ll let you know when he’s home, okay?”

Matt gave Harry another look, and then nodded, obviously trusting you to take care of his friend. “Let me know if you need anything.” With that, he turned away, waving to Lucy and giving Mike a slap on the back on his way out.

Your attention turned back to Harry, who had somehow slid closer to you on the seat. “What was all that talk about lingerie, hmm?” He asked, the hand that rested next to your shoulder moving to rub the top of your arm, heat surging through your veins at his touch. “You always chew me out for sayin’ shit to you, and then you go and say that. In front of my friends, no less.”

You drummed your fingers on his inner thigh and caught the way he swallowed thickly at the feeling. “I wanted to see what you’d say, I guess.”

“And?”

“I now know you’ve never seen a babydoll. Or nearly enough lingerie.”

He sucked in a breath and then leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “Is that your way of asking me if I’d like to see your collection?”

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as he grazed your hair with his nose, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He had your insides moving in circles like they were on a merry-go-round, consumed in nothing but him. Slowly, you lifted your leg closest to his so it hooked over his knee, tugging yourself closer to him. “Perhaps.”

Under the low lights of the bar, the green of his eyes twinkled at you, your coyness making him grab at your knee, kneading his thumb into your skin over your jeans. “You told Matt you’d take me home.”

“I did.”

“What’s the likelihood we could change the destination on that ride home?”

Your hand moved from his thigh to his torso, skittering over his shirt and tucking against his exposed skin, his butterfly tattoo flexing under your touch. “I could be convinced. What did you have in mind?”

“Your place,” he said, hand squeezing your knee tightly when you scratched his skin softly. “Fuck, Y/N.”

“You’re drunk,” you told him simply.

With a combination of tenderness and need that had you desperate for him, he nudged your temple with his nose and said, “I won’t be in the morning.”

“Is that right?” The feeling of his breath in your ear made you grab at his side, pulling at his skin with your hand, wanting just to feel him in some way. You were sober and yet he had you feeling drunk, drunk on need and desire. “Then come on, Birthday Princess.”

The wood of your front door slammed against your back the second you shut the door behind you, Harry’s body pinning you to the door. His hands tugged on your hips and your hands were in his hair and the sounds falling from your mouth were positively sinful. The way he pulled on your bottom lip and sucked on it, making you press up into his body, hands tugging at his shirt, how his hands fell to your ass and squeezed, you squeaking into his mouth. How he lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hips, allowing your centers to meet, and he shakily exhaled. It was consuming, kissing Harry, trying to keep track of what he was doing and then finally giving up and just losing yourself in him, in the way he touched you and made your entire body erupt in flames.

“Jump,” he said, pulling at your other thigh and you did so immediately, not even wasting a beat before hooking your ankles around his hips and letting him grind into you.

You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of the friction from your jeans meeting and rubbing into you, and from the way his breath caught, you knew he was just as affected as you were. His necklace swung on its chain as he pulled away and sucked a line of kisses down your neck, just as you had thought about doing to him earlier. When he prodded at your pulse point with his teeth and then licked over the spot you tugged on his hair, his name a broken whimper on your lips.

Hands met skin, both of you needing more and more. You pushed at his shirt, the predominantly unbuttoned garment falling easily from his shoulders and pooling at his elbows. The fresh skin served as an opportunity, and you took it, bending your head and licking across his collarbones, his head tipping back at the feeling. You sucked a mark onto the protruding bone, right over the wing of one of his swallows, and blew on it when you were done, Harry hissing above you.

From the way his fingers were digging into your jeans and you were panting in his hold, you knew that if you didn’t slow things down they were going to get out of hand—and quickly. So you lightly pushed at his shoulders, his gaze bouncing up to your eyes. “We should stop,” you mumbled, sucking in air finally. “Just—just sleep for now. Yeah?”

“‘m feeling more sober now,” he said, diving back into your neck, but you pulled on his hair, hauling him away.

“I had to literally help you walk to my car.”

He pouted at you. “That was a weak moment.”

But you shook your head at him, having none of it. “I want you at full capacity,” you told him, and his jaw dropped slightly, just enough to part his lips and you to press a finger into the space. His teeth tugged on your nail and finger pad, eyes on yours. “Want you fully sober so I can see what I’ve been waiting for.” Then you dropped your finger from his lips and ran it along his jawline, watching his eyes try to take in every one of your motions. “Plus, I want you to be able to remember my lingerie collection when I model it for you.”

When Harry groaned, it was deep and unrestrained, a demand from the most feral part of him. His head dropped to your chest and you pushed through his locks, his panting breath on your skin through your bodysuit. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep with that image running through my head.”

You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed down on them so you could unhook your ankles and drop to the floor. “I think you’ll manage. Now, c’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

His fingers threaded through yours as you pulled him through your apartment, thankful Rhea was spending the night at her boyfriend’s so she wouldn’t be awoken from the giggles that left your mouth when Harry tripped over your shoes and the corner of your bookcase in the living room. You led him to your bedroom and left the door open, walking over to your dresser, kicking off your booties on your way. “Are you going to take this off?” His fingers graced over the top of your shoulder and you inhaled sharply.

“Yes.” You unhooked your hoop earrings and dropped them into your jewelry box. “Is that a problem?”

“Slightly,” he answered, fingers trailing down your arm. “I was hoping to do that myself.”

You turned around so he was facing you, eyes blown out in desire and cheeks flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed that night. “Then do it.”

His tongue darted out quickly, licking the center of his lips, and then he smiled at you, a boyish look of delight. “Is this my birthday gift?” Fingers brushed the top of your jeans and you nodded. “Goddamn, aren’t I lucky.” He popped the button and drew your zipper down, eyes fluttering to yours to make sure you were okay as he moved his hands to your hips, pushing the material down. “Holy fuck,” he suddenly breathed out and you glanced down.

The tattoo on your left hip had caught his attention, his palm resting just above where it started, his eyes trained on the ink on your skin. “What? You’ve got plenty of them.”

A chuckle left his mouth, and then he just shook his head. “You keep on surprising me.” His fingers crept down your skin, brushing against the chrysanthemums that covered from where your bodysuit sat on the rise of your hips to a bit down your thigh. “Does it mean anything?”

You nodded slowly. “It was my grandmother’s favorite flower.”

He must have noticed your word choice, because he quietly said, “I’m sorry,” before bending down and kissing over your tattoo. You inhaled sharply and watched as he tugged your jeans the rest of the way down your legs. Once you’d stepped out of them, he rose back to full height. “Can I take this thing off?” He asked, pulling softly on the hem of your bodysuit.

“Yes.”

“Snaps, hmm?” He ducked his head and you widened your legs enough for him to be able to tuck his hand between your legs. The pads of his fingers brushed over your clit and you couldn’t help the whimper that felt from your lips, the sound of it making Harry smile. “I can feel you.” He pressed lightly to your center through the two layers of material and you gripped the dresser you were leaning against.

You hadn’t been this wet, this in need of someone in such an all consuming way, in ages. Most people would have probably been embarrassed, but you just nodded, affirming his statement. Yes, you were wet, and yes it was all for him.

In a flourish, he gripped your bodysuit where the snaps laid and pulled, the sound of the fastenings coming undone cascading through your silent room. “Convenient,” he muttered to himself. Then, his hands pushed the mesh fabric up, revealing your black lace thong and the stretch of your bare stomach. “You know,” he said, squeezing at the curve of your torso, “I quite liked this thing. All that mesh. Could see your bra all night and it drove me fucking crazy just having to watch and not be able to touch you.”

When he pushed it above your breasts, revealing your lacy bralette, you lifted your arms and let him pull it over your head, the fabric falling to the ground. “Well, now you can,” you informed him.

The gaze he fixed you made your skin tingle. Without another beat, his hands were on your breasts, fingers brushing across your skin and then dipping into the material. With your breasts exposed, he whispered your name, forgotten on his tongue when he leaned in and fastened his lips to your nipple, the skin hardening immediately from the wetness on his tongue.

Curses left your mouth in a string, hands tugging on his hair as he prodded at your skin. He didn’t linger there though, seeming to be too focused on the greater task, because he lifted his head from your chest after a minute or so. And then his hands were at your back, unhooking your bralette and pulling it from your body, revealing your nearly fully naked body to him. His thumbs brushed over the solar system tattooed on your ribcage and you shuddered at the feeling.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, eyes taking you in. “Good god.”

The heat that rushed to your cheeks you couldn’t stop, so instead you distracted yourself with teasing him. “Take your shirt off.” His eyebrows raised, but he followed your directions, unbuttoning the final button and pulling the material off of his shoulders. As he was about to drop it to the ground you stopped him, taking the fabric in your hands. He watched in fascination as you pulled it over your shoulders, buttoned the middle two buttons, and then looked up at him. The shirt covered most of your ass, the tops of your thighs and your tattoo exposed.

“Like my shirt, huh?”

You nodded, and then decided it was your turn to touch his skin. Your hands criss-crossed across his exposed chest, brushing across the marks you had left and down, tracing his nipples until they pebbled, and then down to the laurels on his pelvis, barely peeking out from the top of his jeans. Then, you popped the button on his jeans, and when he didn’t stop you, you pushed them down his legs, struggling a bit with how tight they were, but succeeding finally. He was left in nothing but his briefs, a lion tattoo on his thigh exposed to your eyes and some small ink on his knees you thought was cute. You wondered how drunk he was when he did it, but decided not to ask.

“What happened to getting ready for bed?” He asked, hands running up and down your arms.

“We’re dressed for bed, aren’t we?” You turned around though, and led him out of your room and down the hall to where the bathroom was. “Go ahead—I’m going to get us some water. Use anything you want, except my toothbrush. There’s spares under the sink.”

You left him to his own devices and made your way through your apartment, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water, tucking a bottle of ibuprofen under your arm. He would need it in the morning. After leaving them on your bedside table, you headed for the bathroom where the door was open, Harry brushing his teeth at the sink. You slid in next to him and he moved to the side, allowing you to grab your face wash and splash water on your face, swiping the liquid in circles over your skin. After your moisturizer and eye cream, you started brushing your teeth, trying not to focus on how Harry was just leaning against the wall watching you.

“You good over there?” You asked, spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush before dropping it into the jar on the sink that held them.

He nodded. “This is going to sound weird,” he said, “but I feel…comfortable with you. Like this kind of shit,” he gestured to the bathroom, “I’ve never done this.”

“Brushed your teeth?”

“No,” he grumbled, grabbing for your hips. “I don’t usually get ready for bed when I spend the night with girls.”

You tried not to read into that statement, to wonder if you were some normal hookup or something more. Instead, you leaned in and pecked his lips, before tugging him out of the bathroom and towards your room. “Water’s on the table,” you told him, shutting the door behind you as you stepped inside. “And some ibuprofen, if you want it.”

He walked over to the opposite side of the bed and gulped down the water, tossing some of the medicine on his tongue and finishing off the water. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” you answered, and then pulled back the covers on your bed. You settled in between the sheets, and watched as Harry slid in beside you, obviously trying to gauge what you wanted. Once he was comfortable, you shuffled towards him, and without thinking too much into it, you rested your head on his chest. He immediately brought his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Night,” you mumbled.

“Night, Y/N.” His voice was gravelly from exhaustion and alcohol, and you shut your eyes, falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

You blinked, eyelids heavy from exhaustion, as you woke up. Sunlight was streaming in your curtains, which despite being blackout curtains, could do little to hold back at the sun in the morning. As you gathered your senses, you realized that the other side of your bed was empty. Picking up your head, you took inventory of the room—Harry’s boots on the floor, your clothes haphazardly tossed in your laundry basket, your phone charging on your bedside table and a full water glass sitting there.

You had finished yours last night, if you remembered correctly. But you shrugged and grabbed the water, chugging it as you unplugged your phone and checked the time. It was noon, which was the normal time you woke up after a shift, meaning you’d had somewhere between seven and eight hours of sleep. You could’ve slept for hours, but what was more urgent than a couple more hours of sleep was where Harry had run off to. Slowly you pulled yourself up, Harry’s shirt still adorning your body, and walked out of your room and into the hallway, where the smell of coffee hit your nose immediately.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Harry said when you walked into the open plan kitchen and living room. He was sitting at the bar that divided the room in half, a cup of coffee in his hand and a bottle of Pedialyte on the counter next to him. “I’m glad you found the water. I was getting pretty close to waking you up.”

“Thanks for that,” you said, raising the glass to him. You meandered past him into the kitchen, where you grabbed a coffee cup—this one was from a National Park you’d visited the summer before with your family—and filled it with coffee. “How long have you been up?”

“Two hours,” he answered. “I have a hard time sleeping after a big night out.”

“Pedialyte?” You asked, nodding to the bottle on the counter.

He grimaced and set down his cup. “Yeah. I went out and got it while you were asleep.”

Sun was streaming in the white curtains in the living room, casting the whole apartment in a bright mid-day glow. Harry was in just his jeans, no shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had worn out. “Did you wear that out?”

He glanced down at himself. “Yeah. Stole one of your big sweatshirts, too.”

“Did you now?” You shifted away from the counter, rounding the counter so you stood in front of him. “Which one?”

Green eyes followed your hand as it landed on his knee, moving it away from the other one to create space. When you took a step forward, you could hear his breath hitch and gave him a coy smile, your free hand sliding up his thigh. “Your green one. Said Obsession on it, or something—it was the only one that fit me.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s my ex’s.”

He huffed. “S’mine, now.”

“Is it now?” You asked, setting your cup on the counter next to Harry’s. “Planning on taking over for him?”

“As an ex?”

You shook your head, hands drifting up his torso. “As the guy who gets to wear my clothes.” You tried not to think about what those words meant, what you were asking him, because your mind was too wrapped up in him to even be thinking about your intent.

“Happily.” His hands finally landed on your waist, ring-clad fingers pressing into the skin covered by his shirt. “You know, you look good in this.” Fingers slipped under the material of his shirt, the white Styles on the chest stretching over your breast as you breathed.

“It’s black,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing even. “Everyone would look in it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kneading your sides. “Dunno about that.”

Both your hands and Harry’s explored each other’s skin, taking inventory of every rise and fall, roll of skin, the places that made each other gasp just a bit. It felt good, being this intimate with someone just like this, nothing but one another’s hands. “Then what’s so special about me wearing it?”

Palms cupped your breasts, squeezing delicately, his full forearms tucked underneath the fabric of his shirt. “That you’re the one in it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “You, wearing my shirt, my last name on your chest.” He blew out a breath and you tweaked one of his nipples in reply. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re a dream.”

“How about we move this to my bedroom,” you said, slipping your hands up to his shoulders. “And I finally show you my lingerie collection?” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He was standing, your hand in his, and pulling you in the direction of your room immediately, a giggle leaving your lips at the sudden movement. “Somebody’s eager.”

“You’ve been talking about this lingerie for like twelve hours, love,” he said, shutting your door behind you. “I fuckin’ dreamed about it.”

You pulled out of his grasp and he fell down to your bed, where the sheets were twisted from sleep. His messy long hair and shirtless torso drew in your gaze, the way he leaned against your pillows, watching you. “Did you now?” You turned to your dresser and pulled out your top drawer, where your lingerie lived. “Close your eyes,” you told him, peeking back at where he laid.

Once he followed your instructions, grumbling about missing out on half the show, you pulled out your first item—a dark blue babydoll, lace appliqué covering the skirt and a bow nestled between the molded cups, a matching g-string that you slid over your hips. You fluffed your hair, suddenly wishing you had had the forethought to wash your face before you took on this endeavor.

“Open,” you told Harry, and turned in his direction.

“Holy fuck,” he said in one breath, sitting up immediately, as if a jolt of electricity had ripped through his body. “Is this a babydoll?”

“Good memory,” you replied, leaning against your dresser. You didn’t know what to do with your body other than just stand there and let his eyes trail over you. “Thoughts?”

“How would you feel about never wearing clothes again?” He asked, gnawing at his lip. “Just that.”

You blushed, and picked at the hem of it. “I think I might get cold.”

“I’ll give you a jacket.”

“How kind.” You turned around and when he whined, you turned just your head to him. “There’s more sets to show you, you know. Close those eyes, mister.” He did as you asked and you pulled off the lingerie, lovingly folding it back into your dresser. Your fingers ran over the lace in front of you, trying to decide which one of your, admittedly many, sets you wanted to show him next. Finally, you settled on a pink lace set that was essentially see-through. You’d never worn it before—it was one of your newer purchases, one you’d chosen after a successful test grade.

You pulled up the panties and hooked the bra behind your back, sliding the straps up your arms until they settled comfortably on the dip of your shoulders. Then, you turned and at the sight of Harry sitting there, patiently waiting, you decided to reward him a bit. You walked towards him, and when you reached his form, you settled your hands on his shoulders. The touch made his eyes flutter open, and the second he saw your body his eyes widened. “Wow,” was all he could say as he studied the material covering your skin.

“What do you think?” The more his eyes lingered on you, the more you loved how you burned under his gaze.

He licked his lips and reached out, thumbing across the top of the lace thong you wore. “How is this one even better?”

You tilted your head to the side and pressed closer to him, his palms falling down your sides as you stepped between his knees. “You’re the first person to see this one.”

“Really?” He seemed like a kid in a candy store after being told he could buy whatever he wanted. “I’m honored.” You pulled away from his grasp and he groaned, snatching your hips back between his hands. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got more to show you,” you informed him, pulling his hands off of you. “Patience, Styles.”

“Baby,” he rasped, the pet name falling from his mouth with ease, and you wondered if you would ever forget how it sounded. “I don’t know if I can survive much more.”

Your eyes fell to his pants, where you could see his hard-on, the outline of his dick straining against the tight denim. “Somebody’s desperate.”

“Tease,” he shot back. “I’m serious, though. I’ll let you finish later.”

You considered his proposal, but ended up pulling away. “One more. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

He groaned, but nodded, shutting his eyes obediently as you moved away from him. At your dresser, you found the set you were looking for, a dark green set. The bra was a balconette cut, lace appliqué covering the cups and running up the straps. You pulled on the suspender belt that matched, the straps dangling down your legs as you put on the thong next. Then, you grabbed a pair of black stockings and clipped them to the bottom of the suspenders. You fluffed your hair a bit and then turned back around.

“Open,” you instructed and when Harry’s eyes opened the moan that left his mouth ran down your spine like fire.

“Fuck.” The word was all he could say, his jaw literally dropping at the sight of you standing there. “Come here.” You didn’t move, though, wanting to hear him beg for you. This set had your confidence soaring through the roof, the combination of the material on your skin and Harry’s gaze making you want to see what you could make him do for you. “Please,” he finally said, shifting towards you.

So you walked over to him, slowly, keeping your shoulders back so the bra strained across your chest. When you reached him you placed a hand on his bare chest, pressing him slightly back so he rested on his hands, eyes staring up at you as you rested a knee on either side of his thighs, sitting down on his lap. “Worth the wait?”

His hands immediately moved, settling on your hips, sliding over the green lace. “You’re going to kill me,” he rasped, words rough in his throat. The sight of his pupils blown out in desire, chest rising and falling under your palm as he took in your body in this set made you grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips towards yours.

The two of you met in a blaze of fire, need flowing between you as he tugged you closer, your center brushing over the denim of his jeans. When you whimpered he suckled on your lip and you pulled at the roots of his hair, needing to hear him groan into your mouth. You wanted to hear every one of his sounds, to take inventory of him and store it away for later when he wasn’t right there in front of you. Lips met and parted, slotting together with ease as you both surged towards one another, begging for more.

His hands were covering every inch of you, pulling and grabbing and scratching at your skin, somehow bringing you closer and closer to him. When you began to rock against his jeans he let out a hiss, pulling your hips down onto his even more. Then his head dipped, nudging up your chin as he found your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin before licking along his marks, leaving you a whining mess in his lap. You were cradling his head, not wanting it to end, just to make him continue and continue and continue.

Now that you had him, you realized how long you had been waiting for this, even if you pretended like you weren’t. You had wanted him since the first time he made a bad joke and told you you looked beautiful, when he responded with a quick remark, countering your sass with plenty of his own. He met you tit for tat, ebbing and flowing with you like waves on a beach.

Your fingers wound around his cross necklace and tugged, just enough to get his lips to leave your skin and look up at you. “Tryin’ to get my attention?” He teased, squeezing at your waist, tight enough that he would probably leave marks but you didn’t mind. In fact, you looked forward to inspecting each inch of your body and seeing what he had left behind.

“Your jeans,” you mumbled. “I want them off.”

He chuckled lightly. “Now who’s the desperate one?”

“Shut up,” you said and he just smiled at you, his dimples poking out.

“Go on, then.” He watched as you slid back on his thighs and popped the button on his jeans, before getting up so you could pull them all the way off. Once they were on the ground, you moved towards him, but he stopped you. “Lay down for me, love,” he said, eyes trailing down your body as you stood in front of him.

You didn’t bother with sass, just falling to the twisted sheets and looking at him as he crawled towards you. His fingers found the clips of your suspenders, and you nodded at him, giving him silent permission to begin to undress you. When he released the stockings and began to pull them down, he kissed every inch of your revealed skin, creating a line down your calf that had your breath coming out in pants. “Harry,” you said, the last syllable of his name trailing off as he did the same thing to your other leg.

“Yes?” He asked, eyes popping up to you. His hair was a mess from your hands and you loved it—the sight of him with wide eyes and puffy dark pink lips, color in his cheeks and marks on his chest from your nails. When you didn’t respond, unable to even create words as he slipped his hands up your body and tugged down the suspender belt that sat at your waist, he said, “You’re going to have to speak up if you’ve got something to say, baby.”

That pet name. It was going to be the death of you and you had no idea why. Maybe because of the emotions swirling in your chest as you looked down at him, the way you wanted to simultaneously lie in his arms for hours and jump his bones, but also just hold his hand and hear him talk to you. Perhaps it was the fact that no one had ever called you that like he did, with desire and passion laced in the word, a tenderness and an edge to it that made you weak in the knees. ���I need you,” you finally uttered.

“Do you now,” he responded, leaning forward on his knees so he hovered over you. “Can you be more specific?” Impatient, you grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers to your center, where you had soaked through your thong long ago. A low groan fell from his chest at the feeling of your wetness, and he peeked up at you from where he was touching you. “You’re soaked through,” he said in awe, brushing against your center and making your back arch up. “Fuck, Y/N. Is this for me? Did I get you like this?”

“Yes,” you drawled, pushing down onto his finger. Your mind was spinning, eyes fluttering shut and just losing yourself in the feeling of finally having contact where you needed him most. “Please,” you begged finally, rocking against him with your hips, chasing more.

Harry moved without pause, pulling your underwear down your legs and running his finger between your folds. The feeling of his touch on your warm flesh had you squirming, his name mixed in with curses as he rubbed softly in a circle. “That feel good?” He asked and you could feel his eyes traveling over your body even though your eyes were squeezed shut from the feeling. When he brushed his index finger against your hole which was dripping for him, you gasped, hips jutting down against him so the tip of his finger brushed inside of you. “God, you’re so wet,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Then, he dipped a finger inside of you and you cried out, desperate and needy for him, unable to contain the sounds falling your lips as he built up a momentum, curling his finger inside of you and hitting your sweet spot. “Another,” you said, eyes finally opening so you could see him.

And the sight didn’t disappoint. His eyes were on your center, watching his finger move in and out of you, and you could see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, a small wet spot where his tip was. The fact that he was leaking while fingering you somehow just added to your pleasure. He added a second finger and pressed them deep inside of you, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your entrance and making you buck up against his fingers. You were squirming on the bed, unable to stay still because he was building an orgasm inside of you like no one else ever had. You could feel your belly tightening and your high was rising, sweat beads forming at the back of your neck.

When he rubbed on your front wall you let out a helpless cry. He had found the spot that made you go insane and you could tell he was happy, a smile stretching across his face. “I’m close,” you panted.

“What do you need?” His words were low and they just made you want him more.

“Your mouth.” The words were broken, but he seemed to understand because he shifted immediately, falling to his stomach between your legs and pulling you towards him. He decided to go harder, because he slammed his fingers into you at a brutal pace and matched it by licking at your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive skin. His tongue was sin against your skin, circling your clit and making you cry out. You dug your fingers into his hair and tugged at the strands, his name tumbling from your lips in a beg and a whine and a prayer all in one.

It didn’t take long before you were coming, the feeling rushing up without you even realizing, your back arching and hips bucking against his fingers and mouth. He lapped at you through it, eyes open and watching your orgasm, the shudder that left your mouth and how you fell into the mattress when you came down. When he pulled his fingers from you, you hissed, and he just kissed your pelvic bone, before sitting back on his heels and dipping his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits that were covered in your juices.

“Get over here,” you demanded, hooking your foot around his hips and pulling him towards you.

He clamored over you, his lips finding yours once again, and you sighed into the kiss, pulling his mouth closer to you. You needed him like you had never needed anyone else, a feeling that took over your body and ran your mind. When his head dipped and he tugged on your earlobe you whined. “Can I have you,” he asked into your skin. “Please? I waited and I just…fuck, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes,” you told him, hands falling to his waist and pushing down his briefs. “Condoms are in my bedside table.”

His head bounced up at that and he reached over, wrenching open the drawer and searching blindly for a packet. When his fingers found one he moved back over you, the foil falling next to your head. Then, he pushed his briefs the rest of the way down his legs, letting the material fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Next was your bra, his hands moving to your back and deftly unhooking it, pulling the lace from your skin. “Beautiful,” he hummed, nestling his face between your breasts.

You chuckled, brushing his hair back. “I swear, boys and boobs,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, picking up his head. “Don’t make me out to be some horny teenager.”

“Aren’t you?” You teased, picking up the condom between your fingers.

“No.” He took the packet and ripped it open with his teeth. “I’m twenty-one, baby.” Then, he rolled the condom down his length and you watched, absorbing his fully naked body for the first time. The cut of the muscles under his skin, the way his tattoos stretched across his torso, the full length of him that you decided you wanted in your mouth after.

He brushed his tip against your slit and you whined unabashedly, rocking towards him. “H,” you mumbled, “please.” That was all he needed, because without another pause he was pressing into you, bottoming out in one go. You let out an unrestrained moan, grappling at his shoulders as he sunk onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours. As he pulled out and pushed back in, a groan from his lips filling the space between you, you watched his face. The way his eyebrows pulled together and he bent his head, resting his forehead against your collarbone as he found his rhythm.

Once he did, it was heaven. His sweaty skin meeting yours as he drove into you at a brutal pace, but one that felt fucking incredible. Your ankles hooked around his hips and held him close inside of you, and you tugged on his necklace to pull his lips to yours, needing the softness of his tongue inside your mouth again. Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking on his strands when he pushed in particularly hard, and he groaned. He liked his hair being pulled, you discovered, and you decided to keep at it, threading your hands through his locks and pulling whenever he hit that spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Like that,” you rasped when he latched his lips to your neck, most definitely leaving a mark on your skin. “Yes, H, just like that. Fuck, you’re so deep.” Your words were a mess, just a stream of consciousness, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he slammed into you harder and pulled your leg higher, tugging it so that your foot rested over his shoulder and your hamstrings stretched. And when he pushed back in, you scrambled at his back, drawing harsh lines down his skin at the feeling of him reaching a new depth.

“Feel so good,” he mumbled, words broken as they spilled from his lips. “Y/N, god, so good.” His hands fisted in the sheets and you dug your nails into his shoulders when he swiveled his hips slightly, brushing every inch of you. When you squeezed him, his head tipped back, exposing his neck and you leaned up, ignoring the burn in your hamstring, and licked up his throat. He rasped your name as you pulled at the skin at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, making a mark of your own for him to enjoy later.

You fell back down and slipped your leg from its spot on his shoulder, and pulled him close to you, wanting to kiss him again. His lips seemed to be your new obsession, wanting nothing more than to be touching them constantly. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it, slotting your lips between his and kissing you fiercely as he pistoned in and out of you.

There were going to be bruises on your inner thighs, you were sure of it. You would be feeling the impact of his hips on your thighs for days, every time you sat down the muscles would ache and you would remember this—him moving in and out of you and panting in your ear, mumbling about how good you felt around him, how gorgeous you were, how much he loved fucking you. The prospect of feeling him for days was one you looked forward to.

When he gave a particularly deep thrust you moved up on the sheets, grabbing hold of his neck to hold yourself steady, and he moaned. You peeked down at him and as he moved back in, you asked, “Did you like that?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a broken confirmation. “Again, please.”

You’d never really done this before, so you decided to be careful with him, just a bit of pressure using your fingers. With four fingers on one side of his neck and your thumb on the other, halfway down his neck, you pressed down on his skin when he drove back into you and his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. The heel of your palm rested on the hollow of his neck as your fingers squeezed on either side of his neck, watching in rapture as he fucked into you harder and leaned into your touch. Slowly, you loosened and then tightened your grip, changing it up to make sure he was getting enough air.

“Is that good?” You asked, trying to focus as he drove harshly into you, the sound of his hips slapping your skin filling the room. He bobbed his head and pressed into your palm, so you squeezed your fingers again, wanting to give him what he asked for.

“I’m close,” he said, voice husky.

“Me too,” you answered, kicking your heels higher around his waist and pressing up into him so he reached even deeper inside of you. You could feel that same high building inside of you, an intensity waiting on the brink as he pressed into you, your fingers pressing into his throat again and again.

Then he pulled away slightly, rising up so his arms were fully extended and you couldn’t quite choke him anymore, so your hand fell to his bicep, squeezing at his skin as he somehow moved both faster and deeper inside of you. His hands dug into the sheets and he drove in and out of you at a pace unmatched, your head falling back to the mattress. You were panting, eyes glued to the sight of his necklace swinging back and forth as he moved, the tension in his muscles and the sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

You couldn’t take it anymore, and reached down between you two, rubbing your fingers over your clit because you were just seconds from the edge and you needed it. Harry’s eyes took in the sight in awe, and his jaw dropped slightly, a curse ripping through his throat as you clenched around him and threw back your head, a deep moan falling through the air. You were squirming underneath him, Harry’s hands having to hold onto your torso to keep you steady as he thrusted into you, finishing himself off as you came, tightening around him. His name left your lips in a beg and he picked up your hand, bringing it back to his throat.  

With a tight squeeze, your fingers wrapped around his throat like before, he bucked into you once more and then was practically growling as he emptied himself into the condom, body shaking against you. You unwrapped your hand from his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, before pulling him down to your chest, wanting him close as he pulled out of you. “Holy shit,” he mumbled into your shoulder, and you laughed softly.

“You ever had someone choke you before?” You asked, brushing your fingers up and down his spine as he settled.

“No,” he said, his lips puckering against your throat, light kisses to your skin. “Kind of liked it, though.”

“Kind of?” You squeezed his butt cheek in jest, and he squeaked against you, making you fully laugh, body rumbling against him. “You literally picked up my hand and put it there.”

He tucked his face deeper into your neck and you could tell he was embarrassed. “Okay fine, I really liked it.”

You hummed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I did too. It was my first time doing that.”

“Yeah?” He picked up his head and propped it up on his palm, looking at you. “Was it okay?”

Pushing back the hair from his forehead, you nodded. “I thought it was really hot.”

A smile quirked up on his lips. “You mean you think I’m really hot.”

You whacked his shoulder and he feigned pain, jaw dropping slightly. “Stop fishing for compliments.” He rolled his eyes at you, but moved off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the trash. Red marks covered his back from your nails and you ran your hand over them, watching as he shivered from the sensitivity. “If anyone sees your back they’re going to think you got fucking mauled by a bear.”

He turned his head and raised his eyebrow at you. “A bear, huh? I thought it was just this really hot girl.”

“Good to know you think I’m hot too.” He laughed and turned fully around, crawling back into bed with you.

The sheets were sweaty but you didn’t mind, you just wanted to be close to him. He laid down on his back and pulled you in, your leg draping over his and your breasts pushing up against his side. Your head rested on his shoulder and you let out a breath, relaxing into his hold.

After you’d been lying there for a few minutes, he cleared his throat and you looked up at him. “You know,” he said, “I don’t know if this was obvious, but I really like you.”

His ring-clad fingers trailed up your back, drawing circles against your skin. You considered his words, rolling them over in your head, and considered your own feelings. Where did you stand? You knew you liked him based on how you felt around him, this just constant desire to have his hands on you. The way you could joke around with him and the banter between you made you feel at ease, a kind of comfort with him that you hadn’t found with anyone else. He was gorgeous and kind and a bit of an idiot, but you found it endearing. You also, admittedly, loved how obsessed he was with you. “I like you too,” you replied, turning your head so you could fully look at him, your chin resting on his chest.

He looked down at you, sliding his forearm under his head. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, kissing the skin nearest to you. “Really like you, even.”

“Well thank god,” he said, pinching your skin slightly. “It would’ve been really awkward if you didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

He smiled at you. “I might’ve introduced myself as your boyfriend to your doorman.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed up, moving so you could hover over him fully, hands on either side of his head. “Does this mean I have to go to all of your formals and shit with you?”

“Obviously,” he replied, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “And my drinks at 260 are going to be free.” You huffed at his request for you to make all his drinks at the bar you worked at to be free, but Harry was having none of it. “Come on, baby, I’ll come to every one of your shifts.”

“Fine,” you answered, sliding your knees up his sides so you could sit squarely over the laurels on his pelvis. “But you have to bring me a snack.”

“Oh,” he said, quirking up his lips in a smirk, “baby I’m a full meal.” You swatted at his chest and he laughed, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, before tugging you back into him. You fell into him with ease, unable to hold up any walls to him anymore. Somehow, he had busted through each one of them and you didn’t want to rebuild them. Having him wrapped up in your heart was perfectly fine with you, you thought to yourself when he kissed the top of your head and asked if you wanted pancakes.

Yeah, you decided, you could get used to this.

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for bartender!y/n!!!!

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #college au #college harry styles #harry styles #fratboy harry #frat boy au #fratboy!harry #frat boy fan fiction #fratboy!harry fan fiction #bartender!y/n

[cyla]

Can I request a 100 follower special thing alphabet with Inumaki?? Love your work btw ❤❤

Yandere Alphabet with Inumaki

Warnings: yandere, suicide, delusional, death, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking

Thank you so much for requesting!! Please people request more alphabets they're so fun pls!! Anyway I love Inumaki hes so cute!!

Affection - How do they show their love and affection? How intense will it get?

Inumaki shows his love by being as close as humanly possible to his darling. I think physical contact is his love language and he is definitely gonna show it. And it would get pretty intense. Inumaki really really loves his darling and he wants them to know.

Blood - How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He is willing to kill anyone that isn't his darling or himself. He would try his best to hide this from his darling though, as he wants them to love him back. But if they found out, he'd just insist that it was for love and that there was nothing wrong with it.

Cruelty - How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Inumaki will worship them. He is one dedicated yandere and he will worship them with all his mind, body, and soul. He will absolutely not mock them. He understands that his darling may be a bit uncomfortable as first, so he goes easy on them at first. But he is also one of the most delusional yanderes, so he might not understand if his darling doesn't get over their fears of him soon.

Darling - Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darlings will?

Mostly likely physical contact. He is a very clingy and touchy yandere and he doesn't really care that you don't like touching him. Or he just thinks your a bit shy.

Exposed - How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

All of it. He isn't afraid to cry in front of his darling. He is so so delusional he already thinks you love him and nothing you can do or say can change his mind. He wants you to know how much he loves you, so you will get to see every emotion from him.

Fight - How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would trick himself into thinking that his darling might just be a little scared or shy. He knows they love him!! He has done so much for his darling how could they not love him!! He would totally ignore their protests. It's okay!! Inumaki understands his darling is just shy, and that's okay!!

Game - Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No absolutely not. True love is not a game. He would hate watching his darling try to escape. He didn't know his darling was that shy!! That's okay, he just need to take his darling back and love them more!! So they know just how much he loves them!!

Hell - What would be their darlings worst experience with them?

I don't think there would be one specific event, it would kinda build up over time. But probably the first punishment was the hardest. He was unpredictable and he could snap at the tiniest of things but also overlook the biggest of things.

Ideals - What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He wants to stay with his darling forever. He intends to start a family with his darling and live happily ever after. It's true love after all!!

Jealously - Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Inumaki does get jealous but he tries his best not to lash out on his darling. Even if his darling tried to make him jealous. His darling is the light of his life, and they would never do that!! He does definitely lash out at the person though. Very violently too.

Kisses - How do they act around or with their darling?

Clingy. Baby. He needs to be touching his darling all the time!! 24/7!! How else would he know 100% if his darling was okay?? His darling should expect a lot of random kiss attacks, and tickle attacks.

Love Letters - How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Inumaki already knows his darling loves him back, so why would he try to win them if he already has them? The first time he meets his darling, he will waste no time in kidnapping them to make sure they stay by his side and are okay.

Mask - Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. Inumaki to his darling, is delusional and absolutely terrifying. He will definitely use his cursed speech against his darling. But to everyone else, he's smart, cool, calm and collected. None of his friends would take him to be the delusional type, he's too self-aware for that.

Naughty - How would they punish their darling?

He would mostly isolate his darling. Locking them up for weeks on end and only visiting them two or three times a day, and only to give them food and water. He would try to do other physical punishments, but he absolutely hates it. The first time he tried it started crying and sobbing. But if his darling makes him really mad, he just might not feel any guilt at all as he litters his darling with cuts and broken bones.

Oppression - How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Mostly their freedom. With him, his darling has basically no independence at all. Yandere Inumaki gets jealous and to combat that, he traps his darling away all safe and sound. He will try to be patient will his darling and not take away too many rights, but if they take his generosity for granted and take too long warming up to him, he might just have to force his darling.

Patience - How patient are they with their darling?

At first, quite patient. He understands that his darling could be a little upset, but that doesn't mean that they ignore him completely!! He needs affection!!! If his darling doesn't start to warm up to him early on, he will force them.

Quit - If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No. He is such a lovesick, delusional yandere. If his darling dies, he will visit their grave everyday and will bring fresh flowers to replace yesterdays. He will trick himself into believing that their ghost is watching over him and he'll look for 'signs' sent from his darling to him from heaven. If his darling escapes, he will not stop once he has found them. Not until the day he dies.

Regret - Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Definitely feel guilty. Especially about forcing himself into his darling in sex. But he will always quickly push that guilt aside. Tricking himself into believing it is for the good of both him and his darling. But he would never let his darling go.

Stigma - What brought this side of them?

Because of his limited speech, if his darling is both kind and patient, that is something that gets him going. I don't have an idea as to exactly how his obsession started, but if his darling is patient with him regarding his communication, that is a big green flag for him.

Tears - How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Absolutely terrible. He hates seeing his darling hurting!! Mentally or physically!!! If his darling is crying hard enough, he'll probably start crying to. If his darling isolates themselves, he will be as patient and as cautious as possible. Sometimes, seeing his darling in pain puts him more in pain than his darling.

Unique - Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Maybe the fact that he is just so delusional. But on top of that, he absolutely lives to worship his darling. Would probably have a shrine dedicated to his darling.

Vice - What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Probably his kindness. He would be easy to exploit if his darling starts fake loving him. He would not be able to tell if his darling is playing with him or they actually love him. It probably never even crossed his mind. So if his darling starts to 'love' him and then screams and cries and puts on a show, he would probably do whatever his darling wanted.

Wit's End - Would they ever hurt their darling?

Inumaki would never hurt his darling, but he would scream and cry and yell at them. If they just refuse to let him in, and he would break, yelling and screaming as to why his darling doesn't love him. He has does everything for them!!! He gave his darling everything!!

Xoanon - How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Oh my goodness Inumaki thinks his darling is the reincarnation of some God, I swear lol. Absolutely any means necessary. He needs his darling to live, to survive, to function properly. Without his darling, he is nothing!!! They are his reason to live.

Yearn - How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He likes to be prepared before he kidnaps his darling. But he gets more desperate as days go on. He would try his best to plan some more and postpone the kidnapping, so everything will be perfect, but he can't hold it for that long. Probably 1 to 2 months.

Zenith - Would they ever break their darling?

No. He is much to cautious to do that. His darling would be more confused if anything. If he ever did (which is extremely unlikely), he would most likely kill his darling and then himself.

#anime #writing #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki toge #inumaki hcs #inumaki x y/n #jjk #anime aesthetic #tw yandere #tw suicice #tw manipulation #tw kidnapping #tw stalking #yandere #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu icons #jujutsu nobara #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu toji

[raineydays411]

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be  making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head. 

“What am I supposed to do without you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved. 

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course  he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why? 

Because she has her mothers eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming. 

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother. 

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well.  He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair. 

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months. 

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him. 

“My lord, you--” 

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth. 

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there. 

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--” 

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

***  “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter  reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?” 

“Love”  ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes. 

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of. 

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence. 

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?” 

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?” 

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting. 

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine. 

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.” 

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table. 

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!”  Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,” 

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it.  He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him. 

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part. 

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times  prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound. 

Thor walks up to him with the baby. 

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child. 

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well. 

No, this was not his child. Not anymore. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga. 

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.” 

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind  his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#loki x daughter!reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson #loki imagine #angst #fanfic #mcu loki #mcu imagine #tom hiddleston #poc #poc reader #reader insert #Loki x poc!reader

[watchmegetobsessed]

Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

 As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

 Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

  Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

 Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles flatmates au #harry styles friends to lovers

[cheelduh]

How to Not Kill a Ginger (High School Au!)

Part 5 to the series hehehe

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s stomach stirs when you take care of him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his major crush on you or just plain old diarrhea.

Warnings: Swearing. Graphic descriptions involving the true idiocy of teenage boys.

Words: Abt 2.6k

Note: Sorry I sort of half assed this. I have big ideas for the next part tho ✨😮‍💨

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Teucer knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.

Him and his brother, Anthon, under your watch, manage to get into a petty squabble that's been airing for the last fifteen minutes. You've done everything, from offering candy to promising an extra hour on the switch, but your efforts do not bear fruit.

What did you tell Childe again? Oh yeah, that babysitting kids was a breeze. Apparently it's not a breeze. Maybe something more like a shart. A chunky, messy one at that.

"Listen dude," You reason to Anthon, the oldest of the bunch gently. "Where did you hide his toy?"

Anthon sticks a tongue out at you, and you nearly cry at the intensity of the insult. "Not telling."

Your patience runs thin.

"C'mon Anthon," Tonia lectures from her chair on the table like the godsend she is. "Just give him his toy back. You're being so annoying." She's taking the words right out of your mouth.

"Not until he apologizes!" Anthon crosses his arms, huffing. "He ate my cheese string!"

"There are more cheese strings!" You exclaim, opening the fridge to prove your point. "I'm sure Teucer's sorry for taking yours. Just pick another one."

"But it's not the same! He took the last cheddar and mozzarella one, now there are only mozzarella ones left." He speaks in between Teucer's wails. You wonder if this is a daily occurrence.

Tonia sighs, gets up from her chair, and hands the eldest her cheese string. "Just take this and give him his toy back."

Almost immediately, Anthon reaches a hand behind the tv table and pulls out the miniature Mr. Cyclops, then throws it point blank at Teucer's feet.

Teucer wails louder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders sagging under the stress of being a temporary teenage mother.

Then you take a deep breathe, voice booming over Teucer's cries, Anthon's grumbling, and the clicking of Tonia's tongue. "Let's make a cake!"

Everything in the room stills. Even Teucer's loud cries comes to a halt, and he inhales so sharply that the streak of snot over his lip goes right back into its origin.

You wince inadvertently.

"Poggers!" Anthon cheers, and his siblings join in, laughing and clapping in excitement.

Tonia's eyes widen in confusion when she briefly pauses from her rally. "Wait a minute. What are we celebrating? We can't bake a cake for no reason! It won't taste nearly as good."

Everyone stops to ponder.

Then you snap your fingers in realization, and the kids huddle around you. "How about a 'get well better' cake for your big brother?"

They erupt in cheers again, but you shush them gently, wink an eye for extra measure. "We have to be quiet! He won't get better if we wake him."

The three nod in understanding and begin shushing each other, failing to conceal their giggles.

As you watch them making their way into the kitchen, bounce in their steps, you can't stop the warm smile that reaches your eyes.

That smile soon becomes a frown of horror when Anthon cracks an egg over Tonia's head.

-

The cake is not half as bad as you thought it would be initially. Between mixing the ingredients and ceasing the kids minus Tonia from being menaces to society, you were able to find middle ground.

Eventually Anthon found interest in finding ways to lick the batter whenever you turned around, and Teucer found comfort in your left leg, latching onto it as if it were a life line.

Just like how Venti latches onto his stupid little bottle of wine disguised as a water bottle. Seriously, you’ve never talked to him sober, and at this point are afraid of what’s he’s like lucid.

Tonia had been the only one taking things seriously for the most part, except for the sprinkles-to-icing ratio. She drowned the entire cake in sprinkles, the mere sight adding on the ghost of an ache in your teeth.

It looks like twilight sparkles took a fat dump on it.

"Okay besties," You inwardly curse yourself for giving into Gen-Z vocabulary as you brush your hands on the apron. "I think we've done a pretty decent job."

"It looks so pretty!" Tonia grins widely, eyeing the edible pearls she strategically placed. She quickly strikes down a finger Anthon tried to poke into the icing, with the accuracy of a true warrior.

You shudder at the thought of Childe teaching her how to stab someone with safety scissors.

"Can we add candles?" Teucer asks, but Tonia clicks her tongue in distaste.

"It's not a birthday cake." She crosses her arms judgementally. The power in her glare reminds you of La Signora, strangely enough.

You ruffle his copper coloured locks anyways, and his grip on your thigh tightens. "We can add candles if you want Teucer."

He nods his head and snuggles deeper into the side of your leg. Your heart warms up considerably.

After the candles are poked in, you try to shrug him off. "C'mon dude, just for five minutes. You don't want me to drop the cake before your brother can get a bite do you?"

Reluctantly, he obliges, and runs off to help Tonia collect utensils to take up to Childe's room.

Anthon's on door duty, kicking away any toys that serve as obstacles in your way like a professional soccer player.

Once you four make it up the stairs in front of the designated room, Anthon doesn't bother knocking. He barges in like he owns the place, chin up high and a signature smirk on his face that he probably learnt from his older brother.

Childe fumbles awake, kicking the air whilst in shock by the chaotic sound of the door hitting the wall and Teucer screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of his miniature sized lungs as he runs in to plop right on top of his older brother.

His bewildered expression soon turns into something of a loving smile as he begins to process what is happening, eyes lighting up despite the deep bags that frame them.

Tonia places the plates on his side table, right next to the empty soup bowl you placed there earlier. She climbs up onto the bed as well to join in on the hug.

Anthon approaches at last, hands in his pockets as he coolly acknowledges his older brother. Instead of a bone-crushing hug like the other two are indulging in, his opts for a fist bump that Childe happily reciprocates.

Then finally, between the shield that are his siblings, his cerulean eyes land on your near the doorway, then trail down to the cake in your oven-mittened hands. He averts his gaze back to your own, and grins so wide his cheeks start to throb.

"Big brother! We made you cake." Teucer moves his head from his chest to face him. "So you can get better."

Childe's laughs ring in your ears, but you don't shy away from the sound. It's a pleasant, something that you wish to hear more of in the near future. Sure enough he laughs a lot at school, but the genuineness of it at home, surrounded by his siblings, stirs something deep within you.

"How thoughtful of you." He ruffles his hair, then his eyes widen as he ushers the two off of him. "You guys can't be near me! I don't want you to fall ill as well."

"But-but how will we feed you the cake without getting close to you?" Tonia frowns, and her two brothers nod in unison.

You chuckle lightly, approaching the bed with the cake in your hands. "I'm sure he has enough strength to feed himself. The hugs and kisses surely must've energized him."

To be honest, Childe's all green in the face and the last thing on his mind would be to indulge in the cake. You understand the feeling all to well. With his nose clogged up, throat all sore, there's no way he'll stomach it. It took a lot of nagging on your part to get him to finish the soup earlier as well.

He blows the candles anyways, clapping along his siblings and letting Tonia drop a fat chunk of the golden cake onto his plate. You find it endearing, regrettably so. His dedication to keeping their dreams is admirable in more ways than you can count.

This is the same guy that wears meme shirts to school, topped off with douchey sunglasses to give him a pristine vibe. The same guy that punches holes in walls like a Kyle. The very boy that flexes his toned biceps in-front of you during lunch time, successfully ruining your appetite.

"Wait a minute..." Childe inspects the cake closely, narrowing in on the candles. "Why is there an eleven?"

Teucer scratches his neck sheepishly. "Those were the only candles we had left."

After another short-lived laugh, Childe manages a bite as everyone stares in expectation, the sound of a tight crunch enveloping the room, making you grimace in secret. If Childe feels like puking out his guts right now, he's doing a hell of a job hiding it from his darling siblings.

You're glad nobody forces you to take a bite, or it would've been a double homicide right then and there.

Soon enough, one by one the children file out of the room, satisfied with their visit. The reality is that they don't want to miss an episode of backyardigans.

Once they leave, you approach him with a napkin. He gets the gist, spitting out the remnants of the cake you slaved over for about two hours.

"Colour me impressed." You snort, moving the cake aside so you can take a seat on the open space next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Amazing." He exclaims, eyes red like a crackhead's, nose runny, with goosebumps kissing his pale skin. He sure does look...amazing.

"Cool." You say, abruptly getting up. "I'm gonna vibe with the kid—"

His hand shoots out from underneath the blanket, clammy palms wrapping around your wrist to keep you locked in place. You gulp in anticipation.

"You kissed me." Childe reminds you, eyes twinkling in mischief, a vicious grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

You try not to choke on your words. "You have circumstantial evidence at most." No attempts are utilized to pull away from him.

He raises a teasing brow, and you give in because the tension is thick. Thicker than the tension between Albedo and Kaeya when the latter shamelessly unzips his front to show more of his biddies. You have no idea why he hasn’t been dress coded yet.

"Fine." You snap out of your impure thoughts, and huff out, frustrated all over. "I kissed you on the cheek."

"Still a kiss though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Also, cute nails." He points out, hand moving down to grasp your fingers. The act is intimate, his caress gentle and caring. Despite his brash, violent personality, he shows you a completely different side to him that hatches butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." You show off the bright jewels on your index. "You have a real nail technician in the house."

Tonia has some serious talent.

When he taps one of the jewels, you slap his hand away. "Careful there dude. These cost me a fortune."

His chuckles die down and he smiles again, but this time apologetically. "They didn't trouble you too much did they? I know they can be loud."

"I like loud." You answer him truthfully. "They're fun to be around. Not nearly as chaotic as you."

He blinks in mock offence, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You come into my house, talk to my siblings, and have the nerve to insult me? Right after taking advantage of me?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll also have the nerve to rip you a new one." You reply dryly with the innocent curl of your lips.

"Bet."

You're about to lunge at him and scream a string of obscenities that no one has ever heard of before, but the Archons are listening and you don't want his siblings to grow up without someone to look up to. Wait a minute—scratch that. You'd be doing them a favour if you wiped his existence right here and now.

You have a fragile heart though. So you sigh, and grab a fistful of sheets in both hands instead.

Childe's grin turns into a petrified scowl.

"Oh no," He pleads, weakly fighting you back. "Have mercy! Please!"

You have loads of mercy. Just not enough for him.

When you have him wrapped in a successful bundle, Childe can’t help but beam, laying limp in his confines.

“What are you smiling about?” You inquire, pulling out the medicine from his box, pausing momentarily in shock. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re into these things you freak.” Head snaps up so fast you nearly suffer from whiplash.

He’s about to answer you but his words turn into a fit of shallow coughs.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Childe’s shrug is nonchalant. “Even if that means I have to be tied up. Kinky by the way.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you hold the spoon up. The dark reddish medicine swirls in deep hues.

“Shut up and open your mouth.”

“Girlie, I don’t think you understand how contradicting that statement is.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s too late to abort yourself.

—

Childe awakens at the crack ass of night, sweat slick, sticky all over, tousled hair sticking to his forehead. He’s a panting mess, eyes darting around the dark room, inhaling, exhaling, mind in a haze from the fever. Gaining somewhat of a grip on reality, he fumbles around to turn on his lamp, throat parched and in need of water.

When he manages to find the switch, he recoils at the brightness, adjusting to the sudden change in his vision. On his side table, there’s a bologna sandwich tucked safely in plastic wrap, a glass of room temperature water, and a bottle of painkillers.

His eyes disregard most of the things, finding interest in the bright pink sticky note next to the painkillers. Unable to ignore the dryness of his throat and the pounding of his head, he quickly gulps a pill down with most of the water, instantly feeling the relief of hydration.

Then, he pounces on the note, giddiness overtaking him despite the pang in his muscles, and the general feeling of absolute shit.

I had to leave. Don’t worry about your siblings, they’re all tucked in and fine. Except for Anthon maybe. Apparently he’s mildly lactose intolerant and thought it was a good idea to overdose on chocolate milk when I was busy with Teucer. Anyways, get better soon stupid.

— Y/N

He safely tucks the note under his pillow, edges of his lips turned upwards, warmth flooding his veins when he takes another look around his surroundings.

The room itself is cleaned, floor cleared from the initial clutter and the cool shiny collector’s knives he buys off of Amazon safely hung over the wall, not littered on his desk like they usually are.

The homework he was supposed do, but most likely wouldn’t, is already completed, stacked neatly atop each other.

Childe swears his heart bursts in his chest, exploding into tiny particles that overheat his entire body.

There’s no way in hell a few days worth of homework is gonna bring his failing mark up, but then again it’s the thought that counts.

While the sandwich is catered to his nausea, bland and plain for easy digestion, an easy fill, it’s the best meal he’s ever had in his life.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe #childe x reader #fanfic #genshin oneshot #genshin tartagalia #kaeya alberich #tartagila #venti genshin impact #albedo #teucer #genshin archon #tartagalia x reader #tartagalia genshin impact