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nationalharryleague · 3 years

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Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

An extra for our babies can be found here!

3K notes · View notes

nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

Second Place ; Miya Osamu.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | miya osamu x fem!reader

w.c | 2.2k

genre | fluff

warning(s) | slightly suggestive, implied sexual content

author's note | i've been wanting to write this for a while! so here it is <3 it's not beta read and I didn't use a lot of metaphorical filling so it's not that poetic but eh Idc bc ✨ self indulgence ✨

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Once upon a time, Miya Osamu swore that he would never settle for second place again— He was never going to let another Miya score first place while he stood in the shadows. The twins had split paths after graduation, stepping onto stages where they'd never have to compete against each other for the spotlight again.

... Okay, who was he kidding. He'd be compared to Atsumu for his whole life— It wasn't like a different career would change that. Besides, his aunts were way too bored to not spin up something about him and his brother during family gatherings.

"Atsumu's making more money, isn't he?"

Well duh, he was a professional volleyball player, of course he made more money— Osamu wanted to roll his eyes in front of his aunts to make sure they understood that he heard their hushed whispers— But then again, he was an adult now, and he knew better than to stoop that low.

The comforting grip you had on his wrist also helped.

Things did get slightly better for him, though.

"Atsumu, your brother's already married," Osamu overheard his second aunt say to his twin during his wedding reception, "When are you going to settle down?"

The grey-haired Miya couldn't help but have a grin on his face for the entire night. Granted, the fact there was a silver ring on your finger also helped. You were absolutely radiant that night, and Osamu couldn't have been happier to finally be able to introduce you as his spouse.

Osamu's marriage did tilt more pressure towards his twin's way, because not more than half a year later, Atsumu caved in and found a sweet little thing to share his life with. The setter had had a couple flings here and there in his earlier years— But none of them ever lasted that long, and Atsumu had never introduced them to his brother, which is how Osamu knew that his twin really cared about the girl when the golden-haired man visited Onigiri Miya with her hanging on his arms.

If he didn't have the decency to help his brother maintain a good image, Osamu would've straight-up snorted at how tense his twin was when he served onigiri up onto their table, the shop empty with the exception of one table. It was almost like Atsumu was seeking Osamu's approval— Which was hilarious enough without the fact that the setter was nervous about it.

At the end of the night, it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off Atsumu's shoulders. Kaoru— The name of Osamu's potential sister-in-law— Got along wonderfully with you, who kept the shy-but-bright woman entertained as Osamu dragged his twin into the kitchen to make fun of him.

"Oh, go easy on him," You elbowed him lightly as the two of you closed up the shop for the night, wiping down the tables and tucking the chairs in. "Atsumu genuinely cares about her, he's making an effort!"

Osamu let out the snort he had held in for most of the evening. "I wouldn't be his brother if I didn't make fun of him."

"Boys." You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. You had been around to catch the tail-end of some of Atsumu's previous relationships, so you could tell that Kaoru was different; In a way, Atsumu looked at her the same way Osamu eyed a nice piece of mackerel in the grocery shop.

"I heard that! C'mere," Osamu grinned, tackling you from the back. A smile burst across his lips when a giggle erupted from your lips, a cloth rag smacking him in the face when you tried to wriggle away from his hold. "You aren't getting away, pumpkin. Save your energy for later."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, yelping when he was smacked with the rag again.

"There won't be a later if you keep that up." You warned, laughing when horror instantly swept over his expression. His protests echoed in your ears as you thought about how this marriage was something you'd never regret. Yes, it was rough because his business took off on a rocky road, but you knew there was no gain without pain, so you hung on and saw him through to the fruits of his labour.

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The next family meeting was graced with the presence of Kaoru, who, in turn, had been graced with your advice.

"Dress decently, do not wear black," You had warned her the night before on the phone, grimacing at the memory of your first Miya family dinner. No one had aunts more judgemental than the Miya twins. "I would suggest going with a dress. Oh, and it might help to bring a gift. A bottle of Ginseng Wine might be a good idea."

"We're here," Osamu parked the car outside the family home, subconsciously wincing at the sight of his aunts' vehicles. "... Ah. They’re here."

"I see they turned up early," You grimaced, "Atsumu and Kaoru-chan are going to have a brilliant night."

"Yup." Your husband grinned slightly at that, earning a smack for smiling at his brother's suffering. "Oh, he'll be fine. We'll mention that when Atsumu really needs saving." The wink he sent your way made your stomach butterflies flutter, but the warm touch of his fingers on your hand made them settle. "We'll be fine," Osamu's eyes softened as he met yours, reassuring you. "You've got me, remember? Worst case scenario, we'll just high-tail out of there and say we need to work tomorrow."

"Right," You released a breath of relief, interlocking your fingers with his. "Ready?"

"To see Atsumu suffer?" Osamu quipped. "Hell yeah."

And suffer did Atsumu. Kaoru wasn’t spared (of course she wasn’t—) and was judged from head-to-toe by the Miya's critical aunts. From the way they were eyeing her, you'd think they were the judges of Miss Universe instead of potential aunt-in-laws. Despite that, Kaoru braved the storm and stood strong through the whole night, her resilience shining with her determination to be with the other Miya twin— Osamu nodded his approval at that.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, with the elderly seated on the cushioned couches while the twins were squashed together on a bean bag (that you had to convince them to share, because apparently they were adamant about pushing the other off of it). Kaoru and you managed to snag a small corner of a couch, stifling your laughter at the sour faces of your respective significant others.

"So, Kaoru-san," Four heads collectively flinched when the aunt opened her mouth, "What's your job? Yearly salary?"

"Um, I'm... I'm a newspaper editor," Kaoru fidgeted with the strap of her bag while you resisted the urge to snap at her to look as confident as she could if she didn't want the interrogation to go on for the rest of the night. A shy, nervous thing like her would only make the predator's lick their lips at the sight of easy prey.

"Oh! That makes sense," The woman sneered, Osamu's mother not-so-discreetly turning up the volume of the television in hopes that the conversation would be drowned out. "You definitely dress with the salary of an editor."

Offence flashed across Atsumu's face like lightning, but before he could start a fight to defend his girlfriend's honour, Osamu dragged his brother back onto the bean bag and stood up.

"Excuse me, everyone," Osamu put on his practiced customer-service smile flawlessly, capturing everyone's attention instantly. "Y/N and I have an announcement to make." His eyes met yours, and you nodded, a smile waltzing across your lips.

"Mother, father," You begin, addressing your in-laws like you addressed your own parents. Encouragement swirled in your blood as Osamu interlocked your hands and squeezed your fingers. "You're going to be grandparents."

It took a while for the news to kick in.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Osamu's mother cried out, rushing to envelop you in a hug that you gracefully accepted. "Do you know the gender yet?"

"Of course not, mother." Osamu rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We're not that far along yet."

"That's amazing! Congratulations!" Kaoru beamed brightly, not having picked up on Osamu's timely intervention.

"Thank you." You replied warmly.

"Well then, are you going to stop working?" The first aunt shot at you, smirking, coy as ever. She knew that you weren't the type to drop your job just because of an incoming child.

"Of course not." You replied easily, "What kind of spouse would I be if I couldn't help carry the financial burdens with my husband?"

She shut her trap instantly, huffing in fury. Osamu had never looked prouder.

The family rejoiced for a little longer, and from the tip of your ears, you heard Osamu gloating slightly about having reached another milestone earlier than his brother.

"I love you," Your husband murmured into the crook of your neck as the two of you cuddled in the warmth of your bed, too far for his aunts' sharp words to hurt you. "And our little boy in there.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“... Father’s instinct.”

Months flew by in a blur, and so did doctor appointments, Sunday shopping trips with Kaoru as you left Atsumu to help Osamu in the restaurant. The pair would drive the half-an-hour trip from Osaka to Hyogo every weekend. This arrangement elicited a couple silly arguments between the twins, of course, but once you taught Kaoru the stern look that would make the two settle like guilty puppies with their tails between their legs— Those arguments became simple matters to handle.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Kaoru asked you while the two of you sipped on coffee.

“I have a couple in mind,” You smiled. “Osamu won’t stop going on about how he was right. The baby’s a boy.”

“Boys will be boys,” Kaoru rolled her eyes. Then, her expression changed to a wistful one. “This might sound odd, but… I just find myself thinking, sometimes… One day, I want what you and Osamu have.”

“... A happy marriage?” You raised an eyebrow, “Honey, you’re already on your way to one. Atsumu looks at you the same way ‘Samu looks at a bowl of gyudon. Or the way I look at a bucket of mint ice cream with peanut butter…”

Kaoru made a concerned look. “The baby sure craves some odd things.”

“You’ll experience this one day.” You returned pointedly. “Logically, I never would’ve thought of eating mint chocolate ice cream with peanut butter slathered on… But cravings are cravings. And it was surprisingly nice.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

After nine long months of waiting, Miya Tomohito was welcomed to the world. Osamu cried (Atsumu made fun of him for it before getting smacked by Kaoru— She was learning a lot from you). Both yours and Osamu’s parents wouldn’t stop gawking at your baby boy, with his little tuff of dark hair, his tightly-fisted hands and the slight cherry-red flush of his cheeks. You never thought you’d fall in love at first sight— But your son was living proof that you were wrong. From the first moment you held him in your arms, you had already given a piece of your heart for him to hold in his tiny little hands.

It quickly became a regular sight for frequent customers of Onigiri Miya to see Osamu walking around the shop, a sleeping baby boy strapped to his back. The two were inseparable. Once, you walked in on your husband having a full conversation with Tomohito, who was sucking on a spoon.

“I’m thinking of adding a twist to my tuna onigiri recipe,” Osamu said, as if he were talking to an adult and not a three-month old baby. “Do you think adding a squeeze of lemon juice will make it taste better?”

“Gwa.” Tomohito replied intelligently.

“Great suggestion, Tomo.”

“Mmm.”

“I see. We could go to the grocery store later to get some tuna and try that recipe tonight.”

“Ba.”

“You’re a genius, Tomo.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“I can’t believe you.” Osamu looked helpless. “You’re not… You’re not seriously doing this to me.”

“I’m completely serious.” You said firmly, having put your foot down with no room for argument.

“You’re really choosing him over me?” Your husband’s jaw dropped when you nodded solemnly. “I’m your husband!”

“And he’s my son.” You shot back instantly.

“You’re kicking me out of our bed for our son?”

“He’s sick!” You refuted. “I need him to be as close as possible to me. His fever hasn’t gone down completely yet and I can’t let him go back into his cot tonight. Besides, you might get sick if we all sleep in the same bed. Who’ll take care of the shop then?”

Osamu drooped visibly. He couldn’t believe what was happening— He had lost to a Miya once again— Now his son instead of his brother. “Fine.” He mumbled sadly. “Make your poor husband sleep on the couch.”

“It’s only for one night, ‘Samu.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomohito's name is written as 智仁. '智' means intelligence and '仁' means compassionate. I have a friend named Tomohito.

Also, when I was writing this I reminded myself to make sure I made the reader gender-neutral. That is, until I realised that I made the reader pregnant. I am an idiot.

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @animegirlweeb @cemeiia @haikyuushuffle

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu x reader fluff #miya osamu x reader fluff #[ris writes]—✧#ris's works: [second place]—✧

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

love, in ink

summary: Spencer wants to do something special to commemorate your relationship. (or, reader and spencer get a couples’ tattoo)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: tattoos & tattooing, one very light sexual reference bc i'm a hoe

a/n: i recently got my first tattoo and i’ve been absolutely obsessed with tattoos ever since, so here you go. location and design was purposefully left vague so you can imagine anything you want, but i do write reader as already having at least two tattoos.

word count: 2.9k

masterlist

Spencer’s been thinking about it for years.

Two years, eight months, and twenty days to be exact.

Looking back, four months and ten days was pretty early to be thinking of something so permanent. But he couldn’t help it—contrary to how he thinks people perceive him, he’s a romantic. A bit of a hopeless one, really.

In any case, he had been right. Almost three years after your first date, you’re still together and absolutely in love. You live together, your lives are inseparably entwined. Every day has been an affirmation of the conclusion he came to three months into your relationship—you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

So really, four months and ten days wasn’t all that early to think of getting a tattoo with you.

He doesn’t have any, but you do, and he’s always loved them. He likes running his fingers over them, pressing kisses to them, rubbing moisturizer into them, and aiding you in making sure they’re all well covered in sunscreen before you’re going to be outside for a while.

He’d never really considered getting a tattoo until he saw how much you loved yours. It’s one of your favorite forms of self-expression, you’ve told him. You say the body art helps you feel more confident, comfortable, and at home in your body. Confidence in your body—that’s definitely something he could do with. But above everything, because it’s something you love, and Spencer loves you, it’s an experience he wants to share with you.

He brings up the idea over dinner forty-five days before your three-year anniversary. You’re reading while you eat—a common occurrence in your home for the both of you. He spins his fork in his hand a few times, then carefully sets it down and says your name.

You hold up a finger to ask him to wait; he watches your eyes move across the page as you finish the paragraph you’re on. Your attention is on him as soon as you’re finished. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He’s nervous—he knows you love him, but what if you say no anyways? What if you don’t want to get a tattoo with him? They are permanent, after all. “It’s… I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admits.

Your eyes widen when you pick up on his anxiety. “Oh god, are you breaking up with me?”

He nearly chokes on the water he’d nervously sipped. “Wha—no, no!” he rushes to assure. “I—I love you. I don’t—I don’t ever want that.”

You take in a deep breath, carefully putting your book aside. “Alright. Okay.”

“Why would you think I was breaking up with you?” he asks, concerned about the conclusion you’d jumped to. “Are… are you not happy? Are things not good between us, for you? I thought—well, think, they are. Maybe I’m wrong? I could be. I’ve never been the best at reading social clues. Have I missed something? I’m sorry if I have. I--”

“Spence, Spencer.” You interrupt his nervous rambling and reach across the table, placing your hand on top of his. “Things are great between us for me. I love you, too. You were just so serious when you said you wanted to talk, it caught me off guard. It’s… not an uncommon way for a conversation about breaking up to start.”

“Oh. Sorry. I—I didn’t realize it could come off like that,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay. As long as we’re not breaking up, I’m happy.” You give his hand a squeeze before leaning back in your chair. “So, what is it you want to talk about?”

“Right.” He squares his shoulders and wipes his damp palms on his pants. “Our three year anniversary is in forty-five days, and I was thinking to celebrate, maybe we could… get a tattoo together?”

Immediately you break into the most beautiful smile—he’s happy to have an eidetic memory when it comes to moments like this. “Really?” you ask, body tense with excitement.

“Yeah. Really,” he confirms. “I, um… I guess you’re on board, then?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes, yes, yes! Oh, Spencer this is so exciting! Your first tattoo!”

He doesn’t bother to correct you about calling it his first. He’s got no plans to get more, so this could very well be his only tattoo. But he doesn’t want to dampen the moment, so instead he says, “I don’t really have any ideas for it. I just want to do it with you.”

“Wait here.” You disappear into the bedroom and return with a folded piece of notebook paper. It’s worn and wrinkled, the edges curled in. He unfolds it carefully to find the page covered in your handwriting. Some of the writing looks more rushed than other parts. Some sections are in blue ink, some are in black. It’s clear you’ve been compiling this list for quite a while.

He reads it at his normal, rapid pace, but it takes him a few moments to understand it. “Is this a list of…?”

You nod. “Tattoo ideas.” He looks up at you in… well, in awe, and you shrug. “I don’t want to just get your name on me, as nice as it is.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Um.” The answer seems to embarrass you a little. “A… a couple of years.”

“Years?” he repeats. “But you never said anything.”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured into getting a tattoo,” you say. “Since they are, you know, permanent.”

“Relatively.” He looks back to the paper, running his fingertips over the indents left by the pressure of the pen. “They naturally fade with age, and can age prematurely through sun exposure.”

“Yeah. Listen, it’s okay if you don’t like any of my ideas.”

Spencer shakes his head—he likes a lot of them, but he already knows which one he wants—he knew as soon as he read it. He points. “This one.”

You bend down to see it and smile. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“It’s perfect,” he says, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

---

You handle pretty much everything, contacting one of your favorite artists and pitching the idea. You’ve been tattooed by her before—specifically, she did his favorite of your tattoos. So he’s happy to have her do this one, too, putting down the deposit without hesitation. The artwork she sends back is everything he pictured and more. She’s taken the idea and brought it to life better than he could ever hope to. A few tweaks here and there, then the date is set. You’ll be getting tattooed the Friday before your anniversary.

Yours will be done first, near the end of his work day—when he arrives, you should be just about done. It’s not exactly how he imagined it happening, but you said it would be better this way. If he sits and watches you get the entire thing done, you think he’ll end up psyching himself out about his own tattoo.

“Is it really that bad?” he had asked.

You shrug. “Well, it’s pain, so it’s obviously not super fun, but it’s tolerable. You overreacted when I stubbed my toe last week, so I think it’s probably best if you’re not there watching me the entire time.”

“I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he defends sheepishly.

“Exactly. I’ll keep you updated with texts and pictures, though, okay?”

He agrees, because honestly, you’re probably right.

Getting into bed with you the night before he asks, “What does it feel like? Besides it just hurting.”

“It’s different for everyone. It also depends on where you get it.” Spencer bumps your arm with his nose, silently requesting for you to adjust your position in a way that allows him to press as much of his body as he possibly can against yours. You place your hand in his hair once he’s settled, as usual, then continue. “It does kind of… vibrate. That’s something I didn’t expect going into my first tattoo.”

“Vibrate?” he repeats. “That’s… well, I guess it makes sense, considering how tattoo machines work.”

“Mm-hmm. But I wouldn’t worry about that part if I were you. Last time I checked, vibration isn’t a sensation that bothers you.” A very slight tug on his hair. “The opposite, actually.”

The squeak he makes is involuntary. “I, um… okay. I’ll—I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’s treated to a little laugh, but then your tone changes. “Seriously, though, Spencer. It’s okay if it ends up being too much, or just not for you, and you can’t finish the tattoo. Or if you just don’t want to finish it. I won’t be mad.”

He’s taken by surprise at first. It is a worry that he’s been harboring, that all the sensory input will be too much, but he’s never said anything about it, so how did you know?

Then again, it’s you. Of course you know. You always do.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

---

“Hey, how can I help you?”

Spencer looks up from his phone to the woman who’s just come into the front of the shop from the back. As promised, you’d kept him updated on your tattoo process with texts and pictures.

“Um, I—I have an appointment?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but he’s really nervous—you were definitely right to have him come in later than you so he doesn’t have enough time to get really worked up.

“Who’s it with?”

“Megan.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Megan is currently with someone. I can go ask her how long the wait will be.”

“No, it’s okay, she’s working on my partner. We’re—we’re getting tattoos together,” he explains.

“Oh, fun! I’ll lead you back, then.”

He follows her to an open doorway. Your body is still and unmoving; Megan is hunched over your skin. You smile when you see him. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Hey. Um, how’s it going?”

You sigh. “Well, to be honest, I think this is going to be my last tattoo.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Megan says without looking up.

The little angry huff you make before replying with “I know” makes him smile, and his nerves settle a little. “Why do I do this to myself?”

Spencer can tell it’s just a rhetorical question, asked in good humor, but he can’t stop himself from answering it regardless.

“There are many different reasons that could drive someone to get a tattoo despite the pain, including the adrenaline and endorphins the body produces in response to pain, stress relief, and the need for creative expression.”

“Stress relief?” you repeat. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“It is a strange concept at face value. An example, though, would be getting a tattoo to mark the end of a difficult period in your life. Some people get them to symbolize personal difficulties or trauma, or to memorialize people they’ve lost. It can be a form of catharsis that helps them process painful emotions, memories, or other stressful feelings.”

Your head tilts as you take the information in. “That’s interesting.”

“Alright.” Megan leans back. “It’s done. Go take a look.”

Spencer follows you to the full length mirror. “Oh, wow,” you breathe out as soon as you see it. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Spencer.” You touch his arm. “What do you think?”

It takes him a few moments to answer because he’s been overcome with emotion. He’s overwhelmed with just how much you love and care for him to have permanently embedded a reminder of him into your skin. “It’s perfect,” he whispers.

“It is,” you agree.

You return to Megan and she takes a few photos of the tattoo, promising to text them to you, then gets started on the aftercare. “You know the drill,” she says, but still gives you the instructions for what to do as the artwork heals. He only barely registers what she’s saying—his eyes are glued to the tattoo.

“Okay, let me get everything switched out and cleaned up, and then we can start on yours, Spencer.”

“Hmm?” He tears his gaze away to find Megan looking at him. “Oh, right. Okay.” He sits off to the side with you while she disposes of supplies, replaces them with new, sterile ones, and wipes everything down.

She works fast—before he knows it, Megan has shaved and cleaned his skin, and has him in front of the mirror as she places the stencil. It takes a few tries to get it just right. He apologizes when she has to print the stencil again, but she waves him off. “It’s your tattoo and it’s going to be on you forever. I want you to be one-hundred percent happy with the placement.”

His nerves spike back up when he’s settled down and all ready to be tattooed. You sit in a chair on the opposite side of him than Megan, and when you offer your hand, he grabs it immediately.

“Breathe, baby,” you say gently. “Try not to tense up too much.”

He does try, but still jumps a little when Megan’s gloved hand touches him. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she reassures. “I won’t start until you’re ready.”

“I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay. I’ll start with just one small line.”

It’s a strange sensation, unlike anything he’s felt before, but it’s… not horrible. He’s been scratched by cats in the past, and it feels kind of like that, but hot. There’s the vibrating you had mentioned, too.

“How was that?” Megan asks.

“Not so bad,” he answers honestly.

“That’s great. I’ll keep going then. Settle in. Just let me know if you start feeling funny or if you need a break, alright?” At his nod, she goes to work, and he switches his attention to you. He knows he shouldn’t, that it’ll probably come back to bite him in the ass, but he can’t stop himself from teasing you.

“I don’t know why you were complaining earlier,” he says in his best innocent voice, with his best innocent expression. “It’s not that bad.”

The way your mouth drops open just a little bit is adorable, and so is the noise of disbelief that follows. “Yeah, okay. Tell me that again at the end.”

“I will,” he replies, mentally adding probably not to the sentence.

You roll your eyes and let go of his hand to sort through your things. You give him a lollipop when you find it.

“What’s this for?” Suckers aren’t really his favorite candy.

“Your adrenaline is probably going to drop now that the tattoo has started and I don’t want you to pass out,” you say. “The sugar will help prevent you from getting lightheaded.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

The tattoo goes well overall, he thinks. It’s definitely painful, but like you said, it’s tolerable. He’s certainly felt worse. Near the end, though, he really starts hurting, and a grimace slips across his face.

“She’s almost done,” you reassure. He hasn’t been looking at it, but you have. “Also, what was that you saying earlier?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “It’s not even the needle, you know. It’s the paper towels.”

“A lot of people say that,” Megan says. “Just a few more minutes left.”

He spends those last few minutes questioning every decision he’s made in his life that has led him to this moment, and swearing to himself that he’s never going to do this again. But then it’s over and he’s looking at in the mirror, and it’s suddenly like the past five minutes never happened.

Spencer loves it. He absolutely adores it. Not just the art itself, but how it looks on his body and how it’s making him feel.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask, making him jump a little. He’d been so fixated on the tattoo that he didn’t notice you joining him.

He ponders for a moment to find the right words. “I’m beginning to understand why you like doing this so much.”

You grin. “It’s great, huh?”

“It is, yeah. I kind of want to touch it; is that weird?”

“No, but don’t,” you reply. “It’s an open wound.”

“I know.” He looks back at Megan. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she says. “Thank you for trusting me with your first tattoo.”

When he drags himself away from the mirror, she goes over aftercare with him, and he listens more intently this time. A few things are going to be a little inconvenient, he thinks, but it’s more than worth the trade off.

You take his hand as you leave the shop. “I’m so happy that I got to do that with you.”

He squeezes your hand back. “Me too.”

You reach the car, but before he can move towards the passenger side, you pull him in close. “I love you.”

His free hand comes up to cradle your cheek. “I love you, too.”

You kiss him, soft and sweet. “Happy three years,” you say when you pull back.

“Here’s to three more?” he offers, a little nervous, but mostly hopeful.

Your smile leaves no room for doubt. “I like the sound of that.”

---------------

hit up my inbox if you wanna talk tattoos bc i fucking love them. what do you see spencer getting with his partner?

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor , @spencerreid9

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #tattoos rlly are a rabbit hole for some of us like i already have an appointment for my second one lol

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Champion

Request: omg i saw that u opened requests again and i’m in love w ur writing 🥺 so can i request a fluffy cedric diggory imagine where he wins the triwizard tournament and finally ends up confessing that he loves you bc he thought he was gonna die? tysm!! (i can’t handle his death so this is my way of coping).

A/N: Same nonnie, same. My first Cedric request!! I loved writing it and I can only hope I got his characterisation right! There’s a ton of fluff but a little bit of angst as well because I had to, sorry! I hope you enjoy and I hope I’ve done your request justice! Enjoy reading, love to you all!

Warnings: some swearing, some angst, some fluff!

Word count: 2.5k

“Cedric, are you sure you want to enter? You know what this competition holds.”

“I have to try, (Y/N). Others from Hogwarts are entering; it probably won’t even be my name they pull from the Goblet.”

You nod, his words reassuring you slightly. However, the worry and panic still eat away at your gut as he places the piece of parchment with his name written in his best handwriting into the Goblet.

--------------------------------

Cedric keeps an arm around your shoulder at the choosing ceremony. Your legs bounces to the rhythm of your heart; nerves beginning to get the better of you.

“Calm down, you’re jostling the table.” Cedric whispers into your ear.

You calm the bouncing of your leg, replying, “I can’t help it if I’m nervous.”

“It’ll be okay. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

You flash him a small smile, pretending that his words have reassured you but as you watch the flame of the Goblet of Fire flicker, dread pools low in your gut.

The little pieces of parchment are spat out of the Goblet one by one. Each name announced by Dumbledore as the newly appointed champions make their way to a side room to await further instruction.

Victor Krum; champion for Durmstrang.

Fleur Delacour; champion for Beauxbatons.

Dumbledore’s hand snatches the final piece of parchment spat out from the Goblet of Fire.

His voice rings loud and clear through the Great Hall, “The Hogwarts’ champion: Mr. Cedric Diggory.”

Cheers ring out from the Hogwarts’ student body, but you can’t bring yourself to do so. You force a smile across your face as Cedric hand squeezes your shoulder before he heads to the front of the hall to take his piece of parchment from Dumbledore. You watch him walk through a side door

It’s as if the rug has been pulled out from under you; leaving you gasping for breath and grabbing for help.

You lose focus; you don’t hear the Goblet of Fire give one more name, and you don’t hear Harry Potter’s name read out to the questioning mutters of the crowd.

You simply watch the door upon which Cedric had walked through as if your gaze was powerful enough to bring him back.

----------------------------------------------

You wait for him in the common room.

He’s greeted with cheers and shouts of congratulations, but he only has eyes for you. You’re already watching him as his eyes find yours.

Cedric takes a seat next you; he doesn’t speak immediately, already knowing that you’re finding what you want to say to him.

“I’m scared for you.” You whisper, eyes focused on the fire.

He pulls you into his side, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “I know you are.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I’m going to win.”

You drop your head into your hands, “Cedric, I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you…”

“Nothing will.”

“You sound so sure of it.”

“I can’t promise everything will be okay because this is a dangerous competition, but what I do know is that with you by my side helping me, not a lot can go wrong.”

You slump back into the couch, “Cedric Diggory, I did not expect our friendship to make me prematurely grey.”

He laughs, “So you’ll help me then? With preparing for the trials?”

“I’ll always help you.”

His arm is back around your shoulder; you lean into his side. A friendship that had been so precious to you for two years now but had always teetered on the edge of something more. As you both lose yourself in your thoughts, you both wonder what the outcome of this tournament could be.

-----------------------------------------------

“Cedric Diggory! Are you making it your life’s mission to give me high blood pressure? If so, you’re doing a fine job of it.”

Cedric looks at you wide-eyed. You’re stood at the bottom of his hospital bed with your hands on your hips, ready to duel the entire Ministry of Magic if it meant it would get him out of this shitshow of a tournament.

“(Y/N), it’s okay,” He reassures, “I’m okay. Look – everything’s working just fine.” He stands from the bed to pull you into a hug. You hide your face in his chest, listening to the solid thump of his heart.

“Cedric, half of your face is burnt. From a dragon, might I add.”

“But Madame Pomfrey has already healed it because she’s a miracle worker.”

“You scared me half to death. They wouldn’t let me in until everyone had caught their egg.”

His arms tighten around you, “It’s okay. I can do this.”

“I know you can, I have every faith in you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be scared for you. If anything was to happen to you, I don’t know what I’d do.” Repeating your words from the common room conversation a month ago has this all settling into place for you; if anything were to happen to him you would never be able to tell him how you feel.

“Nothing is going to happen to me… well, nothing major at least.”

You sigh through your nose, “Cedric, you really are doing an awful job at reassuring me.”

He laughs, “How should I do it instead?”

You bite your lip, “Just keep hugging me. I know you’re still in one piece that way.”

Cedric’s hand rubs calming circles into your back, “I can do that.”

--------------------------------------------

You don’t remember anything before breaking the surface. You don’t remember anything until Cedric is helping you swim towards the stands where warm towels and blankets are waiting for you both.

Your teeth chatter as you ask, “What happened?”

Cedric is wrapping blanket after blanket around your shoulders, ignoring the fact that his lips are turning blue. “(Y/N), are you okay? Are you warming up? I should have known they’d use you when I couldn’t find you this morning. What do you remember before leaving the lake?”

You grab his hand, “Cedric, calm down. Take a blanket, you’re panicking me. I’m warming up just fine. The last thing I remember was being asked to go see Professor Sprout in the Headmaster’s office to discuss becoming a prefect.”

He slumps down next to you on stand; finally accepting a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders.

Teeth still chattering, your eyes narrow at the teachers watching the scene, “I better get Prefect for this, Professor Sprout.” You call.

The only indication she gives that she’s heard you is a loud chuckle. Your eyes narrow even further, but they’re directed at Cedric, “Why was I down there?”

“It was part of the mermaid’s riddle. They took something I cared about so I would bring it back.”

You shiver, “Oh?”

Cedric nods, not ready to have this conversation yet so instead focuses on your shivering, “Are you okay? Are you sure you’re warm enough?” He shuffles closer to you; sharing his blanket with you.

“I’m fine, Ced. I just don’t think I’ll be going swimming for a while.”

Despite it all, Cedric laughs. You follow; gasping for air in no time because what else is there to do when you’ve been involved in a competition that holds possible to risk to life?

You are both still laughing as Dumbledore’s voice announces the winner. “For his unique use of the Bubble Head Charm, we award First Place to Cedric Diggory!”

Fellow Hufflepuff’s begin to chant Cedric’s name; all trying to pat his shoulder. You sober up; eyes wide as you turn to look at Cedric.

You throw your arms around him, “Cedric! First place! You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.”

His arms wrap around you, whispering in your ear, “Thank you, (Y/N). I think you might be my good luck charm.”

“Oh hush. It’s all you and you know that.”

Cedric opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it. He knew what he wanted to say but wanted a better setting. He wanted to confess; wanted to tell you how he felt about you, but he decides against it at the last moment.

I’ll tell her if I win, he thinks.

----------------------------------

Cedric’s eyes seek yours before he enters the maze; knowing that your face would calm his heartrate in no time and help him think logically before completing the final task.

He finds your face in no time and already feels his heart calm down. You’re sat at the end of the row; ready to run to him should anything go wrong. His love for you surges through his body and he suddenly wishes he had told you he was in love with you before all of this.

-------------------------------------

Time drags as each champion makes their way into the maze. Worry had settled in your gut like a lead balloon as Cedric was the first to enter. He caught your eyes before he entered, flashing you a small smile that had your heart racing. As you waited for him to return, you found yourself regretting the fact that you had never told him how you felt before the tournament even started.

You’ve bitten your nails down to the bed in worry. Your gaze does not leave the very entrance to the maze that Cedric had walked through just over an hour ago.

Nothing happens; then everything happens at once.

Two bodies land in the arena. Neither moving.

Dumbledore begins to shout for Madame Pomphrey as he races to the bodies. You finally recognise the Hufflepuff yellow of his jersey.

Your heart falls to the floor. You don’t recognise your own voice as you scream his name over and over again. Trying to get through the crowd forming; elbowing your way to him.

You are caught by Professor Sprout who holds you to her; whispering that he’s alive but he needs to be healed.

He’s alive.

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

You sag in her arms; the fight leaving you in a single second. You let Professor Sprout lead you away from the arena. The words continue to circle in your mind; he’s alive, he’s breathing, he’s still here.

------------------------------------

It feels like days before you can enter the hospital wing, but it’s only hours. You refuse to leave the area; sitting outside the hospital wing, back straight against the wall, keeping your eyes on the door.

Cedric’s mother and father both leave the hospital wing and catch sight of you slumped against the wall.

You open your mouth to say something, but Cedric’s father beats you too it.

“He’s awake, and he’s asking for you.” His father says.

You sit up straighter, “Would you mind if I go see him?”

He nods, “That’s fine. Would you keep him company as we go find something to eat?”

You stand up, brushing yourself down in an effort to look presentable, “Of course. Thank you for letting me see him.”

Cedric’s mother smiles at you, “It’s no problem, dear. We’ll be back soon.”

They walk away, hand in hand, needing the physical support of their partner right now. You watch them for a single instant, then you push your way into the hospital wing.

You stare at Harry Potter for a moment; arm bandaged, asleep. You had heard his screams before they gave him a sleeping potion. Mrs. Weasley smiles at you as you pass their bed, pointing to the bed where Cedric lays. You reply with what you hope is a grateful smile before turning to Cedric’s bed.

His grey eyes take you in as you approach the bed; the crumpled clothes, the puffy cheeks and red eyes. He knows instantly that you’ve stayed outside the hospital wing for him and that you’ve cried for him.

Him whispering your name is all it takes for you to begin crying again.

“Sweetheart, no. I’m okay, I need you to look at me.” His first thought is to reassure you; to stop you crying. The pet name falling from his lips without a second thought.

You do; you take in the bandages covering his body as well as what looks to be fresh scar on his left arm. There are shadows under his eyes that no amount of sleep could cure, but he’s smiling at you. Despite it all, he’s smiling at you.

You sob. “Cedric, I was petrified.”

He reaches for your hand; you’re by his side immediately, wrapping it in your own. “I’m here, (Y/N). Did Professor Sprout explain what happened?”

You nod; your tears beginning to dry, “There was nothing, and then there you both were.” You close your eyes, reliving the moment of seeing him lying in the arena, lifeless, “And you weren’t moving. It was like I was in a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up.”

He frowns; despising himself for the pain he had put you through. “In the graveyard… when I was facing him with Harry, would you like to know what my only thought was?”

“What?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Cedric nods, “If I was going to die, I wanted my last thought to be of you.”

The tears start anew, “Cedric…”

“I can’t keep it hidden anymore, not after that. I love you. I’ve loved you since Second Year and you dropped ink all over my notes and in guilt, you made sure your notes were copied neatly so I could have a copy. I would have said something sooner, but I was worried that it would ruin our friendship. I’m not worried anymore.”

You sniffle, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. The last thing you cared about right now was your appearance, “Cedric, I love you too.”

“You do?”

You nod, “I do. I have since that very same day. When you entered the maze, I had this overwhelming sense of regret that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I’m happy that it’s out there now.”

He smiles at you, “When I’m out of here, I’m taking you on a date.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we’re going to do this properly. I want to do this properly.”

You nod, “Okay. A date sounds good, but only after you’re entirely healed.”

He nods, agreeing with you, settling his head further into the pillow, closing his eyes. You go to pull your hand away, but his eyes fly open, hand gripping yours tighter.

“Where are you going?”

“I was going to let you get some peace and sleep.”

“Stay with me?”

“Your parents will be back soon.”

“I know, but I want you to stay with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight just yet.”

You relax at his words, “Of course. I’ll duel anyone if they try to make me leave.” Then the realisation hits, delayed after the drama of the night, “Cedric, you won. You won the tournament. You’re the Triwizard Champion!”

He nods, grinning, “And you’re in love with him.”

------------------------------------

The formal ceremony takes place once Cedric is released from hospital. He’s handed the cup in front of the whole school and Hufflepuff cheer the loudest upon the announcement of Triwizard Champion.

He accepts the win graciously; offering to share the money with Harry, but Harry declines. Cedric won it fair and square; Harry was just happy that Cedric had his back in the graveyard.

As grateful as he is to be named Triwizard Champion, he’s won something better.

You.

*****

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#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory fanfic #cedric diggory fluff #cedric fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #My writing #fluff #the lightning era #cedric diggory angst #cedric angst #angst #hp fanfic #hp fandom #hp fanfiction #hp series #HP

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itsadamcole · 4 years

Text

graduation day

fem!reader x finn balor

Finn is reader’s English professor. He's spent the semester doing everything he can to make sure he doesn't do anything deemed inappropriate to her. Little does he know that reader feels the same way. The day of graduation, reader stops by Finn's office and the two confess how they've been feeling .... "is this what you want?" & "i've never wanted anyone to fuck me this bad before."

word count: 3k+

warnings: smut, a brief student/teacher relationship, sex in a semi-public area (office)

— enjoy this that i wrote at 3 am bc i was bored and couldn’t sleep .... idk what made me even think of this honestly. maybe it’s the thought of finn in a suit, idk .... there also could be a part two to this, i may need to think about it tho —

masterlist || part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You've always found your English professor attractive. He's made the school day bearable. Everyday at 3 pm, you'd walk into that classroom and everything would instantly feel better for that hour long class.

When he would teach, you would look at how his muscles looked in his shirt or how well his pants hugged his butt. He'd notice you looking at him but never thought anything of it because he thought you were just paying attention to the subject of the day.

Finn's always found you quite attractive as well. You've made his school day exciting. Everyday at 3 pm, you'd walk into that classroom and his day would instantly get better for that hour or so of class. After he'd assign his students their work, he'd always sneak glances at you.

You had noticed these glances but never thought anything of them because he occasionally glanced up to make sure everyone was doing their work.

It was graduation day today. Your white gown and cap hang in your car as you pulled up to campus. You hoped that Mr. Balor would be here. He'd told his students on the last day of classes that he'd be in his office from noon until 3 on graduation day to make sure everyone's grades were okay or if anyone needed to talk about how nervous they were to be graduating college.

It was 2:45 when you parked your car in your usual parking spot in the student parking lot. No one was here on campus. It was practically empty. Everyone wouldn't be arriving until five or six for the scheduled seven o'clock graduation ceremony. Only faculty members wandered around campus, packing up the last few things from their offices no doubt.

You got out of your car and checked the time again on your phone. 2:47 pm. The English building was at least a five minute walk from the parking lot. You'd just barely make it.

So you ran. In your white three inch heels you'd decided to wear to graduation. The skirt on your white dress you decided to wear under your gown was flaring out as you ran toward the English building. You pressed your hands down on the skirt so nothing would be revealed to any onlookers. You were terrified that you would pop out of the dress too as the neck dipped very low, revealing a lot of your cleavage. The dress looked a lot like the famous white Marylyn Monroe dress, just a lot shorter and the neck was more lowcut.

Finn was wrapping up in his office as you made your way across the large campus. He finished filing the last papers he had to and he turned off his computer. He leaves his office to run down to the teacher's lounge area to clear out his things from that room.

You check the time again when you arrive to the doors of the English building. 2:52 pm.

You'd been to this building so many times. The classroom you looked forward to coming to everyday was located in this building. His office was located two floors above the classroom.

You take the stairs, running up to the fourth floor.

As you walk down the hallway of the office floor, you check each room's name plate as you walk by, looking for the "Mr. Finn Balor. English Professor" name plate on the door.

One room door was open. You approach it and look at the name plate on the wooden door.

Mr. Finn Balor. English Professor.

You swalllowed, walking into the medium sized room.

Everything was neatly packed away. Everything filed. Computer off. His supplies were neatly placed on his corner desk that took up about 25% of the space in the room. His jacket hung on the back of his desk chair. The backpack full of summer work sat on the black leather love seat that faced the desk on the other side of the room. The door marked the halfway point between the desk and the love seat. Two book selves were placed opposite the wooden door. The medium sized room had a cozy feeling to it.

You had never come to his office before. You were too scared. Scared that something would happen and he would know about your little crush that you've had on him since day one of class in January.

Finn noticed this. How you'd never ask for an appointment or stop by his office for a question. Your grades were excellent and that's why he assumed you never stopped by.

You wait a few minutes in his office to see if he had gone somewhere and will come back. 3 pm approaches and your hopes diminish. He probably left.

You let out a defeated sigh as you make the decision to leave.

As you walk out the door, you physically run into something. Not something. Someone.

"Miss L/N," the all too familiar Irish accent said. "Nice of ya to stop by. I was just thinking about ya."

You finally meet Mr. Balor's too blue eyes and you ask, "You were?"

He nods and walks around you into his office. You swallow nervously as you stand in the doorway and watch as he places a box full of objects on the large desk. "I was hopin' to get to see ya before the ceremony," he says. "I'm glad ya are here."

"Why's that?" you ask curiously, walking into the center of the room.

Mr. Balor looks over at you before he says, "I wanted to congratulate ya on your big day and because ya passed Honors English with flyin' colors. Ya should be very proud of yourself, Miss L/N."

You say, "Thank you, Mr. Balor."

He blinks at you before he says, "Ya graduate today, Y/N. Let's stop with the formalities, shall we? Call me Finn."

"Finn," you echo, trying to get his first name to sound more familiar than foreign. Calling your professor by his first name is not something you had done during the semester.

Finn smiles as you say his name. "So, Y/N," he says, dropping all professionalism. "What brings ya to my office on graduation day? I know it's not to talk about grades."

You shake your head and say, "No, it's not."

He packs a few pictures on his desk away into the box he'd just brought into the room as he asks, "So what do I owe the pleasure?"

Nervously, you say, "I wanted to come talk to you, um, about how I've been feeling for a while."

The packing stops as Finn looks up at you. "Nervous about graduation?" he asks.

You rub the back of your neck and say, "Not really."

"What's going on?" Finn asks, leaning back on his desk. He crosses his arms over his chest and his ankles.

The light grey button-up shirt Finn is wearing is tighter than usual and accentuates his arm muscles when he does this simple movement. It's tucked into his black dress pants. The first few buttons are unbuttoned. He's dressed somewhat casually.

You say, "I graduate today. In about four hours, I will no longer be your student and you will no longer be my teacher."

Finn nods along as you speak. "That's correct," he says.

Before you say anything else, you quickly run your fingers through your Y/H/C color curls. "I thought that now would a good time as any to tell you that over the semester, I've developed some feelings for you and I find you very attractive," you blurt out, trying to speak as slow as you can but it still comes out as a mess.

He's caught off guard by that statement. In that one sentence, he's realized that when he thought you were paying attention to the content on the board, you were looking at him. He's realized that you never came by his office was because of your crush on him. He's realized that you feel the same way that he does about you.

You watch as Finn lets out a sigh of relief and you tilt your head in confusion. "I'm so happy that you said that," Finn says. "Because I've been feeling the same way."

That's when you realize that the glances he's been stealing from you all semester were because he felt the same way. He could never keep his eyes off of you while you concentrated on your work.

A smile forms on your lips as you look at your soon to be former professor.

Finn smiles at you as he walks over, closing the door in case anyone was around.

"It has killed me over the past four months to be your teacher," he says as he approaches you.

You look up at him and ask, "And why is that, Mr. Balor."

He smiles and says, "Because it's prevented me from doing this." He leans down and lightly presses his lips to yours.

You've envisioned kissing Finn a bunch of times, his his soft kiss exceeds all your expectations.

As your lips move against Finn's slowly, you drop your arms. You hadn't realized that you crossed them over your very exposed chest while having that conversation with Finn.

The light kiss continues for a second before Finn pulls away and looks down at you. Even in heels, you're about five inches shorter that Finn's five foot eleven frame.

"Ya look absolutely stunning in that dress, Y/N," Finn says, complimenting you.

Your face turns a light red as you say, "You don't look too bad yourself, Finn. Is that what you're wearing to the ceremony tonight?"

He shakes his head and says, "I had a suit I was going to wear tonight but now, I don't think I'll be wearing it."

"Why won't you be wearing it?" you ask.

Finn says, "Because if ya think I'm going anywhere right now, you're crazy. I won't have time to go get the suit from my place and make it back here on time for the ceremony."

You glance at the time on the clock in the office. It's close to 3:30 now. You look back at Finn and say, "There's still about two hours before everyone starts to arrive for the ceremony. There's plenty of time to kill."

His eyes scan you as he says, "I plan on killing every second."

In one movement, his lips are back on yours. This time, they move more harshly and passionately than they did the first time. Your hands fly to cup Finn's face.

Finn's hands go to your thighs and he lifts you up, walking you over to his desk and setting you down gently on it. His tongue makes its way into your mouth as the kiss intensifies.

You find your fingers on the buttons of Finn's button-up after you pull the shirt up to untuck it from the waistband of his pants. Your fingers work to undo each button quickly but carefully.

He shrugs off the shirt and your hands run up and down his toned chest and abs. Finn's fingers are under the skirt of your dress as you kick off your heels. The digits slowly slide up your thighs, closer to your throbbing core. You are aching for him, just like you have all semester. Except now, you'll get the satisfaction of his fingers instead of yours.

The thought of Finn's fingers inside of you is enough to make you wet. Well, wetter than you already are. The white colored panties you're wearing are probably ruined at this point.

Finn's free hand works at sliding the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. The fabric falls, exposing your breasts to Finn.

He pulls back from the kiss to look at your exposed chest. "So beautiful," he mutters under his breath. "All mine."

Finn pushes you back on his desk and stands between your legs as he starts to kiss and suck on each breast. You let out soft sighs as your core starts to pulsate again.

You need Finn to touch you before you explode.

"Finn," you gasp.

He looks up at you with his eyes and he asks, "Something wrong, my love?"

You swallow and say, "I need you to touch me. Down there. Please"

Finn crouches down in front of his desk between your legs. "Of course," he says, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties. "Already so wet for me."

"Only for you," you sigh as Finn runs a finger over your clothed core.

He takes the waistband of your pantie in his fingers and pulls them down slowly, almost teasingly. He sees just how wet you are. Your folds are soaked with arousal.

Finn kisses your thighs and says, "I've always wondered what you've tasted like."

You throw your legs over Finn's shoulder and say, "I want your tongue. Please." Desperation is laced in your voice.

He smirks and runs his tongue slowly through your folds. You gasp and smile. He sucks on your clit for a second before swirling his tongue around it. You feel him push a finger inside of you, making you moan softly. Finn moves the digit slowly, teasing you.

You reach down and run your fingers through Finn's short hair as his finger speeds up. He soon adds a second finger. He stands back up, hovering over you as he fingers you. You're a moaning mess beneath Finn's touch.

Finn kisses your neck gently as he moves his fingers a little faster. Your body jerks under his touch occasionally as you're pulled closer and closer to your pending orgasm.

"Ya taste so good," Finn says against your neck. "And ya take my fingers so well."

Your fingers run up and down his back lightly as he speeds up his fingers, adding a third one. You gasp and moan as his fingers move inside of you.

Right as you're about to reach your orgasm, Finn pulls his fingers out and you whine. He sucks on the three digits he had inside of you before he says, "Get on your knees for me, my love."

You nod and get off the desk. You get on your knees in front of Finn. You reach up and start to undo the button on his pants. You pull down the article of clothing and run your finger over Finn's hard member. You free him from his boxers. You're shocked by the size of Finn's member. You knew he was packing but not this much.

You take Finn in your hand and pump him a few times before you take him in your mouth. You start slow and shallow before eventually taking most of him in your mouth. You move your head, sucking occasionally. Finn starts to thrust into your mouth as saliva drips down your chin.

Finn groans softly as you suck him off, but it's not long before he stands you up and his lips are on yours. You push the dress off your body, stepping out of it.

He turns you around so your butt is pressed against his erect member. He gropes your breasts and kisses your neck. You gasp and moan as his member runs through your folds.

You're bent over the desk and Finn spreads your legs apart. "Is this what ya want?" he asks.

"I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this bad before," you admit.

That's all Finn needs to hear before he pushes himself into you. You grasp onto the desk as he pulls out, only to thrust hard into you again, making you moan.

Finn's trusts are hard and deep from the beginning. He's waited a while for this moment, and so have you. He's not going to be gentle with you.

You pull your left leg up onto the desk and hold it, giving Finn more access. He thrusts harder and harder, making you moan loudly.

When Finn finds your g-spot, you let him know immediately. "Oh, Finn," you gasp. "Right there." He starts slamming into the spot over and over again, making you moan louder and louder.

After a few moments of this, Finn stands you up and turns you around, laying you on your back across the desk. He thrusts harder into this time and his lips are on your neck. You gasp and moan as he moves.

One of Finn's fingers rubs your clit as he thrusts hard into you.

You lift Finn's head up and kiss him roughly. Your tongues battle for dominance and his hand rests around your throat.

A thin layer of sweat has formed on both your bodies as he continues moving.

Your walls begin to clench around Finn and he pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours. "Come with me, princess," he says, out of breath.

"Tell me when," you gasp.

After a few more seconds of movement, Finn says, "Now."

The two of you come together. You let out soft moans and whines as Finn helps you ride out your climax. He collapses on top of you. The two of you sloppily kiss for a few seconds before detaching from each other.

Both you and Finn get dressed but the kissing and touching doesn't stop. You make your way to the love seat, where you lay and makeout with Finn until six.

He walks out of the building with you and walks you to your car. Other seniors have begun arriving by this time.

Finn says, "Come by my house around nine tonight. I'll show ya a real celebration then."

You stand in front of Finn and look up at him. "What will this mean for us?" you ask. "Will we get to see each other after I graduate?"

He says, "Let's cross that path once that graduation cap is in the air and you've officially graduated."

You giggle and nod. "I'll come by at nine," you say. "Tell me the address and I'll be there."

Finn tells you his address then says, "See ya when ya walk across the stage."

"I can't wait."

#finn balor imagine #finn balor smut #finn balor x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #wwe imagine #wwe smut #imagines #imagine #smut #nswf imagine

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schoolfullofmorons · 4 years

Note

petey lowkey having a crush on gary for a long time bc hes a pretty bad boy, but it takes some actual therapy and a small reunion for gary to feel some actual LONGING to have petey in his life again. he becomes surprisingly soft and supportive, in his own way, with their renewed friendship, and it takes jimmy casually promising to kick his ass if he messes up with petey for gary to realize he might actually have developed some romantic feelings for their friend. cue panic and breathing exercises

July, 2007.

Here he stood, on the threshold of hell on Earth, about to talk to Satan himself, and he still wasn't ready to run.

Well, maybe that wasn't entirely accurate. Pete Kowalski, rising junior of Bullworth Academy, was very prepared to run from the menace that had tortured him last year. Gary Smith, the mentally unstable asylum patient, waited for him just on the other side of this door.

His palms had grown hot with sweat, and he nervously wiped them off on his clean, ironed jeans. Pete hated having generalized anxiety disorder. It made him nervous even about this, even about coming here, which was literally his own choice to begin with. The thought of facing his once best friend filled him with a mounting dread that made his throat burn with the urge to cry.

But Pete wanted this. He was determined to get the answers he wanted, because Jimmy and him had been fucked over. And Jimmy might have brushed his hands of Gary, Jimmy might have decided that he was done caring, but Jimmy wasn't Pete and Pete cared way too much. He needed to know why Gary had ditched them, betrayed them, left them to rot. He wanted to know the cause of all this.

And, deep down, maybe he missed Gary, too.

He had been standing there too long, staring at the door. Pete knew if he didn't act soon, the orderly that had trailed behind him would get annoyed. Licking his lips and swallowing down his own anxiety, he pushed open the door, letting the orderly shut it behind him.

And there he was, the mastermind himself.

Gary was so... different, in here, but in reality he still looked like a Smith. All sharp jawlines and piercing stares. When Gary rose his head to look at him, hair that was growing slightly shabby due to a month of no cuts falling into his face, Pete felt his heart skip a beat.

And then a grin passed over his face, his eyes lighting up with genuine joy. He launched himself off of the small white cot all asylum patients had been provided, and sauntered over to Pete with slow, calculated steps. Too proud and too arrogant for someone who was incarcerated.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Did Petey Kowalski decide to pay lil' ol' me a visit? The big, bad, awful wolf, Gary Smith?" Gary's words cut into him, and Pete felt the urge to wipe his hands off on his jeans again. His friend's eyes bore into him.

Why'd you do it? Was the question that sat on Pete's tongue, but instead he cleared his throat and avoided Gary's eyes. "I... wanted to check up on you. Y'know, see how you were holding up."

"Oh, look at that! He cares about me!" Gary reached out to sling an arm around him, bringing Pete in close with a sharp jerk that had Pete yelping. "Did somebody miss me? Just couldn't sleep at night knowing I was away, could you?"

"No, I-"

"I already knew you weren't straight, but this is taking it to a whole new level."

The protest died away on Pete's tongue and he swallowed as the familiar burning sensation hit the back of his throat. When he didn't get an answer, Gary huffed and shoved him, hard. Pete stumbled, hitting the cell wall and sliding down it.

"God, you're pathetic." Gary spat.

"Why do you have to be an asshole all the time, Gary?" Pete snapped, and in one sudden rush, angry words bubbled up and out of him. "For once in your life, can't you just accept that you're the one in the wrong? You're in a cell, for god's sake! Don't you realize that I'm the only one left who doesn't want you to drop dead? Half the school pities you and the other half hates you! You destroyed our lives! You took away our peace! You don't get to be calling me the pathetic one!"

The room fell silent enough to hear a pen drop. The air around the two boys grew thicker, and thicker, and thicker still with tension. Pete risked a glance at the boy who stood looming in front of him. He had to swallow back fear as he noticed Gary's hands were clenched so tight that the skin was starting to turn white.

Pete pushed himself to his feet, slowly, unwilling to startle Gary. If he moved too fast he was afraid that Gary would snap. A predator in a hunting crouch, moments away from delivering the killing bite. That's what Gary was.

"You know, I used to like you. I used to want you around. I used to think you were smart, and funny, and cool. But now you just remind me of a... a walking toddler, who throws a temper tantrum when he doesn't get his way. I hope you get better, Gary. I hope you get the help you need so you can finally grow up."

Pete sidestepped Gary, who had yet to move except for his head, his eyes slowly following Pete back towards the doorway. Pete opened the cell door and looked back one more time, meeting eyes with the person he once considered his best friend.

And then he left.

September, 2008.

To the parents of Gary Alexander Smith,

I am writing to you to inform you that your son has completed rehab. According to his court order, this is the final step needed in order for him to be released back to the public.

Please note that he will still have to check in weekly with a nurse that will ensure he is still taking his medication. This will no longer be a requirement after his 100 hours of community service is over.

With this in mind, we will be releasing him on the 8th at 3 PM. We require a signature before his release in order to ensure that he is in the proper hands of his guardians.

Thank you for your time,

Happy Volts staff.

The reunion with his parents was about as happy as you'd expect with parents as terrible as his. Really, they didn't talk much through the entire thing; it was pick him up, take him home, and let him clean himself up before they had dinner.

It was the first meal that he had had in a long ass time that was actually good, instead of being almost edible. He really did have a newfound appreciation of his maids after that, though he'd never admit it to them out loud.

The thing about spending a year away from home is that it caused him to reflect on things he could have done differently. It also made him realize that a lot of the shit he had done his sophomore year simply didn't... matter. Maybe it was the medication, and the advice of actual doctors from the state after being transferred from Volts and their terrible medical department, but Gary was beginning to see things in ways he had never thought to see them in before.

For example, he was pretty sure Jimmy had never said anything all that terrible to him. Where had he gotten that idea from? Yeah, some of it was an addiction to power, but he was pretty sure the other part was perceived rejection. Learning about rejection sensitive dysphoria really did help him out in a lot of ways. He just wished it had been explained to him sooner, before, y'know, he betrayed all of his closest pals because of an inexplainable fear that they hated his guts.

(Which now they probably did. Go figure. Pete's words still ate at him when he tried to sleep at night).

That didn't matter as much now, anyway. He wanted to know what he'd be doing. He wasn't trapped anymore, with only medical professionals and other patients that had, admittedly, been really kind to him when they weren't Bullworth Branded(tm). He wanted to know what his future would be like, now that his head was much clearer.

When he asked his father, the response he got didn't surprise him much.

"We've decided to respect Crabblesnitch's decision and homeschool you. It'll be best, in order to prevent anymore... incidents."

And so began the process of sleeping, waking up, eating, being immersed into various studies by a freshly hired tutor with a bitchy voice that Gary tried very hard not to snap at, eating again, and going back to sleep. This pattern only broke on days where he had been assigned community service, or had an appointment with his psychologist.

As the days went on, he began to make the effort to expose himself to the outside world. Being locked up made him unusually skittish around people, and he was still having trouble getting used to the crowd that was his father's staff. This led to him climbing onto the roof of his father's house as he watched the sun dip steadily over the horizon after a long day of studies.

Being in high places had been a huge comfort when he was a child. He liked to watch the world, and he liked to feel in control by being able to see his surroundings. His friends would occasionally join him. He had many memories of Pete's smile catching on the sunset, or his nervous expression watching him as Gary got too close to the edge.

This was their place first, before it became his and Jimmy's. He wondered, briefly, if Jimmy still thought of their battle as often as Gary did, or if Gary just did that because it was the last substantial thing he had ever done with himself before the lock-up.

He really missed those two.

He got it, though. He couldn't have them back in his life. They had both kicked him out, and that was his own doing. He had hurt them, and he might regret it, but he had to let go.

He just didn't know how, when he didn't have anyone else.

December, 2008.

He finished his community service. Christmas break came, and since he had been working so hard on catching up with his junior year studies, his father had allowed him to take it off for himself. He was grateful at the idea of a break; he had been working tirelessly, and was nearly three quarters of a way through his junior year. He wanted to catch up to his senior year already, so that he could graduate in May like the rest of the Class of 2009.

Suddenly filled with free time that he did not want taken up by family, Gary found himself wandering into town more than he had previously. At first he didn't go far, but as the days passed he found himself going on longer strolls until he found himself deep in the heart of Bullworth Vale.

He should have known it would be easy to be spotted there, considering the gym was a hotspot for prep activity. Jimmy's lighthouse was also down here, causing Gary to avoid that spot as much as he could.

It was a smart idea, by all means. Unfortunately for Gary, however, Jimmy was king, and the preps told him everything. Especially Gord, who he'd had an on-and-off relationship with for a few years now.

That's what led to his peaceful stroll being interrupted by a massive fist slamming his head into the side of a brick wall, so hard that his ears rang.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Came a familiar voice in his ear, and his blood ran cold.

"James." Gary grunted into the brick wall. He tried to lift his head up, but was deemed unsuccessful when Jimmy's fist jerked him back down, causing him to wince. "What is it you want? I was busy."

"Busy doing what? Making the smiles of tiny children disappear?"

Gary had to remind himself that Jimmy was completely justified in this reaction, but it was hard when his cheek was beginning to fucking bleed.

"Get off."

"Not until you tell me what you're doing out of jail where you were supposed to rot."

"I got released! I finished the stupid program, okay? Let me go!" Gary hissed, and to his surprise, Jimmy did.

"What program are you talking about?" Jimmy asked, crossing his arms. Gary rubbed the grit off his face and took a moment to let his eyes wander over Jimmy's freckles.

Jesus, he forgot just how many James had. He was like a freckled forest.

"Technically a bunch of different programs... rehab was one, and I went through some community service hours." Gary shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm out now."

Jimmy's face contorted into three different expressions of confused anger, and Gary had to stop himself from laughing out loud at it.

"Like hell you're coming back to Bullworth-"

"I'm not, actually. I'm being homeschooled." Gary replied, smug at his one-up despite his best efforts not to be. It was just easy to feel smug around Hopkins.

(He wondered, briefly, why he wasn't downright pissed at Jimmy for sophomore year; but it had been a long time since then, and Gary was different, more different than he'd ever been).

"What? How long has that been going on?"

"Since September." Gary told him.

"Oh. Wow."

The two of them stood in an almost awkward silence, and Gary flicked his eyes over to watch the road as cars passed by. He had almost zoned out when Jimmy spoke again.

"So, what? Are you scheming to get back in?" When Gary turned his eyes back to Jimmy, the shorter boy was squinting at him, looking suspicious.

"No." Gary said, honest. "I'm not going to bother you, either, if that's what you're going to ask."

"Why? Not that I don't appreciate your kindness or whatever. I'm just trying to understand."

"I get it, don't worry." Gary shrugged and sighed, turning on his heel to face the road. "Honestly? I've had a lot of time to think. And... I messed up with the two of you. Bad. I don't want to pressure you into having to deal with me again, because, well... I fucked up your lives. I understand that now, I understand how bad it was back then for you. I wasn't going to seek you out, but I suppose thinking that I could hide from you forever wasn't necessarily the brightest idea."

"I can't believe this." Jimmy mumbled. "Gary Smith? Showing remorse? Who would of thought."

"Yeah." Gary said, quietly. "Wild idea, for sure."

The two boys stood looking at the cars in a slightly more comfortable silence. It had started to lightly snow, and Gary rubbed his gloved hands together to create the idea of warmth before he half-froze to death.

"I don't know if I forgive you, you know." Jimmy spoke.

"Yeah, I figured." Gary murmured. "And you don't have to."

"I think if you're putting in the effort, I'd like to forgive you." Jimmy told him, and Gary turned his head, regarding him with surprise.

"What you did was... terrible, to be frank, but I've seen worse. You weren't all that bad, back before the fight with Russell." He shrugged and Gary continued to stare. Jimmy had liked their friendship? It felt like a crazy idea.

"And I think... I think Petey really misses you, too." Jimmy shifted to glance at him. "He... told me, about your fight."

Gary didn't like thinking about it, much less talking about it. He clenched his hands into slight fists and let out a small huff. "Really? Man..."

"Its fine, really. I mean, I was pissed at the time and so was he, but I think he just misses you now." Jimmy turned his whole body towards Gary, suddenly furrowing his brow. "Hey, give me your hand."

"What?" Gary frowned. "No, get your own hand to hold."

"I'm not tryna flirt with you, dumbass. I'm gonna write Pete's number on your arm."

"Pete's - what?"

"You should apologize to him." Jimmy said, matter-of-factly. Bewildered, Gary handed Jimmy his hand. Jimmy took a pen out of his pocket and uncapped it, scribbling a hasty number on his wrist, just above his glove.

"Pete's parents had enough money to get him a cell phone. He can answer texts but texting back is a slow process so he prefers to call." Jimmy pocketed his pen. "I'm sure you two can work it out for yourselves though."

"Why are you giving this to me? I thought you hated me." Gary asked him, pulling his arm back to run his fingers over the messy digits that were gracing his skin.

"I never hated you, to be honest." Jimmy told him. "I was mad, but I never hated you. I was always rooting for you, Gary."

"I see." Gary replied. "Thank you, then, James."

"Of course." Jimmy clapped him over the back, causing him to stumble. "See ya around, crazy man."

He went home with black ink on his wrist and the words I was always rooting for you stuck in his head on repeat.

January, 2009.

Gary procrastinated all of Christmas break away thinking about calling Pete.

He didn't know why the task was bothering him so much. It hadn't been difficult to apologize to Jimmy, but then again, he knew he had been wrong about Jimmy going into it. Admitting to himself that he had no idea what Pete thought of him was a different challenge that was taking a lot of effort to push through.

There was also the part of Gary that had finally, finally let him accept that he missed Pete. And now he was getting a second chance with him, to fix things. To make things right.

He really, really didn't want to screw things up. That's why he was having so much trouble with this one, stupid, idiotic phone call.

(Rejection sensitive dysphoria, thou is a heartless bitch).

He was once again by the house phone, twirling the wire around his finger as he held it up to his ear. He chewed on his lip as he continued what had become a daily debate in his head: to call, or not to call?

Fuck it, he said, and dialed the number.

Pete picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

Gary took in a sharp breath as the static in his head got louder. Was this a good idea? Probably not. Why did he trust Jimmy? Jimmy was a moron, how would he know what Pete thought?

"Hello? Is this a prank caller?" Pete asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"No!" Gary spoke and then cleared his throat. "No, uh, its-"

"Gary? Is that you?"

"Yes! Yes."

"Holy crap, I thought you were still in-?"

"No, I got released a few months ago. I ran into Jimmy and he said you've missed me, so-"

"If this is going to be another teasing session about how 'homosexual' I am, I swear I will end this call right-"

"No no no, its the opposite actually. I wanted to apologize."

The line fell silent, and Gary shifted from foot to foot as nerves raced through him. Pointless restless energy. Only ADHD things.

"Look, I really messed up with you."

"Uh-huh. I know."

"And I wanted to say I really, really regret it. You were one of my best friends."

"And?"

"And I'm sorry. You deserved so much better than how I treated you."

Another silence. There was a noise as if someone had sat down a dish. "Listen, if you expect me to just accept, then I don't think I can do that."

Gary's finger twitched and he rested his head back on the wall. "I understand."

"But I'll give you the chance to prove that I should accept." Pete's voice was quieter now. "You just... you just have to prove it to me through actions, not say sorry and go right back to being a jerk."

"Yeah." Gary said, equally as quiet.

"Do you want to meet up sometime? To catch up?" Pete asked, and Gary had to fight to keep down the grin spreading over his face.

"I'd like that," he answered.

He might not have been forgiven yet, but he'd take what he could get.

They made plans to meet at a small cafe just outside of Bullworth Vale that following Thursday.

Pete Kowalski, senior of Bullworth Academy, sat in the quiet coffee shop that he had recommended for his and Gary's little "outing."

He had brought his laptop, as he had an essay due for his current English class and like hell was he going to pass up an opportunity to write it in a quiet space. He had actually arrived early in order to start it, since he knew Gary liked to ramble on, and he wanted to get some work done before he was interrupted.

He also wanted to think, which he had been doing between writing paragraphs analyzing the societal symbolism in The Scarlet Letter. His thoughts were turned towards the boy who he was currently meeting today, his good friend, Gary Smith.

He had missed Gary, if he were being honest. That didn't make him any less bitter about the things Gary had done to him, but it was still a cemented fact nonetheless. Gary Smith just... felt like his own addiction. Once you were around him once, he wouldn't get out of your head, and you wanted to see him again and again.

So Pete had decided to meet him here.

Of course, Pete wasn't stupid by any means. If Gary showed up acting like he had the last time they met, Pete would end all arrangements here. But Gary had shown... actual remorse. It was more than he had seen from him in a long time.

He just, really hoped it would work out well.

When the time came for him to show, the small bell over the door rang, signifying that someone had entered the coffee shop. Pete lifted his eyes and was immediately faced with the boy he had been crushing on for a good few years now.

Gary Smith, although he looked significantly less Smith(tm) now, his facial features softened but what could only be newfound maturity. Gary's brown eyes scanned the room and landed on him, and Pete swore his heart fell into his throat.

He was just so handsome. It wasn't fair, when Pete was supposed to be angry at his dumbass.

Gary approached the table, a lot less intimidating in his stride but still as confident as ever. The closer he got, the more his face cracked into a grin, sporting the gap in his teeth.

"Petey. Long time, no see!"

Pete couldn't help but smile faintly. "Hey. Go ahead and take a seat."

Gary slid into the table opposite from him and reached over to grab Pete's cup of coffee without warning. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same. That's my coffee, Gare." Pete huffed and watched as Gary froze halfway to putting the cup to his mouth. A red blush spread over his face and he grumbled, setting the cup down.

"Yeah, sure. Don't share then."

"Don't be a dick. And I'm working on my English essay, to answer your question."

"Essays aren't too hard to write as long as you can focus on them."

"Well, yeah." Pete shrugged and looked down at the computer. He knew Gary had pretty much a natural talent at anything academic. "It just takes up a lot of time."

"What's the essay on?"

"The Scarlet Letter. You ever read that book?"

"Duh? Everyone in our grade has read that stupid ass novel. Its notorious for being boring." Gary rolled his eyes and Pete cracked a smile.

"Yeah, it honestly is. Doesn't stop the teacher from assigning it, though."

"Did you get Galloway again?"

"Nah. Got an actual competent teacher who makes us do stuff."

"Oh, I bet Bullworth isn't taking that one well." Gary smirked and leaned forward. He practically radiated smugness. "How has it been, with ol' James Bitchfucker Hopkins there to rule it?"

"You know, you could be nice to him for once instead of insulting him every other sentence." Petey chastised and rolled his eyes.

"Its our dynamic, Peter. Gotta insult him before the weirdos think I'm getting soft on him." Gary laughed. "Now answer the question."

"Yeah, yeah. Bossy." Pete looked at the words on his screen and then sighed, closing his laptop. Seems his work time was over. "Things have calmed down a lot, actually... the cliques all kind of kiss up to Jimmy, and in turn he settles all their disputes for pocket cash before they can get too violent. Its honestly kind of nice?... A lot of people have, uh, come out recently, and Jimmy's been beating up people who make fun of them."

"Come out?" Gary eyed him. Pete wasn't sure if he was making up the accusation in the burning stare or not. "As in...?"

"Gay, of course." Pete's cheeks burned. He almost wished he hadn't brought it up. "Jimmy is - he's bi, you know? He's been talking to a lot of kids who have come to them about their sexuality, like, um, Mandy-"

"Mandy??? The girl who is always clinging to a guy?"

"She doesn't do that anymore. She even talks to the nerds now, sometimes. As in, like, nicely." Pete shrugged and shifted. "She, she came out as a lesbian."

"What the hell." Gary furrowed his brow. "Did Jimmy put queer shit in the water?"

"Gary, don't say that, its rude. And no, Jimmy just..." Pete chewed his bottom lip and smiled. "He's supportive."

Gary pursed his mouth into a tight frown and Pete narrowed his eyes, his smile falling. "If you say something homophobic, I will cut you."

"Jesus, Pete, I leave you alone for a year and a half and you turn into the sass master. No, I wasn't going to say anything homophobic." He scoffed and turned his head to the side, purposefully ignoring Pete. Pete felt his cheeks burn.

"Okay, well, I just - wanted to make sure. Since, you know. I'm bisexual."

Gary snapped his head around to stare at Pete, and Pete felt his cheeks grow darker. "Stop looking so surprised. You already suspected it."

"I thought - I didn't - what?"

"Weren't you the one to call out the fact that I stared at boys for too long, repeatedly, for years?"

"I never thought you'd actually admit to it."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have if I'd had stayed around you." Pete said, coming off colder than he meant to. When Gary's face fell, he blushed and put his hands up. "I- shit, I didn't mean it like that, don't get upset. I just... you weren't the most accepting, Gary. I needed someone who would be so that I could experiment without feeling dirty."

Gary stared at him and then glanced out the window, huffing and setting his face in a tight line. "Yeah, okay. I get it. You don't have to explain."

"So... are you okay with it?"

"Obviously." Gary turned a glare at him, looking annoyed at the implications, and Pete smiled softly.

"Cool."

The two boys fell into a familiar routine after that, with Gary visiting the coffee shop after class on Wednesday to talk. On weekends, when he had nothing to do, he would call up Pete or Jimmy - sometimes even both of them - and they'd walk along the train tracks, talking as they relaxed in the quiet wilderness.

It was nice.

February, 2009.

"So I was like, dude, can you shut up already and give me the dang pencil? I don't care if it has MLP on it."

Gary snorted. "Is it really that surprising that Trent was into MLP?"

"No! That's why I didn't give a shit!" Pete laughed from beside him, and Gary couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Pete's laughter was infectious.

Their shoes made crunching noises on the gravel as they walked along the train track. They had been walking like this for a good twenty minutes as they caught up on their week.

"Valentine's Day is coming up." Gary mused. "Do you have a date?"

"Who? Me? Pete Kowalski, the quiet kid? Please." Pete chuckled softly, but it sounded sad more than anything.

"Hey, I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt." Gary teased and gently shoved him. "Do you have anyone you want to date?"

"What, like a crush?"

"Yeah."

"Well..." Pete hesitated.

"You do have someone." Gary grinned as Pete returned to his side. "Who is it? Don't tell me its MLP boy."

"Trent? Ew, no. I'm not Jimmy, man."

"Is it Jimmy?"

"What?"

"Is it Hopkins?" Gary rose an eyebrow. Pete blinked, seeming caught off guard.

"No, of course not. I mean, Jimmy is cool and all, but..." Pete shrugged and glanced away. "I just, like someone else."

"Who, then?"

"Why do you want to know so bad?"

"Because I'm curious. Bite me."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Satisfaction brought it back. Just tell me, Pete, please?"

"I..." Pete stopped abruptly and Gary turned, alarmed as a frown made its way on Pete's face. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Well, that's not weird at all. Gary let his eyes roll up and down Pete's figure, reading his body language (which screamed I'M SAD! in all caps), and then sighed. "Okay."

"Thanks." Pete smiled softly.

Gary wondered just why it bothered him so much in the days to follow.

Gary finished his junior year assignments and started his senior year courseload, feeling a lot happier now that he was in the proper grade level, even if he was behind by a small margin.

Despite that, his thoughts were mostly on one person: Pete.

For some reason, it bothered him knowing that Pete had a crush. Especially one that he wouldn't tell Gary about.

It felt like... this strange mix of anger, worry, and sad that Gary wasn't quite able to process.

Mostly because it felt an awful lot like jealousy, and he was not going to be jealous over Pete Kowalski, especially considering that had even deeper implications such as the idea that he might not be as heterosexual as he once thought.

Not that he had ever been attracted to girls, which... honestly, confused him more. Did that mean he was gay? But it couldn't. He hadn't ever been attracted to anyone except Pete. Maybe he wasn't... anything. Maybe he was just Gary.

Did sexuality have to be as labeled as Pete and Jimmy's? And, fuck, why was he even considering this in the first place, he so totally did not have a crush on Pete because he was NOT jealous.

A loud snap brought him out of his thoughts, and he realized he had broken his pencil. Fuck.

March, 2009.

February passed with little to offer. Valentine's Day found Gary wandering Bullworth Vale - Pete said he didn't feel like leaving the house, and Jimmy had a date. Overall, it was uneventful, except for the fact that Gary couldn't stop thinking about Pete.

Spring break would be coming up, the first week of April. Jimmy had suggested that they go camping by the train tracks. Gary had agreed, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart when he thought of Pete being there, sharing a tent with him.

April, 2009.

"Tent building is hard." Gary breathed out heavily as he leaned across a nearby tree.

"Lazy ass." Jimmy passed him with some firewood in his arms, hitting Gary lightly over the head. Gary rose an arm to shove his hand away.

"Shut up. Pete's complaining too." Gary pouted.

"Pete's different." Jimmy passed said boy, who was sitting on a treestump, and gave him a friendly smile. Gary felt jealousy pulse through his veins.

Okay, so he had accepted he was jealous. But that didn't mean anything. So.

"Pete's a loser." Gary retorted and playfully smirked at the boy, who rolled his eyes.

They had spent the first hour or so setting up camp before the sun went down. It had made two out of three of them tired, with Jimmy being unable to feel exhaustion ever.

As Jimmy began to build the campfire, Gary moved from the tree he was leaning against to settle next to Pete. His heart beat hard in his chest as their knees brushed.

"So, little Petey, are you ready for a night with the creepypastas?" Gary teased and shoved him lightly.

"Shut up. Its bad enough that you've been trying to get me into them without mentioning them here." Pete huffed at him, putting one hand up to shove his face away. Gary laughed, ignoring the tingle that ran through his skin where Pete's hand made contact.

"They're fun! Come on, your gay ass can't tell me you don't find at least one of them attractive."

"They kill people!"

"So?"

Pete opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of it, pouting instead. "Shut up."

Gary felt his face slip into a familiar grin. He let his eyes trail over Pete's face as the boy turned away to watch Jimmy, taking in his soft brown eyes. When he smiles he gets dimples...

He felt a burning stare pierce through him, and slowly turned his head to see Jimmy giving him a knowing look with a raised eyebrow. Gary felt panic shoot through him, but externally he kept his face in the same grin.

"Done yet, James?"

Jimmy studied him curiously and then looked back at the fire. "Yeah. Should be enough for the night."

"I brought stuff for smores." Pete smirked and moved away from Gary. He tried not to be disappointed at the distance.

"Hell yeah, we like, gotta roast marshies. That's the first fuckin' rule of camping." Jimmy smirked and sat down by the fire. The sun wasn't down yet, but it was steadily approaching the horizon - it would be sunset soon.

"Marshies?" Pete laughed. "Are you in grade school?"

"Hey, don't diss my flow. Marshies are the bomb, man."

"You're so weird." Gary rolled his eyes and Jimmy shrugged.

They spent the next few minutes unpacking the food, preparing to make dinner. The campsite they had picked out had a grill nearby, and Pete had brought burgers for them all to eat. Jimmy lit the grill and left Pete to cook as Gary stayed by the fire just a little ways off.

"Hey." Jimmy greeted, his voice quiet as he sat down next to Gary, moving to rest his hands on his knees. "I need to talk to you."

"What is it?" Gary rose an eyebrow. "Does Pete need help with something?"

"Nah, that little dude's got it all figured out. I was gonna grill but he insisted. He's had a fascination with cooking ever since his parents decided he was old enough to touch the stove." He chuckled and shrugged.

"Then what?" Gary pulled his knees to his chest, eyeing Jimmy out of the corner of his eye suspiciously.

"Look, man. I don't want to pry, since I know it isn't any of my buisness, but... I see the way you and Pete look at each other."

Gary felt his blood run cold, and he turned his head to look at his friend. "I don't know what you're-"

"Earlier you spent like fifteen seconds staring at his face man, you were practically swooning like a stupid schoolgirl. Its so blatantly obvious that you like him."

"I..." Gary was at a loss for words, panic rising up in his chest. "No, no no no I-"

"I'm not going to tell him or anything." Jimmy held his hands up. "I just want to say... if you mess up with him again, I'm gonna have to kick your ass, alright? So, don't."

"What?" Gary breathed out. No, no no, it can't be that obvious. I thought I was hiding it better than this, I can't like Pete, I can't.

"I'm rooting for the two of you. You two deserve to he happy and its obvious he likes you back, so..." Jimmy shrugged and then furrowed his brow. "Are you okay?"

Gary realised then that he was hyperventilating. "What? Yeah."

"Gary, man, take it easy." Jimmy reached out, hesitated an inch away from him, and then gently allowed his fingers to snag around Gary's wrist once he was allowed. "Look at me. Focus on my hand. Breathe in, breathe out."

Gary took in a deep breath, letting himself focused on the calloused feel of Jimmy's hand around his wrist. He released his breath, and looked at Jimmy. Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.

When he was calm enough, Jimmy let him go and nodded awkwardly. "You good?"

"Yeah." Gary muttered, embarrassment pooling in the pit of his stomach.

"So did I assume right?..." Jimmy murmured, keeping his voice low. Gary nodded, looking into the fire. The heat coming off of it soothed him.

"Really? Does that mean you're gay?"

"I... have no idea?" He could feel his face flushing. "Look, don't tell him, okay? I've only figured it out recently-"

"Recently? You've been looking at him like he's your princess ever since you came back into our lives."

"Don't tease me Hopkins, okay? Fuck you. I was in denial about it, it isn't every day that I actually like someone, let alone like them in that way."

"Yeah, yeah, you're an emotional robot, we get it." Jimmy rolled his eyes. "I won't tell him. But you should. He likes you back, I can tell."

Did he? Gary pursed his lips together and stared into the fire, choosing not to comment. But why would he?

He spent the rest of the night in bewilderment as they roasted "marshies," told horror stories, and eventually went to sleep in the tent. It was weird, sleeping beside Pete with the revelation he had just been presented, and he tried very hard not to freak out.

Eventually, morning came, and Gary got up, groggy from anxious sleep. They had to pack up and then they'd be heading back.

He really, really hated the disappointment he felt because of that.

May, 2009.

Gary decided that emotions were not something he was very strongly suited for.

He had been avoiding Pete, unsure how to feel about his conversation with Jimmy. Part of him still did not want to accept that he was capable of a crush, let alone a crush on a guy. (God, his father would be so pissed). The other part of him wanted to accept it and let go, because Pete was cute and smart and kind and... well, Pete.

As the month went on, Gary found himself missing Pete more and more. It was easy to cancel plans under the guise of schoolwork, but it was becoming excessive. And, well...

Maybe it was time for him to admit to himself that yeah, he was queer. He wasn't sure of the proper term (gay? bi? who knows) but he knew he was LGBTQ+ of some origin. And...

Well, Jimmy had given him a vote of confidence. Maybe he should just go for it.

He held off for a few weeks, but Gary was never one to deny himself what he really wanted. And he wanted Petey to look at him, more than anything.

He decided that he'd have to do this. It was time. And, readying himself, he began to devise a plan.

Pete had a burning frustration for all days dedicated to couples. He had always wanted to be a part of a relationship. It wasn't that he hated being single; he just... wanted to know what that connection was like. And, well, he also wanted to like someone that was actually obtainable for once.

Because of this, he tended to lock himself in his dorms during those days. And, here he was once again, in his dorm.

It was Prom Night, and Peter Kowalski had bought a new book to read to distract himself from the painful torture that is Being Single.

A knock on the door distracted him from Pip's adventure into newfound wealth. He stood up and went to answer it, curiousity pumping through him. Jimmy was the only one who ever came to his dorm, but Jimmy had told him he had a date tonight.

He opened the door to find Gary Smith there, a grin on his face and a suit in his hand. He was dressed in formal attire of his own, making Pete's heart skip a beat.

That is, until it hit him. "Gary? What are you doing here? You aren't allowed on school property."

Gary shrugged. "It isn't like the Prefects will care anyway. Its prom, Pete."

Okay, he had a point. "Still... do you have a date or something?"

Gary's grin widened. "Yes, actually." Abruptly, he shoved the suit into Pete's hands. "Get changed, we're going out."

"What?" Pete furrowed his brow. "But... what about your date?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you? We're going out. I already bought the suit for you and everything."

It clicked in Pete's head, and he flushed a bright red. "Oh!" He squeaked. "Okay!"

He went back in his room and quickly changed. He had not been expecting this, and part of him was still sure that it was a prank? (If it was, well, he'd deal with it later).

Pete stepped out of his room in the new suit. Gary's eyes scanned down over his body, and Pete flushed red, fidgeting nervously. "Is this... okay?"

"Its perfect." Gary told him, reaching out to grab his hand. Pete could see the faintest traces of red blush on Gary's face. "Let's go."

"Wait." Pete stopped him. Gary turned to him, looking annoyed. "For clarification. Are - are we dating now? Like, um, boyfriends."

Gary narrowed his eyes. "Ugh, that's such a stupid term."

"Well?"

"I guess. If you want to be b-words then I'm here for it." Gary glanced away from him.

Pete broke into a grin. "Okay." He said, very quiet, as happiness settled in his chest.

"Are you ready now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

#gary smith #pete kowalski #psychofluff #peter kowalski #petey kowalski #canis canem edit #cce #bully scholarship edition #bse #bully #long post #i tried putting a read more but tumblr hates me #ask #anon

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just-my-sickly-pride · 5 years

Text

Debut || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || you’re twenty years old, a full-time uni student, and you’re living out of home. money is tight. so, naturally, you decide to sell your virginity to the highest bidder. when you get an offer from some guy in his mid-thirties, you put on your nicest dress and head on over. but there’s a problem: he has no idea who you are, or why you’ve turned up at his house at nine o’clock at night. maybe things aren’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped. modern day au.

rating || explicit, with fluff dotted throughout. 18+ only. do not read if you are under eighteen. the age gap between reader and roger is sixteen years.

word count || about 17.7k.

author’s notes || welcome one and all to my very first fic on this blog! i pictured roger circa ‘85 (specifically live aid) for this fic. this fic is also dedicated to my friend and fellow mid-thirties-Roger enthusiast Jennifer @mrfahrenhcit (i couldn’t find a way to work in everything you asked, but i’ve saved some of them for the next roger fic that’s in the works). fun fact: this is the first reader fic where i’ve used ‘Y/N’. some people have said they’d had issues with this post being extremely slow to load, or the app has crashed - i think it’s just bc it’s so long, and i apologise for the inconvenience. [i am a proud member of the anti-cross-tagging club.]

masterlist

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more nervous before in your entire life. You’ve wiped your sweaty palms on your dress ten times in the past two minutes, and your heart hasn’t stopped racing from the moment you woke up this morning.

What are you doing? Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?

Well, that’s the thing. You know exactly what the fuck you’re doing.

You aren’t doing it out of embarrassment, or anything to do with pride. You don’t feel pressured, not by anyone, not even by society, fuck society, but you saw some dumb article about it – it was hardly even an article, just gossip – and it gave you the idea, and then you were doing some research about it, just for the money, it’s just for the money, you’ve been living out of home for two years now and life’s still kicking you in the ass, so why wouldn’t you do it for money, if you could? And you can. So you went onto some website and snooped around to check for at least some sign of legitimacy, and then, well, you were making an account, and you made an account, and uploaded some photos that you never thought you’d upload to the Internet, and, a couple weeks later, you found out that someone had chosen you. Chosen you.

And now here you are.

On your way to a strange man’s house.

To lose your virginity to him.

Because he’s paid for it.

Well, he’s paid half. The other half comes… after.

And you’re not nervous about the actual sex part, you suppose, but more about the fact that you’re going to a stranger’s house for sex. Does that make you a sex worker? Could you call someone who played guitar in one gig and got paid for it, but never got paid for it again, a musician?

Probably. But maybe that isn’t the best comparison.

You don’t know much about this guy. Just his address, his name, his age – thirty-six, could be worse, to be fair – and that he’s obviously got plenty of cash to spare. And he’s definitely not the sort of guy you want to have around. Seeing as, y’know, he’s paid a twenty-year-old virgin to have sex with him.

The Uber pulls up to a stop in front of a house. It’s dark outside, almost nine in the evening, so the house is hard to make out, but it’s quite a nice place, very white-picket-fence. Something out of a magazine catalogue about the suburbs. You thank your Uber driver and grab your oversized handbag, climbing out of the car.

You close the door behind you.

The Uber drives off.

And you’re alone on the sidewalk.

You hoist the handbag onto your shoulder. It’s got a couple of things you think you’ll need – condoms, lube, two change of clothes depending on what this guy is after. You think you look more than nice enough in your heels and tight, black dress, but just in case.

You glance at your phone, double-checking the address. You send a quick message to your best friend Justine: at the house. will keep u updated.

She’s the only one who knows; and she only knows because you figured that at least someone should know, if something goes wrong.

Good God, you’re hoping nothing goes wrong. Not in that way. Not in any way, really.

And again, you’re back to asking yourself what the fuck you’re doing.

You take a deep breath, and start heading up the front path.

Your hands are shaking by the time you reach the front step, but you force yourself to raise a fist and rap your knuckles on the door. The automatic porch light is yellow, and you can’t help but feel irked by how unflattering it is.

You can hear movement inside the house. A part of you is searching for the sound of kids, although God forbid there’s any to be heard. But a guy like this… Well, your first conclusion is that he’s looking for an affair.

You really don’t want to be some kind of mistress. But, you suppose, this is really just a business transaction, so you’re free of at least most of the guilt, right? All of it, if you actually have no idea if he’s married.

Please don’t mention your wife, you pray. Don’t implicate me or whatever.

Finally, the door opens, and you feel like you’re about to throw up your heart onto your feet. But you push it down, and drink in the man in front of you.

If you weren’t sure before if he was a dad, now it’s unmistakable. He’s slim, and reasonably tall – not remarkably so, but still tall – and he’s dressed in loose jeans and a blue flannel that he has rolled up to his elbows. His hair is blond, sort of shaggy, sort of spiky, like he spends his time running his hands through it. You idly wonder what it’d feel like in your hands. Guess you’ll find out soon enough.

But the thing that really knocks your socks off is the big blue eyes that blink at you, framed by eyelashes that you’d kill to have yourself. Those eyes flash down to your outfit, and then back up at your face.

Okay. Maybe this whole thing won’t be that bad at all.

You give him your most winning smile. “Hi,” you say in a way that you hope is both alluring and professional.

He blinks at you again. “Hi,” he says, his eyes wide. His gaze flits up and down your body, like he’s trying to compute what he’s seeing in front of him. “Um, hello. What, uh– Can I help you?”

His voice is soft, softer than you were expecting. Gentle, almost.

You lick your lips and shift your feet. “I’m, ah, Mandy. Are you Roger? Taylor?” Your name is fake, of course. You’re not sure about his. Not that it matters.

“Yes, that’s me,” Roger says. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh, I’m sorry, you’re, um, lovely, but I don’t think I know you.”

Huh. Odd. Is this a foreplay thing? “We have an appointment. You booked me two weeks ago, and you gave me this date and this time,” you prompt unsurely.

Roger’s brow crumples. “An… appointment?”

You feel your face starting to heat up. You almost ask if you have the right address, but no, you already know that he’s Roger Taylor, he’s the one who booked, so you must have it right. “Yeah,” you say. “You, um…” You lower your voice a touch. “You already paid in advance. This is pretty much a done deal, but I’m just here to fulfil my end of the bargain. And then, of course, you’ll have to pay me the other half.”

Roger’s starting to look a little pale now, and you’re not quite sure what to do with that. His eyes dart down to your outfit and back up to your face. “Pay you?” he says. “I’ve– what? I’ve paid you? What did I pay you? When?”

Now you’re both embarrassed, and confused, and well, this isn’t something you’d pictured going wrong.

You suddenly feel very exposed in your tight dress and heels.

“Uh.” You scratch behind your ear. “Like, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve booked me, and I’m here. And it wasn’t a small sum of money, so I doubt you’d want to…”

Roger’s mouth opens, and then closes, and opens again. “Oh, shit, hang on,” he says, his voice flat, “did I… Was this all booked and arranged two weeks ago on the Friday night?”

“Yes,” you say. “Why?”

Roger sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he moans. “For God’s…” He raises his head, and sighs again. “Look, um, Mandy, there’s been a big misunderstanding. I, um, went through a divorce, er, relatively recently, a few months ago, and I’ve been doing a bit of wallowing, I guess you could say, and my friends tried to cheer me up a fortnight ago on Friday by bringing round a few bottles of very nice whiskey and gin. I don’t remember a lot of that night, but, now that you mention it, I have some vague memory of my friends trying to get me to, you know, ‘move on’, and, um, I think they might have looked up… people online.”

Your ears are really burning now. “Oh,” you say.

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Roger adds. “You’re a…”

“Not really,” you blurt. “Kind of. It– oh, man.” You bite your bottom lip, hesitating, not quite sure how much to reveal about the situation. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Yes, I’m… from a website. But I’m not – this isn’t a living, or a side gig, or whatever. Not that it would matter if I was, because there’s nothing wrong with…” You shake your head. Stay on track. “It’s just a one-off. You paid me to… to take my virginity.”

You swear you can see Roger’s soul leaving his body in that moment. “You– I what?”

You shrug helplessly.

Roger takes a step back, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry for the confusion,” you say, and your stomach sinks further when a realisation comes to you. “I…” You swallow. Your mouth is dry. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t – The money you gave me. I’ve done this to help pay bills and rent and everything, and it’s already been used. A chunk of it, anyway. I can’t refund you. I’m really sorry.”

“No, God, don’t apologise,” Roger says. “You weren’t to know.” He shakes his head. “Fucking dickheads, the lot of them.” He looks to you, and warily inspects your face. “How old did you say you were?” His voice is small, like he’s scared of the answer.

“Twenty,” you reply, and his shoulders sag in relief.

“Thank God,” he says. “I mean, still, you’re so young, but at least you’re…”

“An adult?”

He nods, grimacing sheepishly. “I really am being honest when I say I don’t remember much of that night. My mates aren’t those sorts of people, but, well, who knows what they’d try to pull when they’re pissed.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say. “I look young for my age. But I am twenty.”

“No, I believe you,” Roger says quickly. “I’m not… No.”

You wipe your palms on your dress again. What now? Do you just go home? That wasn’t the cheapest Uber ride you’ve ever had. You were kind of relying on that extra money.

Roger seems equally at loss. “You– Did you have to travel far?”

“Not that far,” you say. “Forty minutes-ish.”

“Fuck,” Roger says. He puts his hands on his hips, and then drops them again. “What time is it? It’s nearly nine, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, about nine.”

“It’s late. You should be getting home.”

Your heart sinks. Wow. Okay. This is really just over like that. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you say. You take half a step back. “I’m really sorry about the– the, um, whole mix-up thing. And sorry about your divorce.”

Great. Real smooth.

“Thanks,” Roger says. He hesitates, and you’re about to turn and head back down the driveway, when he says, “How are you getting home? Did you drive?”

“Uh, no,” you say. “Uber.”

“Uber? God, no, sod that,” Roger says. “Let me…” He fumbles for something in his back pocket, but comes up empty. “Let me pay for it. I don’t– Can I pay you for it?”

“It’s all right,” you reassure him. “You’ve already given me– it’s okay.”

“No, please, I insist,” he says. “Should I– cash? I can give you cash. Or… transfer…” He rolls his eyes at himself, those pretty blue eyes that shouldn’t belong to a man his age, but somehow suit him perfectly. “God,” he mutters. “I usually have things more together than this, I promise. I’ve just been caught beyond off-guard.”

“Sorry,” you say again.

“It’s not your fault, really, I don’t– How could I blame you? You had no idea. I am going to murder my friends.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “Um. Okay. I’ve paid you before, haven’t I, if you got the deposit? How did I do it? I can just do it that way again.”

“You transferred it to me,” you say. You shift in your heels. Your feet are starting to ache.

“Let’s do it that way again, then,” Roger says. “I’ll just get my phone, sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” you say yet again, stopping him. “Don’t bother. I’ll– It’ll take me two minutes and then I can be on my way home.”

Roger hovers, and then says, “Can I– Did you want to wait inside? Or out on the steps? Could I get you some water, at least?”

You hesitate. “Um–”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” Roger blurts, and then he shakes his head. “Now it sounds like I am trying to do something. I’m not. Really. If you want, you can just wait here and I’ll go inside and leave you alone.”

You glance at your phone. You haven’t ordered the Uber yet, but you are pretty thirsty. You look back up to Roger. “Well, I already had it in my head that I was coming here to sleep with you, so I’m not really concerned about you trying anything,” you say. “Some water sounds nice, actually.”

Roger laughs. Like his voice, it’s unexpectedly soft, and it makes you smile.

“Um. Yes,” he says, glancing at his feet. “Well. Um, come on in, then.”

You head back up the path, and Roger steps aside to let you in.

You slip past him. He smells good.

His house, on the inside, is just as white-picket-fence as it is on the outside. Not the tidiest, but you suppose he wasn’t expecting company.

He seems to notice the slight mess the same moment you do, and he hurriedly darts forward to tidy up.

“Sorry,” he says.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say.

He bends down to grab an empty beer bottle from where it sits on the floor next to the couch. Nice ass.

Not that it matters. You aren’t sleeping with him anymore. But, to be fair, you are only human. Just because you’re no longer ordering doesn’t mean you can’t admire the menu.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting any guests, obviously,” Roger adds, half-jokingly.

You chuckle, and adjust your dress. Roger’s eyes flash down to your hands, then to your chest where you’ve pulled the dress down a little further in your adjustment, and then he quickly looks away, running his hand along his jaw.

“Uh, um,” he says. “Water? Um– take a seat, by the way. Feel free to sit…” He gestures vaguely around him. “Sit anywhere. Anywhere you like.”

“Um, okay,” you say, and hesitate, before awkwardly perching on his couch.

“Sorry, did you say you wanted water?” Roger says.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you say.

“Yeah, of course,” Roger says, and then disappears into the kitchen.

You breathe in a lungful of air and slowly let it out. Wow. Talk about an unexpected evening.

You take out your phone and message Justine. boy do I have a story to tell u.

She’s online, and she replies immediately. fuck what’s happened?? everything alright??

You bite your lip, considering how to reply. yeah I’m fine. the guy is super easy on the eyes, but there’s been a mix up and basically I am remaining firmly in the virgin zone for the foreseeable future lol.

You backspace and try again. yeah I’m fine. long story short I’m coming home. tell u about it when I get there.

is he ugly?? Justine replies, and you can’t help but smile in amusement.

oh no, that’s not the issue even a little bit, you reply.

“I’m assuming tap water is fine?” Roger says, reappearing with a glass of water, making you jump slightly and flip your phone face-down on your leg, as if he could somehow see the screen from across the room. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. I don’t really have anything else.”

“No, no, tap water is fine, thank you,” you say, and he hands the glass to you.

You take a sip.

Roger glances away, seemingly looking for something to do or something to say, as if the answer is written in the walls. He chews on his thumbnail.

Your mind scrambles to find something to say, but it feels like trying to eat soup with a fork.

“Is everything all right?” Roger asks suddenly, looking to you. “I know this is probably completely inappropriate, but… Well, paying for someone to…”

Your stomach sinks with embarrassment. “Oh,” you say. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just – could do with the money.”

“Of course, yeah,” Roger says hurriedly, nodding. “You’re at uni?”

“Yeah. And living out of home, so.”

“Right. Yeah, of course, I should’ve guessed. Sorry, that was…”

“No, it’s fine,” you say with a reassuring smile. You chuckle. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening like this.”

“No, no, it…” Roger smiles, and you feel every trace of oxygen leave your lungs, because wow, he’s attractive. “It’s a welcomed interruption, actually.”

“It is?”

“Well, all I had planned was to watch something shit on Netflix and drink beer,” Roger says, screwing up his nose. “Not exactly exciting.”

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” you say. “Sounds like they were big plans.”

Roger laughs, and your heart thuds against your ribcage. “The sort of plans that sound much nicer when you have company, I think.” He pauses. “Not that– not that I’m expecting you to–” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really, I’m not usually this… awkward.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” you say, shaking your head.

“I used to be a real ladies’ man, you know,” Roger says. “Back in the day. Before my wi– my ex-wife. And the kids.”

“Sure,” you say, drawling sarcastically.

Roger laughs again, a little surprised, but amused. “I was!” he insists. “I was picking up women left and right.”

“I believe you,” you say lightly.

Roger grins, and you have to take a steadying breath. “You’ve got a tongue on you, haven’t you?” he says delightedly.

“So it’s been said.”

It comes out more suggestive than you’d intended. Roger takes a moment to drink you in, and then he bites his bottom lip, looking away, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, the other one slipping under his shirt, massaging his shoulder.

Your stomach flips and jumps. You take a sip of water.

“You sure you’ve never been with anyone before?” Roger says.

You snort. “That’s a pretty rude question, don’t you think?”

Roger smiles sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

You take another sip of water, and then say, “I haven’t slept with anyone, no. I think I’d know if I had.”

“Right,” Roger says mildly, nodding.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking very loudly. Is there something wrong with me not having slept with anyone?”

“No,” Roger says, his eyes widening. “No, shit, that’s not what I was trying to say. It– you just seem… I’m just surprised. That someone like you…”

You adjust your dress again. Roger’s eyes drop to your breasts again, and back up to your face. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, trying not to preen.

Roger ponders over his answer for a while. “You just seem to… know what you want.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“Yeah,” Roger says noncommittally.

His eyes find yours, and they stay there. Your heart is racing in your chest now, making your blood feel warm. You’ve been attracted to plenty of people before, but this is really something else.

Roger clears his throat, breaking away, and you surreptitiously squeeze your thighs together.

Your phone buzzes on your thigh. It’s Justine. so he’s hot?

“Is that your Uber?” Roger asks. If you aren’t mistaken, he sounds almost disappointed.

Your cheeks grow hot. “Oh, um, I haven’t actually… I forgot to call it.”

“Oh,” Roger says. A tinge of relief? “Well, no rush.”

“It’s just my friend checking up on me,” you add.

“That’s good of them.”

“Yeah. Well, actually, she was checking up on me before. Now she’s just–” You open and close your mouth a few times, but decide to be honest. “Uh, she’s just, um, asking about you.”

Roger quirks an eyebrow, and it’s so hot that you have to look away. “About me?”

Your phone buzzes again. are you on ur way home now?

“Uh,” you say, and quickly type out, not yet.

“What have you told her?” Roger asks, playfully curious.

You put your phone down, and take a breath, smoothing your hands down your legs, thinking carefully of how to answer. “Just that you seem nice.”

“Nice?” Roger says.

“And you’re… Well.” You smirk. “I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. No point in boosting your ego too much.”

Roger steps forward, drawn to you by an invisible string. “I don’t think I understand,” he says faux-innocently.

“I’m sorry, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that you were pulling girls left and right?” you say, cocking your head.

“Oh, yeah, when I was twenty,” Roger says. “Not talking about now.”

“Have you tried?”

Roger pauses, slightly taken aback by this, and his eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks, blowing hair out of his cheeks. “You may have a point there.”

“And I suppose that’s why these friends of yours contacted me?”

“You… may have a point there,” Roger says again.

You nod to yourself. “I don’t see why they couldn’t have just taken you to a pub and set you up with someone there. It’d have been a lot cheaper.”

“They’ve, um…” Roger cards his hand through his hair. “They’ve tried that, actually.” He hesitates, and then walks over to you, sitting down on the armchair near you. “They’ve taken me out a couple of times.”

“And you’ve struck out?” you ask.

Roger chuckles. “No. I – well, like you said, I suppose I haven’t really tried. I didn’t want to.”

“Too soon?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” Roger pulls a face. “I don’t know. Haven’t felt like it, really. Maybe it was too soon. Or maybe the thought of having to try to chat someone up just seemed like so much effort.”

“Surely it wouldn’t be much effort for you.”

Roger meets your eyes again, and he smiles slowly, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

Your phone vibrates. The way Roger’s looking at you makes you wish it was something else vibrating that you could put to good use alone in your room.

Roger’s eyes flick down to the phone, and back up to your face. “That your friend again?”

You hesitate, and then flip the phone over. hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

“Yeah,” you say, and put the phone down beside you.

“You going to answer it?”

“In a minute.”

You smooth your hands down your thighs. Roger watches like a hawk.

Your hands slide back up your thighs.

He swallows.

You smile.

“You, um, you ever…” Roger tears his eyes away from your thighs to look at your face. “Have– have you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say casually. “Not for a long while, though. And nothing too serious. Nothing as full-on as marriage.”

Roger laughs, but it comes out sounding a bit strangled. “Yeah. That’s all right, though. That doesn’t matter.”

Your phone buzzes.

You ignore it.

“I never got around to… all of that,” you explain. “Y’know. Fucking.”

Roger’s face goes slack. “Uh–”

“I wasn’t waiting for anyone special,” you continue. Your blood feels electrified under his gaze. “Just never quite got there.”

“Never quite–?”

You hum. “That’s misleading. I’ve made out with plenty of people, but that’s all. Some over-the-clothes action. Basically nothing, really.”

Roger looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Uh-huh.”

“You probably find that hard to imagine,” you say with a wry smile. “Having kids and all. How old were you your first time?”

Roger blinks, and takes a moment to reply. “Uh, I was sixteen.”

You laugh. “God, I can’t even picture…” You frown, and shake your head. “It’s hard to picture what it’d be like, you know? The reality of it? You can watch as much porn as you like – and I’ve watched plenty, mind you – but, like, I know that it’s not real. Not realistic, anyway. I’ve spent what feels like ages just trying to picture what is actually is like, but it’s impossible for me to know.”

“It’s good,” Roger says, and it comes out in a rush, and he looks surprised at himself.

You feel a thrill go through you. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Roger says. “Everyone says your first time isn’t good, but that’s only if your partner doesn’t know what they’re doing. And it’s nice when you have an idea of what you’re doing, too, but that comes with time. And if you have a good teacher.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “But when the chemistry is right, and the mood is right, it’s… good.”

“That’s descriptive,” you murmur sarcastically.

Roger huffs a laugh. “What do you want, a detailed explanation? Graphs and illustrations?”

“A demonstration would be nice.”

Shit. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. Why the fuck did you say that?

Your eyes are wide, and you open and close your mouth a few times. “Uh.” Roger looks as surprised as you feel. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Wow. Is– is this part of the…”

You blink. “Part of the…?”

“The whole…” He gestures vaguely. “…thing. You being paid to…”

“Did I just make a complete idiot of myself as part of my attempt to woo you as a kind-of sex worker?” you ask. You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Nope. No. That was all me. Just being a dumbass.” You groan, covering your face. “I’m sorry,” you say from behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing.” This whole night has been nothing but a huge embarrassment. You can’t wait to go home and forget about it, thanks to an unhealthy dose of alcohol.

“I’m sorry,” Roger says.

You lower your hands. “For what?”

“For – I don’t know. I just felt I needed to apologise.”

You snort. “You don’t have to apologise for me very clumsily and awkwardly and horribly trying to flirt with you, Roger.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “You’re probably used to seeing that all the time.”

“Again, not for a very long time,” Roger says. “But I know what horrible and awkward flirting looks like, and… that wasn’t it.”

“But clumsy, though, right?” you say, screwing up your nose.

Roger chuckles. “Maybe. But that’s all right.” He shifts in his seat. “I was just as clumsy.”

You wave a hand, and reach for your phone. It’s high time you called your Uber. And reply to Justine. “You weren’t flirting with me.”

You re-read the messages from Justine you’re yet to reply to.

so hes hot?

are you on ur way home now?

hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

Then the new one, from a few minutes ago: for the love of god can u please reply to me. something. anything. I’ll take a solid thumbs-up.

So you send a thumbs-up.

When you look up, Roger is staring at you, and you realise he hasn’t spoken since you did.

You’ve well and truly crossed a line somewhere. You can’t blame him for wanting you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m just – my friend. I’ll get the Uber now. Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

“Don’t,” Roger says.

You pause. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t order the Uber.”

Your stomach bubbles. “Wh– No?”

“Not yet, at least,” Roger says. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I wasn’t flirting with you?”

“Why would you be?” you respond automatically.

“Why would…” Roger shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’m a random twenty-year-old woman who’s just shown up at your door on a Tuesday night dressed like this talking about how you paid to take my virginity,” you say bluntly. “Which is more than a little off-putting.”

“Well, all right, I’ll give you that,” Roger says. “But here I am, still trying to clumsily flirt with you nonetheless.”

You break out into a smile, a bashful one, and duck your head. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Roger repeats, a touch playfully.

You glance up at him. He’s smiling at you, pleased with your reaction, and the thought of kissing him flashes through your mind, and you’ve suddenly never wanted anything more. You purse your lips, looking at your hands again, fiddling with your phone, flipping it around and around in your grip.

“Mandy,” he says gently, and you’re puzzled for a moment before you remember –

“That’s, um, not my real name,” you tell him with an awkward chuckle. But you really like how he said it all the same.

Roger looks so embarrassed that you can’t help but laugh. “Here I was, trying to be all suave, and now I look like an idiot,” he says.

You shake your head. “You don’t. You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve guessed you weren’t using your real name.”

“No, it’s fine,” you giggle.

“Well, am I allowed to know your real name? So I can try again?”

You hesitate.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Roger says quickly. “That’s fine. Security, and all. Stranger danger.”

You laugh again. “Stranger danger? I’m in your house.”

“I could be a stalker. You don’t know that.”

Fuck, you’re attracted to him. “Dork,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Roger chuckles, his eyes sparkling.

“It’s [Y/N],” you add.

“[Y/N],” he repeats, and your breath catches ever so slightly. He pauses, and then comes to sit beside you on the couch, and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he says. “I’m Roger.”

You giggle, and take his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Roger.”

He’s so close now. He smells amazing, and his hand is warm, and his eyes are so blue, and his lips–

You realise you’ve been staring at his mouth, your hand still in his, and you glance back up at his eyes before quickly taking your hand back, looking away.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat. You’re barely aware of your own body – only his, and how close it is to yours. Like there’s a force between the two of you, connecting you. When he swallows and moves his hand back to his own lap, you can feel it as if it’s your own.

“Do you, um…” Roger takes a breath in, and you feel your chest, your lungs, buzz. “Tell me about yourself a bit.”

“Me?” you say, looking to him. Oh, wow, he really is close. Fucking hell, you want him.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you do for fun? Stuff like that?”

You lick your lips, and his eyes dart to the movement. “Um, well, I…” You absentmindedly adjust your dress, and it catches his eye again. “I’m at uni, in my second year. It’s all right. Pretty stressful, obviously, but I like it well enough. I live with two of my friends. I, um… I like… dogs.”

Roger laughs.

This is so stupid, you realise. You both clearly want each other.

You shake your head. “Stupid,” you mutter.

Roger frowns. “What’s stupid?”

“This,” you say. You gesture between the two of you for emphasis. “This.”

“Oh,” Roger says. He shifts away from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You huff. “You’re not.”

“Then what–”

“Kiss me,” you cut in.

Roger stops. “Kiss you?”

“Yes,” you say, keeping your gaze steady on his. “You’re too damn difficult to resist. So kiss me.”

Roger hesitates.

You raise your eyebrows. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No, I – I do,” he says. “I just…”

“What?”

“I feel like the circumstances… I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this because I’ve paid you to…”

“I don’t think that,” you say. “And I don’t want your money; this is way beyond that now. I’m not trying to trick you into sleeping with me so I can force you to pay me. I just know chemistry when I see it.”

Roger chuckles. “I was right,” he says. “You know exactly what you want.”

You steel your nerves. “Yeah,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I want you.”

Roger swallows. “But you don’t even know me.”

“Nope.”

“And you’re in my house.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m so much older than you.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re…”

“I’m a virgin,” you finish, nodding. “I know. But for the love of God, Roger, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to scream.”

Roger exhales, shakes his head minutely, and then says, “God fucking damn it,” and leans in to kiss you.

You immediately shift to press closer towards him, one hand coming to rest against his chest. He kisses you earnestly, but gently, like he’s nervous. Nervous about making you feel pressured, you can safely assume.

But that’s not what you’re about. You pull back, and, before he can say anything, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist, and kiss him again, more deeply than before. He breaks away just far enough to whisper, “Holy shit,” and then ducks his head to kiss down your throat. You tilt your head to give him more room, one hand against his chest and the other raking through his hair. His hands, rough and warm, smooth up your thighs, and your breath catches. They stop just under the hem of the dress, and a soft whine slips from your throat.

Roger moans in response. “Jesus Christ.”

You reach down and grab at his wrists, urging his hands to go further up the dress. “Touch me,” you pant.

He draws back, and you look down at him, at his slightly flushed cheeks and his ruffled hair, and you want him naked, right now. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “We can just make out, that’s absolutely fine. Just because of… the whole… arrangement…”

“Roger,” you say slowly, “I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

He nods, swallowing.

You cup his face in your hands, boring your eyes into his. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Right now.”

Roger takes a shaky breath. “Are you–”

“What did I just say?” you cut in. “Not repeating it.”

Roger smiles, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

You smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it most certainly is one, believe me.”

You lean in to kiss him, and his hands, thank the Lord, slide further up your thighs. You start unbuttoning his shirt, blindly, fumbling a little, and your kisses grow more eager.

You’ve kissed a number of people in your time. Not a whole lot, but a few. And Roger really takes the damn cake.

When his shirt is fully unbuttoned, untucked from his jeans, you move your lips down his neck, and he moans, letting his head roll back, his hands shifting to grab your ass, pulling you against him. You can feel the tent in his jeans, and, beyond thrilled, you grind against it, loving how a bolt of arousal shoots through you. Roger’s grip on you tightens, and when you nip at his skin, he spits out, “Fuck.”

You rock your hips against him again, and he laughs again. “God, it’s been too long.”

You hum, nipping his throat again and soothing it with your tongue. “How long is too long?”

“Months. Lost count. Ah, fuck.”

You pull back, giving him a look, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Try twenty years,” you say dryly.

Roger shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine.” He kisses you, just once, and then murmurs against your lips, “I promise I’ll make this good for you.”

You shiver. “I’m sure you will.”

“I mean it.” He kisses you again, and then sits back, his hands sliding back to your thighs and squeezing them gently. “I want this to be good for you. If I’m going to be your first, I want you to enjoy it. So you have to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I don’t care what it is we’re doing – you can tell me to stop at literally any point, and I will, no questions asked.”

You nod. “I know, I know.”

Roger chuckles. “You just really want to get things going, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You press your lips to his, and, now that you both know where things lie between you, you’re both eager to get to the next step. The kisses quickly become more feverish, hotter, deeper. Roger’s hands go to the back of your dress, working the zipper down your spine, and you shudder at the feeling of it. When he’s done, you sit back to yank it over your head, dropping it the floor behind you.

Roger’s eyes drink you in, his mouth hanging open. “Whoa.”

You flush under his gaze. You know you look good – you’d worn your push-up bra and matching lace underwear for a reason – but it’s still a rush to get a reaction like that.

“Bedroom?” Roger says, his voice a touch weak, and you nod, leaning in to steal one last kiss before climbing off him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. He groans slightly as he does so, and you giggle.

“I know, I know, I’m old,” he says.

“No, I like it,” you say, tugging him closer to you and hooking a finger of your other hand through a belt loop on his jeans. “Dad noises.”

Roger shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you lean into the touch. “Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “Makes me feel even older.”

“You’re not old,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even forty.”

Roger laughs. “Ah, yes, a real spring chicken.”

“Can you stop whining and fuck me already? I’m gonna be forty by the time we get to it.”

Roger snorts. “Cheeky.” He leans in to kiss you, and you curl your arms around his neck, pressing into him.

When you break apart, you take Roger’s hand again, and he leads you to his bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in the dark house. You’re only in your underwear, but you’re still wearing your heels, and you feel like you’re in some kind of Victoria Secret ad.

Roger keeps glancing back at you, his eyes sweeping your body, and he’s so distracted he almost runs into a wall at one point, and you have to tug on his arm to pull him out of the way, laughing as you do so. He retaliates by pushing you up against the wall and kissing you senseless, his thigh slotted between yours. You’re lightheaded and unbelievably turned on by the time he breaks away again, and it feels like a lifetime before you reach his bedroom.

Roger switches on the light.

The double bed is unmade, but the room itself is fairly tidy, just a pair of shoes and a shirt on the floor. The whole room screams tax-paying adult, and you’re reminded again that the man you’re about to sleep with is, in fact, a proper adult. Not like you, an adult by the loosest terms imaginable, but a fully-grown man with children and a mortgage and a career, probably. A completely different world to yours.

But none of that will matter when you’re both naked.

He closes the door behind him, and then you’re pouncing on him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and all but tearing his belt off. His hands are tight on your hips, and when you undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans, he pants, “Bed, bed, go sit on the bed.”

You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one knee over the other, taking the opportunity to quickly tie your hair back out of your face while and Roger fumbles with the rest of his clothes, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and jeans. You can tell that he would’ve been thin as a twig back in the day, and you’d easily call him slender even now, but his body is soft, the sign of a father who’s spent more time taking care of the kids and having a beer in the evenings to wind down than going to the gym. It suits him, looks good on him. You’re certainly a big fan.

Soon, he’s down to nothing but his boxer-briefs. His boxer-briefs, which are neon green.

You break out into a grin, and Roger looks down at them, sighing. “Of all the fucking pairs I could’ve put on today,” he mutters.

“They’re pretty great,” you say, and you make sure you have Roger’s full attention before you uncross your legs, spreading your knees wide, leaning back on your hands, “but I’m more interested in what’s underneath them.”

From the look on Roger’s face, you’d guess his legs are about to give out from under him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he huffs, and he hurries over.

Grinning, you scramble backwards on the bed, lying down, and he crawls after you, over you, and his kiss is bruising.

Your hands are shaking now – with excitement and with nerves, a lot of nerves – but you ignore that, and worm your fingers inside his underwear, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a tug.

He jerks, and you have a moment of panic where you think you’ve done the wrong thing, but then he kisses you with more fervour, so you do it again. This time, his hand finds yours, gently guiding you away.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask.

Roger looks confused for a moment, and then says, “God, no. I just don’t want to get too worked up before we get to, y’know, the main event.”

“Oh,” you say, smiling in relief.

“You really have no experience at all, do you?” Roger says, sounding almost disbelieving.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” you say. “It hasn’t all been some elaborate ruse to get into your pants. Literally all I have is some vague, theoretical ideas on how this works. And I know the mechanics. But that’s it. So you’re gonna have to be patient with me.”

“That’s fine by me,” Roger says. He chuckles. “It’ll make everything I do seem much more magical than it really is.”

“Sure,” you say mock-condescendingly.

Roger laughs, and he looks so wonderful when he’s laughing that you can’t help but smile, your hand reaching up to comb through his hair.

He notices the look in your eye, your smile, and he smiles back in a way that makes your stomach squirm and your fingers and toes tingle.

He kisses you, and the squirming in your stomach grows into full-blown butterflies, big Amazonian ones, and you begin to have an inkling that, oh no, this could be bad. This could be very bad indeed.

It’s probably nothing. He’s just hot, and nice, and funny, so you’re excited to have sex with him. That’s it. You’re a duckling that’s imprinted on its mother. Except you’re a human, and Roger’s the first person you’re having sex with, not your mother.

Not the best analogy you’ve come up with. You can’t blame yourself, though – the way Roger’s kissing you is turning your brain into mush.

He presses a kiss to just under your ear, and then kisses all the way down your throat, and you tilt your head back. “Feels so good,” you murmur.

You can feel Roger smile against your skin.

He keeps going, kissing the hollow at the base of your throat, further down still, and you bite your bottom lip. He presses a kiss to the top of your right breast, and then looks up at you. “Can I take your bra off?”

You nod eagerly, and he moves back so you can sit up. “Oh, I’ve still got my shoes on,” you said.

“I’ve noticed,” Roger says, and you chuckle.

“As super sexy as they are, I do wanna take them off,” you say.

Roger ducks forward to drop a kiss to your neck, and the butterflies are back, and you can feel your cheeks going pink. You want to hide your face, but Roger’s right there, and you can’t look away from his eyes. “How about you take your bra off,” he says, “and I’ll get your shoes.”

“You don’t have to take my shoes off for me,” you say.

“Well, I want to,” he says simply, and shuffles down, climbing off the bed. He gestures for you to shift forward, and you do, until your feet are hanging off the bed, your knees hooked over the edge. Roger gets onto his knees – he makes a dad noise as he does so, and you giggle again – and fiddles with the buckle on one of your shoes.

You take a moment to watch him, biting your lip, smiling, and then reach behind you and unhook your bra, slipping it from your shoulders.

He doesn’t look up right away, and you’re thankful for a moment to get your head around the fact that you’ve never been completely topless in front of anyone before. You’re self-conscious about the grooves the bra has dug into your skin, about the way your breasts look without the aid of the push-up, and you almost go to cross your arms over yourself, but then Roger glances up, and his hands go still. “Bloody hell,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice, unsure how else to respond.

Roger shakes his head, and focuses back on the shoe, making quick work of it and easing it off your foot, setting it down beside him. He moves onto the other shoe. “Talk about winning the fuckin’ lottery,” he says.

“I could say the same,” you say.

Roger stops again, looking to you, and then smiles, looking back to the shoe. His ears have gone red.

He takes the second shoe off and places it beside the first, then presses light kisses to the inside of your knee. He moves further up your leg, up your thigh, and you realise you’re holding your breath. His arms are curled around underneath your legs.

Roger looks up at you, his thick eyelashes making him look almost angelic. “Is this all right?” he says. “If I…?”

He’s asking if he can eat you out. Oh, God, he’s asking if he can eat you out. He wants to put his mouth and tongue there, and maybe his fingers, too, and no one’s ever done that before.

You nod eagerly. Maybe a little too eagerly, as Roger laughs.

You feel your stomach cave in on itself in embarrassment. “Actually, no thanks,” you say, trying to pull your legs back. “Changed my mind.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Roger says, still chuckling. He coaxes your legs back to where they were, and kisses your thigh. “It was just the look on your face.”

“You’re doing a terrible job of wooing me,” you say, aiming for resolute and chastising, but it comes out sounding more weedy and humiliated.

“I’m sorry,” Roger says again, and his hands stroke your legs soothingly. “I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed.” He smiles, a glint in his eye, and you’re momentarily left breathless. “Can I… make it up to you?”

You can’t help but smile back, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Cheesy.”

“Thank you,” Roger says. “I’m going to be honest, as fun as this banter is, my knees aren’t going to last forever.”

You splutter a laugh. “Yes, yes, okay, yes please.”

Roger surges up off the floor to press a firm kiss to your lips, and you take a moment to wonder just how dodgy his knees really are if he can do something like that, or whether he was just looking for a convenient segue into getting your underwear off. You’re not fussed either way.

Roger kisses your collarbone, and then pulls back, hooking his fingers into your underwear. “Lift your hips up for me, love?”

The pet name makes heat pool between your legs. Oh, Jesus.

“Mm-hm,” you say, hoping it sounds more nonchalant to him than it does to your own ears, and lie back to lift your hips, and he slides your underwear down your legs and drops them near your shoes.

You expect him to go back to his knees straight away, but he holds himself above you, kissing you, deep and slow, making you whimper into his mouth. One hand holds himself up, and the other one massages your hip, his thumb kneading your skin. Relaxing you, you realise. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, and you’re only partially aware when Roger’s hand moves from your hip to your thigh, brushing over your skin.

You’re extremely aware, however, when his fingers stroke through your folds for the first time.

Despite yourself, you jump, and Roger murmurs, “Sorry,” but you shake your head to dismiss his concerns, and pull him in again.

For a few moments it’s strange, feeling someone’s else hand there, and you’re very conscious of how wet you are, and you wonder if it’s something you should be embarrassed about, but then Roger circles your clit, and suddenly all your worries seem very far away.

It feels… good. Really fucking good. Roger’s fingers are rougher than yours, but they’re clearly experienced in how they move.

You push your hips up against Roger’s hand, wanting more, and Roger complies, his fingers moving just a touch more roughly, and he ducks his head to nuzzle at your throat, kissing it, nipping lightly.

“Oh, God,” you moan to the ceiling, overwhelmed already, and you almost laugh at how surprised you sound. Your hand grips Roger’s hair, and you hope it’s not too hard, but you couldn’t let go if you tried.

Then Roger’s hand is gone, and you let out a choked sound at the sudden stop. You try to gather your thoughts to ask why, but then Roger is kissing down your body. Oh, man, you think, unable to conjure up anything else, and Roger chuckles, and you realise you said it out loud, but you don’t have time to be embarrassed, as Roger takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth tugging at it, and you gasp.

“I’ve never… That’s new,” you say weakly, hissing when Roger runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple.

Roger pulls off to ask, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

“Good.” He goes back to his task, and you arch off the bed slightly.

“So good,” you breathe. Roger switches to the other nipple, and you moan appreciatively.

Eventually, both to your dismay and your excitement, he draws away, and presses a single kiss to the space between your breasts. “You’re fucking stunning,” he says, and then he moves back to climb off the bed, setting himself between your thighs.

You struggle to wrap your head around it. How he could be making you feel this good, and then still compliment you, as if you’ve done anything to deserve it?

Roger doesn’t waste time talking now. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and then he dives straight in, his tongue nudging your clit as it pushes through your folds. You suck in a sharp gasp, your hand gripping his hair tightly. Your other hand flails, grappling at the sheets as he starts to find a rhythm. You wind up pressing the back of it to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds you’re making, trying to gather some sort of control, because right now you feel like you’re falling head-first off a cliff, and Roger has complete power over how you land.

He does something with his mouth – you couldn’t tell for the life of you what it is – and your hips buck against your will. “Sorry,” you blurt out, and it comes out broken and breathless.

Roger just adjusts one of his arms, bracing it across your hips, holding you down, and you moan. His other hand joins his mouth, sliding a finger into you. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, and then your hand returns to its position, keeping you somewhat quieter.

It doesn’t take long before Roger’s working in a second finger, pumping them in and out of you, and the sound of it is so obscene that it makes your face go bright red. You’re climbing towards an orgasm, frighteningly quickly, and when a third finger squeezes in beside the first two, you very nearly come, but the sting of the stretch is enough to keep it at bay.

But then your body relaxes around the three fingers, and Roger crooks them just so and sucks on your clit, and you move your hand away from your mouth to say in a rush, “I’m– I’m so close, I’m gonna come, fuck, ah, shit,” and then–

Then Roger is gone, his fingers and mouth are gone, and you’re left teetering on the brink of an orgasm, feeling like the air has been punched out of you.

“Wh– Roger?” you say, your head a mess. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see Roger still between your legs, but instead he’s massaging your thighs with his thumbs, dropping light kisses to your soft skin.

He smiles up at you, his nose and chin glistening. “Thought we could try something.”

You shake your head to try to clear it. “But I was just about to…”

You can still feel the urge. Another minute, and you’ll be there. But the longer you wait, the more the feeling fades. It makes you want to punch a wall.

Roger hums. “I know. That’s the point.”

You frown, trying to wrap your head around it. “You… don’t want me to?”

“Not yet.”

It finally clicks. “You’re gonna do that to me a couple more times before you make me come, aren’t you?”

Roger’s smile widens into a grin. “That’s the plan. If you’re on board.”

“I’m on board,” you say. “As long as when I do come, it blows my fucking mind.”

“That’s really the point of it, love.” Roger keeps eye contact with you as he leans forward to press a kiss to your core, and you shudder. “And move your hand away from your mouth. You don’t have to be quiet. The more sounds you make, the better.”

“When am I gonna get my hands on you?” you ask. “I’ve barely even touched your dick yet.”

Roger huffs a laugh, and you can feel his breath against you. “We’re getting there,” he says easily. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Ugh, that’s such a dad thing to say,” you bemoan, lying back down.

Roger laughs again, and then his mouth and hands return to where you so desperately need them. You suck in air through your teeth. “Fuck, Roger.”

Roger moans, and you jerk at the sensation.

He brings you to the edge once more, and, even though you don’t tell him when you’re about to come, he knows, and leaves you hanging once again. So close, so close, but not close enough.

You feel like crying. Or kicking him in the face.

You moan helplessly, slinging an arm over your eyes, your legs trembling as Roger smiles against your thigh – you can feel it. A smug smile that makes your blood boil and your core throb even more than it already is.

Then his fingers push into you for a third time, and his tongue licks through you, but this time it’s slow, painfully slow, not enough to make you come but enough to keep your head lost in the clouds, enough to make your stomach clench and twist, desperately searching for something. It’s enough to make you grind your teeth together. “God, fuck, I need to come,” you sob against the palm of your hand, your thighs trying to clench around Roger’s ears, but his arm is in the way, keeping your hips still.

His tongue drags against your clit, steady and unhurried, and the gasping whine that rips itself from your throat is piercing to your ears. Not even your hand could muffle it.

“There we go,” Roger says, and does it again.

You squirm. “Roger, fuck, please, I wanna come so bad.”

Roger’s fingers still move in and out of you at a leisurely pace, but he uses his mouth to say, “You wanna come?”

“Yes,” you say miserably. “Please, I need to.”

His thumb presses against your clit, and you bite your bottom lip, your body twisting.

“Christ,” Roger breathes. “That’s a fucking sight.”

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Anything, just please.”

Roger takes his hand away, standing and wiping his face on the back of his hand, and you swear. He kicks off his boxer-briefs. His cock is hard and red, swollen, leaking. You sit up and zero in on it like it’s a four-course meal and you haven’t eaten in days. You scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Fucking hell,” he says, clearly not expecting you to do that.

“Can I suck you off?” you ask desperately, resisting the urge to just shove your mouth around his dick without further preamble. “I’ll do a good job, I promise. Just tell me what to do. I’m a fast learner.” You curl your fist around him, sucking the head into your mouth.

Roger makes a strangled sound, his hips bucking slightly. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, guiding your head away with a hand on your head.

You pull back, but keep your hand where it is. “Just fuck my mouth,” you say, gazing up at him. “I dunno how that works, but I can keep it open.” You do so, sticking your tongue out, silently begging with your eyes.

Roger chuckles softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come just from running your mouth like that.”

You open your mouth wider.

“Or from just doing that,” Roger says. He pries your hand away from his dick, using it to pull you to your feet.

He kisses you, a hungry kiss, a you’re doing so well kiss, and it makes you preen. “But I want to fuck you,” he says. “I’ve had my dick sucked before; you’ve never been fucked.”

“I’ve never sucked a dick before, either, though,” you reason.

“Well, hit me up next time you’re in the neighbourhood,” Roger jokes. Before you can reply, he kisses you again, and you drink him in greedily, palming at his cock until his kisses grow sloppy, messy, more teeth and tongue, and he has to snatch your wrist. “Let me get inside you first,” he growls. “Good God.”

“I like it when you’re bossy,” you say, teasingly.

Roger hums, his eyes dark. “You need that attitude fucked right out of you.”

“Do it,” you say fervently, grinning in delight when he grabs your other wrist as well to stop you from touching him. “Do it, do it, do it. Fuck it right out me. I need it. Never had anyone try to fuck anything out of me before.”

Roger shudders. “Jesus.”

You half-heartedly try to tug your wrists back, but he holds them tightly. “Fuck me till I can’t walk,” you say. “Come on.”

Roger takes a breath, and then lets your wrists go. “Bed. Now.”

You scramble to obey, clenching your thighs together at the sight of Roger. He looks wrecked already, his hair a mess, his skin flushed, his eyes glassy, his lips red. He goes to his bedside table and digs out a bottle of lube and some condoms. “Maybe should check the date on these,” he mutters to himself, and squints at the packets in his hands. After a few moments of peering at them, he sighs in frustration, and reaches for the pair of glasses on the table that you hadn’t noticed before. He slips them on, and then nods at the packets. “They’re fine.”

He goes to take the glasses off, but you say, “Wait, show me.”

He turns to you. “Show you what?”

Fuck, he looks gorgeous in those glasses. They’re large, round ones, with delicate silver frames, and you make a soft sound. “Oh, wow.”

“I know, they’re horrendous,” Roger says, taking off the glasses and setting them down. “My eyesight’s always been shite, but I can’t stand wearing the bloody things.”

“No, you look great,” you say. “So great, in fact, that I need you to get the condom on so you can fuck me literally right now.”

Roger raises his eyebrows. “You what?”

“I’m dying here, Roger,” you say loudly, smacking the bed beside you. “You look hot as fuck in those glasses, and I’m so insanely horny that I’m about to explode. I need your dick in me right now.”

Roger grins, and rips open the condom packet. “All right. Jeez.”

“Let me do it,” you say, crawling over to him and taking the condom from him.

“You’ve ever done it before?” he asks.

“Not since we had to at school when I was, like, fifteen.” You do it carefully, to the best of your memory. Your mouth waters being so close to his cock. “Is this right?”

“Yeah, perfect,” Roger says. “You look incredible, by the way.”

You look up at Roger, and the butterflies return. You’re left momentarily speechless, but it doesn’t matter, because Roger leans down and kisses you. His hand rests against your collarbones, and you get another idea in your head. You rise up into a kneel, keeping his lips on yours, and then you take his hand, pressing it against your throat: a silent invitation.

Roger moans into your mouth, and applies some pressure, just a bit, testing the waters.

It makes your core ache, and you kiss him harder, so he presses harder in return. His palm is warm against your throat, and you keep one hand loosely around his wrist, the other hand in his hair, as it is wont to do.

You end up lying back on the bed, Roger pressing his hand against your throat as you gasp and squirm.

“You like this, don’t you?” Roger says, fingers on his other hand dipping into your folds. “Fuck, feel how wet you are.”

You nod desperately. Your mouth is hanging open, and your head is starting to swim.

“Is that all for me, love?”

You whimper, nodding again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Roger lets go of your throat, and you gasp, your eyes wide. “More,” you say immediately. “More. Fuck me like that.”

Roger smiles, keeping his palm against your throat, but brushes his thumb across your skin. His other hand curls around your knee. “Your enthusiasm is… mind-blowing,” he says with a chuckle, “but just take a moment, yeah? You’re all over the shop. Slow down a bit.”

“I don’t wanna slow down,” you protest, grabbing onto his forearm.

“We’ve got time, love. It doesn’t have to be over so quickly.”

“You can’t tease me like that, almost make me come, like, three times, and then tell me to slow down,” you say. “I need you, Roger. Christ, I need you. Show me what it’s like, show me how good my first time can be.”

Roger’s pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a shaky breath. He swallows. “Spread your legs.”

You grin, and do so. Roger lets go of your throat and leans over you on all fours to kiss you briefly. “I’m not choking you while I fuck you,” he says. “I want you to feel all of it, not have your head somewhere else.”

You nod vigorously.

Roger reaches for the lube. You hold out your hand, and he raises an eyebrow at you, but pours some into your hand. You reach forward and slide your fist up and down his cock, spreading the lube. He groans and shudders, and then he says, “That’s enough, that’s enough, I want to fuck you.”

You take your hand away, wiping the lube on the sheets, Roger surges forward to capture your lips with his, and you feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. A shot of adrenaline explodes within you.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Roger says, and you nod.

Then, slowly, he pushes into you, just an inch or two. You gasp at the stretch, gripping onto his arms, your mouth wide.

Roger stills, and nuzzles at your throat. “You okay?”

“Mm-hm,” you say, biting your lip. “Keep… Keep going.”

He does, rocking in shallowly, just going a little further each time. He’s panting against your neck, and you can feel your sweat pricking your skin. You can’t help but admire Roger’s back, the way the muscles move.

It feels good. Once you get over the initial shock to the system of having something that size inside you, you realise why you were so excited to get to this in the first place.

“I’m good,” you say, nails absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. “It– It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“You sure?” Roger asks, kissing your neck softly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Roger, for the love of all things holy, fuck me.”

He doesn’t need another invitation. He slams into you, and your eyes go wide, a tiny sound of surprise leaping out of you.

“Sorry,” Roger says, raising his head to kiss you in apology.

“Don’t fucking apologise, it feels good,” you say back. “Come on, come on.”

Roger laughs, and kisses you. You can feel his laughter against your lips, feel the way his smile changes the shape of his mouth, and that dangerously warm feeling in the pit of your stomach returns.

You could get used to this. Get used to Roger laughing against your lips as he’s buried inside you. Get used to teasing him, to turning him on, to rolling around in his bed.

As soon as the thoughts creep into your mind, you banish them. That’s not happening, you tell yourself harshly. This is a one-and-done deal. You can’t develop feelings for a man you’ve only met once. A man who is, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, sixteen years older than you.

Then Roger pulls out halfway and drives back into you, and all you can think about is his dick.

Your hand goes back to your mouth, just like before, keeping yourself quiet as you moan and whimper. Your ankles hook over the small of Roger’s back.

But then Roger pauses, sitting up, and he unwraps your legs from around him and pushes one of your knees flat on the bed, keeping you spread out wide. “Hands away from your mouth, love,” he says. “Let me hear you. It’s okay, you can let go.”

Your face burns, and you cover it with both of your hands. It’s too big of an ask. You’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Roger…”

“[Y/N].”

You lower your hands. He’s watching you, his blue eyes burning with desire, but they’re soft, too. Understanding.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Hold onto the sheets, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You nod, and, with no small amount of effort, let your arms go by your sides, your fists wrapping in the sheets.

Roger smiles. “You’re amazing.”

You turn your head away, overwhelmed.

“Eyes on me. Hey.”

You look back at him. Exposed. You’re exposed, in every sense of the word.

Roger braces himself on the bed beside your ribs, and, keeping one hand on your knee, holding it down, he starts fucking into you again, hard and deep.

The sound you make could best be described as a mewl, and it’s a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. Your hands tighten in the sheets, fighting the urge to cover your face again. Roger’s eyes are still on yours, and it’s too much, you want to look away, but you can’t.

“So good for me,” Roger pants. “Fuck. God, you’re incredible.”

You whine. “Roger.”

“That’s it, love. Say my name.”

He thrusts into you at just the right angle, making your back arch. “Roger.”

Roger groans, and he lets go of your knee to circle his fingers around your clit. You gasp, your eyes finally breaking away from his to look to the ceiling, feeling yourself climbing rapidly for the fourth time that night.

“Let me come, let me come, please,” you beg, your arms straining as your fists pull on the sheets.

Roger leans forward again to kiss you, a mess of heavy breathing and tongues and lips brushing. You let go of the sheets to clutch onto him, pawing at his shoulders and back and hips, unable to settle on where you want to hold him.

One hand inevitably slides into his hair, and you grip onto it, tugging it hard. Roger’s rhythm stutters, and he groans out your name.

His fingers feel so fucking good, and, doubled with the way he’s stretched you out, tripled with how he edged you before, you just know how hard you’re going to come. You can feel it building deeper within you than you’ve ever felt before, like an impending tsunami.

Roger readjusts, sitting back again, his brow furrowed as he searches for just the right spot to hit you.

When he does, you cry out. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

Your hands scrabble for purchase, and one finds your own hair, burying itself, and you don’t pull, but you keep a firm grip on it, the slight pain being the only thing keeping you from losing yourself entirely. Your other hand finds the same spot as before in the sheets, and you sob, screwing your eyes shut.

“You close?” Roger asks, and you nod.

“Say it out loud, love.”

“Yes, I’m so close, I’m so close,” you gasp. You’re almost there, you can feel it, only inches away, moments away.

“Open your eyes, come on.”

You do, and meet his gaze. “Roger,” you whimper.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“I wanna hear it, yeah? Wanna see you. See you come undone on my cock.”

And that’s the final nail in the coffin. You orgasm pulses through you, so hard that you convulse, and you wail, blurting out Roger’s name, clenching down on him. Your blood roars in your ears, and you’ve never come so hard in your life.

Roger moans out, “Fuck,” and then pumps once, twice more, and then comes, groaning your name, a shudder ripping through him.

When he comes back to himself, blinking his big blue eyes at you, you can’t help but think he looks otherworldly. His face, pink, shines with sweat, as does his whole body. Locks of hair stick to his forehead, his temples. His mouth hangs open, and his chest heaves, and maybe it’s the ten-out-of-ten orgasm you just had, but in that moment, you kinda want to marry him.

He takes the hand you’ve tangled in the sheets, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Your heart just about explodes. “You all right?”

You splutter. “All right? The fuck’s that meant to mean?”

Roger smiles, massaging the palm of your hand with his thumb. “I mean, are you hurting anywhere?”

My heart hurts from you being all hot and perfect and stupidly romantic, you think. “No,” you say. “I’m just fine.”

He pulls out of you, carefully, and it does nothing but reignite a spark of arousal within you. Then he collapses onto the bed beside you with an unmistakable dad noise, and takes off the spent condom, tying it off and tossing it into the rubbish bin beside his bed. When that’s done, he wastes no time in rolling onto his side and pulling you in for a kiss. You hum happily, shifting closer to him, not even caring about the sweat and how wet you are all over your inner thighs.

When he breaks away, he says, “So. How do you feel?”

“Like I just had the biggest orgasm of my life,” you say.

Roger chuckles. “I meant now that you’re, y’know…”

It clicks. “Now I’ve lost my virginity?” you say playfully. “Had my sexual debut? I’ve become a woman?”

“Not that any of it matters, of course,” Roger adds. “But it’s still… It can be a big thing.”

You give him a soft kiss. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” you say. “Virginity is nothing but a social construct and all of that.”

“Of course,” Roger reiterates.

“But I feel… happy.” You hope your grin isn’t as cheesy as it feels. “It’s nice to not have to… worry about it anymore, I suppose? I don’t know if I was really worrying about it before, but it… I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just had a really good time. That’s all that matters.”

“Good.” Roger’s hand goes to your hip, squeezing it. “I’m glad.”

“Did…” You lick your lips. “Did you have a good time?”

“Did I have a good time?” Roger repeats, almost aghast. “Are you joking?”

“Even though I had no idea what I was doing?”

“You’re a natural.”

You laugh. Your stomach squirms – both because of those ridiculous maybe-almost-could-be feelings, and because, even though you know in your mind that the whole sex part of the evening is over, your body certainly isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

Your thighs clench together, but you do your best to hide how it feels. You don’t want to be greedy.

Roger feels your thighs move under his hand, though, and he looks to you questioningly. “Are you still–”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you say lightly, shaking your head. “I was just moving around.”

Roger pauses, and then says, “All right.” He kisses you, and then takes a moment to gather his energy before he sits up. “I’ll get us some water.” He turns to you, pointing a finger at you, as if something just occurred to him. “You should go pee.”

Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Oh, yes, good thinking.”

“Bathroom’s just there,” he says, gesturing across the room at the closed door.

“You have an en suite?”

“Well, yeah. Much easier when there’s kids around.” His face falls a little. “Not that I’ve had the kids here very often recently, but uh…”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s fine. Great way to bring down the mood, eh?” He leans down again to kiss you, and then stands up, stretching. “Be back in a mo’.”

You watch him, your gaze hawk-like, as he pulls on his neon-green underwear and disappears out the door, raking his hand through his hair as he goes.

Your thighs clench together again, and you whimper.

You try to push it aside, and slide off the bed to go the bathroom, pulling on your underwear as you go. You don’t exactly feel like putting your push-up bra back on, but you don’t want to just lounge around completely naked. Would it be too presumptuous to put on Roger’s shirt?

You bite your lip, considering, and then decide to just bite the bullet, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It’s comfy, and smells like him; you understand why women in movies do it now. You do have to call bullshit on wearing a man’s shirt like a short, cute dress though – it’s more just like a long shirt, and you’re glad you’ve chosen to put on underwear.

It feels odd to pee in a stranger’s house – even odder that it’s an en suite – but you’re thankful that you get a moment to properly gather yourself in private, instead of while being surrounded by the smell of sex.

It’s when you’re washing your hands that you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth drops open in horror.

You look like a fucking mess. Your foundation is patchy where you get oily and where you’ve sweated it off, and there’s a slight ring of smudged mascara under your eyes – honestly, you’re thankful that it’s not worse, and that your setting spray did at least something. Your hair, though, is the worst of it all. You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

“Oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. What can you do? You don’t have any make-up with you to try to fix the problems, but you can’t exactly take it off, either. You have no way to fix your hair. You untie it from the ponytail it was in and try to smooth it out, but it doesn’t really do much, so you tie it back up again, but it’s a shitty ponytail, so you untie it and try again. Then you try a third time, and give up, settling on the disaster that it is, and grab a tissue, blotting at your make-up.

You sigh, staring at your reflection. Well, fuck. What the fuck are you meant to do? How the hell can you go back into the bedroom, knowing you look like this?

“[Y/N]?” Roger calls. “You all right in there, love?”

You shiver. God, the way he says the word ‘love’. The way he says your name.

You clear your throat. “Um, yeah, I’m– I’m fine. Just…” You can’t say you’re still peeing. Oh, fuck, what if he thinks you’re taking a shit or something? “I’m just fixing up my make-up.”

“I think there might still be some make-up wipes in a drawer somewhere, if you want to have a look,” Roger says. “Maybe they’re no good anymore, I’m not sure.”

You have a dig around, and find a packet. It’s already been opened, quite a while ago by the looks of it. Must be Roger’s ex-wife’s.

The thought of that sits weirdly with you, but you’re not quite sure why. Almost like you feel like you’re intruding, maybe. You certainly don’t feel like you belong here, in this bougie, nice house.

You sigh again, and pull out a handful of make-up wipes, seeing if there’s any that still hold any moisture. One in the middle has a little bit, so you carefully run it under your eyes, and lightly tap it over your forehead and down your neck to soothe your skin, fixing up any problem areas as best you can without it being too obvious that you’ve just wiped off the make-up.

The end result is fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but… yeah. Fine.

You throw the make-up wipes into the bin, take a deep breath, and exit the bathroom.

Roger’s on his phone, and he looks up when he hears the door open. His face goes slack when he sees you. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

“Isn’t that what girls are meant to do after sex?” you joke.

“I just haven’t seen, um, anyone do that in… in a long time,” he says, somewhat stilted, and he glances down at his hands. He quickly turns his eyes back to you. “It looks good. Really good.”

“Thank you,” you say, and pad over to the bedside table near him, where he has two glasses of water waiting. “Which one’s mine?”

“On the left.” Roger sets his phone down and watches you as you take a sip of water.

He’s close to you, and, like before you kissed for the first time, you’re hyperaware of every movement. But he barely moves, just waits for you.

When you put the water down, you hesitate. You want to climb on top of him, kiss him, feeling his arms around you again, but is that too much? Does he want you to go? Are you overstaying your welcome?

“You all right?” he asks gently.

You nod. “Um, yeah,” you say, and take a step back. “You probably, um, have work or something tomorrow, so I should go.”

You don’t miss the way Roger’s face falls a bit. “Oh, you want to go?”

No. “Well, it– I don’t want to impose…”

“If you want to go, then I’ll order an Uber for you,” Roger says. “But don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want to.”

The Amazonian butterflies are back yet again. “I…”

“Because – and correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger says, reaching out and tugging on his shirt, pulling you closer, and you go without any resistance, “but I think you were telling a bit of a fib before, when you said you were… what did you say? Just moving around?”

You press your lips together as Roger guides you between his legs, and he tilts his head back to gaze up at you. He smiles at the look on your face. “Am I right?”

You can feel your face heating up again. “No,” you mumble unconvincingly, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“No hands over mouths,” Roger murmurs, reaching up and taking yours. “You don’t have to hide.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. His voice sounds like a warm fireplace feels, and you barely even know him, but you’ve never felt safer, more comfortable, around a man. You can’t pretend now – you’re really starting to like him.

Roger raises his eyebrows at you, just a touch, searching your face. “So? Am I right?”

“It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. You’ve done plenty, I… I can’t ask for more.”

Roger hums, and presses a kiss to your palm before letting your hand go. “All right, okay,” he says. “I was wrong, I see. Can I at least tell you what I’d do to you if I had been right?”

You breathe in shakily, and nod once.

The corner of Roger’s mouth quirks up. “Well,” he says slowly, “first I’d kiss you, of course. And, as hot as you look wearing nothing but my shirt and your knickers, I’d undress you again. Get you lying down on your back, all spread out for me. I’d kiss you some more. Then I think I’d choke you, because you seem to like that a lot, yeah?”

You nod, hypnotised.

Roger nods as well. “Right. And then, while I was holding you down by your throat–”

You gulp.

“–I’d get my other hand, and I’d–”

“Okay, yes, you were right,” you blurt out, and grab his face, ducking down to kiss him desperately. He kisses you with just as much hunger, and nudges you a few steps back, giving him enough room so he can stand up and start unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as he’s done, your shrug it from your shoulders, and Roger pulls you closer by your ass. One hand moves to cup your jaw, his tongue pressing against yours. It doesn’t take long before the hand shifts to your throat, and you whimper softly, urging him to tighten his grip.

He does, and the feeling of it goes straight to your core. Your hands clutch at him frantically.

He lets go of your throat, and you suck in a gasp, then latch onto his neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at his skin, licking off the salty traces of sweat.

“Careful, love, careful,” he says shakily. “I can’t turn up to work looking like I’ve been attacked by a vacuum.”

You huff, but soften your kisses. He moans under his breath, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything hotter.

Soon, you break away, and crawl back onto the bed, and he follows you, positioning himself on all fours above you to kiss you deeply, his knee slotting into between your thighs. He presses it against your core, and you instinctively grind against it, shuddering when it fires an electric shock of arousal through your system. Roger shifts, readjusting his balance so he can bring his hand back to your throat, and you welcome it. You grind against his leg again.

It’s when you have to stop kissing him, your brain going into overdrive trying to force you to focus on breathing, you have to breathe, that Roger sits back, moving his leg out of the way and replacing it with his other hand.

“Fuck, Roger,” you gasp, twitching under his grip, your hands vice-like on his forearm. Your eyes slide closed, revelling in the way your head swims, the way your body fights to suck as much oxygen as it can into your lungs. You’re still so wet from before, still so stretched out, that Roger slides two fingers into you at the same time with ease, and you let out a stuttering moan, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers swirl around your clit, hitting it in just the right way, and within minutes you’re almost there.

“Most people think the best part about getting choked is the actual ‘getting choked’ part,” Roger says out of the blue, and you frown, trying to follow, opening your eyes.

“Hear me out,” Roger says casually, pushing his fingers back into you and flicking your clit with his thumb, and you whine. “Are you close, love?”

You nod.

Roger hums. “You look so good like this. Does it feel good?”

You nod again. “Mm-hm.”

“Yeah, looks like it does. Looks like you enjoy it.”

“Ah, Roger, please.”

“It’s all right, love, I’ve got you.” Roger’s fingers quicken their pace, and you make a sound, squirming.

“As I was saying,” Roger continues, “people think the best part of getting choked is actually getting choked. But it’s not. The best part of it is actually being let go. Do you want to see?”

You nod, barely even listening to what he’s saying. You’re too close to coming to pay attention.

And then Roger lets go of your throat at the same time he brushes your clit, and a rush of oxygen flows into your lungs, a rush of blood flows back to your head, and your orgasm slams into you, and the world seems so much brighter in that moment. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, your back arching, your eyes wide.

It feels like it goes on for a lifetime, although perhaps that’s just your mind trying to sort itself out. When you do finally start to come down from your high, you realise you’re shaking, and Roger is grinning at you. You blink at him owlishly.

“Wh– Huh?” you breathe, your heart racing, and Roger laughs.

“So you’re alive, then,” he teases, and leans down to kiss you.

You grab onto him, kissing him soundly, and roll the both of you over, so you’re straddling him. You just stay like that, just making out, letting the frenzied kisses lull themselves into something slower, something calmer. Just kissing for the sake of it. Roger’s hands stroke up and down your back, and you could almost fall asleep like this.

Speaking of falling asleep – you have to break away, hiding your yawn by tucking your face into his chest. Roger hums, and you can feel it vibrating against your body. You smile. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Can hardly blame you,” Roger says, his voice low. “It’s late.”

You let yourself slump against him, a moment of pure self-indulgence, and then roll to the side, dumping yourself onto the bed. You groan, unable to stop yourself from instinctively shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping, your arm beneath your head like a pillow, your eyes closing.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, muffled by your arm. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

Roger says nothing, and you feel your stomach coil in guilt. God, he wanted you to leave fifteen minutes ago, didn’t he? He was just too polite to say anything. And then you pressured him into making you come again, because you were too selfish to know when enough was enough. Great, fucking great, you’ve fucked it all up, and you’re a huge piece of shit, and you–

“Did you want to stay the night?” Roger asks tentatively.

Your eyes fly open, and you shift up onto your elbow. “What?” you say. “Stay?”

Roger glances away from you. “It– It was just a suggestion,” he says. “Just an idea, I don’t know. I, um – it’s just late, and I don’t want you travelling all that way on your own. You can, obviously, if you want to, that’s up to you, I just…”

You’re hardly even listening. You’re still struggling to drink in the first thing he said. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

Roger looks to you, and bites his bottom lip. “If– Well, if you want to, then, um, yes, I’d like you to. But only if you want to.”

You beam, and your heart triples in size. “Um, yes. I’d like to.”

Roger smiles back. “Good. Great. That’s–” He clears his throat. “Did you want to have a shower?”

“I think so,” you say with a laugh. “I’m…” You went to say I’m so disgusting right now, but you don’t want to fuck up your now-sleepover before it’s even properly begun. “Yes please.”

“Well, you know where the bathroom is,” Roger says, nodding towards the en suite. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer, if I remember correctly. I’ll get you a towel.”

“You’re not coming into the shower with me?” you ask coyly.

Roger blinks, and you laugh.

“Oh,” he says. “You were joking.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “You just made me laugh.”

Roger swoops down to steal a kiss, and you don’t let him leave, pushing up into him, stealing a few kisses back.

“Let me get you a towel,” he says, and then climbs off the bed and pads out of the room.

You bite on your finger to stop yourself from making some stupid giggle, or maybe a dumb squealing sound like a little girl. He asked you to stay the night. He wants you to stay the night.

Oh, shit, you realise, your finger dropping from your mouth. Justine. You never told her what was happening.

Where’s your phone? In the living room. Spitting out a curse, you pull on your underwear and Roger’s shirt again, and hurry out. You run into Roger, arms full of sheets, in the hallway. “Hey, is everything all right?” he says. “What did you forget?”

“I never told my roommate I wasn’t coming home,” you say. “Last she heard, I was about to book an Uber.”

Roger’s eyes go a little wider. “Shit, whoops. Yeah, go tell her.”

You shoot him a smile, and scurry off to the living room. Your phone is on the couch, and you snatch it up. Wow, shit, it is late. You’re glad you only have an afternoon lecture tomorrow.

Thankfully, just one message from Justine, from about half an hour ago. hey, haven’t heard from u in a while. just send me a message when u get this ok? xx

You respond. fuck sorry, left my phone in the other room. I have SO MUCH to tell u omg, but in a nutshell uhh we ended up sleeping together, it was fucking amazing, and now he’s asked me to stay over, so ill see u at uni tomorrow maybe? if not then at home xx

You keep your phone in hand, and head back to Roger’s room. He’s started cleaning up in the minute you were gone, stripping the bed. Fresh sheets sit on the floor. “What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m making the bed,” Roger says simply, tugging a pillow from its case. “I’m too old to be sleeping on sheets I’ve just had sex on. Let me tell you, it makes a difference. And the sheets were due for a change, anyway.”

You step forward. “Well, let me help.”

“Don’t be silly, jump in the shower.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You set your phone down beside his on the bedside table, and together the two of you help remake his bed.

Roger chases you into the shower then, and says he’s going to tidy up the room a little more before he joins you. “I’m on a roll now,” he says, picking up your shoes from where you kicked them aside during the bed-making. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

You take the make-up wipes. The door is about halfway open, and you can hear Roger moving around, hear when he trips over something and hisses out a curse, making you smile.

The make-up wipe freezes in the air near your eye. You can’t very well have a shower and go to bed without taking your make-up off – it does not make even a vague semblance of a pretty picture – but this is… way more intimate than you were expecting. Why didn’t you think of this when you agreed to stay over? Roger’s going to see you without your make-up on, with your hair tied up in a bun. He’s going to see you in the morning, all bleary-eyed and disgusting. Fuck, morning breath. You have the spare clothes you brought that you can change into tomorrow, but no extra underwear. Nothing to wear tonight. It’s a miracle that Roger even has a spare toothbrush. What time does he get up for work? Will he expect you to leave before he wakes up?

Are you a one-night-stand? Is that what this is? Are you asked to stay the night if you’re nothing but a one-night-stand, or does the fact that he asked you mean something else?

“Is your roommate all right?” Roger asks, coming to the door, leaning against the doorjamb. “No freak-outs?”

You lower the make-up wipe. “Um, no. It’s all fine, I think.”

“Have you found the toothbrush?”

“No, I haven’t checked yet.”

Roger moves around you, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through. “Ah, here it is. Still in the packet! How good am I?”

You smile as he presents it to you like it’s a medal of honour. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about the make-up wipes,” Roger says. “They’re not great.” He huffs, and then leans against the edge of the sink, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m… I’m actually really nervous.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Nervous?” you repeat. “About what?”

“About… you staying over,” he confesses. “It’s been, I don’t know, ten years since I’ve had anyone new sleep over. My brain is suddenly filled with every annoying thing I do when I sleep. And I look awful in the mornings, let me tell you. If you think I look bad now, just you wait.”

“Who says I think you look bad now?” you say. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I think you’re a hot piece of ass, Roger.”

Roger splutters, flustered, and you grin.

“I move around a lot,” he says. “When I sleep. So be prepared to cop an elbow to the face.”

“Don’t you worry, I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say. “And I move around, too.”

“I run hot,” Roger adds. “I’m like a space heater. And sometimes I talk in my sleep, but only when I’m really stressed about something, like work. I can be really very clingy.”

“I run cold,” you say with a shrug. “So clingy suits me fine.”

Roger pauses, staring at you, like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Then he snaps out of it, glancing away. “Sorry,” he says for a third time.

“Don’t apologise,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to. I’m nervous, too. Like, really fucking nervous. I’m– I’m too nervous to even take my make-up off.”

Roger’s eyes search your face. “I won’t care what you look like,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that you feel nervous about taking it off. But it won’t matter, I promise.”

“Just wait and see,” you joke in a sing-song voice.

Roger is silent for a few moments, and then he says, “Well, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to kiss the bloody daylight out of you when you take it off.”

You don’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable without make-up on. And if that means I have to keep kissing you all night as a reminder that it doesn’t matter what you look like without make-up, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

You duck your head, making a disgruntled sound. Why does he have to say cute shit like that? Why must he make you suffer?

Roger pushes the packet of make-up wipes a little closer to you, waggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle, and then reaches across you for his toothbrush.

You start wiping off your make-up.

Roger waits until you’ve finished taking it off, until you’ve brushed your teeth, until you’re well and truly left without anything to do, and then he cups your face in his hands and does exactly what he promised he’d do.

One steamy make-out session and one far-too-long shower later, you’re sitting on the newly-made bed, wrapping in a towel, the strands of hair that slipped loose from your bun sticking to your neck and temples. You’re watching Roger pull on a pair of underwear and rifle through his chest of drawers. He pulls out a huge shirt, clearly worn and well-loved, and turns to you, holding it out. “I went on a day trip once to Brighton,” he says. “We were out to a pub and I spilled red wine all over my shirt. Had to buy a new one. Sent one of my mates to get it for me and he came back with this. Hence why I have a shirt about five sizes too big for me.”

“You didn’t have to explain,” you say with a chuckle, taking it from him.

“I feel like I did,” Roger says. “I, um, usually use it as a sleep shirt when I travel.”

You slip it on, and then stand up, letting your towel drop to the floor. The shirt is long enough to cover everything, but you’re not about to bend down any time soon.

You glance over at your underwear, where they’re in a pile near the door. Should you put them back on?

“Please don’t,” Roger blurts.

You look to him. “Huh?”

His face goes red. “Um. I just– I– You– I saw you look over there, and–” He rubs his hand along his jaw. “I, um…” He looks to the ceiling, and says it in a rush. “I’m sorry this sounds awful but I saw you looking over at your knickers and I don’t want you to put them on because you look really hot wearing my shirt and the thought of you wearing nothing underneath makes my brain explode.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, “standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of boxers like that doesn’t make my brain explode.”

Roger’s eyes flick towards yours, and he breaks out into a smile, and then laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

“We’ll be truly even when I see you wearing my clothes,” you say teasingly.

Roger steps in close, his hands coming to your waist. “I don’t think your dress would fit properly, love.”

“I’ll have to come better prepared next time,” you say, and Roger hums, leaning in to give you a kiss.

Next time. Next time. You said ‘next time’. Talk about presumptuous. Christ! What is wrong with you?

You break away. “Not that I think there’ll be a next time,” you say quickly. No. Bad phrasing. “I don’t want to assume there’ll be a next time.” Still bad. “I don’t want you to think that I think there has to be a next time.” Even worse. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to have a next time if you don’t want there to be.” Better. Not great, but passable.

“I want a next time,” Roger says. “If you want one.”

“I do,” you say, God, far too eager. “I’d really like there to be a next time.”

“Me too,” Roger says.

You press into him for another kiss, and then, finally, the two of you make it to bed.

Once you’re under the covers, you almost fall asleep immediately. You didn’t realise how exhausted you are. Roger reaches over and switches off the light, and then wraps an arm around your stomach, his front against your spine. You allow yourself to smile freely in the dark, even as your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

~~~

“I’m… I’m going to send you the rest of the payment,” Roger says. He’s dressed for work, just in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and you’d been admiring him and enjoying the coffee he’d made you after you’d gotten out of the shower. It’s early – too early, for both of you.

But now your stomach drops, and you lower your mug of coffee from your lips. “You are?”

“Yes,” Roger says.

“You don’t have to,” you say. “I said it last night, I don’t care about the money.”

“I know,” Roger says. “But it’s still right. You started this whole thing to help pay the bills, and it’s not your fault that there was that whole mix-up. You don’t deserve to miss out on getting the money you’ve rightfully earned.”

“You don’t deserve to fork out that much money because of that whole mix-up,” you say. “You’ve already paid half of it. And it’s– it’s quite a fair bit, Roger.”

“I can afford to pay it,” Roger says. “I’m living more than comfortably. Giving you the money you’ve earned would just mean that I can’t, I don’t know, travel overseas this year.” He raises his eyebrows a touch. “Well, now that I might not have to be paying for three kids as well, maybe I’ll still be able to afford to go.” He shakes his head. “That’s beside the… My point is, I can afford it. And you deserve it.”

You don’t know what to say. “Roger…”

“Just let me,” he says earnestly. “Please. I want to.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. God, you’d be mad to turn down the money. But it doesn’t feel right. Does it? You don’t even know what to think.

You glance down at your mug. “All right,” you say quietly, so much so that you’re not even sure if he can hear you. But you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. “Thank you, Roger.”

“Hey.”

You look up at him, and he smiles. “You can pay me back by letting me take you out to dinner.”

Your face immediately grows hot. “Suave motherfucker,” you say, and he laughs.

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says playfully.

Your stomach squeezes. “Sure,” you say. “But I’m paying.”

Roger snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

“I’ll fight you for the cheque, don’t think I won’t.”

“Maybe I’ll just sneakily pay for it before you’ve even realised.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Can we settle on going Dutch?”

Roger sips his coffee. “All right,” he says eventually.

“Good.”

He takes out his phone, holding it out to you. “Text me some time during this week,” he says. “About where you want to go. Or just text me if you want to say hi. Or call me. Y’know, whatever.”

You tilt your head to the side as you take his phone. “That wasn’t quite as suave, I have admit.”

Roger sighs. “Damn.”

You laugh, and send a quick text to yourself, then slide the phone back to him.

He seems extremely pleased, but he takes a casual drink from his coffee like he’s trying to hide it, and you can’t help but think it’s horribly cute.

He shoots a glance at you, and sees you grinning at him, and his cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat, turning away to the sink to rinse his mug out.

~~~

You’re at uni, half-asleep, shuffling back to the bus stop after your never-ending lecture, when Justine barrels into you, grabbing your elbow so tightly that you yelp. “What the fuck happened last night?” she exclaims.

You don’t know why it hadn’t been awkward this morning. Apart from the money conversation. There had still been some nervousness, on your part anyway, but Roger had been too focused on getting ready for work to let any uncomfortable silences hang. You have to admit that it had been nice to wake up with someone’s arm around you, and you had been quietly delighted to see Roger fussing over the faint bruises on his neck, pulling up his shirt collar and adjusting his tie to try to cover them. After you’d both gotten ready for the day, he’d dropped you at the nearest bus stop. “And I will text you,” he’d said seriously. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Good,” you’d said. “I’ll be waiting for it. Three days is the general rule, right?”

Roger had groaned. “Don’t make me wait three days.”

You had chuckled. “I’m not making you do anything.” You’d hesitated, and then said, “Is it weird if I kiss you before I go?”

Roger had taken a breath. “I… wouldn’t say so, no.”

So you’d leant in and kissed him, and he’d kissed you back, and you’d wanted to keep kissing him, but a car had pulled up behind you and honked, so you’d drawn back, whispered, “Bye,” and gotten out of the car.

Once you’d figured out how to get home, you’d crashed, sleeping until your alarm had woken you up again for your lecture.

“Stuff,” you say to Justine.

“Stuff?” Justine squawks. “Don’t give me that shit. You have to tell me literally everything, or I’m going to kill you. Come on.” She loops her arm through yours, and starts towing you towards the bus stop.

Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket.

I know it hasn’t been three days, but it’s been more than three hours. Is that enough time, do you think?

You smile, reply, I think so, yeah, then quickly pocket the phone before Justine can sneak a glance as Amazonian butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

#queen fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #rpf #mine #smut

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goldngguk · 5 years

Text

a dangerous game // epilogue

a dangerous game: part 01 // part 02

warnings // yandere behavior, unwanted pregnancy, night terrors, literally one f-bomb

word count // 1k

anon asked: I was wondering if you would do like a in the future part where OC is pregnant but trying to keep it from jk bc she starts to get flashbacks of the night of the hunt with jks reaction and stuff

You were running through the forest again, being chased by something in the black. You'd seen this a hundred times before; the woods, the hills, the sun slowly rising in the background. It was all a part of that godawful night on the island before you and Jungkook were married. Only this time it wasn't your fiancé chasing you. It was a voice, screaming and wailing from behind you. It demanded something from you, something you couldn't give into no matter how painful it was to run from it. You wanted it so bad, but you knew what it meant. So you kept running.

"Y/n." A low voice groaned out your name. The screams kept getting louder.

"Y/n!"

You shot up in your bed next to your husband, sweaty and panting. Your heart was racing in your chest and you clutched your throat to try and calm down. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you as he sat up, kissing your shoulder and temple to soothe you. "Hey," he cooed in your ear. "It's okay. You're safe."

You grabbed ahold of him, closing your eyes and slowing your breathing. Oh, how you dreaded these nightmares. They went away after a while but just recently started up again. And you knew why.

It has been two years since your weekend on the island with Jungkook's family. You were married a few months after returning to Korea and everything went back to normal. You forced yourself to forget about that night and the truth behind the family you married into. It was the only thing you could do to keep yourself sane. And you loved Jungkook, despite the terror he'd caused you. You couldn't just forget about the man he was to you when his father had no say in your relationship.

You had gotten used to it again; just being with Jungkook. Everything went back to the way it was before, just like he promised you. The nightmares went away and you were happy. Things were great. Then Jungkook started bringing up the topic of children.

You wanted kids, always had. You and Jungkook used to talk about it all the time when you were dating. But now, a baby was the last thing you wanted. It wasn't easy to forgive and forget, especially when the possibility of your own children succumbing to the family tradition was far too high. That's what it meant. You would have a baby and they would be taught by their own father that they needed to kill to love. You didn't want that kind of life for your child.

Jungkook was adamant. His little hints toward the idea of a kid turned into constant conversation about it. He would nag you endlessly. It was all he talked about. In order to get him to stop, you told him you'd start trying. However, you never stopped taking your birth control. You switched pharmacies so he couldn't check your refills and hid them in your purse.

When you weren't falling pregnant, he got antsy. He started questioning you about it and became obsessed. He secretly started tracking your cycles and moods. He wasn't upset the day he found your pills. He chalked it up to you being nervous to be a mother. But he knew you'd be amazing.

One afternoon, you were out shopping with a couple of friends when he texted you.

Guk: baby, I took off work early

Guk: why don't you come home so we can try again

And now here you were, shaking in fear of what you knew was coming. You'd been feeling strangely for weeks, so you made an appointment with your doctor. You were minutes away from hearing your confirmation. You sat on the edge of the examination table, sinking your nails into the palms of your hands. The wait was excruciating. Finally, the doctor came in carrying your test results on a clipboard.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Jeon. The test was positive. You're pregnant!"

Fuck.

You didn't know how to tell Jungkook. You had managed to keep it from him for a few days. You had gotten pretty good at hiding your thoughts from him, so you hadn't changed your behavior. That, however, only led him to believe you still weren't pregnant which sent him digging through your purse in search of another package of birth control. He had hoped the ones he found before was the last refill before you stopped, but now he had other suspicions. The pills he found though, were quite the opposite.

"Bunny?" he called from your bedroom after taking a moment to collect himself.

"Yeah?"

He met you in the kitchen, clutching the bottle of prenatal vitamins in his hand. "Are these- I mean- are you-"

Your eyes flicked up to meet his that were glistening with tears. You felt like throwing up. "Yeah," you smiled as you choked down the lump in your throat. "I'm pregnant."

He threw himself at you, picking you up off your feet and spinning you around. You still swooned at how happy he looked, but your head told you he could be happy for all the wrong reasons.

He set you down and crouched to level himself with your stomach. Pressing a kiss to your belly, he smiled. "Hi, baby. It's daddy. I'm gonna take good care of you, alright?" He kissed you again before rising to kiss your lips, holding your face in his hands.

Your heart ached, desperate to pour out its true feelings. But you could never do that. All you could do was pray that it was a girl. At least she could stand a chance.

a.n. // shout out to the awesome anon who sent in this request. I wasn't going to do another part for adg, but I thought it'd be really cool to see the flash forward, like an epilogue. I hope you liked it!

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mar-bluu · 4 years

Note

How do you reckon Elmer and Buttons would react if Lucy got pregnant? Can just imagine how excited Elmer'd be, calling everyone like "im gonna be a grandad!"

Akdksoske ohmygosh okay!!! (This is gonna be my long, and incomprehensible ramblings, sorry!!)

So! One day Elmer's sitting in the kitchen eating his breakfast when Lucy walks in and just throws up right in front of him. Elmer's like "oh okay that's nice, you do that, yeah right in front of my toast, okay" and Lucy just walks out and leaves him to clean it up. So Elmer finishes up his toast and cleans up Lucy's mess when Buttons walks in. Elmer's like "Lucy threw up just before but i cleaned it up, so be careful, the floor might be wet." And Buttons goes "huh, she threw up yesterday as well." So they're a little concerned but chalk it up to her probably eating grass. The next day, however, when she throws up again, they're like "okay something might be wrong, let's take her to the vet" so they bundle her up in the car and drive down to the vets, Elmer's quietly freaking out because all he can think of is the absolute worst, and Buttons is trying to keep him calm, saying that its probably nothing as he tries to stay calm as well.

They pull up and head inside. As theyre sitting in the waiting room, Lucy throws up again, so the lady at the desk is like "okay, we should probably look at that like, now." So Lucy's brought into a side room and Buttons explains that she's been off her food and vomiting for the last few days. So the vet's like "is she spayed?" And Elmer and Buttons look at each other like "is she??" So they say that they're unsure and the vet's like "okay, well we're gonna do an ultrasound real quick" Lucy's whisked off to the back room for an ultrasound and now, Elmer's f r e a k i n g out. "Buttons, she could've eaten something really bad! What if she's been poisoned? Did we remember to give her her heartworm tablets? Did we check her for ticks!?" And Buttons is trying to stay calm and reassure Elmer, and theyre both too busy worrying about Lucy to notice the vet coming back. She opens the door to the two of them panicking, and just sets Lucy down on the examination table, waiting for Elmer and Buttons to notice. Lucy sits on the table with her tail wrapped around her paws and meows loudly. That gets their attention, and the turn to the table, holding each other's hands nervously. "Well," the vet starts "Lucy's gonna be just fine." Elmer and Buttons share a look of relief. "But," they begin to grow nervous again "you might wanna consider kiddie proofing the house, cause Lucy's gonna be a mama"

The two of them are completely silent, staring open mouthed between the vet and their cat, who stares proudly back. "What?" The vet just nods, giving Lucy a scratch behind her ears. "A mother of seven, actually. Or at least thats how many i can see." Buttons squeals excitedly as Elmer tackles him in a hug "we're gonna be grandparents!!" The vet laughs along before stepping them through the pregnancy process. She walks them to the counter and gives them a card to an all-hours house call vet who can help them if they're worried about or during birth. They thank the vet and bring Lucy home.

The second they got inside Elmer's on the phone to everyone telling them the good news as Buttons lectures Lucy about running off and getting pregnant. Everyone's so happy for them (especially Davey who's a big cat person, though he doesn't often show it and Mush who comes over as soon as possible with extra cat food and bedding) and Buttons and Elmer spend 110% of their attention on Lucy and making sure she's comfortable ("pregnant cats are called queens, Buttons, we should treat her like one!" "She has three beds stacked on top of each other and enough food to last her a life time, i dont think she needs another cat-box" "fine, but we need to get her a "world's best mum" cat bowl!")

Anyway! One morning at about 2:40 am Elmer wakes up to Buttons shaking his shoulder. "It's happening!" "What?" "It's happening!!" "Wha- oh, oh!" He springs out of bed as Buttons dials the emergency vet. Elmer sprints through the house, finding Lucy huddled in a corner, washing her fur. Elmer kept his distance, not wanting to annoy her, as he tried to keep his excitement quiet. Not too long after that the emergency vet arrived, following Buttons into the room. He said there wasnt a lot he can do, as Lucy seemed to be handling it very well, so they sat there and talked about Lucy, if this was her first litter, how well she'd been dealing with the pregnancy etc. They waited there for an hour and a bit, cooing over pictures of the vet's own kittens, before Lucy gave birth to the last of her kittens. The vet monitored Lucy for another half hour or so before heading off, ("make sure to take them to the vets within a week or two for a wellness check") and Elmer and Buttons move in closer for a look at the newest additions to their family. They count the kittens, finding another 2 the vet missed, and excitedly snap pictures and send them to their friends. As they continue to melt over the kittens, they notice that while a lot of them have the same black and white colourings of their mother, a few of them were a pretty orange, that looked suspiciously like the ginger cat who lived down the street. Buttons made a mental note to have a stern talking to with him the next time they saw him.

Already Elmer's thinking of names for the kitties, sending options to the groupchat (only Race is awake and his suggestions include Professor Cheeseball and Sir Meatball Daggertooth, which he reads out to Lucy who doesn't look too pleased with them) Buttons had already picked a name for one, Tigger, which they settled on giving to the biggest ginger fluffball. They settled on Gizmo for the kitty that looked like a little clone of his mum, then waited for the others to wake up and help (Race is officially banned from naming anything after suggesting Moldy Stink Rat) Elmer and Buttons sat on the couch and watched Lucy with her new babies, wrapped in each others arms, as they fall asleep listening to Lucy meow softly to her kittens.

After about three months, the kittens were all named (Tigger, Gizmo, Oreo, Luna, Willow, Sunny, Marmalade, Cedar, and after lots and lots and lots of pestering from his human counterpart, the last one was named Jack) and had their appropriate vet work done. Davey appointed himself as godfather and was over any time he could ("where are my babies? I want to see my babies!" *scoops up Gizmo* "And how's mama Lucy going?") Mush and Blink would come and visit them frequently too, always bringing little toys and things for the kittens to play with. Cedar had taken a real shine to Mush and Blink, and would always go running towards them whenever he heard their voices. (Elmer and Buttons had a feeling of who they wanted to give Cedar to when the time came) Jack couldn't come over as frequently as the others but would constantly text Elmer and Buttons for updates on Cat-Jack, and had a picture of his kitty twin in his wallet and would show it off proudly to anyone who asked.

Unfortunately come month 4, Buttons and Elmer had to make the tough decision of giving away their precious babies. Lucy was just as upset as the two of them, but they couldn't keep looking after all of them, they'd already lost a pair of shoes, two pillows and several cups and glasses. So they needed to make sure the kitties went to the best of homes. Naturally Davey offered to take two (Oreo and Marmalade), Katherine took Willow, Barney adopted Luna, and Albert got Sunny. Elmer and Buttons asked Blink and Mush if they wanted to take Cedar, but they were slightly hesitant as they didnt want him to be overwhelmed by all the other animals (though they seriously had to restrain themselves from accepting right away) So Elmer and Buttons held onto him (tho they had a feeling that in a month or so he'd be living on the farm) Jack obviously adopted mini him, and Gizmo and Tigger stayed with Buttons and Elmer

Every month or so, they would all organize a meet up together, usually at Buttons' and Elmer's house so Lucy could see her babies again, and have kitty hangouts. Lucy, Elmer and Buttons miss the other kittens a lot, but they're happy knowing that they're with good families and good homes :)

Also Lucy definitely got spayed after bc they couldn't deal w the heartbreak of giving away kittens again, and also to help keep kitties off the streets, and the cat from down the road got a very stern talking to

#asks!#AHHHHH #IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG WINDED AND PROBABLY DOESNT MAKE SENSE #if ive said a sentence that doesnt english well please ask for clarification not even i know what i say sometimes #anyway!! I HECCIN LOVE CATS SO SO SO MUCH #highkey helped me w shit today #so thanks so much for that :))#belmerttons #buttons davenport #elmer kasprzak #newsies #kitty!!#jae writes kinda #hc fuel #cutesiewoojin #:)))#also for some reason it doesnt show up w the keep reading cut on mobile so im so so so sorry if you have to scroll past this long ass post

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

Text

Truth Pt. 12

Truth Master List

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: FLUFF, FEELS, CUTE MOMENTS, only a little sad

A/N: Look. I’m a sucker for Bucky dancing, I’m a sucker for cheese (sometimes) and also I just thought these two deserved a moment like this after everything they’ve been through. Ugh. I love them.

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauder--harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @andreagf956 @marvelousmeggi @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

The next morning you slip out while Bucky is still sleeping for your appointment with Tony and Bruce.

You were happy he managed to get some sleep. Throughout the night you kept waking up, terrified he’d stopped breathing or constantly seeing that image of him bleeding from a wound you’d inflicted on him…

The moment the elevator opens you’re met with Black Sabbath blaring. It wouldn’t have been your first choice but you’re not mad about it either.

“Mornin’ Sparks!” Tony bellows from the other side of the room.

“Coffee or tea?” Bruce asks.

“No fasting?”

“Nah.”

“Coffee.” Bruce pours you a cup and brings it over to the chair you were at a few days prior.

“We just needed that for the initial blood tests.” You hold your arm out and he begins to attach the nodes.

Tony heads over when Bruce is about done, Dum-E on his heels. “Sorry, had to fix this idiot.”

“Be nice to him,” you smile at the robot.

Tony laughs shaking his head and holds out a bag of banana chips. You take a few, munching them, mind wandering back to Bucky.

“Hey,” Tony sits next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “you ok?”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one who got a hole torn in their side yesterday.”

“It really looked worse than it was,” Bruce says, tone trying to reassure you.

“I know how much worse it could have been…” You feel the energy rise in you.

“Damn,” Tony looks at the screen. “Tell me, after a fight are you able to get your power up and running faster?”

“Uh… maybe? I’ve never really paid attention to it.”

“Because it took almost an hour for you to reach this high of a level the other day. And now what, five minutes?”

“Could be linked to emotion too.” Bruce would know.

“Yeah. Both maybe? Sorry, I know that’s not helpful.”

“No, but it’s interesting.” Tony studies the readings as the energy quiets. “The signature is also just a touch different-”

“Not quite as stable,” Bruce finishes. It’s like you’re not really there. Which is honestly ok with you.

“So you and Lefty,” Tony pops some chips in his mouth, “had quite the tiff. Guess you made up?”

You glare at him for a minute before responding. “I guess making him bleed was good enough payback for being a chauvinist.”

“Maybe,” he glances at the screen. “You should actually talk about it though.”

“Are you really giving me relationship advice?”

“More of a suggestion. Based on my own many and likely continuing mistakes.” Bruce snickers and Tony throws a chip at his head.

You laugh and sigh. “As much as I hate these words, you’re probably right.”

“You just broke rule #1, Y/N.” Bruce shakes his head in mock disappointment.

For the rest of your appointment, you run through some of the same things you did before. Bringing your energy up and down, letting it crackle from your fingertips, forming and dissipating.

Tony and Bruce both study the screens after you’re unhooked. “You boys need anything else from me?”

“Nah, you’re good Sparky. I’ll let you know if we need ya.”

“Have fun nerds!” You call over your shoulder as you head back to Bucky’s apartment to check on him.

When you open the door the smell of bacon makes your stomach growl. The sound of Bucky singing along to Sinatra’s Fly Me To The Moon brings a smile to your face and an ache to your heart. What if you’d-

“Y/N?” Bucky’s calls from by the stove.

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry I didn’t knock…”

He comes out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee for you. “You don’t have to knock.”

“Thanks,” you take the mug from him but don’t take a sip, your lips pursed, trying to settle your nerves.

“You’re welcome. Thought you may be hungry.” He nods toward the kitchen and heads back.

Slowly you follow taking a seat at one if the bar stools. You stare into the mug, the silence only broken by the sizzling from the pan for the next few minutes.

As he cracks and whisks the eggs you can’t stand it anymore. “Why are you doing this?” You snap.

He turns around, bowl in hand one brow raised. “Like I said, I thought you’d be-”

“I could have fucking killed you Bucky…”

“Yeah,” you feel your face contort at the admission. “But it was my fault.” You turn back to your coffee, the guilt too overwhelming.

He turns the burner off and comes to your side, “Look at me, Y/N.” His right fingers graze your left cheek, gently turning your face to his. The expression on his face is soft, eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “You had it handled. I… I was... well I was acting like my fucking father. Like I knew better based on nothing but my own pride. Because of that I got in the way and got caught in the crossfire. That isn’t on you, baby.”

You reach a shaky hand out to touch his side lightly where the bandages were. Bucky takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “I can’t promise I won’t ever be an authoritative prick again. But I’ll work on it, I promise.” Sniffing hard you nod. “We ok?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

The two of you enjoy a nice breakfast and have just curled up on the couch to watch a movie, both of you still tired from the mission, when Tony texts you:

“Hey. Can you come back for a minute? Wanna talk about something.”

You sigh heavily.

“What is it?” His back is pressed against your upright torso, head on your chest. Tilting his head to the side he looks up at you.

“Tony needs me to come back to the lab for something.”

“Ok,” Bucky groans a little as he sits up, the exhaustion clearly kicking in. “Tell him if he keeps you too long he’s gotta deal with me.”

You laugh, “You got it, Sarge.” Standing you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

Tony’s at his desk, the lab quiet for once. It’s unnerving.

“What’s so bad that you don’t even have music on, Ton?”

“Huh?” He looks at you distracted. “Oh! Nothin’ bad just needed to focus and couldn’t find the right song.” He flashes you a half smile.

“Tony…?”

“I just can’t work out how you tick. It’s unlike anything we’ve seen…”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly, “Well you’ve only tested me twice.”

“True but the results are so different. I mean… the base readings are pretty similar but… I just hate a problem I can’t solve, or that I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are you trying to… fix me, Tony?” A cold feeling of betrayal begins to settle over you.

“No! Absolutely not!” He looks horrified and you feel like an idiot for thinking that. “Unless you want me to… I just want to be sure we can keep you, ya know...”

“From blowing up and killing everyone?”

He rolls his eyes, “I was going to find a more tactful way to put it.”

“Tact isn’t your style man.”

“Ouch!” He dramatically grabs his chest. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d be cool with me tagging along on your next few missions as a non-combatant. I just want to monitor your levels in real time, see how they change in combat vs. in a controlled setting. But I don’t want you to feel like I’m babysitting you.”

You think about this. It could be a little weird. Tony usually stayed out of most basic missions, only really getting involved in the ones where they needed the extra firepower. Honestly you always like when he’s along and you can think of another good reason to have him…

“I’m game. But I need you to promise me something.”

Tony’s brows raise with suspicion. “That makes me nervous… suuuuuure.”

“If you’re with us and something goes wrong. If I’m down or compromised in some way… get him out.”

Tony’s face settles into a stoic mask as the weight of what you’re asking settles over him. “Y/N…”

“Look, I don’t have any intention of throwing myself to the wolves or anything but after yesterday… I just don’t trust he won’t do something stupid to save me if he thinks he can… no matter if it’s a lost cause.”

“He’ll put up one hell of a fight. I saw how he looked at you Y/N the other day. That man is-”

“You can handle him. Plus… you’re the only one that can besides Steve and…”

“He’ll hate anyone who pulls him out. You figure I can handle that.” He smirks.

“Tony…”

“No you’re right, I can. And I am the only one. So yeah, deal.”

You give him a cold smile, it wasn’t exactly something to be happy about. “Alright.” You stand and extend a hand to shake on it.

He takes it and pulls you into a hug. “Just don’t put me in that position Sparky. You don’t get to just cash it in, ok?”

“I won’t.” You pull away, this time your smile is genuine. “Besides, without me, who’re you gonna make playlists for?”

“Exactly.”

You enter the elevator with a strange sense of hope warming your chest. A sense that grows and grows over the next few months.

For the most part, you’ve moved into Bucky’s place. Sure you still technically have your own apartment in the tower but you haven’t stayed there one night since that mission where you injured him. Your clothes, records, and even some of your photos have made their way into his drawers, shelves, and onto his walls slowly but surely.

On nights where you’re not beat from a mission or eating with the team, you cook together. Dancing everything from the waltz to tango as various dishes bubble away on the stove. You even convince him on a few occasions to invite one or two people over for dinner or drinks that aren’t Steve.

Nat and Clint join you one night. Another it’s them and Steve, which proves to be hilarious back and forth between best friends calling one another out on their reckless bull shit. You laugh yourself to tears more times that night than you can count. When you have Sam over things are awkward for about a half hour before they gang up on you to argue the superiority of Star Trek to Star Wars.

Tony accompanies you to whatever missions he’s able. Mainly he hangs back in the jet, looking over the feedback Jarvis sends him from the cuffs he modified to not only offer (hopefully anyway) emergency stabilization but to give him readings on your energy levels, how the signature changes, temperature fluctuations, and other minute details you never pay attention to.

When you’re back on the jet he usually would do a more thorough scan as you fly home. Determined to figure out just what Hydra did and how he can give you the most control possible. It warms your heart that he’s so determined.

Only twice do they pick up on any more energy signatures that come close to your own. The first was a false positive. While the other seemed to be just residual energy since the facility appears to have been abandoned for years. In fact, you’re fairly certain it was one of yours, judging from the way your head feels like it’s filled with static and the soul-shredding dreams that followed that night.

Bucky held you while you screamed and cried. You weren’t able to make your tongue form the words, some block in your brain preventing you from speaking about that facility. It was ok though, he understood. The night was spent with him rocking you gently in his arms, singing softly to you, grounding you to a present so wonderful it made the past truly feel like nothing more than a bad nightmare.

You weren’t the only one to deal with ghosts though. It was a particularly brutal mission, the Hydra agents were determined to win or die… needless to say, they didn’t win. Bucky had been cornered with Nat by about 10 agents. When you saw them after they were both covered with viscera and blood, looking more like animals than humans.

That night you rolled over to find the bed empty the door to the bathroom cracked, the sound of the shower running seeping out. You padded quietly over, pushing the door open slowly, not wanting to startle him. Bucky was on the floor of the shower, head pressed to his knees. Scalding hot water hitting him from all angles, his skin pink and red. When he lifted his head you felt your heart shatter. His face a mask of fear, pain, regret, and horror.

He didn’t have to explain to you why, though he wants to. What he wants is irrelevant. Had you asked for a mission report he could have given it, could have recited every horrifying detail of the day. His mouth opens and closes as you tentatively approach.

“Zamorozka,” is all he’s finally able to manage in a shaky voice when you’re by the shower. Freezing. Cryo. That’s what they would have done after a mission like that just to be sure. Wipe. Reset.

Nodding you strip your clothes, stepping into the cloud of steam to sit behind him, warm him further with your body, pull him as far from that freezing hell as you possibly could. For a long while, you hold him, kiss his tense back muscles, remind him where he is. When you coax him out of the shower you tell Jarvis to crank the heat in the apartment. You wrap Bucky in cozy clothes and blankets and though you’re practically sweating you don’t care.

But even with those and a handful of other times that your past comes knocking in the night, the two of you find something neither ever hoped for. Happiness. He frustrates the hell out of you some days but he makes you laugh, never questions your silences, and goddamn if he wasn’t incredible in the sack.

And it seems that you make him happy too. You’ll catch him watching you from time to time, a warm smile lighting his features. He’s more personable to everyone, even Sam commenting that he likes him better now. Steve is convinced you’re bringing back more of his old self, you hope that’s true.

Bucky can’t help the smile on his face. All you’re doing is caring an armload of blankets in from the bedroom but still… it makes him unbearably happy.

Everyone is wrapped up in gala business. Some necessary evil PR stunt for the Avengers. No one has mentioned anything about having to attend to either of you so instead, you’re taking the time to watch movies and eat copious amounts of shitty food.

He pops a cheese puff in his mouth and you look over to him. “If you eat all those I’ll zap you.” Laughing Bucky walks over and tosses a neon orange ball at you. Effortlessly you catch it, munching loudly.

“What’re we starting with?” He settles next to you, tugging you close.

“Reservoir Dogs, Tony’s been harping on me to watch it and I just want him to shut up about it.”

Bucky laughs, “Alright. Hit it Jarvis.” The windows darken to block out some of the early afternoon light and the film starts.

They’re no more than 20 minutes in when Jarvis pops in. “Pardon the interruption, Captain Rogers is on his way up.”

You exchange a glance, “Everything alright, Jarvis?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

When Steve raps at the door Bucky gets up to let him in. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s fine.” You pipe from the living room as they head in. “Cheese puff?” Steve smiles at the proffered bowl, never one to turn down a snack he grabs a handful as he sits.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bucky settles back at your side, automatically taking your free hand in his own.

“This damn gala.”

Bucky laughs, “You never did like a dance, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Hard to when every gal had a foot on me at least.”

“Mhm. That was why.” He turns to you, “He just doesn’t like dancing.”

“You do though.” You both turn your eyes back to Steve, Bucky’s suspicion mounting. “That’s kinda why I’m here…”

He reaches over and nabs more cheese puffs, shoving some in his mouth before continuing. “Hill thinks maybe you should both attend.”

You just popped a puff in your mouth and begin coughing a bit, “What?!”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Steve holding a hand up in surrender. “She said it would be excellent PR for the team to let people see-”

“The reformed freak show?” Bucky’s grip tightens on your hand. This puts a bad taste in his mouth. Steve looks wilted and Bucky regrets his tone.

“No man, at least I don’t think it’s like that.” His fingers begin to drum on his knee. A classic Rogers tell that he’s nervous as all hell. “I think it’s more to show people that you’re not something to be afraid of, either of you.” Bucky feels you shift next to him.

“The public knows there are two former Hydra assets on the team. You,” he gestures to Bucky, “they know about from the Battle of The Potomac. But, Y/N, you’re a total mystery which is almost worse.”

Bucky stares at the place where your clasped hands rest. People fear what they don’t know. “So… this is a PR suggestion, not a team decision?” He can feel the tension in your body.

“Yeah, but everyone agrees it’s probably a good move. It’s a secure event, every attendee vetted. Plus it’s here in the tower so if you need to duck out, you can.”

“Bruce said the last one wasn’t bad,” your voice seems kind of small.

He looks over at you, your eyes also glued on the spot where your bodies connect. “Do you wanna go, doll?”

You laugh a little bitterly, looking up, “I mean… it’s not my thing, I didn’t even go to prom but if everyone thinks it a good call and will help PR… I kinda feel like we should.”

Suddenly he feels kind of excited, having you on his arm, dancing with you… Of course, there’d be all the other people, press, and… He swallows hard. “Alright. We’re in.”

“Thank god.” Steve looks genuinely relieved.

With the gala on Saturday night, your relaxing Thursday afternoon immediately shifts. Now there are clothes to be chosen and fitted, logistics to discuss, various preparations to be made.

Bucky is drug off with Tony and Pepper takes you on. Tony gets his tailor on fitting a suit for Bucky immediately since apparently what Bucky had wasn’t suitable, despite the fact that Tony keeps insisting that the event isn’t super formal. It makes him think of when he’d let his sisters dress him up. Except he’s more annoyed and less endeared.

The next day you’re both back in fittings after breakfast. When you’re done it’s lunchtime and you both look spent. Still, it’s off to a meeting with Hill to cover security details, as much for the attendees as all of you.

Most everyone would enter at the beginning of the party, do the press thing, answer a few preselected questions, etc. When they’re going over this Steve looks like he wants to puke. It’s the one time Bucky’s happy he’s known for being an unstoppable murder machine.

The two of you and Bruce would hang back, coming in an hour after the others once the event actually starts. This doesn’t mean there won’t be some pictures snapped throughout the evening or even that people won’t attempt to interact with you all but it will take the pressure of being in the spotlight off. All that’s really asked is that you all stay for at least a half hour but if you need to leave that’s ok.

No weapons would be allowed into the building. All of you were welcome to arm yourselves as you saw fit. While they never anticipate anything to go wrong, few were bold enough to make a move inside Avenger’s Tower, after all, it never hurt to be prepared.

Saturday morning comes and you’re both already over it. His initial excitement has been smothered in anxiety and general annoyance with the whole process. Plus he knows as soon as he sees Tony, he’s going to have to once again make it clear that he’s not cutting his hair.

“Let’s just say we’re sick.” You press tighter into his side, burying your face in his chest.

His lips curl a touch as he strokes the back of your head. “Don’t think that’ll fly, doll.”

“Thirty minutes has never seemed so long in my life. And after Hydra, I feel like that’s saying something.” You roll over onto your back next to him.

He can’t help but laugh. “It’ll be fine,” he tangles his fingers with yours. “Besides, didn’t Tony say he put together a great playlist?”

“Not worth it.” Your phone buzzes on your nightstand. Groaning you pick it up. “It shouldn’t take a whole day to get ready for anything ever. It’s just not right.”

“You’ll have fun, Nat’ll be there.” You slide him a sidelong glance. “Promise after this we’ll see about running off someplace for a few days. Sound good?”

You smile before pouncing on him, straddling his hips, kissing him hard. “The thought of having you all to myself for a few days may just get me through this.”

Your phone buzzes again and you go to get off, he pulls you back, “I think they can wait a minute.” He lifts his hips to fully press the hard length of him against you.

“I think you’re right Barnes.”

His good mood lasts until the exact second Tony asks about his hair for the sixth time in the last three days. “Stark, if you ask me one more time I swear to god I’ll-”

“Alright, alright,” Tony’s hands are up. “At least pull it back.”

“Planned on it.”

“Give him some credit, Tony, the man wasn’t raised by wolves,” Clint pipes up from the couch where he’s waiting to try his suit on too.

Bucky doesn’t see you for the rest of the day. Pepper planned what she swore would be a fun ‘girls day’ for all the women on the team. He hopes you’re having fun but as the clock ticks closer his anxiety over everything is peaking. Seeing you, he knows will calm some of it. He’d face anything with you by him.

You were all meeting in the common space for a toast before the majority of the team went down to kick things off. When he gets there, it’s just the guys, drinking whiskey and lounging.

“I guess you clean up alright Barnes.” Sam lifts his tumbler of amber liquid in Bucky’s direction.

“You don’t look terrible either, Wilson.”

“Psh,” Sam scoffs as Bucky takes a seat by Steve on the couch, “I know I look damn fine in this Armani. Not that you’d know taste if it hit you upside the head.”

Bucky has to admit, Sam’s burgundy suit is pretty sleek. He’d opted for something black. Its slim cut seems strange but it’s the style now. The jacket, Tony insisted, could be worn open and thank god this wasn’t something he needed a tie for. In fact, the perfectly tailored white button-up was open a few buttons, making it fairly comfortable.

It’s almost twenty minutes before the elevator dings. Everyone but you and Natasha file out. Tony catches Pepper up in a passionate kiss. Hill looks incredible in pants that hug her legs and what looks like a men’s blazer without a shirt under, very her. The other gals look great too.

Since time was getting tight Tony goes ahead and gathers everyone around, popping a bottle of champagne and pouring glasses. Finally, Natasha saunters in but oddly you’re not with her.

“Sorry I’m late, had to figure out where comfortably put a pistol,” Natasha announces. She’s in a bold number. Gold, short, strapless, with a triangle cut out showing her cleavage perfectly.

“Told you not to go with the Versace,” Hill quips.

“Ok, but how could I not. Just look at me.” She flashes Bucky a smile, “Y/N is right behind me.”

On cue, the elevator doors open and you step out and Bucky’s jaw hits the floor. You’re radiant in a floor-length black gown, sheer from the waist down with black overlays resembling roses with crystals providing shimmer, the neckline plunges almost to your waist, your arms bare. Your hair is swept and pinned to one side, curls perfectly shielding half your face, your lips a deep blood red.

“Woah.” Steve breathes out next to him. “I don’t know if you can handle that Buck.”

“You may be right,” Bucky can’t take his eyes off you as you float over to them.

“I feel slightly ridiculous.” You say exasperated as he wraps you in his arms.

“You look beautiful.”

You smile softly, a slight blush on your cheeks. “Thanks”

“I may have to take back what I said about your lack of taste, Barnes.” Sam teases before Tony shuts everyone up for the toast.

When the time finally comes to slip into the party you grab his metal hand so hard you’d likely break a regular Joe’s bones. Bruce goes first. Since you’re supposed to wait a few minutes he pulls you into him. Kissing you, his fingers grabbing your hair by the roots, body pressed tights against yours. Your panting when he releases you.

“You’re lucky this lipstick is magic.” He laughs noting it didn’t budge.

“Ready darlin’?”

“Now I am.”

Hand in hand you walk into the room. The door is tucked in a back corner so no one really notices either of you for a minute. That is until Captain America just has to pull up next to you both.

“Save me,” Steve whines.

Bucky can’t resist laughing at how visibly uncomfortable his best friend is. He clasps his free hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Come on, pal. Can’t be that bad.”

Honestly, it wasn’t bad at all. People keep a wary but curious distance from the two ex-Hydra agents in their midst. This means when the other team members want to have a minute away from their PR faces they just gravitate toward the two of you. He wants to dance with you but honestly, he’s too nervous to drag you out into the big middle of it all. It’s fun to watch the others dance and get a little silly though.

After a couple of hours, Tony and Pepper approach you.

“Come on,” Tony’s free hand grabs Bucky’s.

“What?” Bucky has no clue what Stark is playing at.

“Grab that gorgeous woman and get on the damn dance floor with us.”

Pepper smiles at you with a wink, “As much as I hate to agree with Tony, that Elie Saab you’re wearing is too beautiful to be a wallflower.”

A few light synth notes start and all the sudden you bust out laughing. “Foreigner?! Tony? Really?”

“This is a great song!” Tony’s face takes on a mock look of offense. Bucky doesn’t know the song but he’s not hating it, unlike some of the other stuff you had him listen to.

As the four of you begin to sway on the dance floor the crowd there thins out a bit. You’re still giggling in his arms. “Tony is such a lame ass.”

“What was that Sparky?” Tony shouts over the music.

“You’re a lame ass!” You shout back, Pepper belts a laugh and there are distinct snickers from the crowd.

You’re both laughing as he spins you out when the melodramatic chorus kicks in. The two of you manage some kind of waltz sway mashup, giggling like kids.

Natasha and Sam join you all and seem to be getting a kick out of the song choice too, singing along. As the song turns takes on a choral vibe you, Tony, and Pepper, along with a chunk of the crowd all join in. Bucky swears his face aches from smiling.

When it ends he can’t help but spin you into his arms and kiss you. A few whoops from around them makes it sink in just how public this is. Somehow he doesn’t really care. Your head falls back and your ringing laugh sends his heart soaring.

“Careful Tin Man,” Tony playfully elbows him, “wearin’ your heart on your sleeve there.”

Bucky thinks that Tony Stark had never been more right in his life.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #soft bucky #bucky fluff

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adhdisgay · 5 years

Note

hey same diagnose-meds anon i forgot to ask (bc of course) what ur experience with gettin a diagnose was if u dont mind sharing? thanks again 💚

not at all! I’m posting this one separately ‘cause I didn’t want the post to be too long.

so my sophomore year of college was #rough, and I knew that something was wrong. none of my friends was finding school as hard as I was and my GPA was dropping. I asked one of my friends for study tips, and after explaining what I was having trouble with, he actually suggested that I might have adhd. his sister had it as well and a lot of our symptoms overlapped.

I was nervous that I wouldn’t be taken seriously if I came in suggesting adhd, so I scheduled an appointment with our uni counseling center and expressed that I was having trouble with classes. I once again laid out all that I was finding difficult, and without me bringing it up at all, the counselor mentioned that I might have adhd. she gave me the name and contact information of a ‘specialist’ near my school that did testing (in addition to in-school resources for studying).

I told my mom, and while she was a bit unsure, she knows that anxiety runs in my family and has always been a strong supporter of getting help for mental health issues. she was seeing our family care physician back in my home town that week, and when she told her what was going on with me, the physician was extremely adamant that I come see her before getting tested.

what she failed to mention was that she wasn’t available to see me for two months. so I waited, and I waited, and I waited, until eventually I visited home and had my appointment with her. and oh boy, what an appointment that was.

when I described how school was going and what the counselor had said, my provider was extremely dismissive. she told me that I was probably just not trying hard enough or needed different study techniques. she told me to stop leaving classes halfway through even though I explained that I literally Could Not Stay sitting in classes that were boring for over an hour. there was a lot of her just knocking every concern that I had, and I got really frustrated.

when I mentioned that I wanted to try medications as an option but that I knew they weren’t for everyone, she flipped out. she explained how “she was a little ADD too, and you know, everyone is.” she said that she tried stimulants once and they made her feel terrible, they make everyone feel terrible, I shouldn’t even try them. she went on to tell me how she knew that a lot of college kids wanted stimulants to help them with assignments, but if I just buckle down and do them then I don’t even really need Adderall, do I? and since she knew I was working, she pointed out that I didn’t need any money I would have gotten from selling the drugs. I just stopped talking and tried really hard not to cry haha

when I left, she said that if I really still wanted to be tested, then I’d have to schedule another appointment with her in a different month and they’d do bloodwork, etc etc. I have never gone back to see her, for anything. neither has anyone else in my family.

once I got back to school, I immediately contacted the specialist and set up an appointment for a few weeks later. I went and talked with him for a bit about my symptoms, he gave me a checklist, and bada bing, bada boom, I had ADD and a diagnosis (I think. I’m assuming? I wasn’t really sure what he was doing tbh).

I had to start seeing a general physician in the area since adhd meds are so strongly regulated, so I became a patient at a nearby family clinic. I brought a note from him and gave it to the doctor, and she is who I’ve been seeing ever since. I’d have to stop by the clinic every month to get a new prescription, and I’d have to actually go in to see the doctor every 3 months just to check in.

my physician now is amazing and so kind, and she’s been really receptive to how my side effects are treating me. she almost took me off my meds once because I was losing too much weight but I figured out a more steady diet and she kept me on them. she is approachable and listens to me and has always been very informed on how my meds work, and I highly recommend finding someone who treats you the same way. if your provider isn’t supportive, find another provider.

hopefully your experience is less stressful and doesn’t take as long! there isn’t a standard way of diagnosing adhd so you might go through something different to get a diagnosis. either way, again, make sure you’re with a provider that listens to you and is obviously trying to do what’s best for you. don’t stick with someone who is dismissive just because that’s who you’re used to seeing.

I wish you luck!!

#anonymous #ask #diagnosis #long post #personal tag

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clericfication · 2 years

Note

hi, please do feel free to ignore this ask if it’s a bit too personal, but I’ve seen some posts/tags from you discussing chronic illness and specialists. I am having my first specialist appointment with a rheumatologist for symptoms that i’ve been having for a long time (referred by primary) and i am very nervous about not being taken seriously (especially as i am on the spectrum and have depression/anxiety). do you happen to have any tips or advice? again please ignore this if it’s too much and i hope you have a lovely day/night!

hello! no worries about it being too personal, i’m more than willing to discuss my health issues at length 😂 (especially if it helps someone else in some way) however, i will try to be vague bc people just scrolling their dash may not want to know. i’m also on mobile, so sorry if the formatting is weird;;

i also want to make a full disclosure up front: i’m currently undiagnosed, fumbling my way through this, and have only been taken seriously within the past year. but we’re in the same boat with being on the spectrum and having depression/anxiety, so hopefully i have something that helps!

- write down a list of your symptoms, with the ones that effect you the most at the top of the list. you can also write down questions you have or anything you want to make sure you specifically address during the appointment.

so, for example, i had an appointment with my gi specialist on thursday and i’m still considered an anomalous case by his standards, but we’re trying a medication to see if that helps at all with my gi symptoms. i have my annual physical at the end of the month with my primary and i’m going to bring a list of things i want to address: my list of symptoms, everything my gi specialist said/what we’re doing, some questions i have regarding my past six years of bloodwork (despite being told i’m “normal”, i have been routinely outside of normal ranges in specific types of tests), and (funnily enough) i’m going to ask for a referral for a rheumatologist (i’ve accidentally scared the shit out of my coworkers a couple of times within the past few weeks from things i thought were normal things joints do which apparently aren’t normal and they made me promise to bring it up 😅) and possibly a cardiologist (based on my previous history, some very specific current symptoms, and two separate people bringing up the possibility of a specific syndrome)

i started this one because every time i’d walk out of a doctor’s office, i’d realize that i’d forgotten to either talk about a symptom or objective bc i struggle a lot with remembering everything in the pressure of that kind of environment and having it written out helps.

- speaking of environment, the appointment may be fast/hurried. it may differ from doctor to doctor though. my gi specialist is in the room with me for five minutes at most, while my surgeon (who has a similar amount of patients) takes his time and talks everything through - my surgeon was the one who realized something important last year and that realization now affects the way me and all of my doctors now address some of my symptoms. ultimately, i think it just depends on how they run their practice.

- you can also bring someone you trust with you to the appointment, whether it’s because you want them to help in some way (like making sure you don’t forget something) or even just for moral support. sometimes office staff may push back and ask if it’s absolutely necessary and you can say yes, it is absolutely necessary. they shouldn’t turn someone who’s with you away.

- i’ve found that if you say you researched something on the internet (whether that’s a syndrome/treatment/anything), it’s almost always met with skepticism to the point of not believing. if you have something you want to bring up that you’ve researched online, i’ve found that bringing it up more in a “when i talked to my friend/acquaintance/coworker who was in a similar situation, they said this thing helped them - maybe we can find something similar that helps me?” tends to be taken more seriously.

(if you want and if it helps, you can totally namedrop me as your friend who told you 😂)

- honestly the biggest piece of advice is: please don’t be like me and accept that you’re “normal” if the tests they run come back in normal ranges. this isn’t to scare or intimidate you, but my cautionary tale is that i started developing all of my symptoms around early-2010s at the earliest, 2016 at the latest. i repeatedly got told i was fine, nothing was wrong, so i ignored quite literally everything my body told me - which, in 2021, landed me in the hospital for a week because i had to have an emergency major surgery because i didn’t realize something (unrelated to my chronic issues) was wrong between my high pain tolerance due to having chronic pain and ignoring all of my discomfort and all of my symptoms.

the thing i want to stress the most as someone who was gaslit by the health system for so long: if you’re experiencing symptoms on a regular basis (whether that’s daily, weekly, monthly - if it happens repeatedly and the symptoms themselves are consistent), there’s something wrong and you’re not crazy. please listen to your body. obviously i’m not sure what you’re experiencing, but if you’re in pain, if you’re dizzy, if you tell someone who is healthy something and they say that’s not normal, what you’re experiencing is not normal. Your primary doctor has referred you out for a reason - they are taking you seriously and know that you need a specialist’s help. doctors practice medicine - they are not all-knowing. if someone doesn’t take you seriously, you can ask your primary doctor for another referral and get a second, third, fourth opinion, until you find someone who does take you seriously.

i’m absolutely sure i’m forgetting some kind of tip, but if i remember anything else, i’ll make sure to reblog this with new information. i’ll also try to find some of the articles i’ve found helpful and reblog with those links. i hope i helped a little and that i didn’t scare you 😅

unfortunately, health issues can be a hard thing emotionally and in terms of money and time - my askbox is always open for you to rant, rave, or ask for more advice. i can also give you my discord information if you want it to discuss things more in depth, but if you’d prefer to stay anonymous that’s fine too! i hope you have a lovely day/night as well 💕

#ask

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ayeletinthemountains · 3 years

Text

2020 in Mountains

I’m not saying anything new when I say 2020 sucked in many ways. Now that I’ve gotten the required acknowledgement of 2020 as a total disaster out of the way, I can get to documenting and appreciating what I was able to experience this year. This post is long because I was able to take three months off in between jobs, which featured many adventures, and it also goes over the many life changes I made as a result of COVID which have very much affected my mountain activities.

Winter

I started off the year leaving my job on January 2nd and jumping into enjoying three months off before starting my new job. How I got so incredibly lucky with the timing (getting to freely travel the last 3 months before the pandemic took over the world??), I’ll never know. I am so thankful for it, so glad I took advantage, and really just take it as an affirmation that you need to enjoy life instead of working 24/7. You never know when a global pandemic will happen and throw all your plans in the trash.

I spent the first part of winter driving around California, Utah, and a little bit of Colorado, skiing and ice climbing while training for a bigger trip to Ecuador. I love these open-ended mountain days where you just do whatever sport is best for the conditions. I went to Ouray for the first time, and I really enjoyed the ice park. I look forward to going back someday and hopefully hopping on a route or two in the backcountry as well.

My natural belay habitat.

Ecuador

The biggest part of my 3 months off was a trip to Ecuador. I had been itching to get some high altitude experience to prepare for objectives like Denali. I ended up going to Ecuador simply because it was the right season to go there, but it did not disappoint at all. For once I did a guided trip because, a) I had no partner readily available (having only signed up for the trip maybe 8 weeks before?), and b) I wanted to treat myself to not having to figure out logistics in a foreign country for once. I went with the company Alpine Ascents, and they definitely have the trip well-dialed. Every accommodation we stayed at was plush (we stayed at a high altitude hot spring resort as part of acclimatization, best acclimatization ever), the food was delicious, and the guides were kind, knowledgeable, and all around great. In particular, Jose Luis Peralvo, the head guide, was such a pleasure to be around. He is an incredibly experienced guide (300+ Cotopaxi ascents, 3 Everest ascents), super encouraging (I promised him I’d lead some pitches on El Cap when someday Leo and I climb Lurking Fear), very patient, and so good-natured. I would love to climb with him again (Antisana someday??).

On this trip, we attempted to climb three high altitude peaks: Cayambe (18,996′), Cotopaxi (19,347′), and Chimborazo (20,564′), in that order. With my previous altitude record being Mont Blanc (15,777′), these would each be new records for me. The conditions on the first climb, Cayambe, were challenging. We found ourselves in a damp cloud layer that covered us all in a thin layer of ice. I was shocked how slow I was moving, which was hugely demotivating. I made the mistake of letting my mittens get frozen from the moisture of the cloud. When one of the guides suggested we turn around at about 17,500’, I reluctantly agreed and felt very down on myself the whole way down. But with no vis (and thus no views), miserable conditions, and challenges with the altitude, I think it was the right choice. At the time I felt very down on high altitude mountaineering and wasn’t sure it was for me. It really is hard knowing you’re moving so slowly compared to your normal experience in the mountains. Thankfully, the next summit attempt, two days later, went much better. On Cotopaxi we had perfect weather, and my acclimatization was starting to kick in. I was still moving very slowly, but found myself able to keep going (though I also did collapse on the summit). This summit hugely lifted my spirits and made me feel like I just needed to give my body more time to acclimate. This felt especially true when on the last summit, Chimborazo (over 1000’ taller than Cotopaxi), I was the fastest client in the group. Cotopaxi track. Chimborazo track.

Now I feel prepared mentally for my next high altitude trip, whenever it may be. I know that my body can acclimate, it just needs the time to do so and I need to be patient.

I would go back to Ecuador in a heartbeat. The mountains are beautiful, the food is delicious, the people are kind. While I would not typically travel somewhere to climb a peak a second time by the same route, I’d climb Cotopaxi again without a doubt. It’s one of the most beautiful mountains I’ve ever been on. I keep telling Leo someday we’ll do an Ecuador trip to climb Cotopaxi (and stay at Tambopaxi again, of course), and an ice route on Antisana (hopefully with Jose Luis!).

At the end of my Alpine Ascents trip, I took advantage of the fact that I was unemployed and in Ecuador and spent a week in the Galapagos on a cruise that visits many different islands. This was far from the normal type of trip I take (I didn’t climb a single mountain!), but I loved it. The hype is real: the Galapagos is a very special place.

After returning from Ecuador, I stepped back into winter in the Western US. Since February had been incredibly dry in the Sierra, I took the change to climb some peaks on my list in the Eastern Sierra: Thor Peak in the Whitney Zone (track), and Cartago Peak (track), my first peak from 395. Winter decided to return immediately after, which made for some fun skiing.

Fairy Meadows

The last thing I did before starting my new job was a hut ski trip in Canada. I had managed to convince Leo, Becca, Lita, and Nikhil to all sign up for a trip to the Bill Putnam Hut in Fairy Meadows in BC. Being a good enough skier to make the money spent on a hut trip worth it had been a dream of mine since I learned to ski, watching my sister Dafna go on these types of trips every year. I’m probably right on the edge of being a good enough skier… But I made it work. We had 7 days of blue skies and sun, letting us ski all over the area. It was my first time really skiing glaciated terrain, which was a great experience, and I summited a few peaks as well! Most notably Adamant Mountain, which is very challenging to do in the winter due to avy conditions. Sadly, for this one, I retraced my steps down the bootpack with my skis on my back since I was too nervous about skiing this no-fall terrain above open crevasses, but it was still a great experience. All in all it was a great trip with good friends in an extraordinary place.

This trip was March 14th to 21st, so it happened very much while the whole world was shutting down. I had hemmed and hawed constantly in the lead up to it, feeling very anxious about whether we should just cancel and whether we’d be able to get back into the US. In the end, I decided to drive instead of fly, to reduce contact with others and still be able to get back to the US should all the flights be canceled. In retrospect, I think it was a pretty risky choice, but I’m also glad I went since “nothing bad happened”. We ended up being the last trip to the hut before they canceled the rest of the season, so there were of course many jokes about how they should just fly us in some food on the helicopter and we’d just stay there to wait out the pandemic, what a dream! (How foolish we were to think this might be over relatively quickly). It was definitely surreal coming back to the hut everyday and sending out InReach messages to learn what had changed in the world while we had been out skiing. I drove from Rodgers Pass to Seattle on March 21st, spending the night at Lita’s (since we had been on the trip together anyways), before making the rest of the drive back to San Francisco the next day and sitting on my couch for a week waiting for my new job to start. That week I stayed home, Tahoe got incredible powder and it was so hard to sit it out, but it was the right thing to do given the circumstances.

The next few months, like most people, I basically stayed home, trying to run for fitness while we cooked a lot, took on new hobbies (gardening for me, sourdough for Leo), and grew our home gym equipment.

Summer into Fall

As summer approached and we learned that the danger of contracting COVID was much less severe outdoors, I finally started to venture outside. My first forays were tagging some OGUL peaks in Tahoe, and I definitely learned I had lost some hiking fitness. But it was great to finally be back in the mountains, tagging random summits with no people around. This also helped get my legs back into hiking shape for what became a great summer.

Our close friends Marco and Daiyi had been in Mammoth since the pandemic began, seeking out more open spaces to be outside during the pandemic. They decided they wanted to make it permanent and asked us early on in the pandemic if we’d want to move in with them in Mammoth. Leo and I initially said no, because so many small towns were begging people to stay away and not bring the virus. But as things changed over the next 3 months, we came around to the idea. It took some persuasion, but I finally convinced Leo we should just go for it. Housing is incredibly difficult to come by in Mammoth, but Daiyi was diligent and able to find a house for us all to rent together, starting July 1st.

Leo and I did not move in until mid-July because of the big thing in Leo’s life: meniscus surgery. It had taken his doctors months to diagnose he had torn his meniscus the previous November, preventing him from running at all or skiing confidently. He had surgery in early June and wanted to stay local in the bay area for his follow up appointments six weeks post-op. Leo was understandably less excited about moving to Mammoth since he would be recovering from surgery and wouldn’t get to recreate as much. I was much more pessimistic (or, what ended up being correct) about the pandemic, and thought we’d still be in Mammoth by the time he was more mobile, and so we moved! We gave up our apartment in San Francisco and went all in on our Mammoth lease.

I had wanted to try living in the mountains ever since we finished our six month van trip in 2017, and we finally found the time to make it happen without any repercussions to our careers. Now that we’ve been here for seven months, we both love it and have no interest in returning to the city anytime soon.

So, living in Mammoth, I removed 13+ hours of driving from every weekend of my life and found myself so much closer to many of the peaks I’d been wanting to climb. Our first weekend in Mammoth, we tackled Dragon Peak out of Onion Valley which ended up being a very fun scramble. This was the first of many “Mammoth to Mammoth” adventures!

When Ariel is dressed in all of your clothes so you think she is you in every picture. :D

Some of the other highlights from my summer season included:

Red Slate Mountain: I’d been saving this to climb via the couloir, but decided to finally just go for it in summer in light of the fatal accident that happened the previous year. This was my first outing with Mica, Daiyi and Marco’s dog, and she killed it! I have to say, getting to watch whatever funny things a dog does on a hike makes it so much more entertaining and joyful. This was another Mammoth to Mammoth one, which is just such a treat to sleep in your own bed and still have a full day in the mountains. It was also the second of many peaks I climbed with Daiyi, and it became such a joy to do these slogs with my roommate that brings her own stoke! Rafee was there too. :) Hi Rafee! And Brice and Sadie joined for the first third, with two dogs as well! The red colors of this area are so pretty – an excellent way to start our new life in Mammoth. Track

Sleepy dingo on the summit.

Tunnabora Peak and Mount Carillon: These are two fun peaks in the Whitney Zone and just, wow, I was able to do a casual weekend trip to the Whitney Zone! In my previous life, driving all the way to Lone Pine was a big ordeal – something I could only do maybe once or twice a season. And here I was solo on a random Saturday to just climb some peaks. It ended up being a gorgeous day on two fun summits with a swim in the highest named lake in California! Track

Mount Goethe: This was a fun scramble (albeit with a long approach). The scramble from Alpine Col was really enjoyable with some fun exposure. And I got to do this on a Sunday and not get home at an absurd hour! A good day out with Rafee. Track

Mount Thompson: Another fun scramble with Rafee. The ridge from Ski Mountaineers Peak to the summit looked pretty nuts and like it would not go, but sure enough there was a way. Also, this was less than 15 mi and 4000 ft. Always a treat to find an SPS I have left that is relatively short! Track

When Rafee doesn’t know what to do with his hands on the summit.

Mount Warren: Honestly, this peak is not very enticing and is really just a talus slog in the summer. But what made it special was it was my first peak just Mica and me! It took a peak that would typically be one you’re just trying to cross off to being pretty entertaining watching the dingo run up and down the talus endlessly. And we found a few snow patches which she loved, which are hilarious to watch her roll around in. It was so exciting to see that she stuck with me and came when I called her. Thanks for the company, Mica! Track

The only thing Mica loves more than playing in a snowpatch is eating a squirrel.

Bloody Mountain: Another peak that isn’t notable in the summer, but it was Leo’s first off trail hike post-knee surgery, and he did it in honor of my 100th SPS! It was nice to finally get back into the mountains with him :) especially for this exciting occasion. Track

The only time I’ve carried more gear than Leo! Thankfully, he did not get used to it.

Disappointment Peak: Perhaps my biggest individual day of the summer in terms of hours? A year prior, I had finally promised myself 2020 would be the year I join some days of the Sierra Challenge. But then the pandemic happened and I felt less stoked on trying to spend time with new folks. This was the one day I decided to join (largely because I was most excited about the opportunity for this peak). However, due to chance of thunderstorms and my not being Bob Burd speed, we started before the rest of the group and didn’t connect much with them, sadly. Regardless, this was a challenging yet excellent peak. Heading up the snowfield to the ridge was a bit thought provoking since I hadn’t spent time in crampons in months, and the scramble below the ridge had challenging route-finding. It felt really good to be able to cross this one off, one of the harder peaks on the SPS list. Track

Mount Davis: My biggest self-sandbag of the summer. When you expect a peak to be about 20 mi round trip but it’s actually 27... woops! Daiyi joined me for this peak along with her friend Phil that was visiting. They had planned on a backpacking trip, but canceled due to smoke. I convinced them to join me on this peak in Ansel Adams Wilderness, and they were great sports when it ended up being more than 30% longer than expected with endless talus… Always fun to get to visit Thousand Island Lake though! We had planned to meet Leo (who was building up his on-trail hiking mileage) at Thousand Island and hike back out together, but we were about 5 hours behind him due to my poor planning… Always learning! Track

Such good sports even though I totally sandbagged them!

Labor Day Peaks Extravaganza! Center Peak, Caltech Peak, Mount Ericsson, Mount Stanford: After doing a smattering of peaks over Labor Day weekend the year before, I was excited to do something similar this year – taking the opportunity to get pretty far into the backcountry. Luckily, Daiyi was also interested in a trip like this! The only requirement was that we include Caltech Peak on the list, since Daiyi had attempted it as her first ever backpacking trip with Caltech classmates (though they didn’t end up summiting). We entered over University Pass (my first time up it), taking the wrong chute down the other side and losing a lot of time due to our mistake. From there, we did a carry over of Center Peak, camping at the last lake before Forester Pass. We had also hoped to climb Junction Peak that day and camp on the other side of Forester Pass, but knew that was aggressive. We woke early the next morning, headed over the pass, and did a carryover of Caltech Peak. This was actually a lovely scramble, with interesting route finding down the other side. From there, we headed over to Harrison Pass where we got to drop our packs for the first time. We did the scramble up Mount Ericsson, which was also quite fun and interesting. We headed back to Harrison Pass, where Daiyi opted to sit out the last peak of the day, Mount Stanford. I found this scramble to be spookier and looser than I was expecting and almost bailed, but managed to add this last summit. This brought me to three remote SPS in one day! All the while, smoke had been creeping in from the Castle Fire down in southern SEKI. I got back to the packs maybe an hour before dark, and Daiyi and I descended Harrison Pass to the basin to the north, finding a nice campsite near a lake. Pro tip: there is no longer a trail at Harrison Pass, despite what maps may show, which we learned the hard way. :( We were worried about the smoke, thinking there was a good chance we’d hike out in the morning and cut our trip short. When we woke, the smoke did indeed seem worse, so we called the trip and headed cross country to the north past Deerhorn for many miles until we finally hit the JMT. We learned via InReach on the hike out a new fire (what was actually the enormous Creek Fire) had started the previous day and the smoke at home in Mammoth was insane. When we crested Kearsarge Pass on our hike out, we were hit with an even thicker wall of smoke. It was absurd to see folks having campfires back at the Onion Valley Campground. While the horrible fires cut our trip short, what we did accomplish was beyond fun, and I was so glad we got out on a challenging trip before the forests closed for the next two months. Track 1, Track 2, Track 3

Mount Hitchcock: Once the Creek Fire finally got some snow on it and the forests opened up, there were several good weekends for getting into the high country (albeit very cold!). I again went to the Whitney Zone, this time with Rafee, Sarah, and Peter (who I hadn’t seen all summer!). It felt so good to be back in the Sierra. This peak itself wasn’t a particularly interesting climb, but this area is just so gorgeous that it was still worthwhile. There were a good amount of people taking the trail up Whitney, of course, so it’s always funny when they ask you about your plans to summit when you’re talking about totally different mountains. Track

Summit social distancing, lolz.

Mount McAdie: My last real peak of the year, before more substantial snows came (though it was hike-in-your-puffy cold). I was happy to take advantage of Kavya’s tendonitis from climbing, so she was looking to hike! Despite having been in the Whitney Zone not too long before, it was still nice to be back. I though the scramble up McAdie was nice, in a lovely position. I can’t wait to go back for Irvine! Track

Climbing

I didn’t do as much alpine climbing this year because Leo is my main alpine climbing partner and he was healing up from surgery. With the gyms closed, I was still determined though to not let my arms totally atrophy, which meant I climbed outside a lot (well, a lot for me). I led a lot more than I have in past years (again, not saying much, but I’ll take it!), and I’m excited to keep working on it, even though it’s not my primary sport. Going to the local spots in Mammoth in the summer was really nice on weekdays, and then as we moved into fall and winter, Owen’s River Gorge has been a great place to get some mileage in. I don’t hate cragging as much when I just think of it as an alternative to the gym. :D And it’s important to keep climbing so I’m prepared for the climbing goals I’d like to accomplish this year now that Leo is back in action!

Training

With finding myself having far less expenses moving to Mammoth and no longer having a gym membership, I decided to take the plunge and hire a mountain coach via Uphill Athlete in July. It’s hard for me to measure the gains since I haven’t had a full summer season with a lot of training under my belt, but it has been a huge help in keeping me motivated and actually exercising nearly every day. Not to mention that before I could hardly get myself to do strength workouts or stretching, but now, since they’re on the schedule that I’m paying for, I do them. I’m feeling good and motivated, and I’m excited to see the dividends the training will hopefully have this coming summer.

Everything else

Moving to Mammoth has been such a joy, and I am so thankful to be here. I am so thankful that I am employed at all, and that I can work easily from an amazing place like this. I had been wanting to try moving to the mountains for a number of years, and I’m so grateful for this opportunity (even though it did come in such an awful way). 2020 definitely affirmed that life is short and I need to seek out the things I love; it had been so silly to delay all this time. People always ask if we’re here permanently, and I have no clue. I just know that we’re here for now, and it’s the place I want to be most right now. So we’re signing another year-long lease, and we’ll go from there.

What did I check off my list from last year?

Here I’m pulling my list of goals from last year seeing how I fared:

Making more mountain friends – well, there was a pandemic. I get a pass on this one 🙅‍♀️

Ecuador peaks – I climbed 2/3! I’ll take it ✅

Training for Ecuador, and continue training for the future – hell yeah I did this! ✅

Getting better at skiing – I did this a bit, but the end of the season was cut short due to the pandemic 🤷‍♀️

Spending some days at the Sierra Challenge – I did one day! Again, pass due to the pandemic. Will need to do at least two days this coming year :) 🤷‍♀️

Clyde Minaret via the 5.8 50 Classic – Did not do, saving this to do with Leo who was broken 🤷‍♀️

Lone Pine Peak via the North Ridge – Same as the previous 🤷‍♀️

Split Mountain (my last CA 14er) – The trailhead was closed due to a fire the previous year, so I let it go 🤷‍♀️

Boundary Peak – I didn’t do this and have no excuse. Now I live one hour from the trailhead! 🙅‍♀️

Reaching 100 peaks on the SPS list – I did this and then some. Ended the year at 113 ✅

A potential Orizaba trip over the winter holidays! – Haha, another COVID loss 🤷‍♀️

….maybe a big wall with Leo – Had been thinking about this in the fall, and then we had the Creek Fire, sigh 🤷‍♀️

Not a great showing on my goals for the year, but 2020 was about rolling with the punches. Pretty happy with what I got to do instead, all things considered.

Things I’m excited about in 2021

Keep training. Gotta stick with it

Keep getting better at skiing. I live in Mammoth. There are no excuses

An Alaska trip in the summer for some big peaks :)

Clyde Minaret & Lone Pine Peak with Leo. Now his knee is fixed so no excuses

Red Dihedral on the Hulk. This the easiest classic route on the Hulk, and I’d like to give it a go as my big rock climbing goal for the summer. Leo loves this place so much, so I’d like to experience it

Lurking Fear, or a different big wall with Leo. Probably in the fall. Another carry over from 2020

Tower Peak with Leo and his Dad, running a good amount of it! This would be a 35 mi day

30 SPS this year! I turn 30 this year, so 30 SPS is the goal :)

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moonraccoon-exe · 7 years

Note

Papa Ravus and twin daughters -3-

Hello and sorry for taking so long! Hope you understand it’s taken me a while.

Here’s the first Papa Ravus post, and here’s the “Ardyn with twin daughters” post that seemed to have inspired requester to also drop this one. :3

It’s been a while since we’ve been in Papa mode, but let’s see what happens (˙︶˙)

Ravus with twin daughters:

Ravus chose to be single dad, romance is not much his jam but he does want to have kids, so he requested to rent a belly/womb.

King Ravus himself went personally with the lady who accepted the offer and he asked her “as a human being, not as your king, if it really is alright with you?”

Ravus asked she was medically tested first just to make sure it’d be as safe as possible for her to get pregnant.

Ravus worries that because of “a tantrum of my own” (which really ain’t tantrum, Ravy, it’s okay to want to be single parent

This man was put through so much pain in so many ways he’s grown a ridiculously huge heart and wants everyone to be okay.

His own cold, blank-faced way, but rly he’s just a cinnamon roll.

I am digressing.

Ravus checked on the pregnancy process almost daily.

You should have seen his reaction when he heard it was twins.

“My, what do we have here? C: King Ravus, it’s a baby girl!”

Ravus’ eyes go wide and he loses his breath and his heart drops to his feet.

“And she’s in company of a twin sister! Isn’t that wonderful, your Majesty? :3″

The doctor requested somebody bring him a chair and some nurse bring him oxygen.

No kidding.

Ravus literally loses the breath at that, he clutches at his chest and a hand blindly looks somewhere for support.

The gods bless there’s a nurse there to help him sit down and help him recover the breath.

“Ohmygod, your Majesty please calm down ;____;”

Eventually Ravus was able to recover the breath.

He’s so pale the nurse isn’t sure if he has to ask the doctor if they should make some blood transfusion

“Are you alright, your Majesty?”

“Yes, yes…I uhm…it was…shocking. It was only the initial shock. I expected a child; two is a surprise. That’s all.”

“A very wonderful surprise, isn’t it!? :3″

Ravus opens the mouth to reply but all that he does is shut the mouth and nod, looking upset in some way nobody can read.

Omg everyone shut up bc nobody’s sure what’s in his head.

Ravus goes back to his blank expression and unmovable attitude for the rest of the appointment and then goes back to his chambers.

Lunafreya is there (nobody died and no years of darkness AU because I need it okay, shut up)

“Brother! How did it go? :)”

Ravus breaks down in front of her.

He just looks at her in total silence some moments, and then his face transforms into a frown of mere pain and sadness.

Ravus stays quiet for some long seconds just looking at her with his ever-second-more-pained expression.

He puts the head down and just starts crying.

Lunafreya approached him, worried, and grabbed his hand to silently guide him nearby a chair. She had wanted him to sit down but he didn’t, he just kept the hands on his face and cried and cried.

She sat instead, and he went down on his knees in front of her and she let him rest his head on her lap, and he cried and cried while she caressed his hair.

He seems so broken omg Lunafreya is EXTREMELY WORRIED.

She’s thinking there were bad news, that they could have lost the baby, that there were complications or something as terrible.

“…they’re twin girls, Luna” Ravus cries out to her, unable to stop crying. “I am having two baby girls…”

Luna takes a moment before she understands and feels great peace in her heart.

Still she doesn’t stop caressing his hair.

“But then why are you crying, brother? (˙︶˙)”

“…I am just…so happy…”

Ravus is so happy it literally hurts.

This poor creature.

He cried to exhaustion, the poor thing.

He’s impossibly happy, he’s also a bit sad because he doesn’t understand how “after all the terrible actions I did in the past” he “deserves this amounts of happiness and this blessing”, and he’s excited but also a bit scared because he’s going to be a first time dad, and he’s not sure he can handle two girls.

It’s not that he’s scared of not being capable of handling them, it’s that he “doesn’t want to ruin their lives”.

Ravus please you’ll do great just calm down

If you thought him overdramatic by checking on the pregnancy daily, imagine him now that it’s close to the day of birth and that these are TWINS

Omg he read on the net that that’s twice the risks

Ravus, stop reading on the net, it’ll only make you more paranoid

Don’t worry, everything turned out fine when it was the day

Ravus tried to be present during birth but he exited bc he’s so tense and nervous he’s sure he’s going to pass out

But as a dad he’s in debt with the lady that rented him her womb so it’s only right that he stays by her side during the pains and all.

The doctor is sure Ravus passed out at least twice

Nobody can tell because he’s sat on a chair at a side holding the lady’s hand and sometimes he rests the forehead to the bed

At first they thought he was just trying to calm down

Doctor now swears he actually passed out multiple times

Ravus has a poor management of emotions, please comprehend him

When they were born, Ravus refused to hold them because he’s shaking too much

He only looked at them in total shock and when they offered he carried them, he just tried, burst out crying, handed them back and he had to go a long way between crying, exiting for a breath, walking around, crying a bit once more and taking another breath before he was capable of trying again.

Which was good, that gave time for the babies to be with biological mommy (that’s so necessary post birth omg the poor creatures are terrified and need their mom)

Wow I thought I had nothing to say, I’m a deep way into this and the babies are just being born

I hope you’re not bored, anon

Ravus just gives me so many feels, Papa!Ravus skyrockets them.

When he finally held them, he didn’t let go in hours.

He only let go when the doctor requested it and explained they needed to be looked after just to make sure it’s all fine.

All the time he held them Ravus was super quiet and he looked between serious and sad, but wasn’t crying anymore.

The next few months, Ravus is switching all his attention (that doesn’t interfere with the most important king duties to attend) between attending the babies and the lady.

Ofc they ain’t married and she’s not gonna be there after she heals, but if she needs recovery that’s bc of pregnancy and she did it so Ravus could have his baby girls,and pregnancy isn’t easy in any moment so he’s in debt with her

That’s a gentleman doing things right, people, attending and being properly grateful

You learn from him

King Noctis sent Ignis and lady Iris his way; Ignis can attend minor royal duties for him and Iris can look after either the babies or the lady.

Not like Ravus doesn’t have his own advisor and attendants, but a little extra help never harms

He’s a king but he’s also a human being being dad for the first time YOU LET HIM TAKE THE CROWN OFF FOR A MOMENT, OKAY!? >:(

Once the lady recovers, he’s dedicated that time for his babies.

You should have seen this man preparing the room for his babies

He was a bossy mess of “BUT WHY THIS TONE OF GREEN, I ASKED EMERALD NOT GRASS THEY’LL BE MY PRINCESSESS THEY DESERVE A PRETTIER GREEN >:(”

“BUT WHY IS THIS CRIB SO FAR FROM THE OTHER- you know what never mind get rid of these cribs I WANT A DOUBLE SIZE DONE, these are TWINS, they HAVE to be together, WHAT WAS I THINKING”

“OHMYGOD I KNOW I HAVE TO BE IN COUNCIL RIGHT NOW BUT IF I LET THE PAINT DRY OUT THEN THIS TONE OF PURPLE WILL BE DIFFERENT TO THAT TONE OF PURPLE, DO YOU WANT THIS ROOM TO NOT BE PERFECTLY SYMMETRICAL!?”

“what if they don’t like green”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S PRETTY LIKE THIS, NO, THIS BLOODY PAINT WHAT WAS I THINKING I NEED AN ARTIST I CAN’T DO IT MYSELF”

“what was I thinking this is beautiful but has no emotion”

“WHY DID YOU BRING ME THIS SHADE OF WHITE, IT’S LIKE CLOUDS AND I ASKED PEARL”

“Ravus, you’ve painted this five times already”

“I NEED IT TO BE PERFECT >:’‘‘(”

He still can’t handle his emotions.

But don’t worry this happened long before the babies had to occupy the room so all paint is dry

They stayed there a few hours

then ravus grew paranoid and had their crib be taken to his room

all this effort just so he ended up with them in his room

Ravus is randomly waking up in the middle of the night to check on them, even when they don’t cry

He likes to spend a lot of time just staring at them

Both have his shade of grey on the little locks of hair on their heads

Ravus likes to stare because each time he finds something like a birthmark, the way or direction the hair grows, the shape of eyelashes, little tics, etc

Besides, like in the original post, he’s philosophied so much on the meaning of ‘daughter’ and ‘twins’ that he’s marveled by their presence, and it’s a strange concept and he loves it

Ravus is scared of learning to change diapers

It’s his Magitek arm

He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt neither of them

At first he tried learning with only an arm

He grew frustrated

Look at how adorable of a dad this man is:

Ravus is going to wear a wool glove on his Magitek hand so that it’s soft and warm to the touch for baby girls

He’s grateful for attendants and nannies because having a baby is very time consuming and he has TWO newborns, and he’s in charge of an entire kingdom, but really he wants to learn all that a normal dad and mom learn and spend time with them.

That’s why he’s changing diapers even though in theory he doesn’t even need to

Little girls won’t allow anybody that isn’t Ravus to bathe them.

They’ll complain and cry if somebody tries, and Ravus has to go hold them and do it himself.

Ravus likes to bathe them at the same time, so they spend time together and that way he’s not taking the eyes off neither of them

Baby girls are spending the while together, but really their main focus is given all to Ravus

They’re staring and giggling and making grabby hands at him all the time while he’s bathing them instead of playing together

Ravus isn’t what you call ‘Playful’, so he’s not playing with them; he’s just taking a motherly care of them and worrying

Whenever they make grabby hands at him or seem impatient, Ravus caresses their cheek very tenderly and lovingly, and they either burst giggling or make a baby soundof agreement/pleasure

Ravus is mostly blank faced even now with his kids

Except now it isn’t “I am angry at you, him, her, they, us, it and myself and I hate the world” kind of blank face, but rather “I am calm, a bit worried, quiet”, looking almost sort of naive, even.

Ravus takes his time bathing them.

He’s scared of accidentally hurting or dropping or any accident happening

He’s the silently-paranoid kind of dad

Sometimes baby girls like to splash water on each other; Ravus smiles every time

The babies are a lot like papa, and they aren’t a hyperactive mess, even though they do laugh and giggle and like to play around

When they started crawling, Ravus started crawling with them

He didn’t think about it, he was just sat on the floor with them, and suddenly a baby girl pulled herself on hands and knees and started crawling

Ravus was SO AMAZED

It was like a kid discovering a fairy; he’s all *GASPS* WOAAH .A. and so without thinking he starts crawling after her/at her side, staring as she crawls

Baby girl #2 got inspired by her sister and papa and started crawling too

“*GAAASP .A.”

Please don’t open the door,there’s a .o. faced Ravus crawling after a pair of babies

Ravus likes to put bows on their heads; Baby girl #1 always wears silver ribbons and Baby girl #2 always wears purple ones

Ravus isn’t fan of dressing them the same clothes because he doesn’t want to confuse them

“Why do people do that, anyway? Why do they enjoy suffering finding out ho is who?”

“Ravus, you can identify which girl is which when they’re only in diaper”

“Yes, but what if I see them from afar and can’t tell which is which?”

“Ravus, it’s just cute that they dress the same.”

“It’s ridiculous. Each is an independent and strong baby, each should have her own style.”

“…Ravus they’re seven months old.”

Still, Ravus just doesn’t see the point in dressing them the same

He does, however, enjoy dressing them in something that matches but isn’t the same

Like same design of dress, but different colors

Or one wears Mickey the other is Minnie (can I have Disney in FFXV pls)

Ravus wanted to be the one in charge of teaching them to walk.

The man got extra soft foam mats especifically for this task

If they’re gonna fall, they better land somewhere extra soft

Ravus spends hours just teaching them

He’s incredibly patient, you wouldn’t believe it

Whenenver one of the girls gets to walk some steps, he’ll receive her in arms and cuddle her for some moments, giving encouraging phrases, and then he’ll continue trying so they improve

Even after they master their walking, he’s going to stay there still “teaching them” just for the hugs

The three love them, dammit

Ravus lived a tough military life so he’s not playful, but he tries to have fun with the girls

If they wanna poke him, he’ll let them; if they want to make him laugh, he’ll chuckle; if they want him to chase them, he will..he’s not going to be roaring and making dramatic faces, but he wlil chase after them because he knows they’re having fun

Ravus, his own way, is sort of having fun too

Baby girls are yelping out and giggling when he’s after them

He stays quiet but smiles and chuckles at times

Omg you should see these girls when they think it’s safe, and suddenly Ravus appears by the corner

“AH!!!! AHAHAHHAHAHAHA! o(≧▽≦)o”

Ravus is just there like (˙︶˙)

Baby girls team up to “attack” him

Ravus always let them win

Ravus can hear and sense them when they’re hiding behind something or under something, but he won’t say a thing.

He’ll even get in a vulnerable spot and position on purpose, so that they can jump onto him.

“Oh! Oh no, you have got me! Oh, no, you are so strong, I cannot stand back up. Oh, no. The pain. I surrender; I surrender, my princesses.”

Ravus is a bad actor

But baby girls don’t know that and they’re SUPER PROUD OF THEMSELVES AND THEIR SISTER OMFG THEY WON AGAINST DADDY! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Baby Girl #1 likes to chew on his ear when he’s down there being attacked.

Baby girl #2 likes to smack his back

Baby girls, ever since they were tiny, like to takea cloth and rub on papa’s Magitek arm for some reason

They want it to be SHINY

Ravus let them

Ravus was very wary of letting them nearby his arm, but he’s picked them up with it, has changed diapers, bathes them, and he figures he’s got no reasons to worry; it’s metal, but it’s his arm, after all, so he controls it and he would never do any harm to his babies

The babies may be quiet like papa, but they’re still incredibly curious

They’re trying to grab everything

Ravus used to be a paranoid mess

He got used very quickly to the girls’ constant attempts of grabbing everything that he’s mastered the technique Catch Them Without Looking

Baby girls trying to take the sword, he’s calmly taking it and putting it away

baby girls are trying to undo the belts of his boots, he’s reaching down to put them away

Baby girl #1 is trying to grab a glass and Baby #2 tries to grab a coin, Ravus keeps talking with Accordo’s first secretary without taking his eyes off her and grabs both babies without moving from his chair.

Baby girls like to play with his hair

Baby girls, when they grow to like 4 or so, start refusing to sleep until Papa goes say goodnight

Baby Girls call him “Dadvus” for quite a long while

Ravus isn’t sure who gave them the idea, but he’ll find them and probably smack and thank them at the same time

Ravus thinks art is very necessary in life, especially as a child, so he’s taking them to so many orchestra concerts and plays and dance performances.

Baby girls love it and always are a mess of clapping and cheering

Baby girls are performing their own dances in their room

Sometimes Ravus joins

Usually he just has to stand there and move the arms a little while baby girls dance around them

Lunafreya says it’s like a daemonic ritual and they’re sacrificing him to the gods

Ravus is also trying to get them into literature

He’s bought so many children book, he could make a library out of them

He does, actually

He gets an unimportant small room of the palace and asks it be turned into a library for his kids

As ages go it turns into the girls’ safe heaven

Every time Ravus knows one of them is sad, he’ll go to the little library and she’ll probably be there

Ravus is the best at comforting

Ravus understands pain very well, so he understands that it’s not about making them laugh; he’ll sit with them or lie at their side (Girl #2 particularly does lie on the floor when she’s sad) and he’ll just stay in absolute silence all the time

Usually baby girls end up crying and climbing onto him or snuggling at his side

That’s when Ravus hugs and kisses their head, but still says nothing

Curiously, it’s that he never asks what’s wrong and only offers his company what makes the sisters grow confident and trusty enough to tell him without being asked

Ravus likes reading to them when they still don’t know how to

He’ll sit with both on his lap and the book in front of the three, so he reads and teaches them like that

Ravus won’t skip the page if a baby girl insists she reads it until she gets it just fine

Ravus can spend an hour in the same page just to let them stare at the drawings and repeat the same words

(sometimes they get so excited they read an entire sentence they’ll repeat it over and over)

Ravus sits at a side of their bed (the girls still want to share bed) to read them bedtime stories

When they were like 5 they asked him to do it but lie in bed with them

Ravus doesn’t get the point of holding a book above his face , it’s tiring

He’s not complaining just because each twin is snuggled to each of his sides

Sometimes Ravus doesn’t bring a book; he’ll just lie in bed and tell them stories

At first he was telling them stories he had heard or learned or that he remembered (maybe sometimes altering a few facts, bc it may be too explicit)

He soon starts inventing his own stories

Papa Ravus has more than once fallen asleep there telling them stories

The twins’ even breath, so calm and peaceeful, and both so warm snuggled at their sides, it’s very soothing and he just…falls asleep

If King Ravus isn’t in his bed at morning, he’ll be at the girls’

Ravus has FAR MORE THAN JUST ONCE

as in SO MANY MORE TIMES

SO MANY TIMES

woken up with rainbows and other things drawn on his face

Seems like it’s a genetic thing bc baby girls are showing themselves to be early wakers, except they’re still kids so they wake up even EARLIER than Ravus himself

Thank the gods Ravus always showers before starting the day or he’d have….

….well it DID happen twice or three times, in his lazy days, that he went to have breakfast before showering

He’s got moogles drawn on his face

He’s going through the hallways of the palace greeting everyone, with moogles drawn on his face

Speaking of moogles, the girls love them

SO MUCH

It’s from the days Iris spent as temporary helper in the Fleuret palace, and once the babies were crying so much but they weren’t hungry or sleepy or dirty, so the only thing Iris thought about was to give them a moogle plush toy

Ever since then, the girls want EVERYTHING moogle themed

The room is moogle themed; walls and bedsheets and plush toys and their old onesies and their pajamas

Ravus has sworn to Lunafreya he will burn the room as soon as they grow tired of it

“Why do you hate moogles?”

“I don’t have them. But they are obsessed. I’m getting tired of seeing so many moogles.”

Ravus once held a moogle plush in hands and glared at it

“…of course it had to be. My curse, set by an Amicitia. Bloody Amicitias.”

Ravus had to agree once to dressing like a moogle mascot for his kids during winter celebrations

How can anybody say no to those sparkly, huge, beautiful grey eyes?

Ravus is not going to repeat that

He would have, if Lunafreya hadn’t taken photos of him

King Noctis has been sending him moogle memes ever since that day

Speaking of eyes

Each baby girl already claimed one of their father’s eyes

Ohmygod that sounds so creepy

Baby girl #1 says that the silver eye is hers, and Baby girl #2 says purple one is hers

(see what I did, it’s like the colors of their bows)

The girls aren’t allowed to touch the eye that isn’t their own

Because Ravus lets them touch his eyes

They are obsessed

“They are so pretty, papa, you don’t understand(」°ロ°)」”

Little girls are following Ravus everywhere, in a line, like ducks or chocobos

Ravus is mama hen

He’s going places and the twins walk in a line behind him

Whenever Ravus turns to face them, they’ll just look up at him and smile and say nothing

Ravus won’t question them

Ravus is letting them walk into the Council room and everywhere else except the bathroom

As they grow and Ravus starts attending his king duties with the time they require, baby girls start following him even more

Sometimes when they are “playing” (Ravus still plays in his strange style) and Ravus is called somewhere else, the twins will tackle or throw themselves to him screaming “NOOOOO” and try to stop him

It always worked when they were tiny, they landed on him and he was thrown on the ground helpless, right?

Nope ahahaha

Ravus is standing up with the girls hanging from him and going where he’s needed

There’s king Ravus, with a girl hugged to his back and the other hanging from his magitek arm

They’re biting him

Ravus is so strong and big he can just grab them by the back of their shirt or dress like they’re lion pups and put them down and away

Baby girls are waiting outside the council or throne room, sat in the hallway, arms crossed and refusing to leave until papa comes out

They’ll leave if Ravus, before or during or after his duties, gives them The Stare

It’s not mean or aggresive, it’s just a stare with a slight raise of the eyebrows and a slight tilt of the head that says “Baby girls, this is not right and I ask you to be good, please.”

Baby girls usually understand and stand up and behave really good with the nannies and allow them to walk them back to their room or the little library or the gardens while papa does his stuff

Ravus was put through such a harsh training and education when he was taken by Niflheim that he’s grown very wary and a bit terrified of nagging, and that’s why he sounds so soft with his girls

As in, he doesn’t like raising his voice at them or frowning or nagging them as normal

He’s trying to raise them in a way so that he can have soft but firm conversations and interactions with them so they don’t grow too pampered but also so he doesn’t have to raise his voice at them or anything

He’s just….so affected after Niflheim, that when he raises the voice just a notch at them and he sees their big and innocent eyes, he feels like he’s torturing them or something and he doesn’t want to be the bad guy :(

Ravus is raising them the “let’s express our feelings” way

“Clean your room, please” instead of “Look at this disaster”, “It’s time we go; say goodbye” instead of “how long are you going to make me wait?”, “Do not leave my side, okay?” instead of “where do you think you’re going?”, “Listen to me, please” instead of “I’m talking to you”, etc.

You thought Lunafreya could make a big change in his personality?

Pfft. She ain’t gotten nothing compared to his daughters.

The girls like to cling from his legs

There goes king Ravus through the hallways of the palace, with a girl hugged to each of his legs

Ravus is very strong and they weight nothing, so sometimes he literally forgets he’s got these pair hugged to his legs

He once walked into an important reunion with Niflheim’s Chancellor (a good one now that everything is peace, fight me) forgetting the girls were clinging to his legs

Remember how Ravus is grateful for nannies and such but wants to learn all that other dads and moms learn too?

Ravus asked Lunafreya to teach him to braid hair

The girls behave a lot like fairy tale princesses so they like to wear pretty hairstyles, and Lunafreya’s attendants or Luna herself always comb their hair as they want

Well Ravus wants to do it too

It feels important

Ravus was actually very slow at learning

It was already rather difficult on him, a Magitek hand isn’t much help

Ravus is practicing with a wig, and the hair sometimes gets stuck between the articulations of his metal arm

The poor thing isn’t giving up

He wants to be able to do this for his daughters

Ravus is going to practice every single day :’)

It took five months before Ravus dared try on Lunafreya

Ravus is the slowest person to braid hair

THE SLOWEST

He’s still scared of causing any harm and he’s nervous, so he’s doing it very slow

Luna’s neck and back hurt after sitting wtill and tense for so long but she’ll say nothing on it

Ravus has self-esteem but after Niflheim it’s incredibly fragile, so he needs this confidence

It takes him another 5 months of practicing with Lunafreya before he dares try with his daughters

King Ravus is always late to his duties from then on

“What were you occupied with, your Majesty?”

“My daughters wanted a double braid.”

His daughters are more important than his kingdom most days FIGHT HIM

During royal balls, Ravus will always ask his daughters for a dance

He carries both and dances with both at the same time a song, and then he’s dancing with each one individually

It’s super adorable

He does that ever since they were babies and couldn’t even speak yet

When they were babies, Ravus would carry them and dance himself

When they grow and can walk no troubles, it’s even more adorable because Ravus has to bend down (unless the girls ask him to pick them up)

Giant Ravus bent down and reaching the hands down so baby girl can take them and they can dance

Ravus was very moody when they started going to school outside the palace

“How can you all trust your child’s education to absolute strangers?”

Ravus, that’s….that’s your Tenebraean people, you should trust these teachers

Ravus never had anything against school until his daughters started going

Don’t worry he’ll grow used to it

Ravus is secretly sending undercover guards to make sure the girls make it safe to school and back

Like they don’t already have the man that picks them up

Ravus has tried going himself but #KingDuties

“Fuck being a king ヽ(`⌒´メ)ノ“

“RAVUS! Language D:”

“…gently fuck being a king.”

Don’t worry he doesn’t really hate it, he just gets moody lapses

Little girls still enjoy wearing their bows

Ravus now can braid their hair and decorate it with bows

He actually enjoys doing that

It’s very relaxing and he spends time with his daughters, so

He’s fan number 1 of braiding their hair

He lets them braid his hair

He’s letting them put bows on it, too

Whenever he’s in front of the media, Ravus is going to ask each of his daughters if she wants to stay

All the flashes, so many people, and all that noise can be overwhelming, so he’s not forcing them to stay if they don’t wanna

(I stole that from Britney Spears,omg, that’s a good mother)

Ravus is going to watch all the kid movies that the girls want to watch

Ravus will agree to dressing as the prince or hero of the movie for them

King Ravus is enemy number one to King Noctis on the social sites of internet during Night of All Saints (All Hallow’s Evening equivalent of Eos that I just impprovised); who’s got the best costumes, the Lucian king and his companions, or king Ravus, his sister and the little girls?

It’s almost always a draw

The girls behave like fairy tale princesses

Fairy tale princesses that love playing in mud

Some of Ravus’ clothes have had to be thrown because the girls always rush to hug him when they see him and sometimes they’re covered in so much mud, Ravus’ usual white clothing gets eternally stained

The only thing Ravus isn’t willing to do is cut their nails

He gets very nervous

Perhaps it’s a subconscious reminder; Niflheim gadgets, torture tools, all the weapons he saw, etc., so it just makes him very nervous to get something that he knows works to cut nearby his daughters

Ravus and his liking for art and how important he considers it to be lead him to teach music to his daughters

Except it’s been so long since he last had any music lessons himself

Niflheim and a war got in the way so

He’s re-learning with them

Ravus used to play cello, but he hates the sounds he’s making now due to his metal arm on the strings and the different sound it cause

So he’sp icking up flute

Metal against metal too makes sound, but what maters is what comes out of the air not the fingers

this isn’t an excuse for flute player moon raccoon to force flute onto one of its fave characters

Twin girls are picking Viola and Cello duo

Twin girls team up to still attack Ravus

Ravus now is showing “resistance”

Really he’s not fighting, just catching them beforre they land on him

Ravus will teach the girls into self-defense arts and the use of rapiers

Twin girls are going to grow becoming AMAZING fighters

Another thing similar to original post happens:

“Papa, can we get our own Magitek arm when we grow up, too? (ノ*°▽°*)“

“No.”

“〣( ºΔº )〣 BUT WHY ＼(º □ º l|l)/“

On their ninth birthday, Lunafreya gifted the twins one of those necklaces that splits in three parts.

The twins didn’t even need to ask, they ran to go gift the third part to Ravus

Ravus expressed later on to Luna that he would have wished it had been four parts because “you’re my family too, and theirs.”

Lunafreya explained that she knows and that nothing can change that, but there’s something very particular and special in the father-to-daughters bond, she wanted them to have something that’s only theirs

Ravus is going to wear it, along Lunafreya’s childhood moon necklace, every single day until the very same day that he dies

Ravus likes to sit at the gardens at night with both his daughters just to talk about anything and everything

He likes sitting among the flowers, not on benches

The three also enjoy of the silence of the gardens.

No matter how busy he is, Ravus will always go say bye and wish his daughters a good day at school before they have to leave

No matter how busy he is, Ravus will always go wish them goodnight

If Ravus can, he will move appointments or duties to later in the evening just so he can have lunch with the girls

Ravus will allow the kids to “camp” at the gardens

He’s also secretly placing a guard for the night to watch on them

“Papa, we want a chocobo :)”

Ravus wil get the damn chocobo no matter if he has to go to Lucis himself

Ravus will ‘scare’ the kids that he thinks are mean to his daughters

Really he just needs to stand there and frown a bit to said kids for them to run away

There’s not another kind of kiss that Ravus loves more than forehead kisses for his daughters

Each morning, each night, he’ll kiss each their foreheads

He also likes to caress their hair as he does, or when they’re asleep

Even when they’re grown and in separate beds, Ravus sometimes still wakes up in the middle of the night to go check on them

He always tucks them in if they’re uncovered, and give a kiss to their heads

His girls are truly a blessing to him, he still can’t understand how he deserves this happiness and these precious girls, so he may be a bit overprotective and a bit “exaggerated” about loving them.

Ravus sometimes gets poetic with them about it

He has expressed to them about how he “loves them so much, I get frustrated because all the years of my life will not be enough to demonstrate it as you deserve, but if this is the only life I have got to do it, I will dedicate it entirely to you.”

He doesn’t mean that he’s going to gift them every second of his existance, just that everything he does will be done dedicated to them, thinking about them

Which, as consequence, drives Ravus to become a much better person of himself each day, and helps him to be the best version of himself :)

Aaah! Now that was quite a post! ( ´ ▽ ` )

I hope you liked it anon, I put lots of love and time in here so I hope some of that love is visible in there ♡ ～(‘▽^人)

Tell me if you liked it? ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

#papa ravus #papa series #ravus is such a soft and tender dad #he's got so much love to give #his own way but lots of love anyway #coon answers #coon writes #coon headcanons #coon stories

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