#this moment has been living in my head rent free for nearly a week

[chrollohearttags]

When I Pull Up • Connie Springer

wc: 4.0k

author’s note: plug!connie (and the aot men in general) has been rent free in my frontal lobe for a while and I had to do it, even though a bitch don’t smoke. it’s just sum bout this hc.

cw: drug use/weed, car sex, constance getting a lil possessive over his fav buyer like ugh, choking, fingering and pussy play, breeding, squirting

____________________________________

"Ugh, I wish he'd hurry his ass up."

a very irritable and impatient (y/n) muttered from the comfort of your soft bed as you glared up at the ceiling of your room.

your iPhone lying flat against your ample chest as your folded arms cradled it.

it was currently eleven p.m and time was passing just as quickly as your will to wait was.

frequently lifting the device from your torso to check for any signs of a notification...

hoping the sought after text you had been waiting on would pop up.

you were listening to music, red LED lights strewn across the ceiling and the rest completely dark.

honestly, you had been bored out of your mind when out of the blue, your plug hit you up asking to chill. He said he'd smoke you out and you didn't pass up the offer.

truth was, he was fine as fuck, an absolute sweetheart to you and always have a little extra so you loved being around him.

finally, your phone illuminated and the name you wanted to see most appeared on your screen.

Connie  🍃🥺

I'm outside

instantly, you perked up and shot out of bed. Making sure you were decent, you'd go over to take a glance in the mirror.

long, jet black bundles hung down your back, a strapless neon green dress wrapping your frame and gloss covering your plump lips, you were set to go.

it was late and your roommates were either out in the streets or sleeping peacefully. Regardless, you'd creep through the dark living room and out the front door.

parked on the curb was an all black Charger; chrome rims and tinted windows on the exterior.

walking the short distance from the steps to the passenger side, you'd fling it open and be greeted by faint traces of smoke and cologne, along with that handsome face you had been waiting to see.

"Aye, gorgeous.

"Hey, Connie!"

from the moment you sat down, you felt pangs in your stomach and your body burning up.

dressed in a black muscle shirt, grey sweats, tattoos all down his arms, stud diamonds in his ears, gold watch on his wrist and gold slugs on his bottom row of teeth, Connie greeted you with a hug and nearly made your heart explode.

he looks so fucking good! And that voice, oh my God! Why is doing this to me? This man is trying to turn me into a slut so bad.

it was all you could think to yourself; so spaced out that you didn't even hear him talking to you.

"(Y/N)!"

his smooth voice snapped you out of your trance and you'd whip your head around towards him.

"Oh! Sorry.."

"You good, mama. Was just asking how you been. I missed you..ain't seen you in 'bout a week."

every time he spoke, you felt yourself melting into the bright red leather seats. He was so damn sexy, it didn't make sense!

brushing your hand across your arm, you'd glance down at the floorboards as you nervously answered.

"Yeah, just been busy. Staying out the way, you know how it is."

all the while, his eyes were glaring you up and down before he reaching down to grab something from the glove compartment.

"I feel you though. Well I'm glad you came to chill with me tonight. 'Preciate it."

"Of course, I'm glad you invited me."

in his hand, he held some papers, and a lighter, taking them out to start your session. Music was thumping quietly from the speakers and the hum of the engine were the only things you heard.

you didn't even want to move around him because he made you so flustered.

taking out the buds, he'd break them down as he spread the crumbs across the papers. The green flakes filled the brown sheet until it couldn't fit another ounce.

you'd watch his perfectly manicured fingertips move delicately across it; he was a natural.

even when doing the simplest task, he managed to turn you on. He'd run his tongue across the crease and you had to squeeze your thighs together!

flicking it around so casually..made you wish it were you..

suddenly, you were broken out of your trance by him calling your name.

"Here, you go first, beautiful." taking the blunt and letting you place it between your lips, he'd grasp the lighter to ignite it.

you'd take a drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling and releasing a cloud. He was mesmerized, watching you closely.

eventually, the two of you went back and forth, passing and taking hits until nearly half it had disintegrated.

by that time, smoke cloud had filled the car and your lungs.

your heads lie dormant on the cushioned rests as your seats reclined back and you'd just glare up at the ceiling in your euphoric haze.

he always had the best shit and it didn't take long for you to get high.

during the smoke session, you'd tell him about everything that had been happening in your life: from school to your new job, even how you had started your new fitness journey.

that's what he always admired about you..how goal oriented and smart you were.

it was so attractive and if he wasn't out here, doing all of this shit, he would've been tried to cuff you..even so, it didn't stop him from wanting you in the slightest.

especially now; looking so cute slouched down in the seat, eyes glazed over but still just as beautiful.

"Y'know I'm always proud of you, (y/n)..always making shit happen, never depending on nobody for anything. I like that."

his head was turned, glaring you up and down with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

he couldn't even hide it anymore. You had his attention in more ways than one and he was hoping you'd felt the same.

he couldn't stop staring because you looked so damn beautiful sitting next to him.

but he wouldn't have to worry in the slightest because you wanted him so badly, even if it was just one night. He couldn't be your man but you'd take him right here if that's what he wanted.

"Yeah? For real?"

scooting over in his seat, Connie leaned over the console and brushed his fingers across your temple and down your shoulder blade.

"Hell yeah..smart and you fine as fuck? I know these dudes stay pressing you, huh?"

honestly, you didn't pay them any mind! None of them really caught your attention quite like Connie and you weren't concerned with what they thought.

shrugging your shoulders, you'd just laugh it off and stare up at him.

"I mean..sometimes but I ain't thinking about them. Got more important shit to worry about."

all the while, you'd hadn't take your eyes of each other.

right now, you wanted to feel his lips..his hands rubbing up the curvature of your body..and that's exactly what would happen when he leaned further and got only inches from your face.

"Mmm..well lemme help you relax for a lil' bit, take your mind off all that shit.."

his voice had dropped to a low growl as he began to brush against your soft lips. You weren't even trying to stop him, instead you'd bring your hand to the back of his neck and pull him closer.

"Really? How?"

"I ain't much for talking, but I can show you.."

nothing else needed to be said because before he could get the rest of his words out, you'd begin kissing gently.

getting acquainted with the taste of each other's tongues. Swirling them around, smacking your lips together in slow, sensual pecks.

your hand resting on the cusp of his jawline while slowly curled the side of your throat.

your voices meeting in low hums and moans as you'd continue to make out. This was all you had been hoping for and with the feeling of the weed pumping through your veins, who knows where things would go.

"..I need you so bad."

and he'd show you just how irresistible you were when he'd bring his own to your neck and begin suckling on the tender part of it.

your fingertips caressing the back of his shaved head as his tongue piercing rolled off of your jugular vein, making your legs tremble.

(Y/N) could feel a throb between your legs and you'd try to squeeze them close but he wasn't having it.

"Nah, go ahead and open them legs for me, baby..it's alright.."

whispering with a low tone to his voice that made you even wetter.

you were already whimpering in his ear but when he brought that free hand up to your thighs and parted them, you'd release a sharp gasp.

"Shit!.."

chest rising and falling between heavy breaths as you held him close. All he could do was laugh because he hadn't even gotten started yet!

even though you had just been smoking, you were practically salivating at the way he handled you so carefully. He was like a completely different person right now..

finally, he'd reach that spot you had been longing for him to touch and he'd be greeted by wet warmth on his fingertips.

that made him grunt and suck his teeth.

"All this from a lil' kissing, just for me?.."

nodding your head as you chewed your lip, waiting for him to do as he pleased. That definitely put a smile on his face so he didn't keep you waiting any longer.

with the bezel of his watch shining underneath the dim lights, he'd bring his hand to your mouth and stick those two fingers inside.

as you'd gently run them across your tongue, big round eyes glaring so innocently..he'd prompt you to lift your legs in the seat so he could get a better view.

that beautifully shaven mound, dark and glistening with slick, spread open to a bright pink like a delicate flower.

right then and there, you could see a tent forming in the center of his pants and see him mumbling under his breath.

"Tell me something..how long you been waiting for us to do this?"

removing the digits so that you could answer him.

"Since we met..shit." garnering him a very honest response and he wasn't surprised.

he too felt the same way. So there was no need for either of you to hold back. Bringing his dampened fingers down to your warmth yet again, he'd began stroking your clit before slipping them inside.

"I'm glad to hear that..because I been wanting to fuck you for a minute now."

your mouth suddenly fell agape and your head fell back against the door as he explored your insides with those digits.

the sounds of your squishing flesh driving him absolutely crazy with lust but he held it together for now.

he hadn't shifted his gaze once and yet, you were crying out, squeezing your eyes shut as you rocked against his fingers.

your knees pressed into your chest and your back against the door handle.

"..so you gon' let me have it? Can I make this pussy mine?.."

there was no doubt or question about it!

"Y-yes! Take it.." with that notion, he'd shove them deeper until it reached the sensitive pad of flesh that made you tick.

squirming in the seat, he'd wrap that ink covered hand around your throat and choke you as he fingered that leaking hole.

it had begun to stain his fingers with a sheath of milky white but he wouldn't stop until you made a mess of the entire front seat.

moaning and whimpering, you'd beg him for more, knowing you were close to a climax.

"Connieeee! I'm gonna come..please."

but he couldn't allow it just yet. You'd peak down at his pants and notice that his bulge was barely able to be contained.

if you were going to release, you'd have to do it with him inside of you. Withdrawing his fingers yet again,  he'd rub your thighs momentarily to soothe your trembling legs.

"Get in the backseat, baby..on your back, right now."

he had to feel that for himself now!

so you'd do as he instructed and crawl to the open seats. Luckily, it was fairly spacious enough for the two of you to move around and he was about to take advantage.

climbing in behind you, Connie pinned your legs against the passenger door and tugged your dress down to your stomach.

he couldn't help but to be fixated on your breasts as they popped out of the thin material..

the cool air of his AC hitting your nipples and stiffening them up.

bending his six foot frame down to hover over (y/n), he'd bring his tongue across the buds and suckle on both of them.

"..You gotta hurry up and fuck me. I can't take it."

it wasn't exactly the most savory thing to say but it was the truth. You had to feel him right now or you were going to explode.

that throbbing heat was begging for something to puncture it.

laughing before leaving one last kiss on your right breast, he'd lean up and shuffle his sweats down his waist.

you could tell just by the print that he had a lot to work with and he planned to show you just what he could do.

when he pulled it out and laid it across the lower half of your stomach, you'd let out a gasp without realizing. Could you really even take all of that?!

"Don't worry, mama..I'm not gon' hurt you. Just relax and keep your legs pinned back for me."

he sounded and looked so focus. Maybe you weren't the only one struggling to handle this but the second you felt his tip grazing your clit, you'd start whimpering and pouting.

it was too sensitive from the teasing to stay idle.

"Can I put it in now, baby? You gonna take it for me?"

"Yes! Whatever you want.."

"That's my girl.."

he had to admit, it was cute seeing you plead and cry out like that but he wasn't one for making a lady wait so slowly, he'd push himself into your aching heat.

right then and there, he nearly lost composure but he held himself together to buck his hips forward.

his body was a little contorted but he was going to make it work and make love to you no matter what.

"Nah and you was holding this shit from me all this time? Goddamn.."

never in his life had he felt pussy like this! That grip you had on his fingers was nothing compared to the way you were clamping his dick right now.

he'd gradually gain his pace and eventually, the two of you were moving in rhythm.

for now, he'd feed you slow strokes so he didn't bust too quickly but you were nutting all over him..making a creamy mess everywhere.

"You could've been gotten this pussy, all you had to do was ask for it.."

smiles were wide on both of your faces as your frames swayed back and forth, connecting as one and as if you belonged to each other.

"You're too good to me, baby. Well..now that I got it, I'm 'bout to fuck the shit out of you. Hope that's alright."

he was so cocky yet done it in the most charming way..one that made you throb against his shaft yet again. By now, he had sped up and gotten a little more fitted to your walls.

each thrust coaxing out more of that warm, silky fluid that he loved so much..

"You're stretching me out..oh my God, yes." crying out in pure pleasure when you felt him go deeper.

"Here, take my hands, sweetheart. Let me know if it's too much for you, okay?"

he was probably the biggest and undeniably the best dick you had ever had!

but you had him feeling equally as amazing and by now, he had reached pretty deep strokes. Your tits were bouncing, legs shaking and mouth agape.

"Ahh!—you look so pretty, (y/n)..letting me drill your shit like this. I'm so proud of you..taking my dick so good."

with your fingers intertwined, he'd lean down and slide his tongue into your mouth, letting them twirl as well. Subtle moans humming through your pressed lips.

"And you're so fucking tight..but look at how quick you opened up for me..oh shit."

being doted on like this was causing butterflies to swell in your stomach and your cheeks to burn. Especially when his voice was ascending to a high pitch.

he wasn't ashamed to admit that you had him weak though.

soon, those laced hands creeped up to his shoulder blades to claw into his back.

he was pounding your sensitive pussy, going deeper and you didn't know how much longer you'd be able to withstand it.

that pressure was swelling and growing harder to contain by the second.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck...I'm gonna come, daddy! I can't hold it anymore, please!"

faint tears were streaming down your puffy cheeks from the restraint of being edged like that and you'd make one hell of a mess.

you tended to wet things up and quite a lot when you climaxed!

but all that did was make him more excited and rather than stop you, he'd press his thumb pad to your clit and stroke it while glaring into your eyes.

"So do it..the fuck you waiting on, mama? Get your nut, go ahead."

encouraging you to release. He could still feel you squeezing him pretty tight though. So he'd lean down and kiss your forehead with a smile to soothe you.

"If it's these seats you're worried about, don't. Squirt on this dick and you ain't ever got to worry about paying for my shit ever again, baby. Hell, I'll buy you whatever you want."

he'd keep feeding you long strokes and tracing circles on your clit until he felt wetness all over his shaft and watched you splatter his leather interior.

droplets of sticky rain all over those red cushion and it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

"Fuuuck! Connieee!"

"Let it out, I know! Look at all that cum!"

crying out and calling his name as you granted his wish.

needless to say, he was in awe of your little display.

"Yeah! That's it, baby..that's my good fucking girl, yesss!"

coaxing out all that he could until you were shaking and reeling from that pent up orgasm. Leaning down to kiss you, he'd first scoop some of your juices onto his tongue before spitting them into your mouth.

it would appear that you had turned him into a deviant..completely unhinged and crazy for you!

but now it was his chance to return the favor and fill you full of his cum.

"You're not getting rid of me now, you know that, right? You my girl now.."

whether he was serious or not, you knew you couldn't be done with him that quickly and he felt the same so he'd plop down onto the seat and pat his thigh.

"Is that right?" questioning as you readjusted to climb atop his lap and onto that still hard erect.

it was touching his bellybutton when he sat up like this and it had to be eight inches at least. You could get used to having dick like that in your life!

slowly, you'd get adjusted and impaled yourself on it.

"Hell yeah, so tell the rest of them motherfuckers to fall back unless they' tryna die 'bout this shit."

and you knew then that he was serious. You were definitely about to have a time on your hands but right now, you were only focused on riding him.

little did you know, you were about to put your claim on him too!

"Well you ain't got that to worry about, daddy..it's all yours."

you'd gently stroke his cheek as you got into position and pecked him once more.

you'd slowly ease yourself up and down while looking back and arching for his viewing pleasure. The grip you had on him made Connie toss his head back and just admire your work.

his voice was cracking and his fingertips were clawing into your bare hips.

it sounded so sexy hearing him moan and cry out for you.

"Aw damn, baby. You riding the fuck out of this dick..I love it. All this ass bouncing on my shit.."

meanwhile, you were winding your waist and bouncing up and down on his cock as if it were nothing.

you were just focusing on making him come this time around, wanting to feel that warmth inside of your womb.

"You like that? It feel good for you?" you'd ask as you glared at him with lustful eyes.

a rhetorical question for sure because his toes were curling inside of those Jordans and those moans were growing louder.

no one would ever guess you had a drug dealer crying like this! But he was egregiously desperate for you to keep it up.

"Yes! You're fucking me so good, (y/n). I'm all yours now.."

he was losing it by the second and when you decided to balance on your tip toes, hands pressed to the ceiling, he damn near flatlined right there!

"So come in me..come in this fucking pussy, daddy."

begging for him to release, you'd speed up and take him to the hilt as you coated him in more of those warm secretions.

he was trying to hold out but there was no need to because seconds later, you felt his hands clutching your frame and you were being impaled.

"Hold still! I got it.."

the pure helplessness in his voice was such a turn on but you were about yo get exactly what you were hoping for.

frozen, you'd stay in that position as he began thrusting upward and filling your tummy with his large member.

you'd sound off, trading moans and please, cursing as the intensity became too much to bare.

as he pounded your swollen cunt, you'd rub your clit yet again until you heard his voice fade off into a faint moan.

"Oh God—I'm coming..Imma nut—"

before the words could even finish making it out, he'd make his finish inside of you and pour every ounce into you.

and it wasn't just a little droplet..he dumped every ounce of that pent up cream into your womb, just as you asked.

and when he climaxed, his whimpers were absolutely adorable. You had never seen him so vulnerable before in your life.

finally, he'd collapse against the seat and as his chest rose and fell, he'd pull you back against him.

"C'mere.."

held tightly in his arms, he'd proceed to make out with you one last time and it was undoubtedly, the best night you had ever had.

"You my girl..my baby now so don't you ever forget that. You hear me?" Nodding as he spoke with such conviction even if he were out of breath.

you couldn't get over how cute he was like this.

the way he stared at you, it was more like love rather than lust.

"All yours. For sure." tracing tiny circles in his chest to quell his harsh breathing.

needless to say, your plug was about to be supplying a little more than weed from now!

#black fem reader #black fanfiction #black reader smut #black fanfic writer #fanfic #smut fanfiction #aot x black reader #black reader #wattpad #anime #connie aot #connie springer #connie x y/n #connie attack on titan

[mngo-jii]

Suggestion cuz this boy has been living in my head rent free for the last week

A Daniel x f!reader where the reader notices how much time Daniel has lately stuffed himself in the potions classroom and decides to drag him out for some butterbeer and fun at hogsmeade

“ A (reluctant) TRIP TO HOGSMEADE. ” d. page

wc: 1.1k

letter ✉️: i’m sorry this is quite short and probably not what you expected </3 this is the most i could muster up at the moment... i would wait until i'm in the best mood to write but i dont want to keep you waiting any longer

“You look knackered.”

“Well hello to you too, Daniel!” You grin at the familiar head of red hair, before it forms into an ‘O’ at the number of potions cluttered and sprawled around the table. You wonder how he’s been given permission to spend such an abominable amount of hours in the Potions classroom. But, you digress, this is Daniel after all.

“Jeez, Daniel. How long have you been here?” You stroll yourself around the table to meet Daniel’s face—who isn’t really looking at you but rather at his cauldron. “Don’t you think you should settle down for the day? We’ve only got 48 hours of full leisure, you know.”

His cauldron lights up, casting a purple glow on his face before he backs away with a hum to grab ahold of a bottle across the table.

“I could say the same to you,” he leans forward, keeping a steady hand to pour only a tiny drop into the mixture, before he straightens up once again and stirs it in, “Have you been running around the Hogwarts grounds again?"

You huff, brushing a strand of hair off of your face to get a better look on what he’s making. “Bored out of my mind, I tried to look for the others to go to Hogsmeade with—but everyone else was already too engulfed in their own thing! Though, you seem just as busy too—making... A hair-raising potion.”

“Alihotsy, actually. Why don’t you try Gosammer?”

“Very funny. Now—” You tug onto his robe, “Please please please, will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

He halts, eyes darting from your hand to your face.

“Agh... Are you really incapable of going on your own? You sound like a child begging to go to the candy shop.”

“Maybe I am! There’s this new cute candy shop down in Hogsmeade, or so I heard.”

Silence fills in the room for a split second.

“Besides! You could use a little fun. It’s been a week since you’ve went out of your way to hang out with us, spending so much time with your cauldron like it’s your girlfriend.” You grinned, swiping your finger on the edges of said cauldron as you earned an unamused look from the boy—“No.” He says.

You groan, planting your face on the surface of the table, defeated.

That’s it. You might as well just stuff your face into the covers of your bed and hope to god something extravagant happens, so you get the chance to stick your nose into it yourself.

Or, I can watch Daniel make potions all day... You considered, leaning your head onto the palm of your hand. It’s better than nothing.

Silence completely falls onto the floor of the room, engulfing you two in nothing but the bubbly sounds of the fermented potion.

Your eyes follow Daniel’s hands—grabbing several herbs from across the table, stirring the pot, fingers patiently tapping the table. And you follow the movement of the mixture, swirling, smoke emerging from the pot ever so often.

In contrast, Daniel had already rejected your offer—or rather pleas—to go to Hogsmeade with you. But he’ll never tell you to leave.

Part of him wishes he could, despite how he enjoys your accompany. He can’t help but shrink under your unwavering gaze as you watch his every move like he’s the most interesting thing in the world. Or maybe at the moment he is now, he can’t blame you for your boredom after all.

Before you found him, you had wandered about the castle, feverishly searching for who you may run into to hang out for the weekend. Though, nearly everyone else was busy—Robyn had already dragged Kevin off to play Quidditch (much to the boy’s dismay), Lottie had gotten into an art frenzy and have been constantly painting portraits all day, and Ivy is off to visit her nana.

At that moment, you felt as though you have already used the very few last drops of your energy walking around, and you started contemplating if you should just take a shower and sleep all day to rest your worn out legs.

You musn’t be downcast on a day free of classes and scheduled activities, it’s the only time you’re able to get leisure after all! Though you had hoped to spend some time with your friends. Yet, despite the tiredness of your legs working to find them, they’re already immersed in their own things.

Your gaze strips away from the cauldron towards Daniel’s face, deciding you cannot possibly take this. You had walked all the way here just to be thrown a big fat no to your face once again. But now, more importantly, this boy had stuffed himself in the Potions classroom as if it were his second home! He might as well drown himself in countless potions once the room is filled with them.

Before you could even say a thing, his shoulders rise up and immediately he plops his arms down on the table, as if he was defeated.

“Fine.” He surrenders himself to you, as always.

“But only before sundow—”

“Let’s go!” In a matter of seconds, he’s being dragged by his arm out of the classroom, completely neglecting the cauldron that had been left on the table.

"What is that...?" Daniel eyes you peculiarly.

You look back at him, your hands struggling to adjust the goggles on your face. "Orange Eye of Newt Goggles."

Daniel doesn't say anything as he turns his head with a lingering gaze over to you, before shifting his attention on the variety of accesories in front of him.

He allows himself to curiously scan the items—hats, goggles, robes, scarves, glasses... All shaped, designed, in such diverse and odd ways that completely oppose each other.

He doesn't react quickly as a shadow looms over him, before a peculiar object made out of straw is forcibly pushed down onto his head.

Daniel panics for a split second, feeling as if he's about to get sacked, only to go stiff at the sound of you stiffling your giggles behind him.

He turns to look at his reflection, seeing as ¼ of his head is swallowed whole by the biggest top hat he had ever seen.

"...Of course."

Long story short, the others found the two of you hours later on a window seat, drifting into a deep slumber after such a long day. You're practically glued together, the sound of peaceful breathing overlapping.

They're expecting Daniel to complain about it when he wakes up, but only the two of you know how smiley he was the entire time. Not like he would admit it.

Kevin studies the two of you further, leaning forward as if he had discovered something incredibly rare. Maybe it is.

He sniffs. "...Is that... butterbeer?"

#(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ— written by lnr #hpma x reader #hogwarts magic awakened x reader #daniel page x reader

[neuroticbookworm]

Current Tag Game

Tagged by my dear friends/mutuals/incoherent scream sesh partners @twig-tea (here), @colourme-feral (here), @blmpff (here), @telomeke (here) and @waitmyturtles (here)

Current Time: nearly 5:00 PM

Current activity: Doomscrolling on social media (not recommended), writing this post (highly recommended, please interact on Tumblr, that's what makes this hellsite fun!)

Currently thinking about: Just watched the IFYLITA finale this morning with my bestie @lurkingshan, so my brain is currently ??????-ing all the different iterations of Yai we got to see (I like that Commander Yai looks more self-assured and confident than our widdle-20-something-lost-and-confused-baby Yai, but, DEAR LORD, The Mustache has to go. Just.. nope. Get that man a razor, STAT). Oh, and also, thinking about dinner.

Current favourite song: I recently watched Utsukushii Kare / My Beautiful Man (Season 1) a few days ago and I have the song from the opening credits stuck in my head on repeat: Caramel / カラメル by Mosawo / もさを。(Original MV with English captions)

(I'm also gonna link the Utsukushii Kare Lyric MV from MBS because I want Kiyoi's pretty face on my post)

I've also been feeling nostalgic lately and listening to some decade-old bangers from my teen years (ah time, thou art a cruel wench)

Patakha Guddi lyrics, translated from Hindi, here

Mogathirai lyrics, translated from Tamil, here

Currently reading: Nothin' but meta posts from the lovely big-brained folks of Tumblrville

Currently watching: Oooooh. I actually wrapped up a lot of live watches and caught up on some incredible shows last week, so lemme do 3 mini-lists:

Recently Watched: Only Friends, Utsukushii Kare / My Beautiful Man, If It's With You / Kimi to Nara Koi wo Shite Mite mo, I Feel You Linger In The Air

Currently Watching: Midnight Diner / Shinya Shokudo, endless reruns of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Community

Next-Up on the Watchlist: I Cannot Reach You / Kimi ni wa Todokanai, Shadow, Dark Blue Kiss, Middleman's Love, Last Twilight, Playboyy, The Whisperer

Current favourite character: Ryuji from If It's With You.

< mild spoilers ahead for If It's With You >

This show did an incredible job portraying two people who have different levels/intensities of desire for one another and I was *floored* when Ryuji responded to Amane's confession in episode 4 with so much care, thoughtfulness and respect for both Amane's desire and his own boundaries. "Please make it one sided for a while" will live in my head rent free for the foreseeable future.

And Amane and Ryuji's conversation at the beach in the finale was another heartfelt and expertly written moment. I deeply adore how Ryuji basically went "I miss you and want to meet you whenever I feel like it, and if that means being a lover, then so be it. Let's date".

So yeah, I'm in love with this highly articulate, fictional, Japanese teenage boy

Current WIP: Ohhhhh man, SO MANY. The most pressing one is a retrospective meta on the Only Friends finale, which I must release into the wild before people move on from the show

Tags: I'm epically late to this one, so I might tag folks who have already done this, so if I do, apologies, friends!

@bengiyo, @italianpersonwithashippersheart, @sunshinechay, @syrena-del-mar, @ranchthoughts, @troubled-mind, @sorry-bonebag, @so-much-yet-to-learn and anyone else who wants to participate. No presh!

#tag game #this was a lotta fun! #in case y'all can't tell japanese bls have me in a chokehold #only friends the series #ofts #utsukushii kare #my beautiful man #if it's with you #kimi to nara koi wo shite mite mo #i feel you linger in the air #ifylita #midnight diner #shinya shokudo #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #b99 #community tv #i cannot reach you #kimi ni wa todokanai #shadow the series #dark blue kiss #middleman's love #last twilight the series #playboyy the series #the whisperer the series #Spotify

[callmebliss]

My supervisor called me back in today to ask if I’d made a decision about the promotion offer she blindsided me with last week (and put salary increase options down on a post-it for me on Monday)

I told her “yyyyyyyyyeah, I think I’m going to take it…” and was Not My Usually Smiley CustomerService self

“And the amounts are good?”

And in the back of my head I saw when I was sitting in that same chair, across that same desk, when she offered the position I have now and I accepted it as written and she laughed - LAUGHED - and scoffed, “suckerrrrrrr!”

That moment has been living rent free in my head for nearly two years.

“Well - do you think that is really the best you can do?”

She blinked. Didn’t expect it of me, I’m sure, because my go to is go along and get along. Blinked, and recovered.

“Well it’s the initial increase, and then the second bump after 90 days’ training and then your regular increase.”

Maybe I might have taken it. Except I’ve recently seen that being firm and not Nice to someone in authority made a really important change. And also because “suckerrrrr.”

“Even so.”

And I stopped, and held her gaze, and just waited.

Beloved reader, I saw her squirm.

“Maybe…fifty cents?”

Such a piddling amount, and yet it is more.

“Oh, at least. After all, I know how capable you are at making the argument, and I know you know how much I do for you.”

“I really DON’T pay you enough-“ Fucking right you don’t “I’ll talk to [redacted upper bossperson] and see why I can do.”

“Great! I’m confident you can do it well. After all, you know better than anybody the skills and value I bring to this organization every day, far beyond the boundaries of the job description.“

So the ball is back in the other court. We’ll see what she manages to bargain for. I’m going to spend some time tomorrow compiling an updated delineation of my skills, capabilities, and the special projects I’ve undertaken and ways staff lean on me even when I’m not in a supervisory position - including my own supervisor.

I have a Masters in English. I know how to make An Argument.

#life in blisstopia #get that bread #onward and upward

[yourheartonfire]

ok so i think you did this a while ago, but do you remember that one story you did with bug and everette and gingerly writing reposted it? that story has lived in my head rent free for weeks now, could you think of continuing it?<3

That's one of my favorites too! First part here, original prompt courtesy of @gingerly-writing, continuation suggestion by @avery1s .

CW for mind control and references to off screen dub con and other atrocities.

Later, everyone would collectively claim they had no memories of what they had done - what they'd been forced to do - under the Mad King's reign. A sort of universal spontaneous pardon, necessary for people to be able look each other in the eye and put out the raging trash fires the antagonist had left in his wake.

The protagonist wondered if everyone else was as much of a liar as they were.

Yes, most of those memories were colored a sweet hazy gold, like drowning in honey. But there were moments the protagonist had surfaced, where everything came into sharp relief even if their will was still wrapped in the antagonist's cotton candy mind control.

They remembered snapping to in the council room, kneeling beside the antagonist's chair as an offending minister danced an awkward and humiliated jig on the middle of the conference table.

"This isn't going to solve the grain shortage," the protagonist had said into the hum of the chatter.

The antagonist had nearly choked on his goblet of wine, and the witch king's crown jolted on his head. "Bug? How the hell-"

"You can swallow your pride or refuse the trade agreement or go to war," the protagonist said patiently, amazed at the sound of their own voice. "Only one of those choices doesn't end in starvation."

The antagonist flushed an angry red and grabbed his goblet. The liquid splashed across the protagonist's face. "You dare talk to me like I'm stupid?"

The wine stung the protagonist's eyes as they blinked up at their king in confusion. "Of course I wouldn't. I love you-"

Everett made a horrible noise and clamped his hand to the protagonist's forehead and they sank...

They swam back up again in a red-lit room, sitting on the king's lap before the dying embers in the fireplace as the court cavorted in lockstep through another interminable feast. There was no bread on the table and no smiles on anyone's face. Especially not the king's.

The protagonist raised a hand sleepily to trace the purple/black lines spidering down the antagonist's temples.

"I thought you were going to take this off?" they hummed, raising their fingers towards the crown -

The antagonist caught their hand in a crushing grip. "Bug," he breathed in an unsteady voice. "All the power in the world and you still show your freak face at the worst possible moment."

"All the power in the world," the protagonist repeated. Dimly they were aware their hand hurt in the antagonist's grip but they couldn't quite feel it. That was good. They hoped the courtiers who'd been ordered to stand in the fireplace hadn't felt it either before they'd died. "That's what you wanted. Why aren't you happy, Everett?"

"Oh I'm thrilled," he husked, hauling the protagonist closer across his lap in a bruising grip. "Never better. All my dreams come true. Tell me you love me again."

The protagonist snuggled into that cold embrace, closer to that galloping heartbeat that seemed to quite settle these days, and looked tenderly into their old rival's face.

"I hope you choke and die," the protagonist said sweetly, and wondered why the antagonist's face contorted with rage and magic-

- and they awoke in the royal bedchamber. Gray sunlight struggling through the rips in the velvet drapes, the watered silk of the settee grimy with dust. The antagonist's head on their lap as he sobbed into the protagonist's thigh.

The protagonist stilled, their hand still threaded through the king's overgrown hair where it scraggled down his neck.

"Oh." The antagonist sat back on his heels, wiping tears and snot on his sleeve. "Oh yes. Of course. My little fucking bellwether."

"Oh, Everett." Like moving through molasses, the protagonist drew their fingers slowly through the tangles. The antagonist shuddered. "Are you sad, Everett? Did you break too many toys? Did you order me - me! - to comfort you?"

The antagonist buried their head harder into the protagonist's thigh as the protagonist kept stroking. Somewhere along the way the antagonist had gone from cold to feverish. The protagonist sighed. "You should have listened."

"Just a few more to bring in line," the antagonist whispered. "And the rebellion in the west and the spies in the city and the rest of the disloyal lords..."

"They're all disloyal," the protagonist said. "Everyone hates you, Everett."

They looked up and the protagonist nearly screamed at the terrible black stained eyes staring back out from under the cursed crown. "It's almost done."

The protagonist grabbed for the crown.

They'd expected it to burn or to sting. They were braced for pain. But it felt like normal, cool metal in their hand. Except that it wouldn't come off the antagonist's head.

The antagonist laughed, low and bitter. "It's almost done," he whispered, climbing up to the protagonist's lap. "It'll come off when it's done."

"I almost feel sorry for you," the protagonist said, glaring as the antagonist cupped their face in his hands. "Almost."

"I know, I know. You warned me." And then the antagonist lunged for the protagonist's mouth and...

...quiet. And peace. The protagonist blinked gently awake to sound of songbirds and realized there was nobody in their mind but them.

There was someone else in the bed though.

When the surving ministers burst into the bedroom the protagonist was ready. The king's body had been arranged across the bed, ash and charcoal fragments from the hearth across his dessicated face and the pillows. The protagonist had scrubbed their hands clean of soot and huddled on the settee under a sheet.

"The crown crumbled," they whispered to the courtiers. "How did I get here? What happened?"

There was silence. Then someone cleared their throat and said "I don't rightly remember it myself," and a murmur of agreement rose.

There were questions and suspicion of course, but there was too much to do for imaginations to run wild. The protagonist performed a few weeks of work themselves before making their excuses and leaving. No one begrudge them their exit.

They hit the road with a few coins, their pack, and the witch king's crown angrily pulsing at them from its hidden place in its wrappings. The protagonist's anti-magic field was enough to contain it for now, but they were eager to get to the ends of the earth and dispose of the thing.

I did not create him, the crown murmured. I only enhance what is there.

"I know," the protagonist said out loud, and set out to see how far they could go.

#my fiction #hero x villain #heroxvillain #fantasy #Bug and Everett #gingerly writing #100

[pokemonispain]

The cold rain-Zhongli/Childe

(Really quick AN:  So I got this request a while ago and since I can only think about Childe at the moment, I decided to write this especially since all these artworks I keep seeing of him going to Zhongli injured to get bandaged up in the middle of the night lives rent-free in my head, still working on Aether's fic as well as my other longer fics STHIARL and Don't chase shadows as well as the next fic in the Chiscara agenda. But if you're wondering where I've been, shortly after getting out of the hospital and having the tooth that'd been causing me problems pulled my mom mom went to the hospital then an inpatient pt facility, and was gone for about 30 days total, she just came home yesterday so I'm taking care of her again. Besides that, I was visiting her every day etc either way sorry about not posting anything lately. Anyhow I hope you guys enjoy this fic I had a lot of fun writing it, especially since Childe is my favorite boy 😂❤❤)

summary: In which during one evening, Zhongli comes home to see Childe waiting for him.

Zhongli frowns slightly as he begins making his way home from the funeral parlor beneath the shelter of an umbrella. It’s fairly late at night, rain pouring from the skies as such Liyue harbor’s usual street traffic is practically absent aside from the occasional one or two passersby.

Tonight though was supposed to be the night that Childe and he would share drinks, typically at Zhongli’s apartment where they could have some quiet private time together or they would go out for food at Wamin restaurant, perhaps even train together.

Lately however for the past week, Zhongli has not seen Childe at all, while both men could be rather busy at times Zhongli does find it rather strange that Childe had not even stopped by once. In fact, Childe seemingly hadn’t been in Liyue harbor either, now that Zhongli thought about it.

He pauses for a moment as his scowl grows into a frown. Preheats he should go by Northland bank to check on Childe? But Zhongli quickly dismisses the idea as he continues walking towards his apartment.

Childe would come to see him when he had time as he always did. And yet despite his choice, Zhongli can’t help but feel that sense of worry grow slightly stronger.

~~~

Zhongli is a little ways away from his apartment when he pauses, a deep frown forming on his face when he sees something odd laying at the front of his apartment door.

As he narrows his eyes he realizes that it’s a figure, slumped to the side like a limp, lifeless rag doll, not completely outside of the rain.

Having a good idea who it was, Zhongli takes a deep breath in and sighs softly. It wasn’t unusual for Xiao to over-extend himself during his usual duties, Zhongli could count more than a few times he’d awoken to find Xiao laying curled up on the floor or ground practically soaked in blood.

As Zhongli begins approaching the figure though he pauses again, as his eyes adjust a bit more to see through the rain pouring down from the skies.

He can see that the figure is covered in red, no doubt smeared with blood but as he catches sight of familiar grey clothes and orange hair his breath practically feels as if it catches in his throat. His grip on the umbrella handle tightens almost subconsciously, nearly breaking it.

Zhongli’s chest seems to tighten painfully as panic and fear flares to life inside him, feelings so visceral he hasn’t felt them in Archon’s knows how long.

In the next moment, he’s rushing over to Childe’s side, his umbrella long forgotten it wasn’t important after all. Not right now.

“Ajax,” Zhongli called out and there’s an odd yet frantic, almost desperate edge to his voice as he stares at Childe’s limp form. He can feel the rain pelting his skin, cold as ice now that he no longer has his umbrella, but that doesn’t matter in fact it’s the furthest thing from his mind.

Childe lays on his left side, on the small welcome mat sitting in front of the door as if he’d simply been placed there. He’s practically motionless, those dark blue eyes Zhongli was so used to seeing were closed, blood smeared his clothing and skin.

Childe is pale as well, his face nearly the same shade as a sheet making the blood streaking his skin and clothing stand out even further. The blood doesn’t seem to be his considering that Zhongli can’t find any tears or rips in his clothing but at the same time he can’t be sure.

Gripping his shoulder firmly Zhongli isn’t surprised that Childe’s clothes are entirely soaked through with rain, but what does surprise him is the fact that he can feel Childe trembling.

This surprise however is good in a sense and Zhongli can’t help the wave of relief washing over him, it gives him a moment to breathe, to step back and assesses the situation, he does his best to ignore the worry writhing in his chest as he looks Childe over once more.

It is only now that he realizes he can hear Childe’s breathing, it’s a rough, rasping wheeze rattling in his chest. It’s painful, horrific even and Zhongli finds himself biting his lip for a brief moment.

Childe’s face is twisted ever so slightly into a grimace, a very faint red feverish blush coating his cheeks.

Removing one of his gloves, Zhongli places a hand on Childe’s forehead and winces, a deep frown crawling across his face. While Zhongli tends to run a bit colder than most people, even he is able to tell that Childe is sporting a fever, a dangerously high one too, to the point where it actually feels as if it stings Zhongli’s hand slightly when he first placed it on Childe’s forehead.

Placing his glove back on Zhongli reaches out and grabs Childe’s shoulder, shaking him in an attempt to rouse him.

It is only on the third time that Zhongli calls Childe’s name when the man’s eyes flutter open halfway.

If possible Zhongli’s frown grows deeper, Childe’s eyes are glazed over and glassy, lacking any of the usual sharp awareness they usually had. They roam around slowly, aimlessly as a very soft, heavily slurred groan slips from Childe’s mouth.

He mumbles something intelligible, a faint scowl appearing on his face as his eyes begin to slip closed again before Zhongli shakes him once more

“Ajax, I need you to stay awake. You are very sick at the moment,” Zhongli told him as he raised his voice slightly so that Childe could hear him over the pouring rain.

Another slurred groan slipped from between Childe’s lips as he mumbles something again, followed shortly after by a series of distinct wet-sounding hiccups that jolts Childe’s body. Then a moment later his body shuddered as he weakly retched up a wave of watery, thin, murky bile, the mess trickling down Childe’s chin and dripping from his lips to pool onto the ground beneath his cheek.

As Childe weakly coughed and spluttered, Zhongli reached out gently stroking his hair back and away from his face as Childe’s body shuddered with another weak retch.

As Childe choked up another surge of watery vomit adding to the rather decently sized puddle near his face, Zhongli scowled when he noticed something odd. Two white things, that appeared to be pills or some kind of medicine lay in the glistening puddle of vomit that was being slowly washed away rainwater surrounding them.

Truthfully if they had not come up entirely whole as they did then Zhongli may not have noticed it.

It didn’t seem to be poison either but more so a drug of sorts. If Zhongli had to guess one developed by the Fatui.

Childe gives a slurred groan as he shifts slightly, everything is hot far, far too hot leaving him as though he’s melting. The world coming to him in a smear of hazy colors, sounds, and sensations that seem to slip between his fingers before they could stabilize into something tangible.

He’s tired as well as if any and all his strength has been drained from his body leaving him wanting nothing more than to stay where he was and drift off to sleep.

However, he is able to register three things despite his thoughts and senses being one large jumbled mess at the moment. One Zhongli is with him, although Childe does not know why just yet, he’s able to recognize that familiar presence anywhere, that familiar firm yet soothing touch on his skin.

Although he’s not quite sure why he can hear panic and fear corrupting that rich silky tone he loves so much, as Zhongli spoke to him.

Was something wrong?

The second thing Childe is able to register is that his chest feels weirdly tight, an uncomfortable pressure squeezing it to the point where it feels as though he’s breathing through a straw, each breath he draws in stinging his lungs ever so slightly.

The third thing Childe is able to register is the pure, cold nausea whirling sickeningly in the pit of his stomach. And while Childe can’t exactly remember eating too much when Zhongli begins shaking him in an effort to keep him awake, Childe can feel the contents of his stomach slosh sickeningly.

Feeling all too much like a water balloon being rolled down a hill, the contents of his stomach practically brushing against its walls.

He does try to speak. “Stop. You’re…making….me…feel…sick,” he said softly, a slight scowl tugging at his face, but the words become a jumbled, slurred mess, as if Childe were speaking with his mouth full. Completely indecipherable.

For a moment things seem relatively calm, any of the noises, sights, and sounds that had been floating around in jumbled fragments before Childe’s eyes seem to be gradually fading away into nothing. He’s so tired, it seems as if it’s seeped down into his very bones weighing down his body like a rock beneath the ocean waves.

How had he ended up like this again? It takes Childe a moment to wrack his brain, especially when each thought seems to slip through his fingers like sand before they could form.

Ah…right…he’d been training in his Foul legacy transformation…then something had happened…and…

Childe is shaken awake by Zhongli once more, not even able to recall when he’d closed his eyes, but either way, the motion sends his stomach roiling and shifting inside of him.

A weak groan full of misery and slurred with nausea leaves his mouth as he tastes bile burning at the back of his throat, disgustingly bitter, poisonous almost, and rancidly sour like rotten meat left in the sun for days. It’s searingly hot, feeling as if it singes the back of his throat as he swallows thickly.

He tries to speak again, to get Zhongli to stop shaking him. “St-stop it. Y-you’re…going…to make me…puke,” he managed to choke out, but much like his last attempt at speaking it comes out slurred and jumbled.

As a wave of nausea washes over him, making heat prickle at his skin he feels air bubbling at the back of his throat, unable to stop the series of hiccups that just seems to drive his stomach contents further and further up his throat.

One of the more particularly harsh hiccups brings a lot more than air, the sound becoming garbled at the tail end as he retches.

A surge of watery vomit leaves his mouth as it gurgles up his throat, coating his mouth in an absolutely horrific nearly poisonous taste of bile.

As he coughs and splutters trying to draw in air in between waves he feels Zhongli’s hands on his face, gently stroking his hair back and cupping his cheek. It's strangely soothing and Childe finds himself trying to lean into Zhongli’s touch, chasing that relief from the fever that seemed to be burning him from the inside out.

Childe retches one final time, a harsh, violent wet noise the vomit gurgling in his throat making him sound as if he were drowning. The vomit is thicker this time, and a darker tannish color with a consistency similar to oil paint as it drips almost lazily from his open mouth, practically condensing into a slurry as adds to the mess on the ground.

Childe coughs and gasps for air threads of drool and bile slowly dripping from his lips, each cough, each breath feels as if it's raking across his lungs, crackling in his chest. But no matter what Childe does it feels as if he can’t drag enough air into his lungs, as if the moment he tries to draw it in it evaporates.

Childe feels dizzy, and a faint humming noise fills his ears growing stronger and stronger slowly blocking out every other noise. As darkness slowly begins to creep into his already blurry vision Childe is able to make out Zhongli’s familiar hands on his body, lifting him up and cradling him in his arms allowing Childe’s head to rest on his chest.

He can hear Zhongli’s heartbeat thumping softly, although it seems a bit faster than usual it's soothing nonetheless and that combined with the panic he’d heard in Zhongli’s voice has him giving a weak, airy yet raspy chuckle.

“You…were…worried about me…huh,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. In fact, if Zhongli wasn’t as close he may not have heard him.

“Now is not the time for jokes Childe,” Zhongli murmured with a scowl as he stood up, now holding Childe in his arms. He needs to get answers from Childe concerning how he got into this state, especially considering the pills he saw him throw up but that could wait until later.

First, he needed to get Childe inside and tended to.

~~~

A frown is on Zhongli’s face as he works meticulously. After bringing Childe inside and laying him down in bed, he’d set about removing most of his clothes to examine him properly.

Thankfully his initial guess was correct, the blood wasn’t Childe’s and he didn’t see any injuries beyond a few minor bruises, mostly on Childe’s arms, interestingly enough. However what is worrying is that the scent of the abyss clings to Childe, as if some poisonous miasma were imprinted on his skin.

Zhongli had noticed it faintly when picking him up but now that they’re inside and away from the elements, it’s impossible to not notice. It was as if Childe had been wandering the abyss for months or years even.

The last time Zhongli had seen Childe was before the new week started truthfully, afterwards it was as if the man had simply vanished from Liyue Harbor altogether. While he doesn’t think that Childe has been to the abyss recently something else does come to mind.

Childe’s Foul Legacy transformation. A strange monstrous form that from what the Traveler had described did not look like something that was from Teyvat. Zhongli had yet to see this form for himself but what the Traveler had described did remind him of a few other foes that he faced years ago.

Abyss Heralds to be specific and once he’d realized that many, many things quickly fell into place. A lot of the way Childe fought in battle, the way he moved seemed as if he’d learned it from those creatures somehow.

Abyssal magic was absolutely nothing to be trifled with even for gods, for humans perhaps even more so. If it didn’t further shorten a human’s already short lifespan, then it would change them, corrupting their form and mind into something horrific.

Zhongli sighed as he looked at Childe with narrow eyes for a moment. “You fool.”

Zhongli knows that there’s no way he would be able to get Childe to cease using that power, so he doesn’t even plan to try considering it would simply become a form of unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

What he could do however is try to make sure something like this didn’t happen again.

Once Zhongli had finished cleaning the blood off of Childe, he placed a cold washcloth on Childe’s forehead and placed a glass of ice water on the nightstand. He makes sure to place a small trash can by the bedside as well, hopefully, though Childe wouldn’t need to use it in his brief absence while he went to the pharmacy but it was better safe than sorry.

~~~

It’s hot, to Childe, the kind of heat that drained your energy and made you feel as though you were melting just by being in it.

Groaning softly, Childe shifts weakly. There’s something covering him, it’s soft yes but is only exacerbating the heat that seems intent on burning him to ash from the inside out.

It feels as if something is sitting on his chest, creating a harsh aching pressure which makes it feel as if his lungs are having trouble trying to expand and each breath he does manage to take seems as if it’s raking over his lungs.

The pain in his chest and the unbearable heat are not the only issues as well. Childe feels horrifically nauseous, the sensation is slimy and cold curls in the pit of his stomach.

His stomach feels as if the heat from his fever is making its contents boil, practically brushing against the walls of his stomach as they curdle inside of him.

Whimpering softly, Childe shifts without opening his eyes. He swallows thickly, placing a hand gently on his stomach as he makes some attempt to get it to settle down slightly.

A weak groan leaves his mouth when his stomach gurgles beneath his hand, and the waves of nausea washing over him seem to sharply increase. Taking a shuddering, shaky breath in Childe swallowed thickly when the saliva that is currently filling his mouth feels far too heavy and warm on his tongue.

But even that seems to make his situation worse, the back of his throat spasming ever so slightly while the action of swallowing the saliva feels almost as if he’s swallowing liquid glue. His throat almost clinging together slightly.

Opening his eyes a bit Childe shifts, making some attempt to try and prop himself up even a little since he knows that, with how he feels his stomach’s contents more than likely won’t stay down long.

However, he finds that he’s too weak to even sit up at the moment.

Honestly, he doesn’t know if it’s the drugs he’d taken to help dull the effects he usually got with the Foul Legacy Transformation that were causing him to feel like this or if it was just how the transformation made him feel.

The drugs were made by Dottore and a new formula apparently, and considering how Dottore could be Childe wouldn’t put it past him.

“Childe?”

Turning his head a bit to his right, Childe sees Zhongli sitting in a chair at his bedside, his usual long coat discarded and folded over the back of the chair. His gloves were also removed and his sleeves rolled up part way exposing his arms.

Smooth, snake-like brown scales the color of fresh earth lined his skin stopping at his wrist while the scales that covered his hand were orangish the color of cor lapis. It was a sight that Childe had seen many times in private but it never failed to leave him in awe.

Childe grimaced, swallowing thickly when his stomach lurched slightly beneath his hand, his nausea swirling almost violently in his gut.

Zhongli scowled a sense of unease settling over him when Childe grimaced. He sits up setting the book he’d been reading aside on the nightstand. “Are you in pain?”

Zhongli’s assumption about the medication being a Fatui drug was correct from what Baizhu had informed him. A form of experimental elemental energy suppressants, more than likely a way for Fatui soldiers to control their delusions if they were to run rampant if Zhongli had to guess.

The side effects were mostly unknown and based on sketchy reports at best which made things even more difficult.

While Childe had clearly thrown up some of the medicine earlier, those were obviously the most recent dosage he’d taken meaning that he could’ve possibly taken more beforehand.

“N-no…well yeah but…” Childe stops speaking for a moment, a hand shakily coming up to cover his mouth as he weakly gagged into it. Childe takes a shuddering breath in, his breathing harsh as he gives an audible swallow. “I…I’m going to throw up,” he manages to force out his voice, wavering yet heavy with nausea.

Childe closed his eyes, nearly squeezing them shut as he focused on trying to swallow back the near river of saliva overflowing his mouth.

He can feel the back of his throat spasming, threatening to make him gag as his stomach lurches and gurgles beneath his hand.

He hears Zhongli moving around for a moment then feels his familiar hands on him.

“Here you are,” Zhongli murmured as he helped Childe sit up. Placing a hand on his back to support him.

The motion seems to only further upset Childe’s stomach as he begins gagging into the hand over his mouth. Zhongli quickly places the trash can that he’d set by the bed in Childe’s lap.

This is good because a second later Childe all but lurches forward,  his hand leaving his mouth as he clutches the trash can in a near-death grip.

His stomach lurches, nearly spasming as a harsh burp forces its way up his throat, gurgling inside of it as a surge of murky, watery vomit sprays past his lips, splashing heavily into the bag lining the trash can.

He can feel Zhongli’s hand moving along his back slowly rubbing soothing circles on it, and it helps a tiny bit.

Zhongli scowls as Childe lurches forward again, coughing and spluttering for a  moment before a harsh, strangled retch tears from his lips bring a fairly decent surge of murky watery vomit spraying from his lips. The soup-like slurry splashing heavily into the trash can. The retching is so violent it even brings tears to Childe’s eyes.

As the stream of vomit slowly tapers off Childe is left panting and feeling drained, his stomach muscles aching and his throat feeling as if he’s rubbed it raw with sandpaper. He swallows, the back of his throat still spasming slightly as threads of bile and drool drip lazily for his lips.

Sniffling, Childe takes the tissues that Zhongli offers him. “Fuck…” he whispered his voice raspy, he slumps forward slightly over the trash can panting softly.

He feels drained, nausea still swirling in the pit of his stomach although he doesn’t feel as if he’s going to throw up right this moment. A horrible taste chalky bitter taste coats the inside of his mouth like poison and no matter how much he swallowed it wouldn’t disappear.

Eventually, though he looks up and over at Zhongli, a slight frown on his face. He had a faint memory of it raining and Zhongli being there, shaking him awake and seemingly angry with him. No, no angry, worried.

“How much do you remember,” Zhongli asked as he took the trash can from Childe and helped him lay back down.

Childe’s frown deepens a bit and after a moment or two, he speaks. “We were outside in the rain, you kept shaking me when I tried to sleep, and…you were worried,” Childe said as he shifted under the blankets a bit, it's far, far too hot.

At his words, Zhongli nodded he takes a deep breath and sighed feeling as if a weight has been slightly lifted off of his shoulders. Childe was sick but he was awake and alive. “I have not seen you all week, however when I returned home from the funeral parlor I found you on the doorstep, covered from head to toe in blood and unconscious.”

“Oh…” Childe whispered, his eyes slightly wide. Now Childe at least knew why Zhongli’s voice had sounded so distraught at the time. While it wasn’t rare for Childe to show up at Zhongli’s apartment occasionally covered in blood, this was the first time he’d done so while unconscious.

“Do you remember how you wound up in that state,” Zhongli asked crossing his arms, and Childe finds his eyes drawn to the scales when they shimmer slightly under the soft warm lights in the room.

Childe is quiet for a moment, he knows that Zhongli isn’t going to be happy about it but also knows its best to rip the bandaid off quickly. “I…went outside Liyue Harbor to train using my transformation, I planned on coming back to the harbor afterwards. I remember…dispersing the transformation but something went wrong.”

Zhongli’s eyes narrowed slightly at Childe’s words. “Did it have anything to do with the medicine you’d taken?”

Childe freezes for a moment but eventually nodded slowly as the memory came back to him. “It’s a new thing…it’s made to help with delusion usage. It helped a bit with the effects of the transformation too,” he admitted softly. He’s not surprised that Zhongli knows about the drug or at least some version of it.

Childe pauses and closes his eyes for a moment as he attempts to wrack his brain, all he finds however are hazy fragments that fail to form a full picture. “I don’t remember much afterwards, just that it was cold and felt like I was sleepwalking I guess,” he murmured.

Zhongli gives a soft hum. “If I were to guess, it seems like you were stuck in that transformation the entire time you were missing. It is only by a miracle that you simply wound up sick.”

Zhongli’s eyes meet Childe’s and Childe can’t help but feel as if Zhongli’s eyes are piercing right through him. “Quite the foolish man aren’t you.”

Childe finds himself glancing away when he hears Zhongli’s tone, it's incredibly firm, almost abrasive, rough even. Its a tone he’s heard before the few times he’d been reckless and wandered into Zhongli’s apartment to be bandaged up after being wounded pretty badly. He also knows there’s nothing he can say to remedy the situation at the moment.

Not using the Foul legacy transformation at all is not even an option for him, therefore it doesn’t even cross his mind. He knows the consequences it would bring and had accepted them long ago.

Sighing softly Childe looks up at the ceiling, it's too hot right now the fever leaving him feeling as if he’s burning from the inside out and melting into a puddle. His thoughts are beginning to get hazy as well, gradually becoming harder and harder to grasp.

He finds himself closing his eyes for a moment but opens them when he feels Zhongli pressing what feels like a wet washcloth to his face, below his nose and he can’t help but notice the concern clear as day on his face. It takes him a moment to realize his nose had been bleeding.

A soft sigh escapes Zhongli’s mouth as he quickly cleans the blood from the washcloth using the bowl of water on the night before bringing it back to Childe’s face once more. “Try to rest, for now, we will talk more on this matter later,” Zhongli told him softly.

“I…didn’t mean to stay in the transformation that long,” Childe murmured his voice still raspy.

Zhongli nodded at his words. “I am aware.”

It is only when Childe drifts off to sleep that Zhongli speaks once more. “I suppose both of us can be rather foolish.”

#My writing #zhongli x childe #zhongli genshin impact #childe genshin impact #male whump #anime whump #genshin sickfic #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto fic #hurt/comfort #genshin impact #genshin fanfic

[tinkertayler]

Not to be hyperbolic, but I think the moment in Heartstopper episode three "Kiss" where Nick sees Tara and Darcy dancing and kissing at Harry's party is genuinely one of my favorite moments ever put to film. I am always a sucker for loud, bright, colorful party scenes in teen shows; I live for the aesthetic and sonic pleasures of flashing multi-colored lights and thumping EDM bass. But THIS scene... It hits different.

Is it a little corny? Oh, yes. But the whole show is a little corny, so it fits. And it works for the same reason the rest of the show does: while its sentimental sweetness is enough to cause cavities, it is so earnest and pure of heart that you just can't help but love it.

Three things I adore:

1) The lighting. The colorful strobe lights are aesthetically pleasing, but they aren't solely an aesthetic choice - they also serve an important narrative and emotional purpose. Rainbow lights - emphasis on the bisexual pinks and blues - shine on Nick as he watches Tara and Darcy dance, sees the joy that being together makes them feel, and realizes how much he wants to be with Charlie. Everything that felt confusing and overwhelming and impossible suddenly feels attainable and easy and right. His hesitance and apprehension momentarily gives way to confidence and resolve. All the fear and uncertainty surrounding sexuality dissolves into a sea of joy and love.

2) The song selection. CHVRCHES' "Clearest Blue". God. Heartstopper is backed by a consistently great soundtrack - I was officially won over by the show when Wolf Alice's anthemic "Don't Delete the Kisses" played at the end of episode 1 - but the music is especially crucial in this scene. This moment is a narrative linchpin - a turning point for Nick as a character as well as in Nick and Charlie's relationship - and it needs to be striking, evocative, and effective. "Clearest Blue" is perfect. It helps create a moment that radiates euphoric, infectious, transcendent joy.

3) The gaze. Two girls dance and kiss while their male classmate watches them from a distance. Gloriously, it's the purest, most wholesome moment in the history of the world; there is not a hint of voyeuristic energy. None from Nick, none from the camera. Tara and Darcy kiss with joyful abandon, Nick watches with joyful wonder. It's a revelation. A teenage boy - who does like girls, mind - reacts to the sight of two girls dancing, kissing, and being happy together not by objectifying, fetishizing, or sexualizing them, but instead by feeling happy, awestruck, and newly empowered. He feels inspired to go after the boy he likes, because he really, really wants to kiss and be happy with him, too.

This moment hits like a tidal wave and makes your heart swell. It's loud and vibrant. It's electrifying and emotional. It's uplifting and heartwarming. It's sentimental and romantic. It's full of joy and innocence. It could have come across as cloying, but it doesn't. It's one of the loveliest moments I've ever seen in a queer romance - or any romance, for that matter.

It's kind of perfect, and I kind of love it.

#anyway i'm FINE #clearly #!!!! #this moment has been living in my head rent free for nearly a week #heartstopper

[blooberrries]

『midnight, midsummer』 — one

— pairing: shoto x reader — tags: university au, urban fantasy au, selkie shoto, accidental marriage (lmfao), faerie antics, 18+ — wc: 3.3k — notes: this idea has been living rent free in my brain for at least a week. there will be around six parts, it's mostly planned out so far. all depicted characters are adults unless otherwise explicitly stated.

“I have no intention of forcing you into anything,” Shoto says evenly, expression neutral despite the roiling depths of his mismatched eyes. He seems to hesitate slightly before he continues. “Let me propose something, then. A bargain.” Your eyebrows shoot up before you’re able to stop them. Shoto is offering to enter a faerie bargain with you? As though he can see the cogs turning in your head, the corner of his lips lifts in a half smile. He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes a moment before he lets the air go and meets your gaze once more. “If you find that you do not have any feelings for me at all, come Midsummer’s Eve, then I will dissolve this marriage and leave you be.” ----You get a little more than you bargained for when you knock some poor guys coat off his chair in the library. You pick it up and give it back to him, of course, because that's what anyone would do, right? Well, apparently not when it comes to selkies.

masterlist || next

You’ve been in Moonhollow for a month now, and this is the first time you’ve actually made somewhat of a fool of yourself.

“Oops shit sorry! Dropped your coat!” You bend and scoop said item from the floor before the words even finish leaving your mouth, enjoying the soft texture of the material for the mere second it resides in your hold. Carefully, already feeling bad you’d bumped it off with your hasty stumbling in the first place, you drape the coat back over the chair from whence it had tumbled, hand hovering for a moment to make sure it is secure. Inadvertently, you end up brushing against a reaching hand as you draw yours away. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going…”

Briefly, your eyes flit to the owner of the coat and you feel your heart jump into your throat at the remarkably attractive face that greets them. Striking mismatched eyes of deep, doe grey and clear turquoise are blown wide as they gaze up at you, a stunned expression playing across handsome features. You were already embarrassed, but now you feel heat surging across your face and ears in earnest. Unsure where to go from here, but painfully aware of how late you are to the group project meeting that has already started without you, you offer the man an awkward, if apologetic, wave.

Then, you promptly turn and dart in the direction you were originally going. You can hear the other people around the table he was sitting at burst into hushed, hurried conversation upon your departure, and you wish you could shrink to the size of a mouse and flee the scene a little more seamlessly. You managed to go a whole month without embarrassing yourself in a place as unfamiliar and foreign as this, though, so you suppose your track record isn’t too bad.

The meeting room is in sight, and with slight horror you realise it is also closed off via a glass wall and is in the direct line of sight of the table you just embarrassed yourself at.

You just can’t catch a break today.

You burst into the study room your group booked, pretending you aren’t out of breath and didn’t leave your home just barely ten minutes ago to make your way here like a bat out of hell. A few of them smile at you, one in particular gesturing to an empty seat by their side. Gratitude floods your system and you beam at them, making your way over.

An intrusive thought spared for the unique colour of that coat-guy’s hair (white and scarlet, a bold combination that seemed to work for him anyway) has you distracted and nearly eating shit as your ass slips slightly from the edge of the plastic chair. Humiliation burns hotly across your shoulders but you square them anyway, keeping your posture proud and smile bright. You also scooch your behind as far back into the seat as the moulded plastic will allow— you don’t want a repeat of that near-miss.

“Sorry I’m late! I don’t have an excuse, but it won’t happen again!”

They don’t need to know that you’d slept through five different alarms and fell right back to sleep mere minutes after the sixth did what the others couldn’t. You’re beginning to think your body’s affinity for sleep is bordering on a disorder.

Truthfully, your group members don’t seem all that bothered by your tardiness – only one, who you knew was going to be miffed, fixes you with a stern stare.

“That’s alright, so long as you are on time for our future meetings.” Tenya’s voice leaves no room for nonsense, but a kind smile follows his words. “I trust you brought the materials needed for your part…?”

“Of course,” you beam, patting your bag with full confidence. Realistically, you’re about 96% sure you remembered to get them all in there, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

With a nod in your direction, Tenya moves on, following up with the other group members and their progress with the parts they were allocated.

“Your face is red.” A whisper drifts over from your side. You glance over just in time to see a tongue peek out and run over a plump pair of lips. “Did you know I missed breakfast this morning?”

Himiko, one of your classmates with a pretty face and dry sense of humour, is the culprit. The tips of her retracted fangs peek out when she catches your look and smiles at your attention, irises tinged with the slightest blush of carmine. It makes her eyes look like windows to a stunning sunset. You’re actually kind of jealous.

“I think eating your project buddy is bad for group morale,” you whisper back. You receive a soft snort in response, the sound just shy of trailing into a giggle.

Terrifying creature of the night she might be, but Himiko is actually harmless. This is a realisation it took you a while to reach, because objectively, outwardly, she’s quite an intimidating character. She might joke about draining you dry every so often, and probably wouldn’t pass up the chance to have a sneaky sip of your blood if it was presented to her, but you know she wouldn’t actually kill you.

She likes you too much to go through with it. At least, you think that’s why. You try not to put too much thought into it.

“Probably,” she murmurs, leaning closer and bracing a hand on the back of your seat. “I think Tenya might actually kill me if I attempted to eat you before you completed your part of the project.”

You stifle a laugh, because it’s probably true. Even though you didn’t make a sound, the vibe in your corner of the room must be enough to alert the man in question to your mischief, because he pauses in his conversation and turns accusing eyes your way. They fall on Himiko and he sighs, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Toga, what have I told you about looking at your classmates like food and expressing desires to consume them?”

She beams at him, fangs popping out with a soft shick as she reclines slightly, arms over the back of her seat. “To save it for outside of work hours.”

“Exactly,” Tenya says, hand raising to gesture emphatically. “So, since we’re inside work hours right now, lets see what you’ve prepared so far for your part of the project.”

Himiko lets out an exaggerated groan, but reaches for her bag nonetheless. With the attention now completely off you, you focus on retrieving your own materials. The coarse fabric of your bag is enough to ground you again in the moment.

As you let out a deep breath, you can feel some of the earlier embarrassment and tension leaving your shoulders. Right, it’s better to let it go. It already happened! Nothing you can do to change it now. You grasp your laptop and open the lid, flicking to the relevant page of the notebook beside it, and get to work.

You do your best to ignore the foreign sensation of eyes burning into you from beyond the glass wall.

You’re just paranoid and embarrassed, is all.

//

This place isn’t your normal, everyday coastal town.

The population of Moonhollow, to be blunt, is to blame for that. This city is the makeshift capital of a region tucked away from the eyes of the world, protected from mortal powers that be and those that wish its citizens ill will. Beyond the Violet Peaks, the mountain range that cuts this mystical expanse off from the rest of the world, are a people that exist as… well, anything but human.

Put simply, in a region wrought with the mythical and supernatural, Moonhollow is a city built by monsters, for monsters.

And you’re one of the only two humans currently living in it.

“I’m home!” You call upon crossing the threshold of your current living space, eyes sweeping the room for a familiar face and coming up empty.

“About time! Come help me, I’m stuck in the wall again.”

Your uncle is the other one.

You’re unsure how he was one of the masterminds behind the creation of this city way back in the day, when all you’ve seen of him is how dumb he is. Seriously, this is the third time this week you’ve had to go save him from the wall, and it’s only Tuesday. You’ve only been here a month, and already you’re wondering how on Earth he managed to survive before you.

Beyond the kitchen, around the corner, down the stairs, and you’ve entered your uncles ‘lair’, as he likes to call it. What it really is, is the warlock equivalent of a man-cave. All walls lined with a bunch of shelves home to a bunch of weird shit, and a bunch of odd bundles hanging from the ceiling. The only barren wall in the room is the one your uncle manages to get himself stuck in.

You sigh upon seeing him, ass firmly stuck in the plaster with the rest of his body sticking out like a folded lawn chair. His bespectacled face lights up when he catches you standing in the doorway. You grimace.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Not sure what you mean, dear niece,” he responds gleefully, taking your offered hands and letting you yank him out. You half hope he will stumble, but he is as annoyingly graceful as ever upon exiting the wall. He dusts himself off, flicking a crumb of plaster from his broad shoulder and stretching long limbs immediately afterwards.

“What were you trying to make this time?” you ask, wandering over to the hilariously stereotypical cauldron a few metres from his entry point to the wall.

Your uncle hums, waving his hand casually at the wall. You watch as the plaster knits itself back together, hole disappearing and dent smoothing out before your very eyes.

“I was trying to make something for your sleep problems.” He sniffs, “It backfired, though. Need to fix the dosage of some of the ingredients.”

You peer into the cauldron, before immediately recoiling in disgust at the sight of the booger-green goop lining its insides. It has a rancid smell you’re not sure you’re able to describe with words. “You were gonna feed me that?!”

“It’s a work in progress,” your uncle says, defensively. “Like I said, dosage.”

You make a face, wanting to believe him but unable to make yourself do so. He catches the look you’re giving him and rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up like a diva.

“Ungrateful!” he exclaims, turning on his heel and marching towards the stairs. “I spend all day pouring my blood, sweat and tears into a potion made from the heart for my dear niece, and this is the thanks I get?”

“I could have left you in the wall,” you say, following him up the stairs.

Your uncle sputters, dramatic as ever, like he can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Oh, to receive the mercy of this cold-hearted woman! Thank you, oh neice of mine, how may I ever repay you!”

You can’t help it, you finally let a laugh escape. He turns to glance at you over his shoulder, the corner of his lips tugging up before he turns away again with a ‘hmph!’.

For someone who refuses to reveal his real age to you, but looks and acts like your age or younger, you wonder if perhaps over the years your uncle has lost a few brain cells. Sometimes he does things that make you think the old synapses aren’t firing like they used to.

He exists as a walking contradiction – the most intelligent person you’ve ever known, and yet somehow simultaneously the dumbest. It’s like living with a child genius.

The whole reason you’re even here, pursuing your studies in this city at this university, is because the goofy bastard made a bet with you that you somehow lost. It was something stupid that you didn’t think you actually had any chance at losing, and so hadn’t minded the stakes.

Yet, here you are. Complain as you might, you’ll die before admitting to him that you probably would have ended up coming here, anyway. He doesn’t need the ego boost, he already has enough of one from being the only family you really have.

Upon reaching the kitchen, he immediately hits the switch on the electric jug in the corner and then leans against the counter, yawning. A long, thin-fingered hand reaches up to rustle through the silvery platinum strands atop his head — the colour is a result of prolonged magic use, he once told you. You still don’t know if he’s bullshitting or not.

“So, pebble, what did you get up to today?” He huffs a laugh, a mischievous gleam entering his eye. “Presuming you did get up, after the feature-length album of alarms that went off this morning.”

You feel heat burn across the tips of your ears as you recall your chaotic start to the day. You resist the urge to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face.

“Schoolwork,” you answer simply, before deciding to elaborate a bit so he doesn’t press much. “Knocked some poor guy’s coat onto the ground in the library when I was on my way to a group meeting – that’s probably the most eventful thing that happened.”

You uncle hums, blinking at you a moment before reaching into the cupboard and returning with two mugs. “How boring.”

“You want me to have an eventful day?!” you ask, hands flying to your hips. “In a town like this, for someone like me, I would have thought a boring day was ideal.”

“Nah, boring is overrated,” your uncle says, spooning generous amounts of instant coffee into the mugs as does so. “You’re young, plenty of traumatising memories to be made. I mean, you’re not really a successful adult without them. Just look at me, for example! I have more repressed memories than I do hairs on my head, and I turned out fine. Great, even!”

“I feel like you’re not as good of an example as you think you are, old man.”

He whips the spoon in your direction, eyes wide. “Take that back.”

“Shan’t,” you say simply, and after a month of dealing with you he seems to know better than to persist before he has his cup of coffee. “I just call it as I see it.”

“Now that can’t be true,” he says, shooting you a beaming smile. “I’m the very picture of youth and vitality.”

“I’ll believe you when you get rid of those bags that have been camping under your eyes the past thirty years,” you say, leaning against the bench and letting a smile slip so he knows you’re still playing. He rolls his eyes and goes back to making coffee.

“Ungrateful child,” he mutters to himself. “If only your grandmother was still alive. She’d teach you to be appreciative. I was her favourite, you know”

“You’ve always struck me as a mumma’s boy, now that you mention it.”

Your uncle raises the teaspoon, threatening to throw it your way, and you lurch away from the counter with a peal of laughter. Try as he might to keep a straight, somewhat-threatening face, he is unsuccessful and has to turn away before you see the fond smile stretching his lips.

“Here’s your coffee, you brat. Go do your uni work and get out of my sight, or whatever.”

He ruffles your hair on the way past, and you can’t help but smile to yourself, chest filled with warmth.

You’re glad you came here.

//

You didn’t have to go onto campus for class for a day or so, but when you finally do… something isn’t right.

You woke up with an odd feeling, before any of your alarms went off – which is, just for the record, the most peculiar thing to happen so far during your time here. It’s an interesting sensation nestled in the pit of your abdomen, a curious middleground between anticipation and dread. You’re not sure what is to blame, and can’t think of anything happening in the near future or recent past that might have triggered it.

Despite the feeling, you actually make it through all of your classes without anything eventful occurring. Same old teachers, same old content. Boring is good, you think to yourself, amused. In this instance, that is definitely the case.

You should have known better than to relax before you’d even left campus.

About halfway towards the gates, you make the split-second decision to check whether the campus bakery has anything priced to go. You tried one of their lemon tarts the other day and haven’t been able to get it off your mind since, and so you are captured by the impulse when it flits into your mind.

Before you even make it off of the path that cuts between two large buildings and connects one food court to another, a hurried call reaches your ears. You slow to a halt, turning in the direction it came from just in time to see a tall figure scrambling from their seat at a table beneath a tree to your left.

To your complete and utter surprise, you recognise them as they approach, straightening and fixing windswept, two-toned hair. It’s the cute coat guy, who you had completely embarrassed yourself in front of just the other day. You try not to let it show that you are still, in fact, embarrassed.

You’re not great at letting things go, despite however you may coach yourself.

“Oh, uh, hi,” you greet, resisting the urge to smack yourself for how awkward that sounded. “Sorry again, about the other day… I was having a rough morning.”

The man, who now stands before you at an almost intimidatingly attractive height, tilts his head in question.

“Right,” he says, and the unexpectedly low timbre of his voice sends an inexplicable cacophony of butterflies through your stomach. You can feel heat fight to rise in your cheeks. “About that…”

He has the coat in question thrown over his arm now, you realise, as he shifts it to the other arm and reaches into his back pocket. Confusion filters through you; did you drop something when you knocked his stuff over? How humiliating.

Your attention drifts distractedly to the handsome planes of his face. He really has no business walking around, looking that attractive. You wonder if it is a byproduct of his species, and then wonder what exactly he might be. Incubus? You wouldn’t be surprised, but he lacks the telltale aroma of honeysuckle and smoke that usually accompany them.

The flourish of his hand as he retrieves what he was reaching for is the only thing to bring you back to the moment, small box in the middle of his palm catching your eye. That obscure feeling in your abdomen grows a little stronger, mixing in with the butterflies and sending them into a flurry.

“You returned my coat to me, after it fell into your possession,” the man begins, long lashes fluttering as he gazes through them to meet your eyes. His wording strikes you as odd, but you don’t have time to question it. “I knew this day might come, but I never would have expected it would be a human… so, well…”

“What…?” Your heart appears to skip a beat, voice coming out light and breathy. He clears his throat.

He opens the box, revealing a ring with glimmering, clear jewels woven around a natural lavender pearl. Your mouth drops open at the sight, heart tipping into a stunned gallop. He appears somewhat bashful, pink tinging the honey-hued skin of his cheeks.

“I thought we should get married by human standards, as well. It’s nice to properly meet you, wife.”

masterlist | next

#shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #selkie au #faerie au #urban fantasy #adult characters #!!! #mha series #mha fanfic #bnha series #mha reader insert #reader insert #do love me some monsters

[fficway]

I had to put this somewhere as this has been living rent free in my head for the past week, so here it is:

Obey Me Brothers, and Their Preferred Sexual Positions/Kinks!

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

This is written as headcannons and MC is Gender Neutral!

Lucifer:

Firstly, Lucifer is definitely a switch.

He's a dominant person normally, but during Guest Appearances he enjoys when MC whips him, AND he's always willing to call MC "Master" when it comes up

Next, when everyone was sucked into Levi's game, Lucifer skipped classes because Diavolo wasn't in that world and he enjoyed the freedom

SO!! This makes me think he has fantasies of slacking off from his work as he pleasures you 👀

Specifically: it gives him a rush knowing that he's purposely not working just to fuck you, with the possibility of getting caught any time!

If you fuck in his office, he's the dom, no question!

He is still a work driven demon, so it would take some time pushing his buttons to get him to that point of abandoning his responsibilities

You do so by teasing him or by playing the sexy aloof card to get him almost drooling

If you fail, the worst that would happen is he would dismiss you from his office and punish you later in the bedroom when he's finished.

But if you succeed...

Your prize (punishment) will be Lucifer's favorite position:

You splayed across his desk, papers scattered everywhere as he rails you!

He'll first lock the door to give you a "proper lecture," and the look in his eye would make your lovely areas heat with excitement

He'll have you bent over his desk, pounding into you while lecturing you

Throwing in some degradation and spanking as he pleases (and it pleases you)

He loves to hear you get loud with his name on your tongue. He wants everyone in the House of Lamentation to KNOW your his, and being fucked good in his office.

Its also a dare for anyone to try to interrupt the two of you and reap the consequences

I repeat: Purposely slacking off from his work to rail you is such a rush for him

Of course, he also enjoys being pleasured from you under his desk as he works too ;)

For the Bedroom: I think Lucifer would def have a bondage kink (you or him wearing it, it doesn't matter to him!)

He is responsible with the after care as well!

Mammon:

It's literally a character trait of his that he's greedy. I mean, he IS the Avatar of Greed!

He's also a Tsundere who gets flustered easily!

So, Mammon always wants more of everything! You give him a kiss on the cheek, he'll want one on the mouth.

"How do you expect that to be enough to satisfy the great Mammon! That isn't nearly enough" (of course he says this with a blush as his Tsundere self can't just ASK for another kiss!)

So you give him a kiss on the lips.

"More"

Then another.

"More"

Then some tongue action.

"More"

Then his kisses will wander to your neck.

"More. I want all of you MC. Every inch. I want you to be mine"

HOWEVER! He would never push you to do anything you don't want to do or aren't ready for!!

Now going onto his favorite position 😏

Its canon that he likes to have things easily without having to work, so he'd love it if you ride him from on top!

He loves where he can see as much of you as possible! He wants to take all of you in!

Mammon is very vocal about what he wants from you during your sexy time!

As for his bedroom talk, his tsundere self would normally beat around the bush when he's trying to be honest, but once he's in an intimate position with you, he'd be showering you with all of the secret thoughts and feelings he has of you that he'd normally hide!

His hands would wander every inch as he'd praise your body

He would kiss you where he could and tell you about how much he adores you

When you talk to him, he'd definitely have a praise kink!

Being lectured by his brothers all the time just gets frustrating to him, and even if it were consensual, he wouldn't prefer being degraded sexually because this is the moment when he's the most honest and vulnerable with you

(Though I'm not saying he wouldn't like it every now and then 👀)

If you told him how great he is, and how amazing he makes you feel, he would be THRILLED

He wants you to feel as amazing as you are

He would be vocal through the entire thing, but as for volume, even though he normally has a loud mouth, he'd probably keep it down as he wouldn't want Lucifer interrupting you two 😂

Mammon on top would definitely bring out his true demon form, and he'd get more bossy with telling you what "more" he wants from you ;)

Of course he would push for aftercare in the most tsundere way

"You probably can't walk after I made you feel so good, so let me get what you need to clean up" (Face RED)

He loves cuddles and for you to fall asleep on his chest :3

(He also totally drools in his sleep!)

Leviathan:

This Otaku would totally be into role playing xD

Would have you dress as one of his favorite characters (if you're willing)

At first he'd be so out of it trying to comprehend if this blessing of you in front of him is real life or not before ending up too nervous to do much at first.

So, you end up with a foreplay reward system as he plays his video games to comfortably ease into it!

The more he wins, the more action he gets ;D

From kissing, to groping, to giving him a blow job as he plays his games until he can't take it

Which leads to his favorite:

Shower Sex!

As Leviathan, the aquatic demon, he'd feel most comfortable (and feel like you have more privacy)

To him it feels like he gets to be closer to you

He loves to be able to touch you all over as you fuck

This boy is LOUD!!

"UUUAAAAAUUUGGH!!"

(This is canon, we all know this xD)

As for vocal kinks, this Otaku would probably love it if you used allusions to his favorite games in some sexy way

"Like Ezio, I'm great from behind and above"

"I know my way around the cleft of dimension, want me to show you?"

"Are you up for a little tactical insertion?"

He'd also love skinny dipping and fucking you in pools and lakes too for sure! ;3

You can clean up easily in the shower afterwards!

Cuddles!!! (You replace his body pillow! What a privilege!)

Asmodeus:

It is no question this man has a LOT of experience

He loves it every which way and more!

He's all for the Vanilla but LIVES for the kinky stuff

Praise kink to the GODS!

As long as you're admiring him, he is happy!

He doesn't need a scene set to get to business, he's ready to go anytime!

Which is why its more than likely his favorite sex is Public Sex.

He loves to share with the world the art of sex and the beauty that is the two of you in intercourse!

This of course would depend on your comfort! If you wanted to keep your sexual encounters private, he would oblige!

He's a pleaser!!

He loves admiration, and he loves sex, so as long as you're happy with how he's fucking you, and you're vocal about it, he is pleased himself!

Position-wise, I think whatever is your favorite is what he'd be ready and willing to do!

Basically any and every kink he loves, and is more than willing to be the top or bottom!

He can go for MANY rounds!

((@mogmoe drew their headcanon for what the brothers' tongues would look like while in their full demon forms and gave Asmo tentacle tongue so do with that as you will ;3))

(Sorry this seems kinda vague but I mean anything you can think of he's probably already done it and more, and enjoys every bit of it!)

Satan:

With how this man wants to be seen as an individual and not just a prior part of Lucifer, he wants to be SEEN during sex!

He's a dom! He can blush and act shy and all normally, but in the bedroom he is totally dominant!

Would definitely have some hot angry sex with you given his temper!

Pushing you up against a wall and fucking you stupid

Splay you across his book clad floor or toss you on the bed to rail you

But you always have to be looking at him!

"Who's the one fucking you right now?"

Loves hearing you say his name!

He'll kiss you every time just to taste his name coming off of your tongue

He also reads a ton of books, so this man has read his fair share about how to pleasure his partner properly ;)

No matter if you're on the bed or against the wall, you have to stay wrapped around him!

He wants to know how much you want him!

He'll deny you your orgasm to make you beg him and say his name

He'll eventually let you have your relief and loves if you'll hold him close as you do

Sweet forehead kisses after you both finish as he praises you

Proper aftercare! Whatever you need, he's sweetly obliging

He'll love to fall asleep in your arms! :)

Beelzebub:

First of all, this man almost never stops eating

He'll give you plenty of affection, but he'll usually be stuffing his mouth or snacking as he does.

But he's not neglectful! It's just his nature as the Avatar of Gluttony that he's always hungry!

So you play into this so that he enjoys the process as you get him in the mood 👀

Using whatever treat you like to eat, you eat it in front of him, but only have the smallest portion possible (for example, maybe just two or three pieces of candy)

Of course he'll ask for a piece, so that's when you'll hit him with "Oh I'm sorry Beel, but that was the last one"

Before he has a chance to get sad about it (or you can wait until he pouts since he's adorable) you offer to share the last piece

Naturally he'll want to share it

But its already in your mouth ;)

He'll shyly kiss you to get a taste of the treat off your lips

"So soft"

He'll kiss you again, but this time with a flick of his tongue

He'll make another remark, but this time about the taste of the treat

"I want to taste more"

Cue the tongue action!

If the treat is still in your mouth, prepare to fight to keep it

If it isn't still in your mouth, he'll explore every inch to taste what's left of it

This man uses his mouth muscles to eat pounds of food every day, so he is a fantastic kisser!

He'll get so invested in the taste of you that he forgets about the treat altogether

This is where it gets steamy 😏

He wants his mouth everywhere

On your neck

Your chest

Your shoulders

Your stomach

There's not much sex talk from him because his mouth is always busy on you, but he makes plenty of comments to compliment you and your body!

Eventually, he'll want to taste the best parts of you 😏

His favorite: having his mouth on your nether regions ;)

He'll get so invested that he'll accidentally transform into his true demon form

((@mogmoe 's headcanon for Beel's tongue while in his true form was large like the size of a cow's tongue, so I'm playing off that!))

If you're a person with a vagina, his large tongue will be pumping in and out to taste every inch of your walls/If you're a person with a penis, he'll suck you like a popsicle to get your juices, and you know he can deep throat with no issue

If you like getting your ass eaten, he'll do that too

All the while you hold onto his horns like handle bars as he works his magic tongue and mouth

He doesn't have a preference for how you talk during sex, but if you praise him, it would definitely make him happy and encourage him to do more for you!

If you want to get him off too, he definitely loves 69ing!!

It feels to him as if you're both sharing a meal together, but in a more special and intimate way!

Afterwards, he would be super sleepy. He'd pull you close and be like a very large teddy bear cuddling up to you.

(Though he would wake up later for some midnight snacks!)

Belphegor:

I can already tell you now: Lazy Fucking!

This man loves to cuddle as much as possible!

He'll sleep with his head in your lap, he'll fall asleep on your shoulder, he'll spoon you (little or big, it doesn't matter to him!)

If he wants to get steamy after waking up with his head in your lap, he'll start to work with his mouth as his face is already down there

If he wakes up with his head on your shoulder, he'll start lazily kissing along your neck

During cuddling, his hands will mindlessly wander. He may reach back to get handsy if he's the little spoon. Or he might grind on you a little while kissing your neck from behind if he's the big spoon.

But his favorite: lazily fucking you from behind

Laying on top of you, his chest pressed to your back, his hand intertwined with yours, all as his dick slowly pumps in and out of you

He would whisper sweet praises to you, maybe tell you about what he dreamed while he was asleep!

His other hand would help to assist with your pleasure.

He probably would be too tired for aftercare, but for you he's always willing to do it!

Of course more cuddling will follow!

-

I dont know if it's obvious but I'm still kinda new to Obey Me! I'm in chapter/lesson 13, so if some of these seem OOC, please let me know! This is my first time publishing headcanons, or rather any of my writing in general, so let me know what you think!

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me luci x reader #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi smut #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo x mc #obey me asmo smut #obey me satan #obey me satan smut #obey me satan x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me beel smut #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me belphie x reader #obey me belphie smut #headcanon #obey me headcanons

[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

#bangtanarmynet #armiesnet #btsbookclub #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #high school!au #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts suga #bangtan #bts fanfic #FUCK ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING #PLS TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!!! EX DEE #okay time to head to class sob

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Work It Out

Summary: Spencer realizes that he might just have feelings for his neighbor after seeing her in her workout gear.

A/N: I boofed it. Trying to write a blurb and I ended up writing a whole fic. I will never learn.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Implied that reader is athletic but no mention of her body type)

Category: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings/Includes: bad communication, cursing, smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, light spanking, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Requests Filled: 

“blurb idea that’s been living in my head, rent-free: reader is spencer’s neighbor and a dancer, who he has a huge crush on. spencer goes over to her apartment to borrow something and interrupts her daily stretches and spencer gets all flustered because she’s wearing leggings and a sports bra, and she’s so flexible”

“okay so this next thought came to my mind while i was doing some exercise lol: imagine that u started a new routine and you feel super tired at the ten minutes of the video haha, then spencer came back to work and when he see u doing some squats he's so turn on and then he just get close to you from behind and whispers "c'mon bunny, u can't with this, the only thing that u can handle is my cock" and then he just fuck y/n so hard aaaaaaaaa btw i'm the anon who sent that visual the past week of Twitter about the flowery lingerie 😌🙏🏻 —🥀”

“okay so like reader working out in Spencer’s apartment and he’s just watching her and getting all worked up. reader noticed and starts teasing him until he can’t handle it - 🐍”

-- -- --

They’d struck up a friendship almost instantly, from that first day that she moved in. He tried to help her with her boxes but he almost felt like he was holding her back, he got winded just going up and down the stairs on his own, let alone while he carried an entire box he later found out had been full of books. She laughed at him when he placed it down on her kitchen table and read the permanent marker label on the side. He still remembers how light her laugh had made him feel, how perfect it was.

From that first day things were just easy, effortless. He liked that he didn’t have to think around her, about work, about anything, he always felt so comfortable around her. Until that day.

The day that he couldn’t find his dustpan and brush after breaking a glass, so he went next door to see if she had one he could borrow. When he knocked on the door and heard a small ‘it’s open’, he walked in as normal, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight.

The furniture in her living room was pushed to the walls as she stretched in the centre of the room. He was sure there must’ve been a name for the pose she was in, but all he could concentrate on in that moment was how her body looked in the spandex of her leggings and sports bra. The smooth way her body contorted into strange shapes, the way her back arched so perfectly, and the way he could make out every curve of her body in a way he’d never really noticed before.

Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice his staring as she concentrated on her movements before finishing up her pose.

“What’s up Spence?” she breathed once she relaxed, turning her eyes to him.

And for a moment he wanted to turn around and run away. He was almost positive that his face was a glowing shade of pink, he could feel the heat as it radiated off of his cheeks while she looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, I um- A glass!” he stuttered out, “I broke a glass” he finally managed but she still just looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

“Okay, we’re really low on news today I see” she laughed, and he sort of wished she hadn’t, because it’s his absolute favorite sound.

“Sorry, I wanted to- I uh- I came over to see if you had a sweeping brush?” the words almost get caught in his throat but he fights to get them out, and he’s more proud than he really should be.

“Oh, under the sink!” she tells him, and he makes quick work of finding it before mumbling his ‘thanks’ and rushing back to the safety of his own apartment.

It’s a day he could never forget, even if his memory was normal. And part of him wished he could forget, because he knows that that’s the day he started treating her differently. It wasn’t easy or simple anymore. It was awkward and strange and he had a huge, stupid crush on her.

-- --

It doesn’t take long for her to notice the little changes in his behavior, the way he avoids her in the halls, or always seems to be inexplicably busy whenever she tries to make plans. And on the odd occasion that they do speak he never seems to be able to hold eye contact. It continues like that for a while until she just can’t take it for another second.

She waits until she knows he’s home, staring out the peephole at the door opposite hers until she sees him open it up and walk inside. She gives him about 5 minutes before she marches over and slams her fist against the door, a lot more urgent than necessary.

When he opens the door he looks tired and deflated, and his tie is undone, hanging around his neck. She can see the fatigue leave his features a second later, only to be replaced by a look of pure shock.

“Y/N?” he asks, like he’s not sure she’s really even there.

“Yeah, can I come in?” she asks, but she’s already maneuvering past him and into his living room like she’d done so many times before he’d gotten strange.

“What are you doing here?” he manages to get out once his shock subsides.

“What’s going on with you Spence? We’re best friends until one day you decide you don’t like me? What’s that about, I just have to pretend like I live next door to a stranger now?”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. She’s not even sure she can see him breathing as his face begins to flush.

“I’m sorry” he breathes out first, “I wasn’t trying to- okay I was avoiding you, but it’s not because I don’t like you”

“Sure seems like it” she sighs, and for a second he looks heartbroken.

“No!” he blurts out, “It’s not that, I swear” he shakes his head, reaching out to touch her before retracting his grip, thinking the better of it.

“Then what is it Spence?” she looks at him with a softness now, with a pleading behind her eyes, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“It’s because I do like you” he says it like he’s relieved, like it had been gnawing at him, “Because I really like you”

“Like me?” she asks, the realization finally dawning. “As in...”

“As in... romantically?” he can’t look at her when he says it, closing his eyes as if he’s bracing for impact. But the next thing he hears is his favorite sound once again. She laughs at him. It’s not cynical, or rude, it’s the kind that’s filled with joy, and maybe just a little exasperation.

“Well I wish you’d’ve told me that sooner” she says once she’s calmed down, and when he opens his eyes she’s smiling at him, taking a step closer.

“You do?”

“Mmhmm” she nods, “That way, I could’ve let you know all about this crush I’ve been harboring on you for a while now.”

He doesn’t have time to think before she’s got her lips on his, soft and delicate against him. For a minute he can’t really understand what’s happening as her hands reach up to cup his face softly, and they stay there after she pulls back. Her thumbs gently grazing his cheekbones as she admires his shocked expression.

“You’ve had a crush on me?” is the first thing he thinks to say, and she nods, smiling up at him.

“Since that first day when you helped me move in” she admits, and the timeline clicks in his head. She’s wanted this longer than he even had. Something about it puts his mind at ease, the though of being desirable to someone like her just makes him swell with pride in a way he’s not even sure he understands.

“Oh” is all he manages to get out though.

“I know, we gotta work on your self confidence because you, Spencer Reid, are a catch” she smiles at him before diving in for their second kiss.

-- --

It’s probably too crass to say out loud, but his favorite part about moving in together is undoubtedly, her daily exercise routine. Sometimes it’s in the morning, sometimes the afternoon, sometimes the evening. He’s actually starting to suspect that she times it for when she knows he’ll be around to see it.

He waited a little while to confess just know much he thought about her in those leggings. The lilac ones that were still in her rotation. Not that he didn’t find her sexy all of the time, he really did. But there was just something, maybe pavlovian, about seeing her in those lilac leggings. The way they hugged her body, he always found himself staring more than he was proud of.

Whatever routine she’s following this morning has her just a little out of breath. And he pretends to be reading the paper at his desk while she pants less than 10 feet away from him. The sound alone is distracting, but when he glances up and he can see her doing squats, all he can focus on is her ass in those fucking leggings.

“8, 9.... 10″ she breathes out, finishing off with a small groan.

“Too hard?” he chuckles, giving in and laying his paper down.

“No way, I can handle it” she turns around to grin at him before turning back around, starting into another set, counting them out slowly.

He seizes the opportunity and gets up out of his chair, making his way quietly over to her while she concentrates on her form. When he’s finally behind her she’s nearly out of breath again, pushing through the last rep when his hand snakes around her waist and pulls her back against him. He leans in to her ear as he whispers.

“C’mon Bunny, I guess you can handle your squats, but can you handle this” he almost moans it as he presses his already hard cock right up against her ass.

“Fuck” she breathes out in a little gasp, her hands moving up into his hair to pull him closer.

“Do you think you can handle it Bunny?” he groans again, grinding himself against her this time.

“Yes! Yes Spencer please, I can take it” she moans out as his hands begin to roam over her body, gently tracing along the exposed skin between her bra and her leggings, feeling the warmth of it.

“Then be a good Bunny and bend over for me, okay?” he growls against her ear and she moves fast, bending over the back of the sofa, and presenting herself to him. He takes a step back to admire the view for a moment before he’s got his hands on her body again. His fingers go straight to the waistband of the leggings, tugging the smooth fabric down, pulling it until it's gathered around her feet, quickly doing the same with her panties until there was nothing in his way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this” he groans, a soft hand caressing the smooth skin of her ass before rising up and coming back down with a loud slap, followed by a high pitched whine from her.

“Did you like that Bunny?” he asks, gripping a rough handful of her ass as she moans out a meek ‘yes’

So he repeats the action, pulling his hand up only to slam it back down again rough and excited against the now sensitive skin.

“Fuck” she purrs, her legs closing, thighs moving together in an attempt to get some friction. But he puts a stop to that right away, placing one of his feet between hers and kicking them apart so her legs were spread for him.

“If you wanted something Bunny, all you had to do was ask” he teases, moving his hand along the curve of her ass until it was hovering between her legs, where she was desperate and wanting. He purposefully lingers just a moment too long before pushing two fingers inside of her. He’s rewarded with a low moan that pours out of her.

“So wet from just a little spanking, you’re so good for me” he groans, “Do you think you can handle my cock yet sweetheart?”

She can’t help the way she clenches and tightens around his fingers at the very thought. It’s not like they didn’t fill her up, they were so much longer and more agile than her own fingers, but nothing could really compare to his cock.

“Fuck, please” she whimpers, wiggling her hips just a little as though that might help convince him that she deserved it.

“Such a good girl, I think you’ve earned it” as he speaks he pulls his fingers gently out of her, and she forces herself not to while at the loss of contact. He pulls his cock out of his boxers, pumping it himself a few times before he lines up behind her. Though they both love this position, she can’t help but miss watching him. The way his eyes close and and he bites his perfect plump bottom lip. But then he’s easing in and the feeling of him is enough to eclipse every other thought in her head.

“Oh god! Spencer!” she stutters out a moan, her hands flying forward to grab at the cushions on the sofa, digging her fingers into the soft down.

“You feel so good Bunny, always so wet for me” he groans as he pushes the whole way in, burying himself right up to the hilt.

His hands make their home on either side of her hips, his grip is tight as he pulls her back against him at the same time that he pushes his hips forward, slamming in on each thrust with everything he’s got.

Hips hit against her ass each time, rocking right up against the quickly forming handprint there whenever their skin collides. The slight burn only intensifying the already overwhelming pleasure.

“So- ah- I’m so close” she manages to moan out in between all the gasps and pants, and without speaking Spencer reaches down to grab the straps at the back of her sports bra, using the leverage to pull her back up. Meeting her halfway he presses his chest right up against her back, one hand snaking around to loosely grip her throat. The other making its way down between her legs.

“Fuck- Spencer- I-” she gasps at his fingers start to run in small circles around her swollen clit, his hips continuing their motions at the same time. All of it building dangerously fast.

“What’s the matter? Too much for you Bunny?” he teases with a groan, right against her ear.

“No!” she rushes out, one of her hands bracing herself against the back of the sofa, the other draping itself loosely over his hand between her legs, encouraging but not interfering with its movements.

“That’s a good girl. Are you gonna cum all over my cock Bunny?”

She doesn’t have time to answer his question before she’s putty in his hands. Melting into his grip as he continues to move inside of her and against her. The only thing keeping her from falling to the ground is her loose grip on the edge of the sofa and Spencers hand around her neck as she moans out his name.

It’s only a few seconds later that his hips begin to stutter and both of his hands are on her hips again, pulling them tight against his own as he grows closer and closer. And then he’s cumming with a rough groan and a bunch of shallow breaths, filling her up entirely as she begins to slump against the sofa once again.

“Spence, fuck” she says with a deep breath, “That was unbelievable”

They’re both covered in a layer of sweat now, and Spencer can feel the hair that’s probably stuck to his forehead. In his exhausted state all he really wants to do is lay down against her back, gathering their breathing again. But he knows that’s just his cloudy mind talking. So he manages to loosen his grip on her hips and pull out slowly before rushing to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth.

He takes it and gently cleans the mess that he made between her legs before it gets the chance to drip down. Once she’s clean he helps her stand upright once again.

Although he’d come a long way with his self confidence there were still times like this where he let himself feel awkward, or unsure. Especially right after he’d just been so bold. But in times like this she knows exactly what to do. Rising up, she places her hands on either side of his face and kisses him, soft and gentle, just for a moment, before pulling back again to look at him.

“Shower?”

-- -- --

Thank you so much for reading x 

-- -- --

Masterlist

Permanent Taglist:

@pinkdiamond1016

@shadyladyperfection

@catlynhoss05

@elldell1204

@jared-19-cant-reid

@lvndrmenace

@n-ecessity

@aubreyxanne

@spencereidshoe

@muffin-cup

@myescapefromthislife

@ezioauditore8880

@trulyneedy

@calm-and-doctor

@purpleknighthoundtoad

@smexyreid

@calm-and-doctor

@many-fandoms-follower-but-okay

@neverlandwaitingforme

@a-broken-pact

@no-alarms-no-surprises-silence

@s1utformgg

@reidemandweep

@blurryreid

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg imagine #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x you #spencer reid #mgg #fem reader #fem!reader

[storiesforallfandoms]

stop simping in the smp ~ swaggersouls

word count: 1340

request?: yes!

“Hey I’m not 100% sure who you write for but could I request something for Swaggersouls? Like you’re on the Epic SMP and he’s just super nice but like only to you and you go around telling everyone that he’s sweet and they’re like ‘I’m getting taxed to hell and he’s giving you stuff for free?’ And he gets called out for it? Maybe? Please?”

description: in which he gives his girlfriend preferential treatment within the smp

pairing: swaggersouls x female!reader

warnings: swearing, i don’t know a lot about minecraft or smps but i’m gonna try my best!

masterlist (one, two)

“MINX!” came the voice of your boyfriend in the next room, followed by Minx’s shocked shriek. You giggled to yourself as you continued to put together the apartment you had been given in the Epic SMP.

You weren’t one for Minecraft, you never had been, but Swagger and all of his friends as well as your fans had been begging you to join the SMP ever since you had announced that you and Swagger were together. Finally, you caved and made a character.

You soon came to learn that Swagger and Schlatt were basically the leaders of the SMP - the self appointed leaders at that. They liked to play two very greedy leaders, which included a “diamond tax” that they collected every morning in the SMP, which was what Swagger was doing in the next room to Minx.

You prepared for your own virtual door to be kicked open, however it ended up not being as violent as you expected. Instead, he politely opened the door and raced right up to you, getting his character right up in your face.

“Hi honey,” he said in an exaggerated cheerful voice. “How are you settling into the SMP?”

“Settling pretty well I think,” you responded with a chuckle. “Are you here to collect my diamond tax? Because I haven’t even mined yet.”

“Oh no, I’m not going to tax you. You’re only new to the SMP! Show me around your apartment here.”

You looked at him, suspiciously. This seemed like an act. You had a feeling once you showed him around he would find something to take for the tax. Against your better judgement, you did show him around the small place that would become your Minecraft home.

“Looks great, babe!” he said. “I’m gonna go continue my duties. Have a good day!”

He left, closing the door behind him as he went. You giggled to yourself as you went back to putting your apartment together.

After a while, you went next door and - unlike your boyfriend - politely knocked on Minx’s door. She opened it for you and allowed you to walk in.

“Hello new neighbor,” you said. “I am new to the SMP and was wondering if you could show me to the mines so I can mine and then craft.”

Minx laughed. “Yeah, I can show you. I was gonna go mining today anyways. Swagger took my last two diamonds. Do you have any tools?”

“I do not.”

“Here, you can have my old ones until you have what you need to make your own.”

She threw you an axe, a pickaxe, and a sword. You added them to your inventory and went off on your adventure to find the mines.

“So what did Swagger take from you since you didn’t have diamonds for the tax yet?” Minx asked.

“Nothing,” you responded.

“What?!” Minx stopped suddenly. “He didn’t take anything? Not even some blocks of dirt?”

You shook your head, then realized Minx couldn’t actually see you, so you figured out how to shake your character’s head instead. “I figure he’s waiting until I get diamonds before he starts taxing me.”

“That’s very unlike Swagger. He’ll tax you no matter what you have.”

The two of you continued to the mines. When you got there, you found Selma and Ethan already mining. Even though you already knew them in real life, Minx introduced you to them again as the “new resident of the SMP”.

“Get this guys,” Minx said as you started in on your mining. “Swagger didn’t tax (Y/N)!”

“Wait, not at all?” Selma asked. You shook your character’s head again. “What the fuck?! He took all the coal I had when I didn’t have diamonds! He and Schlatt still tax me and I don’t even live in the tower anymore!”

“Swagger is totally simping,” Ethan said. “He’s not taxing (Y/N) because she’s his girlfriend.”

You laughed as Minx and Selma agreed. You assured them that wasn’t true and that you were sure Swagger would start taxing you once you actually had stuff worth taxing.

To your surprise, Swagger continued to be nice to you and didn’t tax you on anything, even when you started mining diamonds. He would even make a point of taxing Minx in front of you when you would be in her apartment, but not ask you for anything.

One day, as you started up your stream and joined the SMP, you could hear Swagger in his own streaming room. He was arguing over the taxing with someone, which caused you to giggle.

“What am I about to spawn into, chat?” you asked as the loading screen popped up. Messages came in so quickly you could barley read them, but there were mainly a lot of warnings for when you entered the SMP.

You spawned into your apartment. Near seconds later, the door opened and Schlatt walked in.

“(Y/N),” he said, “please follow me to the town square.”

You held back your laughter at his seriousness as you followed him. There was a small crowd in the town square already. You recognized Swagger, Minx, Selma, Ethan, Fitz, and Ross. There was a podium in front of everyone, which Schlatt stood as once the two of you had arrived.

“Thank you all for coming,” he started. “We are gathered here today because it has been brought to my attention that my business partner, SwaggerSouls, has been committing the cardinal sin: he has been simoing in the SMP.”

The group gasped dramatically and turned to look at Swagger.

“I am not simping!” Swagger argued.

“Then why aren’t you taxing (Y/N)?” Fitz asked. “I’m being taxed to hell and he’s just letting his girlfriend live in the tower rent free!”

“She’s new!”

“She’s been playing with us for nearly two weeks!”

“Everyone calm down!” Schlatt called. “This is an easy fix. I hereby make it SMP law that no one, especially myself or Swagger, can pick favorites within the EpicSMP. Swagger, you are going to go to (Y/N)’s apartment and get the diamonds she owes us.”

Everyone started to talk at once, applauding the decision. Swagger turned to you, exchanging a look for a moment before you both started back to your apartment.

“Well, that was a great five minutes,” you joked. “I don’t think I needed to be there for that, but I’m glad I got to witness like a trial or something.”

You walked into your apartment and realized that Swagger’s character had stopped following you some time back. You looked out the windows in the tower’s hallway, trying to find out where he could’ve gone, when the door to your streaming room opened suddenly. Swagger walked in, sans his familiar chainmail and knight helmet as you usually streamed with face cam off while he was home.

“I really tried, babe,” he said as he walked closer to you. “I was trying to make it so you could live in the SMP tax free, but I guess no one else was having it.”

“Of course they weren’t,” you laughed as he leaned down to your level to wrap his arms around you. “You and Schlatt taxed the hell out of everyone, they’re not gonna be happy that you’re not taxing me. It’s partially my fault since I told Minx first that you hadn’t taxed me, but you could’ve tried to make it less obvious, too.”

“Nope, you’ve admitted to partial blame, I no longer feel bad.”

He kissed your cheek and whispered a quick, “Love you” in your ear before going back to his own room, slamming the door shut loud enough for your chat to know he was gone. Everyone started messaging about how cute it was that Swagger wanted you to join the SMP without taxing, and in general about how cute the two of you were as a couple.

“I have a feeling he’s going to be making those surprise appearances a lot when he starts having to tax me and shit,” you said to the chat.

#swaggersouls #swaggersouls imagine #swaggersouls x reader #epic smp #misfits #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[tomwambsmilk]

You're like my favorite TomWamb blog so I hope you don't mind my insanity as I watch through the show for the first time (I already know how S3 ends). <3

I'm watching 2x10 and...

THE '?' !!! THE FREAKING '?' !!!! That's a 'potential successor?' question mark if I've ever freaking seen one! And this is prior to his offer of self-sacrifice and the S3 finale. Our little minnesota boy's gotta have like 5 ?s (or check marks or circled) next to his name by now. Bring on the chicken power play. Bring on the Wambsgans supremacy! *maniacal laughter*

I used to think there was no way Logan would not give it to one of his kids... but does Tom have a legitimate shot?

Thank you!! <3 <3 I do not mind your insanity at all, please keep sending it to me because I LOVE getting people's reactions to the insanity that is Succession. When I make my friends who live across the country watch it I watch it with them and force them to live-text me updates. (I have very indulgent friends). 

I know it took me forever to get to this, but that’s because this particular ask finally convinced me to write the essay that's been living rent-free in my head for weeks, tentatively titled "Here is Why I am a Tom CEO Truther". So thank you and also I'm sorry because I can't imagine this is what you expected when you sent this! (Especially since it took me nearly 4 days to write).

I’m gonna put this under a “Read More” because it’s very long:

First - I actually had not picked up on those question marks!! And that’s REALLY interesting, given everything that’s happened with both Tom and Kendall over the course of Season 2. I suspect that the reason, in that particular moment, Logan had starred them as successors was not necessarily because he’d thought they’d be good, but because he thought they would work well as “puppet CEOs” - people who could continue to maintain control through if he had to step down. Kendall, because he’s spend Season 2 wrapped around Logan’s finger, and Tom, because Logan’s always thought of him as someone without much of a spine, and he knows how badly Tom wants to be on his good side. Everyone else on that list has too many ulterior motives tampering with their loyalty, or too much ambition to be trusted. 

That being said, it’s interesting that Tom isn’t initially on his shit-list, given how publicly he bungled the cruises situation. The second half of Season 2 really does make it seem like he might be being set up to take the fall - although, in my opinion, I think it was less a deliberate conspiracy to send him to jail and more that the Roy family didn’t have a vested interest in protecting him. They didn’t want him to take the fall, but if someone had to.... well. 

And it’s especially interesting that Cyd is on Logan’s shit-list and Tom isn’t. Considering that Logan had them positioned to face off against each other, that seems to imply that Tom is winning that battle. And I think there are other bits of evidence for that - we know that Tom and Greg are working on digitizing ATN, which will be a HUGE boon to cost and efficiency; we see him handle the Ravenhead interview with both delicacy (so as not to alienate him) but also enough shrewdness to get to the bottom of what’s going on; Gerri mentions to Roman in “Argestes” that Logan intially wanted Tom to go negotiate with the Turks (but Gerri convinced him to send Roman). Those are just three examples off the top of my head, but it does seem that Tom has actually proven himself to be competent. (Aside from the cruises thing - but for me, that just increases the evidence that there was something sus in the way the family handled it. I suppose there’s also ‘We hear for you’, but even there, while it’s bad branding it is relatively shrewd of Tom to come up with something on the fly which is nonsensical enough to protect him from personal pushback or legal flack). Now, part of it is definitely that Tom is married to Shiv; but, that shift from Logan not caring much for Tom at all to possibly protecting him is intriguing, especially since the Season 2 finale makes it clear that you can’t actually marry into the Roy family, in a fundamental sense. Tom isn’t really family, because he isn’t blood, and he never really will be. 

Tom’s competency, I think, is important. We don’t get to see too much of it, because the way the Roy family does business has far less to do with competence than with family dynamics, but it is there. 

Now, I think that Tom becoming CEO works not just with the world’s internal logic, but on a narrative/thematic level. But, to understand why I am a CEO Tom truther, we have to take a step back for a second, and look at Logan and his relationships with the kids.

Why doesn’t he let any of the kids be CEO? That’s a complicated question. Right out the gate, there are issues entirely his own which affect that decision - his reluctance to give up control, his lack of a sense of identity outside of Waystar, and his refusal to acknowledge his age and impending mortality. But those aren’t the only reasons; in addition to this, it’s pretty obvious that none of his kids are ready.

They all have strengths, for sure. It’s not that they’re utterly incompetent messes. Kendall understands the tech industry, which is where the money is, and how Waystar can and should pivot to take advantage of it. Shiv understands the political landscape, and the ways in which ATN, in particular, needs to pivot to not crumble and collapse when it’s current audience dies; it also positions her to be able to continue Logan’s strategy of maintaining influence with the White House. Roman understands people, and so is able to build relationships and make deals particularly effectively; Matsson most obviously, but even prior to that he has good relationships with people like Lawrence Yee.

But they also have major flaws, and far away the biggest flaw, what’s going to prevent them from being effective CEOs, is that they just don’t understand the world. They understand a part of it, maybe. But they’ve all grown up so utterly sheltered (as Marcia says to Shiv, Logan has built them a playground which they believe is the whole world), that they have massive blind spots there. 

Kendall I think has the most real-world knowledge, but he’s also not capable of dealing with the kind of stressors that come with it. While the show doesn’t delve hugely into the background of his substance abuse issues, they seem to be triggered by high-stress situations, especially related to Waystar. That leads me to believe that he’s never been given the experiences he’d need to to build good stress-management techniques, especially for operating at the level he’d need to as a CEO. (To be clear, I’m not saying this is the root of all substance abuse issues, or the only cause at play, but I think for Kendall this is a particularly big part of it, and a huge implement to effective functioning). 

Roman has people knowledge, but he doesn’t have the same operational savvy that Kendall does. The fact that so many of his opinions on which films would and wouldn’t be successful (when he was working in LA) were wrong is an early indicator of this. Unlike Kendall, Roman never really has a strategy for how he would operate if he was CEO. There are other issues too, such as how desperate he is to please Logan, and how he lets that cloud his judgment, but that’s circumstantial to the main issue.

And Shiv? Shiv is terrible with people. Just atrocious. Just.... awful. I mean, she’s obviously bad with Tom, but even aside from that - it’s really telling that after she gets a position at Waystar in season 3, she almost immediately alienates the entire senior staff. She has a conversation with Tom about Ravenhead that I think is indicative of how disconnected she is (she thinks that all people need to know is that Logan wants something, and they’ll do it). She’s constantly underestimating the people around her, and that’s a potentially fatal flaw for a CEO.

The tragic irony is that if all three siblings worked together, they probably could run Waystar well, because their strengths compensate for each other’s flaws. But they spend three seasons infighting and bitching and letting every opportunity to unite pass them by, because they all so desperately want Logan’s love and approval for themselves. It’s really, really tragic that in order to unite they need to smash their own hopes of that love and approval, and then at that point... it’s too late.

Taken together, it becomes clear that to be a successful CEO, someone would need “all of the above”: they need business savvy, people skills, an understanding of the political and cultural landscape, and enough stress tolerance to deal with high-stress situations.

And Tom, over the course of three seasons, either demonstrates each of these skills, or demonstrates that he’s growing into it.

In terms of business savvy - while we don’t see a ton of detail, we do find out in 3x09 that he’s “turned ATN citizens into a cash machine”, a feat so impressive Forbes is doing a piece on him. People skills? He’s able to manipulate Greg as far back as season 1 because he immediately clocks Greg’s desperate desire to belong somewhere; he handles the Ravenhead situation in season 2 well, and Logan was going to send him to negotiate with the Turks. Political/cultural landscape? His objections to doing a hard pivot with Ravenhead in season 3 I think belie an understanding of the way in which ATN needs to seems consistent in order to be trustworthy; and when he meets with Cyd at the beginning of season 2 he indicates an awareness of the impending demographic crisis at ATN. And stress tolerance? While it’s not something Tom has in spades at the beginning, the various situations he’s been in over the three seasons has built up that tolerance immensely. You don’t become the face of a national corporate scandal without either learning how to manage stress or go off the rails entirely. 

And most importantly? Tom is an outsider. He has the real-world knowledge that the siblings lack. And, unlike them, he had to work his way up in Waystar in order to even get to a level where Shiv would notice him. He has a proven track record where the sibs do not.

(One interesting detail in season 3 is that Tom is always in the room whenever inner circle discussions are happening, which is a shift from previous seasons. And importantly, everyone else in the room is either family, or in a role where they would need to be present - such as general counsel or CFO. Tom is the chariman of ATN, which is important but not C-suite, and as the season 2 finale makes clear he’s not really family, which means Logan has chosen to include him on individual merit.)

I want to also touch on Logan’s arc, briefly, which I think is not discussed enough but is really fascinating to me. I do believe that Logan built up Waystar with the idea of giving it to his kids, as an act of love, and so the fact that none of his kids are individually able to take that mantle feels to him like a personal betrayal. I think he really doesn’t understand - or doesn’t want to acknowledge - the role that he’s played in his children’s incompetence. There’s a phenomenon that’s common to a lot of people with shitty childhoods, where they know they had a shitty childhood, but reduce it to material factors, and think that if they just fix those material factors their own kids will be happy, not understanding that the key element that was missing was love and emotional support - and that’s 100% Logan. He looked at his own childhood and attributed its awfulness to the poverty and physical abuse he experienced, and resolved to make sure his own children experienced neither. And now that they’re adults, he can’t for the life of him understand why they would turn out this way, because in his mind he fixed the problem. 

The reason why the kids are so upset about Logan selling Waystar to GoJo is because in their minds, this is Logan saying that “you’ll never be able to earn my love”. And the thing is.... they aren’t wrong. That is exactly what Logan is saying. He’s given up on them, he’s rejecting them as his children, because they have failed him and (in his mind) this means they don’t love him, and so he’s done with them. 

With all this in mind, Logan grooming Tom for CEO makes alot of sense. As mentioned above, he has the competence the children lack, so there’s a practical element there. And Tom has more in common with Logan than his children do, considering that Tom, like Logan, spent most of his career pulling himself up rather than getting handouts. Tom has also now demonstrated the loyalty to Logan that Logan always wanted to get from his children; particularly by offering to go to prison and by selling out Shiv. And finally - making Tom CEO would drive the siblings insane. It’s Tom, for fuck’s sake. The “corn-fed basic from hockey town”. I think that Logan would make Tom CEO just to spite his children, and in the process call him the “son he never had”. 

(And I think, on some level, there’s truth to that. Tom’s competency and loyalty do, in a way, make him the kind of man Logan wanted as a son). 

So Tom becoming CEO makes sense for Logan and the kid’s arcs. But, what about Tom’s arc?

Tom’s arc has been a little more difficult to pin down, and I’m going to throw out there as a caveat that it has happened before that I thought a character’s arc was one thing and it turned out to be another. But - so far, a lot of Tom’s arc has consisted of him learning not to love. 

Tom spends seasons 1 and 2 prioritizing Shiv and his marriage. Sure, he tries to play both sides when he can, because he doesn’t want to lose Logan’s favour, but when push comes to shove he always choses Shiv. (It’s one of the reasons Logan doesn’t respect him in those seasons). Shiv, when faced with similar choices, never choses Tom. This continues until 2x10 and the prison conversation, which for Tom is the breaking point. Then, in season 3, he does still try to work on his marriage - but he stops prioritizing it over Logan, and starts trying to shore up his position with Logan independently of Shiv. 

Season 1 and 2 Tom wants, more than anything, to be happily married. He’ll throw his career ambitions out the window (sadly and reluctantly, but he will) if that’s what it’ll take. He’ll play boar on the floor and be the patsy and whatever else it takes. It’s not until 2x10 that he realizes there is no length he can go to in order to make Shiv love him the way he loves her. It’s not until 2x10 that he realizes he will never have the marriage that he wants. 

So he spends season 3 re-orienting and shifting. Now that he’s more or less given up on his marriage, he can start moving strategically to secure his career ambitions. He leaves the door open as long as he can for Shiv to express interest in him, to give him a reason to change course, but she doesn’t. So, he prioritizes Logan more and more until we get the 3x09 betrayal. 

Tom going on to become CEO is a natural extension of this arc, I think. It’s a kind of inverse hero’s journey, where instead of maximizing his potential for good, Tom begins to embrace his more aggressive and machiavellian tendencies in a way he hasn’t before. He undergoes a “loganification”, if you will (in keeping with the idea that he and Logan share a common background). But as he becomes more like Logan, he also suffers the consequences of being Logan. He alienates those around him who love him; Shiv, his parents, even Greg. He ends up miserable and alone, his entire identity wrapped up with his role in a dying legacy media operation. 

It’s possible that at this point he might choose to break the cycle. Tom’s deep desire to love, guide, and protect (which we see come out in his relationship with Greg) also means he’d be a pretty good dad. And I think that might be one key difference between Tom and Logan which would bring down the whole operation; that if Tom has a kid, he’s not willing to treat them the way Logan would. This child, the newest Roy family heir, is not going to be abused and neglected and forced to fight for Tom’s affection. And I think that would be the beginning of Tom’s “downfall”, since now Shiv and the siblings have leverage over Tom in the form of his kid. 

But in the end, it would also mean that the cycle of abuse begins to break. There’s a glimmer of hope for the future, and it comes in the form of Tom and his insatiable desire to love.

#ask #tom wambsgans #succession #shiv roy #kendall roy #roman roy #greg hirsch #logan roy #the last little bit is speculative obviously #this is where i see the arc going but i could be wrong #i trust you jesse armstrong #but thanks for sending this!! it was so much fun to write

[angry-geese]

hello, how are you? so i don't remember very well how it went, but yesterday i found your tumblr and i was amazed and you write so well 🥺💗

but then i'm a bucciarati simp (i will never get over your end) and i would like to know if you can write a scenario where the reader is just an ordinary citizen who admires bucciarati (because he helped her a while ago) and wants to join the passione and he's just against it because he doesn't want to expose her to danger, he just wants to know her real reason, so he uses his ability to find out if she's lying, which is very helpful as there's a sexual tension there and well, everything ends up in sex.

ok that was very specific lmao maybe if you want to change or are not willing to write, that's fine with me.

anyway thanks, you are amazing 💗💗

aww thank you <3

don't ever worry about being too specific, I always love seeing what other people come up with :)

Tomorrow - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. mutual pining, fluff. minor mention of violence. unprotected sex, quickie, fingering, hickeys, hair pulling, body worship (??? if you squint???). afab reader.

word count: 1.7k

It's hard to believe it's almost been a year.

Your shop had been open for barely a month. When you first moved to your neighborhood, it was made known to you it was a dangerous place. But rent was low, and the building was just too perfect to pass up on. Not many places had room for a bakery, and a space to live upstairs.

You were in over your head. But you were too stubborn to admit it.

It had caught his eye the moment he saw it. Maybe it was its cozy nature; a small shop tucked away, full of plants, a cat dozing off in the window. Or it could have been your inviting smile, the way you lit up as the door opened.

Every day he got the same order. By the end of the first week, you made sure to have it ready for him.

From the very beginning you faced issues. A business like yours attracted a lot of attention; good and bad. The local gangs knew you were bringing in money. They wanted a cut, and you weren't willing to give it to them.

You should have given it to them.

You were warned. They told you they'd come back. You were warned but didn't listen.

They trashed your shop. You swept broken glass from your floors for weeks before it finally came out. They were persistent; more than you ever thought. When you stood up to them, they threatened to kill you. They probably would have, had Bruno not stepped in. While you were willing to lay down your life for your business, he wasn't going to let you.

You're not quite sure what Bruno did, but you never saw those men again.

You never charged him for food again. If it meant he would keep coming back to your shop, you would do a lot of things. You said you owed him. At first, he was willing to accept. Weeks went on as you still refused his money. It got to the point where he felt bad. He hid money around your apartment hoping that you'd take the hint. But you never did.

You could never pay him back. Bruno claims you already have—with all the free food—but truly it's a debt that can't be repaid. Putting it lightly, you owe him your life.

The mess was cleaned up, but you'd never feel safe in your home again.

Over the past few months, Bruno had become one of your closest—if not your closest—friend. His little free time was spent at your shop. The two of you could talk for hours about nothing in particular. Business would come and go, but he was always there. If you called, he'd come running. You really didn't have to call. At the first sign of problems he was by your side.

Bruno's influence only works so much. He could only pay off those thugs for so long.

He was worried when you missed his call this morning.

His stomach sinks as he sees the broken glass.

You're not crying. You really don't look too upset. To you, this is the final nail in your coffin. You only notice him as he stops. You motion for him to sit next to you on the steps.

The people in this town are like vultures. They can sense any bit of fortune. Any money you have can't be kept for long. Stashing it away is never a good idea.

"What happened?" He asks.

"I didn't get my protection fees paid in time."

He takes a seat next to you. For the first time in his life, he feels speechless. As far as he knew, he'd taken care of this. Those thugs would have hell to pay.

"I want to join." You say.

"What?"

"I'm taking Polpo's test." You say. "I want to join Passione."

"Why?"

It's finally occurred to you how close your faces are.

You ball up your apron and toss it aside. You don't have a better answer for him. As much as you wish you did; you don't. You want to tell him anything but the truth. Really, he feels betrayed. Has he not done enough? Has this all gone to waste? He's tried all he can to keep you away from the gangs.

It seems it wasn't enough.

His grip on your arm tightens. You don’t dare look him in the eyes. As if you couldn't be more obvious. You nearly jump out of your skin as he licks a long stripe up your cheek. Instantly your face goes red. Your cheeks burn at the heat that sends right to your core. You're stammering out a few nonsensical sentence fragments.

"That's the taste of a liar, y/n."

You whip around to face him. "I want to be able to defend myself!"

The look in his eyes isn't what you expect. It's more a look of betrayal than anything. To be honest, you didn't expect him to have any reaction at all. He's rather adamant about keeping you away from Passione.

"I can protect you." His voice has gone oddly soft. "I'll take care of you."

Bruno's grip on your arms loosens.

He leans in for a kiss. It's soft, but his warmth lingers on your lips long after he's pulled away. He smells like fancy cologne, and almost like a restaurant, strangely enough. It's a weird, comforting mix of cooked food and expensive men's cologne.

He's wanted to do this since he first met you.

His hands move to cup your cheeks. They're so warm. It's hard to resist his touch. He looks at you with such longing that it makes your chest swell with affection. The heat in your face returns, but it's in less of a lewd manner. He admires every dip and curve of your clothed body; how your waist is cinched in whenever you wear your apron, how your strong hands work pastry dough into shape.

He leans in for another kiss. It's deeper this time, and leaves a longing ache in your chest. The rough muscle of his tongue presses past your lips. He tastes faintly of alcohol.

You're too impatient to get to your room. He'll settle on bending you over your apartment's kitchen counter. He wants to take his time with you, but for now, he's content with this. Maybe there'll be a second time.

His long fingers work to undo the buttons of your pants. You don't take a lot of prep work. You're already soaked. Two of his fingers press into you. They’re long, but fairly thin, and slide right into you. His fingers stroke against your g-spot as his thumb works circles around your clit. It doesn’t take him long to figure out just what makes you weak. Bruno has you a shaking, moaning mess in no time.

You lean against the counter, propping yourself up on your elbows. He wastes no time in freeing himself from his pants. His cock is built like the rest of him; long and dark. It’s girthy, but not intimidatingly big. The hairs towards the base are neatly trimmed, and the same color as the hair on his head. A vein runs up the bottom, only getting more prominent as he gets harder. He shoves your pants down to your knees.

Bruno groans as he sheathes himself in you. The feeling of your warm, wet cunt is intoxicating. Maybe he’s a bit more pent up than he thought. His hand buries in your hair. He leans forward to nip at your earlobe. Bruno coos words of praise into your ear, telling you how good you take him, how good you feel around him.

He rolls his hips against yours in desperate, quick motions. Bruno can't decide what to do with his hands. They're gripping your breasts, then your hips, then settling in your hair. He’ll have you like this again, he’s certain of it.

Heat pools in your stomach. His touch leaves you with an aching need for more.

"Fuck- I've wanted this for so long," he says, "you’re so beautiful.”

His fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He sucks a dark mark into your shoulder—one where you won’t be able to see it. It sends a whole new heat to your core. While his cock isn't the biggest, it curves in just a way that makes your toes curl.

He makes it known just what he thinks about you; babbling about how good you feel around him, about how long he’s wanted to do this.

The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. If you had any neighbors, you'd certainly be getting noise complaints. Your moans are like music to his ears. You don't worry about being quiet. Let others hear you, what do you care?

"Harder Bruno!" You cry out.

He can't resist something as beautiful as you.

His free hand moves to your clit, tracing circles around the bundle of nerves. He works you up in a way you never knew possible. Your skin feels feverish, and sensitive to the touch. The heat in your stomach only gets more unbearable. You want to beg him to cum inside. You need him to cum inside. Your mind is too hazy to think of much else but him and the way he fucks into you. He leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.

Something in you snaps. There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge; it's everything. You clench around him as you cum, crying out. The way you suck him back in is almost enough to send him over the edge.

His thrusts get sloppier as he nears his own orgasm. He scrambles against the counter for purchase, gripping the edge of it so tight his knuckles turn white. He doesn't want to risk cumming inside. He pulls out, giving himself a few pumps before cumming into his hand.

Bruno presses a kiss to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. Your skin is sticky with sweat. A tired, but pleased look spreads across your face. His hair tickles your neck. The sight of your shaky, sleepy form is almost enough to make him hard again.

You lean back into him, giggling. “We made a mess…”

“Want to make another?”

"Are you suggesting a round two?” It’s a joke, but you carry some seriousness behind it.

"Anything for you,"

#jjba x reader #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo #not sfw #i forgot theres like three different ways to spell this guys name

[sambvcks]

redefined, b.b. x reader

summary: just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined.

warnings: mentions of food, blood, gunshot wound

word count: 3.7k....whoops

author’s note: first standalone! i’m also itching to work on a sam story next. the last episode still lives in my mind rent free and this is a reworking of that which diverges from civil war and we get one big happy avenging family that aren’t dead :)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

Longing

An Avenger.

The concept was still so foreign to Bucky, despite dozens of successful missions under his belt and a permanent residence in the tower. Still, every morning he sprung up in bed expecting to still be in some run-down apartment halfway across the world, on the run.

Instead, he would awake on a plush mattress that offered little back support. He would shuck on the first shirt his bleary eyes could see and pad into the hallway, the smell of fresh coffee overtaking his superhuman sense of smell. You would be perched at the kitchen counter, pouring over mission files stained with coffee rings that Tony would later complain about.

Steve and Sam would have already come through on their way to their morning run, the coffee pot running dangerously low. You’d already placed his favorite mug nearby, two packets of sugar emptied into the bottom. A routine.

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever have a routine again.

His hand would press against your shoulder in a familiar greeting as he passed, you’d grin up at him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile before returning to your work. Your cereal sat forgotten beside you, the overly sweetened kid’s choice growing soggy.

It was a silent and comfortable interaction. Neither worked to fill the quiet or felt the need to. Even with Steve, there was always talking and planning and ‘what about this’. With you, it was so natural to just exist how he was in that moment. No excuses, no whispered apologies.

He pushed his back against the sink as he sipped at his coffee, eyes immediately settling on your distracted figure. Your pajamas were wrinkled, mouth formed into a perfect concentrated from as you hunched uncomfortably, hand scribbling furiously. He swallowed and decided you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, especially with your coffee breath and fingernails chewed to nubs.

He wanted so desperately to move across the kitchen and press himself perfectly against you, to push aside your paperwork and demand your sole attention. His hand clenched into a fist as he longed to feel your soft, round cheeks in his hands, how warm you would feel against the cool metal of his left and how you’d nuzzle closer still.

He hadn’t heard the dragging footsteps of Steve and Sam returning from their run and didn’t even notice them until they were settled at the doorway, watching him watch you.

“Morning.” Steve grinned, all knowing. Bucky cleared his throat and refocused on his mug.

“Morning.” Bucky replied with a look that said ‘don’t say anything’.

Rusted

Bucky learned that if you weren’t cooped up in your room or camped out on the kitchen island, you were tucked away in Tony’s garage. On slow days where it seemed everyone was off in their own little world, Bucky would know to find you under the hood of one of Tony’s vintage cars, each kept in pristine condition, but you claimed that ‘there’s always something to work on’.

Bucky was never a car guy. His family was too poor to even think of ever owning his own car. He didn’t even have his own license and technically couldn’t legally ride his bike either. He found out quickly that being an Avenger meant the term legal could be bent a bit. So, he wasn’t a car guy. But the sight of you with streaks of grease across your face and your raggedy workshop clothes would have him buying one just to see you work on it.

You were notoriously protective of your little hideaway, the music loud and the sound of metal ringing as you fixed and fiddled with every little thing. Steve nearly got a wrench to the face when he tried to distract you from Tony’s antique Chevy.

Bucky was different, though. He was always different.

He would sit himself on a tall stool positioned next to one of Tony’s many rolling tool chests. You’d call out a tool and he’d rifle through the collection until he found what he thought was the right one and only slightly tease him when he’d emerge with the wrong one. Typically, you’d spend these afternoons in silence, the thumping of the heavy base of whatever crazy metal album you picked the only soundtrack to your work.

Sometimes, though, you’d play gentle rock music. Bucky would ask questions on what you were doing, how you learned to do all of this, why you did it when Tony worked on these cars enough for the both of you.

You’d fish your rag from your pocket, concentrating on scrubbing the grease from under your fingernails as you answered.

“I like using my hands. I like fixing things. For every car that Tony has in this garage, there are hundreds just like it sitting in junkyards gathering cobwebs and rust.” You looked up at him from under eyelashes and Bucky knew you were speaking about much more than just hunks of metal. “They’re worthy of love and care.”

You were talking about him, too.

Seventeen

Bucky didn’t think this superhero business would have so many parties. There seemed to be a celebration for everything. Galas, fundraisers, full on parades whenever Tony happened to wake up in a good mood.

At least this one is a holiday, he thought to himself as he nursed his third beer of the hour. Not that it did anything other than keep his hands occupied.

The year was coming to a close, and the top floor of the Avengers Tower was decked in golden confetti and banners to ensure no one forgot. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the lyrics made little sense, but everyone seemed to be having a good time mingling and even venturing to the dance floor.

No matter how many times Sam tried to drag him in with an invisible rope, Bucky was not going to dance. Well. Maybe he would if you asked.

The party had been in full swing for hours now, with only ten minutes until the ball a few blocks up finally dropped and he could sneak away to his room without a teasing ‘bedtime already, old timer?’ from Nat.

Still, the party raged on and he eyed the glass door to the balcony. He downed the last of his beer, brushing past enthusiastic partygoers with his shoulders hunched forward in some attempt to minimize the space he took up in the room that only seemed to be getting smaller. He caught Steve’s eye on the way out and plastered on a smile in response to his disappointed look.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as the glass door slid closed behind him. His eyes closed as he leaned back against it, the chill of the December New York air blew his hair in every direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You were sat in the far corner, so well hidden he hadn’t even noticed you, though he had been on the lookout for you all night. “Tired of the festivities?”

“And Tony’s music.” He grumbled as he fell into the seat beside you.

“Been waiting for you for the past thirty minutes. Honestly, you made it a lot longer than I could’ve in there.”

You were waiting for him. You wanted him to be there, with you, tucked away from everyone else’s prying eyes. He wanted that, too. Sometimes he wanted it so much it scared him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll. It’s not polite for a gentleman to make a girl wait.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” Your shoulder pressed against his, eyes focused on the smattering of buildings surrounding you. Identical parties were happening in each of them, you were sure. “Can you believe another year is gone?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to make it to 2017 and my back hasn’t given out yet.”

You laughed, loud and unabashedly in a way only Bucky could make you laugh. Head thrown back and eyes glittering from the city lights, Bucky wanted to spend every new year you would allow him to by your side, trying his best to make you laugh again.

“Well,” You stood to peer over the glass railing, Bucky close behind you. You could hear the drunken cries inside as the countdown begun. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Bucky offered his hand to you. You took it easily.

5, 4, 3…

He wanted nothing more than to pull you close, to finally press a kiss on the lips that had thrown teasing remarks at him during missions. To once and for all end this little dance you both loved so much. But you looked so perfect.

Bucky wasn’t ready to ruin that perfection with everything wrong with him quite yet.

“Happy 2017, Bucky.” You whispered as the fireworks started, but Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes from you.

“Happy 2017, doll.”

Daybreak

The mission had been long and grueling. The week-long stakeout turned into two and quickly turned into a month away. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a good night of sleep that wasn’t interrupted with Bucky’s hand on your shoulder, telling you it was your turn to keep watch.

It wasn’t a horrible mission, more of an exercise in patience and restraint than anything. Bucky’s stories kept you entertained enough, and he was a good partner. Which is why you were paired together more often than not.

Still, it was nice to finally collapse into your familiar bed, not even bothering to kick of shoes or take a much-needed shower. Your sleeping schedule was all out of whack and you tossed and turned, despite the exhaustion seeping through your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you finally huffed a sigh of defeat and stumbled back to your feet. You showered, which was a few good days overdue, and dressed in your largest, most comfortable pajamas.

You weren’t surprised to see Bucky up as well, sitting at the dining table with a mug of fresh coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His foot kicked out the seat beside him as an invitation.

“Sleeps overrated, anyways.” You shrugged, slumping into the seat and pressing your face into the cool glass of the table.

“Sleep is good for you.” He insisted, reaching forward to brush aside the hair that had curtained over your face. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“So do you, Buck.”

He stayed silent for a while, just sipping at his coffee and stealing glances at you, face trained out the floor to ceiling windows. He really didn’t know what he deserved, anymore. Sure, he had made some semblance of peace with what the Winter Soldier had done with his body. He was better, that was certain.

Worthy of you and all your unwavering sweetness? He wasn’t so sure.

You idly chatted about nothing for hours, filling comfortable silence with talks of the mission and the food poisoning he had given you when he tried to make dinner two weeks in. You sat side by side until day broke the next morning, eyes squinting at the sun peeking over skyscrapers and finally finding the need to fall shut in rest.

“I guess I should say ‘good morning’ instead of ‘good night’.” You were the first to stand, shuffling towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Good morning.” He answered as you padded away, deciding he would be just fine losing sleep every night if it meant he could watch the sunrise by your side.

Furnace

“Doesn’t Tony make enough money to keep this place at least habitable?” You grumbled as you fell into the couch beside Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky sat in his patent jeans and t-shirt, unphased by the temperature that practically had your teeth chattering. You were bundled in multiple layers, including one of the many sweatshirts he’d wear jogging on cold mornings and blankets you had stolen off his bed. Your glare from under your cocoon of warmth rivaled even his.

“I’m not a muscle-y super soldier-”

“You think I’m muscle-y?”

“-that runs so hot you’re basically a personal furnace.”

“Oh, so now I’m hot.”

“I would strangle you to death right now, but I’m about to lose my fingers to hypothermia.” You burrowed further into your smattering of blankets with a violent chill running down your spine. Bucky simply rolled his eyes and marked the spot in the book he had been reading before you stormed in.

“C’mere.”

He balled up a fistful of one of your blankets, tugging you even closer to him. You opened your arms to allow for direct contact, sighing contently as your face pressed into his shoulder and legs tangled with his. You sighed contently as you welcomed his warmth, shimmying as close as you could get.

“Better?”

“The best.”

Nine

“Do you ever think what your life would be like? If you’d gotten to go home?”

Even a year ago, this question would have turned Bucky into a brooding mess. He would have delved into every little moment he had missed, every plan that had been turned upside down when he fell from that train all those years ago. But he was better now, more contemplative. He wouldn’t drown in the idea of what could have been because he knows what it’s like to be on the other side.

“I like to think I would’ve gone to college.”

“Really?”

“You calling me dumb, doll?”

“No! You’re the smartest person I know. I’m just picturing you at college. Carrying textbooks and wooing all the dames.” You fell into him at the thought, a fake swoon overtaking your face.

“I’d be too busy studying for dames.”

“Studying what?”

“I always liked math. Maybe engineering or something. Wanted to be a teacher before the draft.” He shrugged like the information was no big deal, but to you it was everything.

“Professor Barnes. Kind of sexy.”

“Oh, shut up.” But his words held no malice. Instead, he was grinning that cheeky grin that pulled his cheeks into perfect rosy apples and his eyes crinkled in joy. “I wanted to have ten kids.”

“Ten?!”

“So we’d be a dozen. My own little army of mini-Buckys to take over the world. Couple sets of twins, maybe. Definitely as many girls as I could manage.”

Of course Bucky would be a girl-dad. Playing dress-up for fake tea parties and scaring off boys when they’d come ‘round for first dates. You could imagine how he’d learn how to take care of their hair and plait intricate braids when they asked. He would make breakfast for the whole bunch, kiss his wife goodbye before escorting them to the bus stop and taking off for a day of teaching classes. Bucky would be an amazing father.

An amazing husband, too.

“I think ten may be pushing it, Barnes.”

Bucky pictured it, too. A little more modern than maybe the image you conjured up. Teaching was replaced with small missions. The gaggle of kids were smaller, and he wouldn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye. You’d be in the car next to him, headed to the tower for your morning briefings together.

“I’ll settle for nine.”

Benign

If you were to ask any New Yorker what they think the Avengers do on Friday afternoons, they would probably say something like ‘kicking ass!’. None would get even close to what your actual routine looked like.

None would imagine The Winter Soldier lounging in a bathrobe, hair knotted into a bun at the top of his head as his fellow world-saving Avenger spread some green goop over his face. Chinese takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table, his feet were bubbling in warm foot spa.

“To keep your youthful complexion!” You had promised him. He didn’t comment on the obvious sound of your phone’s camera clicking.

He knew he must have looked completely ridiculous. But as you sunk into the couch next to him with identical spa treatments covering you, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

He never thought in a million years that he would have the chance of boring, completely benign afternoons. He thought he would be sidelined to violent missions for the rest of his life, to being thawed out like a microwave meal every time he was deemed useful. Sure, he felt a bit ridiculous when you reached over to adjust the slices of cucumber placed over his eyelids, but he also felt so relaxed.

As you settled even closer to him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder, he would happily take the teasing remarks from Sam when you showed him the pictures.

Homecoming

Peter wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting ready for his senior year homecoming dance at the tower. But Aunt May was upstate on vacation with Happy and he still didn’t know how to tie a tie.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Peter!” You gushed as your fingers worked on his tie. Bucky stood to the side, holding MJ’s corsage in a delicate plastic container. Peter had been careful to find the perfect color, with a little guidance from you. The white dahlias matched perfectly with Peter’s light green tie.

“Thanks, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Peter, ever the polite kid.

“Be safe, kid. Have her home at a reasonable time and no wandering hands.” Bucky handed over the corsage with a supportive slap to Peter’s shoulder. He was quick to promise that he would follow all the rules before making a dash to the door, just as you were about to ask for pictures.

“Don’t wait up!” He called as the elevator dinged behind him.

“They grow up so fast.” You sniffled. “I didn’t even go to my homecoming dances.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever asked me.” You shrugged, collecting the other ties Peter had picked from and hanging them carefully over your arm. Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was taking one of his priceless Versace neckties to a homecoming dance.

“To be fair, I would’ve been scared shitless to ask you to a dance.” Bucky followed close behind. “And I fought a war.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.” You brushed him off as you retreated into Tony’s closet.

“No, really.” His hand caught your elbow. “I would’ve been the luckiest guy in town if I had you on my arm.”

You fell asleep that night imagining you and Bucky twirling around a dance hall without a care in the world.

One

Steve’s hand was firm against your shoulder, his tactical glove soaked and dripping with your blood. Your eyes were unfocused, head lulling every so often when the fight to keep it steady just seemed too difficult. Sam was at your other side, cracking jokes to try to keep your attention on him and not of the literal bullet lodged in your shoulder.

You were escorted from the jet in a flurry, doctor’s hands replacing Steve’s. You barely winced when you were administered painkillers and the ache begun to subside. Before you could blink, you were lifted onto a gurney in the medical bay and the clink of the bullet that had been dug from your flesh rang through the room as it clattered into a metal dish.

Bucky ran in just as the doctor finished maneuvering a long roll of gaze around your shoulder, scheduling a time for you to return to have it cleaned and reapplied again.

“What happened?” He brushed past the doctor without a second glance, eyes trained on your figure pressed against the sterile hospital bed. “Steve said-”

“It’s nothing. Steve likes to be dramatic.”

“-that you were shot!”

“Oh, well. Yeah, that happened.” You moved to sit up, your arm immediately giving out under the weight. Bucky moved even closer to help you, hand careful on your back like you were made of glass. “But just the one time.”

“As far as I’m concerned, one is too many.” He watched the gauze turn darker against your skin; your eyes screwed shut in pain as your knuckles turned white against the sheets. “And you’re never going on a mission without me again.”

Freight Car

“You’re free.”

He remembers those worlds so clearly, it’s like him and Ayo are still sat next to that crackling fire in Wakanda. He thought that had been it. He would never again worry about those ten phrases that erased Bucky Barnes and allowed a machine to emerge from his memory.

As he stole glances of you from the corner of his eye, shadowed by his unruly hair, he knew those words still very much existed in his mind.

They weren’t a means to an end, anymore. He didn’t have to grit his teeth and clench his fists to fight them off. They were new, now. He saw each of those words in you and realized just how important they are now they they’ve found a new meaning.

His love for you came easy.

One second, he was looking at his friend. She was looking back at him and he felt safe.

Your fingers brushed over his shoulder, where flesh turned to metal, and you looked away as though you hadn’t just made him fall in love with you with a single touch.

It took three years for Bucky to make a move. Another party, another escape plan to the balcony where you were waiting for him, like always. The last time you had found yourselves in that position, he had been too unsure. Too wary of what it would mean and if it was too soon.

Now, he didn’t care. He just wanted you and to be selfish and not think about consequences when he leaned forward and finally pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled back, but not far.

Something clicked.

Your love for him hit you like a freight car. Swooping in from nowhere but really, you should have felt the rattling of the tracks beneath your feet. You should have seen all the signs that you loved him and he loved you back. In stolen glances and easy afternoons, in hard missions and bloodshed. He was there, and he looked at you like that. Like everything his body had done was to finally make it to you in this moment.

He waited, patient. He had waited this long, what was another few seconds as the realization washed over your features?

“Oh.” Was your clever whisper.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hands cradled your face, “Took you long enough.”

taglist: @bibliophilewednesday @teti-menchon0604​ @thiswasnevermylifefromtony​ @spid3rgwen​ @beautyandthebleh​ @victoriabaker112213​ @orthellqs @phasma-trash​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/reader #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #sab writes

[berrynarrybanana]

Me and You Together

A/N: Hello! I would like to say first of all that ^ is not my gif. I had it saved on my computer from somewhere and it just felt perfect for this. I do love my little sweet pea and frat boy Harry, but I also feel like I’ve done them dirty in this fic. I wanted to add more angst, but we all know I’m shit at that kind of stuff bc I’m soft at heart. Anywho, I really hope that you enjoy this and I just want to thank the lovely @stellarboystyles​ for putting together this little fic challenge. Congrats on 3 years babe! I hope that you like this story and that I have done this celebratory moment justice! 

Word Count: 11.9 k 

Warnings: Alcohol, smut, pining, Louis being a dickhead, a mean roommate

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers with Frat Boy Harry 

Prompt: “Just sit on my fingers. Yeah, just like that.” (this is all the way at the end tbh, just a heads up lol) 

P.s I know nothing about frat’s honestly and I just tried to avoid that the best that I could but fratboy!h lives in my mind rent free and I wanted to write it so....yeah.

September

Piper’s POV 

I rolled my head back on my neck, looking up at the ceiling as my roommate sighed. 

“Has anyone told you that you’re a selfish bitch?” Carli asked, her perfectly manicured nail resting on the cheap, wooden door of our dorm room. “I’m trying to unwind and relax after an extremely hard week and you’re ruining it for me.” 

“I live here too!” I felt my brows pull together in frustration as I adjusted my bag on my sore shoulders, shifting from foot to foot. “The least you can let me do is come in and change before you start fucking.”

“You’re killing my mood!” She groaned, holding her hand out. “Give me your fucking bag and tell me what you need.” 

“Carli-”

“Tell me what you need or I’m shutting this door in your face, I swear to god.” She snapped, her brows arching up as she wiggled her fingers at me. “You have five seconds.” 

“Fine!” I said, shrugging my bag off my tired shoulders. “I need my purse, a black t-shirt, and a jacket.” 

“Great.” 

She slammed the door in my face, flicking the lock as I brushed my hands over my face angrily. 

College was not supposed to be like this. 

The next four years of my life were meant to be spent making new friends and partaking in fun activities on campus. So far, the only person I knew was Carli and she most definitely hated my guts with a burning passion. I wasn’t sure why she hated me so much when I mainly kept to myself, hunched over my desk with headphones on for most of the night when I studied. I hardly ever talked to Carli besides the odd argument about my typing being too loud and my presence being too...obvious. I hated every second of college so far and this wasn’t helping me at all. 

I was moments away from having a breakdown, the build up creeping up my throat as I stood there in the hall, waiting for Carli as everyone else stared at my back. I tried not to let their prying eyes bother me, but I could feel the hairs standing up on the back of my neck as I crossed my arms over my chest. I tried to distract my mind, thinking about where I was going to go while Carli got her rocks off in our shared room. Maybe the library? Maybe a cafe?

Just as I started listing off cafes in my head, the door opened just a crack. 

“Here’s your stuff, don’t come home before midnight.” She stuck a hand out, her voice muffled by the door. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my things from her hands. “Bye, Pippi!”

“It’s Piper, you unbearable asshole.” I sighed, holding my stuff close to my chest as frustrated tears started to accumulate behind my eyes. “I hope you don’t have an orgasm.” 

I turned on my heels, ready to storm towards the communal bathroom so I could change and collect myself before leaving. I only made it halfway down the hall when I heard someone shouting behind me. I wasn’t sure they were actually calling out for me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stopped in my tracks, sniffling as I reached up to wipe at my cheeks. 

“Piper, hold on.” The girl who was calling my name stepped in front of me, letting out a shuddery breath. She only had eyeshadow on one of her perfectly shaped eyes and a makeup brush in her hand as she stopped. “I just wanted to say that I am so sorry your roommate just did that to you. You can use my room to change if you’d like? I know the communal bathroom doesn’t always offer the most privacy and my roommate is never home. I’ll stand outside and everything!” 

“You don’t have to do that.” I sniffled before offering her a forced smile. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with teasing right now. “But thank you.” 

“I insist.” Her brown eyes looked softer as she spoke, her hand falling to her side. “My name is Eleanor. I think we have Modern English together.” 

“Piper.” I said. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I don’t mind it at all, babes.” 

Eleanor left me in her room to get dressed, politely standing outside as I collected myself. 

I took a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself as I stripped out of the blouse I had been wearing all day. I pulled my black t-shirt on, huffing when I realized that this wasn’t the one I actually needed. This one was meant for darker jeans and a pair of heeled boots. This top was meant for parties and bars, not a cafe. The criss crossed pattern was far too fancy for a late night cup of coffee and a lonely piece of cheesecake. 

When I opened the door, my old shirt bundled up in my hand, I smiled at Eleanor. 

She looked over my outfit, her eyes growing wide. 

“You look great!” She said. “Do you have plans tonight?” 

“I was just gonna go to Fitz and Co for coffee and dessert.” I gave her a nervous chuckle, clutching my old shirt in my hands. “Probably going to wander around campus after to kill time.” 

“Don’t take offense,” She gave me a sweet smile, her accent growing thicker with each word she spoke. I hadn’t noticed it all that much before when my emotions were on overdrive and my mind was swirling with anger. “But that sounds absolutely dreadful and you deserve to have a little bit of fun. It’s Friday night for fuck’s sake and we’re in Uni!”

“I don’t really know anyone on campus.” I shrugged. “I’ve not made a ton of friends yet, you know?” 

“I do, actually.” She nodded. “If I had to say, you’re the first person I’ve tried to make conversation with since I’ve been here. I’m going to a party tonight because my boyfriend’s frat is hosting it, and he’ll just text me all night if I don’t go.”

“That sounds like fun.” I said. “Thank you for helping me out and offering me your room. I really hope you have fun tonight."

“Why don’t you come with me?” She asked. “I know frat parties sound horrible after all the stuff you see in films, and a lot of them are pretty shit, but I would love to have a drinking buddy.” 

“I don’t want to impose.” I said. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your boyfriend.”

“Nonsense, he sees me everyday.” She shook her head. “I would love to have someone to chat with that isn’t one of his football friends from back home.” 

“Um, okay.’” I shrugged. “I guess that’s not too horrible and I kind of owe you one.”

“You won’t regret it.” 

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

“So the house shouldn’t be too crowded.” Eleanor pulled her flannel tighter around her body, hunching over as the wind whipped around us. “A few of the guys are still out getting alcohol and people aren’t supposed to start showing up for another hour at least.”

“That’s good.” I nodded. “So why did you decide to come to school here?”

“Louis.” She said. “I couldn’t stomach the idea of being away from Lou and there are so many opportunities in America for both of us. He’s here on a footie scholarship and I’m here on a performing arts scholarship.”

“That’s really cool!” I exclaimed, my eyebrows raising up. “I didn’t peg you for a theatre nerd.”

“Just a tiny one.” She chuckled. “I’m more into the costumes than anything. Fashion has always owned my heart and my Mum took me to so many musicals as a girl. I figured I would combine my love for both and make it my career.”

“I admire that.” I said softly, glancing down at the sidewalk as we turned a corner. “So how long have you and Louis been together?”

“Four years.” She smiled. “We met on a holiday to London one summer and we’ve never let go of each other. Last year we went to the same University for our first year before deciding to come abroad and it was….magical.”

“He sounds lovely.” I said. “He makes you happy?” 

“He does.” She nodded, her lips pursing slightly as she tried to hide her smile. “He’s a proper gentleman, even when he’s being a bit too laddie.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” I chuckled and Eleanor joined in. “What is a laddie? Is that like Lassie, the dog?”

“Not like that dog.” She scrunched up her nose. “I think you call them ‘Bro’s’ over here.” 

“Ah, I do understand then.” 

Eleanor and I continued chatting as we walked down Frat Row. 

The houses were large, but they looked a little plain and rundown. I imagine having a group of rowdy, drunk boys living in a house without supervision didn’t do well for wear and tear on a house. Eleanor told me that the last house on frat row in the cul-de-sac belonged to pretty much the entire footy team with a few odd guys sprinkled in. 

When we arrived, my jaw nearly dropped to the ground. 

I was living in a tiny dorm room and these men were living like kings and a gigantic and modern house that looked brand new. Eleanor laughed as I took in the dark, blue-grey exterior. The shutters and the porch were both painted a dark, charcoal grey. We walked up the stairs and I continued to look around like a kid lost in a candy store. 

Maybe joining a sorority wasn’t a bad move?

“So, that is the living room and just down that first hall is the bathroom. I recommend going upstairs to Louis’ room if you want to use a clean and unoccupied bathroom.” She chuckled. “I’ll show you around upstairs later if you’d like.”

“This is the cleanest Frat house I’ve ever seen in my life.” I said slowly, looking around. “How is it so pristine?”

“A few of the guys are really obsessed with cleanliness and organization.” She chuckled. “Also I spend a lot of time over here, so I do what I can.”

“I would spend all of my time here, too.” I said. “Why are you even in a dorm if you could be here?”

“Rules.” She rolled her eyes. “Technically women aren’t allowed to be housed in a frat, which blows, but I understand it.”

“Well, I’ll pretend to be you and stay in your dorm if you want to fly under the radar and move here.” I teased, patting her shoulder. “It’s a win win for both of us.”

“I might take you up on that.” She giggled, guiding me through an open archway. “This here is the kitchen-”

“Ellie, s’that you!” 

Eleanor flinched at the booming voice from upstairs, her eyes casting up to the ceiling as she grumbled. 

“Bloody hell, these men,” She shot me a sympathetic look and I tried my best not to laugh softly at her annoyance. “Yes, Niall?”

“I need help.” This accent was slightly different than Eleanor’s and it almost reminded me of the guy on the lucky charms commercial. “I don’t know what trousers to wear, should I do these dark jeans or these plaid one’s.”

The voice was closer and closer with each word and suddenly, a half naked man appeared in the doorway, holding two pairs of pants as he looked down at them. He was wearing white boxer briefs and white socks, the rest of his pale and freckled skin on display. I had to admit that he was extremely attractive, chestnut colored hair on top of his head and a soft stomach rounded out with a matching chestnut happy trail dusting under his belly button. 

“Oh, hello.” He looked up, smiling at me with piercing blue eyes and extremely handsome features. I tried not to blush, my eyes glued to his. “Which one’s do ya think I should wear, love? Good to have an outsider’s perspective sometimes.” 

The sound of a door shutting behind us caused my head to snap around. 

This was more of a man standing at the opposite end of the kitchen, his chocolate colored curls framing his face and resting on his broad shoulders as he looked up at me. His face was perfect, adonis like features catching my attention and his bright green eyes causing my breath to catch in my throat. He offered me a small smile, his features soft as he cleared his throat. 

“Hello.” He said softly to me before his eyes darted up, looking behind me. “For fuck’s sake, Niall. Why are you nearly naked!” 

“I needed help!” I turned my head back towards Niall as his brows pulled together, his lips turning to a scowl. “I can’t decide what trousers to wear and Liam is no help!” 

“We have a guest.” The green eyed god spoke from behind me, but I didn’t dare turn my head. I was afraid that if I did, I would be stuck staring at him for the rest of the night. “Don’t be rude.”

I glanced over at Eleanor who lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

I tried, again, not to laugh at her misery. 

“I swear to god, Niall,” She sighed heavily. “The least you could do is introduce yourself to the poor girl before you flash her.”

“M’Niall,” He rolled his eyes, looking over at me. “What’s your name, love?” 

Harry’s POV

“My name is Piper.” 

I stared at the back of her head, trying my best not to think about running my fingers through her soft curls that nearly matched the shade of my own. I inhaled sharply as I pressed my fingertips into the marble countertop below me. I had seen this girl, Piper, around campus before. I saw her flitting from building to building with her head tilted down and her headphones tucked in her cute little ears. I had a huge crush on this girl and now she was standing in my kitchen with my half-naked roommate and my best friend’s girl. 

This wasn’t a good thing at all.

“S’nice to meet you, Piper.” Niall winked at her and I rolled my eyes, shooting him a glare over the girls head. 

His brows furrowed and I gave him a pointed look before mouthing, ‘That’s the girl’.

Niall’s brows lifted up and he shot me a cheeky grin. 

He was the only one I confided in about my girl troubles. 

He knew all about the mystery girl that I passed by every day on my way to physics class and he had suggested to me several times that bumping into her was the best way to catch her attention. I declined, rolling my eyes at his childish suggestion. I had to admit though, if she had been in my class, I would have tossed paper at the back of her head to get her attention. 

It was a trick that never failed. 

“Well, I’m gonna go get dressed then.” He cleared his throat, glancing over at Eleanor. “Lou is stuck on the phone with his Mum, babe. I think he might need some rescuing if he’s going to join the party at all tonight.”

“Oh,” Eleanor stood straighter, glancing over at Piper. “I don’t want to leave Piper-”

“I can stay with her.” I cleared my throat, reaching up to fiddle with my hair as both girls turned to look at me. “I’ve finished my part of party prep, so I don’t mind.”

“Harry, I don’t know.” Eleanor said. “I’m already afraid Niall’s neon white body is going to scare her off. I don’t need you turning on your Cheshire Charm.”

“Oi, I resent that.” I narrowed my eyes at her playfully, trying to fight off my smile as she chuckled. “I won’t be turning on any charm tonight, love. I’ve got a big match to play tomorrow, remember? Gotta save my strength and energy if I wanna do well.”

“Alright, fine.” Eleanor sighed, turning back to Piper. “Are you okay if I disappear for a few minutes? I promise I’ll be right back.” 

“It’s fine.” Piper smiled at Eleanor, gently nodding her head. “Please, go ahead. I don’t mind waiting down here.”

“You’re sure?” Eleanor asked, her face laced with concern. 

“Positive.” Piper glanced over at me. “I think I’m in good hands with ol’ Cheshire Charm back there.” 

My smile was so wide that it hurt my cheeks. 

She was funny and gorgeous.

Eleanor glanced between the two of us before saying a quick ‘be right back’.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Piper turned around, her hands pressing against the countertop as Niall wiggled his brows behind us. He disappeared behind Eleanor moments later, leaving Piper and I alone in the kitchen. “Would you like a Whiteclaw?”

“Oh, sure.” She nodded, her eyes dropping down to her hands. “I would love one.”

“You seem a bit nervous.” I said, walking towards the fridge. “Do you have a flavor preference?”

“No.” She said softly. “And yeah, I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ve had a pretty tough day and I wasn’t exactly prepared to come to a frat party.”

“Why are you here then?” I asked, my eyes scanning the shelves until I landed on the one filled with canned drinks. I reached for two lime flavored cocktails, pulling them out before I shut the door with my hip. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

“Um, Eleanor extended the invitation and I kind of owed her one.” Piper smiled, taking the drink with a soft ‘thank you’. “My roommate is a bit of a dickhead and she kicked me out so she could get laid. Eleanor saw me in the hallway on the verge of a mental breakdown and we just...hit it off, I guess.”

“Sorry your roommate was a dickhead.” I smiled, letting my eyes roam over the soft features of her face. “I’m glad you and El hit it off though. It’s nice to have a new face around here.”

I let my eyes trail over the features of her face now that she was up close and personal. 

Her eyes were hazel, a soft golden hue to her irises. Her brows were thick and wild, but perfectly shaped. There were soft freckles peeking out from under her foundation and her cheeks were a soft shade of red. Her nose was soft and rounded at the end and I couldn’t help but think of hovering over her, brushing my own nose against hers as I thrust into her. 

I hated being a man sometimes. 

She was a beautiful girl and even in my head she deserved better than to be thought of that way. She was more than just a sexual object and she didn’t need some creepy frat guy thinking dirty thoughts about her only moments after meeting her. I cleared my throat, reaching for my drink. I took a long sip as she raised her brows, offering me a sly smirk as she sipped at her own drink. 

“Eleanor is a really sweet girl.” I rested my can on the marble countertop. “She’s been having trouble making friends over here, so it’s nice that she’s found someone to hang out with besides us.” 

“I really like her.” Piper said softly. “I’ve been having trouble making friends, too. I’m not really the best at putting myself out there, you know?”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” I flashed her a reassuring smile, noticing how her cheeks turned a shade darker. “I don’t think I’ve fully introduced myself, love. I’m Harry.”

“I’m Piper.” She held her hand out and I took it, giving it a soft shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” 

Her skin was so bloody soft, her hands a little cold and damp from the can she was holding. 

“You too.” I said. “If you need anything tonight, please don’t hesitate to find me. I know how overwhelming these parties can be and I’ll be happy to keep you company or walk you out for some fresh air if you need it.” 

“Thank you.” She said softly. “The same goes for you. If you need any company tonight, I’m your girl.” 

Just like that, my mind was back in the gutter. 

All I could hear in my head was the echoes of her sweet moans, her voice chanting over and over again ‘M’your girl, Harry. Yours’. I cleared my throat, giving her a tight smile as I tried to avoid thinking about her tucked in my sheets, writhing and gasping as I licked into her. 

I was so totally fucked.

                                        🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

“Piper, babe,” I laughed, holding her hips tightly as she swayed. “I think we should sit you down for a minute, yeah?”

“If I sit, I’ll sleep.” She whined, looking up at me with her sweet puppy dog eyes. “Where did Eleanor go?” 

“Eleanor is going upstairs with Louis.” I said softly, digging my fingers into the fleshy skin above the waistband of her jeans. “Do you want me to take you home?”

She pursed her lips, shaking her head as she pressed her hands into my shoulders. 

I knew exactly how we’d gotten here. 

The party was still going strong around us, people dancing and shouting as Piper swayed in front of me. I wanted so badly to brush her hair from her face and stroke the soft skin of her cheek, but I would never do something like that when she was this off her face. Holding onto her hips was already too intimate for my liking, but I was afraid she would topple over without some form of support. She swayed forward, her eyes face pinching up ever so slightly before she pressed one hand to her forehead. I frowned, pulling her closer as a group of guys rushed by.

If Niall hadn’t suggested we play four drinking games in a row, Piper and Eleanor might not have been off their faces within the first two hours of the party. I had to admit that I didn’t exactly mind taking care of Piper. She was a funny drunk, silly puns and snide comments slipping from her lips carelessly as she leaned against me. It was when her eyes started to drift shut and her body started to sway, that I started to worry about her. I pulled her into the kitchen alongside a giggly Eleanor, handing them both bottles of water while I quickly cooked up some pizza rolls that Niall had hidden in the freezer. Both girls ate between loud laughs, knocking into each other as I watched them with a small smile on my face.

 Seeing Eleanor happy made me happy, but seeing her happy with the girl of my dreams made me feel like I was on cloud nine. 

“Mate,” Louis’ hand clapped down on my shoulder and I turned my head as Piper’s body fell into mine. “I can take her off your hands. El told me they live in the same halls-”

“She can barely stand on her own, Lou.” I shook my head, glancing down as she rested her head on my shoulder. “Gonna go put her to bed in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch after everyone is gone.”

“Lock the door if you leave her up there.” Louis said. “I’m going back up to El in a minute, but I figured I should get some painkillers and water for the morning.”

“Bring some up for Piper?” I asked him. “I probably won’t leave her alone in there, knowing all of these jackasses are around.”

“Tell me about it.” Louis snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be up in five.”

I nodded, watching him disappear through the crowd of people in our living room. 

“Hey, love,” I said softly. “Gonna take you upstairs and tuck you in, okay?”

“Kay.” She mumbled, turning her head until her nose brushed against the column of my neck. 

I made a mental note to have a talk with her tomorrow about going places with strangers when she was drunk. I knew that I meant no harm, but we were still getting to know each other. It set off a level of worry that I only ever felt when it came to my Mum or Sister. It was almost a primal need to protect, my arms winding tightly around her as I guided her to the stairs. 

It was no easy feat to get her up the staircase, but when we finally made it to my room, she snapped into a more alert mode. She looked up, her tired eyes growing as wide as they could before she brushed some of her hair out of her face. She looked up at me, her eyes searching my face as I pressed my hand lightly to her lower back. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Harry.” She said softly. “I’m really sorry I’m ruining your fun.” 

“Nonsense, love.” I shook my head. “S’just another party, there will be plenty more.” 

“Still.” She mumbled. “I don’t want to take your bed. Sleeping on the couch is bad for your back and I overheard that you have a match tomorrow.”

“S’alright.” I said. “I’ve slept on a floor before a match and still kicked ass, Piper. I don’t mind giving my bed up for a good cause.”

She let out an aggravated sigh, rolling her eyes at me. 

I tried not to smile as she grumbled under her breath, reaching for the doorknob to my bedroom door. I followed in behind her, flicking the light switch on before I shut the door behind me. Piper staggered a little and I hovered, my hands waiting to catch her should she fall. Instead, she stumbled over to my bed on bambi like legs, collapsing on the foot with a soft groan. 

“You need some help?” I asked her as she lifted her leg, struggling with her shoe. She merely waved her hand at me, shaking her head. “You want something comfy to change into? I’ve got sweats, shorts-”

“Sweats sound lovely.” She mumbled, a soft ‘aha’ falling from her lips as she finally tugged the shoelace of her boot out of a knot. “You’re a true gentleman, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“My Mum.” I chuckled, walking over to my dresser in search of comfy clothes. 

“S’good,” Piper sighed out as her boot hit the floor. “Hard to find a proper gentleman these days, Harry. I think Jude Law was the last of them.”

“I won’t argue with you there.” I shook my head, trying to contain my laughter as I sifted through my sweatpants. I settled on my favorite pair, the light grey fabric soft and worn. “Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in or a long sleeve shirt?”

“Um, t-shirt.” She mumbled. “Your room is lovely. Did you do all of the decorating yourself?”

“I did, yeah.” I nodded. “Brought a few key things from home, but I spent most of my money in Target when I got here.” 

“Amen to that.” She hiccuped softly. “I like your record player. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“One day you’ll have to come up and listen to some records with me.” I glanced at her over my shoulder, noting how the corners of her lips ticked up into a girlish grin. “What kind of music do you like?”

“All of it.” She said simply, her voice trailing off. “I’ve always been a fan of classical music for studying. My mom calls me a psychopath.”

“They are known for indulging in the genre.” I snorted, pulling out a white t-shirt before I turned around. “I think that’s lovely, though. I’ve heard some good stuff from Bach in my music theory class and I have to say, it makes for good studying music.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She said. “I love me some cello, mate.”

“Look at that.” I hummed out, holding the clothes out to her. “Got you talking like a proper brit now, don’t we. Didn’t even know what footy was at the start of the night.” 

“Piss off.” She grumbled, trying to hide her amusement as she mocked my accent. 

“I’m gonna run to Louis' room while you get dressed, okay?” I said. “Gonna steal you some makeup wipes from El’s overnight bag so we can take your makeup off. I want you to lock the door and don’t open it for anyone besides me. I don’t care if it’s Niall or god himself, alright?”

“Alright.” She whispered softly. “You’re really fucking nice, Harry.”

I tried to resist the urge to brush my knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek, but I couldn’t. 

I inhaled sharply as she closed her eyes, leaning into my touch with a soft hum. 

“I’ll be right back.” I said softly. “Lock the door.”

                                        🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Piper’s POV 

Falling in love with Harry took me all of five minutes. 

I decided that it was physically impossible not to love someone so perfect. He was a real gentleman, keeping his hands in respectful spots even when I was falling all over him, drunk off my ass. I felt a little guilty about being so touchy-feely with someone I hardly knew, but I was comfortable around him from the start. He stood by my side for most of the night, talking with Eleanor and I as we tossed shots back like water. 

I stood up from the foot of his bed, fiddling with the button on my pants. My vision was most definitely blurry and my fingers were shaking as I swayed on my feet, but I managed to pull the button from the loop before I shoved my pants down my legs. It took a bit of wiggling to get my ass settled into Harry’s sweats, an article of clothing clearly meant for a man with no….assets. 

With a soft hiccup, I worked on my shirt, tossing it to the ground before I reached behind me to take off my bra. My drunk brain didn’t care about etiquette or embarrassment anymore. That all flew out the window with my third shot of tequila that Niall handed over. When I settled the fabric of Harry’s shirt over my tired limbs, I heard a soft knock at the door. 

I stumbled over, pressing my ear against the wood to hear who was there. I was plastered, yeah, but I remembered Harry’s speech about not opening the door for anyone. 

“Who is it?” I called out, my voice breaking just a little. 

“S’me.” I heard Harry’s gruff voice. “S’Harry.” 

I flicked the lock on the door, opening it up with a soft smile. 

Harry held up some makeup wipes and a bottle of water, flashing me a cheesy grin. I laughed, shutting the door and flicking the lock behind him again as he walked into his room. When I turned around, my arms crossed over my chest, he was looking at my body with soft eyes. 

“Everything feel comfy enough to sleep in?” He asked. 

“Yeah, thanks.” I nodded. 

“Alright.” He nodded, looking up at me with glassy jade eyes. “Let’s get you tucked in, shall we?”

I smiled, walking over to his bed. 

I picked the side farthest from the door and closest to the window. 

Harry pulled back the covers, waiting for me to climb in before he rested them over my legs. He set the bottle of water on the bedside table, two painkillers falling to the wood next to the plastic bottle. He sat down next to my legs, ripping into the makeup wipes with ease. I watched him pluck a sheet out before closing the pack back up, tossing it to the nightstand with the other items. I rolled my lips in as he turned towards me, holding the cloth out. 

“Do you want me to do it?” He asked. “Just so you know it’s all gone?” 

“Yes, please.” I nodded. 

I could take my makeup off in my sleep. 

I’d done it before, actually. 

But there was something about being doted on by Harry that I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. 

I preened as he wiped the cloth over my skin with gentle strokes, swiping away concealer and highlighter with ease. I let my eyes slip shut when he asked, his index finger gently brushing at the small bit of liquid liner and shimmery shadow on my lids. When it got to my lips, he did a few quick dabs before his touch was gone from my face all together. 

“All clean.” He smiled, tossing the wipe towards the bin in the corner of the room. “Alright, I’m going to tuck you in and turn on a movie. I’ll just be on the floor next to you if you need anything at all. Bathroom is through that door right there.”

“Don’t sleep on the floor.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m okay with sharing a bed with you, Harry. Friends do that all the time, don’t they?”

“But you’re drunk.” He said softly. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable-” 

“I don’t.” I said. “From the moment we met, you’ve made me feel very welcomed and comfortable. I promise that I don’t feel unsafe or pressured in any way, Harry. If you feel more comfortable sleeping on the floor, then I understand, but I’m okay with you sleeping next to me.”

Harry reached up to rustle his long strands of hair, his curls flopping about as he looked at me with a curious gaze. He inhaled sharply, nibbling on his lower lip as I stared back at him with raised brows and an amused grin. 

“I’ll put a pillow wall between us and everything.” I said. “If it makes you feel comfortable.”

“I just don’t want you to wake up in the morning and freak out.” He said softly. “You’ve had a lot to drink and if you don’t remember any of this tomorrow, it might be a little scary to wake up with a strange man in your bed.”

“Well, it’s your bed.” I said softly. “And I’ve been worse off than this and still remembered what happened the night before, Harry. I come from a very small town where drinking is considered a sport. This is a regular Tuesday for me.”

“Alright.” He whispered through a breathy laugh. “But if you change your mind at any point through the night, feel free to kick me out of bed.”

“I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “Get ready for bed, yeah? You’ve got a big day tomorrow and I can’t have you losing a match because of me. People will think I’m bad luck.”

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Harry’s POV 

When I woke up in the middle of the night, our pillow wall was gone. 

Piper’s cheek was pressed into her pillow, soft puffs of air escaping her parted lips as she tightened her grip on my shirt. Her hand was resting on my tummy and her foot was hooked over my calf muscle, but she remained on her side of the bed. I lay there for a minute, watching her peaceful face as she slept. I tried to commit her features to memory, my heart squeezing in my chest as she shuffled around a bit. I rested my hand over hers, softly brushing my fingers over her knuckles as her body moved just a little closer to mine. 

The dry feeling in my mouth pulled me from my peaceful moment, urging me to go downstairs for my own bottle of water. It was silent in the house, no more music pumping through the speakers downstairs, and I felt safe enough to leave Piper on her own in my room without the doors locked. I would only be gone for a few minutes at the most, running down for water before I ran back up to curl back up next to the sleeping girl in my bed. 

When I made it downstairs, Louis was already in the kitchen.

“Hey,” I grumbled, walking over to the fridge. “What are you doing up?”

“Same as you.” He said. “Thirsty.”

“Hmm.” I nodded. “Eleanor still knocked out cold?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Love that girl to death, but she snores like a bloody chainsaw.”

“That she does.” I laughed, pulling a water bottle out. “I’m glad she’s got Piper as a friend. It was nice to see her unwind tonight.”

“It was.” Louis nodded, pressing his hip into the countertop. “Piper likes you.”

I nearly choked on my water as Louis looked up at me. 

“What?” I asked. “How on earth-” 

“It’s obvious, mate.” Louis rolled his eyes, an amused grin on his lips. “She’s got a bit of a crush on you, but what girl doesn’t?”

“Lou-” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing. “Why do I feel like you’re about to give me a speech.”

“It would break my heart if Eleanor lost her as a friend, Harry.” Louis said softly. “She doesn’t have anyone over here and I at least have you and Niall, you know? If she lost Piper because you two decided to fool around and things ended badly-”

“That’s not what this is.” I said quickly. “And I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to say, either. I would never hurt Piper, or anyone, on purpose. She’s a very sweet girl and it just so happens that I’ve liked her for a while.”

“You know each other, then?” Louis brows arched up and I sighed. “Wasn’t aware.” 

“We don’t know each other, but I’ve seen her around campus.” I mumbled. “Always had my eyes on her, Lou. She’s fucking gorgeous.”

“Harry,” Louis said softly. “I’m asking you as a friend, please don’t get involved.” 

“That’s a shitty thing to ask.” My voice was hoarse. “It’s late and we’re both still pissed. I’m going to bed.” 

“Just think about it.” He said, knocking his knuckles against the countertop. 

Lucky for Louis, it was all I could think about for the rest of the night.

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Piper’s POV 

When I woke up the next morning, I could feel Harry’s heartbeat against my cheek.

The annoying beeping of his alarm had me groaning and turning my face into his chest. I heard him mutter a soft series of ‘sorry’s’ before it turned off. Harry’s arm draped over my back, holding me against his chest as I closed my eyes again. I let out a soft hum as he brushed his fingers up and down my back, his chest rising and falling slowly under my head. 

“I see that we’ve lost the pillow wall.” Harry’s voice was deep and raspy, causing a shiver to run up my spine. 

“Sorry.” I whispered, lifting my head up as I pressed my palm to his chest. “I guess I tossed it aside in the middle of the night.” 

“You did.” He chuckled softly. “You pushed it down with your feet and then you pulled it out and chucked it because you were trying to get comfortable.” 

“You watched me?” I asked, blinking a few times to try and focus my vision as I rested my chin on the back of my hand.

“I felt you flopping around like a fish out of water and I had to check on you.” He said slowly, his own eyes still shut. “I fell back asleep and when I woke up for a wee you were snuggled so tightly against me that I could barely pry you off.”

“I didn’t know that I was a cuddler.” I mumbled softly. “I’ve never really slept in a bed with anyone else before.”

“Well, you can tick that box off of your bucket list.” He smiled, his fingers still brushing over my back as I looked down at him. “You staring at me?” 

“A little.” I confessed, a small smile creeping up on my lips. “Think you’re pretty.”

“Love,” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Easy.”

“What?” I asked, dropping my head back to his chest. “Why can’t I say you're pretty? We spent the night together, I’m allowed to compliment you a little.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to flirt with me?” He cleared his throat, shifting around under me. I groaned, falling back to the pillow next to him. “Do friends flirt?”

Friends.

I should have known better. 

There was no way on earth someone like Harry would want to be with someone like me.

“Friends can call each other pretty.” I said dejectedly, turning on my side. “And friends can cuddle, too.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you’re an amazing cuddler.” He said softly, pressing his palm to my bicep as he leaned over to kiss my temple. “You’re welcome to sleep more if you’d like, but I would love to take you out to breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” I turned my head, looking at him with furrowed brows. “I thought you had a match this morning?”

“I’ve got a few hours.” He rested his body next to mine, his head falling on the pillow next to mine lazily. “Eleanor will be at the match.”

“I know.” I whispered. 

“You should sit with her.” Harry smiled. “I would like that.”

“Okay.” I said softly as he snaked his arm underneath my own, curling it around my middle. I tried to fight off a smile. “Thought we were getting up?”

“Few more minutes.” He mumbled. “You smell nice. S’that your perfume or your shampoo?”

“Probably both.” I smiled, resting my palm over his forearm. “Both sweet pea scented.”

“Piper.” He mused. “Sweet pea.”

“What are you mumbling about?” I asked, trying to contain my giggles at his sleepy rambling. 

“Gonna call you sweet pea.” He mumbled. “Because your name starts with a P and you’re so sweet.” 

Fuck being friends. 

I liked this boy.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach. 

I was truly fucked.

                                           ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

December

Piper’s POV 

There were only a few seconds left in the match and our boys were killing it. 

Eleanor gripped my hand tighter as Louis shouted to Niall across the field. Seconds later, he was kicking the ball with the side of his foot. Harry was much closer to the goal, ready to land the winning kick into the goal. I looked at him, his chest heaving and his hairline coated in a thin sheen of sweat. His face was intense and it made my thighs clench ever so slightly to see him so serious. He was always so attractive in the middle of a game, his brows pulled together and his lips pinched tightly together. I loved watching him pull his hair up before a game, twisting the long strands around before he tossed it up in a bun on top of his head. 

“He’s got this.” I said. “Come on, Lou!”

“He’s gonna pass to Harry.” She shook her head. “He has to, babe. He’ll miss from back there.”

“They have five fucking seconds.” We always got a bit snippy during games, but never at each other. “It better be a flawless fucking pass.”

Louis passed the black and white checked ball to Harry with a swift kick and I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen. Harry pushed a guy on the opposing team gently with his shoulder, sliding low until his foot collided with the ball. Just as the last second ticked down, it collided with the net behind the goal and Harry collapsed on his back as players rushed around him. 

Everyone cheered loudly, Eleanor jumping up with a loud cheer alongside the crowd. I could barely move, my heart thumping so loudly that it was all I could hear. I watched Harry’s back flat on the ground, my eyes watering as he continued to stay still. When I saw him sit up, shaking his head, I finally took a deep breath. Moments later, Louis and Niall were lifting him up on their shoulders. 

“Thank, fuck.” I whispered, standing up next to Eleanor as I clapped. 

Harry’s eyes flitted to the stands, landing on mine with a wide grin. 

He was covered in mud and dirt, but he was fine. 

Eleanor grabbed my hand, guiding me down towards the field. 

She was quick to launch on Louis when her feet hit the grass and Niall was quick to run over and scoop me up. I patted him on the back, laughing as he shook me around in his arms. 

“We won!” He cheered. “We bloody won!” 

“I know!” I chuckled, brushing my hand over the back of his head. “I’m proud of you, Ni.”

He put me on my feet, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he turned around to Harry. He grabbed his best mate by the face, kissing his forehead before he ran off shouting something that was terribly hard to make out. I rolled my eyes, steadying myself on my feet. Harry walked over to me, holding his arms out with that same wide and cheeky grin on his lips. 

“Come give your best mate a hug,” He said. “Gotta thank my good luck charm.”

“Harry, no.” I said, holding my hands up. “You’re covered in mud and grass and- Harry!” 

I squealed, taking off on the grass as Harry chased me. 

I dodged a few members of the opposing team, apologizing profusely. 

It didn’t take very long for Harry to wrap his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. 

“I deserve a bloody hug, sweet pea.” He squeezed me tight. “I won!”

“I know, but you’re gross.” I groaned, dropping my head back. “You get to shower before we go to lunch and I don’t.” 

“You could always join.” He whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Know you’ve been dying to see me naked, haven’t ya pea?”

“I will elbow you.” I grumbled, spinning around in his arms. “Don’t be a prick.”

“Just like watching you blush, Piper.” He reached over, pinching my cheek softly. “Where are we going for lunch today?” 

“Where do we always go for lunch?” I rolled my eyes. “Go on, get cleaned up so we can go.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighed. “I’ll see you in ten?”

“I’ll be here.”

I walked back over to Eleanor and Louis, my mind stuck on Harry’s cheeky comment. 

I hated when he did stuff like that. 

He was always toying with my emotions, pulling me to and fro like I didn’t have any feelings at all. He knew that I had a crush on him and he knew that it sucked for me to be so close, but I had the power to stop it at any time. The truth was that I couldn’t stomach the thought of being away from him like that. I wanted him in my life, no matter how I could have him. I walked towards Eleanor with a heavy sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as she kissed Louis deeply. 

Being around a couple constantly was torture when you weren’t apart of one yourself. Especially when the person you wanted to be a couple with was always around anyways. When the pair were done kissing, Louis ran off towards the stadium to take a shower in the locker room. Eleanor smiled over at me and I gave her a blank stare, my lips turning down. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

“He’s done it again!” I tossed my hands up. “He was all ‘you should come shower with me, I know you want to see me naked’. Isn’t he the one who keeps insisting we should just be friends?” 

“He’s an idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that he keeps doing this and I hate that you won’t let me talk to him about it.”

“I don’t want to come between you and an old friend, El.” I shook my head. “He’ll grow up eventually, I guess. If he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have to start moving on.”

“I think you two would be so perfect for each other, babe.” She sighed. “I don’t know what his deal is!”

“Has Louis said anything?” I ask softly. “I don’t want to pry but-”

“Not a word.” She said, her sympathetic grin causing my heart to sink. “He spends all of his time with you and we both know that he’s into you, but something is holding him back.”

“Yeah.” I grimaced. “I like him so much, El.”

“I know.” She frowned. “I wish I could smack some sense into that thick skull of his. I mean, men can be so daft and then they say we’re the complicated ones!”

“I know!” I exclaimed. “Anyways, you and Lou are still coming to lunch with us, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Louis is dying for a turkey apple sandwich.”

“That does sound good.” I hummed out. “I was thinking about soup, though, it’s freezing out here.”

“Oh, soup.” She groaned out. “That’s perfect,”

                                                        ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

Harry’s Pov

I wrapped my towel around my waist, letting out a heavy sigh as I turned the faucet off. 

I hated what I was doing to Piper. 

My sweet pea.

I couldn’t help but rile her up like that, watching her face flush red as I whispered in her ear. 

Part of me was certain that I was riling her up so that she would make the first move. If that was the case, maybe Louis would realize that our feelings for each other were real. 

“Mate,” Louis said. “What was that on the field?” 

“What do you mean?” I asked, my brows furrowing as I walked up to my locker. “We won, Lou.”

“I meant when you were chasing Piper.” He said. “That was flirting, Harry.”

I snapped my mouth shut. 

If he heard the things that passed between Piper and I when we were alone, he’d be livid. 

It was borderline verbal sex with us sometimes, the tension so thick that it had her clamping her legs shut and me shifting in my seat. 

“Was just teasing her, Lou.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not getting onto Niall for picking her up and kissing her face.”

“Niall means no harm.”

“And neither do I.” I shot him a glare. “Mind your mouth.”

“Why her, Harry?” He sighed. “You could have any bird or lad on campus and you want her, why?”

“Because she’s Piper.” I turned towards him. “She’s the one that I want, okay. I can’t tell you why I think about her every moment of the day or why I want to be with her, I just do. I want to be there for her and you’re stupid fucking fear for Eleanor is standing in my way.”

“You can do what you want.” Louis’ jaw tensed. “M’not standing in your fookin’ way, mate.”

“But you are!” I shouted. “You are because you know that I would never do anything to hurt you or El because you’re family to me. You asked me not to do something and I’m being respectful of that because I respect you. I can’t say that you respect me though, because you would never ask this of me if you did. Can’t you see that this is killing me?”

Louis let out a frustrated huff as I turned back to my locker. 

I grabbed my clothes, angrily pulling them on before I ran my towel over the wet strands of my hair. Piper would be pissed to see me pulling at my curls instead of properly scrunching them up with a soft t-shirt, but I couldn’t be arsed to care about that right now. I slammed my locker shut, hiking my bag onto my shoulder before I stormed out of the locker room. When I walked out onto the field, Eleanor and Piper were whispering amongst themselves. 

“I just don’t get it.” Piper let out a sad sigh. “I want-”

“I know, babe!” Eleanor interrupted her with a chipper voice, pressing her hand to Piper’s bicep with a wide smile. “I wish they still had pumpkin spice too, I already miss it.”

“You women and your pumpkin spice.” I grumbled, pressing my hand to Piper’s hip before I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Know you miss it, Pea, but it’s peppermint season now.”

“You’re right.” She gave me a playful pout. “I guess I can survive with that for now.”

“Thatta girl.” I chuckled, pulling my hand back as she reached up to touch my hair. “What?”

“You didn’t scrunch your hair properly, H.” She sighed. “I’ve told you to take better care of these curls! They’re going to be frizzy when they dry.”

I licked over my bottom lip, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss the pout off of her lips. 

“Sweet Pea, I’m sorry.” I said softly. “I was in a little bit of a rush, yeah? Wanted to get my favorite girls to lunch.”

“In that case, I guess I can forgive you.” She mumbled. 

                                                    ☕️☕️☕️☕️

Piper’s POV 

I sipped at my peppermint latte as Harry tossed a french fry into his mouth. 

“So when are you all flying home?” I asked. “Only a few weeks left until Christmas and exams are almost over.”

“El and I are flying out next Friday.” Louis said, smiling over at his girlfriend. “I’m excited to see me Mum and sisters.”

“Me too.” Eleanor nodded. “Missed them all.”

“What about you, H?” I asked. 

“I decided to stay.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to disrupt my schedule mid year, you know? It’ll be hard for me to get back into things come January if I spend an entire three weeks vegging out with Mum and Gem.”

“Oh.” I said softly, my face falling as he cleared his throat. 

He was avoiding something and he was sad about it. 

“I’m not going home either.” I said softly. “Too expensive to fly around the holiday’s, you know? Don’t make nearly enough being a full time fan girl for the footie team.”

“Tell me about it.” Eleanor rolled her eyes playfully. “Who do I talk to about getting that raise I was promised.”

“Oh, you get plenty as it is.” Louis leaned forward, capturing her lips. “Pay you in love and other things.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, standing up from the table. 

“I’ve gotta go.” He pulled his wallet out, tossing twenty five dollars onto the table. “S’enough for both of us and the tip, Pea. I’ll see you later in Mcgregor Hall for our study session.”

“H-”

“Bye.” He leaned over, pressing a sloppy kiss to my forehead before doing the same to El. 

I watched him storm out with a confused look on my face. 

“Should I not have asked about Christmas?” I looked at Eleanor with soft eyes. “I can’t….El, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Babe, it’s gonna be fine.” She said softly. “He’s just a bit moody today, isn’t he? Misses his Mum a whole lot, it has nothing to do with you.” 

“What are you two on about?” Louis asked, glancing between us. “Is something going on between you and Harry?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s the problem.”

“They have this chemistry and Piper really likes Harry, but he told her that being friend’s was their best option.” Eleanor explained softly. “Sometimes he’s sweet on her though and it makes her sad because she wants him.”

“El.” I mumbled, my cheeks growing warm. “He doesn’t need all of the details.”

“You like that miserable sod?” Louis asked. “You’re not worried about a relationship with him ruining your friendship?” 

“Not really.” I shook my head at Louis. “Harry and I will always be friends.” 

“No, I mean,” Louis sighed. “You’re not worried about it ruining you and Eleanor’s friendship?”

“No.” I said slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel like if you and Harry were to break up, you wouldn’t want to be friends with El because he’s always around.” Louis said softly. “Wouldn’t that be hard?”

“For a bit, yeah.” I shrugged. “We’re both mature, though. I think we could work through any differences and remain friends.”

“Why are you being so nosy?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes, looking at Louis. “What have you done?”

“Nothin’!” Louis exclaimed. “I’ve not done anythin’.”

“Louis!” She cried out. “You’re lying to me.”

“M’not.” He fidgeted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. “Swear I meant well.”

“Louis, what did you do?” I asked softly, my heart dropping as he avoided my gaze. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I just…” He licked over his bottom lip, looking between Eleanor and I with wide eyes. “I just asked him to consider your friendship with Eleanor before making any moves on you. I didn’t want to see her lose her best friend, you know?”

“You’re a sodding prick, Louis Tomlinson.” Eleanor snapped. “You knew that Harry would respect that if you asked. He thinks of you as a brother and he would do anything for you.”

“I have to go.” I grabbed my bag and my coat. “I have to find Harry.”

“Go on,” Eleanor said. “I’ve got a very naughty boyfriend to deal with.”

                                           ❄️💠❄️💠❄️💠❄️

The first place I ran to was the frat house. 

Harry wasn’t there and Niall hadn’t seen him at all. 

The second place I ran was the park on the far end of campus that we often spent weekends at.

He wasn’t there either. 

When I finally found him, I was only a little shocked. 

“You just played a match, mate.” I let out a relieved sigh when he snapped his head up, his eyes softening when he saw me. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed to clear my head.” He said as I walked closer. “Why are you here?”

“I had to see you.” I took a deep breath, swiping the ball from between Harry’s feet with a swift kick. It landed in the goal and Harry let out an amused, but breathy chuckle. “I’m getting good.”

“You’ve got a good teacher.” He snorted out a laugh. “Everything okay, sweet pea?”

“No.” I said. “You see, I’ve got this friend and he’s having some girl trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked. “What’s his deal?”

“He really likes this girl and he flirts with her all the time, but he hasn’t made a move.” I shrugged, glancing up at Harry. “There’s this other friend of theirs that asked an impossible favor of him and he’s being loyal, which I admit is admirable, but a little daft, as you would say.”

Harry’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down softly and he looked over my head. 

“He does sound quite daft, doesn’t he?” He let out a soft laugh, closing his eyes. “Piper-”

“It makes me love him more though.” I said softly. “The fact that he’s putting aside his feelings because he’s that loyal to the people he loves. It’s stupid, but really sweet.”

“You think so?” He asked, his eyes a little watery as he looked down at me. 

“I do.” I nodded. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this, Harry? We share everything with each other and-”

“This was the one thing I couldn’t tell you, pea.” He said softly. “I never wanted to hurt you and...I knew that this would.  I didn’t want you to feel like I was choosing something over you, because that isn’t the case.” 

“Harry, it’s okay.” I said softly. “I would have understood and I also would have had a very long talk with Louis about minding his own business, darling. You’re free to be with whoever you want and no one can tell you otherwise.”

“What if I want to be with my beautiful best friend, pea?” He reached up, brushing his thumb over my chin. “What if I want to be with the girl that stole my heart the moment I saw her?”

“Then make a fucking move, Styles.” I let out a breathy laugh as he leaned closer. “She won’t wait around forever. She’s a fucking catch and-”

Harry’s lips pressed into mine, cold and wet and perfect. 

I pressed my fingers into his shoulders, gripping his coat tightly with glove covered fingers. 

He tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. 

“You’re perfect, Piper.” His breath washed over my lips as I shuffled closer, desperately seeking his body heat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I said. “Just be with me, H. Be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Piper.” He brushed the tip of his nose over mine. “Always will be.”

When Harry’s lips pressed to mine again, something wet landed on my cheek. 

We both pulled back, looking up at the sky with wide smiles. 

“Snow.” I said softly. 

“Christmas miracle isn’t complete with snow, is it?” He teased, brushing his nose against mine. 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

                                                 🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Harry’s POV 

Louis looked like a child who had just been told Santa wasn’t real when Piper and I walked back into the cafe holding hands. He shot me a soft look that said ‘mate, I’m really sorry for being a dickhead’ and I gave him a tight smile in response. We still needed to have a talk about everything, but there was no use in fighting over something that was in the past now. It felt good, sitting next to Piper as her boyfriend and not just her best friend. It was sudden and my mind was still reeling, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I walked her back to her dorm that night with a pout on my lips and our fingers tightly laced together. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye, pea.” I mumbled, my thumb brushing against her cheek softly as we stood in front of her door. “Just got you.”

“You’ve always had me.” She snorted out a soft laugh. 

“Never been able to make out with you, though.” I wiggled my brows. “Think we can finally carry through on all that sexual banter we’ve been partaking in.”

“Yeah.” She said quickly, her cheeks getting pinker. “But not tonight, H. Think we should take some time apart to think about things before we jump right in. It’s going to be a bit different now and I need to get used to the idea.” 

“Take as much time as you need.” I pressed my lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I’ll be waiting.”

I was only slightly regretting my words now. 

Everyone had left for Christmas and we had the house to ourselves. 

We were in the middle of a movie marathon in the living room, a few bottles of wine and takeout boxes scattered on the coffee table as we snuggled into each other. Piper’s head rested on my chest and her fingers rested against my stomach, slightly drumming over the bit of holiday weight I had put on over the last week or so. She looked so cute all snuggled up in my sweater and a pair of fluffy sucks, my sweatpants tucked into them carelessly. 

“You’re thinking too loud.” She whispered, lifting her head up. “What’s going on in your head, H?”

“Just thinking about how cute you are.” I smiled down at her. “You’re all snuggled up in my clothes with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes. I just can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to call you my girl.”

Her eyes searched my face as I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I want you.” She said softly. “But I’m scared.”

“I wasn’t…” I trailed off. “M’not trying to get in your pants, sweet pea. I just wanted you to know that I’m so in love with you.”

“And I’m in love with you.” She sat up. “And I would really, really like to show you how much I love you.”

“When you’re ready.” I said. “I know that you didn’t have the best first time and you’re a little nervous to dive back in, but I can wait. I want you to be one hundred percent ready when the time comes.”

She inhaled sharply before giving me a soft nod. 

“I love you.” I said, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “Get back over ‘ere, pea. Wanna snuggle you some more.”

                                               🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Piper’s POV 

Harry was snoring softly in my ear on the couch. 

The sun had long gone down and the credits for The Holiday were rolling on the flatscreen in Harry’s living room. With a soft groan, I flipped around in his arms, nuzzling my face into his chest as he tightened his arms around me. The scent of his cologne filled my senses, nearly lulling me back to sleep. I was moments from falling back into dreamland when I felt something firm pressing between my thighs, causing my eyes to snap open. I pulled back to look at Harry’s face, his eyes still shut as he continued to softly snore. He was still fast asleep. 

I let out a soft gasp, my walls clenching down as I shifted against his thigh. I let out a soft gasp, my fingers tightening against his sweater as I stilled my hips. I tilted my head back, looking over his face as he slept peacefully. I didn’t want to wake him, but was done waiting. I wanted him. I wanted everything with Harry and I especially wanted to indulge passion filled moments with frantic hands and desperate kisses with a christmas film playing in the background. 

“Harry.” I said his name softly, my fingers trailing up his throat to cup his cheek. “Harry, baby, wake up.”

“S’wrong?” He asked, tucking his head down. “You alright?”

“I want you.” I said it softly, my heart pounding against my chest. “I’m ready.”

“Sweet pea, s’late.” He opened his eyes. “Are you sleep talkin’?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean it.” 

I rolled my hips, grinding my core against his thigh to really send the message through. 

“Piper.” He gasped, his eyes wide open. “Darling, what….what’re you doing?”

“Was trying to snuggle up to you and you put your thigh between my legs, H.” I said timidly, my face heating up under his gaze. His lips were curling into a soft smile and I bit the inside of my cheek. “It felt nice.”

“S’that why you want me?” He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Needy girl.”

“Please.” I whispered. “I need you.”

“I’ve got ye’.” He leaned down, pressing a series of soft kisses to my lips. “Gonna push your pants down, okay?”

I nodded, but she shook his head. 

“If we’re doing this, I want to hear you.” He said. “I need you to say what you want.”

“Take my pants off.” I griped, tilting my head back.

“Good girl.” 

Two little words.

They sent a shockwave through my body, running straight to my core. 

I let out a soft whimper as he pushed at the waistband of my pants. 

“M’too tired to fuck you.” He said softly. “But I promise to make you feel so good, sweet pea. Gonna have you cummin’ fo’ me.”

“Please.” 

I shifted my hips as he moved the waistband of my sweats to my thighs, his hand brushing up the skin of my leg to my hip. He gave it a soft squeeze as our lips collided and I squirmed beneath him. He pulled back, brushing his nose against mine with his eyes shut tight. 

“Do you want my fingers?” He asked me softly. 

“I do.” I nodded. “My fingers are too small and I can never get the angle right when I try.”

“Fuck, pea.” He groaned, opening his eyes. “You’re killing me, my love.”

“Just want to love you.” I pouted my bottom lip out. “Wanna feel good.”

“I know, darling.” He sponged a few soft kisses over my hairline. “Let me get on my back, okay. I want you to ride my fingers.”

Harry wrapped his arms around my body, turning onto his back. I fumbled, my chest pressed tightly to his as he let one of his hands trail over my bum. I whimpered when he tucked his fingers between the crease of my bum and my thigh, brushing the pads of his fingers over my lower lips. His other hand maneuvered its way between our bodies, his thumb brushing swiftly over my clit before it dipped towards my entrance. 

“S’this okay?” He asked. “You feel comfortable?” 

“Yes.” I nodded. “I’m good.” 

He inserted his thumb, pulling it out quickly before he slipped it back up to my clit. 

He rubbed soft circles over it as his fore and middle finger brushed over my entrance in a teasing manner. 

I rolled my hips, desperate to have them inside of me. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He said gruffly. “Ride my fingers, sweet pea. Take what you want from me.”

I gasped when he pushed two fingers into me, my slick walls stretching around them as I moved my hips. I pushed down as Harry curled his fingers up, stroking over that spongy spot inside of me. I moved my hips up, his fingers sliding out slowly before I fucked back onto them. He cooed, brushing the pad of his thumb over my clit in quick circles. 

“You’re so tight, Piper.” He whispered into my hairline as I gripped onto his shoulders. “You’re clenching my fingers so tight.”

“Feels so good, Harry.” I whimpered. “Wanna cum.”

“Are you close?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. “My girl is so greedy, isn’t she? Gonna cum before I properly fuck her with my fingers becuase she wants it so bad, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” I gasped against his throat. “I need to cum, Harry. It feels so good and I can’t...I need it, baby. Please let me cum.”

“Take it.” He said, sliding his free hand up to my hip. “Take it from me, Piper. Make yourself cum for me sweet pea.”

I felt my thighs clamping as he pressed harder against my clit, my hips stilling against his hand as he stroked that spongy spot inside of me. I felt my walls clenching down around his digits, my whole body warm as my mouth fell open. It was better than any orgasm I had ever experienced on my own and it had me crying out into the skin of his neck. He brushed his hand up my back, slowly slipping my fingers out as I started to come down. 

“You’re so good.” he whispered. “That was perfect, darling. Did so well for me, didn’t you, pea?” 

“That was nice.” I mewled. “Thank you, thank you-”

“Gonna treat you so good tomorrow, darling.” He promised, a sharp edge to his voice. “Gonna spend hours with my head between those pretty thighs and then I’m gonna fuck you like you want. Gonna have you screaming for me, sweet pea.”

I whimpered into his neck, nodding. 

“I want that.” I whispered. 

My eyes felt heavy as he started to pull my pants back up. 

“I love you so much, H.” I whispered, my eyes slipping shut as he covered me up. “Love you, darling.”

“I love you more, pea.” he whispered. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I drifted off to the sound of Harry’s voice, my face snuggling into his shirt. 

This was all I ever needed. 

#kaylee i hope you like this #stellarboystyles3years #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles frat au #harry styles frat boy #harry smut #harry writing #harry fluff #fray boy au #best friend #friends to lovers #bff!harry #fratboy!harry