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narryffdreaming · 1 month

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Maisy and Harry are just friends (except they aren't)

Summary: It all started with the prompt "we're not just friends and you fucking know it", and then it turned into several short scenes about two people who are supposed to be just friends, except they aren't.

ONE-SHOT AU, friends to lovers, angst, romance, sweetness, smut +18 (explicit language and explicit sexual content) 25k words

It took less than five minutes for a girl to approach him.

Maisy sighed and leaned back in her chair, sipping her almost-empty-drink and watching the scene take place right in front of her.

To be fair, she wasn't surprised. In fact, before Harry had left the table to get another round of drinks, she'd thought about making a joke and bet how long it would take for a girl to divert him from his task. In the end, she didn't say anything, of course. First because she worried he wouldn't find it funny, but mostly because she was afraid he would see right through her words and notice how terrified she was about the possibility of seeing him with someone else.

So, yeah, she wasn't surprised, but that still didn't mean she wasn't upset. After all, she had spent the entire day secretly hoping things between them would be different now.

"You're staring," Niall muttered next to her, taking the seat Harry had been occupying until a couple of minutes ago. "Already told ya, if you want him, talk to him."

Maisy scoffed, shaking her head as if she could also shake his words away. Niall was sweet, but he was also oblivious to the fact that Harry already knew about her feelings and, still, nothing had changed. Although, if she really thought about it, maybe things were even worse now.

Ugh, why was he acting like that? Why did he keep pretending nothing had happened?

Harry was one of her closest friends, and one of the things she loved the most about him was how sweet and thoughtful he was to everyone around him, especially to those he cared about. That's who he'd been to her since the first day, at least. So even if he didn't feel the same, surely she wasn't expecting for him to simply ignore her feelings.

Over a week had passed and she hadn't talked to anyone about it. As the days went by, it became obvious that the more she thought about what had happened, the more anxious she felt. She figured she deserved to be honest and talk to someone, so she straightened her body and pushed her shoulders back, turning towards Niall and taking a deep breath before finally letting the words out of her mouth.

"We kissed."

Niall pulled his beer away from his face and turned his head, facing her with an open mouth and widened eyes. "Wha—Who? You and Harry?"

Maisy nodded, and Niall jerked his body closer.

"What the fuck?! You two kissed? When? How?!"

His reaction made her chuckle, but she dismissed his excitement by shrugging and finishing her drink before speaking again—as if the story wasn't that important or that interesting (and as if they both didn't know that was obviously a lie).

"He just came over last week and… I don't know. We kissed?"

It sounded more like a question, like she wasn't sure it had actually happened. But it had. The kiss was real. It had happened and it had made her feel all kinds of different and exciting things. And now she couldn't stop thinking about doing it again. And again. And again.

"Right," Niall scoffed. "Just like that? After five years hanging out together, out of nowhere, you both just thought you know what? Let's kiss today. Might be fun!?"

Maisy didn't know how to answer that, so she rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. Niall definitely had a point, and maybe in a couple of weeks—or months, or years—she'd be able to explain it better, but right then and there she honestly didn't have an answer. It wasn't supposed to happen and it definitely was not what she had in mind when she invited him over, but they were having fun and laughing and at some point she felt something shift in the air and she just… She just kissed him.

Just like that.

Maisy kissed Harry.

And then Harry kissed Maisy.

A lot.

The memory made her cheeks turn hot, and her belly fluttered. She turned back to the table and looked down, fixing her eyes on her fingers and picking at her nails.

Niall must have sensed her uneasiness, because he didn't pressure for an explanation, moving on to the next question with a softer tone.

"Does he know you like him, then?"

Maisy shrugged.

"He must know. I mean, he has to know…" She tapped her foot on the ground, narrowing her eyes as she stared at her fingertips, "right?"

She lifted her eyes just a second, just to question him, and Niall dropped his shoulders.

He moved closer, throwing his arm over the back of her chair. "Isy…"

She shook her head, then focused back on her nails. "You said it yourself, Ni, we hang out all the time… And, I mean, he stays over a lot, and we cuddle, we hold hands… I don't do that with everyone. You know that. He knows that. And also, I don't know, why would I kiss him like that? Out of nowhere?"

"Because it wasn't out of nowhere."

"Exactly!" She looked up, and her eyes landed on Harry once more. Maisy sighed. "It wasn't."

The girl was still there, talking to him, casually laughing and flipping her hair. And Harry seemed really into it, happily paying attention and nodding to whatever the girl was saying. Smirking so fondly that Maisy could even see his dimple.

Her chest tightened, and her stomach swirled.

"God," Maisy laughed bitterly and shortly, rubbing her forehead as she looked away. "I'm so stupid."

"Isy," Niall sighed, "Stop. You're not stupid."

"I am, though." She shrugged. "It's just… He never looked at me that way, you know?"

Her voice cracked, and she took both hands up to her face, hiding behind them with an exaggerated grunt. "Fucking stupid…"

Niall took his hand to her shoulder and sighed, offering half a hug as he squeezed her gently. "That's not fair, Isy. You know how incredibly amazing you are. And to be honest you're just so out of his league. So much better than anyone he could ever date. So he is the stupid one for not seeing what's right in front of him, ok?"

Maisy shook her head. She knew Niall meant well, but she also felt like he didn't understand where she was coming from. See, Maisy knew that Harry liked her, and how much he trusted her — after all, that's why they were friends in the first place. She knew that she was important to him and that she was the first person he'd call or the one he'd run to when he needed something. She knew Harry would let her cry on his shoulder, hold her, share a bed with her, and listen to whatever she had to say. Dates would come and go in his life, but she was still there and he wouldn't let go of her.

So it wasn't like he didn't know what (or who) was in front of him.

Harry just didn't fancy her. Simply as that. He didn't dream about her in the same way she dreamed about him. And he had never treated her the same way he treated the girls he fancied on their nights out. He had never offered to buy her a drink just because he thought she was pretty, nor had tucked her hair behind her ear just to kiss her neck. He'd never rested his hand on her leg under the table, nor whispered in her ear how badly he wanted to take her home.

Harry had never shown any signs of being physically attracted to her, and that really, really, freaking fucking sucked. Because there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn't force him to want her like she wanted him.

"Do you want to leave?" Niall squeezed her shoulder. "'Cause I think we should."

Maisy nodded, then dropped her hands down to the table. "Yeah, please. Let's just go."

"Ok, great." He smiled, relieved at the idea of taking his best friend away from there. "'M just gonna pee and we'll go, ok? Be right back."

Nodding to Niall's words and watching him walk away, Maisy couldn't help but glance over them one more time.

Without a doubt, if Maisy had a choice, she wouldn't actively compare herself to others, knowing it was an unhealthy and worthless habit. Then again, she didn't notice she was doing it until it was too late and her throat felt too dry to even breathe. Because everything about the girl standing in front of Harry seemed perfect, and everything about Maisy sitting at that table by herself seemed ridiculous — she hadn't even at least showered after work, for God's sake!

There were so many differences between her and that girl that it seemed impossible not to feel embarrassed about even thinking something could happen between them, or about even feeling something just platonic for him.

Besides the fact that the girl was extremely attractive, or that her hair was long, wavy and shiny, or that her dress hugged her figure amazingly, it was obvious that her body language screamed confidence and determination.

And she wasn't doing anything wrong, really, but Maisy wanted to push her away from him as soon as she saw her raise her body to whisper in his ear, touching Harry's arm and making him smile. It only got worse when Harry leaned in and tucked a lock of hair behind the girl's ear, letting his hand slide from her shoulder to her hand, and then resting it on her waist. He smirked, then whispered something back to her.

"'M back, let's go." Niall stood in front of her, frowning while blocking up her view. "'M gonna walk you home, then I'm gonna punch Harry's fucking stupid face. C'mon."

— — — — —

Maisy had a feeling it was Harry as soon as she heard the knock on her door, hence why she wasn't surprised to see him standing in the middle of the hallway. Still, it was barely past midnight, so seeing him there didn't make much sense—wasn't he supposed to be with the girl?

"Heyyy Haz!" She smiled, trying her best to appear nonchalant despite the fact that she had just spent thirty minutes crying over him in the shower. "Thought you were still at the pub."

"Can I come in?"

The tone of his voice was one she couldn't recognize, and Maisy froze for a moment. She blinked at him, taking in the intensity behind his glare and the tension all over his face. Her smile faltered, and she furrowed her brows.

"I—Yes." She took a step aside and raised his hand, showing him the way as if he hadn't simply barged in any other time up until then. "Of course."

Harry stared ahead and walked in, radiating so much tension and heat that Maisy's heart skipped a beat, then immediately sped up. She swallowed, closing the door before following his steps to the living room.

As seconds went by, he didn't turn to look at her, and she was able to spot a slight trace of red lipstick on his neck. It was hard not to picture him and the girl together, but it was even harder not to think about how it had felt to tangle her own fingers through his curls while tasting that same bit of skin. And it hurt that, no matter how much she wished she could kiss him again, somebody else had done that already just earlier that night.

"Are you ok?" she asked, pushing the memories away. "Did—Did something happen?"

Harry snorted. "I don't know. You tell me."

Maisy frowned, scrunching up her face and blinking a few times while trying (and miserably failing) to organize her thoughts.

"What? I—What's… What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry remained silent, though, and her chest tightened. Closing her hands into fists, she licked her lips and took a breath in, then looked him up and down.

"Haz, please…" her voice trembled, but she still tried. "What's going on? Talk to me."

Nothing changed, and she swallowed.

"Can you at least look at me? Please? I don't—"

"Why?!" He turned around, then, so abruptly that Maisy's mouth fell open as she took a step back.

"Why didn't you talk to me? Huh?!" Harry glared at her, his jaw tightened and his brows snapped together while he threw his hands in the air and raised his voice. "Why did I have to go through a massive fight with Niall to find out that you have—That you—I mean—" he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. A moment passed while he took a deep breath, only for him to give a humorless laugh right after. "Jesus, it's so absurd I can't even say it."

"What…Why—Why are you so mad at me?" She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing Harry wasn't making any sense, but at the same time scared for what she thought he was implying. Had Niall gone back to the pub? He had walked her home only a couple of hours earlier, they'd talked a little, she'd cried on his shoulder, and then he'd left. She hadn't thought about where he would go next, just assuming he'd go straight back to his place, but maybe she'd been wrong? She just… She didn't… What was happening? "I—I didn't do anything. I don't even… I don't even know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the fact that Niall just yelled at me for half an hour for apparently breaking your heart, Maisy. That's what I'm talking about!"

There was a pause. A long and painful pause.

Harry's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, fists clenched while his arms remained at his sides and he glared at her.

Standing a few feet across from him, Maisy's eyes welled up with tears. She knew Harry like she knew the palm of her hand, and out of all the times she'd imagined him finding out, anger had never been present. Shock? Sure. Sadness? Yes. Worry? Also yes. Pity? Almost every time. She'd imagined many things, and different emotions. Everything. Anything. But never that.

She'd never thought he would ever throw words at her so carelessly, so loudly, and so harshly. On top of that, she also didn't think she deserved them. Because, really, what had she done besides stupidly falling in love with him? She'd never gotten in his way nor stopped him from living his life. So, yeah, truly—why was he so mad at her?

She swallowed down her tears and clenched her teeth, blinking rapidly as adrenaline rushed through her veins.

"Oh, I see." She took a step closer and nodded, straightening her body and allowing her hands to talk along with her own raising voice. "So what? Niall tells you that you broke my heart and this is your reaction? What the hell Harry?! Did you really think this was a good idea? Coming back to my place in the middle of the night just to yell at me?! What were you thinking?!"

Harry flinched, and blinked. A mix of emotions flashed through his eyes, until he settled with anger once again.

"Of course I didn't think or plan this, Maisy! That's exactly why I'm here. I'm trying to understand because it doesn't make any sense!"

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Everything was fine, Maisy!"

She rolled her eyes and looked away, taking her hand up to pull her hair back and letting him say whatever he wanted to say.

"So I don't get it, ok?! I don't! And we were having fun tonight! Man I met this amazing girl, and was just about to take her home when Niall started yelling at me. For fucks sake! Out of nowhere! Of course she left and now I'm—"

"Okay, okay. Stop," she interrupted, holding her palms up and staring back at him. "Just… Just stop, please."

Harry frowned even deeper, and a long, low sigh fell through Maisy's lips. There was no point in arguing with him, and she knew that.

"I get it, okay?" she added. "And I'm very sorry for ruining your night with this amazing girl. I swear I didn't mean to. I left the pub just so I could come home and cry by myself. So trust me, I didn't want to bother you with this, ok? And I swear to God I didn't want Niall to go back and tell you about it. I didn't want any of this to happen. So I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

She dropped her weight on the couch and breathed in, then slowly rubbed her temples and breathed out.

It was the realization of how exhausted she sounded that made Harry stop and pay attention to her for the first time since she'd opened the door. He noticed the lack of energy, the way she covered her face, the way she hunched her body as if she needed to hug herself. As if she needed to protect herself.

It only took one second and one attentive glance for all of his anger to melt away, and a big wave of guilt crashed into him.

Unfortunately, though, Harry didn't know how to handle that situation. It was a new dynamic between them, a new path for a friendship that wasn't supposed to take that turn. So he continued justifying himself, although much more carefully than before.

"It took me by surprise, y'know? That's all. I was—" He shut his mouth and shook his head, exhaling before going back to explaining himself. "It doesn't matter. The thing is that Niall just came out of nowhere, so mad at me, Isy… I couldn't understand what was going on, and then he was blaming me for breaking your heart and talking about how you—saying that you have—I mean—That you have—"

"That I have, what?" With closed eyes, she dug her fingertips into her forehead, then shrugged. "Just say it, Harry, c'mon."

He frowned, unable to move.

"Is it true? Do you?"

"Again, what?" Letting out a hollow laugh, she dropped her hands down to her lap and looked at him. "You have to at least say it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't make sense! It— it can't be true. We are just friends and—"

"Oh, c'mon Harry!" She stood up, taking a step forward if only to make sure he wouldn't ignore her next words. "We're not just friends and you fucking know it."

"No! I don't—I mean, yes. Yes we are. We're just friends, Isy!"

"Just friends? Really?"

"Yes!"

"Well…" She shrugged, and looked away. "Not to me then, I'm sorry."

Harry took a step back and widened his eyes. And then, he blinked, pulling his hair back with one hand and resting the other on his hip before glancing down at his own feet.

Maisy sighed. A tiny part of her wanted to grab him by his shoulders, shake him up, and yell at him to wake up. Just shout at him. Prove him wrong.

However, she had no more energy to fight him. Not about that, at least. Her body felt too heavy to even move and her heart had changed into a slow thud inside her numb chest. Harry was her favorite person, but at that moment all she wanted was to be alone. It wasn't her intention to make him angry, let alone disappoint him, and knowing that she'd put them both in that situation only made her feel even more ashamed.

So she decided to be honest. Too exhausted to argue, she decided to stop fighting or running away and just say what she'd been thinking since she'd left the pub earlier that night.

"Look… I don't think we're just friends, Haz. I'm just friends with Niall. I've known him for over 10 years and I've never kissed him. God, I never even thought about kissing him. He slept over plenty of times, but he never asked to cuddle with me, and he never held me the way that you do. Last week I… I kissed you and you kissed me back, Harry. And maybe I got it wrong, but… But you really made me feel like you fucking wanted to, y'know? We weren't drunk, we kissed for hours and we didn't even have sex. We kissed and then you stayed and you fell asleep with your arms around me. And then you woke up and you—" Her voice cracked, and she knew she needed to take a deep breath if she wanted to continue. Maybe reliving every single detail was too much, maybe she didn't need to do that. "Anyway, no, ok? No. You and me, Harry? We're not just friends, and even if you can't say it out loud or believe it's true, I do have feelings for you. I've had feelings for you for a long time now and to be honest, yeah, you really… I'm sorry but you really broke my heart tonight."

Even with all the chatter around him, Harry caught the soft thump of someone's boots across the busy studio. It was like his mind was searching for the perfect excuse to get distracted, because he instantly dropped the task he was supposed to be doing and focused on the sound, instead. From there on, every noise caught his attention — Nina's fingers tapping against the keyboard, Johnny's phone ringing, Jenny and Patrick laughing as they filled their mugs with coffee, Maria and Julia whispering by the windows.

Despite not seeing anyone, he somehow kept up with everyone's movements and conversations. Meanwhile, displayed on the screen in front of him, the design he was supposed to be working on since he'd arrived that morning—and that he was also supposed to deliver to a client in less than thirty-six hours—remained untouched.

"You look like shit," Niall's voice pointed out from behind him, and Harry stiffened on his seat.

He knew Niall had been right behind him all along. Of course he knew. It wasn't as if he could've expected anything differently. After all, that's how the two had met: they'd joined the agency on the same day and were assigned to sit back to back from each other, then the rest was history.

Since then, that monday was the first day in over five years they still hadn't said even one word to each other. It was weird, to be honest, but they were both still resentful from the events of last friday's night, and too stubborn to handle the situation any differently.

So, yeah. To sum it up, Harry knew Niall had been there all along, but he wasn't expecting to engage in a conversation with him. Not yet. Not for another couple of days.

Still, Harry cleared his throat, and shrugged.

"Yeah, well…" he said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "I feel like shit."

Niall made a sound that resembled a hum, but then got quiet. And Harry wasn't sure of what he could say next, or if there was anything to say at all, so he breathed in and waited in silence.

No matter how confusing the latest events of his life had been, if there was one thing Harry was still sure of, it was that Niall and Maisy cared about each other like brother and sister. And that whilst he'd been easily welcomed into the group by the two of them, their friendship already lasted for over a decade, so it would always come first. And he was ok with that, he understood that. Niall knew Maisy in a different way than Harry did, and she would tell Niall things that she would never talk to him about, so there was no point in competing with them. It wasn't even something he would ever try to do, to be honest.

"So…" Niall cleared his throat. "You went to Isy's."

And there it was.

Harry closed his eyes.

See? Of course Niall already knew about that.

Sure, it didn't bother him, and it also wasn't a surprise, but… What was he supposed to say? He didn't even think Niall would want to talk to him, so what was he supposed to expect out of that conversation? As far as Harry knew, he had broken Maisy's heart and she wasn't talking to him anymore. And that was it. He had fucked everything up — before he even knew there was something to fuck up in the first place.

Bloody hell.

Harry sighed, then glanced at the screen in front of him.

To be completely honest, he had spent the last 48 hours trying to understand what the hell had happened, wincing every time he remembered Maisy's words and shuddering every time he thought about how he'd left her crying by herself on the couch.

Those same 48 hours had made him feel all over the place, everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. He was all by himself the entire weekend, locked at home, having to occupy his mind with random, meaningless and stupid little things so he wouldn't drown in his own thoughts. Surely, it wasn't the first time they hadn't seen or talked to each other for a couple of days — although it was something rare to happen — but it was the way they'd left things that kept tormenting him.

He still had so many questions, because he needed so many answers. He wanted to know more about what had happened, about what had changed, or when, or why…

And he was also desperate to know what would happen next, because… Well… What was he even supposed to do after all that?

Harry rolled his chair around, getting himself out of his own spiraling thinking.

Niall was already facing him, glaring at him. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs extended forward, clenching his jaw and flaring his nostrils as if he was trying to set Harry on fire.

Clearly, it was safe to say Niall was still mad at him. And Harry didn't blame him — he was mad at himself, too.

He rolled his shoulders, and finally asked, "Did she tell you about it?"

Niall shrugged once. Briefly and quickly. "Kinda."

Harry nodded. He took one of his hands out of the pocket of his jumper and lifted it to the back of his neck, then massaged some of the stiffness away. There were so many things he wanted to ask, it was hard to choose where to start. He also didn't want to say the wrong thing and have Niall trying to physically fight him again. Things were already bad enough as they were, there was no need to add more drama into it.

Moving his hand from his neck to his face, he dragged his eyes to the floor and pinched his lip, pulling the skin as he voiced the next question.

"When did you see her?"

"Yesterday."

Harry nodded again, eyes still on the floor and fingers still on his bottom lip.

Across from him, Niall narrowed his eyes. He wasn't just messing around when he'd said Harry looked like shit. A beanie hid his hair, his shoulders were rigid, he hadn't shaved, his jaw was clenched, and he kept constantly squeezing his eyebrows together. Also, judging by the bags under his eyes, he didn't seem to be sleeping that well — or he didn't seem to be sleeping at all.

Should he be worried? He'd checked on Maisy a lot, but maybe he should've checked on Harry as well, because maybe this whole situation had also messed him up, even if for different reasons. Maybe Harry also needed a friend.

Shit.

Niall took a deep breath and uncrossed his arms, letting his shoulders fall as he straightened his back. "You honestly look like shit mate, did you sleep at all this weekend?"

Harry finally glanced over, shaking his head.

"I'm just…" He pressed his lips together, scratching his jaw before letting both of his hands fall on his lap. "She hasn't been answering any of my calls."

Niall lifted then dropped his eyebrows, nodding as if he knew exactly what Harry was talking about.

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged. "I don't think she will, to be honest."

Harry nodded, and looked away.

He probably deserved that.

— — — — —

"Thanks," Harry said to the waitress as she placed two beers and some fries on the table.

As soon as she walked away, he grabbed a bottle and took a sip, giving himself a few more seconds before asking the question he really wanted to ask.

"How is she?"

Niall's hand was full of fries, midway to his mouth, and Harry didn't miss the way he froze for one second before looking at him and engulfing them. He didn't finish eating before answering, mumbling the words as he chewed, "She's hurt. And you know how she gets when she's hurt."

"Fuck." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, pulling his head back and sighing to the ceiling. It killed him to know he'd been the one to make Maisy suffer, it killed him that she didn't let him hold her when she cried, and it killed him how she begged him to leave her alone because his presence was only making it worse. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I would never mean that."

Niall scoffed, and Harry glanced down again. He found his friend eating fries absently, as if he wasn't part of the conversation anymore. Scanning them carefully before picking one and shoving it into his mouth. And then another one.

Harry frowned. "What? You know I didn't mean to hurt her, right?"

Niall peeked at him through the corner of his eyes.

"Well…" He tilted his head from side to side, then shifted on his seat and rubbed his hands together, cleaning up the salt. "Look, you didn't mean it. Fine. But I don't think you worried about it either, alright? I mean, you walked to the bar to get Isy a drink and didn't come back 'cause you wanted to hook up with some random chick. Which, by the way, was already a problem in the first place 'cause she had to watch you flirting around. But then, after I told you she has feelings for you, you went back to hers and blamed her for not getting laid? That's fucked up man, c'mon."

"She told you I blamed her for not getting laid?"

Niall lifted his eyebrows. "Didn't you?"

"I—I don't know, I was just freaking out. You saw when I left the pub, I wasn't even thinking."

"Clearly," Niall snickered, then looked around the pub as he took a deep breath. "Look, she didn't want to say anything 'cause she didn't want to lose your friendship… And, yeah, maybe part of this mess it's on me, 'cause… Well, 'cause I told you about it, alright? But… Mate… Look, you didn't see how hurt she was when she saw you at the bar, ok? You didn't think about her, and that really, really pissed me off."

Rubbing his jaw, Harry rolled his neck and sighed. It was true, Harry didn't see how much it hurt Maisy to see him at the bar. He actually didn't even know Maisy was watching as the girl approached him, but even if he did, he wouldn't have thought it was something that would hurt her. Sure, she would probably tease him for ditching them, or pinch him for leaving her waiting for her drink… But feeling hurt? As far as he knew, that wasn't even an alternative.

"I don't… I don't get it." He shrugged. "It's not like she never saw me with a girl before. I mean, I've been single since we met, and that's over five years, man. She's the one who had a boyfriend for two fucking years and you never saw me say a word about it."

"Huh," Niall scoffed, curving his lips up as he took his beer to his mouth. He took a sip, then murmured behind the bottle, "I had no idea Maisy having a boyfriend bothered you."

Harry tilted his own bottle, pointing at him. "That's not what I said. My point is, she knows I hook up every now and then. We always talked about it, and it was never a problem before."

Rolling his eyes, Niall sighed. Harry was really getting on his nerves with those stupid doubts.

"Well, obviously, this time was different."

"But why? Why was it different this time? What changed?"

"What changed?" Niall laughed, humorlessly and unbelievably, banging his beer against the table and inching forward. He wouldn't expect a kiss to mean something when it came to random hook ups, but he also wouldn't expect Harry to treat Maisy like a random hook up. Harry knew her better than that. And Maisy deserved better than that. Harry couldn't just kiss her and act as if it hadn't happened. He just couldn't. Niall wouldn't allow that. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Or are you just that stupid?!"

"Wha—"

"You two fucking kissed, mate! C'mon!"

"I—"

"You do remember that, right?"

Harry scoffed. "Of course I remember!"

"Of course you remember." Niall rolled his eyes and shook his head, chuckling at how dense his friend could be. "Then what? Are you trying to pretend it didn't happen?"

Harry shook his head and stared down at his hands, one of them holding the bottle as the other played with the sticker on it. Of course he wasn't trying to pretend their kiss hadn't happened. He just didn't think it was something that would happen between them, and when it did, he didn't think it would go further than that. He didn't think Maisy saw him that way. Maybe at first, years ago, when they'd just met. But once he realized she'd put him in the friendzone, he didn't think he would ever get out of there. And he'd made peace with that. He put the idea away and locked it inside his mind. But he also wasn't sure if any of that made sense, and he didn't want to say something that would make it seem as if he didn't care about Maisy. Because he did. He cared about her way too much to lose her.

"I'm not—" Shit. How was he supposed to explain what was going through his mind? "I'm not trying to pretend it didn't happen, that's—that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, feeling a sour taste in his mouth. "I guess… I guess I just didn't think she was expecting something different from me, that's all."

The pause that followed his answer was filled with tension. Harry kept fidgeting with the bottle in his hand, taking deep breaths to clear out his mind. Or perhaps to relieve the memories of that day. Trying to understand why it should've been so obvious to him that Maisy expected more out of them when she didn't say anything about it. Why should've been so obvious to him, when she didn't act any differently the next morning? Why should've been so obvious to him, when she'd barely texted him back the next day? And why should've been so obvious to him if, when he'd invited her to go out for a drink, she'd been the one to suggest that Niall tagged along?

"Anyway…" Niall said, then put more fries inside his mouth and chewed. After a second, he swallowed, then added, "Everything would've probably been just fine if you hadn't freaked out on her. That was really stupid."

"Right." Harry raised an eyebrow, eying his friend from across the table. "Can you blame me, though? You shoved me over those tables and tried to punch me, mate! Out of nowhere. Did you really need to be so fucking dramatic?"

Niall shifted on his seat, chuckling under his breath as he scratched his neck. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that… I told ya, I was really pissed off."

Harry's lips curved into a smile. He shook his head, lifting his beer and finishing the liquid inside while Niall ate more fries.

The tension between them had faded off, so although their conversation died for a couple minutes, things didn't feel awkward anymore. Still, there were a million things rushing through Harry's mind. Because, truly, what the hell was he supposed to do now? He didn't want to lose Maisy. He really didn't. But she wasn't texting him back, nor answering any of his calls, and he didn't want to be invasive and just show up at her door. He wanted to fix things, not make them worse.

So, playing with the odds, Harry decided to break off the silence and rip off the band-aid that was covering his deepest dilemma.

"What do I do now?"

Niall gulped the fries down, then drummed his fingers on the table and shrugged. "Do you have feelings for her?"

Harry looked away. Did he? Didn't he? How was he supposed to know that? It was a very simple and obvious question, and whereas it didn't surprise him, he wasn't actually expecting to answer it. He didn't know how to, to be honest.

"Can't help you if you don't know what you want, mate," Niall said. "You already know she has feelings for you, so I don't know what you expect me to say… 'Cause either you have feelings for her and go for it, or you don't and you let her go. But there's no way you can pretend nothing happened."

"No, I know that."

"Good. So figure out what you're feeling, and do something about it."

Three weeks later, Maisy saw him again.

Lucie had offered to leave him out of her birthday celebrations, but to be honest Maisy didn't think it was fair to shut him off from his entire group of friends. Even if the only reason why he knew them was because she and Niall had introduced him in the first place.

So there she was, at a gorgeous rooftop club, on a Saturday night, wearing a black top and white pants that she secretly hoped would blow Harry's mind. Showing off as much cleavage as she could, and pairing the high-waist with heels to highlight her curves around her hips. Mingling with the girls, and avoiding Max's hints for a second date. Laughing and chatting with a drink in her hand, while peering at the door and waiting for him to arrive.

It was kind of agonizing, to be honest. And if she didn't know he was giving Niall a ride to the party, she would've already given up by then.

But then she finished her second drink, went to the restroom, and as she made it back to the table, she finally saw them. Harry and Niall. Walking up the stairs that led to the terrace. Half an hour late, and the last ones to arrive.

Knowing it would take them a minute or two to reach the group, Maisy took a step to the side and hid behind Callie, placing a hand on her lower back and encouraging her not to move.

"What's up?" Callie asked, turning her head to the side.

Peering over her friend's shoulder, Maisy shook her head and whispered, "Nothing. He's here."

"Hmmm…" Callie nodded, then took a sip of her drink. "So what? You are moving on, remember? Going out on dates with Max and all that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Maisy rolled her eyes, giving a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just wanna look at him for one second, then I'll move on… I mean, just look at him, Callie… He's hot!"

Callie chuckled and shook her head, and although Maisy couldn't see her, she could imagine her rolling her eyes at those words. Not because she didn't think Harry was handsome, but because she'd already made up her mind about not supporting her feelings for him anymore. Not after seeing how much he'd hurt her. Still, she didn't say anything else, going back to whatever conversation she was having before and letting Maisy enjoy the view.

So that's exactly what she did.

Harry walked with his head low, following Niall's lead and mumbling "excuse me" and "sorry" every time he had to squeeze between bodies. He was wearing her favorite shirt, a custom made checked one he'd gotten last Christmas from his stylist sister, and Maisy bit her lip. He'd left it unbuttoned and layered it over a white t-shirt, its neckline so low that she could see the two swallows facing each other on his chest, as long as his usual gold cross necklace. His curls were shorter and all messed up in his head, and if she didn't know him better, she would've thought he hadn't even remembered to comb his hair after showering. But that wasn't the case, and she was sure it was exactly the look he was going for — it had always killed her how good he looked like that.

"Niall, Harry, over here!" Diana raised her arm and waved her hand, bursting Maisy's tiny bubble.

Moving from behind Callie, Maisy walked to the opposite side of the table and took a seat next to Josh. She smiled at him and Eileen, who had her fingers intertwined with his, and pretended not to see Niall stand right next to Lucie and raise his arms up in the air, or how cheers were thrown around them when they started greeting everyone.

"You ok?" Eileen asked, leaning forward to look at her.

"Of course." Maisy smiled, and nodded.

Was she, though?

Their voices were mixed up with music, laughter and glasses clinking together, but even so she heard Harry's words loud and clear, wishing their mutual friend a happy birthday and thanking her for inviting him. It's been a long time, you definitely look older, he joked, and Maisy had to really force herself to hold back a smile—and maybe even some tears.

It hurt to see him like that—so comfortable, so cute, so friendly, and so hot—knowing she wouldn't be able to touch him like she wished to. Above and beyond, it hurt not being able to sit next to him and just chat, make him laugh, and stare into his green eyes while listening to his deep and slow voice.

She didn't know how to act in front of him anymore, which really bothered her.

Before their fight, or whatever that had been, being friends with Harry had never been difficult, and her feelings for him had never felt like a problem, so being incapable of at least saying 'hello' to him made her feel immature and stupid. There was a weight on her shoulders pressuring her to quickly find a way to handle the situation, and a voice shouting at her that she was a 28 years-old woman who by now had to know how to remain friends and move on.

Honestly, though, why did she let this happen? Why did she kiss him? Why did she tell Niall about the kiss? Why did she have to go and ruin everything?

"You think you'll talk tonight?"

Maisy shrugged. She didn't have to ask Eileen what she meant by that. All of her friends knew about what had happened that Friday night, and they'd all shown different reactions to it. In this case, Eileen was still very supportive of her feelings for Harry, and a firm believer that their friendship was too important and deep to let it die so easily after one mistake.

"I don't think so," she said, focusing on her friend's eyes to avoid the fact that, had it been a month before, she would've already been wrapped around his arms. "What's there to talk, anyway?"

"What if he wants to apologize?"

"Who wants to apologize?" Josh asked, sitting in between the two girls.

"No one—"

"Harry."

"Eileen!"

"Oops!" Eileen covered her mouth with one hand and widened her eyes. "Sorry! Sorry! He won't tell anyone. I promise."

Josh frowned. "Couldn't even if I tried."

Maisy sighed. "It's fine. I just—"

"Hey guys…" Harry's deep voice interrupted their conversation, and they all shut their mouths.

Maisy held her breath and turned her head, tilting her chin up to look at his face. Harry stood right across from her with a soft smile on his face, hunching over the short table to give Eileen a kiss on the cheek and Josh a handshake. Her pulse raced, and her stomach fluttered. Oh God. She couldn't do that. She just… She couldn't.

She really couldn't.

It was too much.

So when he seemed to finally turn his head towards her, her eyes just darted to the other side, and she was up from her seat.

"Niall!" she shouted, her mouth curving into a wide smile as she raised her arm and waved to get her best friend's attention. "Hii!"

And before she knew it, she was off the table and away from him.

— — — — —

The music was louder than before, everyone seemed too drunk and sweaty, and it was definitely time for her to leave. But Maisy was having fun for the first time in three weeks, and she didn't want that feeling to end. She had cried too much, for too many days, and a night of laughter and dancing with her friends was all she needed to step out of that sadness.

Or, well, that's what she'd thought, at least.

Because, see? Maisy was having fun. Until, out of nowhere, her friends decided to start discussing her (nonexistent) lovelife. All over again.

"Horannnnn! C'mere!"

Callie waved, and Maisy dropped her head back.

"Nooooo!" she cried. "Stop!"

"Ladies," Niall said with a huge grin on his face, standing between Callie and Maisy and throwing one arm around each one. "What's the shouting all about?"

"Well…" Eileen said, wiggling her eyebrows and hiding a smirk behind the rim of her drink. "We want to know what's up with Harry."

"What? Why? What did he do now?" Niall dropped Callie and turned towards Maisy, placing both hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Tell me and I'll kick his ass."

"Nothing!"

She really wanted them to stop. How was she supposed to stop thinking about Harry, if people kept constantly bringing him up?

"Mhm, nothing." Callie said. "He's just been fucking ogling her the entire night, that's all."

"Ohhh, that," Niall chuckled, throwing his arm around Maisy's shoulders one more time and then pulling her closer for half-a-hug. "Yeah, I know."

Lucie and Eileen squeaked, the first one quickly demanding an explanation, "What do you mean, yeah, I know?"

Maisy looked away.

Niall frowned. "Just… Yeah, I know he's been watching her?"

"Okay, but why is he watching her?"

He shrugged. "I guess he's just so used to it that he doesn't even notice, I don't know. You both should talk, though," —he tapped Maisy's shoulder— "he's honestly been miserable at work."

"And who's fault is that? Huh?" Callie straightened her back, crossing her arms on her chest. "Besides, he's too late, we're rooting for Max now."

"Uh, excuse me?" Eileen scoffed. "Honey, there's no way I'm rooting for Max. I'm totally team Harry."

"Yeah, I don't know," Lucie said. "I mean, I always felt like Maisy and Harry were end game, y'know?"

"Girls—"

"But he was such a dick to her!"

"Once, Callie. It was one questionable moment in five years, ok?"

"Yeahh! He's such a sweetheart. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"Ladies, hey—"

"Well, I don't. Max stepped up in one week and did something Harry couldn't in five years. That's the kind of man I want for my friend."

"Just let them," Maisy whispered, watching the way her three best friends argued about something that had nothing to do with them. And the exact topic she'd been trying to avoid the entire night. She loved them, she knew they meant well, and she knew they were all drunk, but they were definitely ruining the end of her night. She didn't want to talk about Max, and she didn't want to think about Harry. She just wanted to have fun. Why couldn't her friends let her have fun?

"Are you ok?" Niall asked, directly in Maisy's ear, then squeezed her shoulder.

"Mhm." She scoffed, and tilted her chin towards her friends. "I'm pretty sure if I walk out of here right now, they won't even notice."

"Wanna sit and chat for a bit?"

"Nahh…" She shook her head, then looked around, checking out the different groups of people surrounding them. There was a beat of silence between them, loudly filled by the music, and then she added, "I know he's been watching me."

Niall snorted. "Don't we all? Guy doesn't know how to be subtle."

Maisy's lips curled into a smile, and she looked down at her feet. "It doesn't matter, tho. He told me we're just friends, so… I don't know… I don't want to look too much into it."

"Right. Well…" Niall sighed. By then, he'd already chatted with Harry for weeks, till the point where it felt there was nothing left to talk about. So he knew his friend had fucked up things, but he also knew how deeply he regretted it. If things had happened in a different setting, under different circumstances, Harry's reaction would've been also different. Which is why he'd been feeling so guilty—he'd been the one to throw Harry off, when he knew both of them had more than a few beers in their system. And although he couldn't go back in time and change Harry's actions and words, he could try to make them talk again.

"Y'know," he started, and then took a pause to think about his next words. "When we talked at work, he told me that your kiss was just a kiss. So I asked if he had ever kissed Callie, or Lucie, or Eileen, right? And, like, he just went in shock, as if what I was saying was fucking absurd."

Maisy frowned. "I'm not following, Ni. I'm not drunk, but I'm definitely not sober enough to psychoanalyze stuff."

Niall chuckled, shaking his head and squeezing her shoulder. "My bad. What I mean is, he didn't think kissing you was absurd, but he thought kissing the other girls was, y'know? I guess he thought that it was so normal that it didn't mean anything."

"That doesn't make sense," Maisy laughed bitterly, shaking her head and taking a step back to look into Niall's eyes as she left her unfiltered thoughts out of her mind. "I don't want my kiss to feel normal, Ni, c'mon. If he didn't feel anything, if he didn't think about doing it again or, I don't know… If it didn't cross his mind even once, then why will I think he wants me? I hate that we're supposed to believe men feel something for us even when they don't say it, you know? Or that we're supposed to believe they love us when they say they hate us. If he can flirt with other girls and let them know he wants them, then why can't he do the same for me? I just—I can't be with someone who won't let me know they want me, okay? I can't. And I won't."

"You're right, yeah, sorry." Niall lowered his head and nodded, knowing she had a point. Maisy shouldn't wait around just because Harry wasn't ready to deal with his feelings, she had already talked to him about that and explained her point of view, and he understood where she was coming from. It wasn't Maisy who had to step up and do something about her feelings. Not anymore. Now Harry was the one who had to let her know how he felt. "'M sorry, Isy."

Maisy sighed, grabbed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I know. You're fine. Thanks for always listening."

"Anytime, love." He pulled her by the neck and kissed the side of her head, then let her go. "Look at that, now they walked away and we didn't even notice."

She looked around and chuckled, noticing her friends weren't near them anymore. She glanced back to their tables, then, where she found them dancing with the boys. Josh was there. Max was there. Franklin, Nick and Kevin were there. Ryan was there. And even Tommy had shown up again—attached to a girl Maisy had never seen before. Of course, since he stood next to her, Niall was missing. But besides him, the only one who wasn't around the table was… Harry.

And to be honest the thought shouldn't have crossed her mind. It shouldn't. And even when it already had, she shouldn't have looked around for him, because deep down she already knew where she would find him and what she would see, and she didn't want to go through that again.

It had been such a fun night, she'd felt so good again.

She didn't want to look for him.

And yet…

She did.

She let her eyes wander and stop right where he was, at the bar, wearing her favorite shirt.

Again, she should've looked away, but she didn't, because she wanted to know who he was talking to, who was standing in front of him while she only could see his back.

And if she had listened to all of those warnings voiced in her head, if she hadn't waited for him to move a little bit, and if she hadn't waited for the person in front of him to tilt their head to the side, she wouldn't have felt the air getting knocked out of her. Because she wouldn't have seen him there, talking again with that amazing girl from three weeks ago — the girl he was talking to when her own feelings ruined everything for him, and for them.

"C'mon… C'mon…" Maisy mumbled to herself. Her body shivered while she stared at her phone, watching as the Uber app tried to find her a driver, and she crossed one arm over her stomach.

She knew she should've worn a blazer instead of prioritizing not clashing her outfit. Or at least she should've been still inside, where it was warm and she could sit down — although that wasn't really an option, because it would've ruined her plans of sneaking out without Callie noticing.

She tapped her foot against the floor, glaring at her phone. It wasn't supposed to be taking this long, it wasn't supposed to be so hard to find a ride home.

Maybe she should just walk. She wasn't that far away from home…

No. Of course she shouldn't just walk. She wasn't stupid to walk by herself on a Saturday night, dressed like that, after having a few drinks.

Her phone buzzed, the app finally notifying she had a new driver. Leaning against the wall, Maisy sighed. Adam was only thirteen minutes away. Not as fast as she would've liked, but still better than nothing.

Taking in her surroundings, she blocked her phone and kept it tight between her fingers, then placed her arm on top of the other one. Hugging herself. Protecting herself from the coldness. And maybe even from the sadness.

The street was almost empty, only a couple of people standing on the sidewalk just like her, probably waiting to go home. And except for two or three cars rushing by here and there, there were no signs of anyone else driving around the city.

She looked down, and unlocked her phone.

Adam was currently twenty minutes away.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me," she muttered.

"Aha! There you are!"

Maisy moved her eyes up and to the side.

Niall beamed at her, one arm stretched out to keep the front door open.

"Max was just asking about you."

He looked inside the bar for a moment, then back at her, taking a step closer and letting his hand fall to his side. As he walked, though, the door remained open, until Harry walked through it and let it close behind him.

Maisy's lungs froze, and her heart thumped inside her chest.

"Are you leaving?" Niall asked.

Harry's eyes darted to her, and Maisy's eyes darted to Niall.

"Uh, yeah…" She nodded, blocking her phone and holding it tightly into a fist while she squeezed her crossed arms around her body. "I'm just waiting for my Uber."

"Huh." Niall flinched his head back, slightly wrinkling his brows. "Well, just so you know, Max is under the impression he is taking you home…"

Maisy sighed, and rolled her eyes. Unlike Callie, who'd been thrilled about Maisy going out with her boyfriend's best friend, and who thought Harry didn't deserve another single second of her time, Niall knew how guilty and conflicted she'd been feeling about going out with one friend just to get over another one. Even if it had been for only one date, and even if she wasn't planning on doing it again. And even if one friend was nothing like the other.

Because, yes, her friendship with Max was nothing compared to her friendship with Harry, but Maisy supposed Max would be what she considered just a friend to be, and she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings like hers had been hurt.

Although, of course, Max didn't have actual feelings for her, he just fancied her — he fancied her a lot. So badly that he'd spent months waiting for the moment to ask her out. Something Harry had never, ever, cared to do.

Ugh.

"I know," she said, diverting her sight across the street before she gave in to the urge of looking at Harry. "I'm trying to leave before he finds me."

Niall chuckled, and Maisy bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile. It was shitty of her, she knew that, but at that moment she was too tired to care. She planned to text both him and Callie as soon as she got home. And she could've (and would've) done that by then already if the damn driver weren't taking so damn long.

"So," Niall said, "you're not going home with Max?"

Maisy shook her head.

"'Cause you don't want to go with him. Right?"

Pulling her eyebrows together, Maisy glanced at him. Was it really necessary for him to word it out like that? She was ready to call him out for asking such a question, when she caught him looking away from her. And then, out of instinct, she followed his line of vision. And before she could even notice and stop herself, she was looking at Harry as well.

Maisy's world stopped turning. All over again.

Different from them, Harry focused on the front door, moving his jaw and parting his lips as he chewed gum. Silent. Distracted. Hands hidden inside his pockets, shoulders slightly up. Unkempt curls pulled back on the top of his head, clearly getting stuck there after he'd ran his hand through them.

Maisy's belly fluttered. Everything about him was pretty, no wonder why he walked around so confident all the time. As if he owned the space.

She'd always found herself physically attracted to him, but since kissing him it seemed as if she couldn't hold herself anymore. And the fact that she knew so much about him only made it worse. Because there he was, wearing a shirt she loved so much that she'd borrowed it from him multiple times. And a shirt that, if things hadn't changed so much, and if their friendship hadn't been ruined by her stupid feelings, she knew she would've been wearing it right then and there—and then she wouldn't have been feeling so cold.

Damn.

What was he thinking? What was he looking at? Was he paying any attention to their conversation? Was he waiting for someone? Oh God. Was he waiting for… For that girl? Was she going to be forced to watch them leave together? Go home together? Oh no.

No, no, no.

Please, no.

Where the hell was Adam?

Maisy glanced at her phone just as it buzzed in her hand. She read the notification, dropping her shoulders and closing her eyes.

"C'mon," she murmured, taking her free hand up to her face and pinching her forehead. "Fuck."

She was so tired. All the fun she'd had with her friends came to an end the moment she saw Harry and that girl talking, and she didn't deserve to have to stand there and watch even more of that. Or to have to hide from her friends. Or to have to stand by herself on a cold night in the middle of the street. All she wanted was to go home, hide under the blankets, and cry.

"Isy, hey," Niall called, his voice much softer and closer than before. He stood next to her with worry in his eyes, grabbing her shoulder and letting go of whatever he was saying before. "What's wrong?"

Maisy shook her head, taking her hand away from her face and wiping a tear from under her eye. No more crying Maisy. No more crying.

"Nothing… Just…" She blinked, then stared at her phone. "My uber. He canceled."

"Ok…" Niall tilted his head, trying to get her attention. Or maybe trying to get a look at her face. Or maybe trying to read her emotions. Or maybe just trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "Can't you just get another one?"

"Well," she muttered, peering at him through the corner of her eyes whilst sliding her thumb across the screen. "I'm not stupid, am I?"

Niall frowned. "No, I—"

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the past twenty minutes?"

"Sorry, I—"

"I can give you a ride," Harry said.

Both Maisy and Niall jolted, then turned their heads to look at him. Although he kept his distance, Harry had gotten noticeably closer as well, standing only a few inches behind his friend. Niall seemed to notice that, too, taking a step aside and dropping Maisy's shoulder as he turned to give him some space.

And then, as Harry fixed his forest-green eyes into hers, and as Maisy kept her head turned to the side and stared back at him, the entire world seemed to — once again — stop around her. There was nothing but empty and silent distance standing between them, and every nerve in her body seemed to tingle. Desperate to run towards him. Desperate to say yes and let him not only take her home but also make her a cup of tea before going to bed. Desperate to let him wrap his arms around her and fall asleep breathing into her neck as if that was something just friends normally did.

She squeezed her phone between her fingers, tightly, and made sure to hold as much air as possible in her lungs. Because she truly missed him. She missed being his friend, she missed talking to him, she missed answering his calls. She missed making him laugh, and she missed feeling silly next to him. She missed being able to be near him whenever she wanted to, and she missed hugging him just because she could.

But she also really wanted him. And although she had always wanted him, now it was definitely worse. Almost unbearable. Because now, as she looked at his pinkish and soft lips, she also missed feeling them against the curve of her neck. And as she admired his growing facial hair, she also missed feeling the scratchiness under the palm of her hands as she cradled his cheeks and kissed the hell out of him. And as her body quivered under the intensity of his green gaze, she missed the tingling between her legs caused by the strong grip of his manly hands.

Maisy hadn't been able to taste all of him, but she'd tasted enough to be scarred for the rest of her life. And it hurt to know he didn't want her back. It really did.

"Shit," Niall cursed, then coughed.

Maisy blinked, finally breaking away from the spell Harry had put her under and facing forward, where her friend was supposed to be. When she didn't find him, though, she straightened up and stepped away from the wall, scanning around the street.

"Where—"

"I forgot my jacket!" Niall shouted.

Following his voice, she got a glimpse of him behind Harry, by the front door, already taking a step into the club.

"Be right back guys!"

And just like that the door closed, and there was nobody else around.

Nobody but her.

And him.

Nobody but them.

Emptiness dropped in the pit of her stomach, and her chest tightened.

Shit.

She took a deep breath in, folding her arms and rubbing her forearm with her free hand. She didn't know where to look. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to say. Her heart was racing, and she could feel her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Was she supposed to just stand there?!

Peeking at him, she could only see his back. Harry stood ahead of her and to her side, facing the door where Niall had just walked through. Frozen. Hands still inside his pockets, but shoulders more relaxed than before.

Second went by as silence completely engulfed them. But then he chuckled, looking down and shaking his head while his shoulders moved up and down.

The sound hit Maisy's brain first, and then it bounced to her chest, suddenly reminding her to breathe again. Her lips curved up, and she licked them before swallowing her feelings down her throat. That was not the time, nor place, to find joy in the sound of his laughter.

Harry turned around, still laughing.

"What?" she asked — although she wasn't expecting to.

"It's just…" He covered his face with one hand, then slid it up his forehead and ran his fingers through his curls. Calming himself down. "Niall."

"Oh…" She furrowed her brows. "Okay?"

"I mean," he added, dropping his hand back down and looking at her. Beaming. Glowing. "He's so fucking stupid. I just remembered he didn't even bring a jacket."

Maisy widened her eyes, then she nodded. "Ohhh…"

Although she didn't want to, she couldn't help but laugh, too. Maybe not out of happiness, but because Niall could be really silly when he wanted to be. And maybe because it was nice that Harry had felt comfortable enough to share that with her. Maybe because finally, after weeks, they were finally sharing a nice moment together.

Although, of course, that didn't erase the fact that things weren't okay between them.

She faced forward, across the street and away from him, shaking her head while her entire body shivered.

"How subtle," she added, placing her folded arms over her stomach and smashing her phone into her side. She still hadn't tried to find another driver, and although she knew she should've, she didn't want to take the risk of having to walk away from him. Not so soon. Not right then.

"Right?"

The smile was obvious in his voice, and Maisy was just so hyper-aware of his every moment. Of every detail. Absorbing way more than she'd ever absorbed before. Feeling him way more than she'd ever felt him before.

And Harry didn't make it easy, because he didn't stop moving. He shuffled on his feet, stepping closer while shoving both hands back into his pockets. He breathed in, then heavily breathed out, taking his time to walk until he was in front of her and she didn't have a choice but to look at him.

He buried his hypnotizing eyes into hers, and Maisy curled her toes inside her boots — desperate to stay grounded and hold her balance.

Harry didn't look happy, he didn't look mad, and he didn't look sad.

He looked honest, he looked available, and he looked familiar.

He looked like her best friend.

And it hurt, because there was nothing Maisy wanted more than to go back to what they were before, but as they both stood like that for a moment — silently watching each other, and silently waiting for each other — she realized that it was something she would never get to have again.

How could she? If she wasn't able to be around him without hiding her feelings anymore? If she wouldn't be able to see him dating someone — falling in love with someone — without feeling betrayed and heartbroken? Maybe she'd misinterpreted his actions before, but now that she knew he didn't feel the same way, it wouldn't be fair to hold it against him. She needed to grow out of her feelings, and in order to do so things needed to change. She wouldn't be able to keep interacting with him like she did before.

"I meant it, you know?" he said, pulling her out of her mind. "About giving you a ride home."

Maisy blinked.

"Thank you," she murmured, shuffling on her feet and shrugging. "I'm just… I don't know if that's a good idea."

Harry nodded. He looked down and between their feet, then back into her eyes.

"Just so you know," he said, leaving all traces of playfulness behind, "I'm not leaving with her."

Maisy pulled her eyebrows together, and it took her another pause until she could open her mouth and ask, "W—what?"

"I know you saw me talking to that girl, the one from that night," he explained, taking a short step towards her, "but nothing happened between me and her. And nothing was going to. I swear."

Maisy blinked.

"Oh, okay."

There was a pause.

A pause in which, against her better judgment, she didn't avoid the intensity of his eyes. And a pause in which, as seconds went by, she was easily consumed by the calmness, the confidence, and the assurance he exuded.

Still, it was hard to figure out what was happening, or where he was trying to get to. She tried to read his expression, tried to understand his emotions, tried to get a sense of his thoughts. But she couldn't. So she asked, "Why?"

Harry slid his tongue between his lips, then tilted his head. "Why?"

"Yeah…" Maisy shrugged. "I mean, you were really into her, so… Why?"

He curled his mouth into a timid smile, breathing out his answer as if he couldn't believe he had to say that out loud, "Isy… I was an asshole and hurt your feelings because I wasn't aware of things, but I would never do that knowing—"

"Oh my—"

"—what I know now and—"

"Stop." She raised her hand, the one still gripping that stupid phone, and Harry closed his mouth. "You don't—" She took a deep breath, putting her thoughts in order. "You don't need to stop yourself just because I have feelings for you."

"No, I know. I—"

"Harry, look," she said, putting her hand down and taking a step back from him. "I never meant for you not to go out with her, ok? Or anyone else, for that matter… I can't stop you from fancying people... So if you want to be with her, I mean, you don't need to stop yourself just… Just because you feel sorry for me, okay?"

He closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath, then dropped his head back and looked at the sky for a moment. He didn't have to say anything for her to know that he was thinking about her words, and that he was taking them in before saying something back to her.

Maybe that's why Maisy didn't rush him. And why she distracted herself by watching the way his throat flexed when he swallowed, and the way he softly moved his jaw as he chewed his gum. His facial hair was always kind of longer on his neck, and also kind of messier — something she tended to forget, because it wasn't really noticeable unless he threw his head back. Just like then.

"I know that," he said, once again pulling her out of her mind. "Sorry."

She blinked, watching with blurry eyes as he rolled his shoulders and fixed his eyes back on hers.

"That came out wrong and it wasn't actually answering your question. I didn't walk away from her because I felt sorry for you. I walked away from her because I didn't want to stay there, because I wasn't—I mean, because I'm not interested."

"Oh…" Maisy barely whispered, his words echoing inside her. Then what… What was he doing? What was she supposed to do with that information? What difference did it make? She breathed out through her nose and licked her lips, squishing her eyebrows together and flinching her head back slightly. "Then why… Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know. I guess…" he said into her eyes, pausing to close his mouth and chew his gum as he took a tiny step closer to her. "I guess I just want to make sure you don't leave tonight thinking something happened between me and her. Because it didn't, and it won't. Not her, not anyone else."

Speechless and breathless, Maisy remained lost inside his eyes. It was hard to make sense of what he was saying, and it was even harder to understand if he meant something else between the lines. Was he making sure she wouldn't cry when she got home? Was he simply protecting a friend? Or was he hoping for something more?

She shook her head and took a step back. See? She couldn't do that. She couldn't be his friend when she would be constantly hoping for something more to be in between the lines. That wasn't healthy. And it wasn't fair. "I— I can't… I—"

"Wait, no!" He took a step forward and raised one arm, then immediately dropped it back to his side. Closing his hand into a fist and opening it up again, he softened the tone of his voice and pleaded, "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know what to do or… Or what to say to make things right. I don't want to overstep, but I also don't want you to think I don't care about losing you, because I do. I care so much, Isy… And it's been killing me."

"I hate this," she said, dropping her chin down and hiding her face behind her hands. Everything hurt — her stomach hurt, her chest hurt, her head hurt. "I didn't… I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want this to happen."

And then, she cried.

"It wasn't… It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Gimme that," he murmured, closing off the distance and taking her phone away from her hand—and from her face. Maisy sobbed, and tears fell down, but she also chuckled, because even amidst everything, Harry was still the same friend who would point out how it wasn't his fault that her bags were too small to carry her things, and yet would always end up keeping whatever she needed safe into his pockets anyway.

"I know, ok? I know," he added, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to fully cry into his chest. "And I'm sorry, ok?" He placed his cheek on the side of her head, speaking into her ear. "I really am. I'm the one who messed everything up and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you cry. And I'm sorry for all the times I made you feel less important than you actually are."

Warmth filled up her body, and she sobbed again, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter while pressing her forehead against her hands, and her hands against his chest.

"There are so many things I should've done differently when it comes to us… I know that. And I'm sorry, ok? I am. I don't want to lose you, Isy. I really want to fix this. Please let me try to fix it."

Maisy breathed out through her nose and nodded, letting her hands fall from her face and throwing her arms around his waist.

"Jesus fucking Christ thanks God," Harry instantly breathed out, smashing her even tighter into him and pushing them both towards the wall.

She blinked her eyes open and chuckled, letting more tears fall down and sniffing while turning her head to the side and pressing her ear against his chest. They both shuffled and stumbled, trying to keep up with their clumsy tiny steps until her back hit the wall. Harry stopped and sighed, and Maisy felt every bit of the relief rushing through him — the way he heavily moved his chest up and down, the way he shivered, the way he squeezed her. It was contagious, and it had her sighing as well. Loosening up all the tension. Melting into him.

"I missed you," he whispered, taking one hand to her head and threading his fingers through her hair.

He stroked her scalp — just like she loved — and Maisy bit her lip, closing her eyes while getting drunk on his cologne. That was exactly where she wanted to be. How she wanted to be. With his heart thumping loudly into her ear, his warmth enveloping her body, his masculine and strong scent filling her lungs.

Sniffing again, she took one hand up to her face and wiped under her nose, exhaling a groan through her mouth. "Ugh… I'm a mess."

"I don't care."

Maisy rolled her eyes, rubbing her cheeks as best as she could while still caged inside his arms. "But I do."

"Shhhh…" He swagged them gently, then grabbed her wrist and took it back around his waist. "Got a lot of fixing to do, I know. But I missed this, so let me enjoy it."

She sighed, holding her own forearms as she rested her arms on his lower back. No matter how hard she tried to be mad at him, she didn't feel like she actually could. Harry had overreacted and hurt her feelings, sure, but it had been the first and only slip in a friendship that had already lasted five years. He was a great guy, and she knew that — of course Maisy knew that. And maybe that is why the words ended up rolling out of her mouth so naturally when she said, "I missed this, too."

"Yeah?" He scratched the back of her head with his short nails, then kissed her hair. "Do you think…" — another kiss, and another one— "Do you think you'll be able to forgive me?"

Hadn't she already?

"I don't…" She cleared her throat, getting rid of the scratchiness from her previous crying. Staring ahead to the empty street, she nuzzled against his chest, then started again. "I don't think it's about forgiveness… I think… I think I just need time."

"Right," Harry murmured, and a moment of silence lingered between them. "Time for what, exactly?"

"It's just… You already know how I feel about you, and I don't think I can be your friend right now."

"Why not?"

"Harry." She rolled her eyes and pulled away, tilting her chin up to look at him while he followed her lead and angled his head down to look at her. He was close — really close — and she had to withdraw her arms from his back to be able to create some more distance between them.

Harry moved, too, letting her go and taking half a step back.

And Maisy hated it.

She wanted to be glued to him all over again.

"Don't make this even harder than it needs to be," she added.

"I'm sorry, I'm not… I'm not trying to make this harder. I just want to understand, that's all."

"Is it really that hard to understand that I can't be your friend when I have feelings for you?"

Harry frowned. "To be honest, yes. Why can't we be friends?"

"Oh my God," she laughed, but mostly because she couldn't believe how dense he was. If what he needed was for her to spell it out to him, then she would, but only because she couldn't handle all the weirdness and the running around circles anymore. "Harry, you're not just a friend to me, ok? And when I say that I have feelings for you, that means that I want you, ok? I want you so much Harry, and I can't stop thinking about it. It's like… It's like I can't pretend that I don't anymore because that's all I think about. All the time. Every time I look at you I can't stop thinking about how much I want to be with you, and every time I see you with a girl I can't stop thinking about how much I wish that was me. And maybe it was fine before, but we kissed and now… Now I just… I just can't, ok? That's why I need some time. Because I can't pretend anymore and I can't—"

"Then don't." He stepped closer again, instantly placing his palms on her cheeks and cradling her face.

Staring into her eyes, Harry was so filled with emotions and so determined to hold her close that her body quivered. And her belly fluttered. And her heart sped up.

Maisy blinked. "What?"

"Don't pretend you don't." he said, not even once faltering his gaze away from hers. "Let me know how much you want me. I wanna know, ok? I want to know how I make you feel. And I want to keep making you feel this way for me. Or more, or better, I don't know. I just… I want all of this with you. I want you, ok?"

With widened eyes, Maisy breathed in and out through her nose. Quickly. Shortly. Desperately. Making her chest go up and down erratically.

"I…"

No more words came out of her brain, and Maisy froze like that. Blinking at him with parted lips and out of breath.

Harry's eyes flicked to her mouth, then traveled back to her eyes. With featherly touches, he brushed his thumbs up and down her cheeks, then bowed closer.

"So don't stay away," he murmured, glancing at her lips once more before closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together. "Don't take some time. And don't stop thinking about me. Yeah? I didn't react properly the first time, but I love the fact that you have feelings for me. Don't get rid of them, please."

She grabbed his wrists, keeping his touch in place while closing her eyes, too. "Please don't… Don't say those things if you don't mean them."

He shook his head, and his nose nudged hers.

"You know I wouldn't," he said, breathing warmly into her face. "I would never—I want you, Isy. I want you and I want you way more than just a friend."

And just like that first time, back at her place, Maisy knew it was about to happen. It was written all over him, and it burned inside her. It made her tremble—out of excitement, out of nervousness, out of fear, and out of anticipation.

So she squeezed his wrists, and fluttered her eyes open.

"Let's…" She swallowed, aware of the closeness between them. "Let's get out of here."

Still leaning into her forehead with his eyes open, Harry nodded. He took another moment to breathe in deeply, then opened his eyes, too.

"Ok," he said, drawing sweet circles around her cheekbones before dropping his hands off her face. He met her palms in the process, though, and they automatically held each other, intertwining their fingers together while stepping away from the wall. "C'mon, then."

"Niall's going home with Eileen and Josh," Harry said, putting his phone back into his pocket. He threw his arm over Maisy's shoulder and looked side to side, then pulled her closer and guided her to cross the street along with him. "So we're good to go."

Maisy bit her lip and nodded, placing one arm around his waist while holding his hand on her shoulder with the other one.

Harry had told her he'd parked around the corner and further down the street, and although he'd already driven Maisy home many-multiple-hundred-thousands of times, and for many-multiple-hundred-thousands reasons, it was safe to say she'd never felt that much anticipation about being alone inside his car with him.

"By the way," he said, leaning to kiss the top of her head and speaking into her hair, "remind me to get him a bottle of something, yeah? Feel like I owe him big time."

She smiled, turning her head to nuzzle into their touching shoulders as Harry took his free hand to the back of her head and stroked her gently. He chuckled and kissed her hair one more time, then faced forward when she did, and dropped his hand to meet her one on his waist. After that, he didn't say anything, neither pressured her to say something back to him, walking in silence as they both hurried to reach their destination.

It was weird, the apparent sudden need they had to be close to each other. To touch each other. Hands grabbing hands, arms giving hugs, sides touching sides. As if they needed reassurance of each other's presence. Or as if they wanted to make sure they wouldn't vanish.

It'd started as soon as they'd walked away from the club, when they failed so badly at keeping any distance that they kept constantly stumbling into each other's feet. They eventually found a rhythm and a way to hold each other that suited both of them, but that need to stay close (close, close, close) didn't change as seconds—and then minutes—went by. It didn't change when Harry walked to a trash can to spit his gum, and even less when he took his shirt off and placed it over her cold shoulders. It also didn't change when Harry slowed down to get the keys from his pocket, nor when he opened the door of the passenger side for her to get inside.

"So…" he said, placing his hands on her hips and guiding her to stand between him and the opened door, "Where am I taking you now?"

She placed her hands on his chest, now covered only by his white t-shirt, and tilted her head to look up at him. Harry wanted her. He'd said so, and she didn't think he would ever lie to her—not about something like that, at least. And yet, her mind couldn't stop wondering. So instead of guessing the answer, she decided to openly ask him.

"Do you still mean the things you said?"

Harry nodded. "Every single word."

"About everything? I mean, do you really want me?"

Curling his mouth into a smile, he sneaked his hands under her shirt—his shirt—and slid his arms around her waist, resting them on her lower back and right above the curve of her bum.

"I really, really want you, Isy," he said, straight into her eyes.

"Why? What changed?"

"Nothing changed," he eagerly answered, and then he slowed down a bit. "I think… I just… I don't know."

He dipped his chin down and drew his sight off from her eyes, then shuffled slightly on his feet. "I think I just wasn't able to put two and two together by myself… That's all."

He shrugged, and Maisy bit the insides of her bottom lip.

In five years, she had never pictured a less confident side of him. Harry was the kind of guy that always managed to be proud of himself, and that always found a positive outcome in every situation. All the time. Even in his most embarrassing moments. So it was honestly weird to see him act like that.

At the same time, the prospect of having new things to learn about him felt really nice. And exciting. Something she wouldn't be able to do if she didn't lay all of her cards on the table. Right there and then.

"That day…" she said, pausing to lick her lips and breathe in. Gathering the strength to point out the thing that had hurt her the most. "Harry, that day you really made me feel like I was getting in your way of—"

"Ugh. I know—"

"—being with that girl and—"

"—I know. I'm sorry, 'm sorry."

He grunted and cursed, pulling her closer and hiding on the curve of her neck. And Maisy let him, closing her mouth and listening to whatever he had to say. Just like she had done that other night.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated. "I don't… I don't have any excuses for the way I reacted. I know that. I—Fuck." Pulling away to look into her eyes again, he took one hand off from her back and placed it on her cheek, tenderly but firmly holding her as he kept talking. "It caught me off guard and I… I fucked up, I know. But I would choose you over absolutely anyone and everyone, Isy. Anytime. No doubts."

His words hit deeply inside her, and a warm glow flowed all over her. A joyful glow. As if her body had burst with bright, sparkling, and multicolored bubbles.

So she bit her lip, and twisted the neckline of his t-shirt around her fingers.

It was hard to know what was the right thing to do. Rationally, her mind told her to not make it so easy for him. To give it some time, and see if he was actually telling the truth. If he actually meant it.

On the other hand, despite everything, her heart knew what it wanted. She believed his words, she believed he wouldn't intentionally hurt her, and she believed people deserved the benefit of the doubt. More than anything, she also wanted to believe that if she ever made a mistake, the people that she cared about would give her a second chance. So why couldn't she do the same?

"I know," she said, so softly she wasn't even sure he would be able to hear her. But then Harry brushed his thumb on her cheekbone, acknowledging her words, and she immediately kept going. "And I believe you're sorry. I do. I just… I think I'm scared, or… I don't know. I convinced myself you didn't want to be with me in that way, so… I don't know…" She shook her head. "I don't know."

He nodded, drawing gentle circles on her cheek. "Niall said… He said something about how you don't think I'm attracted to you, is that true?"

Maisy widened her eyes. "Oh my God! Niall told you that?"

"I mean—"

"What else did he say?!"

"Nothing! He just—"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!"

Harry pursed his lips, and then laughed.

"It's not funny!"

She pinched the exposed skin on his chest, and Harry jolted.

"Ouch!" He looked back at her with both a frown and a smile on his face. "What was that for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe for yelling at me for talking to Niall instead of talking to you? And then you talking to Niall instead of talking to me?"

"Right… Ok, yes. I can see you have a point there, but in my defense—"

"There's no defense!" She pinched him (again), and Harry jolted (again). He took the hand on her face to rub the new stinging inch of skin on his chest, smiling while she kept lashing out at him. "Can't believe you two, honestly! Dickheads! Gossiping like two little—"

"Ok," he said, taking his index finger to her mouth and pressing it into her lips. "Listen to me, woman."

Maisy narrowed her eyes at him, but she suddenly didn't have anything else to say, so she exhaled heavily through her nose and consented to his demand (albeit silently and annoyingly).

"Good." Staring into her eyes, he slid the pad of his finger side to side, slightly brushing it to her parted lips. "Niall was just calling me out for not letting you know how I feel, ok? That's all."

Harry glanced at her mouth, then switched his index finger with his thumb. The place he both touched and stared at seemed to buzz, and heat bloomed through her cheeks. From then on, no matter how much she tried to keep paying attention to his explanation, she simply couldn't put the information together anymore.

"Told me you didn't think I fancy you," he added, just as entranced with the movement of his thumb as she felt, "and that you couldn't read my mind, so if I wanted things to change…"

He put more pressure to his finger and pushed his way between her lips, bumping into her teeth. "I had to show you."

Intoxicated and absorbed, Maisy bit into his short nail, holding him there.

Harry smirked, and met her eyes once again. "Or something like that…"

It was hard to tell what was going through Maisy's mind, then. Mostly because she couldn't care less about her rational thoughts anymore. She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to know about Niall's suggestions—or whatever he said—and she didn't want to hear Harry's apologies anymore. All she wanted was to feel, so that's exactly what she did.

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she leaned in, then slithered her teeth through his nail, stopping where the skin of his thumb began. His fingertip rested on the tip of her tongue, and her belly quivered and swirled in expectation of his reaction.

To her delight, Harry sank his shoulders and gawked at her. Some new, dazzling determination took over him, and even his eyes seemed to darken as he shifted his arm around her lower back and pulled her closer. Gripping at her side with one hand, he moved his other one and got deeper into her mouth, pressing his thumb in, in, in, until her teeth clamped around his first knuckle.

Maisy molded her lips around his shortest and chubbiest digit, keeping it locked between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She tasted him softly, running slow circles with her tongue while still watching him. Harry faintly smirked, so much that it was almost undetectable, and she took that as a challenge. Because she wanted more. She wanted more reactions, and she wanted more actions. So she placed both of her hands around his wrist and closed her eyes, then sucked his finger in.

Harry stiffened at first, and then he cursed, breathing out heavily through his mouth while taking a tiny step forward and spreading his other four fingers open on her face.

"Damn, Isy…" he murmured.

The admiration, pride, and approval in his voice cracked something inside her, and a very familiar feeling pulsed through her veins. It made her go all slippery and quivery. And it brought wet heat between her legs.

Bold and fearless, Maisy swirled her tongue and hummed. Making it dirtier than it needed to be. Making it louder. Making it wetter.

And he didn't seem to mind it. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it just as much and encouraged her to go even further, moving his thumb side to side while digging his other four fingers into the skin of her cheek and neck.

It was so good. So unexpected. And so desperate.

To put so much energy into something like sucking a finger. To feel herself going mindless as she tightened his wrist between her hands and brought him closer, then sucked him deeper. Breathing in and out through her nose, then completely forgetting about their surroundings and pushing her head down to fit his whole finger inside. And losing herself as she sucked. And sucked. All over again.

"Jesus Christ," Harry murmured, backing her into the back door of his car, tilting her head up and pulling his thumb off from her mouth. "That's enough."

Everything happened so fast, that before she could even process the information or blink her eyes open, Harry had already pressed his lips to hers in a desperate move.

They first met awkwardly and clumsily, hitting each other's cheeks and chins. But then Harry cradled her jaw and kept her in place, taking the lead and capturing her lips for a much hungrier and experienced kiss.

A soft tingle ran between her legs, and Maisy moaned softly, so softly she barely even noticed it. She dragged her hands up to his shoulders, then to his neck, and to the back of his head. Harry hummed, and she threaded her fingers between his curls and tugged, standing on her tiptoes and parting her lips to take things further. Searching for his tongue while he searched for hers. Tasting each other with the same devotion and effort she had just tasted his thumb. Moving in perfect sync, and making sure to taste every corner and every inch.

Harry dropped his hand from her face to her bum, giving it a rough and forceful squeeze and sucking all the air around them through his nose.

Maisy hummed, holding onto his hair tightly as she rolled her hips forward. Harry smirked into the kiss, then slid his other arm down, filling both of his hands with her ass. He squeezed her again, this time digging his nails into both of her cheeks and pulling her forward while he also stepped closer, and finally fully pressing their hips together.

His growing bulge nudged between her legs, and a gasped moan came out of her throat.

"Fuck," he breathed out, breaking the kiss to roll his hips on hers.

"Oh God…" she sighed, taking the opportunity to drag her wet lips to his jaw. That was so embarrassing. Maisy had to stop. She really had to stop. She needed to stop. They both needed to stop. And yet she couldn't. She didn't want to. Because Harry was getting hard while making out with her. She could feel him pressed against her hips and she didn't want to lose the feeling. She didn't want to step away. So she didn't. She moved her mouth thoughtlessly, instead, savoring as much as she could of him. Feeling his stubble under her tongue, and his scent under her nose.

"Fuck," he murmured, timidly rubbing himself up and down her front. "That's…" He swallowed. "Feels good, baby."

Maisy hummed, mapping kisses from his jaw, to his ear. She tangled her fingers around his curls, holding her weight while speaking softly and as close to him as she could. "Take me home, Haz."

"Mhmm…" Harry nodded, his hair brushing her temple.

She moved back towards his cheek, leaving a wet trail behind while making his mouth her final destination.

"Please?" she asked, then kissed him shortly.

"Sure." He nodded again, leaning in— "Anything you want." —and kissing her again.

Maisy smiled. The way he seemed enraptured by her was cute and sweet, but also extremely arousing. She could only imagine the things they would do under the influence of that dynamic, and she couldn't wait to find out. But the only way she would be able to do all the things she wanted to do was if they weren't standing in the middle of the street, only two blocks and a half away from their friends. So she sucked his bottom lip and pulled away, letting it slide softly between her teeth while stroking his scalp.

"Now," she whispered, watching him stand there, at her mercy, with closed eyes and parted mouth. "Take me home, Harry, please."

He opened his eyes.

"Wha—" He licked his lips, and shook his head. "I mean, yes." Out of breath, he nodded once, and then twice, and then thrice. "Yeah. Ok. Home. Yes."

Maisy giggled. Still caressing the back of his head, she flinched her chin back and pulled away slightly, only to be able to watch him better. "You okay?"

"Dunno. Think 'm high right now."

She frowned, holding herself from laughing any louder than she should. "High?!"

"Mhm. Pretty sure I got high from your kisses."

"Oh my God." Maisy snorted. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him off, but his hands on her ass didn't allow her to put any actual distance between them.

"Think I developed an addiction—"

"Shut up."

"—and your mouth is my drug—"

" — Harry! — "

" — I need more — "

" — You're ridiculous—"

" — Gimme more — "

He kissed her again, and although Maisy couldn't stop laughing at how lame and silly he was, she still kissed him back. He smirked, seemingly proud of her reaction, then moved his large hand to her face and cradled her cheek, leading the way into a much slower and tender pace. His mouth was suddenly gentle, moving carefully while discovering a new side of their relationship. Not a desperate and hungry version, like it'd been up until then, but a smooth and thoughtful one. Made of sweet and calm kisses. Of gentle pecks, and timid tugs. Of wet lips, and honest affection.

Eventually, their eagerness toned down, dissolving into a different kind of longing for each other. Less desperate on one hand, but much more intense on the other.

Harry sighed, then broke off the kiss.

"Let's go," — he pecked her lips one — "then." — two — "Let's go home." — three — "Mine," — four times — "Or yours?"

One last kiss, lingering longer than the others, and Maisy finally blinked her eyes open. Harry's hand was warm on her cheek, and she felt herself needily nuzzling against it. She took a minute to catch her breath, and also to adjust to the dim lights, taking the opportunity to meet his touch with her own hand and turning her face just enough to press a kiss to his palm. Then, she whispered, "Yours… Take me back to yours."

He leaned in to kiss her temple, then brushed his lips on her skin as he spoke. "Back to mine it is, then."

— — — — —

In five years, Harry had already driven Maisy home, to the grocery store, to parties, from parties, to work, from work, to the hospital, to Niall's, and even back to her parents house.

In the process, Maisy had watched him a lot. She had watched him enough to memorize the way he would spread his legs and switch his foot between pedals, the way he would relax into the car seat and blindly shift gears, or the way he would place his elbow by the window and hold the steering wheel with one hand. More than not, she'd admired him secretly, too pent-up to say anything, and too afraid to let him show how much he affected her. Only a few times she had been brave enough to praise him out loud, although usually hiding behind some joke about how much he tried to look cool while driving, and never admitting how deeply attracted to him she actually felt.

That day though, as he drove them back to his apartment, whilst everything seemed to be still the same between them, everything seemed to be just as different and new. Because now, while she watched him turn the steering wheel, she also couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened in the middle of the street. And now, as she watched him flex his arms and shift gears, she also couldn't stop thinking about the feeling that kept dripping out between her legs.

"You're staring," Harry said, stopping at the traffic light. He turned his head to the side and smiled, sliding his now free hand against hers and intertwining their fingers once again.

Biting her lip, Maisy tried her best not to beam at him. It was useless, though, and her mouth ended up curling into the biggest and most genuine grin.

"I am," she laughed, then shrugged. "You look hot when you drive."

Harry widened his eyes, but there was a twinkle behind his gaze that made her feel comfortable about his reaction. As if the shock of her words did nothing but please him.

"Hot?" He squeezed her palm. "You think?"

Maisy nodded.

"I do, yeah… It's just… Hard to look away."

"Hmm…" Slowly, he let go of her hand, then placed his palm on her thigh, spreading his fingers open and digging them slightly into her flesh. "Keep looking, then."

Heat spread under her skin, and goosebumps rose all over. Harry's hand was large and heavy, and it covered so much of her leg that it was hard not to pay attention to it, or to ignore how close it was to a place she didn't think he would ever actually be. And yet a place that he had teased just minutes earlier. A place that he had rolled and pressed himself against. A place that he had fully woken up that night.

And judging by the way he grasped her in that exact moment, and by the way he had touched her earlier—so thirsty to squeeze and press her closer—Maisy knew he would be good at… Everything. She knew he would be the one to match the expectations no other guy had been able to match up until then. And she knew that he would be the one to set her body on a whole new level of fire. Not because other guys hadn't been good—after all she'd had some pretty great sexual experiences in her life—but because he was different to her. They felt different.

And she wanted to get a taste of that. She wanted to have him. She wanted him to touch her. And she wanted it all right now.

"Ugh." Maisy shuffled on the passenger seat and looked away from him, watching the empty street and covering the back of his hand with her palm. "Why is your place so far away?"

Harry smirked, and although she couldn't see him, she could feel the burning of his eyes all over her chest.

"It's not, actually," he said, so low and so husky that it felt almost calculated. As if he knew the effect it would have on her. "I think you're just eager to get there."

He squeezed her thigh, getting his fingertips just a little bit deeper into her, and Maisy faced him again.

If he wanted to play that game, then she would play it just as well.

Staring into his eyes, she scooched down a little, then dragged his hand along with hers. Sliding it just an inch up through her thigh. "I think I am, yes."

His gaze faltered for a moment, dropping down to where she was guiding their touch. Maisy bit her lip, enjoying his attentiveness, and kept moving their hands, stopping only when his pinky finger reached the crease between her thigh and her pelvis. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed her body, pinching her flesh with his fingers.

Maisy sighed, hypnotized on how pretty and hot and cute and manly he looked. All at the same time.

"Aren't you?" she asked, making sure her voice acted as a mirror of her current feelings, and sharing with him the sensual and confident side of her. One she had never been able to show him before, but was dying to.

Harry licked his lips and exhaled through his nose, then looked back at her face. He blinked a couple of times, then asked, "Hm? Am I what?"

Holding back a smile, she slid her fingers up his wrist, freeing his hand from her touch at the same time she brought her other hand around and placed it on her other inner thigh.

"Eager," she murmured. She squeezed her own leg, just like he'd done it before, and made her way up to the place her body most wanted him to be. "To get home… And touch me."

"Jesus Christ." Harry looked between her legs and swallowed, sinking his nails so deeply into her flesh that Maisy couldn't help but hiss at the pain.

Moving her palm from her inner thigh to the back of his hand, she finally directed him to her burning and aching center. She circled her other fingers around his forearm, holding tightly onto him, and rolled her hips timidly, subtly. Almost as if she didn't want him to see it—but also making sure he would not only see it, but that he would also feel it.

"I want you to touch me," she murmured, rolling her hips for a second time.

He dug the heel of his palm between her legs, then pressed his fingertips onto her center. "I can see that."

"You don't want to?"

Harry glared at her. Something seemed to have snapped inside him, and his voice got darker when he asked, "What do you think?"

Maisy shrugged, trying hard to create complete, full, coherent sentences while Harry's hand was finally there. "I hope you do. And that I'm not embarrassing myself."

He stroked his fingers through her wetness, curling his fingers and meeting his own palm as he grabbed between her legs—so harshly and so firmly that Maisy closed her eyes and squirmed on the passenger seat. She gasped quietly, leaning into his arm and pressing her forehead near his shoulder. Fully letting him take over the situation.

"I like this side of you." He loosened up his fingers, then moved them up and down, over and over again, spreading her wetness as best as he could despite the layers of clothes that covered her. "Almost made me lose my game over there. But look at you now… Did you always feel like this?"

"Oh God," she mouthed onto his bicep. The fabric of her pants, plus her thong, didn't allow her to feel him properly, but she felt enough to quiver from head to toe, and enough to make her want more.

She spread her legs wider, and Harry increased the pressure and speed of his stroke, moving his fingers faster and more forcefully.

"Tell me, did you always feel like this when I drove you places?" he insisted. "Did I always make you this wet?"

Maisy nodded, and grunted.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know it's—It's kinda inappropriate, isn't it? I—Sorry—"

"Shh,shhh… It's not." Harry rubbed her covered entrance in circles. Quick circles, experienced circles, making her get wetter and wetter. "Wish I knew sooner, that's all."

He focused on performing his task with only one finger, then, pressing it between her lips and then rubbing circles in search for that spot that would drive her insane. As soon as he found it, Maisy jolted and moaned, unable to contain herself anymore.

Still holding onto his arm, she recovered the strength on her other hand, covering his knuckles and fingers and guiding his touch once again. She helped him so he could touch her like she wanted him to, so he could keep pressing and stroking her exactly where she needed him to, and before she could notice it, she was fully rolling her hips on their connected hands. Searching for more friction. Desperate for relief.

Harry groaned, and she arched her back. He pressed faster, and faster. And she was there. Almost there. So, so, so almost there.

She just needed some more rolling, just like that, some more gasping, oh God, yes, and then—

And then someone honked behind them.

They both jumped. Maisy pressed her legs together and covered her center with one hand, while Harry straightened up and stretched his arm across her chest—as if that would hide her the flush from her cheeks, or the desperation from her breath, or the lust from her eyes.

The car behind them honked again. And again.

"Wha—"

"Green," she breathed out, pointing to the traffic light while her chest moved up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

And the car behind them honked, again.

"Shit," Harry mumbled, letting go of Maisy to shift gears and press the clutch pedal, then easily letting it go again. "Sorry… Sorry."

Still out of breath, she kept her legs pressed together and nodded. "Yeah, I—Yeah…"

He sped up before pressing the clutch pedal and shifting gears again, driving as fast as he could through the city.

Maisy clenched her thighs, then between her legs, and shuffled on her seat.

Peeking at her, Harry sighed.

"Shit. I'm sorry."

Maisy nodded again. How long did they just spend there? Stupidly parked at a traffic light? And how many green lights did they ignore?

"You ok?" he asked, eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel.

She shifted and rearranged herself, feeling the burning desire between her legs turn into sticky coldness.

"Yeah… I just…" Maisy said, watching the neighborhood through the window and chuckling lightly. "I forgot we were there."

"I know, me too," Harry laughed. "Shit. Completely lost track of time, too."

"Mhm."

She laughed.

And then they both laughed.

Peeking at her again, Harry grabbed her hand one more time, pulling it from her lap and taking it to his mouth.

"Don't worry, by the way." He kissed the back of her hand, then took their connected hands to shift gears. "I'll take care of you as soon as we get home."

She smiled, then intertwined her fingers with his. "Mhm. You better."

"Ok," Harry said, turning the steering wheel and straightening out the tires. He put the car into neutral and lifted the handbrake, then took his feet off the pedals and twisted the ignition key. The engine stopped working, but silence didn't have enough time to settle before he tapped her leg twice and spoke again, "Get out."

He stepped out of the car, and Maisy blinked. Smiling to herself, she shook her head and reached to open her door, but Harry was already there, doing the job for her and offering his hand for her to hold.

She narrowed her eyes, and looked up at him.

"C'mon," he said, wiggling his fingers. "Out."

She opened her mouth to call him out for his demanding tone, but ended up snorting and chuckling, instead.

"Well, look who's eager now," she muttered, taking his offer and grabbing his hand, then getting out and stepping aside.

The last five minutes of the drive to his place had been completely silent, and although his promise of taking care of her as soon as they got home lingered between them, all the events of that day had finally started catching up with her brain while Harry's thumb soothed the back of her hand and she watched the streets go by through the window. Tiredness and sleepiness got a hold of her muscles, and her thoughts worked at a much slower pace than before. So whilst she still found herself desperate to get to his apartment, she also wouldn't have complained about taking a short nap first.

"To be fair," he said, "been eager since I first saw you tonight."

He slammed the door shut, and its bang echoed around the parking lot. Maisy looked around, fixing her outfit while Harry moved to stand in front of her. He seemed to be the only neighbor who hadn't been in the building that night, all the other spots already occupied by different types of cars. Other than that, everything was quiet, as if they were the only two people awake in the entire town.

"What happened to building maintenance?" she murmured.

Harry tilted his head and smiled, placing his hands on her hips and caging her between his body and his car. "Building maintenance?"

Looking over his shoulder, Maisy rested her hands on his chest and shrugged. It hadn't always been intense, gray darkness and dim lights, had it? She usually walked into the building through the front door, so she couldn't remember the last time she'd been there, but she was pretty convinced it used to look more appealing than… That.

"Yes. Half of the bulbs are gone," she pointed out.

He lifted his hands to her face, brushing his thumb over her jawline while sliding the other four to the back of her neck. "Are they?"

Guiding her to look at him, he tilted his chin down and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Maisy sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying his softness. "Mhmm…"

He pulled away, only enough to murmur, "Didn't notice."

And then he kissed her again. Curling his mouth around her bottom lip and getting a taste of it, then letting it go and repeating the process with the upper one.

Kind of dizzy, Maisy dropped her palms to his waist, grasping at his t-shirt for some balance just as he tilted her head to the side and drifted his kisses to her cheek.

"It's just…" She swallowed, keeping her eyes shut and focusing on the way his wet lips caressed her skin. "Kinda dark… Isn't it?"

Harry hummed, pressing more and more kisses. He took his time moving towards her ear, meanwhile drawing small circles on her lower jaw and pushing her body against the closed door.

"It is dark, yes," he said, brushing his nose next to her ear and allowing every word to resonate inside her. "Means no one can see us."

Maisy rested her weight on his car, and Harry waved both hands up through her hair, holding it into a ponytail. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled her head back, then moved his kisses down to her neck.

God. That felt good.

Really good.

He kissed her again. And again, and again, and again. Parting his lips slightly and making it wet. Making it sweet. Making it noisy. Hmmmm…

She parted her lips, breathing heavily through her mouth. Heat seemed to rush to every spot he touched, and she could feel her pulse racing in her throat.

So good.

"I mean," she barely managed to say. "Maybe… Someone… Could…"

He hummed again, a little longer this time, letting her know he was listening even though he seemed much more preoccupied about covering her throat with warm, needy and calculated kisses.

"Yes…" He parted his lips wider, pressing them where her neck met her shoulder and sliding his tongue up and down. Wet, and warm. Once, and twice. "Maybe."

Harry knew what he was doing, tracing a dreamy and sensual path from one side to the other with his plump and juicy lips. Sucking slightly even now and then, soothing with his tongue, teasing with his teeth. Using his large hands to tilt her head as he pleased. Letting her know how careful and affectionate he could be, but also showing off his power and strength.

Maisy's heart skipped a beat, and her legs weakened.

"Wanna risk it?" he asked, breathing hot air into her ear.

Twisting her hands around his t-shirt, Maisy opened her eyes. She licked her lips and swallowed, putting herself together and finding the last remains of energy to say something back to him.

Truth be told, there was something about being the only two in that dark parking lot that made her feel excited to keep going. The danger was a turn on, and there was no other person that could ever make her feel as safe as Harry did, so she knew that if there was a time to be brave and risk it all, that would be it.

At the same time, the idea of getting caught by one of his neighbors—people she more than often encountered in the elevator or walking in the hallway—brought nervousness to the pit of her stomach. It was one thing to make out passionately and let others know how much you were into someone, but getting caught naked and mid-orgasm was completely different. At least when it came to Maisy, of course.

"That eager, huh?" she asked, facing the ceiling and waiting for him to tilt her head back down. "Can't even make it to the fourth floor?"

Her question put a smirk on his face, and it granted her wishes, causing Harry to tighten the grip of his fingers and guide her to look at him again.

"That eager, yes." He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose up and down her own. "Can you blame me?"

He let go of her hair and slid his fingers down, brushing the tips on each side of her neck.

"Been thinking about you in this outfit since I first saw you tonight."

He traced her collarbones, then breezed from her shoulders to her forearms, sliding his own shirt off from her arms, and then going all the way back up to her chest once again.

Her flesh prickled at his touch, and a brief shiver rippled through her, causing Harry's smirk to get even wider.

Just like before, his reaction was enough to snap something inside her. Because even though she enjoyed taking orders and being compliant to someone else's wishes, Maisy didn't enjoy giving all her power away. Not all at once, at least.

So she looked down at her own body, let Harry's shirt hang on her elbows, and raised her eyebrows.

"This outfit?" she asked, as if she hadn't bought that top specifically for that night. Or as if she had never heard Harry talking to the boys about bloody gorgeous tits before. Or as if she wasn't proud of the curves she had to offer. Or as if she hadn't hoped of getting his attention when she'd put the pieces together and stared at herself in the mirror earlier in the afternoon.

"Mhmm…" He grabbed the spaghetti straps between his fingers, then followed their path from her shoulders to her chest. "This outfit."

She glanced up again, then watched him carefully and patiently, fluttering her eyelids while drowning her voice in innocence and naivety. "What about it?"

"Do I really need to say it?"

Maisy nodded. "I would like you to, yes."

Harry hummed, and looked down at her chest. He toyed with the thin straps a little longer, hooking each one inside of his fingers and running through them up and down.

If Maisy would've had to guess, she would've thought he was pondering his next words. Weighing them up. Choosing them carefully. Making sure they wouldn't go unnoticed, and therefore making sure she wouldn't go unaffected. She'd seen Harry flirting so many times, that she knew how much liked the thrill of the chase. She'd also shared a lot of conversations with him about the subject, so she knew how much he cared about making other people feel good, even when he knew it wouldn't go further than a one night stand—although even if she hadn't talked to him about it, she knew that making people feel good was a trait that played a huge part in who Harry was; not only when dating or hooking up, but just in general.

"Well," he eventually said, clearing his throat and answering her question. "I mean, I didn't want to be disrespectful at the club, but…"

He moved his hands, leaving the straps of her top behind and tracing its edge instead.

"To be completely honest…" He brushed the tips of his index and middle fingers across her cleavage. Teasingly and featherly. Eying his own movements. Scanning the patterns he drew all over the swell of her breasts. "And only because you're asking…"

He paused to glance into her eyes, then slid his tongue between his lips and looked back down to his hands.

"I couldn't stop staring at these," he finally added.

Maisy's skin tingled, and her insides quivered. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the way his fingers made her feel. Enjoying the fact that he'd been staring at her breasts. And enjoying even more the idea of him filling his hands with them and giving both a forceful squeeze. Shit. She swallowed.

Her heart hammered in her ears, though, and her lungs didn't seem to keep up with so much information. She knew Harry could feel her chest moving up and down frenziedly under his touch, meaning that, once again, it would be impossible for her to hide how breathless he made her feel.

So she would have to use it in her favor, instead.

Shifting on her feet, she leaned fully into the car and breathed in deeply, filling up her chest and pressing her cleavage briefly into his hands. Then, she exhaled through her nose, leaving Harry's fingers running over empty air.

"And?" she asked, feeling herself taking control once again. "What's your verdict?"

He peeked at her and took a step forward, fingers finding her again. "My verdict?"

"Mhm. You like them?"

Harry wiggled his eyebrows and nodded, letting her know he understood the question.

Focusing on one breast, he moved his index finger up and down, drawing a straight line, then repeating the process an inch or two to the side.

"I think they're gorgeous," he said, connecting the two lines with a horizontal stroke.

Maisy smiled. "Thanks. I think so, too."

Harry smiled, too, then moved to her other breast. "You do, huh?"

Once again, he traced two vertical lines, and connected them horizontally with a third one.

"Mhmm…"

"Can't see why you wouldn't." He reached her sides and drifted down, roaming through her ribcage. "Can't see why anyone wouldn't."

He got past the exposed skin of her waist, then to the waistline of her pants.

"These are really nice, too." He sneaked four fingers between the fabric and her stomach, leaving only his thumb out as he grabbed onto the waistline and pulled her forward. Maisy gasped quietly, almost unnoticeable, stumbling on her feet while Harry skimmed his other hand down through her belly. "But I bet this one" —he tilted his chin down while she tilted her head up, and then he cupped between her legs, fully palming and covering her heat— "looks better."

Maisy snorted, pressing herself into his touch. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Holding each other's gazes, they both smirked.

Harry pushed his hand into her, backing her up and forcing her into the cold car while stepping forward. "Am I supposed to pretend I'm not dying to take your clothes off?"

Maisy shrugged. "I mean, I would rather if you got right into it, but if you want to keep playing games…"

Harry's smirk faded away. He rubbed his fingers up and down, making sure to stroke from one side to the other. Harsher. Fully. From her entrance, to her front. Just like he'd done earlier that day. But somehow even better.

Oh God. Maisy blinked, then moved her palms up to his arms, holding tightly onto him while flickering her eyes all over his face.

Something had happened.

There were no traces of playfulness or teasing anymore. No more smirks, no more cluelessness. No more fake oblivion. No more mulling over his words.

Harry looked focused and determined. Sure of himself. And yet ready to crumble.

"'M not playing games," he stated, touching her. Always touching her. "Would never play games with you."

Oh. The information clicked inside her mind, and she squeezed his arms. "I—I know."

She hadn't meant it like that, and she knew Harry wasn't messing around with her. He wouldn't do that. If he didn't want her, then he wouldn't be with her. Simply as that.

"Good." He slid his foot between her boots and parted her legs, then spread them even wider with his knee. "Now, I'd really like to make you cum."

Applying more pressure to his hand, he rubbed circles, just like she'd guided him earlier.

Ohh… Maisy fluttered her eyelids, then fully closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, holding back a moan and turning it into a soft whine, instead.

"Can I make you cum, pretty girl?"

Turning the corners of her mouth up, Maisy nodded.

"Right here?" He moved faster. "Right now?"

Oh God. She swallowed, then slid her tongue through her parted lips and glanced at him.

"I—Oh God—" The words flew out from her mind to her mouth, and she dropped her forehead to his chest. "Are there—Shit—Are there cameras here?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Then—"

"We can barely afford light bulbs. Or so I've heard."

"Oh my God," she chuckled, twisting his t-shirt inside her fingers as the feeling grew more and more intense with each stroke. "Shut up, and—Oh God… Just… Fuck."

"Yes?" he asked, the smile clear in his voice.

She breathed in and out, heavily and loudly, and slid one hand from his arm to her own waist. Pulling away from his chest, she stared into his green eyes and unbuttoned her pants.

"Touch me." And then, she unzipped them. "Now."

Harry smirked. He looked around and over his shoulder, then stood by her side and pushed her further towards the front of the car, closer to the wall. Maisy sighed, and relaxed. It was good to know they were in sync. That no matter how much they wanted to do that, none of them got to the point of disrespecting each other's—or other people's—boundaries.

And then, he sneaked his hand inside her pants, and every one of her worries and random thoughts vanished away. She focused on him, and on the things he did to her. She focused on the way he stood straighter and stretched his arm, then got in between the lace of her thong and the warmth of her skin. She focused on the way he stepped forward and relaxed his body into her side, too, throwing his free arm around her neck while angling his other forearm to get his fingertips past her hair, and right into her wet flesh.

"Fuck."

They looked at each other for a second, and then they both chuckled, simultaneously leaning in for a whole new kiss.

"Fucking finally…" Harry mumbled.

He dipped his middle finger between her folds and stroked it up and down, collecting her wetness and spreading it around. Maisy shivered, and her hips jerked forward, almost against her will. With a grunt, Harry pulled his hand off from her pants and broke the kiss, bringing his middle finger to his mouth and sucking it in.

He closed his eyes when tasting her, and Maisy's body got on fire. Grabbing his t-shirt into fists, she pulled him closer, then licked her way around his jaw. Tasting whatever inch she could reach, and as much as she could, while he put his hand back inside her pants.

"C'mere." He kissed her again, and dipped his fingers between her folds again. Stroking them up and down. Spreading her open. Getting to know every corner of her.

Maisy sighed. She moved her hands, grabbing his neck, and his bicep, then let her body react to his wonderful, skillful fingers. His never stopping fingers. Stroking up and down, up and down. Rubbing circles. Pressing her clit. Rubbing her clit. So good. So, so good.

"Oh God." She leaned into him, moving her hips and searching for more friction. "Harry…"

"Yeah?"

More. She needed more.

"Ugh," she practically whined, opening her eyes. "Touch me."

"I am touching you."

She smacked his shoulder. "Then touch me more."

Harry laughed, then quickly kissed her again. He hunched slightly and pressed his middle finger inside her. Just barely, though, not even making it to his first knuckle before freezing and kissing the corner of her mouth.

"Like this?"

"More."

Half an inch forward.

"Like this?"

"Oh my God!" She grabbed his wrist, and glared at him. "I hate you so much right now!"

He smiled, kissing her cheek, and her chin, then her mouth. "No you don't."

Maisy rolled her eyes. "I do, yes."

"Hmmm."

With half of his middle finger still inside her, he pressed one side of his hand on her clit, then went back to rubbing circles.

She let go of his wrist and placed both hands on his shoulders, then threw her head back and rolled her hips back and forth.

"You said you'd make me cum…"

Keeping the steady movement of his hand, Harry kissed her cheek.

"You're right, baby."

Baby.

Maisy throbbed between her legs, then squeezed her eyes shut.

"I did say that," he added, and she huffed.

"So make me, damnit."

"Alright baby," —he bent his knees, then pushed his middle finger deep inside her— "Alright."

Oh.

Maisy moaned.

He slid his hand and pushed his finger out. Then thrusted back inside. Curving it, he pressed it against her wall, searching for that spot that would drive her insane. When he found it, Maisy's knees wobbled, and she melted into him.

"Oh God." She looked into his eyes, breathing from her mouth while he stared back at her.

"Yeah?" Out. And in. Hitting into that same spot one more time. "Right there?"

She bit her lip, and nodded. "Mhmmm…"

He pulled his lonely finger out, then pushed two inside. Aiming for that same delicious spot, over and over again. Making her feel good—so, so good.

She held onto him, hypnotized as she watched the beautiful green of his eyes, and he threaded his free hand through her hair, pulling her till his lips were against her temple. Breathing into her while he worked his strong fingers inside her. Pumping so hard that she could hear her dripping wetness in the dead-silent parking lot.

"God…" She bit her lip. "I dreamed about this for so long."

"Yeah? Is it like you dreamed it would be?"

"Much… Much better."

Harry sighed, then tightened the grip around her hair and tilted her face to the side. "C'mere."

He kissed her firmly, then, connecting their lips and keeping them together while he tried his best to angle his arm and hit the spot hidden inside her.

"Fuck…" She moaned into his mouth. "Can you… Oh God… Can you make it three?"

He hunched down, wriggling inside her pants to adjust his hand.

"Shit." He pulled away from her mouth and looked over his shoulder, then back at her. "Can't with these pants… And I don't want to undress you here…"

Maisy nodded. "Okay."

"Sorry." He pumped in and out again.

"It's—It's fine, I just… I need more."

"Then I'll give you more."

He pulled his fingers out and held her tightly with his palm, then spinned her body around. Pressing his chest to her back and hovering over her shoulder, he held her body firmly with his other arm, and proceeded to work between his legs. He pressed one finger to her clit and rubbed circles, gradually increasing the speed and pressure of his movements. The new position allowed him to relieve some of his own tension, too, rocking his hardening bulge against her ass.

Maisy melted into his hold, throwing her arm up and around his neck and holding tightly onto him while moving her hips back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That was so much better.

Oh God.

He squeezed her tighter, keeping her in place while he made sure to give her everything she needed and wanted. More pressure, more speed. Kisses to her neck, and to her jaw. Breathing hotly into her ear.

"Yes, yes." She pulsed, throbbed, and quivered. "Oh God."

Harry moved steadily, but faster. Pushing her further, and further.

"That's it, baby," he murmured into her ear. "That's it. C'mon."

He pushed her further and further. And even further.

Until Maisy finally exploded, shuddered, and trembled.

''Ah!"

She fell forward, and Harry grabbed her. Pulling her upright, and driving her through her climax. Out of breath and numb, she grabbed his wrist and squeezed him. Silently begging for him to stop.

He complied and pulled his fingers away from her clit, soothing her and shushing her when she hissed. But then he removed his hand from her pants and automatically took it up to his mouth, licking and sucking the mess she'd made while humming next to her ear. As if she was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

Maisy moaned, almost painfully, holding onto his arm around her waist and instinctively drawing circles with her ass up and down his length.

"Please. Please. Just take me upstairs now."

— — — — —

The walk to the fourth floor happened in a rush. They didn't let go of each other while walking, nor stopped kissing or touching when they got inside the elevator. And by the time they were inside the living room, Harry's t-shirt was already on the floor and Maisy's boots were long forgotten by the door.

They blindly guided each other around the furniture, kissing and touching while they unbuttoned each other's pants. Harry's were the first to get lost on the hallway, and Maisy didn't miss one second before feeling him up through his briefs. He grunted and sighed, chasing her mouth while encouraging her to take the rest of her clothes off.

Maisy stumbled as they got inside his bedroom, and they both laughed, having to slow down and take a deep breath before moving on. But then she sat on the foot of the bed and Harry kneeled in front of her, going along with every single one of her movements and helping to undress her.

He kissed her legs, and moved his lips up her body, losing himself with her scent when he nuzzled his nose between her legs. He kissed her on top of the laced thong, and then pulled the item off her body. He moved up, and they captured each other's mouths once again. Kissing, sucking, nibbling. He felt her up, and she felt him up. She squeezed him with her palm, and traced him with her fingers. He breathed in and out heavily from her mouth, too worked up to properly kiss her. And then she kissed his bottom lip, holding it and sucking it into her mouth as she slid into the elastic of his briefs and finally touched him.

Harry moaned. So raw, manly, and helpless at the same time that it made her smile.

She stroked him up and down, then. Up and down, up and down. He was full, firm, and hot under her hand. Rigid. Solid. His own neediness had already gotten him wet, but not enough for her hand to slide as smoothly as she would've liked, so she pulled it off and brought it to her mouth.

Harry took the opportunity to take the last item off, his shaft hitting his stomach and making him hiss. He stroked himself, crawling over her body before diving into her neck.

Maisy squirmed, and moaned. She searched for his hand, and once she grabbed it, she pulled it directly to her chest.

"Want them in your mouth," she murmured, squeezing her breast with the help of his hand.

Harry buckled his hips into hers, and cursed into her skin. He sat on his heels and brought her along by her arms, then pulled at the sleeves of his own shirt to take it off her body.

"Tomorrow morning you're wearing this again," he said, holding up his shirt in his hand and then throwing it to the floor. "And I'm gonna fuck you in it."

Maisy smiled. "Yes, sir."

He sighed then shook his head, and she giggled. Lifting one arm, she unzipped her top with the other one. Harry helped her get rid of it, and then he was all over her body once again. Snuggling into her chest and parting his mouth to get a taste of her breast. Squeezing it into his hand and sucking it fervently. Nibbling her nipple, flickering his tongue. Sucking even more.

"Bloody fucking gorgeous," he mumbled around her.

"God, yes." She relaxed into the mattress, threading her hands into his hair and arching her body into his mouth. "Take more."

He sucked deeper, unashamedly slurping as he drooled all over her skin and grinded against her hips.

Maisy exploded with pure, raw, and wild need for him. She bent her knees and placed her feet on the bed, then spread her legs open. Stretching her arm between their bodies, she grabbed his length and pressed his tip between her folds, rubbing up and down her wetness.

"Fuck." She moaned, rolling her hips up.

"Jesus Christ," Harry grunted. "You're so fucking sexy."

He moved to her other breast, massaging the one he had just abandoned. Losing himself in her taste and squeezing her just as fiercely as he sucked her into his mouth.

Fuck. Maisy really liked that. She really liked when men loved her breasts, but Harry being the one who sucked them into his mouth was mind-blowing. It made her feral. It drove her insane.

"Hell yes." She moaned, and he moaned.

She threaded her free hand around his curls and pressed him closer to her chest. Hoping to suffocate him with her breasts. "Keep going…"

Harry hummed, drinking her in while writhing against her hand.

She scratched his scalp with one hand, and pressed him between her folds with the other. Rocking her hips back and forth while he got drunk on her. "Just like that…"

He searched for her hands, then, slotting their fingers together and sinking them onto the mattress while he devoured her entirely. Letting her breast go with a loud pop and moving immediately to her neck.

"I need you," he mumbled, spreading open-mouthed kisses to whatever he could reach. "Now. I need you now."

She hooked her legs around his waist, adjusting so he could roll and rub himself against her clit. "Mhmm… Please."

He bit her neck, and she dropped her head back, arching into him and squeezing his hands.

"Condom," he mumbled. "I'll—Condom…"

"Mhmm…"

Maisy nodded, dropping her legs to the mattress, and Harry moved, stretching to open the drawer on the bed side table. She took the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his shoulder, tasting him slowly and fervently. He grunted, having trouble concentrating, but eventually grabbed a foil package and moved back to her mouth.

He kissed her, then pulled away to tore the wrapper open with his teeth, and kissed her again. They moved together to put on the condom, always finding ways to keep meeting for tender and lazy kisses. Once he was ready, Maisy shuffled on his bedsheets and made herself comfortable, watching as he slotted between her legs and then crawled to place one elbow next to her head.

Holding himself with one arm and looking into her eyes, he took one hand down and grabbed himself.

She hugged his neck, and he teased his tip around her clit, then tapped it twice against her entrance.

Maisy hissed, and Harry grunted.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, guiding himself inside her body. "I really, really hope I last."

Maisy laughed, and he smiled. And then they kissed.

She instantly hooked her legs around his waist, resting her heels above his bum and encouraging him to get closer. To go deeper. To fill her.

Kissing.

Panting.

Moaning.

Shivering.

Maisy squeezed her eyes together, feeling the burn of the first stretch. And Harry kissed her again. Maybe trying to sooth her. Or maybe because he just couldn't stay away.

"You good?" he asked, caging her head between his forearms.

"Yeah…" She licked her lips, and blinked. "So good."

"Can I fuck you like this?" he asked. "Wanna see you."

She nodded. "Whatever you want. Just fuck me already."

Harry chuckled, then rolled his hips, sliding in and out slowly, just to test the waters.

"Whatever I want?"

Maisy sighed, and nuzzled her hands into his curls. "Yes. Whatever you want."

In…

And out…

"In that case," he said. "Wanna fuck you like this tonight."

In…

And out…

"And want you to ride me tomorrow."

Maisy smiled.

In…

And out…

"Wearing your shirt?" she asked.

"Fuck yes."

In…

He brushed the side of his nose with hers, and smiled, too. "Nothing but my shirt."

And out…

In…

She nodded. "Mkay…"

And out…

"Hmmm."

In…

And out…

"We'll have…" he started, then kept going as he followed the affectionate and sensual pace of his hips. "The rest… Fuck… Of our lives… To try… Different… Positions… Anyway… Yeah?"

Maisy smiled again. "The rest of our lives, huh?"

In…

Harry kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Too cliché?"

And out…

She shook her head. "I like the sound of it."

"Yeah… Me too."

In…

And out…

In…

And out…

"Fuck," he growled.

Picking up the pace, he held his weight firmly onto his forearms, then moved his hips and focused on thrusting into her. In and out, in and out, in and out. Faster. And deeper.

In and out.

Maisy whimpered and squeezed her arms around his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as he built a frantic pace.

In and out.

"Took me all this… Shit… All this time to figure it out," he mumbled. "I'm not—Fuck—I'm not letting you go now."

She arched her back, and sank her nails into his back. "I'm not going anywhere."

He smashed their mouths together. Rocking his hips into her. Pounding into her. Faster. Deeper. The bed knocked into the wall. And their skin smacked together.

Hell yes.

So good.

"Don't stop," she pleaded.

So fucking good.

Loud.

Desperate.

Needy.

Hungry.

Feral.

"C'mon baby…" he mumbled around her lips, then took one hand down to her waist. "C'mon…"

More. More. More.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Deep. Deep. Deep.

"Y—Yeah… Right—Shit. Right there… Oh my God… Keep going… Keep going…"

"You're so loud," Harry chuckled, squeezing her waist and keeping up the reckless pace. "Fucking… Love… It… Fuuuck."

Maisy gasped. She scrunched up her face, and gripped his ass with both hands.

"More… I need… More…"

"Jesus Christ…" Still holding his weight with one arm, he let go of her waist and moved between her legs, then rubbed her swollen clit. "Like that?"

"Fuck yes. Yes. Oh God, Harry… Harry… Oh God… Yes."

"C'mon then… C'mon… Let me see you…"

She moaned loudly, crying out as her walls spasmed and contracted around him and all the tension snapped at once, causing her body to tremble from head to toe.

"Fuck—" Harry closed his eyes. "Isy— Shit… I'm… Isy… Fuck."

He shattered on top of her, pulsing inside her walls as he emptied himself inside the condom and went still with each—

last—

fucking—

thrust.

"Fuuuuuck."

He held himself and pulled out, then finally collapsed into her.

Beats of silence went by. Deafening silence. A silence they hadn't ever shared before. Not in five years of friendship. Not with anyone else they'd ever been up until then. A silence that enveloped both of them naturally, that gave them time to recollect their thoughts and catch up their breaths. And a silence that, after another couple of beats, got them both rolling in bed and laughing out loud.

"Oh my God…"

Maisy hid behind her hands, feeling the mattress sink as he got up and got rid of the condom. Although she didn't want to, she followed his steps, going to the bathroom and cleaning herself up.

Moments later, when she walked back into his bedroom, she found Harry laying in bed, wearing clean briefs and waiting for her.

"C'mere," he said, patting the place next to him.

She curled her lips into a smile and practically ran to him, jumping into his bed and snuggling into his side.

"Jesus Christ Isy…" Harry pulled her naked body to himself, sneaking one arm under her neck and sliding the other one around her waist. "I'm so happy and also so fucking mad right now."

"What?" She placed one hand on his chest and hooked one leg around his waist. "Why are you mad?"

"Because!" He laughed. "Can't believe you've been hiding this side from me all this time."

"Hmm… No I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

"No, because I don't even have a side to hide!"

"You totally do. All loud… Chatty… Bossy…"

"That's not true."

"It isss tho…"

"Oh, shut up."

"Exactly!" He laughed even louder, then forced his voice in a poor attempt of mimicking her. "Shut up Harry. Touch me Harry. Fuck me Harry. More Harry. I need more Harry. More Har—Ouch! Heyyyy!"

Maisy let go of his nipple, then slapped his chest. "Stop being stupid!"

"Will you stop fucking pinching me?" he asked, smacking his palm loudly against her ass.

"Shit!" she yelped and laughed, jolting closer to his body.

"You like it rough, don't you?" he added right after, then pinched right under her bum.

"Harry!" Laughing louder, she squirmed inside his arms. "Stop!"

"You like it rough, and you're filthy."

"Oh my God." Maisy rolled her eyes, catching her breath between all the laughing. "So? What's wrong with that? Huh?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Well, then stop judging!"

"I'm not—What? I'm not!" He shuffled, staring into her eyes and caressing her cheek. "Are you kidding me? I fucking love it!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mhmm… Sure."

Harry shook his head, and smiled. "Don't be silly… It's just… I don't know, but it felt different, y'know? Like… Fucking great sex… But not just like… The sex, sex, y'know? Everything about it… I don't know. I guess I just never had something like this before… Just… So fun and fucking hot at the same time… Y'know what I mean?"

Maisy bit her lip, and nodded. She cradled his cheek and moved closer, then pulled him in for a slow, sweet, and long, long kiss.

"Yeah," she whispered, pecking his mouth one more time and sliding her hand to the back of his head. "I know exactly what you mean."

Harry grunted softly.

"See?" He squeezed her bum. "And you been keeping this away from me! All this time!"

Maisy rolled her eyes—for what felt like the hundredth time. "Okay. Have you thought that maybe, maybe, if you had made a move on me instead of pulling up random girls at bars, you would've known sooner?"

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"You're right." He rested his forehead against hers and nodded. Then, he smiled. "Thank God my girl's got attitude, huh?"

Maisy bit her lip and smiled, too.

But then, she grinned. So big she even giggled.

"Your girl, huh?"

"Mhmmm…" He caressed her side. "If you want to be, of course."

"Am I going to be the only one?"

He pulled away, then looked firmly into her eyes. "I want you to be, yes. I want to do this properly. Wanna be with you. Only you. No-one else."

She threaded her fingers around the curls in the back of his head, then stroked his scalp with soft circles.

"I wanna be with you, too. Want you to be mine."

He smiled, and shrugged. "Already am. All yours."

"Good." She kissed him. "No more being just friends, then…"

"Fuck no!" He laughed, and pulled her in for another kiss. Then, he murmured into her lips, "Fuck that shit. We were never just friends, anyway."

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #here it is...#im gonna post it and hide away forever #byebye

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gorejo · 7 months

Text

▸ I'LL MEET YOU FOREVER IN THIS MEMORY. - GOJO SATORU. forbes30!gojo

synopsis: he'll argue it's fate — a divine moment — that he's always in your proximity, and you call it bullshit. he says his class was in the same building, panting with a sweat pebbling on his forehead, yet you've seen him run across campus just couple minutes prior as he awkwardly stood in front of you. he's a man on a mission, determined to succeed. to have you finally fall for him.

content: wc: 6.6 k (sigh), fluff, light cursing, uses of she/her to align with the original au but the fic can be read without it. reader lovingly calls him stupid for one part and is shorter than him because the man is canonically tall af. petnames (babe, sweetheart, angel). slight nsfw towards the end, Gojo calls himself daddy in one scene just for jokes. college forbes30!gojo !!

There was nothing but the sound of chalk hitting the board, the frustrated sighs of students trying to keep up, and the monotonous tone of Takashi sensei talking that filled the lecture hall.

Students hastily typed on their electronics, while others chose to go old-fashioned with simple pen and paper.

But for Gojo Satoru, none of that mattered, really.

11:47.

Impatiently shaking his legs, his body just barely fitting in the cramped seat, uncaring if the attendant in front of him sent multiple glares for his crude manner of bumping his knees against the back — why the hell were these spaces always so damn cramped?

Satoru released another long sigh as he clicked open his phone to check the time, again.

Infuriatingly, it was still fucking 11:47.

It'll take me about six minutes to get to the quad, and another five to make it to the east building...

“Dammit,” Satoru cursed, his supposed whisper radiating a bit too loudly throughout the silent hall as he slumped further into his seat groaning as his impatience imbued his mind with thoughts.

One more minute and it’ll be just enough time to make it over —

“Gojo-kun,” releasing an annoyed sigh, “would you mind sharing with the class what could’ve gotten you so possibly worked up today?” his professor questioned without even turning his back to look at who just so rudely interrupted his class — again.

What excuse should I make today? Maybe I can leave now and act as if —

“Gojo-kun?” The professor's voice laced with irritation as he put the chalk down, the click of the powder hitting the rail echoed throughout the auditorium — no one dared to speak a word — not especially when the semester was so close to ending.

“Can you answer this question because you seem to be awfully more interested in something else rather than studying for your exam tomorrow?”

maybe I can ask her to study for finals? Oh, that’s good… I can show how studious and dependable I am, and then maybe she’ll fall for me. Goddamn call me a genius! But wait — fuck, I can’t use that because —

“Satoru, uh… sensei's coming,” Gojo felt a nudge on his side, his colleague nervously squirming in his seat, whispering to get his attention but yet it went unacknowledged — far over Satoru’s head — surely, the man currently had other priorities than to be rotting in business calculus.

Business calculus… the bane of his existence, his utter torture of attending every session, a complete fifty minutes wasted three times a week just for him to sit there and ponder about something else — most of the time, it was him getting antsy to get to you.

It was much to everyone’s surprise that he even went to all his lectures — the one student no one ever expects to have perfect attendance for a class he gives two shits about — well, he does give a shit because it’s all for his plan.

….

“So tell me why you’re trying to take this class?” His best friend glanced over Satoru’s shoulder.

“Don’t bother me, I can’t multi-task,” Gojo murmured, ignoring his raven hair friend as he lightly bit his lips, furiously typing up his course number into the system, his back hunched as he anxiously stared at his loading computer screen, “never thought getting a class would be so stressful," Satoru groaned.

“Why are you so stressed, it’s unlike you,” Geto’s voice was serene, “and what other dumb shit are you up to?” he chuckled while taking a sip of his coffee.

“It’s not dumb,” Satoru shot back.

“You tested out of calculus, Satoru.”

“So what?” he grumbled — just a couple seconds more…

Geto didn’t quite understand why Gojo had to go to such lengths, completely acting out of his character as he pitifully waited for his screen to load.

He’d never seen his friend so riled up about something so simple. The last time Satoru got like this was a couple of years back when a small pastry shop he searched online closed an hour before they got there. His defeat and whines were understandable since the trip took three hours by train.

But this… yea, Suguru couldn’t quite put a finger on it… well not until a very minor dialogue he had with a certain someone, such small talk that even he forgot that it occurred a semester prior.

“Are you by chance doing this because —”

Cutting him off, “fuck…” was all Suguru heard as his best friend rested his forehead on his arm, body slumping from the adrenal fatigue.

In bold, a message read:

Congrats! You have successfully registered for all your classes

Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt to learn a bit more about limits and infinities, Satoru thought before taking a nap in the library.

….

Or I can ask if she can help me study. because she’s good at that, right? she’s always at the library, always ignoring my texts because of her goddamn exams…

Gojo pondered, crossing his arms with his index and thumb rubbing against his chin, his cheeks squeezed while furrowing his brows.

but fuck, that means I won’t be able to talk to her because last time — I mean, it’s been a month since then, maybe it’ll be different now, I figure we got closer. she's smiling a bit more and we’ve gone on a couple of dates… I suppose —

…

“Psst,” Gojo harshly whispered from across the table, “psst!”

Glaring at him over your laptop, eyes sparkling and round, face needy for attention, “what do you want?” You spat out.

“Just wondering,” Gojo chirped, his ears perked in your direction with his elbows resting on the table, body leaning towards your direction, “Have you fallen for me yet?”

“No, you’re not my type.” you retorted emotionless.

“What’s your type then?” Gojo countered, unfazed, smiling as he challenged your words.

“Someone, not Gojo Satoru.”

“Well, aren’t you spicy?” He stretched out his legs while leaning back on his chair, boyishly smiling with his arms thrown behind his neck, the lean physique of his body outlined in this position — he looked hot, no doubt about that, and… he knew that.

“but i’m just going to tell you now,” cocking his head to the side, licking his soft lips that shined a pretty pink, confidently proclaiming,

“there will come a day when your words will bite you in the ass.”

“Did your parents ever teach you about having some class —“

“Can you guys lower it down, or move someplace else?” a student hushed, stating through gritted teeth as he witnessed the tortuous and unforgivable sight of you both, love, bantering in the library of all places.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, apologetically smiling at them before facing forward to meet your stalker — you swore he was stalking you because there was no way he and you could have this many “random” encounters, that would work out so perfectly with him just magically appearing wherever you go — it's bullshit you thought, especially when his acting skills weren’t necessarily that great…

“Hey babe,” Gojo cheekily whispered,

“I’m not your babe,” you hissed back.

“Ooo, so you like the sweet pet names huh? Noted,” he nodded, the curve of his lips turned upward, humming a tune while he typed something on his phone.

you couldn’t tell what annoyed you more, his devilishly handsome smile, or the fact that your heart was beating in unrhythmic patterns the more you talked with him.

A facade maybe, but you’ve come to undeniably enjoy his rambunctious company despite him getting on your nerves.

“Then, sweetheart, do you wanna —“

“No.” you numbly stated while typing away at your report.

“But I didn’t even get to —“

“Still, no.”

“Fine…” for a moment Satoru slumped into his chair, before quickly asking again, “how about —”

“No.”

Smiling as he rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward as he pushes down your laptop, his long, pretty fingers lightly tapping the case, “Do you hate Gojo Satoru?” His words slyly spewed out of his lips, anticipating your shy face when he catches you slipping for saying ‘no’ without much thought.

“Yes.”

“Boo,” Satoru pouted while retreating to his side, slumping his back to rest his cheeks on his textbook as he closed his eyes.

With your screen down it was easier to take notice of his features. Not that you were blatantly indifferent about his looks — everyone knew Gojo Satoru was handsome — but you rarely got to see him for who he was underneath all the layers of superficial worth people praised him for.

There was a lot on his shoulders from the brief mentions about his family and childhood that you could sense. It was easy to tell that behind all the crazy and loud was a little boy hiding his loneliness and pain under a mask and careless demeanor.

You noticed his lips were mildly protruding out, his brows slightly furrowed and his white hair gently frayed down on his forehead with his lashes long and occasionally fluttering. His skin was unblemished and his jaw was sharp yet his face still held the youth of his age.

He’ll soon prepare to work for his family business, learning about the intricacies of the business and possibly becoming one of those cutthroat bosses you’ve seen in the dramas.

He’ll probably grow a bit more — he’s been working out a lot Gojo would say, proven by the multiple thirst traps he’ll post. His arms were getting a lot more defined, and his abs… oh, you didn’t mean to take a peak. But guess you did have a front-row seat to his almost topless torso when he mindlessly pulled up his shirt while he took off his sweatshirt.

can't say you disliked the view.

You remember feeling warm that day — stomach fluttering with something, while your back felt gently embraced with his scent and clothing.

“You checking me out?” Gojo muttered without taking a glance at you, pulling you back into reality.

“N-no!” you quickly looked away, opening up your laptop as you grimaced at the harsh stares you got from those around you for the noise, “j-just wondering if you were going to study or not?” you murmured, hiding your face behind your laptop and your cheeks starting to feel hot.

“For someone so smart you ask dumb questions,” Gojo chuckled as he stretched out his legs, his feet purposefully tapping against yours, “what does it look like I’m doing, sweetheart?” he quietly mumbled before his voice started to fade out, “you know,” silently yawning as his body curled inward — all 6’3’’ of him on the small desk that barely housed his long legs — the tapping of his foot now softly, soothingly, rubbing against yours, “you gotta work smarter, not hard…er…”

You weren’t sure if the man before you was a complete idiot or a genius. but for unknown reasons, this guy surprisingly scores the top grade in his classes when his only method of “studying” is sleeping with his head on top of his textbook — surely, the world isn’t fair.

Despite the little snore you heard in front of you, with the light grunts he made from the uncomfortable position, you couldn’t help but fondly look at the guy in front of you.

Smiling — yea, you’ve been doing that a lot these days.

You decided — maybe, opening up wouldn’t be so bad…

For you, you remembered it was the first time you felt odd in the stomach. A bit like butterflies as you watched him doze off to sleep, trying your absolute best to restrain your hands from moving a piece of hair that covered his face as he slightly drooled while you studied. You’ve been catching yourself stalling time to meet him where he supposedly just ran into you — he was nice and the epitome of warmth, and you liked that in your dull world.

But for Satoru, it was another failed attempt to get closer to you.

He remembered waking up in an empty library — alone. he swore he rested his head for no more than thirty minutes, but how the hell was the time three hours past that?

Stretching as he released a low groan, his gaze foggy as he squinted his eyes to look for you, only to frown when he realized you were nowhere to be seen.

“dammit” Satoru grumbled while quickly packing his bags, “I wanted to buy dinner —”

A neon post it leafed its way down to the table, planting face down as Gojo slowly blinked in confusion while touching his forehead.

Picking up the piece of paper, it read:

Hey loser, you were mumbling about some food while you slept, so I got you dinner and placed it next to your backpack. go home and eat ( :

p.s. also, stop bothering me, weirdo.

p.p.s. you know you drool while sleeping?

Dumbfoundedly wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Gojo wasn’t sure if he was blushing from embarrassment or the fact that you were the first girl to buy him dinner — well, it wasn’t in the typical romantic sense… but who the fuck cares, it’s the fact that you bought him dinner; therefore, a step a closer to his goal. So he wins.

Carefully folding the note and placing it into the safeguard of his wallet, Gojo quickly strapped on his bag as he gently held onto his dinner, cradling it like a prized possession, mentally noting what to use for his excuse tomorrow while he made his way down the stairs to the exit.

The air felt oddly cold for the summer. the slight breeze brushed against his face, the ends of his hair tickling his cheeks as he breathed in the damp air.

Everything felt good — right almost despite his lost chances of getting dinner with you. Perhaps he can save that for another day.

“Just you wait,” beaming up at the moon lighting up the campus, his blue eyes sparkling as Gojo declared, “you will be mine.”

…

“ — Gojo-kun,” his professor called out. His impatience ran thin as he tapped his foot against the floor, “if you don’t answer, I will fail you —”

“Sensei, the limit just simply doesn’t exist — it’s limitless.” Satoru nonchalantly responded, cooly peaking at his watch now — maybe the time would read faster with that — but the second hand still stayed the same, seconds excruciatingly feeling long.

“No matter how difficult you propose this function, if the derivative doesn’t exist, nor will its limit.” Gojo continued to calmly iterated his reasoning.

“But doesn’t this point here,” pointing at the board, the chalk panging against the surface, “exist?” his professor challenged, “it’s a point on the graph.”

“Well, no matter how far you stretch this graph within the axes, going as far as trying to touch the asymptotes, it will never. because the limit will always be limitless since the function at those points won’t exist. So, no, that point isn’t on the graph.”

“And what about here?,” pointing to the chalkboard,“what is your answer, Gojo-kun?”

“Assuming you only have one x to one y, then the answer is simple. By definition, the limit will exist if the points on both sides of that graph approach the same point. To find that point, well that depends on the graph given. And looking at this graph, no. there are two points that are open.”

It should be about damn time.

Gojo felt his blood rushing through his body, heart anxiously pumping with each heavy thud drumming to his ears, the only sound audible that his brain could decipher instead of the pointless questions his professor was asking — why was he making it so goddamn difficult.

His urgency spiked up as adrenaline pumped through his body, anxiously shaking his leg, Gojo clicked his phone open again, his large hand covering the device as he peeped down.

11:48 — shit.

“Well, what about when —”

“Shit, I'm late,” Gojo cursed, frantically packing up his bag and zipping it up.

“Excuse me?” His professor frowned, obviously taken aback by his student’s daring use of profanity in his lecture.

But paying no mind, Gojo quickly stood up and paved his way out, harshly whispering past with a light smile as he hugged onto his bag, “Psst, sorry, going through!” doing his best to swiftly move through the cramped isles while his giant, uncaring if his lanky build caused a nuisance in the middle of the lecture, unbothered if his professor was done talking to him or not,

“Gojo-kun?” His professor was flabbergasted at his student’s rude ignorance.

“excuse me, sorry!” Satoru cheekily exclaimed while finally making his way out.

“I haven’t dismissed —”

“Sensei sorry!” Gojo exclaimed while opening the lecture door, ready to sprint out, “I promise, I’ll pass your exam tomorrow!” he blurted, voice fading off into the distance and Gojo now nowhere to be seen.

“... at least don’t sit in the middle if you’re always going to barge out like that,” his professor murmured to himself, massaging the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

Yet the only response he got was silence, the awkward creaking of the door closing, and the clock striking the end of his lecture.

“Fuck,” he panted while brushing his fingers through his hair, a little damp from his sweat, his chest huffing from the sprint across campus as he looked at his watch, brows furrowed as his eyes searched everywhere for a glimpse of you.

“Not there,” he mumbled, gazing to his side, “no, not here,” frustratingly turning around as he scanned the area just in case you slipped out the back door, his eyes loosely looking past a couple of figures, “damn it, not here too.”

“What’s not here?” he heard a soft voice from behind him.

“Just looking for someone,” without processing, Satoru blurted out, “uhm… sorry just talking to myself —” Gojo mumbled as he slowly turned around, impatient that someone was taking away his precious time to find you.

Call him a dreamer but he was still hopeful that you possibly didn’t just leave — I mean how could you, when he made it a point to always see you after class, you couldn’t be that clueless.

“You’re late,” you stated, trying to stifle your laugh, his busy eyes quickly changed to ones of nervousness as he registered who was exactly in front of him. His clear, azul eyes were imbued in sheer panic as his expression dwindled to eventual ease as a droplet of sweat ran down from his temple.

“Oh god, uhm,” scratching his head as he awkwardly looked off to the side, whispering under his breath, “I- I ended class a little late, but great to see you again,” he tried composing himself while smiling — the one that made his lips twitch from nervousness.

“I see,” you hummed, “you seem out of breath, Gojo,” you teased, remembering just how frantic he looked minutes prior while running over.

You ended class a bit earlier, wondering if he’d be waiting outside like he normally did, pacing back and forth to make it seem like he simply ran into you — how utterly stupid was he?

But it was you that would giggle, feeling the type of happiness that made your heart full and cheeks hurting — guess you were the stupid one for falling for such an act.

So you decided to wait today, standing off in the corner to witness how he would stage his act — you just didn’t expect him to be in such a panic rush trying to get here.

“Yea, y-you know those stairs, it gets me all the time,” Gojo stiffly laughed as he fisted his hand behind his back, trying to steady his breath and nose from embarrassingly flaring.

“Satoru,” giggling as you peeped up, noticing just how much taller he was compared to you while his hands nervously twitched and cheeks rosy despite his firm stance that his class was only but a few steps away from yours, you couldn’t help but smile at his innocence, “there are no stairs in this building.”

“Satoru, huh… that’s a change… sounds so nice rolling off your tongue,” he pondered while staring at your lips. It was cute and just perfect as you said every letter, every syllable of his name —

“Earth to Gojo Sa-to-ru,” waving your hands, tip-toeing to get his attention.

“Ah, right…. Sorry,” he mumbled, shyly looking away only to take a quick glance at you looking up at him.

“So…” cocking your head to the side, eyes doe-like while looking up through your lashes, “ what’s the plan for today? You softly chirped.

“uhm,” eyes widen, shocked at your response, “what?” his voice was unexpectedly sharp.

“I asked what are we doing today….” Rolling on your heels, “I-isn’t that why you’re here?” you nervously asked.

“Just like that?” Gojo glanced at you, eyes full of suspicion.

“What do you mean?” you questioned, lips starting to form a pout as you awaited his answer.

“Sorry,” he sighed, stretching his legs out to match his height with yours, “didn’t mean to sound harsh,” he apologetically whispered while gazing into your eyes.

“It’s just that you always reject me… I - I mean,” holding his hands up, shaking in defense to not offend you, “don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it,” furrowing his brows as he shook his head, “no, no, let’s retract back. I’m thrilled that you’re asking me. It's just that…” his voice slowly fading as if embarrassment finally caught up to his head.

“It's just what?” you softly mumbled.

“Well,” sighing, “I had all these excuses planned out just in case you said no,” he confessed as he pulled his phone from his pocket, “It’s all in my notes app.”

“Notes app huh?” your lips twitched from trying to contain your laugh.

“So what was the excuse for today? or… ” you teased, gently hitting your elbow against his arm, “should I say no, so your efforts don’t go to waste?”

“Thought we could go for coffee after I uncoincidentally bumped into you after your class,” Satoru shrugged.

“Coffee sounds nice,” you hummed, “you’re buying?”

“Here gimme,” he softly encouraged, quickly taking your bag and swinging it over his shoulder, “I mean, I do owe you one for bumping into you that one day.”

“Ah, so you do admit, that was your fault,” you jokingly glared, “the headache you put me through because of your stupid five hundred dollar shirt,” you grumbled.

“Well technically it was a bit more,” he grinned, “but not really, I believe in fate,” he winked, “it was a divine moment.”

“You’re ridiculous,” rolling your eyes, “but I need to study.”

“I have an excuse for that too.”

“And what could that be?”

“I got an exam tomorrow, so you can watch me be handsomely studious,” Satoru smiled.

“For what class?” stunned to hear Gojo Satoru and studying be spoken in a sentence together.

“Business calc,” he frowned.

“Oh my god! Who’s your professor?” you beamed.

“The one and only Takashi sensei,” Satoru chuckled, softly patting your head as he couldn’t resist your cute enthusiasm.

“What?” your voice suspicious, yet you had no resolve to remove it — it felt nice, his hands were big… you realized.

“Nothing,” biting his lip to contain his laugh,” it’s just… that’s the most you’ve shown interest in me.”

“Whatever…” you huffed to flush out the embarassment, “I have him next semester —”

“I know,” he softly responded, his words going unnoticed.

“— and I’m worried because math isn’t really my forte,” you honestly confessed.

“That’s why you have me!” he stood with his chest tall, his thumb pointing at himself, “I’ll be your dependable, hot tutor that you fall in love with.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

Winking, “I don’t charge pretty girls like you —”

“So you’re telling me, you tutored other girls by being their hot and dependable tutor?” you raised a brow, standing to one side as you crossed your arms.

“What? N-no, that’s not it!”

“mhm, yea… playboy,” shaking your head,” so why are you taking business calculus? Thought you tested out of it, no?”

“Well… a man has his reasons,” he cheekily stated.

“And how does that help me to study?” raising one brow as you questioned his logic, “ I thought your method of studying was sleeping on your textbook.”

“Okay wow, I was not prepared for that. You’re making it difficult for me again, but you know what?” pulling his sleeves up as he stood tall in front of you, “I’m prepared for your rejections. And in answer to that, then we can study together.”

“But you talk too much, and snore when you fall asleep.”

“Not true,” Satoru murmured, “Suguru said I was generally a peaceful and quiet sleeper.”

“Explain generally,” you eyed him suspiciously, “and I didn’t know you both were like that,” giggling, your heart slowly expanding in adoration the more you talked with him, “... sleeping together and such.”

“We just had one too many nights where we would pass out a little drunk after a party,” scratching the back of his head, “and m-my body runs a little hot… so…”

“So…?”

“So, Shoko may or may not have some photos of us,” Gojo’s face started to contort in disgust, “cuddling…”

“But aside from that,” he tried defending himself, “I’m very great to sleep with!”

“Sure…” you gave him a teasing glance, “I’ll ask Geto the next time I see him about that.”

“Hey…” suddenly stepping closer to you, his voice serious yet soft. He was careful to not overstep any boundaries you might have placed, slowly reaching down to grasp hold of your fingers,

“just give me a chance yea? I’ll be good, I- I won’t snore, I won't drool, and I’ll only talk when I need to, hmm?” he reassured

You can almost feel the sore desperation in his voice as you feel the feathery grazes of his fingers against yours; his breath held as he anxiously awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you softly mumbled.

“Great,” releasing his breath, “you won’t regret it, I promise,” Gojo whispered while smiling.

“Hey Satoru,” you lightly called out, his name perfectly rolling off your tongue — so delicate, so pretty.

“Mhm,” he invited you to continue.

“Did you run here?” You questioned, playing with your foot as you rolled a rock on your shoe, “you’re normally not so out of breath.”

“Pssh, no,” he awkwardly laughed, “I told you my class is in this building as well —“

“Stupid, come here,” you murmured, pulling him slightly down, taking a piece of your sleeve as you tiptoed to reach his face. Gently dabbing the small droplets of sweat under his soft white bangs, “next time don’t run. And finish your class, Sensei’s going to hate you,” you softly told him.

“I- I told you,” blushing because your face was way too close — dangerous even — examining your features, ‘pretty’ he thought as he watched you concentrate on him,

“I just happened to have class —“

“I’ll be waiting next time, so take your time coming,” you smiled, looking into his eyes before quickly flattening your feet, “it’s quite far to come here from across campus, no?”

Satoru just gives in, like the hundred different times where he willingly lost to you, “Not as hard as scoring a date with you,” he smiled while spreading his feet out to make it easier for you to continue.

“It’s not a date,” you mumbled, your cheeks feeling hot as his soft eyes gazed at you, his two hands lightly placed on your hips to draw you closer.

“It is so definitely a date,” Satoru professed, “and I can just tell,” his voice feathery and light, “that we’ll have many more.”

10 years later —

The light scratching on his pen against the document loomed in his office. Ijichi, his most trusted secretary anxiously waited for his boss to finish signing his papers, watching guard just in case he didn’t go running off before finishing all his duties — again.

“You don’t need to stand there hovering,” Gojo nonchalantly stated, his wrist gently peeking through his cuffs, his watch shining with every stroke of his name.

“Well, these reports are important that you have them signed by today,” Ijichi nervously answered.

“Do you have it ready?” Gojo responded without removing his gaze from the file he was reading just before signing.

“I-I do, the flower shop did say it was difficult to find the specific color, but they made it work. I’ll bring it over when you’re done… and reservations have been made, sir.”

“Perfect, because…” his voice calm and emotionless, his hair once perfectly set in the morning, now just a little frazzled from his busy day, his tie now loose from his stress, “this should be the last one I do,” Satoru smiled while giving his secretary the folder.

“Sir, uhm you still have —”

“I’ll do them tomorrow,” Gojo stood up, reaching over to grab his coat, quickly throwing it over his broad shoulder.

“B-but!” Ijichi was frantic, his eyes shaking at the visible stack of papers Satoru had yet to sign — and oh, god, he didn’t even get to read over the file for tomorrow’s presentation.

“Satoru-sachou, the Chairman will be there for tomorrow—“

“And the flowers are beautiful, she’ll love them, thank you,” Gojo warmly smiled while taking a whiff of its scent, walking past the frazzled man to a mirror to quickly freshen up his white hair and clothes, reapply your favorite cologne and spray some mint into his mouth.

“Satoru-sach —”

“Relax, when have I ever worried you?”

'always,' Ijichi thought.

Nonchalant and unbothered as he fixed his tie, “It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, and you’ll be fine,” Satoru stated as he took one look at the mirror, his sharp cerulean eyes looking at his secretary, “go take the night off, you look exhausted.”

You! You are the source of my stress and mental breakdowns! Ijichi wanted to scream.

While making his way to the door, Satoru quickly noted, “I’ll be here in the morning with all of it finished,” he stated before leaving his office.

At a loss for words, helpless in front of his careless boss, Ijichi just stood frozen, mind racing at all the changes and accommodations, the phone calls and e-mails he’d have to make to fit into Gojo’s schedule because he knew for sure… Gojo Satoru will not be here bright and early in the morning to finish his work — especially when it is date night.

“I should just quit,” falling to his knees, defeated by his boss’s carelessness to simply skadoodle off on a date when he was one impacted by the brunt repercussions of his actions, “surely he wants to kill me with all this— ”

Disrupting his internal monologue, “Ah, I almost forgot,” Ijichi’s mortal enemy spoke while opening the door and holding onto the knob, “I booked a small vacation for you and your wife for this weekend, it should be in my drawer,” the man simply blinked in response, “and don’t call me until I text you, I got important business for tonight,” Gojo warned before his voice quickly changed to that of pity, “yea… you definitely need that break,” he stated as he shook his head and closed the door again.

Registering what just occurred, Ijichi grunted as he lifted himself up, brushing his knees as he walked towards Satoru’s desk, lightly skipping as the scales of his exhaustion flaked off from the caring act of his boss, “Well, guess I gotta start sending those emails now…” Ijichi hummed.

…

“Traffic doesn’t seem too bad,” Gojo muttered while looking at his phone’s navigation, his steps pacing as the clicks of his heels echoed through the halls of the empty parking garage.

Sliding his hand behind the handle, the car automatically turned on as he opened the door. Lowly grunting as he entered his Bentley, his eyes quickly scanned his back seat from the rearview mirror, his mind recalling a moment a couple of days prior that left you rather speechless in his arms — hot and sticky as he reconfirmed once again his love for you in a rather lustfully carnal matter.

He could do that with you — boyfriend privileges.

It’s not like he picked out this specific car, testing out the back specifically for its… spacious seating and tinted window. Totally didn’t bring this car to work today because he wanted to test those specifications out again… but only if you were up for it.

And stepping on the gas pedal, Gojo drove out, the light screeches of his car heard from inside.

“Daddy’s coming, sweetheart,” Gojo chuckled while firmly placing a grip on his wheel, his vacant arm resting on the side.

Though a decade has gone by, Satoru still feels the same giddiness that he did when he was eighteen. He’s gotten taller, bulkier in his frame, and styled his clothes better from the god-awful sweats he always wore — though you still seem to always complain if he wasn’t wearing his specific gray ones, he doesn’t blame you. It makes his dick look nice.

He kisses you a lot better than the sloppy ones he gave you in his teen years. He gets to wake up with you — face cutely bloated, tummy peaking through his loose shirt, legs entangled with his as he takes in your beauty. He likes that, all of it.

He reads and understands your quirks before you even tell him. And strangely so, when you have a headache, well god be damned, he had one too.

He’s become more influential and held power to his name, leading a multi-billion company, but in the privacy of his home, he was still silly, honest, and vulnerable. Contrary to the changes throughout the years, Satoru was still the same — a lovesick man.

Despite your harsh decision to break up with him from a simple misunderstanding, Gojo never held it against you. He’s grown to understand and works to amend the loss — together. It was his time to grow, his time to expand his horizons and his time to explore his options. But guess fate was really on his side because he walked back to where it all started with a fresh start — finding you two years ago at a college reunion.

Life was good for Satoru — better when you came back into his world. Mornings weren’t so tough and nights didn’t feel so lonely. His mundane days of meeting and mediocre dates were of the past. Now, even the simplest days felt refreshing.

Looking out as he drove through the highway, a couple minutes from your workplace, he watched the city’s skyline sparkle in the dark. He recalled the days when he looked out the night sky, thinking if you were happy, wishing he could just understand why you decided to leave him — only for him to make some regrettable choices of relying on alcohol and texting quick fucks, slipping into weakness during the quietest of times.

It’s often when everything was quiet that felt the loudest — the most difficult to bear for him.

But now, when he sees the night sky he can’t help but feel warm with a slight tingling resonating from his core because even if it's quiet, he isn’t alone — you’ve nestled into a portion of his heart that he could never forsake, nor did he want to.

She’ll like that, Gojo thought while looking up, making a mental note to mention it to you later.

He felt his heart beating fast as he imagined what face you would make when you would see him today — happy, relieved, excited? Or did you happen to have a bad day, the exhaustion dripping from your slumped shoulders simply needing a hug with light kisses as he expressed his love?

And parking his car, carefully grabbing the bouquet as he took another whiff — he doesn’t remember flowers smelling so beautifully fragrant when you weren’t in his life, but strangely now… it does.

“Yellow tulips are my favorite,” you mentioned once while Satoru dropped you off at your dorm.

“Why,” he asked. Repeating ‘yellow tulips’ in his head multiple times just so he can type it into his notes app later when he was alone.

“Just cause… they’re beautiful and they symbolize hope and happiness,” you softly said, “I like to think there’s something out there I can be hopeful for… and maybe find the answer to finding true happiness, if that even exists, ” you shyly confessed with a gentle laugh.

And grabbing hold of your hand, gently bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss, specific to a finger on your left hand, Satoru marked a promise, “I’ll buy you all the yellow tulips in the world, till you find that answer.”

Obviously, no flower could come abysmally close to your natural scent when he held you tightly in his arms, naked bodies touching as he breathed into your skin.

And he hoped the time he spent with you was a step closer to finding your true happiness because, to him, you meant the world.

“She’ll be out in a few, so...” he murmured while taking a look at his watch, briefly scanning the entrance to find a good spot to wait.

“There should be perfect,” he whispered to himself as he made his way to the corner — a place difficult to see through from the dangling tree leaves and vines.

Satoru couldn’t help but pleasingly reminiscence the times when he would run from his lecture to pick you up. Who can blame him, he was a man on a mission to find his princess — just so happens that she broke his heart eight years ago — but who the fuck cares about setbacks, things were good now.

He feels his heart beating, the familiar thumping in his chest as he waits for you. The usual sweating of his palms as he checked his phone for the time again, mentally groaning as time seemed to be infinitely fixed. Good thing there was no sensei asking him useless questions as he nervously waited.

“I’ll see you next week, have a great weekend Tanaka-san.”

Gojo could realize that voice anywhere.

There you were, waving goodbye to a fellow male coworker that he had never liked — the lovely Tanaka-san, you always had so many great things to say about. He should just have you transferred to his company, you’ll thrive, and even have a chance to expand your talents … but you’ll give him an earful if he does.

But that’ll be a conversation for another day when he’s more willing to put up a friendly fight with you.

Because right now, he had a mission — one he’s been striving for since eighteen.

“Ah, fancy I see you here,” Satoru voiced out, coming out from the dark with a hand behind his back, “must’ve been fate that we meet,” he stated with a wink.

Rolling your eyes with a chuckle, turning around to see your boyfriend walking over, “did you run here? Or…” you hummed while looking over to find his Bentley parked on the right, “are you gonna tell me you work here too?”

“Neither,” he shrugged while walking, “just came here to ask a pretty girl out on a date, that’s all,” his voice soft yet enticing as he now stood so closely in front of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry but I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend,” you looked around, your knees feeling weak when you caught his confident smirk, the sweet scent of his cologne hypnotizing your senses, “have you seen him? He’s really handsome, you know?” you played on.

“You do?” Satoru warmly stated as he gave you the bouquet he was hiding behind his back, his fingers gently resting on your hips as he pulled you in, your dainty heels standing in between his larger dress shoes while he pressed a warm kiss to your cheek, “Bet your handsome boyfriend doesn’t have flowers for you like this, no?”

“He gets them for me all the time,” you took a whiff of the rose and caught sight of the yellow incarnation of hope, “and always picks me up from work even though it drives his secretary insane.”

“Pssh, what a bad boyfriend,” he whispered with his gaze traveling to your lips, “you should totally dump him for me,” he pitched while cupping your face, lips teasing to touch, the slight minty breeze of his breath warming your cheeks, as he slowly closed the impending gap between you two,

“what do you say, sweetheart? Give me a chance and I’ll treat you to more than just coffee for our date tonight.”

note: hope you all enjoyed! it was rather difficult to pull out this piece because I was heartbroken from the last jjk chapter... but all is well now because gojo is healthy and well in the forbes30! universe. this was a headcanon that spiraled into a 6k fic... and hopefully i'll be able to expand on the other hc's i have for him, without breaking the word count rip

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #forbes30!gojo

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darthannie · 8 months

Text

potential side effects

pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader summary: After giving you an experimental medication, Dr. Crane helps you get over your fear of intimacy. word count: 2,143 warnings: 18+, minors DNI for the love of god, DARK, rough at points, I’m gonna go ahead and say NONCON, au where Dr. Crane has a private practice, abuse of power, reader is under the influence (kinda like the fear toxin), reader is sleepy, Crane doesn't take no for an answer, dacryphilia, inexperienced!reader, floor sex, spit, fighting back, a smidge of aftercare at the end. a/n: Please do not read if you’re not into what's in the warnings. I had fun experimenting with this one. I tried to be a little more thorough in the warnings. Better safe than sorry. I’m still toying around with Jonathan’s voice. Let me know if you want more of this kind of thing, or something different. I’d love to interact with you guys more!

Dr. Jonathan Crane had been treating you for the better part of a year and was in the midst of creating a new medication regimen for you. Your previous treatment plan was not working as intended, so it was back to the drawing board.

He selected you as the first person to receive an experimental medication. It was meant to be inhaled and doses were to be given during the time of the appointment. You didn’t necessarily know what to expect. He’d briefly mentioned that there may be potential side effects but didn’t go into much detail.

You were nervous the first time you’d gone in to receive a dose. As you approached the door to his office you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. You knocked and after a moment he opened the door. Jonathan always wore the same thing most of the time. Today he donned a black blazer and slacks with a white button-up. His red tie was placed right at the center of his collar. His dark hair framed his face perfectly. He looks good today, you thought, better than usual.

You exchanged your normal pleasantries and sat across from him on a couch. His office was spacious and dark. All the furniture was made of wood. In the corner, there was a big bookcase that consisted of books on fear, pharmacology, and different editions of the DSM. The DSM-4 was missing from the shelf, presumably on his desk.

The room brought you a lot of comfort. It was the only place you ever got to see him. It felt like Dr. Crane was the only person in all of Gotham that understood you. It was his job after all.

Soon the time came for him to administer the medication.

“I’m going to spray in front of your face and you’re going to breathe in. It doesn’t take much to be effective.”, he said.

You nodded and he sprayed.

Your nerves subsided almost immediately and your mind became quiet.

“Any difference?”, he asked.

“My mind is silent. All my racing thoughts have stopped.”

“Good. That means it’s working. Some of the other side effects may begin to set in now.”

He was right. Like clockwork, you started to get drowsy. It was like someone had given you a little too much Benadryl. It was hard to keep your eyes open.

“Dr. Crane? Is this normal?” You couldn’t help but drag the ’s’.

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the medication working. How do you feel?” He seemed a tad on edge as he awaited your answer.

“I feel all warm inside.”

He then leaned back against his desk. “Any drowsiness?”

“Lots of it.” You chuckled slightly.

“That is normal.” He said, answering your question. “The medication was likely to make you feel tired.”

“Does it go away?”

“As your body builds up a tolerance, the effects will lessen. Now, I wanted to talk about the recent screenings you filled out. I would like you to check over them and rate their accuracy on a scale from one to five, five being very accurate.”

He handed you a piece of paper and you looked it over. “Four.”

“Why not five?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Number six. ’S worse.” Question number six pertained to your interest in sex. More specifically how terrified you were of having it.

It was a topic you were working on with Dr. Crane since it impacted your life so much. You were hesitant to mention it at first, but he assured you it was better to talk about it instead of holding it in. So, you spilled every detail. This included your inability to get yourself off and failed hook-up attempts.

You’d try very hard but when it came time for you to do the deed you shut down and found a way out of the situation. You hadn’t been getting out there much because, frankly, the thought of being intimate with someone was frightening. You didn’t know how you’d ever get over it.

“Have you sought out any partners to help with your fears?”, he asked.

You took a moment to process what he said. “No, I haven’t. I can’t. It’s too-“

“Frightening, yes I remember you using that word.” He removed his glasses before continuing. “I think there’s a way I can help you with that. Personally.”

You yawned. “What do you mean by that doctor?”

“I can make you feel better.” He looked down at you and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

“How do you mean?” You could hear the apprehension in your voice. He ignored your question and reached down to the hem of your top, lifting it slightly.

You pulled back a little too quickly and you got a bit dizzy. “I don’t know about that Dr. Crane. I can’t- I’m not well.”

He ignored you. “I think it’ll be easier if I just take you here on the floor.”

He dragged you off the couch and onto the ground, sitting up. The hardwood was cold to the touch but started to warm under your body. He kneeled next to you. You tried to fight him as he reached for your sweater. He grabbed your wrists to stop you from thrashing around.

“I would hate to have to tie you up, sweetheart.” You knew he would follow through so you did what he wanted. You stopped fighting back.

He neatly folded and put aside each article of clothing he took off your body. Eventually, you were completely bare in front of him. You were almost too gone to grasp what was going on. Almost. The fear began to creep in and he could tell. Maybe the medication was not working the way he intended it to. Maybe he lied about what it was intended to do.

You slurred, “Dr. Crane, please don’t- Please don’t do this.”

He leaned over you and you tried to push him away. He only offered a small smile and reached his hand down between your legs. You whimpered as his fingers moved lightly over your clit. You mewled at the new sensation. You gave in to the feeling and your eyes started to close. When they wouldn’t open again Jonathan lightly slapped your cheek.

“No, no, no don’t fall asleep. I need you to stay awake for me.”, he said.

You fought the exhaustion and watched as he used his fingers to tease you.

He noticed you getting wetter and moved his fingers down to your entrance. He slowly stretched you with two fingers, watching your face as your mouth fell open.

A tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He started slow and then moved his fingers in and out very quickly, hitting a new spot until he found the one that made your legs shake. You lied back and let him work on you. All you felt was bliss. No one had ever touched you like that.

He took his hand away and you whined. This was a first and you were glad you made it this far. This was a win.

You thought it was over, but then you noticed him unbuttoning his pants.

Your breath quickened and you put your hand out. “Wait! Please, no! I think I’ve had enough for today.”

“We’re not done with your treatment yet, princess. Please hold still. It will be easier for the both of us.”

Your body was made of putty. The side effects had gotten worse. He brought your legs into position before grabbing himself in his hand. He stroked his cock a couple of times before entering you.

He gave you no time to adjust. His pace was slow but he fucked hard. You gasped at the feeling of him inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before. But, that didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was to feel you around him. Make you his.

The sounds in the room sent you reeling. You didn’t know you would moan so much. The sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room along with his heavy breaths and moans. He grabbed your hips as he thrust hard and fast. You were having a hard time coping with all the feelings you were having at once. The fear, exhaustion, and pleasure were beginning to mix. You wanted to scream. Instead, you cried.

Jonathan moaned at the sight. He loved watching you cry. He’d seen it happen during sessions and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if you moaned while you cried. Now he knew. You were unable to keep quiet. Silent cries became sobs which became whimpers.

He caressed your tear-stained face, “Shhhhhh, hush now it’s alright. You’re doing so well.”

You tried to talk through your tears. “Please Jonathan- Dr. Crane, Make it stop!”

This time he went deeper. You yelped as you felt him hit a new part of you. “I’m not stopping until you tell me it feels good. Tell me, does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels good.”

“Yeah? Are you still frightened? Are you scared of me?”

“Yes.”, you admitted. It was hard for you to get out. How could you ever fear him? All he had ever done was help you. This was just another one of his unorthodox methods.

He bent forward and put his arms next to your ears, locking his fingers on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your body was limp as he continued fucking you into the floor. Your eyes closed; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

He shook your head slightly. “No, eyes on me. Look at me.”

You looked at him wide-eyed.

“Open your mouth.” You obeyed and he spit in your mouth. In all honesty, you savored the taste. It was another way of him claiming you.

“Swallow.” When you did he hummed contently. “Good girl.”

You felt something weird tightening in your core. “Dr. Crane. I feel like I’m gonna-“.

A long moan came out before you could finish your sentence. He fucked you as you rode your high and soon after his thrusts started to falter. He sat up and grabbed your hip to use as leverage. You mustered up as much energy as you could to move away from him, using your legs to drag yourself across the floor. He was much stronger than you at this point and he pulled you back.

“No, come here. You’re gonna stay still while I finish. Got it?”

The tears kept flowing, but you obeyed. You lied back as he came inside of you. He stayed inside of you for a minute, savoring the moment. You were tired and blissed out. He pulled out of you without a word. He watched as his cum dropped out of you.

“What a sight.”, he said matter a factly. He helped you sit up and wiped tears from your face with his thumb. He brought you close to him and kissed your forehead.

He got up and put himself back together again. He fixed his clothing, tucking in his pristine white shirt and fastening his pants. He fixed his tie and looked past you into a mirror.

Once satisfied, he grabbed a towel from his desk and cleaned you up. He helped you up to your feet and began dressing you. His demeanor was softer now. He took his time as he got you dressed. Once he was finished he helped you sit on the couch. You curled up into his side, seeking comfort from the man who had just used you.

You’d never felt more confused. You knew this shouldn’t have happened. Every boundary had been crossed. But, the special attention from him felt better than anything. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He let you sleep on him for a while before he got up to write notes on what had just occurred. He found his glasses, put them on, and returned to his desk to begin writing. He included your reaction to the “medication” and how receptive you were to the treatment.

You woke up about an hour later, confused. You looked around and recognized his office. The memories of earlier events came rushing back. You felt your cheeks get hot.

Jonathan looked up from the paper he was holding up. “Rise and shine.”

He grabbed a sheet of paper from your file. He attached it to a clipboard and grabbed a pen. He handed you the materials and you looked down. It was another questionnaire.

“Fill this out as accurately as possible.”

“What is it for?” You cleared your throat. He sat back down at his desk and picked up the paper he was previously inspecting. He looked at your file before looking back at you.

“Our next session.”, he replied.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #i proofread this but no one is perfect #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #dark jonathan crane #dark!jonathan crane #annie writes #dark jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #dr jonathan crane

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taestefully-in-luv · 13 days

Text

Summer Heat

Summary: You run into your ex Taehyung at a bar and go home with him just to keep hanging out. But perhaps Taehyung wants more. And so do you.

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: exes au, exes to lovers, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, dialogue heavy, communication, fingering, mention of oral, unprotected sex.

Notes: An exes to lovers Taehyung drabble request!!!! sorry it took so long...hope you enjoy anon! (and whoever else hehe)

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“Why did we break up?”

Did he ask that? Or did you? You aren’t sure who asked that. You just know that it’s been asked by one of you. The question floats in the air, the words growing bigger until they pop next to your ear. Your stomach stirs uncomfortably when the words echo a little, and finally, you realize it sounds a lot like your voice. You gulp.

“You don’t know?” Taehyung leans against the door frame, wood creaking before his arms cross over his chest. “If you don’t know then I definitely don’t know.” He suddenly smiles.

You’re wondering how you two ended up in his guest bedroom at his house. How you find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel neatly folded in your lap as you wait for Taehyung to leave the room so you can shower. You glance at the dresser where his clothes lay on top, ready for you to borrow. Wearing his clothes is…

“Sorry.” You look down, “I shouldn’t have asked honestly.”

“Why not?” His voice is teasing.

You look up again, “Because we spent the whole night talking about how the past is the past and I don’t know, it just felt nice to hang out. I don’t want to ruin any,” You motion your hands in the space between you, “Like…vibe we got going on.”

Taehyung laughs, his back relaxing more against the wall. “It has been fun, right? Who would have thought I’d run into you tonight.”

“I can’t believe its six in the morning.” You glance towards the window, a dark blue sky beginning to light up. “Thanks again for letting me crash here.”

“I’m the one who insisted we stay up.” Taehyung stretches his neck, a small smile still on his face. “We had, what was it? 5? 6 years to catch up on?”

“Something like that.” You smile back, shrugging a little. “Lucky tomorrow is Saturday and we don’t have to work.”

Taehyung gazes at you, the softness in his eyes hard to miss. “I think I would have stayed up no matter the day of the week.”

Your stomach tightens, “Oh yeah?”

“So why did we break up?”

He asks this time. The question now echoing in his voice.

“I don’t know really.” You answer, “We weren’t ready?”

Taehyung separates his back from the door frame, his legs taking him to the end of the bed where he sits next to you. “We were young?”

“And not ready.” You emphasize this time. “Right person, wrong time.”

“So are you going to let me know when it’s the right time?” Taehyung asks you, his voice quieter as he looks ahead. “Because who knows, maybe it’s still right person.” His eyes slide towards you, curiosity sitting in them.

You can’t help but quietly gasp to yourself, his curious eyes sharpening the more he gazes at you. You’ve been wondering all night. You’ve been wondering if there’s still something between you, especially because something electric has been bringing you closer the past few hours. But you didn’t know if it was your imagination.

Taehyung’s gaze drops down to your hand that rests against the mattress. His eyes trail up your bare arm and it feels as if his fingertips are grazing your skin.

“You think we’re still a good match?” You breathe out your words, your eyes falling to Taehyung’s bottom lip. “Or do your interests only lie in getting laid tonight?”

Taehyung’s eyes grow round, shocked at first before he chuckles, “Can it be both?”

You bite back another smile. “Maybe.”

It’s been five and half years since you and Taehyung called things off—well, since you called things off. In your eyes, it really was right person, wrong time. You aren’t sure if Taehyung agreed at that time because you didn’t really give him the chance to. That still stings a little. Probably more for him than you but seeing how lighthearted he’s been all night, you guess he’s over it.

Are you over it?

You kind of have to be.

“I remember you being a really good kisser.” Taehyung’s fingers crawl over to yours, his skin warm as he subtly touches you.

You bite down onto your bottom lip, another smile forming. “So this is about getting laid tonight.”

“Not at all. But maybe a part of it.” Taehyung taps his fingers before weaving them through yours. Then he pulls back. “But if you don’t want to do anything…”

“Who said that?” You find his dark eyes, “I might just be teasing you.”

“You’ve always loved teasing me.”

“Maybe I still do?”

“So, some things haven’t changed.” He teases back, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if some things were still the same. There’s some things I’m hoping are very different though.”

“Like what?” You can’t help but ask, your hand sliding closer to his again.

“One, I hope you stopped being such a picky eater. And two, you let me have an opinion about us.”

You feel that sting. It shouldn’t be you who feels it but you do. “Us?”

“Yeah.” He hums, his fingers suddenly between yours again. He leans closer to you, “I want to decide things too.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Taehyung naturally grows closer to you, his body suddenly pushing up against your side when he leans down and presses his lips against your bare shoulder. “If I should be in your life or not.”

You slowly close your eyes when you feel his warm breath before he places a kiss on your shoulder. Then another. And another.

He continues, “Last time, you decided without me. This time I want a say.” Another kiss.

You feel your stomach turn upside down, his lips confusing you while his words make you feel guilty.

“Taehyung.” You say his name, your voice uncontrollably insecure. “Are we talking about this now?”

Another kiss. “No.”

You open your eyes, your back straightening when you feel his arm wrap around your waist. It feels good and familiar. Yet you aren’t sure how to react.

“Is it crazy to say I’ve missed you?” Taehyung sighs out, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “It is, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have thought about you so much in these last few years.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

Your stomach flops again, but this time you feel intrigued. “What did you miss? Me? Or my lips? My mouth? My—”

“—Can’t I say everything?” Taehyung lifts himself, his eyes urging you to look at him. He stays close. “I missed your overthinking too, believe it or not.”

Your lips curl at the thought, his teasing working. “Oh yeah?”

“But I missed your hugs the most. When we hugged earlier…I swear I wanted to give you me right then and there.”

“Your vodka sodas make you chatty, don’t they?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles, “You aren’t used to it, right?”

“Considering you didn’t drink when I knew you, no. But it was fun drinking with you tonight.”

“You got kind of chatty too.” Taehyung decides to create space between you both, his body suddenly laying back on the bed. “Never been in love with anyone else since me?” He sounds proud. “Feels like that should have taken longer to admit—”

You hit his thigh with your fist, embarrassment hot on your neck. “Shut up, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Also, it’s the truth and I can’t change it.”

You’re turned to eye him, but you quickly look away before laying down yourself. You keep your hands together, resting on top of your stomach.

“I’m not sure I’ve really been in love either. Maybe. Maybe not.” Taehyung tells you. “I’ve definitely thought about you over the years though.”

“Like what?”

“Your mouth—”

You hit his thigh again.

He laughs this time, “Okay, okay. Like for example, I saw someone eating skittles a few weeks ago and it reminded me of you. How you eat them all except the purple ones.”

“I still don’t eat the purple ones.”

“Great.” Taehyung huffs out dramatically, “You’re still picky.” He turns his head towards you and you do the same, meeting his eyes. Your stomach flops again when he smirks at you. “Somehow I missed that, too.”

“Liar,” You can’t help but laugh. “You—”

“We still click, you know?” Taehyung cuts you off, his gaze sharp again. “I’d like to hang out again. But not as friends or anything…as…I don’t know,” He turns his head, eyes on the ceiling while he smiles sheepishly. “I want to see if we can make this work. Possibly.”

“Vodka sodas make you so loose-lipped.”

“Thank God, too. I’m saying all the things I want to say so I’m thankful for it.”

“Well….” You turn your body towards him, lifting yourself on you elbow, “What else do you want to say?”

“You’re very pretty. And I want to kiss you.” Taehyung mirrors his body to yours. He looks confident as usual but you see the nerves in his eyes. “I’m not kissing anyone else at the moment, if you’re worried about that.”

“I wasn’t.” You weren’t.

Taehyung has never been known for being a player, or messing with more than one girl at a time. If he’s showing interest in you then you know you’re the only one.

“I’ve been single for like 8 months already.” He tells you, “So I’m clean, too.”

“I…yeah, it’s been a little while for me too.” You glance towards the open door, “But also, you sound real hopeful this is going to go in your favor.”

“Please.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I know the way you’ve been looking at me all night. Catching up has been nice but there’s more going on here, right?”

He’s right.

“No.”

“Now you’re the liar,” Taehyung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But like I said, we don’t have to do anything. But I still want to see you again.”

You’re both sat up on your elbows, the distance small between you before you decide to be brave.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask.

Taehyung blinks at you for a moment, his dark eyes surprised.

“Just a kiss.” You assure him, your lips curling into a smirk. “One kiss.”

Taehyung holds his breath, seconds that feel like minutes pass. A small laugh finally leaves his mouth and his eyes fall to the bed. “Why am I suddenly nervous?” He admits. “As if I forgot how to kiss.”

“You were so confident earlier?” You tease him but you were positive you saw the nerves in his eyes and you were right.

“I think the vodka sodas helped and they’ve worn off at this exact moment.”

“How convenient.”

“It really is, isn’t it?”

You stare at Taehyung, his eyes going from yours to the mattress every few seconds before the strap of your tank top slides off your shoulder and his eyes glue to that extra inch of skin. It was a hot summer night, and a white tank top with some shorts is all the night called for.

You didn’t think you would run into Taehyung at a bar neither of you have been to. A night out with a couple of friends that happily ditched you to catch up with your ex.

“Why did we break up for real, y/n?” Taehyung’s eyes are back on yours. “I know but sometimes I doubt and question it.”

“Still?”

“You expect me not to?” He laughs a little but his voice is now the one that sounds uncontrollably insecure. “I was in love with you for so many years of my life. You were my best friend…”

You feel a sharp poke in your heart.

“I know.” You decide to sit up, your body slumping over a little. “I’m sorry.”

And you are. You’ve wanted to apologize for years.

“I know you’ve been sorry since the day we broke up.” Taehyung sits up too, his side pushed up against yours. Suddenly space isn’t necessary. “Don’t feel bad. I just want to hear you confirm your reason.”

You glance at Taehyung, eyes studying him. “I got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That I didn’t know myself yet. That it would have been better if we were older…more mature. I should have just talked to you. But I thought you’d agree. I just…” You stop, ripping your eyes away from him. “Wanted to make it easier for both of us at that time.”

“Okay.” Taehyung nods to himself. “It wasn’t because you stopped loving me?”

“No.” You don’t find the courage to look at him yet. “I still loved you.”

Taehyung bumps into your shoulder with his and you hear the lightness in his voice again. “We’re older? More mature? You think we could look at one another the way we did before?”

You straighten your back again. “You really want to try this again?”

“I really want to kiss you at the least.” He sounds teasing once more. “But yeah, I’d love to continue getting to know you and see where this might lead.”

“I offered to kiss you already but you chickened out.” You bump into his shoulder now.

“I know.” He laughs, “But turns out I did want to have the conversation now. Kind of want to kiss you even more now because of it.”

“Then kiss me now, if you want.”

You’re older now. More mature now.

Yet you’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, towel still folded in your lap, eyes on the floor and nerves surrounding you both.

Taehyung’s breath leaves his mouth in a warm puff and you feel it glide over your bare thighs. His nerves make you brave. You grasp the towel in your hands before placing it next to you and you turn your head towards the man you used to love.

He mirrors you, eyes still unsure.

“You’re cute.” You murmur. “And—”

Taehyung leans in closer, his eyes stuck on your lips. “It’s okay, right?”

You nod.

The warm breath you felt on your thighs now lingers over your lips. It makes you stop breathing.

He comes closer, his hand softly landing on your lower back, fingers slowly digging into your tank top as he grows closer and finally, you feel the skin of his lips touch yours in a kiss that becomes firmer the longer he stays. His kiss is so familiar that it will haunt you later.

Taehyung detaches for only a moment, catching his breath before he leans in again more confidently and you finally give him a response. Your lips slowly moving over his as you kiss him back, your hands sliding up his chest. So familiar. His tongue pokes out and you open your mouth just the slightest to grant his wish. You taste him now, and it’s also hauntingly familiar.

You feel your lower belly swirling and swirling, a tension growing between your legs and it makes you ache. You wish a few kisses didn’t make you this desperate already but when Taehyung feels your fingers slide up into his hair, he knows you desire more.

His tongue explores more freely and you moan into his mouth, the sound quiet and soft but it creates a stirring in Taehyung’s pants. He can feel himself grow harder. So, he kisses you harder.

You break away for a moment, lips wet and tingly. “You have a condom?”

“Already?” He asks, breathless. “Let me at least eat you out first.”

“I haven’t showered yet.” Your eyes slide to the side, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t care.”

“I care.”

His hands go to your shorts, fingers fiddling with the button. “Fingers?”

You think about it for a second, thighs squeezing together at the idea. “Okay.”

And his fingers are quick to undo the button on your shorts, and he pulls down the zipper. You quickly wiggle out of them, kicking them off of you, while they land somewhere on the floor.

“Cute underwear.” He tickles the skin above the band with his fingers, before they slide lower and you gasp. He begins rubbing them over where you ache. Your panties grow damper and damper, making it easy for him to move your underwear to the side, and his fingers dive into your wetness.

“Ah, Taehyung…” You become tense. Teeth digging into your bottom lip. “I—”

His fingers swirl over your clit, making you sigh out in content. They play here before he uses his middle finger to dive where you really want him. Finger massaging your entrance, before he adds another. Entering you, making you immediately relax once the moment you’ve been anticipating is over. He works to stretch you out, his eyes focused on yours, his tongue wetting his lips as he watches how you start to fall into a daze.

His fingers feel so good. They’re long and reaching the right places. He curls them, making you whine, head falling to his shoulder and he chuckles.

“Feel good?” He whispers, fingers working harder and all you hear is how they fuck into you.

You nod against his shoulder, a breathy laugh leaving your lips.

“I want you…” You admit, “Now.”

His fingers stop moving, his head suddenly nodding quickly and he slides them out. “Yeah.”

Taehyung brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them proudly and you don’t have it in you to tell him to stop. He wanted your familiar flavor. So, it can haunt him later too.

You stand, eyes on him as you take your tank top off. He stands too, helping you take off your bra and his eyes are glued to your chest, clouding over with lust. You reach for the bottom of his shirt and he helps you take it off his body. Shorts and boxers are next. You stare at his cock, the head of it throbbing and you feel your mouth water. Another time, you tell yourself.

You finally slip off your underwear and you stand here, gazing at one another and you both become dizzy.

“You’re so beautiful.” He tells you, hands reaching for your hips and he guides you to the bed again, laying you down. “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

“Me too.” You tell him, breathless and heated.

Taehyung crawls over your body and you feel how he moves his cock to enter you, moving slowly until he’s snug between your legs. You both sigh. Your walls tightening around him. He feels so good. And so familiar. He pushes himself further into you, your legs wrapping around his waist until you gasp to yourself, eyes shutting in contentment.

“You feel…” You can’t finish your sentence.

“Yeah.” He agrees, sliding out of you before thrusting back in. He repeats this motion a few, slow times. Letting his cock get soaked and pulled into your sweet core. He can’t remember the last time he felt this entranced. Maybe it was with you.

He starts fucking into you, the repeated motions are smooth and calculated. He’s trying his best to fuck you at the angle that is going to make you whimper. And he finally finds it. He moans into your neck, his hot breath making your skin moist. He starts kissing your throat.

You feel yourself growing tighter and tighter the more he firmly pushes in. You’re going to cum.

Taehyung starts thrusting faster, his kisses growing sloppy and he forces himself to slow down, his body trembling above yours. Oh, he’s really close.

“You’re so pretty…” He moans, his thrusts getting harder. “I fucking missed you, your pussy…everything.”

“Taehyung…” You wrap your arms around him, nails clawing at his back. “Fuck, just like that…I’ll cum.”

“Yeah. I know.” He smirks against your neck before he lifts his head and locks eyes with you. “Let’s cum together, y/n. Fuck,” His pace grows faster and you feel your insides crumble. He feels too good.

“I’m gonna—” You choke on air when he thrusts particularly hard, pushing into you so deep it makes your stomach tighten. He fucks you so deep you wonder how you could go without this any longer.

“y/n.” He chants your name, head falling into your neck again, whining against your skin and that’s all it takes for the band inside you to snap. You feel warmth gushing around his cock, dribbling out of you as you cum all around him and his hips thrust forward a few more times before he releases every drop of cum he can offer inside you.

Your body becomes limp, legs falling from his waist as you catch your breath, silently laughing as the euphoria continues to overtake you. Taehyung laughs too, breathing heavily above you, his eyes shining with happiness. You can’t miss it.

“We forgot the condom.” He tells you.

“I know.” You bite your lip, hiding another smile. You aren’t worried since you’re on birth control. “Maybe you can shower with me?”

He leans down to kiss you, smile all over his face. “Okay, and then I’m eating you out.”

#bts #bts smut #Kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #bts fics #taehyung fic #Drabble requests #taehyung x reader #taehyung drabble #bts drabble

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cleo-fox · 2 months

Text

Conquer

Part 1 of 3

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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celestie0 · 1 month

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choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown.

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!”

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!”

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music.

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic.

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex.

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair.

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours.

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage.

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder.

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage.

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it.

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants.

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there.

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.”

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?”

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex.

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface.

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition.

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving.

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot.

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering.

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of.

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest.

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in.

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast.

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment.

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all.

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again. His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you.

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.”

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous.

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, “Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough.

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.”

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out.

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day.

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized.

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

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wheresarizona · 9 months

Text

Bluebonnet

summary: Is Joel Miller your friend? No. You’re not even sure if he actually likes you or just puts up with you because of his kid. Then he kicks some guy's ass in a bar for getting handsy with you, and you’re starting to think maybe he might like you a little…

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Grumpy Joel Miller, Protective Joel Miller, Soft Joel Miller, age gap (unspecified but reader was born before the outbreak), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (f + m receiving), 69 position, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, slight breeding kink, Joel has a big dick, Joel being kinda a dick, a random guy harassing you then getting beat up by Joel, canon typical violence, icing Joel’s knuckles, feelings confessions, Ellie being Ellie and the star of the show, AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and their relationship is still good)

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

word count: 5.5k+

a/n: Literally, a scene in this woke me up from dead sleep at five in the goddamn morning, and I spent thirty minutes plotting the whole one shot while barely awake. This fic was very spur of the moment that I wrote in less than two days, so it’s unbeta’d. All mistakes are my own. Please be horny about Joel protecting you with me.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

Is Joel Miller your friend?

No.

Are you on friendly terms?

You thought so.

Joel isn’t the most social of fellas—he’s basically a feral cat that wants to be left alone.

If you aren’t friends with him, then how did you become the regular occupant of the seat across from his in the Jackson mess hall every breakfast and dinner?

The answer is simple: Ellie.

It all started months ago when you first got to Jackson and met the teen after being assigned to a job rotation with her. She was so excited about finding out you lived in Texas for many years before the world went to hell she invited you to eat dinner with her so you could meet someone, and that’s how you were introduced to Austin-native Joel Miller.

He’s a bit older than you, never smiles, and isn’t much of a talker but still polite enough to answer a question if you ask it, even if it’s more of a grumble at the start of the day. With Ellie, though, it was different. He talked to her, and his voice was like coming home after a long day and settling in on the couch—that familiar Texan accent making you feel all warm and comfy, his words wrapping around you like a tight blanket and taking you back to a time when things were good and safe.

The morning after the first dinner, Ellie had called you over to sit with them for breakfast, and again that evening, little bits of conversation happening between bites as you got a grasp on what the relationship was between this young girl and man—it was clearly father-daughter in nature even if she didn’t call him ‘dad,’ and you savored every word she wheedled out of him.

It got to the point where the teenager didn’t have to beckon you over, and you just knew to set your food down in the seat in front of Joel to eat with them, always smiling at Ellie giving him so much shit, chatting with them or more the young girl, with Joel occasionally offering clipped anecdotes, and you trying not to acknowledge his handsomeness—you weren’t sure if he even liked you or if he was just putting up with you for the sake of his kid.

He does have a lovely voice and is very attractive with those expressive chocolate-colored eyes that sometimes soften when he looks at his daughter; you could imagine his grey hair would be soft to the touch, and it’s obvious those full lips of his are kissable. Honestly, it’s surprising he’s not seeing anyone that you know of or Ellie is aware of, with how damn pretty he is.

His broad shoulders and how his flannels stretch over his chest.

His neck.

God, he’s sure nice to look at.

And Ellie is a great kid who trusted you, coming to you anytime she needed advice or wanted to talk about something, and you were happy to be there for her.

The breakfast and dinner routine had been going on for so long that even though Joel didn’t talk at length to you, you’d managed to learn quite a bit about him from questions he’d answer or conversations he had with his kid or brother in front of you. He definitely knew a lot about you, too.

Now, back to why you’re not sure if he likes you.

That morning when you went to breakfast, you were running on autopilot—piled your plate with food, grabbed your cup of shitty coffee that made you want to cry with how much you missed Starbucks, and set it all down in your usual spot, where you started to eat.

When your brain finally began working, that’s when you realized it was abnormally quiet at your table, and you looked up to realize Ellie wasn’t there—it was just Joel. He must have seen some kind of look on your face since he grumbled out she was with a friend. Then when you asked if he wanted you to sit somewhere else, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he told you no before going back to eating in silence.

That put a point in the maybe he wasn’t just putting up with you for the sake of his daughter column and made you smile a little the rest of the meal.

She wasn’t at dinner either.

This had you standing near your seat, chewing on your lip, debating on sitting elsewhere until Joel sighed loudly, setting down his fork to tell you in a tone that brokered no room for argument to sit, so you did.

After a few bites, you almost choked to death when he asked how your day was.

There was actual back and forth between just the two of you, and you were in heaven at how much he was speaking, another point going toward he might like you.

Those interactions had you feeling really hopeful, and you were excited for breakfast the next day, wondering if he’d try to talk to you more.

It’s been over half a year since you arrived in town, and you have managed to make some friends, who you knew for sure were your friends, and also closer to your age. When a couple of them asked if you wanted to get a drink that night and play some pool, you happily agreed.

The place is practically empty when you arrive.

Standing at the bar, chatting with your friend Mathias as you wait for the bartender to make your drinks, you can feel someone staring at you. Doing a quick glance of the room has your stomach dropping and is the reason you’re pretty fucking sure Joel doesn’t care for you; he’s sitting across the room at a table in the corner, glaring at you—not just glaring, if looks could kill you’d be deader than dead he looks so pissed off, and you’re about to go find out what his problem is when two things happen:

Mathias excuses himself to the restroom, and some man you’ve never seen, let alone spoken to, gets your attention on your other side.

“Hey.” The interloper squeezes your arm, which makes your head turn toward him, shaking him off.

“Don’t touch me,” you reply.

There’s nothing special about the guy—he’s probably younger than you, has floppy blonde hair, and a clean-shaven face, but something in his eyes made you feel uneasy.

“My apologies,” he says, putting up his hands placatingly. “This is my first night here, and I’m just trying to make a new friend. Have a drink with me.”

“Welcome to Jackson, and no, thank you, I’m here with friends.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind if you have one drink with me.” His voice goes lower, “We could have some real fun together.” He has the audacity to grab your ass, and you step out of his reach.

“I said don’t fucking touch me.”

The bartender has gone into the back, Mathias is nowhere in sight, and your other friend is in another room where the pool table is with the jukebox playing.

Something flashes in his eyes, and it has your heart pounding.

“Don’t be like that. Just one drink,” he says, coming closer.

You are readying to fight the bastard when all of a sudden, someone is grabbing his collar, and you see a fist connect with his face in a sickening crunch that makes you gasp.

Joel yanks the guy in front of him.

“She said not to fuckin’ touch her,” he grits through his teeth. “And that she didn’t wanna have a drink with you.”

“I’m sorry,” the other man wheezes, blood oozing from his clearly broken nose. “I’ll leave.”

“Yes, you fuckin’ will—after I teach you some fuckin’ manners.”

With that, he punches him again and again and again.

You’re no damsel in distress—you’ve survived the fucking apocalypse for the last twenty years practically alone and could easily fight your way out of dangerous situations. But having someone stand up for you and protect you? It’s really doing it for you, except you’re genuinely worried Joel will murder this man, so you move toward him.

“Stop, Joel!” you shout, pushing on his shoulder, and he does immediately, his eyes meeting yours. “He’ll leave; toss him out. Please, Joel. Don’t kill him.”

His chest rises and falls as he pants, nodding his head once before hauling the groaning man to the door and throwing him out. The bartender chose that moment to come back, as well as your friend.

There was a worried expression on Mathias’ face. “Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. The drinks are sitting on the bartop, and you gesture toward them. “I’ve got something to do, so take those for me, okay?”

Confusion is etched on his brow. “Okay…?” He strategically picks up the three glasses and heads for the other room with the pool table.

Your attention moves to the man behind the bar. “Hey, can I get some ice in a rag?”

“Sure thing,” he replies, going to the block and using the ice pick.

Joel didn’t return to you. Instead, he went back to his table like the last however many minutes didn’t happen, and it makes you sigh.

His mixed signals have you so confused you’re ready to just get it all out in the open.

The bartender hands you some ice wrapped in a towel, and you walk over to Joel, having to drag the seat across from his around so you’re next to him, seeing his right hand shaking around his glass with bloodied knuckles.

He won’t even look at you.

“Give me your hand,” you order him.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Give me your fucking hand.”

“No.”

“Stop being a stubborn asshole, and let me ice your fucking knuckles.”

“I said I’m fine.”

He won’t give you his hand, so you do the next best thing and press the ice against them while they hold his drink, Joel hissing at the coldness.

His head turns to glare at you.

“Don’t give me that look.” You glare right back. “I’m helping you.”

“I don’t need your help,” he practically spits out.

Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for what you’re going to say.

“We had a nice dinner,” you tell him.

His eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“We had a nice dinner with just the two of us where we talked—you didn’t smile, but it was the most you’ve ever said to me, and this morning, you let me eat with you. You’re not a people person, and I wasn’t sure if you liked me all that much, but our meals today made me think you might. Then tonight you were glaring at me—”

“When was I glarin’ at you?” he interrupts.

“Before that creep started getting handsy.”

“Oh, I wasn’t lookin’ at you…” His eyes dart away.

You’re confused.

“There’s like no one here. Who were you looking at?”

He sighs loudly. “Your boyfriend,” he mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Your boyfriend—the guy you’re here with.”

“Oh, Mathias? I’m not his type, and he’s already in a relationship. I don’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or a partner—I’m not seeing anyone. You should know this.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, so you weren’t glaring at me, you were glaring at my non-existent boyfriend, and then you came in hot like some knight in shining armor and beat the shit out of that asshole for doing me wrong. Sooo, you maybe like me?”

He looked at you with a squinted gaze, like the answer was obvious.

“I more than maybe like you,” he replies.

That has your eyes widening.

“Wait, in the romantic or platonic sense?”

“There’s no point in talkin’ about this,” he sighs, looking down at the amber liquid in his cup.

“Um, yes, there is because if I have a shot at breaking off a piece of this Kit Kat bar, I’d like to take it.”

His gaze met yours, and you could see the hope swirling in the dark pools.

“In the, uh, romantic or platonic sense?”

Smiling, you answer, “Romantic—I’ve basically been crushing on you since I met you. We’ve known each other for months, almost a year. You’re such a good father to Ellie, a hard worker around town, and you let some random person sit with you during your meals—”

It takes your breath away when he smiles softly and talks when you pause, “You’re not some random person, and I would’ve been stupid to turn away such a beautiful woman.”

“Oh, god, you’re hot and charming.” He chuckles, and your heart picks up in pace. “How are you making me like you more?”

“I don’t know, Blue.”

“Blue?”

“As in Bluebonnet.”

Which was Texas’ state flower and makes you feel so soft at how sweet the nickname is.

“I love it.”

The smile falls from his face.

“You, uh, don’t mind my age?” He scratches at his mustache.

Ellie had made you very aware of how old Joel was.

“No? I think you’re extremely attractive. Does the age difference bother you?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“What now?” you ask.

“Jesus, it’s been so fuckin’ long,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I guess I’ll court you—take you on a proper date.”

“Second option, that’s more immediate, and we can go with your plan tomorrow.”

He looks at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is Ellie home tonight?”

His eyebrows dip together.

“Yeah?”

Smirking, you say, “Okay, so why don’t we go back to my place, and I properly thank you for what you did tonight.”

You see his throat bob as he swallows, his voice going deeper when he asks, “How do you wanna thank me?”

A smile pulls up on your lips, moving forward to whisper in his good ear, “I was thinking I’d suck your dick.” His breath stutters. “Then have you fuck me however you want.” That makes him groan, and you grin.

His hand moves out from under the ice and up to cradle your face, along with the other, when his body turns, making you look him in the eyes.

“I was stupid for leavin’ you alone ‘cause I assumed you wouldn’t want anythin’ to do with someone as old as me.”

You snort. “Uh, yeah. You went a little hard with the leaving me alone, but I’ll forgive you if you kiss me right now.”

No other words are said. His mouth crushes against yours, swallowing your surprised sound as he kisses you hard. Your fingers end up tangling in his grey waves of hair, your heart hammering in your chest and pulsing at the apex of your thighs. It’s obvious he hasn’t kissed in a while, and you’re in the same boat, both of you figuring things out until there’s a rhythm, and things are heating up with a slip of your tongue into his mouth to slide along his. The need inside you builds and builds until your lungs start to ache for oxygen, and you break apart, his nose nuzzling yours as you both pant with a smile on your lips.

“Let’s go,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice.

He washed his hands before you left the bar, so it wasn’t obvious he’d just been in a fight.

Having Joel lead you through town is like having a big, scary dog on a leash with how people get out of his way. It’s a little surprising he even knows where you live when you find yourself walking through your front gate.

“How—”

“Ellie,” he answers before you even ask the question, his feet stomping up the two porch steps and you following. “She’s free to hang out with whoever and go wherever. I just ask she tells me where she’ll be.”

“That’s very ‘cool dad’ of you.”

You’re standing at the front door, him out of your way.

“She’s not allowed to leave Jackson without me. If I tell her to stay away from someone, she stays away from them. I expect her to be a model citizen and do the jobs she’s required to do. Unless we talked beforehand, she must be home in time for breakfast and dinner.”

“So, today, you knew it’d just be the two of us?”

“She asked last night to stay at Cat’s house.” That’s Ellie’s best friend. “They’re staying over at our place tonight.”

“Probably won’t even notice you’re missing then,” you say with a smile. The door’s unlocked, and you push it open before turning to grab Joel by the collar, pulling him in for a kiss as he walks you backward into the house with his arms wrapping around your back.

It’s a tangle of tongues, a clash of teeth, one of Joel’s hands moving to massage your breast while your fingers worked open the buttons on his shirt, him shrugging it off by the time you make it to your bedroom door you led him to. Once inside, he strips you first, spending quite a bit of time licking and sucking on your tits when they’re bared and stopping you when you try to work open his pants, learning he’s really fucking strong when he easily tosses you onto the middle of the bed.

Quickly, you’re sitting up on your knees, and you get a good look at the sizable bulge at the front of his jeans; Joel standing there with his hands on his hips, staring at your body with a hungry gaze, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. Scars are littering the golden expanse of skin on his front and arms of varying sizes, a newer one you spot on his lower torso, all of them telling you he’s fought like hell to make it to this point.

Shuffling forward, you’re tired of waiting, your hands going to the button on the front of his pants. Joel’s palm engulfs yours to stop you, his head tilting down to meet your confused eyes.

“You don’t need to suck my dick for what I did,” he says.

“Okay. What if I just want to suck your dick for the hell of it?”

His lips tip up in a crooked smile, and you’re enjoying seeing his different smiles.

“Then have at it, but I wanna lick your pussy until you come on my tongue.”

You suck in a breath, your cunt clenching hard around nothing.

“If you can get me off with your mouth, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.”

His eyebrow arches. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. You’ll be stuck with me.”

There’d been enough talking, so you deftly popped open the button and pulled down the zipper, grabbing the waistband to tug his jeans down his thighs. You’re pleasantly surprised he goes commando, and then you get a good look at his hard cock, and it’s glorious.

He’s thick, long, with a nice curve upwards, and you’re wondering if you’ll be able to fit him in your mouth—you’re definitely up for the challenge, licking your lips at the thought. Your fingers don’t even wrap all the way around him when you take him in hand, giving him a few quick strokes.

“Wait,” he says, stopping your movements.

“What?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Hold on,” is all he replies, getting his pants the rest of the way down, kicking them off, and removing his socks. Walking around the side of your queen size bed, you’re turning in place to follow his movements as he gets on the mattress with a groan and the springs squeaking as he moves to the middle, his legs on either side of you, grabbing one of your pillows to put under his head that he lifts to look at you. “Sit on my face.” It’s an order, and he pats his chest to show you he means it.

“I thought I was giving you a blow job…?” You point at his dick resting against his stomach.

“You are,” he replies. “We’re doin’ both. Now, get up here,” he orders again, his face grumpy, patting his chest once more.

“Sheesh,” you say, moving over his leg and up the bed, thankful you showered before you went out. “You’re really bossy when you’re horny.”

When you’re within reach, he replies, “I’ll show you fuckin’ bossy,” and he puts his strength to work again, grunting while hauling you onto him with your back to his head and legs along his sides. His hand lands on the side of your ass in a sharp slap that makes you gasp, feeling the wetness between your legs, coating your inner thighs. “I’m eatin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he says, positioning you over his face, his hand giving your asscheek another hard spank causing you to clench. “And you’re gonna wrap that gorgeous fuckin’ mouth around my cock.”

You can’t respond because all train of thought leaves your brain when his mouth latches onto your cunt, feeling him groan into your sensitive skin, the sensations making your toes curl, and fire erupt in your center.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you moan. “It’s so good. It’s so fucking good.”

It takes a deep breath for you to focus on your task, spitting on your hand before grasping his hard dick in your palm, the tip red and shiny with his arousal, lowering your face to take him into your mouth. He’s salty on your tongue, your jaw open as wide as it will go as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head, stroking the considerable amount that won’t fit.

His hands have a firm grip on your hips, pulling you farther down on his face, and you’re really worried he’s going to suffocate while he eats you out like a man starving. Pleasure in winding in your belly, tighter and tighter, with how he’s licking at your folds, your eyes rolling back in your head when he sucks your sensitive little clit between his lips.

He’s really going to make you come, and it feels so fucking good you’re having a hard time sucking his cock, so lost in what he’s doing to you—saliva is dripping out of your mouth and down his shaft, making your hand slide easily along him while you have half a mind to suckle on the head of him.

You hit your breaking point suddenly, the coil inside you snapping, your body tensing up as you come with a loud moan, euphoria spreading out from your core. Joel groans into your cunt, his tongue pushing inside your sopping entrance to taste your release straight from the source, his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing hard.

He must get his fill because he moves you off his face, hearing him take a deep breath.

“My good fuckin’ girl,” he says through panted breaths, rubbing your hips, his words causing a shiver to move down your spine. “Am I stuck with you?”

You’d given up on blowing him, your forehead resting against his thigh.

“Yeah,” you slur, sounding drunk. “How are you single?” It’s been a while since you’ve had that good of an orgasm.

He sighs and taps your hip. “Turn around, baby.”

Doing your best to turn, Joel helps you, getting you to straddle over his lower torso, your hands finding their place on his warm, flushed chest, seeing the grey hairs of his beard shining with your arousal and his lips frowning.

“Like you said earlier,” he says. “I’m not a people person.”

Your eyebrows knit together.

“I’m people…”

“No, you’re not. You’re my Texas Bluebonnet—my Blue.” His large palm comes up to stroke your cheek.

You’re wondering something. “Why did you talk to me at dinner?”

A sheepish look comes over his face. “‘Cause we were alone, and I didn’t have to worry about Ellie teasin’ me in front of you about my crush.”

“She knows?”

He grimaces. “Suspects. Since there’s only three people on this godforsaken planet I like, and you’re one of them.”

“And I’m the only one who’s not family—oh, that’s obvious.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, how do you want me?”

He looks confused. “Huh?”

“I said you can fuck me however you want,” you answer, sliding your hands up his pecs. “How do you want me, babe?”

When he smiles this time, you get a glimpse of his teeth. “Ride me.”

His answer has you grinning. “Cowgirl, like a true Texan.”

“I just love your tits,” he says, his big hands palming them.

“Good to know,” you reply with a wink.

Sitting up on your knees, you scoot back to get over his hips. His dick is still wet with your spit when you grab it and slide it through your folds before positioning him at your entrance.

There are nerves swirling in your belly, your eyes landing on his dark ones as you slowly start to drop down, seeing his mouth fall open with a gasp, his hands grabbing onto your thighs. You knew there’d be a stretch, but he’s bordering on uncomfortable in how your walls have to expand for his size, feeling the slight burn. When you finally bottom out, you’re beyond full—you’ve never felt fuller, and it takes your breath away.

“Jesus Christ,” his words are said through his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t move.”

His hard cock is throbbing inside you.

“Been a while?”

“Yeah.”

“Same. You’re so fucking big I’m gonna be sore after this.”

His dick jerks as he groans, “Don’t say that.”

“Damn, you’re that close?” you ask, soothingly stroking your hands over his chest.

You watch as his eyes blink open, the grumpy expression you’re used to appearing on his face.

“Don’t make fun of me.” He slaps your ass. “I haven’t fucked in a long time, and now I’m inside the perfect pussy—you’d be strugglin’ too if you were me.”

“I’m not making fun of you, Joel.” You lean forward to cup his cheek, feeling prickling stubble under your palm. “I think it’s hot. Like, you have no idea how flattered I’d be if I made you come right away—talk about an ego boost.”

He doesn’t look convinced, his eyes narrowing.

“Are you just sayin’ that to make me feel better?”

“Nope.” To prove your point, you sit up, bracing yourself with your hands on his chest as you start circling your hips.

His mouth goes slack, his eyes widening, a choked noise pulling from his throat that makes you smirk. “Fuck,” he pants. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, his cheeks a rosy pink. “You fit me like a fuckin’ glove.”

You’re slowly building into an up-and-down motion, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock rubbing against spots you didn’t know existed, sparks of pleasure igniting in your center as you throw your head back.

He must get a hold of himself because both of his hands come down on each of your asscheeks in loud, resounding smacks before he’s gripping them to help you move.

Looking down at him, there’s concentration on his brow.

“Your tight little pussy is takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” he says, hearing the wet sounds where you’re joined. “You love how I stretch you open?”

“Yes,” you moan.

You’re moving a little faster, moving up, and falling down a little harder, making the fire in your belly get hotter and hotter.

“Lean down.”

Doing as he says, your hands are on either side of his head while he continues helping you ride him. He lifts his face to pull a pebbled nipple between his lips, and the pleasure shoots straight to your pussy, making you gasp and more arousal spill around his length.

He laves at one bud, then the other as you work yourself up, the new angle allowing the coarse hairs at the base of his cock to rub deliciously against your clit, and you know you’re close.

Joel is groaning loudly, clearly in heaven, with his dick inside you and his mouth on your tits.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he says around your hard nipple. “You gonna let me feel you squeeze my dick? Let me fuckin’ have it. Be a good fuckin’ girl and give it to me.”

It’s all too much, everything coming to a head as you fall over the edge with a cry of his name, clenching so hard around him, you’ve stopped moving with his cock buried to the root, pleasure radiating through your body.

Joel’s breathing hard under you, and you don’t sound any better while you come down from your high.

His arms suddenly hug you close to him, and you squeak in surprise when he flips you onto your back with his dick still inside you and his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs. Lips find yours in a searing kiss, moaning as you taste yourself, welcoming his tongue when it slips into your mouth to tangle with your own.

He starts moving to chase his high, his thrusts hard and fast.

The bedsprings are squeaking loudly, the headboard banging into the wall, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking his cock and your muffled moans paired with his muffled groans. There’s no mistaking what’s happening in this bedroom, and you just hope your neighbors don’t complain in the morning.

Your fingers have threaded into his hair, your bodies sweaty, his lips leave yours, opening your eyes to see his face screwed up like he’s in pain.

“Where do you want it?” he grits out.

If he’s asking, then he knows the risk.

“Inside.”

He opens his eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

It is a rare thing to want these days.

“Yes.”

His pace speeds up, grunting as he pistons into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, feeling his hot breaths.

“You can fuckin’ have it,” he grunts. “Fuck you full of me—milk me fuckin’ dry. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You know he’s close when his thrusts get jerky, then he’s pushing in hard one last time with a guttural groan, feeling the hot spurts of his come filling you, his hips continuing to roll until they finally come to a complete stop. It’s obvious he’s wrung out with how he practically collapses on top of you, but you welcome the weight, pushing your fingers into his hair and scratching at his scalp, which receives appreciative hums.

Minutes pass that neither of you speaks.

“‘M sorry,” the words are murmured into your neck.

“For what?” you softly ask.

“Makin’ you think I didn’t like you.”

“It’s kinda my fault, too. I mean, I am aware you don’t like people but you’ve eaten two meals a day with me for almost a year, so obviously you must like me somewhat.”

His head comes up with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips frowning.

“I like you more than somewhat.”

You smile. His hair is a mess, and you go about combing your fingers through it as you say, “Yes, I know that now. You like me.”

“I do.”

“And I like you.”

“Good.”

“I said you’re stuck with me, so can this be more than a one-time thing?”

His eyes squint in that same way where he thinks something is obvious.

“What?" he says. "I’m not lettin’ you go anywhere. You’re mine—my Blue.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re mine, too.”

He kisses you passionately, and you lose yourself in it for a second until a thought has your eyes flying open and you pushing his face away.

“What?” he asks, bewildered.

“How are you going to tell Ellie?”

“Shit. Uh, we can sit her down tomorrow night—”

“No, this is a conversation you need to have with her alone.”

He winces. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow night after dinner...”

Is Joel Miller your boyfriend?

He absolutely hates you giving him that label, grumbling he prefers partner, but yes, he is your boyfriend.

Did Joel sneak out of your house in the early morning hours to his own so Ellie wouldn’t know he was gone all night?

Also, yes.

It’s the morning after, and you’re trying to act normal, ignoring how nervous you feel and the soreness between your legs as you sit down in your usual spot in front of Joel with your plate of breakfast. He’s changed into clean clothes and looks like he hasn’t slept, sipping on one of the two cups of shitty coffee in front of him, Ellie next to him already digging into some oatmeal with her spoon, which makes you realize—

“Ah, fuck,” you say, both of them looking at you. “I forgot to grab a fork.”

“I’ll get you one, baby,” Joel says as he sets his coffee down and starts to get up.

The three of you go completely still. Your eyes are wide, Joel’s close in regret, his cheeks turning pink, and Ellie looks like she’s going to explode with excitement until—

“You guys FUCKED!” she shouts.

People around the mess hall turn to stare.

“Ellie,” Joel hisses, his head whipping toward her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says in a quieter voice, the rest of the room returning to eating. “I knew it! It’s about fucking time! So when are you getting married?” She’s looking between the two of you. “You know, I’ve always wanted a mom! And a brother! I’ll settle for a sister, though. Is she moving in with us, Joel?” She’s staring at him expectantly with a grin.

Joel’s face is bright red. “I’m gettin’ the fuckin’ fork,” he grumbles as he gets up from his seat.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @absurdthirst @littlemisspascal @pedrostories @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @thefictionalgemini @lol-im-done @koryianders @flyingmushroomss @abbyhaslongshorts @savage-aespa @sofietargaryen @kpopslur @superflymaterial @virtuallia @shaunthesheesh @marsroxx @whore4dilfs @majdoline @mandowhatnow @autobotgirl15-blog @lentil-s0up @myloveistoolittle @squirtlebob @joliettes @aonungs-tsahik @javierpenasimp @thewayiknowyou @magic-magnoliaa @vanemando15 @eddiemunscns @gracie7209 @fan-fiction-floozy @butterscotch-mafia @deliriousfangirl61 @khaylin27 @notyourlovemonkey @a-wild-haggis @scorpiomindfuck @fandomandotherthings @seitmai @myswficlist @call-me-doll-face @fictionalmenloversblog @addisonnie @shaekirk @bitchwitch1981

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #wheresarizona writes

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wonwoonlight · 10 months

Text

when mingyu takes jungkook's advice but forgets about one (1) thing

fluff // idol!au // mingyu is dumb in love // sex implied but this drabble is nothing but fluff!!!!!

It's three in the morning when Mingyu turns on the live.

He's still high on adrenaline for some reason; the whole day has been great and not one single thing went wrong even though some schedules got him worried at first. His meals were all exactly to his liking, his exercise went like a breeze, and he got to see you.

Perhaps the last one is what makes him so high. After all, it's been a little over a month since he saw you and finally being able to see you and feel you... gosh it was the closest feeling he would describe as euphoric.

You're currently sleeping in his room, blisfully unaware that your boyfriend has turned on his live just one room away.

"Hi." He grins and waves at the camera. "If you remember I told you some time ago that I'd start listening to a certain senior... here I am."

He fixes his hoodie over his head, happy that the fans seem happy with his wardrobe: a grey sleeveless hoodie with nothing underneath.

"I look like your boyfriend?" His grins widen, his mind flying to you. "Your boyfriend must be very handsome then."

"Hmmm, why do I look happy when it's 3 in the morning? Why? Am I not allowed to be happy at this hour?" He comes closer to his screen to look at the comments. "I'm not drunk! But I might’ve had a liiiiittle bit of alcohol earlier."

The live continues on like that, and between all the crazy things he's seen Jungkook did, he's starting to see why the guy is fond of doing lives at this hour. As an idol, he's usually wide awake at ungodly hours, and even though he knew the company and Seungcheol would have his head tomorrow, he can't be bothered to care at this moment.

He's blaming it on the alcohol too. But by the time he even remotely considers something might go very wrong, he's having too much fun with his fans and he's way too drunk on the happy feeling from everything that has happened during the past 24 hours.

"It's okay. If I get scolded then I get scolded." He addresses the fans' concerns. "They probably won't reupload this so consider this a present for all of you here, okay? Let's have fun while we're at it."

"Mmmmh. Is there nothing fun? Tell me something fun." He frowns as he squints at his screen, trying to read through the comments.

"What I'm wearing underneath this?" He grins teasingly and tugs the neck of his hoodie. "What do you think?"

It's seconds later that the comment section goes crazy, and he blinks in confusion, trying to see why people are screaming. It doesn't help that no one gives him any context until he finally catches one single comment that gets his heart beating so loud he can hear it on his ears.

Was that hickey on your collarbone???

He continues to play stupid, answers some questions that he made up in his mind while pretending to look for one in the comment sections, stays on live for another five minutes before he says he's starting to get sleepy so he needs to go.

He stares into space for a good ten minutes after he turns off the live.

He's fucked.

He's so fucked.

How the fuck is he going to explain this to the company and all of his members tomorrow? At least he's actually been considering going public with you for quite some time, have talked about it with his members and the company also, but this isn't how he imagined it would be.

Biting his lip, he's too lost in his thoughts to realize you've stepped out of your room, looking a little lost also, wondering why he's in the living room.

"Why are you not in bed?" You ask adorably, rubbing your eyes as you plop on the sofa besides him. "And why is your phone propped like that?"

His arm wraps around you and pulls you to his chest, already imagining not having to hide you away anymore after whatever hurricane that will pass tomorrow.

But.

First thing first.

"Babe." He squeezes your shoulder, already feeling sorry at your sleepy hum because he's sure you won't be sleepy after this. But whatever, imagining his future self showing you off to everyone is going to be worth it.

He grins when you look up in confusion, the dangerous grin that you know is up for trouble.

"We might have a problem. "

#mingyu scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu au #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scenario #khione.fics #mingyu scenario #mingyu imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen au #mingyu x reader #mingyu drabble #seventeen drabble #seventeen fanfic #mingyu fic

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bangytell · 3 months

Text

A cheating way jk| m

Don't believe in fairytales, but we got our fantasies And it's me and you, no she. Doja Cat— You right

Summary: Marriage isn't always a good fortune, or perhaps its only the person you married.

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut

Rated: mature

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Non idol au! Infidelity, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of the use of alcohol, pet names, mentions of Namjoon, oral(f! receveing), unprotected sex, praise kink and I think that's all

a/n: I know some of you might have already seen this, im re-uploading, please be nice with your comments. Enjoy

The music pounding waves through your now drunk body as you dance along to the beat, and you feel a warm body approaching from behind you, too drunk to care that you sway your hips along his warm body, he chuckles into your skin and you feel a tickle.

“Didn't know you're that fun to be around” his voice was deep and hypnotic

You didn't reply, but you looked as his curious look traveled up and down your body, the music was still so loud, and the dizziness of your thoughts made you believe that the best decision you could make is to kiss him.

You don't. You sit with your friends and try not to be wasted any longer. Your friends are laughing at some joke, and you focus your attention on the dance floor. He's not around anymore. You begin to feel that he was just some fantasy of your imagination.

“Are you [Name] Kim?” The question comes from the man next to you. It's none other than him

“Why would I give you that information?” he smiles wide, and your heart skips a beat

“Well, gorgeous, you don't really have to, I know that is you” you arch an eyebrow

“How can a kid know me” his smile never leaves his mouth as he answers back

“How about I show you?” You shake your head in denial

“Look, honey, just get yourself home and forget about me”

“That's impossible” you chuckle “Even if I leave, you'll be in my mind” You show him the ring adorning your ring finger. He chuckles as you look confused

“I'm not jealous” he leans in, and you get a soft sniff to his cologne. It's sweet and intoxicating

As the night continues, he doesn't leave your side he tells you more about himself and he listens as you answer to his question, he looks and focus on your eyes, your friends are on the dancefloor and after another five drinks and the smell of his cologne closer and closer to your body lets him leave a hand on your thigh, you're laughing and his face is next to yours, his hot breath on your temple and you smile as you ask him: “And what's your name?” he chuckles and leads a hand to cup your face

“Jungkook, and don't worry, you'll be saying it a lot tonight” You chuckle again, and he kisses you softly and hungrily his lips are soft, and so are his hands all over you.

The ride holding his back as he drives off on his bike to the nearest yet decent motel makes your stomach bubble up in excitement, you're married yes, but at this point there's no turning point.You arrive, he pays and leads you inside the room. He kisses you, and tries as hard as you can, to forget all your life's problems, and he notices how stiff your movements are and how difficult it is for you to live in this moment.

“Is everything okay, doll?” You sit on the bed and cover your face with your hands

“I'm sorry, you're probably thinking I'm pathetic” he shakes his head in denial and kneels in front of you

“Talk to me” you lock gaze with him, and he seems to have forgotten about the horniness in his body

“I don't think this is a good idea” he nods and you talk again “You're amazing, and you make me feel wanted, desired, like a woman and not like someone's trash”

“Why would you have such confidence in you?” You huff

“My husband, he's been unfaithful since the fourth month of our marriage, and we've been married for ten years now” you sigh, reminiscing how happy you were the first months

“And why haven't you divorced?” You huff

“It's a long story” his hands are on one of your thighs, caressing it as you sigh exasperated “Our families practically set our marriage from our cribs, he's been a heartthrob and I just play my part”

“Is there any reason why you couldn't leave now? You must have some money of your own, and I know you have a career, so maybe you, you can…” you hold his hands

“Don't feel so frustrated for me, we can forget about each other the next morning” he sighs

“And if I don't want to?” You look at him in surprise. He cups your face and leans for a peck

“Jungkook… I don't think this is good for you nor me”

“Then just give me this night, give me just one chance to make you think of me” You sigh. His sweet touches and kisses make you agree as he hovers your body on the bed.

His kisses are wet and sloppy as your hands travel around his back, discharging his shirt, you take a moment to look at his wingspan and just at the sight your cunt yearns for him. He helps you take your dress from your head and notices the lack off bra, he cups your breasts with his hands and your body quivers at the cold breeze of the winter, soon his mouth has your nipple around his teeth, licking and sucking on one another making you moan his name and he hums into your skin, as a meal he enjoys. One of his hands is caressing your stomach, traveling down to discharge your panties and your hands are pulling his hair, the sound of his mouth making a wet mess all around your breasts makes you shiver. And he adores the taste of you, the smell of your perfume as he leaves a trail of kisses making his way to your pussy.

He might be young but he knows exactly where and how to get you started, his tongue presses against your clit and loud pants leaves your mouth, soon, his licks become precise and slowly. He's taking his time eating you out, making your toes curling, and a moaning mess. Your hands are once again on his hair, swirling the strands of hair as you moan and mewl his name.

He adores the way you say his name, the saccharine moans that leave your mouth and the way one of your hands is gripping the sheets in a attempt so stop the way your body keeps meeting his mouth, the way you close your thighs and try to swirl around him, his hands hold you in place as you shout “ ‘m cumin!” He continues the pace he has as you close your eyes, gripping the sheets stronger and letting your juices go through Jungkook's tongue. You're panting as he pulls his pants down, he gets you comfortable as his tip slides against your clit and he moans at the sloppiness of your cunt. He gets inside of you with a guttural sound from his mouth, he grips from your arms as he pounds into you, harder yet slow.

“You take me in so well… almost like ngh… almost like your pussy made for me” he moans your name and looks in your eyes, he enjoys the way you're not able to maintain the contact, the way you're saying his name and the way your skin sounds every time he crashes into you.

he's pounding, bullying your walls as you scream at the overstimulation, his hands are now around your neck and you know he's done this before, by the way you're feeling the lack of blood through your head, his pace fastens, his movements are less precise and he cums into you with a guttural moan. The weight of his body on you and the heavy panting makes you feel in bliss. He chuckles as he pulls away from you and the sticky feeling has him giving you a worried look.

“Don't worry ‘bout it” you chuckle, he gives you your clothes and as you dress you feel his gaze upon you “you're going to wear me out”

“You're so beautiful” you chuckle and pat the empty space in bed, he lays with you and cuddles as you doze off to sleep.

In the morning the bed was empty, only a small trace of his cologne makes you remember the night before. There's a small note on the nightstand, he has pretty handwriting.

If you still want to give me moments to remember, call me

His phone number with a small heart drawing.

The ride home was automatic, nobody was waiting for your arrival and that made your heart clench.

You call the number on the note, wondering if it was the right decision, you're getting yourself full of bad decisions.

“Hey, doll” you smile

“How did you know it was me” he chuckles

“I've been answering every call from my work hoping that it was finally you” your heart skip a beat

“Are you free tonight?” you bite your under lip anxiously

“For you, I'm free now” you chuckle

“No Jungkook, I have some meetings today, so at night maybe…” he might believe I'm pathetic

“Alright, but I'll take you to dinner before, don't worry I'll text you the address, bye doll” he hangs up and you hear your front door opening, is your husband.

“Hey [name] I'm just looking for something don't wait for me tonight” you huff

“Your mom called, she wanted to know if-...” he cuts you mid sentence

“I know, she called me earlier, since you can't leave even a text” you scoff

“Go to hell Namjoon” he smiles and grabs his coat on the door

“Already there babe” a loud thud leaves you alone in that big house again.

Your day is filled with the reminiscence of the memories from the amazing night he gave you. You have a smile like no other, and as the night arrives, you're back at your house. He texted the address of a nice restaurant, you hear the front door, and your husband appears at your dorm.

“going somewhere?” he grins, and you find that… odd

“not like you care” you answer bitterly, and he chuckles

“you wouldn't like to be messing with your perfect reputation, are you?” You chuckle this time

“stop acting like you even care about me, ‘m out” you leave, and his words are a muffled sound as you walk away, you won't allow him to walk you like that ever again.

The restaurant is further away than what you had in mind, but everything looks perfect as you arrive, there is a host welcoming you and you realize as the host walks you to his reservation that every table is inside a room, you couldn't hear nothing more than the sounds of your heels hitting the floor.

A slide door opens, and Jungkook has a rose in his hands as he welcomes you inside. He gives you a peck on your cheek, and you feel the heat coming through them.

“You look beautiful, angel” you smile and sit down. The host has long been gone, and as you too chat about your day, a waitress comes in

Jungkook orders, asks you if that's okay with you and you nod in agreement, the fact that he's so considerate about you, he cares about your opinion, and overall he just seems so good to be true.

The night goes smoothly, you laugh and be touchy with him all the time, around his chest, his back, his hands, and he does the same with you. It is an impossible task to try and keep your hands to yourselves.

“Is there a way I can have you tonight?” you giggle as he caresses your back, the wine in your system has you dizzy enough

“ ‘m here” he chuckles, you're sitting besides each other and yet, he pulls you to his lap, his hot breath on your neck and his hands are on your waist.

“You know what I meant gorgeous” you shake your head in denial and he kisses the gap between your neck and your shoulder, your body shivers.

“I do know, nevertheless, ‘m not positive this is a great idea” he nods, kissing your neck and stealing a sigh from you

“Don't think about it, do you like me?” you lock gaze with him and nod “Then just do it” you cover your face for a second, unsure of how this will impact in your future, his warm hands take yours out of your temple “ can't force you into wanting this but” his hands pull you to him, his hot breath now on your breasts as he leans for a kiss on your skin “I think that you shouldn't think about good or bad, but what actually makes you feel something” you nod and pull him into a needy kiss, his lips are always soft and his breath smells to wine, his cologne is intoxicating every reasonable thought in your brain.

After that night, many more had come, for a week you've been seeing him in motels and the restaurant, he texts you how much he misses you during the day, and he fucks you dumb at night just so you won't miss him that much the next morning–which you actually do–Two long weeks now and for this one night you can't see him, your husband hosts a party at you house and you have to attend.

You wear a beautiful champagne dress with your hair up and every guest gives you compliments as you walk through the room. Your husband has you from the waist as you try to smile to the guests he's going on and on about how gorgeous you are, and how he feels he won the lottery–all lies of course– the night goes smoothly, at midnight almost everyone is out, your husband is holding hands with a pretty young woman, he's too drunk to even care about being watched, you say goodbye to your guests as you see them walk off, to your bed. You follow them, the girl giggles at some stupid joke he just made, you hear the door opening and you rush yourself to not let them use the bed you're sleeping in tonight.

“Namjoon, you better not be planning on fucking her on my bed” he scoffs

“It's also my bed, so I do what I'm pleased” you sigh, grabbing the girl from her arm and pulling her beside you

“Leave, both of you” she looks scared and you try to look calm to her, she nods and walks away as your husband stands and push you “You didn't just do that to me”

“You always ruin my fun” you scoff

“Namjoon, just take the guests room, and get away from me”

“I thought that by giving you someone to fuck you'll be more accessible” your breath stucks on your throat, you look at him perplexed at his words

“What do you mean?” he looks at you

“You actually believed that a young handsome man would wanna fuck you for free?” he spits and you shake your head in denial

he wouldn't, would he?

“You're too old for that” he chuckles and your blood boils in anger.

“Leave” he scoffs “you can't hear me? leave!” he stands and walks towards you

“you'll regret this” he walks past you and leaves your house.

you cry your eyes out all night until the sun travels to your eyes making you wake up, your phone is buzzing, the name of your mother on the screen and after a long sigh you answer.

“can you explain to me why Namjoon’s mother just called me all hysterical?”

“well mother hello to you too, good morning” you huff

“This is a serious matter [name] they’ve been our friends since high school”

“So, you're telling me that she’ll stop being your friend just because I don't wanna continue being married to his stupid son?” You scoff

“no! is not that, but… we have a business they are our biggest investor, we could…”

“if this is ‘bout money, I have money” she sighs, and your doorbell announces a guest “gotta go mom”

when you open the door, you wouldn't expect it to be Jungkook, messy hair and heavy breaths, and that desperate look on his eyes… It is also filled with guilt

“Am I welcome in?” You lift an eyebrow in response

“Why should I let you in?” You scoff, and his soft features soften at your harsh tone

“listen, I know that idiot made me look…”

“just as an idiot, such as him” he nods at your interruption

“ ‘m aware, but please listen and understand me”

“I shouldn't” he nods in response and gazes at you with his big doe eyes

“but please…” you sigh and let him in. You close the door behind him, and as soon as your hands are free, he holds them. “he did offered me money, we had a deal… and ‘m a stupid college student with two part time jobs he sweetened his deal” you don't talk, you only gaze upon him in disbelief “he told me to get you to bed and then he'll give me the money”

“how much?” he shake his head in deny

“I didn't got a penny from him” you look surprise

“but you…”

“I wanted you to feel the same way I felt by meeting you, you changed me, changed my view of the world, my life wouldn't be the same without you” his words sound sincere and his desperate look makes you believe in him

“he said…” your voice gets muffled by his lips, he holds and cups your face and waist closer to him

“Angel… please believe me” he kisses you once more, gently and caressing your blushed cheek

“I dunno Jungkook, I'm older than you and…” he scoffs

“You're only like eight years older than me and I really don’ care ‘bout that” you chuckle

“ ‘m only twenty eight Koo” he chuckles

“see? even better, and yes, keep calling me that” you chuckle as you give in to his embrace

“I was thinking maybe calling you… love” he hugs you closer, the strands of hair touches your face and his hot breath lights something within you

“You believe me?” you nod, even if Namjoon has told you something he's always looking for a way to hurt you, Jungkook kisses you once more and you feel like melted ice cream into his arms, your hands try to grip from his shoulders as the kiss deepens his hands wander around your back till one of his arms helps you from the knee for him to carry you to the bedroom–by your directions– You're quite unsure of the moment, you've only decided to believe in him, this is still being in an affair, he's still that young man and anxiety kicks in. his lips and hands undressed you as he kissed every inch of skin he found.

“Is everything okay doll?” you nod and he stops his movements “you don't seem good” you sigh

“I don’ wanna think ‘bout that now” you kiss him and pull his shirt and notice a playful grin on his lips, he’s so husky and big for a man his age, you caress his soft and warm body as the rest of the clothes that remain on each of you leaves your body.

You don’t care, it has only been two or three weeks. You know your feelings are true and even if he doesn’t feel it in the same intensity you can enjoy it while it lasts.

Soon his mouth found the way to your dripping cunt he licks and sucks in the way he knows you'll see stars sooner than later. your hands grip to the sheets while saccharine moans escape your breath as his tongue rides you along your orgasm. He licks off the rest of the juices that left your pussy and he hums in content at the sight of it, you're drunk of his features, of his husky body embracing you closer to slide his cock along your folds, with a pant and a moan from him as he slides inside your walls his thrust are slow and his gaze is

fixated on you, the way you are hugging him closer and your hot breath is on his ear as his movements become faster and harder.

“You feel so good doll…” he moans as your nails grip his back youre leaving mark for sure and he doesnt care at this point, he loves how desperate you sound as he fuck you dumb. his hands are between your ears and the silver chain moves along him, he’s so dreamy you wanna make sure you're awake to be feeling this way, to be so filled with him.

Jungkook pulls away from your body but his pace doesn't change, now his thumb caresses the nub of nerves to pull you into another orgasm, only the sound of your skin crashing each other's body fills the room. He praises at your moans, at the way you call his name in a desperate mewl. You need him deeper if that's even possible. You need him to fill you up and as he continues you soon reach another orgasm as he, with a guttural moan fills your cunt with his cum. You're dripping while he enjoys seeing the way your hole clenches in search of his cock once more, as if its never enough, cause its not. He gets up to dress again, you cover yourself with your favorite silk robe as the door opens and your husband gasps in surprise.

“You… whore…” he attempts to reach you, but Jungkook quickly steps up in front of you, he’s only in pants and you notice the way he’s almost bursting in anger.

“Don’t call her that” he’s voice is harsh and almost too deep

“And who do you think you are kid?” he tries to push him, but Jungkook doesn’t move

“C’mon Namjoon, don’ do this” he gasps and step away

“You fucked in my bed and you have the audacity to ask me not to do things” you scoff

“You've done it too, many, many times, and I just got tired of your cheating ass” he huffs

“I’ll ruin you” you scoff and step up from behind Jungkook “And your family too” you scoff at his intent to try to intimidate you

“Leave my house” you say in response, he gasps and tries to grab your arm “Aint saying things twice Namjoon”

“You'll never see the end of this” you huff as he turns and close the door while he leaves

He can’t scare you anymore, you made sure to have things your way, to have most things under your name and his attempts of threat would go unnoticed. Jungkook hugs you when he notices the way your body trembles, he kisses your forehead as he sits on the bed with you on his lap.

You sigh, feeling relief and warmth within you from the man holding you dearly. He hums in your ear as you calm down, you know you want to be with him, for real and as long as he lets you.

“Jungkook?” he gaze you and nods

“Yes princess?” you sigh fidgeting your fingers

“Can we… date?” he huffs

“No, I'm supposed to ask you that!” he holds you by your waist, closer to his body “Date me [name]” you nod and giggle at his question

“You're not… unsure, given how everything went between us?” he shakes his head in deny

“No princess, I wanna be with you, doesn't matter how things were” your heart beats with joy “Sometimes you gotta cheat your way through”

masterlist

©️bangytell please do not copy or steal my work, any translation can’t be done this is the only way to read it.

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts maknae line #bts drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook imagine

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wynnyfryd · 5 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 38

part 1 | part 37 | ao3

"Sure thing."

"Can you go say hey to everyone, too? Please?" he adds. "I need a second."

He expects Eddie to tease him for being bossy, but Eddie just winks and says, "Do you one better than that, sugar," smiling playfully with his tongue out like a dog before he bounds outside and tackles one of the kids into a pile of snow.

Steve uses the distraction to clean himself up; towel the sweat from his face and hair and clean the blood off of his knuckles, and when he steps outside a moment later Eddie's shouting "no wedgies no wedgies!!" while Dustin tries to shove a snowball down the back of his pants.

"Steve!" Eddie calls out when he spots him. "Steve, help!"

"No, help me!" Dustin counters with a strained grunt as Eddie grapples him into a chokehold. Mike yells "Get him, Eddie!" and Lucas rolls his eyes and mutters, "This is what we get for not bringing any girls."

The trip is pure chaos right from the jump, which Steve anticipated the second he suggested packing five dudes into a van for a run to the hardware store (he had to sit through ten minutes of Mike, Dustin, and Lucas arguing over everything from girls to books to whether The Cure objectively sucks or not until Eddie finally hollered "shut the fuck up!" and drowned them all out with 'real music'), but it feels good to be in charge. To have a project to manage, even if he's the reason there's a project in the first place.

He bosses the boys around the aisles when they get to the store, gathering up supplies — tarps and tools and vinyl, a few sheets of plywood to repair the damaged subfloor, disinfectant spray and gloves; safety shit, too, just in case they need it — and it reminds him of that day in the junkyard. Hey, dickheads! How come the only one helping me out is this random girl?

"You talk to Max lately?" he asks Lucas when they get a minute alone.

Lucas dips his head and kicks at the wheel of their shopping cart, looking so much like a kid, even though he's almost taller than Steve now. "No," he says with a frustrated sigh. "I don't— it's like she's there, but she's not there. You know? I don't know how to reach her."

"Mm." Steve gets that. Felt it just this morning. He claps a hand to Lucas' shoulder. "Just give her time," he suggests, bending to grab a sanding block off a shelf and drop it in the cart.

In his periphery, he sees Eddie skipping at the far end of the aisle while Mike and Dustin chase after him. "Is she still with Eddie's friend?"

Lucas glares at the back of Eddie's head at Steve's reminder, voice sullen when he answers, "Shit, man. I don't know."

"Is he being cool to you?"

"Who, Gareth?"

"No, Eddie," Steve clarifies, remembering Erica's threat-request to look out for her brother.

"Oh." Lucas scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, he treats basketball like it's the Dark Side, but-"

He breaks off with a little laugh, and Steve laughs with him. "Yeah. He's kind of dramatic. I'll talk to him about it."

"You will?"

"Sure. Jock solidarity and all that." He gives Lucas a fist bump, and Lucas gives him a long, thoughtful look, chewing his lip.

"So you guys are, like... friends now?"

Steve's heart gives an unhelpful flutter at the question. They are like friends now, he guesses, if friends kiss each other with tongue.

He clears his throat at that thought and looks away to hide his blush; sees Eddie using a cut of PVC pipe as a sword, lunging at Mike in a fencer's pose and shouting 'en garde!' "...Unfortunately, yeah."

—

part 39

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #my writing #my fic

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writingstoraes · 11 months

Text

secret trip 🛫

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this seemed like a really cute idea so! lmk what u guys think 🤍 requests for charles imagines are open btw! pls send some cause my own ideas r betraying me rn lolol

about: the entire grid seems to be going to italy together, fans can't seem to put the pieces together!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, ferrarifan, wagsf1, and 234,110 others

yourusername with love, italy

isahernaez Have fun, babes ❤️

yourusername wish you were here 😣

wagslove SOOO GORGEOUS

charles_leclerc My beautiful angel

yourusername love you, handsome :D

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, maxverstappen, and 1,334,982 others

charles_leclerc Loving the view a little too much, loving my muse the most.

f1films Charles and Y/N vacationing in Italy is something I never knew I needed

mercgirl I think they're with some of the drivers, check their stories

pierregasly Have the best time 😝

arthurleclerc No picture of me?

charles_leclerc Leave the hotel for once?

carlossainz55 and pierregasly recently added to their instagram stories!

danielricciardo and landonorris recently added to their instagram stories!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, pascale_leclerc, and 345,892 others

yourusername good food, good times, and the best people ❤️

pierregasly Someone pass the salt

carlossainz55 Why did you feel the need to ask that here pierregasly Why do you wanna know? 🙄

charles_leclerc No one told me Max gets wine drunk...

yourusername i say whoever ordered the wine takes care of him danielricciardo That champagne saving me right now 🤣

ferrarihorse I didn't know all of you were all so close omg this is adorable

charlesfearless italy with my loml and friends... now i want that

yourusername and charles_leclerc recently added to their instagram stories!

Trans: Nothing I'd love more than spending a lifetime with you.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, isahernaez, and 501,221 others

yourusername the answer to the million dollar question — why everyone seems to have flown to italy, well it's because today, i married the love of my life who also happens to be my best friend and my answered prayer.

i have had the best time conquering the world with you, my love. from the big romantic moments to the small mundane things, you make life more pleasurable. here's to forever 🥂

tagged: charles_leclerc

charlosfan aaaa an intimate wedding! truly one of the best option, congratulations to my favorite couple <3

yourusername thank you love! it really was nice being surrounded by close friends and family ❤️

scuderiaferrari Best wishes, Y/N and Charles! We still remember your first paddock appearance as a couple; time truly has flown!

charlieferrari I KNEW ITTTT MY FRIEND OWES ME 50 DOLLARS LOL

yourusername hahaha thank you for the faith then 🙏

lewishamilton Congratulations once again, you two! What an honor to be there as you celebrate a new milestone in your life together 🎉

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, lewishamilton, and 1,982,221 others

charles_leclerc Exactly five years ago, I could not resist asking for your first name just so I could see you again. Today, you took mine.

J'ai hâte de passer ma vie à t'aimer. I cannot wait to spend my life loving you.

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly Haha you weren't best man carlossainz55

carlossainz55 You weren't either?

maxverstappen Time to bring out the wine 🍷

charles_leclerc No landonorris No danielricciardo With love, no

carlossainz55 Overflowing best wishes, mate! You owe me for actually sending Y/N the text of you wanting to ask her out 😁

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12

notes: believe it or not this prompt has been gathering dust on my notes lol lmk what u guys think! also lmk if anyone wants to be a part of my permanent taglist :)

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slasherbvnnie · 1 year

Text

Until We Found You | Part IV

Welcome back! This time we have the second ghostface smut. Part V will be out later tonight, but no smut! Just some pure angst and fluff. As always, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Oral female!receiving, Overall smut

Part I Part II Part III Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

Word Count: 2673

You had a good five seconds on campus before someone finally noticed. Before you even made eye contact with her for the first time that day, Tatum let out the biggest gasp she had ever made and grabbed your shoulder. “And who did you spend your night with,” she asked as you immediately blushed, covering up your hickey with your palm. “None of your business, tate,” you said as Stu laughed and put his arm around Tatum’s waist. “Maybe Randy finally got his shot, I mean with how scared you must be about the killer, maybe he offered some protection for you,” Stu joked as Billy laughed.

“Don’t get the dork all worked up, Stu, you might put one too many ideas in that perverted brain of his,” Billy said as Randy rolled his eyes. “I can confirm it was not me, sadly, one of us actually has a job instead of living off student loan refunds,” Randy said as the group put their attention back on you. “Well, whoever mauled you better show up at the mall after class today. I wanna see who gave you that, you know, to vet them or whatever,” Tatum said as Sidney nodded. “Yeah, and then we’ll get on their case for mauling you,” she added, making you laugh.

Your day was mostly spent around nervously tiptoeing around the girls questioning you on who you spent the night with. You had talked to other people on campus that didn’t include your little friend group but had never shown interest in them, so they questioned you on any and every one they knew to see who it was. “Okay, what about the guy who almost hit you with that football last week, Kyle? Kit? Kaleb.” Tatum recalled, “Kevin, and no,” you answered simply as Sidney took a stab at it. “Nah, it has to be Oliver,” she suggested, making you pause and show a gross look. “One of my biggest bullies in high school? No thanks,” you shrugged as Billy turned his gaze to you, Stu looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

“Bully?” Billy questioned as you nodded. Throughout most of school you had been bullied, not really by one group in particular but there were enough to only leave you with Casey as one of your only friends until senior year. It stopped when college came around, no one cared enough to bully someone they spent one hour a day with. “Yeah, he always bullied me, ever since second grade. At first everyone thought he liked me because they thought being mean to someone was how you showed a crush but after this one time he faked asking me out in high school just to stand me up, it came kinda clear he hated me,” you explained with a little bitter laugh, going silent when you noticed the awkwardness.

Billy’s face was stone cold, but you could tell in his eyes that he was angered. “It’s fine, I’m over it now, but yeah, definitely not someone I would let sleep with me,” you said as you looked away, not noticing the glance that Stu and Billy shared. “Is he still a dick to you?” Stu asked as you laughed, “I guess? I dunno, I find it more funny that he’s still got a grudge against me for some reason, but at least he doesn’t try to pull my hair anymore,” you said jokingly.

“How about we go in there?” Tatum suggested as you and Sidney both shared a laugh, “what? You have a mystery date and you might want a cute outfit for Billy sometime,” Tate said as you and Sidney looked to each other before looking at the boys. “How about you two run off for a bit instead of being giant pervs, we’ll meet up again at the food court,” you suggested as Billy and Stu were quick to agree. Their rapid head shakes made you all rile up with laughter, smiling and heading into the store together.

“Sooo, what’s your mystery dates favorite color?” Tate asked as you smiled, “I don’t know actually, that’s a good question,” you hummed as you looked at the different choices of lingerie that lined the store. “I think they like any color really,” you said as you spotted a red laced set, it was a bralette styled top that had strips running down the side to connect to the underwear. Sidney noticed where your eyes lingered and laughed, “they’re kinky, huh?” She joked as you laughed and nodded, “really,” you agreed. You picked through the outfit to find your size, wondering if ghostface would like it, you guessed they probably would enjoy the blood red color of it.Later that night you were in your bathroom, glad that your parents had left to have dinner at your grandparents, which they did very hesitantly given the incident a few days ago. When you reassured that with all your friends only a few blocks away and access to cars, as well as the marvelous creation of phones to dial 911, they let you be.

You found yourself looking in the mirror as you checked yourself out for the 100th time in the lingerie you had bought. You blushed and wondered if your masked killer would enjoy the outfit, running your hand slowly across the lace fabric. You heard a noise from outside, quickly throwing on a tshirt- one you didnt care about if ruined again- and pj shorts before heading out into your bedroom.

You peeked over your window to see nothing, frowning to yourself before sighing and taking a seat on your bed. But when you were met with the back of the costumed body looking over your vanity you let out a small scream, making them turn to you. “Jesus christ you scared me!” You yelled at them before relaxing, “no window climbing this time?” You asked as they shook their head, continuing to look around the room. You noticed their little glances around the room, curious as to why they were studying it. They turned towards you once more, walking over to you and looking you over. They were less aggressive than last time, using two fingers to tilt your head up to them. Their fingers were warm, which caught you off guard, just yesterday they were cold to the touch.

“There’s two of you?” You questioned, their demeanor changing quickly as they grabbed your chin. “I-I don’t know who you are, i swear. It’s just- y-your touch…” you spoke quickly, trailing off as their grip loosened. “The last one was cold, kinda felt like a corpse,” you said jokingly, “and you’re warm…plus you keep looking around like you haven’t been here before.” You said to them, their touch going back to just gently holding your chin up. They moved away from you, going back to your vanity and grabbing a small black bag, bringing it over to you. You blinked in surprise, looking up to them before they gestured to open it. You reached into the bag, pulling out a piece of paper that was torn, giggling at the words that were printed onto it. ‘Sorry about the last guy :(‘

“See? I would have figured it was two of you anyways,” you said as they shook their head. You smiled, reaching back into the bag and looking at your two new Carrie shirts. One was in the style as your previous one, the other a different one but still in the correct size. “I didn’t think I would actually be treated to a new shirt,” you admitted, hearing a chuckle from them. You didn’t say it out loud, but your heart was filled with joy knowing these two masked killers, regardless of not knowing them, were being so kind and caring towards you. You swooned, noticing how different the two seemed. The other one scared you a little, not really knowing their true intentions, but this one seemed so much more gentle and sweet with you. “I um, I also had a little surprise for you,” you said, noticing how they perked up at your words.

A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked up to them, adjusting yourself before sitting up on your knees. “but you’ll have to take my clothes off first to see it, mr. ghostface.” you whispered out, which made them grab you by the waist and lay you down on the bed. They didn’t take out the knife, instead their hands darted to the hem of your shirt and lifted it up to reveal the red lingerie underneath. A small groan left them as they quickly worked on taking off your shorts, making you giggle at the rush in their actions. You let out a little whimper as they groped you, aware now of how unintentionally strong their grip was. They squeezed your breast that was covered in the lace, their other hand roaming up and down your side. The lack of their touch made you whine out, pouting up at them before they moved to grab the final thing from the bag. A new blindfold, one dedicated just for you. They were quick to tie it, making sure you didn’t see through it by waving in front of you.

All you heard was a little thump of the mask and them struggling to take their gloves off before you heard the rest of their clothing thump to the ground. Before you could even take in a breath you felt their hand already cupping your core, their lips attacking the part of your breasts that were left uncovered from the lingerie. They roamed around before their lips were now on your neck, creating a new hickey right above the old one. You moaned softly, a shaky hand reaching to grab their arm.You could feel their muscles contract and tighten at the touch but when you made no movement to touch elsewhere, they quickly calmed down and continued their lust filled attack on you. They teased you over the lace panties you wore, their smirk growing as you let out little huffs and moans. The bed lifted, their frame no longer causing it to dip and your hand was left holding nothing, a small pout made its way to your agitated frown as their touch left you. After a moment you gasped, feeling their hands spreading your legs apart as they placed gentle kisses onto your inner thighs.

It was the first time you felt the blade, but they didn’t trail it across your skin like the other, instead they used it to make you exposed to them. Another whine left you, “you owe me a new outfit again, this was brand new,” you whined, they responded with a nip to your inner thigh, not doing anything else before diving into you.Your back arched on impact, their tongue on your clit as they spread you open with their thumbs. “fuck,” you moaned out, your thighs closing around their head to lock them in place in pure instinct. They were skilled at this, eventually finding the perfect pace that had you shaking and squirming. Every time you tried to shimmy up and get away from the pleasure, their large hands wrapped around your thighs from behind and pulled you back down onto their face. You weren’t even aware of how many minutes had passed before your thighs were shaking, only being held up by their grip. “Wait, fuck, you’re-“ the breath was knocked out of your lungs as they entered their middle finger into you, their pace matching that of their tongue as they thrusted it in and out of you.

A loud moan left your lips as you came, whines and whimpers erupting from your chest as their ministrations didn’t stop. “Please, please, ‘s too much,” you pleaded, clawing at your bedsheets as they just hooked their arm around your thigh and pulled you down back onto their face once more. It was practically like a scene from the Exorcist as you came again, your back arching off of the bed as you nearly let out a scream from all the pleasure. This time they slowly pulled away after you came down from your high, lapping at you one last time before pulling away and hovering over you. Your chest heaved as you did your best to catch your breath, smiling softly at the gentle kiss they placed onto you. You felt them snake their hand into yours, making you giggle as they wrapped their fingers in the spaces between your own. A smile curled onto their lips when they heard your laugh, growing even wider when you let out a moan as their free hand went back to your entrance. They still held your hand as they pulled back a little, your legs spreading more as you felt them running their tip along your slit.

At every swipe to your clit you let out a moan, gasping when they entered you. Within a second their lips were attacking your neck again, earning whines and moans from every bite, lick, and thrust that they tortured your body with. The pleasure was dizzying, you had never really gone so many rounds with someone before, the recovery time was practically nothing with how fast your climax was building up again. They were more gentle, their free hand roaming over the bralette you still had on, teasing your nipples over the fabric as they littered your skin in love bites. You were already regretting Tatum’s and Sidney’s teases about them tomorrow but for now, you accepted your fate.

Their pace was quick but managed to hit all your sweet spots, their hand that held yours was gripping you so tightly their knuckles turned white, which only brought you closer to the edge. Their free hand found its way to your clit again, rubbing it in time with their thrusts to completely overwhelm you. Your orgasm washed over you hard, the seconds felt like they lasted a lifetime as you did your best to come down from your high, but their continued sloppy thrusts didn’t help one bit. A loud whine left you as they came, biting into your neck to cover up their moan. They pulled out slowly, letting go of your hand and kissing you once again. Unlike the other ghostface, they laid down in the bed with you, pulling you against their chest. You accepted the invitation, resting against their chest and listening to their heartbeat as you recovered from your orgasm.

“Next time…do- uh,” you spoke softly, a bit shy to get your thoughts out into words. You felt their fingertips tracing your jaw, relaxing as their thumb ran over your lips. “Do you think the both of you could come by next time? You- uh, you don’t have to but…” you trailed off as they kissed you, feeling their head move in a nod. You smiled, heart fluttering with excitement knowing both of them would be alone with you. “And don’t forget the new lingerie set, please,” you requested with a little laugh. It was an hour later, ghostface gone and you freshly showered and dressed in your pajamas again.

Your phone rang, seeing Sidney’s caller id and answering quickly. “Hey, have you seen any of the police cars pass by?” She asked as you looked out your window, “no, how come?” You asked as Sidney sighed. “Oliver, the neighbors said they heard screaming and shit breaking and when police got there they said he was dead,” she said as you frowned. “Do they know if it was the killer?” You asked, “yeah, neighbors said they saw him running off. They tried going after them but they couldn’t catch up.” She told you, you sighing and shaking your head. “That’s so creepy…” you said, thinking back to the conversation you all were having earlier that day. You couldn’t help but wonder if ghostface was stalking you, if they already knew you and your past.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #scream au #poly!ghostface x female reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream #scream1996 #billy x stu x reader #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #poly!ghostface smut #smut #fluff #angst

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 months

Text

fucked royalty

Summary: You are working as a nurse on a military base when you meet and fall for Frankie Morales. And he for you. But before he could finally tell you the truth about him he just... disappears and you are left heartbroken without any way to get back in contact with him. After moping for a week you put in a request to relocate and get send to Spain where your new roommate wins a weekend trip to the Kingdom of San Senova, not knowing that all your unanswered questions regarding to Frankie, would soon get their answers.

Wordcount: Alejandro Carlos Francisco Sanchez Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 5.7k

Rating: M

Warnings: Royalty AU, fluff, falling in love, light smut (oral f receiving, unprotected sex), angst, heartbreak, me not knowing shit about royal titles, phones are not a thing (just go with it) happy ending 😍

A/N: omg I had so much fun writing this. Hello @flightlessangelwings! I am your secret valentine and I hope you love this little story!

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

The first time you saw Frankie Morales, he was getting stitches by the Doctor on military base you had been working on for almost a year as a nurse.

You were carrying some more supplies and the medicine the Doctor had asked for, setting it down next to him when you met Frankie’s eyes for the first time. He gave you a small smile and even though his whole face was bloody (you could already see the stitches on the side of his forehead) he was still the most attractive man you had ever seen.

You didn’t know that this would be the start of a whirlwind romance that would leave you heartbroken.

You saw him again the next night at the bar just around the base.

He was with there with his three friends, sporting a serious bruise on his eye from whatever had happened to him the day before. At some point one of his friends must have caught you starring, and it wasn’t long before Frankie asked if he could invite you for a drink.

A drink turned into two, and you spend the whole night talking to each other about everything and nothing. Maybe you fell for him right then, watching him smile shyly at you, his hand holding yours.

He insisted on making sure you got home safely after.

„You know it’s just a five minute walk?“ You smiled at him. He shrugged, taking your hand.

„A lot can happen in five minutes,“ he said seriously.

He kissed you good night in front of your door, promising that he would see you soon.

And he did.

He was living on base and apparently on call being part of the special forces, so going on dates was a little complicated at the beginning. But what he lacked of opportunities, he made up with ideas.

„This is…. This is beautiful Frankie,“ you smiled at him.

He had found a field full of sunflowers, his hand holding yours as he let you through them, snapping picture after picture from you.

„I flew over it the other day and I thought this is perfect to spend some alone time with you,“ he grinned, pulling you against his chest.

„So this was all a scheme to get me all alone to yourself?“

„Mhhh,“ he hummed, a smile on his lips as he dipped his head down, kissing you softly. You crossed your arms behind his neck, getting on your tiptoes to get even closer. His hands were on your hips, his fingers carefully digging into your skin.

He had you pinned against the wall the moment you got to your place, his lips and hands all over you.

„Want you,“ he mumbled, kissing down your body, pushing your summer dress up.

„Take me then,“ you gasped, when you felt his nose run up your thigh.

„I have heard the wildest rumour,“ you flopped down on the couch next to him. He was at your place for the whole weekend, insisting to wine and dine you for a change, even if it was at your home. He was waiting for you when you came home and you love the feeling of knowing someone was waiting for you.

You had been dating for almost six months now.

And you hoped many more months would follow.

He was basically living at your place when he wasn’t on mission.

„What rumour?“ He asked, his hand coming down to rest on your thigh.

„Carla said that she heard that there’s some European Prince undercover on the base doing his military service,“ you snorted. You stretched your muscles, sighing loudly, missing Frankie’s eyes widening.

„Sounds to me like a Hallmark movie if you ask me,“ you rolled your eyes, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

„How would Carla know?“ Frankie asked.

„Dunno. She send me the link to his Wikipedia page though. Wait a second,“ you pulled your phone out, opening the link.

„There we are. Alejandro Carlos Francisco Sanchez Morales the third. Future king of San Senova. I don’t even know where that is,“ you read out loud.

„Between France and Spain,“ Frankie provided and you looked at him, impressed.

„How do you know that?“ You asked. He shrugged, though you could see him blushing. Adorable.

„Dad is big on geography,“ he said and you nodded, laying your head back against his shoulder.

„Maybe you’re related to them too. Your last name is Morales,“ you chuckled.

„Many people with the name Morales. It’s pretty common,“ he said right away.

„I guess you’re right,“ you sighed.

„Any pictures of him?“ He asked, kissing your hair.

„Sadly no pictures after he turned five years old. Cute little boy though, don’t you think?“ You held the phone out.

„Cute,“ he said before he pulled your phone away, throwing it on the couch next to him.

„Heeeeey,“ you pouted, shrieking when he pulled you beneath him and kissed you.

„Want you,“ he hummed, his hips dragging against yours, making you gasp.

„Take your clothes off baby,“ you grinned, already pulling your shirt over your head.

Within minutes both of you were naked and Frankie was inside of you, making you cry out his name while his lips were all over your body.

He made you cum four times on that couch.

Making you forget about a potential European future king working among you at the base.

Santiago Garcia was Frankie’s best friend.

And, to say it in the most nicest way, a slut.

He had broken the hearts of all the nurses at the base, which left you to be the only one still willing to attend to him, if he had some medical issues.

„So how are things between you and Frankie?“ He asked while he sat on the table. You were cleaning his bloody knuckles, not even asking how it happened anymore. He had a wild streak, leaving you to patch him up regularly.

„Is this the part where you ask me about my intentions?“ You teased and he chuckled.

„Nope. Everyone who has eyes can see how much you love him,“ he said and you stilled, taking a deep breath before you carried on tending to him.

„Same with him too though. He speaks about you all the time. Kinda annoying if you ask me,“ you looked up at him and he winked. You continued cleaning his wounds.

„I haven’t told him that I love him. I… We haven’t talked about what happens when he has to go back home. I don’t even know where is home for him, he always changes the topic. And I’m scared he’s just gonna end up leaving me here,“ you confessed. Your turned away from Santiago, grabbing the bandages.

„Talk to him. Frank is… A little hesitant when it comes to feelings. He told you about his ex?“ Santi asked. You nodded.

Frankie had told you about his last girlfriend. It was pretty serious. They had been together for three years and he could see him getting married to her. He found out that she had been cheating on him with one of his cousins. And then she tried telling him that she was pregnant which turned out to be a complete lie to somehow baby trap him.

Your heart broke for him as he told you about it.

„I think the whole thing broke him more than he wants to admit. Means also he can’t see what’s right in front of him,“ Santiago explained as you finished bandaging his hand, looking up at Santi.

„So you mean I have to confess my feelings in a big gesture?“ You asked.

„I mean you can. I bet he would loooove a flashmob,“ he grinned and you slapped his arm playfully.

„Just tell him how you feel. We’re not gonna stick around for much longer,“ he said and you nodded, watching after him as he left the room.

Frankie had told you that he had received word that he was close to being finished with his service. He didn’t tell you an exact time frame, but you knew the end of whatever this was could be closer than you liked.

You would have to talk with him.

About your feelings and about a potential future.

Because you had already decided that if he would ask you, you would follow him everywhere.

You had no family and only a few friends here.

And nurses were needed everywhere. You would find work quickly.

You and Frankie had made plans for the next evening. You wanted to cook and confess your feelings to him.

But when he didn’t show up at your place you grew worried.

Frankie was always punctual, always calling you if he would be running late. Private cellphones were forbidden at the base, so the only way of contacting him, would be calling the base. So when fifteen minutes went by after he had promised to be here you called the landline of the house he was living at, but nobody picked up.

Next you tried the base but the line was busy.

An hour later and no message you grabbed your car keys and drove the way from your place to his place at the base. You hadn’t been here often. He shared the small house with his three friends and privacy was not really something they valued, leaving to interesting encounters and teasing in the morning when you stayed the night.

The house lay in darkness when you got there.

After knocking and ringing the bell you received no answer.

You had a bad feeling in your stomach. You stood there in the darkness looking at the house.

There was no one here.

Maybe they had an important mission and he did not have time to tell you. You shook your head. In the months you had dated he had always informed you when he had to leave on short notice.

Something was not right.

It’s why you made your way back to the base to ask around.

„You here about Frank?“ His superior, General Lopez asked, after you knocked on his door. You nodded.

„He was sent home together with the whole fifth devision,“ he said.

„Oh,“ you said surprised, your heard beating fast in your chest.

„Anything else you want?“ He barked and you shook your head numbly, before you walked out.

You held the tears in until you were back in the apartment and saw Frankie’s hoodie still hanging over your chair.

He had to leave without you being able to tell him how you felt.

You just hoped that he would call you once he made it out of the plane.

He didn’t call.

He did not send a letter.

He didn’t try to get in touch with you.

So after moping around for a week you applied for a transfer packed your things and took the new job.

In Spain.

Vowing to yourself to get over Frankie.

Two months later

„I can’t believe you dragged me into this,“ you whined before you turned the air conditioning of the car to its highest level.

„For someone who got invited to spend a two night stay in a five star hotel in San Senova without having to pay a single cent for it, you sure sound ungrateful,“ your friend Lisa hummed as she drove the car down the highway.

You had to admit that she was right.

The last two months had been long and dark and depressing, but meeting Lisa on your first day, finding out she was your roommate for the six months you would spend here in Spain, was the greatest distraction.

She was loud and playful and funny and she made it her mission to get you out of your „depression hole“.

It’s why after winning this weekend stay in a raffle on the 4th of July celebration on base, she didn’t even ask you if you would like to come. She just informed you that you were going.

„You know that there was a rumour back in my old base that the crown prince of San Senova was doing his military service back there?“ You asked.

„King,“ she said.

„Huh?“

„He’s the king now. Has been for almost two months. Apparently his father died suddenly and he had to take the throne overnight,“ she explained.

„Look at you being informed,“ you teased.

„Don’t want to be the dumb American stereotype tourist. Also, thanks to my research, I know that tomorrow will be a national holiday in San Senova because it’s the kings thirty fifth birthday. Apparently there’s a military parade. It’s a whole thing,“ Lisa said.

„What I am hearing is, that you gonna drag me to this thing, isn’t it?“ You sighed.

She turned her head, grinning at you.

„You know me so well already,“ Lisa winked.

With a chuckle you shook your head.

Spending time with Lisa this weekend would be great.

You wouldn’t be thinking about the plans you and Frankie had made for this birthday that was tomorrow back in the states.

After parking the rental car and checking into the hotel (which made your jaw drop) you passed out for a nap almost right away.

It hadn’t been a long drive, but you had started studying to become an OR nurse and you had only fallen asleep in the early morning hours after having been allowed to watch an operation last night.

Lisa made sure to roughly wake you up an hour before she had made reservations in a local restaurant she had found on trip advisor.

And while you wanted nothing more than to sleep, you let her excitement over this trip influence you. After a small dance party in the huge bathroom of the hotel room where Lisa told you that if you were a guy, she would have fucked you in the big walk in shower first thing while proceeding to sing into her brush-microphone, the two of you stepped out of the hotel.

Lisa had talked you into wearing a dress, so you were wearing your most casual, yet fancy dress. A dark red wrap dress that ended just above your knees.

You drew the line at wearing heels, leaving you with some flat sandals as you walked down the street, your arm hooked under Lisa’s as she led you towards the restaurant, google maps on her phone showing you both the way.

Walking through old European cities like these, alway left you impressed and yearning to live here. You had managed to visit Barcelona and Seville since getting to Spain and frankly you couldn’t imagine ever going back to the United States.

You made smalltalk on the way, both of your eyes taking in the old city.

And men.

Well at least Lisa did.

She knew about Frankie and she knew you weren’t ready for someone new. Which did not stop her to point out candidates which you had to admit were super attractive.

But they weren’t Frankie.

How things ended with him still left you with a billion questions. The loudest of them all being if you could be so wrong about his feelings for you.

Even Santiago had told you Frankie loved you.

And while you or him never heard or said the words, you deep down knew he loved you.

He could maybe lie to you, but what reason would his best friend have to lie?

Why did he ghost you like this?

Taking a deep breath you stopped walking as Lisa announced that you made it. Looking around you saw that the restaurant was pretty busy.

„Seems like trip advisor was right to make a reservation, huh?“ You asked and she nodded.

„Looks expensive,“ you noticed and she turned her head, grinning at you.

„You’re paying! I invited you for this trip“ Lisa announced and your jaw dropped, watching her walk towards the entrance.

„This trip was free!“ You gasped.

She only laughed and you shook your head, following her inside.

„You might have to carry me back to the hotel,“ you groaned almost two hours later. The dinner was probably the best you had in your life.

Lisa and you had shared a bottle of wine between the two of you and you were now waiting for dessert.

„Would it be weird to call a cab?“ She asked.

„It’s a five minute walk,“ you laughed.

She pouted.

„I don’t think I can do it,“ she said with a dramatic sigh before she smiled.

„Gonna go to the restroom. Don’t steal from my dessert when it comes,“ she said seriously, before she grabbed her purse and walked through the restaurant towards the restrooms.

It was almost fifteen minutes later, your dessert almost gone when you heard her laugh.

Your dessert was almost gone and you were sipping on your wine glass when you turned your head towards the sound, finding her sitting with her back towards you at the bar. She was talking to a man, her hand on his shoulder, and you smiled to yourself until your eyes landed on the face of the man she was talking to.

As if sensing your eyes on him, his head tilted, his eyes frowning before they widened.

„Santi?“ You whispered in disbelief.

Lisa’s head turned when Santi stopped talking, her eyes narrowing between you and Santiago.

She left him standing walking towards you.

„Why are you looking at Santiago like you’ve seen a ghost? I just met him?“ She asked, her hand on your shoulder as she stood beside you.

Looking up at her you gulped.

„That’s Frankie’s best friend,“ you whispered, suddenly very tired.

Lisa’s eyes widened before she turned around to look at him, just as he stepped beside her.

„He’s what?“ She asked.

You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

Santiago said your name and you could feel yourself shaking.

It was like you were underwater. You could hear Lisa and him talking, but you didn’t understand what they were talking about.

If he was here, was Frankie somewhere here too?

What was he doing here out of all places in the world?

Why did they leave?

Why did he leave?

Why did no one tell you?

You finally looked up at him, tears lingering in the corner of your eyes.

„Why?“ You asked quietly. He looked at you with sadness in his eyes. He was sucking on his bottom lip, nervous. He let his eyes wander through the room, noticing some people already staring.

You didn’t know that people were staring because they knew who he was.

Not yet.

„Not here,“ he said and you frowned, about to open your mouth to ask what he meant, when he took a step closer.

„It’s not my place to explain. I’ll try. But not here,“ he said.

Both you and Lisa followed Santiago to a private dining room of the restaurant that was empty.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to talk or if you wanted to run.

As soon as the door closed his eyes were on you, then on Lisa.

„Talk,“ she snapped, her arms crossed in front of her chest and you almost laughed as you saw him jump, surprised by her outburst.

He looked at you as if in question and you rolled your eyes.

„She knows. About me and Frankie and how all of you just…. Ghosted me from one day to another,“ you said.

„Like I said, it’s not my place to explain,“ he started and Lisa scoffed.

„I would love to just tell you everything but I made a vow I can’t break,“ he said and you confusingly stared at him.

„A vow?“ You whispered, he nodded.

You looked at Lisa who looked like she was ready to scratch Santiago’s eyes out if you gave her the go.

„Let me take you to him,“ Santiago said.

„Let me take you to Frankie.“

The ride in the car was silent.

You were anxious, your hands sweating. Lisa was holding your hand while glaring at Santiago.

„Can you tell your friend to stop looking at me like she wants to choke me?“ Santiago said after a while and your lips almost broke out into a small smile.

„Last thing I remembered I heard Nurse Sam say you’re into that,“ you said and his eyes widened before he laughed.

„I might be, but in the sexy way, not in the I’m gonna die way,“ he winked and you released a shaky breath.

You tuned out the conversation that now started between Lisa and Santi, your head resting against the cold glass of the car window, your eyes trying to figure out were he was taking you.

You hadn’t been driving for a long time, before the car stopped at a gate. You could only make out what looked like a long fence before the car started driving again, driving towards a huge building.

It didn’t take long then before the car stopped in front of an already opened door, a deep red rug on the steps leading up and inside. The door on Santiago’s side opened and he stepped out, turning to hold out his hand, helping you out.

Taking a deep breath you stepped out of the car, taking a look around as he helped Lisa out of his car.

A man in a suit walked out, bowing his head.

„Duke Garcia,“ the man said and your head turned to Lisa who was already looking at you with wide eyes.

„Where is he?“ Santiago asked. You saw the man look at you and Lisa before he focused back on Santiago. They talked to each other in hushed voices before Santiago turned around with a sigh.

The man walked back inside, leaving you alone with Lisa and Santiago, the car driving off.

„Frankie is in a… meeting. But I think we can interrupt it. That is, if you want?“ He asked.

You nodded.

You wanted answers.

„What about you?“ You asked, looking at Lisa. She suddenly had a shy smile on her lips as she looked at Santi.

„I’m gonna take care of her,“ Santi said with a wink and you playfully rolled your eyes.

It took almost ten minutes of Santiago leading both you and Lisa through the building before he came to a stop in front of two closed doors.

He looked at you, silently asking for permission, before he loudly knocked on the door.

He didn’t wait for anyone to invite him in, before he pushed the door open.

The first thing you noticed was that the room behind the door was huge. And looking more… opulent than some of the hallways you had walked through. Golden ornaments and deep red on the walls made it look like out of a fairytale.

You were in a castle. Why were you in a castle?

You let your eyes wander through the room until your eyes stopping on the very end. There was a woman sitting on a chair in front of a canvas, painting someone. Taking a step further into the room you noticed someone sitting in front of her. On a golden chair. A throne? He was wearing what looked like a uniform with various medals and buttons, looking very official.

The man stood up and you titled your head up, finding Frankie’s wide eyes looking at you.

The woman in front of him, got up from her chair too, bowing her head with a whispered your majesty as he took the three steps from the podium down and walked towards you.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he walked towards you.

„Clear the room,“ he said and you released a shuddering breath. You felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump.

Breaking eye contact you looked at Lisa who looked as confused as you felt.

„You okay?“ She mouthed.

You shrugged. She eyed the man who was now standing almost in front of you with a frown before she looked at you again.

„I will be right outside,“ she said loud and clear before she let Santiago lead her out of the room, closing the door behind them.

You closed your eyes, gathering your thoughts before your eyes opened and found Frankie looking at you.

Allowing yourself a moment to really take him in, you noticed how tired he looked. There were bags under his eyes you could see, even though someone did a shitty job of covering them up. It seemed like he aged at least ten years since you’ve last seen him. His hair was shorter, his beard was trimmed.

His head tilted to the side and it was only then that you noticed the tears in his eyes.

„You left,“ you whispered and he closed his eyes, releasing along breath.

„I’m sorry,“ he said and you had too look away from him when he opened his eyes again. Turning away you slowly walked towards the windows, looking out of it.

If you would continue to look at him, you would cry. And right now you weren’t sure if it was out of anger or because you had missed him so much.

You crossed your arms, your hands tucking underneath your arms to soothe yourself as you looked out into the dark night.

„Tell me why you left,“ you said quietly.

Footsteps came closer towards you and it was like before, like you could feel his warmth.

„My father died,“ he began.

„I received the news of his death while I went through the store to get some of your favourite snacks. I wanted to go over to you anyway and finally tell you the truth. Tell you that I lo…. I had the plan to tell you everything that night even before all of it happened. But… Once my father…. The King of San Senova died, I was swept up by the royal protocol. Thirty minutes after I received the message I was already on a plane and being briefed on what was going to be happening as soon as I arrived here back home.“

„You didn’t even have a minute to call?“

„I… I tried. But your number had been disconnected by the time I finally had a minute to breathe. And I had left you messages with my superior but he told me that you weren’t interested….“

You turned around, your head tilting up to look at him.

„I never received any message from you,“ you shook your head. His eyes widened.

„I left you a letter. And… at least a dozen messages….“

„I went to the base an hour after you hadn’t shown up and talked to your Superior. He only told me that you left earlier. There was no message.“

His jaw tensed as he took a deep breath, his eyes darkening for a moment.

„I left you a letter that explained everything. I gave it to him weeks before I even left because I wanted you to have a way to contact me. It had Santi’s and Will’s number. Because I am not allowed to carry a cellphone.“

Sucking your bottom lip in you looked at him.

„Why would he not give me your messages if you left them for me?“ You questioned.

His face fell and he groaned.

„His fucking daughter. Fuck, I can’t believe this…“ He turned around, his hand running through his hair in frustration.

„Santi!“ He yelled and you almost jumped at the tone of his voice.

The door opened and Santiago walked in, looking a little… wild. His hair a wild mess and… was that lipstick on his lips?

„Your majesty?“ He asked and your could see Frankie roll his eyes. You caught Lisa in the hallways behind Santi with big eyes. You chuckled to yourself.

„I want General Lopez and his daughter here first thing in the morning,“ he hissed and Santi’s eyebrow raised.

„Fucker never gave my messages to her,“ Frankie explained and Santi sighed as he looked at you.

„I will get right to it,“ he promised. He turned around and closed the door behind him.

„I should have known…. I should have tried harder,“ Frankie shook his head, his fingers rubbing over his temple.

Slowly you approached him.

Sure, he could have tried to get in touch with you somehow. But… you couldn’t even imagine how much his life must have changed in a matter of hours. Not that you weren’t hurt how things went, but… you could at least understand him.

Carefully you brought your hand up to rest on his shoulder.

He looked at you.

„I missed you so much,“ he whispered.

„Yeah?“ You asked. He nodded.

„Even though there are now always people around me, I feel so alone. I always felt so alone. But not with you. Never with you,“ he turned around so he was standing in front of you.

„I missed you too. Every single day,“ you said, tears lingering in your eyes.

His forehead came to rest against yours as he pulled you into a hug. The big clock in the room began to ring, the clock striking midnight.

„Happy birthday Frankie,“ you whispered.

Ever so slowly you pressed your lips against his.

„Tell me everything?“ You asked.

He smiled.

Things went very fast after that night.

It turned around General Lopez had indeed not given a single message Frankie left to you because he was hoping that Frankie fell for his his daughter, who was in line to be Frankie’s wife and future queen.

He just hadn’t counted on how deeply Frankie had fallen in love with you.

You had spend the whole night talking. After he had gotten out of his uniform he had taken you to his private quarters that fell much more like Frankie.

He told you about growing up in this palace, knowing that he was next in line for the throne. How every single relationship he had in the past only was about getting what they wanted, which was power or money, but never him. Frankie. They wanted Alejandro Carlos Francisco Sanchez Morales The Third, or now King Alejandro the third.

That was the reason, he was so hesitant to tell you. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was scared it would change something between you.

It took a while to realise that the man you heard singing „Everytime we touch“ under the shower in the morning while he ran late for work, was now a king of a whole country.

Your weekend trip became a lot more serious once Frankie told you he loved you and asked you to stay on the day after you arrived first at the palace.

He did not want to waste any more time pretending he wasn’t in love with you and… you didn’t want that either.

So you stayed.

In separate rooms in the palace at first.

Not that you slept in separate beds even one day after you arrived.

But the King having his girlfriend move into his quarters right away apparently wasn’t a good look. You learned much about the royal protocol in the weeks after you arrived.

Part of you wanted to let him grovel for you for a while, but you knew from the start that you wanted him back in your life.

You didn’t want to waste any more time apart from him.

Almost four months later Frankie asked you to marry him and you said yes.

There would be a huge royal wedding in the next spring, the planning already under way. There was talk to combine his official coronation with the wedding, but two months was apparently too little time to plan it. Your dress alone would take half a year to make. The times of ordering your clothes online were officially over.

You had a stylist now.

And responsibilities.

Because you would become the Queen of San Senova in the coming year.

Which is how you found yourself here, wearing a deep green floor length gown, your back leaning against a wall, next to a room full of people who were waiting to officially see the new King.

The new King who was on his knees in front of you, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder, your dress carefully held up as he licked into you.

Your hands were pressed against the wall behind you, trying to stop yourself from running them through his hair.

„Frankie,“ you whimpered quietly, your head falling back against the wall.

He had pulled you into this room not five minutes ago, both of you not really having seen each other more than in passing in the last four days.

Which was apparently too much time.

You could hear the people cheering outside of the palace as they waited.

„Don’t let the people wait, my love. Cum for your King,“ he grinned before he sucked your clit into his mouth and you came with a quiet gasp, your legs shaking.

„You’re a fucking menace,“ you sighed and you felt him chuckle against you, before he carefully slipped your panties back and kissed you thigh.

A knock on the door, someone reminding you that it was time, let you both jump before you laughed to yourselves.

He put your leg back to the floor as he got up, standing in front of you.

„How do I look?“ He asked and you smiled, bringing your hands up to brush over his shoulders.

„Majestic,“ you smiled and he kissed you softly. He took his hand, wanting to exit the room with you when you stopped him.

He frowned.

„You have….. me all over you….“ You mumbled and he licked his lips.

„Just how I like it,“ he winked before he opened the door, pulling you through it.

And minutes later Frankie stood on the balcony, wearing his crown, waving to his people as their new crowned King, while he held your hand.

Looking at you he gave you a small wink before he kissed you softly in front of thousands of people who cheered both his and your name.

Not knowing what their King was up to not only ten minutes ago.

#SpaceSistersSecretValentine #my fic #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

355 notes · View notes

palajae · 11 months

Text

love me (k)not. | 1k special

PAIRING ▸ niki x reader, slight jungwon x reader

GENRE ▸ soulmate! au, string of fate! au, photographer! au, childhood-friends-to-lovers, romance, fluff, angst, humor, SLOW BURN

WORD COUNT▸ 15.6k

SUMMARY ▸ yes, niki can see the red string of fate that connects two people together. and no, he can’t just tell people who their soulmate is. you’re his only friend but there’s one problem and he can see it quite clearly (and literally)- your string isn’t connected to his.

AKA a reality check that niki loves you, no matter what the universe says.

AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of bullying, slight violence, child experimentation, food, drinking/alcohol (but only with an aged up riki and reader!!), kissing, jungwon being a jerk for a little :(

hi guys did anyone miss me :) it’s been a long ride but due to popular request for longer oneshots here is a very long one that i basically died over! i really hope you guys enjoy it as i worked super hard, and thank you guys again for 1k (more like 1.2k now but) ily 🩷

i. one string, two strings, red strings, new strings.

he doesn’t know when it really started. it simply happened one cloudy afternoon. and it’s not like the subject was completely foreign to riki, oh no, he had definitely heard tales from older people about the topic.

unfortunately for him, it just had to be when he was a mere seven year old. ‘it’ meaning the delicate and thin red strings— almost identical to the yarn his grandma would use for knitting—appearing all around him, encasing him in a world like a spy in a laser trap trying to escape with their precious treasure.

tiny riki frowned, glancing around while still having a tight grip on his mother’s hand in order not to get lost in the vast mall they were currently shopping at. his attention was suddenly caught, eyes focusing on the larger hand he was still holding onto. more specifically, the pinky finger of his mother’s right hand.

a perfect little knot wrapped around her smallest finger.

his eyes followed the string, but it traveled quite far through the crowd of people and he eventually gave up, the string pulling farther than he thought. later would he really figure out the meaning of this, but at the time, he simply tugged on his mother’s shirt, attracting her attention. she glanced down, answering her child with a hum.

cautiously, riki took a quick peek around at the passerby’s, confirming what he saw on what seemed to be about everyone else’s hands as well, almost getting lost in the maze of the red before his eyes flicked up to her.

“what are the red strings for?”

his mother raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to hear better. “what? repeat what you said, riki.”

he stood up straighter, clearing his throat. “i said, what are the red strings on everyone’s hand for?”

riki’s mother paused, a train of thoughts running through her head. once an answer finally appeared, she attempted to calm her suddenly racing heart before squatting down and leaning even closer to her son. she looked him carefully in the eye, and riki can still remember the movement of her lips speaking clearly and slowly, the words that left her lips that day and changed his life forever.

“just like the ones grandpa told you about?”

he remembers exactly what he responded back with.

“yes.”

they went to the doctors eventually for assistance. riki now knows it would’ve been inevitable, and perhaps earlier was better than later.

the doctor returned back with what seemed like an impossible diagnosis: riki can see people’s red strings of fate.

their soulmate connections.

then came the questions, tests, experiments. it lasted for a long time in little riki’s head, and it was indeed a long time for a child. several years- five to be exact. five years spent in a lab, all in solitude, to be kept under control and monitored over time.

riki remembers the overwhelming amount of people. people like the scientists with the tidy white coats and glasses who came in and took his blood or ran tests on his eyes and brain. he also remembers the average people who would occasionally come in, usually a man and woman looking quite anxious and timid, and who would sit down in front of him, both hands clearly in sight of riki.

every time, as if it was natural instinct, his eyes would flick down to their right hand, spotting the tied knot on their pinky. then a scientist would ask questions-

do you see a red string? yes.

can you see who it is connected to? yes.

is it to each other?

yes—most of the time. occasionally, he would answer no with a shake of his head. there was always the variety of responses from the people. a gasp, crestfallen look, maybe even tears. whispers and murmurs would come from the white coated people as they wrote stuff down.

riki was confused. did being soulmates really matter when most people (meaning everyone except riki) never had to ability to see who their soulmate was anyways? people fell in and out of love, regardless.

the lab came up with a final conclusion: most likely, nishimura riki could indeed see people’s soulmates through their red strings. he couldn’t touch the red strings, it was like they were just imaginary, only visible to him. but they had no idea how, but they knew he could see them and if they were connected or not in accordance with his field of vision.

most would think he was just a kid faking it—with a great deal of imagination—but his accuracy of determining two people’s soul connection was a little too frightening to be a childish prank.

form what riki overheard, the government planned to keep his special “power” a secret. after all, riki was just a kid. public knowledge only meant trouble and who knew what else. half argued to leave the poor kid alone, while others vouched to keep him under surveillance for the rest of his life.

either way, riki was forced to keep his mouth shut about his ability—not that he wouldn’t have wanted to say anything anyway.

of course, rumors and secrets still leaked out, but for the most part, riki seemed to be safe. maybe a little too safe. he didn’t really have friends. no, he didn’t have friends at all.

personally, the imaginary ones appearing in his years of loneliness didn’t count. riki possessed a power the world had never seen before, but he had no friends. no childhood. no life.

after five years of living alone in a laboratory surrounded by white lights, white clothes, and more white walls, riki was finally released when the government reached a dead end in their research. how much power could a kid with soulmate seeing abilities wield? the government hoped it was close to none. besides, no one knew when he could get called in again.

his parents? yes, he supposed they did love him. but enough to keep him from being tested on for years and not having a proper life? other would argue it was for the benefit of his “special ability.”

research gave answers that in reality, didn’t have any use. (his parents wouldn’t mention the copious compensation fee the government gave for testing on their son, though).

and riki’s red string himself?

he had to admit, when he was first discovering his newly identified ability, he was also curious about who his soulmate could be. and like many, many others when he took a peek, the string just carried on in the distance, unable to display the carrier of the other end.

once riki was back in the “real world,” he was kept mostly at home during the heat of the summer. but he would always remember the feeling of being taken out of his room and directed outside into a dark, heavily guarded vehicle for occasional checkups. he remembers glancing outside while driving past tall buildings and sometimes seeing countless red strings pass him by, a sight he hadn’t seen since going to the mall with his mother all those years ago.

his mother walked into his room one day with a clean, white envelope in her hands and an unreadable expression on her face. he looked up from his hands, eyes catching her red string hanging again before looking at his mother fully.

“you’re attending a new school, riki.”

ii. eros and psyche.

the cursed rules echo in his mind. they were pretty simple, yet held the heaviest consequences.

don’t tell anyone about your abilities.

especially don’t tell anyone about their soulmate.

it wasn’t his choice to. it’s not like he wanted to, either. even at the mere age of twelve, riki wasn’t one to mess with fate or whatever the universe was doing to him. the red lines invaded his personal space, but at some point it didn’t bother him anymore.

what really bothered him was the daunting task of attending school. learning in person, having homework, interacting with others.

riki was educated at the labs, but that schooling came in the form of simple workbooks and videos.

needless to say, the first few days were rough.

quite hard.

very hard.

waking up early probably got riki the most. being surrounded by so many other kids was quite overwhelming. especially when they stared at him whenever he passed by like he was different.

which, he was.

everyone else had established their respective friend groups already. he learned why pretty early on, though. why the weird looks and gossip passed by him. it was all because of one girl who just really couldn’t whisper for her life. (even without confirming or denying it, he wondered how they found out?)

he even started to go by niki instead of riki—the one letter difference was the best he could do.

perhaps rumors were spreading quickly around about riki and his ‘power’ to see others’ red strings connected to their soulmates.

not even a week of school and riki already developed his own reputation. a feat of its own, no?

at first, it was hard to adjust to seeing so many other kids, waking up at the crack of dawn, and managing the stupid overload of work—basically what seemed to be about everything. but somehow, riki felt a bit more settled in, if he could even describe it as that.

he was quiet, extremely, but still very well known around the school. his grades weren’t bad after all, it turns out riki was pretty alright at “school”, although he mostly slept in class or daydreamed away.

the one thing he could admit he failed at as a human (albeit a ‘special’ human) was socialization.

yeah, riki had basically no friends and he embraced it.

he sat in the back of the class, spoke a total of four words per day, and occasionally messed around. if he really felt like it, he would put in his earbuds and listen to his mixtape like an angsty teen before going home for the day.

all day. all week. on repeat.

if his mother was ever concerned and asked, his rationale would be that riki simply didn’t trust other people. he forced himself to stop caring about and looking at everyone’s red string and soulmates, or anything related.

yet he still had to deal with strangers confronting him and asking who their soulmate was. it was all random people to him, mostly. so who knew what would happen if he became friends with someone, just to discover they used him to find out their soulmate?

even years later, his theory is proven to be accurate.

why, riki internally sighs, do people think they can get whatever they want, whenever they want?

the two girls in front of him, he finally spares them a glance. he just wanted to call it a day, go home and watch some anime or something, not have two random girls pounce on him after school. he barely manages to keep his mouth shut.

“so,” one of them says, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, “can you tell us who our soulmates are?”

which obviously translates to: tell us now or you’ll suffer the consequences.

he takes out an earbud nonchalantly, a blank expression on his face.

“no thanks.”

she takes a step closer, and his eye twitches. “but you can.”

her eyes glare into his, and her friend does the same.

“i can, but will i?” riki asks sarcastically, annoyance beginning to reach its limit. when one of them grabs his shoulder, he starts to panic.

“get your hand off me.” his voice is cold.

“or what?” they mock.

riki grits his teeth, attempting to cool down. he can’t fight back—not just because he doesn’t want to hit them, but because it’ll attract unnecessary attention and that’s the last thing he needs.

the girls giggle that same annoying high pitched sound, although it’s not a blissful or joyful one, it sounds more like a warning with a malicious edge to it.

“oh come on, won’t you be nice to us girls? we’ll let you-“

one hand reaches out and he dodges so quickly they have to pause for a second.

“don’t touch me,” riki puffs out, barely keeping it together.

“i said-“

“how many times does he have to tell you two to leave him alone?”

that was the first time.

the very first time riki ever laid eyes on you, and the very first time his eyes didn’t immediately fall to your hand and red string.

they scowl, about to retort when you shrug uninterestedly, revealing your phone camera pointing straight at them. “i can just report you guys for bullying, you know, or like harassment.”

their eyes widen, before flashing you that look- the one blatantly showing that they just cursed at you silently- before furiously stalking off.

silence follows as you put your phone away and riki collects himself.

you turn to him, voice and expression softer than earlier.

“you good?”

riki shrugs, about to turn away.

“w-wait!” you call out hesitantly. he stops, on the verge of leaving regardless of what you have to say.

“uh, don’t worry. i didn’t actually record anything, just made it look like i did.”

you inhale, trying your best to ignore the awkward atmosphere. “i think we have some classes together? my name’s y/n.”

his eyes flick to yours for a split second before looking away. riki barely nods, putting his earbud back in.

you clear your throat. “and yours is?”

you can barely hear his quiet mutter of an answer before he walks off, leaving you alone in the hallway. you already knew what it was, you just wanted to hear his voice at least once. but his answer leaves you frowning (wondering if you didn’t hear him properly or didn’t clean your own ears properly.)

riki, you contemplate thoughtfully.

regardless of if he was niki or riki, it sounded nicer coming from himself than it did from others.

surprisingly enough, he runs into you again the next day. or not really, you sort of just found your way towards him in the back of the classroom and plopped your stuff down right beside riki.

he didn’t notice you because of his earbuds in until you tap his shoulder, sending a small smile. riki stays emotionless, acknowledging your presence with a quick glance over.

he can’t count the amount of times you attempted at keeping up conversation before giving up. riki would later regret the short, blunt answers he always gave in return. but it baffled him, how you would never mention the red strings or anything related.

you talked about normal things like a normal person, and like riki was a normal person. it was weird how he could learn so much about you based on what you said in a day.

like how you would complain about the astounding amount of homework but always did it all on time and aced every single test. or when you said you were starving but during lunch he would catch you giving your packed lunch to your other friends who were just as hungry as you.

even how you would never fail to greet and sit next to riki, and randomly mutter under your breath for no reason.

he didn’t understand you and how pervasive you were. when he’s a hard concrete wall and you’re still pounding at it every single time. but deep down, he never failed to see your lively soul.

riki’s encountered so many different people with differing intentions, and yet you stand out. he just can’t figure you out.

you pass him the paper for attendance one day and he mutters a small thanks. you practically do a double take, staring at him for a good five seconds before beaming down at your paper. riki doesn’t miss that, either.

he doesn’t know how it happens. you talk to him, and he feels himself responding before he can realize it. you never once mentioned the words red string or soulmate ever. perhaps that was what led him to feel a bit more safe around you. maybe his guard was never let down completely, but you certainly had some effect on him.

maybe, you two became friends. although riki didn’t even know what friends even were. even the school picked up on it quite easily. one of the most brilliant kids in the grade hanging with the outcast- the weird kid who never said a word.

riki doesn’t understand. you have your own friends–he assumes. why even bother with him?

you start sitting next to him at lunch, for crying out loud.

not that he minded, it was actually nice to sit next to someone and not an empty chair or desk.

“hey,” you plop down next to riki, stuffing a grape into your mouth. “what’d you get on the test?”

he looks up. “which one?”

you sigh, taking out a binder.

“history.”

riki takes out an earbud, blinking. “78. you?”

you tsk while popping another grape into your mouth. “i thought our study session was helpful. i got a 97.”

he scoffs, nothing your displeased expression. “you’re smart. you should be happy.”

you raise your eyebrows, ready to retort.

“ you’re smart too, nishimura riki.”

“-if you stopped watching anime all day.”

you just barely manage to dodge the flying grape aimed at you.

you take the seat next to him, taking out one of his earbuds with an intent expression. riki looks up at the loss of sound in his left ear, eyebrows furrowed to object. he stops when he sees you.

“you wanna hang out after class?”

“no.”

you pout. “why not?”

he shrugs. “ask my mom.”

“i personally think she would be ecstatic with you going out instead of staying cooped up inside all day.”

he has to stay silent at that.

triumphant, you pack up your stuff, not bothering to wait for his answer. “five pm at the gates.”

he shows up. riki wasn’t that big of a jerk (at least he thinks so).

he did again when you invited him out after that. and again, and again.

even when you both start adding more and more layers to your everyday outfits, nothing changes. even when exams started and the pink blossoms began falling from the trees.

it’s like one second you were having one sided conversations and the next thing you know, you’re laying down next to each other in the grass during your lunch break.

“so you literally just see the strings?”

oh, yeah.

that was one of the things about you that made riki dumbfounded. at first, you didn’t say a single word about his ability. but as riki let his guard down and opened up more, he realized it was because you actually had no clue. somehow all the rumors that were spread about him never reached you. but once you found out, you did not stop asking questions. countless questions about his “really, really cool superpower” as you deemed it.

“yeah. i see it.”

“everyday? all the time?”

he shoots you a look. “no, i can just sneeze and it’ll turn off.”

“really?”

“no, stupid.”

you huff, hands behind your head as you turn to glance at him and he averts his gaze quickly from your face.

“that’s cool. but you probably wish you could turn it off, right?”

all the time, he thinks bitterly. maybe even permanently.

“can you touch them?”

“i told you already that i can’t!” he shifts, “besides, why would i want to—everyone would just be staring at me like i was a psycho if they just saw me creepily petting the air or whatever.”

he watches your reaction, seeing the corners of your mouth tilt up as you imagine it, and it makes his as well. there’s something satisfying about seeing your reaction that makes him unable to resist.

you abruptly stop, murmuring, “we’re friends, right?”

he pauses, swallowing. “uh, sure. what makes you ask that?” quickly, you shake your head. “oh no, i just never asked you before. wanted confirmation.”

“your only friend, right?” you add jokingly, and he elbows your side.

“i’m kidding-“

“...but i like that,” you add quietly.

a petal flutters down from the tree above you, landing in your hair. you don’t notice as you’re distracted, but riki does. as you start to speak again, he lifts a hand and delicately picks it out. you stop mid sentence as riki watches you gently.

he swallows, and you quickly clear your throat.

it was true. suddenly, riki’s quite glad that he didn’t know who your—his only friend—soulmate was. why, he’s not sure. all riki knows is that he doesn’t want to find out who your soulmate is.

and he’d never admit it, but it was probably (definitely) fear. fear at who your string was connected to. why?

he had no clue and that scared him even more.

riki’s pulled along by your surprisingly strong grip, weaving through corridors and into an empty classroom. a couple of students stare as you two pass by, apparently still not over the fact that you and riki could be friends—let alone be in the same room.

panting, you shut the door and lock it, but stay close to watch out through the window quietly. riki notices your hand still tightly intertwined with his but he decides to keep quiet.

“what’s going on?” he whispers. your gaze breaks away from the window in order to reply to him. “this guy keeps following me-i’m pretty sure it’s the one who left the confession note in my locker and won’t leave me alone during the periods i don’t have with you.”

“someone likes you?” he asks incredulously, and you slap a hand over his mouth, shushing him fiercely as you continue your patrol from inside the classroom.

his insides suddenly feel unpleasant. it’s already uncomfortable and stuffy enough in the room, being squished next to you behind the door so no one- well, apparently this annoying guy who’s stalking you- can find your whereabouts. he doesn’t know who this person is, but he doesn’t like it. not one bit.

suddenly, there’s a voice coming from outside, one asking for the location of you. a couple of female ones answer, and riki figures they must belong to the girls from earlier who saw you guys pass by.

you gasp, and riki feels your grip tighten. you pull him in closer so you’re practically squished together against the door, breaths held as quietly as possible.

it takes everything in him not to squirm as riki waits, he fears you can hear the sound of his heart pounding.

two… three… five minutes pass. only when you hear complete silence do you release him. flustered, riki pulls away, attempting to fix his wrinkled uniform so you don’t notice his reaction.

it must’ve been a clear success, as you only heave a sigh of relief and flash a mischievous grin towards riki.

“i think we’re good, let’s get out of here!”

you don’t make any leeway for him, escaping past the door and out the classroom without a sound.

riki pauses, taking a second to catch his breath. the past few seconds of your close proximity replay in his mind. he shakes it off, brushing the weird sensation in his gut.

still, he wonders if there was any chance you felt that too. or was it just him?

you throw your arm around riki, sporting a grin with a creepy similarity to that of the cheshire cat’s. he flinches at your action, almost cursing in the middle of the crowd of students. “what do you want?”

by this point, finally after two years, most people had gotten used to the sight of the two of you. all the gossip and whispers behind your back flew over his head—and it had never bothered you in the first place.

you stifle a laugh. “no need to be so grumpy. come on, follow me.” you weave through the hallway of crowded kids and riki struggles to keep up, puzzled.

he follows you to the somewhat empty courtyard, sitting down on a nice patch of grass as you wait for him to get settled. “why did you take me out here?”

you roll your eyes, “patient as ever, nishimura riki.” you dig through your messy school bag before your eyes light up.

“close your eyes,” you order.

he does as you say, no questions asked. riki feels a delicate sensation on his wrist—at this point he can recognize your warmth pretty easily.

“all done.”

he cautiously peeks his eyes open only to see you staring expectantly back at him. soon, his gaze falls down to where he felt your light touch before.

a simple, silver chain wraps around his thin wrist.

pretty.

confused, riki furrows his eyebrows, meeting your eyes that glimmer with a strange compassion.

you hold up your own hand with a cute smile that makes his heart pound, displaying a matching bracelet—identical to his.

“it’s not much but, happy birthday, riki.”

to think that he himself didn’t even remember his own birthday. you beam at him, and he feels his ears grow red.

“do you like it?”

“y-yeah,” he mumbles and you nod in satisfaction. “good, because i spent my own money out of my pocket for it. it wasn’t cheap, you know.”

his eyes widen and you press your lips together. “in exchange, you have to promise me something.”

under the peacefully swaying trees, under the warm sunlight and buzzing spring, he realizes he could promise you anything.

you hold out your left pinky. “you’ll stick by my side no matter what. promise me that.”

he opens his mouth to speak but you’re faster, raising your other pointer finger to cover his lips. “just promise me or else i’ll take away your gift.”

your childlike orbs envelop him, full of life and sincerity—he knows he’ll never forget that day.

nor when his own pinky reaches up to link with yours.

riki remembers the day as clear as a fresh glass of water, a still puddle of rain that collected after the summer thunderstorms.

you met up with him in first period as you usually did, ruffling his hair with an easy grin as he grumbles (albeit with an affectionate look that you failed to notice).

class continued on normally, somewhat rowdy as always before the teacher came in. you get up to grab something on the floor, hair falling into your eyes. as usual, riki watches over you before spotting your foot catching on one of the chair’s legs. he quickly shouts out a warning, grabbing your wrist in order to balance you as your head whips up.

he catches you, staring at you in concern and making sure you’re alright. you stare at him in shock, flustered and without a response. he chides you with a roll of his eyes, mumbling something about how clumsy you always were and how he always had to watch out for you.

you can’t seem to form any words, so you just snatch your arm back and sit down. riki wordlessly offers a earbud to you, and you accept it with a smile. it’s something you got used to doing, sharing music and playlists with each other.

even as others made fun of you for doing supposedly cheesy couple things, you ignored them. but it did make you wonder. did you and riki seem like a couple? were you?

you guys were young, you had all of high school still to get through together.

what did it mean?

your thoughts get interrupted by the teacher opening the door. everyone settles down, attention focusing.

but today, it was different. it wasn’t just your teacher walking in.

there was an addition. an addition that came in the form of a handsome looking boy, around the same age as you guys.

the teacher introduces him as a transfer student. yang jungwon, he smiles and riki swears people swoon. everyone’s attention is on him, even yours is as you all study him curiously.

riki swore he was past all that looking at people’s soulmate strings and connections. it had been so long since he tried to put two and two together. it was a whole invasion of privacy, and he simply didn’t want to bother himself with other people’s affairs and relations.

but once he saw that new kid step into the room, riki can only focus on his hand, the first thing that came into his view.

and like it was in slow motion, he follows the tiny red string on his pinky down the row of desks to someone sitting a few inches away from riki himself, obviously not paying attention and oblivious to everything while listening to a shared earbud— you.

he almost thinks his eyes are fooling him. it was barely connected by that thin, cursed string. and that’s when it really hits him.

that string was connected to yours.

that string meant your soulmate just walked into the classroom—

and it certainly wasn’t riki.

“jungwon’s really cool. did you know he did taekwondo since he was….”

riki ignores the chatter in the halls as he walks by, brooding as always. but this week was a bit harsher. probably, no, definitely because of the new student jungwon.

ever since he joined your class, people had been talking about him nonstop. it seemed like jungwon was one of the popular kids now, without even doing anything. riki didn’t get what was so cool about him, anyway.

sure he was “cute” and had a kind personality. sure he was incredibly smart and well spoken. that’s all riki had heard the past week from everyone else gossiping in awe.

he turns up the volume on his phone, scoffing. what are they, his fans?

riki wasn’t sure what to do with the newfound information about your soulmate. he didn’t really want to think about it, his first instinct was to look for you in his next period for some cheering up. but when he walks into the classroom, he doesn’t expect to see aforementioned person talking to you, an animated look on his face.

jungwon gestures grandly, probably telling some super cool story from all his achievements. you seem pretty invested, watching with big eyes and occasionally laughing.

riki feels desperation and anger swirl in the pit of his stomach. even worse, he feels loneliness. something he hasn’t felt for a long time blooms inside—something he hasn’t felt since he met you.

what is he supposed to do now that you’ve found your soulmate? or rather, riki has?

you thought everything was fine. everything seemed fine. after the new guy joined your class, riki acted a little weird the first couple of days but he returned to normal soon after. you figured it was because of his normally shy personality. it took you a (long) while for him to warm up to too, after all.

but what you didn’t expect was for him to almost launch a full on investigation. on the new kid jungwon, strangely enough.

you frown. “he’s nice? why are you asking me this? it’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

sure, jungwon talked to you unexpectedly a couple of times, but he was very popular and did that to many people. it wasn’t like he was targeting you or anything like that. or so that’s what you believed.

but it didn’t stop there. in the few classes you shared with the two boys, whenever jungwon would start up a friendly conversation with you, you could feel riki staring holes into your back. and whenever riki made a dumb joke in the middle of class and you flicked him playfully, you swore you caught jungwon’s eye on more than one occasion.

you brushed it off, but one day it was suddenly no longer a matter of trivial things.

usually it was just you and riki at your lunch table, and it had been that way for a while. your friends opted to stay away from him, and you shrugged it off. it was their loss, not yours.

so when jungwon and his group of popular kids approached you and riki, jungwon taking the seat next to you while riki visibly tensed, you figured something was up. you could hear the onslaught of whispers from surrounding tables.

jungwon, the ideal student, joining you and the weird outcast riki?

from then on, the changes were too drastic to ignore. hanging out with just riki, you knew he was obviously bothered but wouldn’t tell you about it. it was visible that he had a clear disdain for jungwon, but would never verbally express it as much as you tried to get it out of him. it was an unreachable part of him, although you thought you had worked hard to get past that secretive, closed off part of him.

worse was jungwon sitting next to you various times in class and making too much conversation for you to ignore (although you really tried to show you weren’t interested in talking the whole time). all while riki stared forward with an unreadable expression, music practically on full blast.

you didn’t know what was going on, and you didn’t know the situation—how to get a grasp on it. you especially didn’t know the occasional looks the two boys would give each other, and how things would change so soon.

all you knew was that it happened one gloomy day, nearing the end of the school year.

you had just finished an exam in science and went looking for riki to walk home together, as you did every day when school ended. when he wasn’t anywhere to be found, you asked around.

most answers came in the form of shrugs, however a couple of classmates recalled seeing him with another group of kids.

you frowned—what reason would riki have to go off with some other people? perhaps you heard the mention of jungwon’s name but you were too preoccupied with finding riki to really pay attention.

before you could get far, you were welcomed into a strange atmosphere when you reached the courtyard. students whispering and gossiping with a variety of expressions present. your heart began to race as you look around. where is he?

you figure you must’ve missed something as the crowd eventually disperses and you get no answers. perhaps riki had a schedule after school and forgot to tell you?

you could’ve sworn you heard someone say jungwon’s name again, but this time along with riki’s name. you brush it off though as you needed to get home before it started to rain—you could feel it in the air.

so you send riki a quick message before starting on the journey home.

the next morning, you checked your phone to find no response. weird.

either way, you had no time to question it as you were already late to class, so you quickly slip in to the seat next to your classmate. your eyes don’t fail to see riki and jungwon’s empty seats.

you nudge haerin sitting next to you. “do you know where niki is? i haven’t seen him since lunch yesterday and he hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

her eyes widen as she places a hand on your shoulder.

“y/n….you haven’t heard?”

your eyebrows furrow, “heard what? what’s going on?”

the next thing you remember, is your heart dropping.

“niki’s leaving.”

riki…leaving you?

“what do you mean?”

her eyes soften, and you begin to despise the pity on her face. “he’s leaving the school. no one knows why but-“

you zone out after that.

your best friend transferring schools—moving away for some unexplained reason?

no one at school says anything, and you feel like everyone’s keeping you out of the loop on purpose. you hate the feeling that you’re missing a huge piece of the puzzle.

with no explanation, with no answer from his number (no matter how many times you tried calling), riki disappears in the blink of an eye. it’s as if he never existed in the first place.

rumors follow but you know better than to listen to them. all you found out was apparently something happened that day—you suspect, no you know, between riki and jungwon—and the damned result was riki leaving your school.

he never mentioned anything about moving, as far as you knew. he never acted like anything was wrong either. it had to have been something from that day. or maybe not.

at this point, you didn’t know what to believe. you had just lost your closest friend, your study-slash-lunch-slash-everything buddy, and your number one support.

and somehow everything was supposed to go back to normal. everyone continues on normally, including jungwon.

everyone except you.

he’s gone and he left you alone.

as if you ever hoped to see him again.

iii. welcome to the world.

you exhale, smoothing out your wrinkled outfit for the tenth time. you chide yourself internally, why were you so nervous?

it was just an internship. your first day, too. only recently did you graduate high school yourself.

it was just the first day of your newly acquired internship and yet you were nervous for it at a new company in a new city. it was your choice to relocate to a new area for new beginnings and new memories.

to be quite frank, you had no clue what you were doing. why did you even decide to focus on photography? you most definitely didn’t have much experience, only starting the hobby when you graduated high school. maybe you wanted a chance to take your mind off life and see things in a new light. a second chance.

maybe photos didn’t make you feel as alone.

shivering, you shake your head to clear free of thoughts. time to get this over with. the oh so dreaded first day.

before leaving, you don’t forget to leave some food for the stray cat outside your place. you then get up with a satisfied grunt and make your way to the bus stop.

however, your new boss was kind and understanding of your nervousness. you visited the company a couple times before, but never enough to get familiar with the layout and other photographers due to obtaining the internship so suddenly. you didn’t expect to get it either, not as a young, inexperienced student almost fresh out of college. either luck was on your side or your talent seemed to shine through.

it was strange to be in such a different environment than from what you grew up in. supportive, encouraging people all highly invested and passionate in their jobs.

you set up everything in your assigned desk and wait for further instruction.

your boss had showed you around and gotten you used to the daily activities of those working at a photography company, making your transition much smoother.

the whole experience was a little too easy, making you feel so much lighter. you could feel it. things were good- perhaps too good to be true.

“isn’t the first day always the best?” mr. lee, your boss, speaks up.

you quickly nod. “so far, it’s been really good. i was just wondering what my job was actually going to be for the next few months.”

he claps his hands together, almost startling you.

“of course—i like your attentiveness! you’ll be working under one of our best, accompanying him on his work and assisting with whatever he needs to get a feel for what we do here. we can meet him now if you’d like?” his question causes you to pause.

“of course.” you wonder who this ‘he’ was, apparently being one of the best.

a sudden wave of nervousness hits you. all the doubts and fears start to rise, so you swallow and try your best to suppress it.

why did you have such a bad feeling?

as your boss leads you down the offices and desks, you nod enthusiastically and laugh at his remarks as you make your way to the stairway. you go up, about to reach the top step when you spot someone coming down, their faculty name tag flashing in the light. you just barely steal a glimpse of the name, of the face of the person moving.

it’s foreign yet familiar at the same time.

you pause. his face…

you doubt you heard mr lee’s sudden hearty welcome to said person, turning to introduce you with a bright smile. a smile that doesn’t know anything.

“ha, what a coincidence. this is miss y/l/n! you still haven’t met one of our most talented photographers, have you?”

that’s when it hits you.

you feel like everything’s occurring in slow motion, mr. lee’s lips moving slowly, the person’s unreadable expression morphing as you both come to a realization.

“this is our very own best nishimura. nishimura riki.”

your heart drops. no.

it’s not. it can’t be.

why does it feel like the world just crashed down around you? why is it suddenly so hard to breathe? your eyes can’t leave those familiar ones, the same ones that have haunted you ever since that day.

those eyes that fill with recognition at the sight of you, you’re sure of it.

and then, everything is set into motion once more. you blink quickly, several times, exhaling as you try to readjust.

“nice to meet you,” you quickly bow while avoiding his gaze. this actually can’t be.

“you’ll be working with him for the-“

you mutter some lame excuse of needing to go to the restroom before dashing up the rest of the stairs to the nearest safe room, ignoring your boss’s surprised voice.

once you find the restroom, you find the sink and turn on the water. you scrub and scrub your hands before staring at yourself in the mirror.

not after all this time-

not after he left you, he can’t just suddenly appear again. did you just imagine him?

you still can’t believe it, almost refuse to believe it. nishimura riki, after 10 or so years, appears in the flesh right before you. you had long given up on trying to find him. and here he is, working at the same place as you.

he exists, perfectly alive and well without you.

it was just too much. riki was all grown up. he really looked the same, just much, much taller and more grown up in his professional attire. you weren’t used to it. or the fact that, he came back.

unless he never really left.

all those years in middle school and high school you tried to forget come rushing back. the rumors that followed your footsteps, the questions never answered. all those years of pain and loneliness, and confusion-

staying up so many nights pondering what you did that made him run away, leave you when he promised he would be there. after all that time wondering and wondering why and how and what you did. and what could’ve been done.

maybe you were being dramatic but it doesn’t change the fact that he left without a word, and with no contact for you to keep in touch. no attempt at all.

you were so hurt, so closed off now. you convinced yourself that you never cared to see his face again, but what were you supposed to do when riki shows up again, unannounced in front of you like nothing ever happened?

was there even anything left between you two?

you decided early on that your best course of action was to pretend that you never knew him. riki was a complete stranger, and it wasn’t truly a lie. it had been so long since you last saw him.

but you know that won’t work forever. especially not when he was the one you were working under.

you didn’t know what to call him, how to call him. mr. nishimura sounded way too formal especially considering your history, and riki was obviously off limits.

the next day, you stand in front of his desk with your hands clasped together in front of you like a scolded child in front of the principal. you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.

“so…uh, i guess you’ll be working with me for the next couple of months?”

you barely nod, shifting in your position uncomfortably. instead, your eyes fall on the pictures scattered around the walls in riki’s office.

“i’ve never had an intern before, so-“

you interrupt him impatiently while still avoiding eye contact.

“just tell me what you need me to do, mr. nishimura.”

you could visibly see the both of you cringe at that.

“-please.” you add pitifully as an afterthought.

noticing your coldness, riki must have enough common sense to give you some papers to file and chart.

what a wonderful first day.

you would describe your present relationship with riki as a very formal (and strained) senior-junior one. besides your daily task of avoiding your own mentor as much as possible, you rather enjoyed the work. so far, getting to learn the true process behind taking photos was something you never experienced.

and seeing riki in his element, with his raw talent and skill was another thing in itself. it was a lot to process, seeing an entirely different, mature riki.

you were a little too sad that you missed his growing up.

in the break room one morning, you sip peacefully on your freshly made coffee. it was a nice day, at least you believed so until you heard the door open, signaling the entrance of another person.

you’re about to greet them politely until you realize who exactly it was. you swallow a little too harshly, tensing as the person approached you.

“if you’ll excuse me,” you mutter while slipping past him. riki stands there, unmoving as he watches your figure leave.

it had been like that since the first day when he was reintroduced to you. dry to no responses, indifferent gaze, not a single glimpse into you. into the you that he knew, or once knew.

it was like he was the one talking to a built up wall, unable to do any damage. it’s almost funny how it’s like your positions from back then were switched.

he figured your cold and unapproachable demeanor was only to him—understandably. there was a lot you must’ve been feeling, as well as he. it was a long journey with a lot of baggage riki was still carrying.

still, he sees you with some of the other interns, smiling and laughing as you once did with him. as he stares at you from afar (hopefully not in a stalkerish way), riki realizes that you still have the same laugh, same smile, same attentive expression when someone calls your name.

and yet, you’re so different. you’re so far away from him.

as time goes on, you realize you can’t act like a little kid for the rest of your life. well, for the rest of the time you had this internship (and currently you didn’t have any plans to resign, especially since you literally just started).

during the lunch break, you don’t expect the seat next to you to be taken. you stiffen once you realize who it is—his presence was so familiar that you didn’t even have to take a glance to see who it was.

you start to rise from your seat, but a hand clasps gently around your arm. you freeze.

“y/n,” he starts quietly. you shiver at the sound of his voice, recognizable yet unrecognizable at the same time. you feel like you can’t breathe.

“please. not now.”

with that, you stalk away, meanwhile your eyes fly across the room to ensure no one saw your interaction.

how much longer could you keep doing this?

the more you see him, the more you can’t ignore the fact that you really, really did miss him. it’s like nothing changed—except for his appearance—and you couldn’t suppress the amount of relief you had at the realization that riki was still riki, after all.

he was still the same boy you shared earbuds with back then, at least in your eyes.

you want to know how he’s been. what he’s done, how he came back, how he became the person he is today.

on the other hand, riki realizes the complete transformation you’ve undergone.

the first conversation he had with you after oh so many years, you merely handed him his coffee with a short nod. his attempt to bring up the weather, school, anything just to talk to you again, obviously fell short.

riki’s strategy? give you your space and time. of course he respected that, and maybe you noticed because it seemed to weaken the intimidating barrier from before.

after that, you acknowledged him, greeted him (albeit shortly) every morning—riki even noticed you watching him edit some photos although you thought he couldn’t see you.

while you would never admit it, riki looked pretty cool teaching you his tips and tricks. you didn’t realize how much his job suited him and how lucky his company was to have acquired such a talented, soulful person as a photographer.

you can tell, riki wants to get talk to you so badly, but in fear of getting hurt again, you push him away. it’s hard, when all you can do is expect him to vanish without another trace again.

as you finish touchups on the last photo, you sigh and rub your eyes. things were different now. no point in wondering what could have been.

you walk out into the hallway, wishing to get some coffee to power through those last edits. but you soon stop in your tracks.

“y-y/n.”

your eyes lower to the floor, acknowledging him with a nod. “hey.”

“are you going to the break room?”

you nod again.

“then…” he hits you with those hopeful eyes and you curse internally. “can i come with?”

a surprisingly comfortable silence fills the air, along with the soothing smell of coffee.

riki comments on your more compliant and meek nature—it’s certainly supposed to be a joke but you take it the wrong way.

you frown. “i’ve changed, riki.”

he falters. maybe he’s done too much, too soon.

“i’ve grown up. just like you have. we both have, so maybe you should accept me now like i have to you.”

you turn to leave but he grabs your wrist.

“please. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that. i know i’m in no position to say this, but i thought we were doing okay. i really want to be friends with you again—truly.”

you sigh audibly. there really was no value in being awkward with him for your time here. at least if you tried to maintain an amicable relationship, you wouldn’t have to make up dumb excuses every time you saw him. and if you got closer again, perhaps you could figure out after all this time why he left.

even more importantly, why he came back.

“could we please start over?” his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it (and much deeper than you were used to).

you wait two, three seconds before turning around,

and sticking your hand out.

“nice to meet you,” you introduce yourself. you watch the smile start to grow on his face.

“i’m nishimura riki, and it’s very nice to meet you too.”

riki sighs, clicking the red x button in the corner. he finished his last portfolio with you as his assistant. it was only a matter of hours, or minutes, before he was assigned his next project. he turns off the light and closes the door behind his office, only to be greeted by your figure.

an eyebrow of his raises. “were you waiting for me?”

you scoff, casually kicking the ground with your shoe while looking off into the distance. “no.”

“well, i was,” you glance at him abruptly in surprise, “let’s go.”

“huh?”

he shrugs, “we finished and everyone else is gone.”

you didn’t expect riki to be so… enthusiastic about it. it as in hanging out together, as friends again.

maybe, you always knew in the end you had to give in. there was no way you could keep up this act against riki. it had always been like that.

if anyone saw you two out now they would probably assume you were two college kids on a date.

wait- date?

“-y/n?”

you glance up, startled. “yeah?”

riki frowns, sipping his boba. “are you okay? you seemed distracted. what were you thinking about?”

you shake your head with a sheepish laugh, “nothing. sorry.”

you wondered how you got to this point.

meeting riki outside of work and hoping you don’t run into any of your co-workers. honestly, it was fun to have a friend to talk with—it was fun to have riki next to you again.

your teenage self would have been dumbfounded.

while you had this time with him, you could finally ask some things you were curious about.

“riki,” you start off and he tries his best to keep calm. it was the first time you had called him by his first name in years. he missed it dearly.

“how did you get into photography?”

he knows what you meant to ask. how did you get here?

he falls back into his chair, staring up at the ceiling. you know just know riki too well, simply waiting patiently for him to take his time.

“i don’t know, to be honest. i always felt different from everyone else.” he pauses and looks at you, “you knew that the best.”

“i wanted to study people more. so i started taking pictures of others. now i just specialize in photographing more important people, like models and idols. i still don’t know how i got here though. that’s the truth.”

“you’re really good,” you say lamely. “you’re very talented and i’m jealous, to be frank.”

you see his ears turn red as he coughs shyly.

“thank you. i guess it’s what i’m best at.”

that wasn’t the exact answer you were expecting, but you took it. soon, you promised yourself, you would uncover the truth.

iv. cupid’s attack.

you like to think that you and riki get into a good groove at work.

you can’t help but burst out laughing, and riki almost stops in his tracks.

he realizes that sweet and soulful sound was just as he last remembered it. it almost makes him shiver. yes, not everything changed about you.

he knows. it can’t last forever—this push and pull relationship. plus, your budding relationship has to result in an explanation. you deserve it at the very least.

as much as riki wanted to keep it hidden, secrets can’t always stay secrets forever. he can’t protect you from everything in this world, his selfish wants can’t always be kept.

as the two of you joke around, various other workers stare at you in envy. somehow, you got to work with the mysterious yet talented riki. the one who got hired out of the blue and somehow rose to the top. no one could deny his skill.

his intimidating and mysterious aura haunted the office for some time. that is, until you came. the way he treated you was shocking to say the least. it seemed like you two were in your own world. there was definitely something, and everyone could see that.

“sorry to interrupt,” another intern speaks up shyly, but the boss wanted me to tell you guys that the party starts at 8.”

“party?” you turn to riki with a perplexed expression.

“ah, i forgot to mention. we have an office dinner party to celebrate the new interns and their hard work.” riki nudges you with a glint as your eyes widen.

“that includes you.”

you weren’t the partying type—if that wasn’t obvious enough. especially not one out of the blue, one not meant for you.

you shift uncomfortably at the large dinner table. riki ended up sitting next to you somehow. you like to think he did it on purpose, knowing you weren’t the type to enjoy socializing in large groups (and neither was he). but little did you know, he came for you.

only you.

everyone was urging you guys to drink, as it was custom to do so at office parties. but you had a limit, so when you get up to leave, making some lame excuse about having more work to finish up at home, riki immediately gets up as well. all eyes fall on you two, and you awkwardly take your leave with a tipsy riki in tow.

“yeah, it’s definitely time to get you home.”

with a rather embarrassing grunt and help from fellow co-workers, you manage to get a grip around riki’s shoulders.

once you make it out of the restaurant however, you realize that you indeed have no clue where riki lives.

“riki,” you start off cautiously, “what’s your address?”

“there!” he points sluggishly toward a nearby barbecue place. you huff.

“seriously, riki. i need to get you home. you’re way too drunk to-“

“let’s go there,” he slurs. “i’m hungry.”

as much as you stand your ground, his incessant begging eventually gets to your head and you cave.

“fine. i’ll just order you some side dishes. then we’re actually going home.”

you can only blink at the amount of dishes on the table that riki ate alone (and the amount that was going to be charged to your card).

“riki… i think that’s enough.” you softly place a hand on his still holding the chopsticks. you mutter something along the lines of, i didn’t know you ate this much this late at night…

somehow, he manages to hear you. he sounds more sober and looks more sober as well, to your relief. “yeah, well, how do you think i got this tall?”

it’s true, you were quite shocked at how tall he got. for a second, you simply stare at him while lost in your thoughts. perhaps it was the alcohol still running in your system.

he raises an eyebrow, “what’s so interesting about me suddenly?”

you clear your throat, felling your face turn hot. “nothing.”

suddenly, it feels as if the mood has changed again. you know this is your chance, and you can’t miss it. not ever again.

“don’t you need to go home soon? would, would anyone be waiting?”

riki lets out a short laugh.

“as if. i’ve been living alone ever since i came back.”

ever since he came back.

you look down at your hands.

“why did you come back?” you whisper. and yet, he hears it again.

as he’s about to respond, you glance at him with a conflicted look. “why did you leave?”

riki inhales, placing his chopsticks on the table neatly. “i’m just… so sorry y/n, for leaving you-“

“then tell me. that’s the least you can do.”

you hate how your voice quivers at the end.

“i… it’s all my fault. i lost control. i got into a fight with yang jungwon.”

you try your best to keep the surprise off your face and let him continue.

“and with my reputation at the school, my parents and the principal came to the conclusion that it was best for me to leave.”

“i didn’t know that it meant going overseas,” he quickly adds, “but i had no choice as a teenager. i could only listen to my parents and when i got the chance, i came back as soon as i could.”

you almost forgot about his so called ability. but it didn’t even matter at this point. you had countless questions, but it seemed like riki was still holding back. there was something he didn’t want to tell you, something he didn’t want you to know.

you were somewhat satisfied with his answers, but something was still bothering you.

you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for some sort of response.

“i see… but why didn’t you come find me?” you voice cracks. “why didn’t you make any effort at all to see me again? because so far, it seems like you were pretty okay with me not knowing that you still existed.”

what you really meant to say was,

you seemed perfectly fine without me. you seemed perfectly fine while i was still hurting after all this time.

“even more,” you continue on, “after you came back all this time.”

riki shakes his head, “i was looking for you.”

you falter at that.

“i always was, even in another country far away. i had to get a new phone and lost your number and all contact. but when i was finally able to come back to our hometown, you were gone. i was able to get a job at our current company due to my parents connections, and i was going to use that money to pay for travel expenses. just to find you.”

“i swear y/n,” and you almost tear up at the sincerity in his eyes, “i would never abandon you.”

“just like i promised all those years ago.”

his voice grows soft, “i always wondered what happened after i left. what you were up to. i imagined you being super successful while doing something you love.”

you laugh in order to lighten up the heavy mood, “as you can see now, that’s certainly not the case. i actually have no clue what i’m doing with my life.”

“you’re- you’re not with anyone or anything?”

you shoot him a baffled look, “what in the world? i can’t even take care of myself, let alone another person.”

you’re so shocked at the question that you miss riki’s subtle sigh of relief. you hadn’t gotten with jungwon— at least not yet, he thinks.

“then, what was high school like? you know, without me?”

you shake your head, not willing to think about those times.

“lonely, obviously, without you,” you grumble.

you had some friends still, but they weren’t riki. they never would be and could never replace him.

you decide to not mention jungwon and the short period of time after riki’s leaving in which he tried to hang out with you. most definitely not after learning what riki told you.

it was weird even to you, how such a popular guy like yang jungwon wanted to hang out with you for some time. but he soon gave up, whether it was because of all the other students noticing and gossiping or because of your moody brooding over the loss of riki.

“that’s all?”

you nod shortly. “i graduated, became interested in photography, and applied for this internship. end of story.”

you shake your head, “i just don’t know how we both got here at the same company, at the same time. man, i was even chosen to work for you of all people.”

riki’s smile grows–

“it’s like it was fate,” you murmur absentmindedly.

–and it immediately drops at that.

“can you still see people’s red strings?” of course, you had to bring that topic up at this time.

“yeah. but i’m done with all that soulmate connection strings and stuff. i just ignore it now.”

you obviously see his change in demeanor at the topic.

“that’s good. it obviously doesn’t affect your photography. i didn’t know how talented you were.”

although so many people had told him that before, it was different hearing it from you. he blames his face flushing on the alcohol, not your compliment.

“t-thanks. you are too. i can see your potential.”

you cock your head, “really? aren’t you just saying that because i’m working with you?”

he shakes his head vehemently.

“of course not. i think you’re one of the most special people in the world. you would be good at anything you want to do, because that’s just you y/n.”

you cough at the sudden change in the air. you don’t think you can handle his endless complimenting.

“thank you riki, really. but are you done eating? i think we should head out.”

you leave with not just your stomachs fuller, but your mind and heart as well.

other nights were spent staying up at the office, finishing edits and cuts. those were the best nights though, in your opinion.

you got the best advice and the best late night talks with riki—he really felt like a leader now. it made you realize how grown up he became.

“i still have the bracelet you gave me. i keep it on my desk just so i don’t lose it.”

your mouth drops open, “ no way? the one i gave you in middle school?” he nods and you internally shudder while thinking about what happened to yours.

“i hate to break it to you, riki, but i actually lost mine..”

–which translated to i threw mine away out of anger and sadness. but you figured you could keep that a secret for the time being.

“it’s fine. i’ll just get us new matching ones.” riki swears he never will forget the satisfied smile on your face, eyes twinkling and nose scrunching.

that was it. riki really tried.

he tried his best, but he can’t help falling in love with you.

he can’t even tell if you like him back or if you’re just being kind, because you are originally just a kind and beautiful soul.

he likes you too much it hurts, but he can’t be hurt again. he doesn’t want to be.

he doesn’t want to tell you about all the secret pictures he would snap of you instead of the actual model that he was working with. the amount of time and effort put into his hidden collection of you. it was one of his works that he was the most proudest of. one that he would cherish forever.

he didn’t even know when he realized it— that riki loved you. perhaps it was the countless hours spent up at night thinking about you, all alone.

but loving you came easily and naturally. red string or not, niki would love you endlessly no matter what. and whatever happened in the end, he would only want happiness for you.

occasionally he would wonder why he had to go through all that testing when he was young, why he had to go thought that entire, torturous and isolating experience.

but then he thinks about you and how without being stuck in the lab for however many years, he would have never met you in the conditions that you met in. you would have never gotten the chance to save him from those bullies if he had gone to school at a normal age and been like all the other kids.

everything that happened to riki, it was to bring him to you. for some reason, he’s sure of it.

even with all that—the feelings and acceptance and denial— riki tries his best to suppress his feelings and just enjoy being with you again. just to make up for lost time, he reasons.

he knew you two weren’t soulmates, he saw it once more the supposedly fated day he met you again for the second time.

still, he doesn’t think he could be with anyone else but you. riki knows in his heart you’re the only one for him. he stares at his own red string leading off into the unknown distance. even if the universe said otherwise.

even if the universe said otherwise, he didn’t want to lose you again.

the vip landyards you got for entering the venue backstage weren’t vip after all.

one good thing about riki’s job was the free access to public events, obviously to capture the best photos. but on this occasion, you two were denied access for no particular reason.

no matter how much riki demanded, the even taller and intimidating body guards wouldn’t budge.

“it’s fine,” you place a hand on riki’s shoulder to calm him. “we can just go through the front. i bet someone will be willing to listen to us there.”

you know riki wants to argue more but you give him a look and he concedes.

the crowd was wilder than you thought though. mainly due to it being some group called oncolon or whatever performing. navigating through the huge crowd, riki suddenly takes your hand tightly.

you almost trip over some person’s foot, glancing at him with wide eyes and a slight blush. he doesn’t say a single word.

you’re sure you’ve gotten knocked and pushed several times in the wild crowd. you try your best to keep up, but at some point, too many bodies separate you and riki.

a rather hard shove causes you to lose your balance, falling onto the ground (with a painful jolt up your butt).

all you can hear is the booming music for a moment and the flashing lights, until a hand suddenly reaches through. you almost don’t notice it at first until you hear your name being called.

suddenly you’re being pulled up forward, into sturdy arms.

“are you okay? sorry i lost you-“

when you see that it’s riki, dark orbs filled with concerned as he speaks, you nod dumbly while zoning the rest of his words out.

you couldn’t really concentrate, not when you were trying to process the fluttering of your heart and his body oh so close to yours.

but oh no, it doesn’t stop there.

it was rather sudden—you called riki over to your desk to ask for his opinion some time later.

“should i lower the exposure more? i know you were going for a darker look since it fits the concept-?”

what you don’t expect is him to lean a little too close to comfort over you and your desk to reach the computer. even more, you don’t expect his hand to cover yours over the mouse as he clicks a few things.

all you do is hold your breath but you can still smell him faintly, a comforting and familiar scent. your eyes almost flutter shut.

suppressed feelings are coming back. coming back to haunt you for good.

it does indeed feel a little too good to be true. you feel so giddy around riki, like a high schooler experiencing their first love. but you never got to.

it felt like you were getting to reexperience your teenage years properly with riki—how it should’ve gone. but it’s a little different. it feels a little too different. you want to blame it on the fact that you guys are older and you overthink things, but the feelings and emotions inside you say otherwise.

v. the thin line between love and hate.

you startle at the sudden coffee placed in front of you, by a bashful riki.

“hm? what’s this for?”

he scratches the back of his head, “you’ve been working so hard lately, too much for an intern. i don’t want to be known as the guy who overworks the newbies.”

the warming of your heart falls flat.

“ha ha ha,” you laugh dryly. “thank you though.”

before he leaves you to continue your work, he adds, “don’t forget to eat too. i brought some lunch for you in the fridge.”

you don’t fight off the dumb smile on your face when you open the community fridge to see a packaged lunch with a sticky note on top reading,

y/n’s only!! no touching!! (please and thank you)

in someone’s very familiar handwriting that hadn’t changed at all since middle school.

still, you don’t know how you haven’t gotten fired yet. you tried your best to maintain a professional relationship at work, yet the amount of jokes and ridiculous faces riki made was going to be the death of you.

he manages to get a choked sound out of you as you put your head down in an attempt to hold back your laughter. he only looks on proudly when you try your best to chide him.

“focus, riki!”

“how can i focus when his feet smell from across the roo-“

you place a finger over his soft lips, eyes raising from them to his innocent (yet deadly) looking gaze.

“stop disturbing the others!” you scold.

“i think you should tell his feet that.”

you stare at each other blankly for a second or two, your eyes flicking to the man’s shoes across the room, before you both can’t help but bursting into a silent fit of laughter.

meanwhile everyone else looks on, confused but starting to get used to the two of you at this point.

as riki admires your face full of glee, he thinks there couldn’t have been anything better.

maybe he should’ve known the universe wouldn’t let him off that easy.

you’re on the way home from work when you receive a message from riki. he asks for you to stop by the store to grab him ice cream, and you roll your eyes.

you already knew what that meant. anime night at riki’s place although his deadline was the next day.

when he sends the begging emojis, you sigh and change routes to the nearest mart. you couldn’t resist him, even if you wanted to.

you’re browsing the aisles, adding more and more snacks that you really didn’t need but you knew would make riki (and by default—you) happy.

as you reach for the bungeobbang snack, you don’t notice the hand that grabs it at the same time. a shock courses through you for a split second, and you pull your hand back.

“sorry…”

you glance at the figure. and you cock your head.

a distinct pair of eyes blink back at you.

wait a second…

“no way. yang jungwon?”

his mouth drops open. “y/n? it’s been years!”

you nod, almost laughing at the complete turn of events. “i can’t believe it either. what are you doing here?”

it turns out jungwon was in town for work, as per a client's request. he had also grown up a lot and changed much more than you expected.

he was still the same, handsome and charming jungwon. but he had definitely matured and you found yourself enjoying the catching-up talk with him. to the point where you lost track of time.

only was it until you see riki’s name light up your phone do you remember. you scramble to get your things (and probably melted ice cream).

“sorry jungwon, i have to get going.”

he gets up to help you gather your things. you can’t help but notice the warmth of his hand lingering on yours when he passes you the last grocery bag.

“it was really nice to see you again. do you maybe want to keep in touch?”

you only nod at his hopeful eyes. “of course! we can exchange numbers and meet up again while you’re still here.”

feeling strangely light on your way to riki’s place, the guilt hits you when you are greeted by riki’s worried face.

“what took so long?”

you think about jungwon and cringe internally. you don’t think you have the heart to tell riki. not today.

-Is what you keep telling yourself. days, and days after that first encounter. you just don’t know how to bring it up to riki, or when. after everything that happened,

you don’t think you can’t risk it. not when you just got your riki back.

you’re surprised at how often jungwon texts you. maybe he was still the same jungwon after all, still wanting to hang out with you all the time like back in the old days.

but this time, you had no reason to object. again, guilt washes over you as you respond to his text before looking over at a focused riki.

just once wouldn’t hurt, you manage to convince yourself.

it’s not like riki would care that much anyways. the past was the past and things were different now. why would he care if you hung out with another guy?

it’s not like he liked you… right?

you repeat that to yourself everyday. everyday that riki greets you with that adoring face of his. everyday that he teases you, makes you laugh, and helps you through all the hard times.

even the day that you thought he was going to kiss you. when he reached over you to grab the remote, but he didn’t go back to his spot. he stayed hovering over you, faces inches apart.

and he stared at you, into you, with those eyes that he always looked at you with.

yet riki didn’t do anything. he didn’t make a single move, so that means it should be fine if you met jungwon just this once?

even so, you get off work early, rushing to get home and prepare. you brush off riki’s reminder of him stopping by your house later to return your jacket he borrowed. how it fit him, you still don’t know.

even more you don’t know is why you feel pressured to dress up nice and prepare, just to see jungwon. it was just a simple catch up with him. it wasn’t like you were going to keep seeing him after that. it wasn’t a date of any sort…

jungwon pulls out the chair and you awkwardly sit down and thank him.

ok so maybe you should have dated in high school, just so you wouldn’t have been so clueless now.

it wasn’t a date. you know it wasn’t. and you keep repeating it to yourself.

maybe jungwon notices your stiffness, because he compliments your outfit.

“you look really nice.”

“thanks,” you smile, “so do you.”

“i didn’t know what places were good in this area, but i liked this cafe so i thought it would be a good place for us to talk!”

you’ve always admired jungwon’s thoughtfulness. or rather, been jealous. there was only one other person who could compete with him on that: nishimura riki.

again, time passes you as you spend the night with him. it’s quite dark out when you realize you should get going.

jungwon being ever the gentleman offers to walk you home. he also lends you his jacket, which you have no choice but to accept both his offers. it would end on an awkward note if you rejected him—which you didn’t want—so you decide to bear with it just this once.

jungwon was simply a cool and fun person to hang out with anyway, so you had no complaints. you trusted him naturally.

it was all fine until you reached the outside of your apartment.

you certainly weren’t expecting to see riki waiting outside your door, looking visibly and obviously upset. your feet come to a halt.

you completely forgot.

jungwon grabs your arm suddenly. “is that niki?”

you see the expression on riki’s face visibly change, and you rush to explain yourself.

“riki, please let me-“

ignoring jungwon, the coldness emanating from riki physically makes you shiver.

“we need to talk.”

you bite your lip.

“jungwon, i… think you should go.”

he complies when you ask once more, but not without a concerned request to contact him later.

even with jungwon gone, riki still looks like he’s about to get attacked, threatened and rigid.

you call out his name quietly, “can we at least go inside first?”

you reach for his hand but he pulls away before heading in. fair, you think.

“-i’m sorry i didn’t tell you earlier, but it was a sudden decision.”

“i still don’t get why you didn’t tell me,” he snaps.

you don’t like the way this is heading. and you both know where it was going to go. “it was just one small hangout, we were only catching up,” you frown.

“but you know how i feel about him! you should have told me-“

you feel your anger rise as well as you get to your feet.

“do i have an obligation to tell you? why is a fight that happened over ten years ago still such a big deal? what’s your issue with jungwon?”

you cross your arms, facing an agitated riki.

“nevermind that. why can’t you just tell me what happened back then?!”

the silence, accompanied by the sound of your mixed heavy breaths, leave you weary. you pinch the space between your eyebrows.

“riki-“ you reach out for him but he pulls away. he’s doing it once again.

it hurts more than you thought. “fine. if you’re not going to say anything, then i think you should just leave.”

and you don’t object when he listens to your suggestion, without a second glance back.

it felt like deja vu, seeing him leave just as he did before.

it’s been days since you last talked to riki, let alone spared a glance in his direction. work was awkward enough, just like it had been the first week you came.

how could your relationship turn back to strangers so suddenly? did riki not care?

if anything, he cared too much—but you would have never known.

it’s hard to work next to him, be near him without the unspoken feelings rising up. a hand brushing his when he passed you papers almost felt like it was burning you. riki noticed how you would flinch away, every time.

it didn’t matter. your internship was coming to an end, and you were already preparing yourself to leave.

maybe this was just a sign from the universe telling you that you and riki were meant to be apart. that you weren’t meant to be together after all.

you loved the area, company, office environment and just about everything else. it should’ve been perfect.

but you don’t know if you can stand working here, staying here and living here,

knowing that riki is right around the corner, carrying your heart without a second thought.

the power that he holds, the fact that he’s able to break your heart in the matter of seconds or make you smile like the happiest person in the world, it’s just too scary for you to handle.

you’re already planning to head back home and stay with your parents for a little until you get things figured out again.

you still had tickets to a small festival at the nearby plaza that you planned to go with riki, but that certainly wasn’t happening anymore.

you didn’t want the second ticket to go to waste, so in your lostness and desperation (and several rejections by coworkers), you asked jungwon. you were leaving soon and didn’t know when the next time you would see him was.

you greet him with a halfhearted smile, and he gestures for you guys to get closer to the stage to get a better view. but there’s a big crowd, and you stumble over an arm or leg or something.

for some reason, you expect him to be there and help you up. like someone else did in a strangely familiar situation.

but there’s no one. nothing except the crowd of bodies that’s starting to get a little too overwhelming.

for the first time, you wish to the universe for one thing. you wish you had riki again, with you by your side.

it’s then you realize you’ve been thinking about him the whole time. he who’s been the one always to pick you back up. he was always there for you.

you know, you need to do something before you leave. you can’t handle leaving things like this.

you plan to, however, the next day is the last day of your internship and some of the kind workers surprised the interns with a small going away party. it’s bittersweet, especially when everyone assumes you’re getting hired for an official position due to your exceptional work, and another person.

you were grateful for everyone who planned and showed up. but there was one person who didn’t that you kept looking for. everyone knows who, but no one knows why.

at the end of the day, you make your way back to riki’s office in order to pack up your stuff.

you take one last glance around the room and all of its memories. leaving this place felt like leaving riki behind as well.

you were grateful that you got the chance to see him once more. you were beginning to accept that this was the end.

putting all your stuff in boxes, you frown while wondering where your compartment desk key was. maybe riki mistakenly took yours instead of his?

you open various drawers, rummaging around. but when you get to the bottommost drawer, your heart stops.

it’s only a plain cream folder, but what’s written on it takes your breath away.

just your name.

photos and photos of you, beautifully crafted and arranged together. it’s riki’s work, you know that for sure. memories spanning your entire internship—from the first day to the last time you talked to him.

you don’t know when and how he took these photos. or when tears fell down your cheeks.

you hastily rub the wetness away, sniffling as you close the folder and continue your search. now wasn’t the time to get sentimental.

it would be alright, because you planned on finding riki the next day before you left. it was too late today, and you needed to finish packing. you just wanted one last chance to say everything you wanted to before going.

you have to because you feel it deep within, tugging at your heartstrings.

it’s about 1am when you finish packing. you don’t even want to think about the time you need to get up, nor the fact that you still had to find a way to see riki.

you zip up the last luggage when the doorbell rings. who in the world would be at your door this late? you consider grabbing some sort of weapon, but decide against it for the time being.

you nervously peek through the peephole, before throwing the door open.

“r-riki?”

you’re more shocked that he was crying than him even showing up at your place.

riki almost lunges forward, trapping you in his arms. he hiccups and you feel a pang in your chest.

“y/n- please- just please, will you forgive me?”

“what?” you breathe out. you couldn’t even process the situation.

“please. never leave me.”

“what? why would i ever?” you comfortingly bring a hand to rub his back. it takes a little bit to soothe him, and he speaks again when you feel his erratic breathing has calmed and his body relaxes.

“i’m so scared to lose you again,” he whispers shakily. you soften, pulling back to see his red eyes and nose.

“riki, please tell me what’s going on.” he knows immediately what you mean.

you reach up to wipe the corners of his eyes and the side of his face gently. he closes his eyes at the feeling, to go back into time.

honestly, he remembers that day as if it was just yesterday. it was a day that haunted him up until now.

riki always knew then. maybe you weren’t aware but he definitely was.

yang jungwon liked you. it was obvious.

riki could see it—physically too. that cursed red string mocked him everyday he saw you two in class.

riki knew jungwon could feel it too. you were too close to riki and everyone knew that. jungwon knew, and he didn’t care.

it was raining, as riki recalled many times over and over again. he was alone while waiting for you to finish class. riki was alone until jungwon and his group of friends approached him.

jungwon knew about his power. he said his father worked for the government, worked with riki. riki suddenly thought of one of the head scientists and his eyes, strikingly similar to jungwon’s.

so that was his father, he remembers thinking.

riki never liked him.

regardless, jungwon asked if riki could see your string. just like the others. riki chooses not to answer as always, but jungwon naturally got on his nerves.

riki remembers the exact words.

“if you two aren’t dating, does that mean you aren’t soulmates? you would’ve asked y/n out already if you were, am i right?”

at that, riki’s blood began to boil. but he couldn’t do anything. mainly because jungwon was right. and it infuriated riki.

jungwon laughed. “then… i can ask y/n out? since you guys aren’t soulmates?”

riki doesn’t remember the next part. maybe he blacked out or chose to erase it from his memory. but apparently, he punched jungwon. he snapped for the first time.

riki opens his eyes again slowly, seeing your heartfelt gaze on him and him only.

he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice when he speaks. it sounded too quiet. too defeated. like he was already accepting his loss.

”you’re jungwon’s soulmate. not mine.”

he glances down at your pinky. it had been a while since he saw your red string, let alone anyone else’s.

“no matter how much i wished your red string was connected to mine, it wasn’t.”

at some point, riki assumed his string had no other person it was attached to, because he had never met anyone who made him feel like how you did. no one else made him as happy, as sad, or as loved as you did.

riki knew if he had a soulmate, it would have been you and only you.

“i-i was upset when you saw jungwon again that you would fall in love with him. and leave me.”

it was a lot to process. you know and he knows. it wasn’t what you were expecting, but you were fine with that.

when you call out his name, your hands reach to the sides of his face to guide them to look at you. you take a deep breath.

“i’ve always loved you.”

and exhale.

“jungwon was never on my mind, only you’ve been. even after all this time-”

abruptly, riki reached forward to kiss you harshly and you instantly reciprocate it. your hands tighten around his neck while his come to wrap around your waist, naturally.

you just can’t seem to let each other go.

you ask jungwon to meet up with one last time before he leaves, at the same cafe he suggested last time.

you comment on the nice weather and he agrees. you fiddle with your fingers.

“this is a bit random, but do you believe in soulmates?”

jungwon looks confused but he says, “yeah. from what i’ve heard, i think so?”

your eyes narrow. “even if two people are soulmates, do you think they can love different people?”

“y/n, where is this-“

“answer the question and i’ll explain. i promise.”

he scratches his head, “i… i suppose so?”

“and if two people aren’t soulmates, do you think that they can love each other?” you continue.

“sure. but i don’t get why you’re asking-“

ignoring him, you nod thoughtfully. “okay.”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand.

“i just wanted to say it was nice seeing you again.”

he looks a bit surprised.

“me too. i enjoyed the time we spent together. i know that i’m leaving soon and this is a bit sudden, but do you want to see each other again-?”

you sigh, looking out the window again.

“i’m sorry, but i don’t think that’s possible. i hope the rest of your life goes well as you want it to, yang jungwon.”

he nods solemnly. “it’s because you’re with niki, right?” he smiles at your shocked expression. “i figured since he was outside your place. no harm in shooting my shot. but wow, you guys really found each other again.”

you don’t know what to say so you just nod.

“tell him that i’m sorry for what i said in the past and that i wish him the best too.” he gets up from his chair, prompting you too as well.

“we can still be friends, of course,” you rush to add.

jungwon laughs, “it’s alright. i should get over you first before considering a friendship.”

“maybe in another life. we get along too well,” you joke. he laughs too and you know it’s not forced.

“come on, i’ll walk you home.”

you stare at jungwon’s side profile during the walk, as he speaks about random topics and leads the way back.

it’s strange, imagining him as your soulmate. it was weird imagining a life with anyone else but riki. although yang jungwon may be your soulmate, he’s not the one that you want. that’s okay.

when he drops you off, riki opens the door. you’re hesitant, but you see the two give a final nod to each other. jungwon leaves without a glance back, and riki closes the door.

“how was it?”

you lean in to peck his lips. “good. better than i expected, to be honest. now can we start the movie? i was waiting for this all day.”

riki smiles as you take off your shoes and get ready for a night in with him. he glances at your matching gold chain bracelets that he bought recently, a promise for the future. just as riki wanted.

riki doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the future. all he knows is that he’ll be with you forever, red string or not.

that night, he realized he couldn’t give up on you. not again. he would fight like he did before and choose his own destiny.

because the only destiny he had was one with you.

nishimura riki couldn’t see the end of his string. he probably never would. and he didn’t want to. it didn’t matter, after all. now, he looks back at your hands and imagines a perfect little knot in the middle connecting both your red strings.

and he smiles.

hi it’s jae again—thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it as i put a lot of work and effort into it (my longest one shot so far skxnksdnj so pls excuse mistakes/typos if i missed some) actually it hurt to write won as the “bad guy” but i couldn’t think of anyone else close enough to fit the role lol. anyways that’s all, just wanted to say that i’m thankful for all the love, comments, rbs, and support i receive as it keeps me going to write more. i truly do appreciate all 1.2k and more followers, see you guys again in the next works coming soon ;)

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#enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypenwriters #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki fluff #niki scenarios #niki imagines #niki #enhypen niki

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chloeangelic · 6 months

Text

the paper salesman

Brother's best friend!Jim Halpert x f!reader Rating: 18+ My masterlist I Max's masterlist

Summary: You spot your childhood crush at a birthday party and end up in his room together.

Warnings: Smut, AU where Pam does not exist, alcohol, oral (f receiving), handjob, semi protected PIV, creampie, squirting.

A/N: Well, well, well, if it isn't me and my froggy friend @macfrog back with another fic. But this time, it's not satire - this one is actually serious, and we are taking full advantage of everyone's teenage crush on season 2 Jim.

Word count: 6k

You pick at the edge of your wine glass, nodding along as the sound of your brother’s girlfriend talking about work turns into a low, buzzing sort of hum, indistinguishable from the other voices in the room. It seems that turning thirty was the catalyzing event for your older brother’s birthday parties to turn from all-nighters at clubs to barbecues at his new house. The attendance changed too — what used to be a crowd of girls in tight, short dresses has been replaced by a landscape of coworkers and childhood friends that he has reconnected with over the past year.

There’s a couple people singing karaoke by the TV across the room, and although neither of them are singing in tune, you cheer them on as you half-heartedly listen to your future sister-in-law’s story. People are scattered around in groups of two, three, or four, chatting amongst themselves against the tapestry of multicolored string lights and framed photos. You can’t imagine your brother had much to do with the interior design choices, and assume Stacie took him to the department store and filled a shopping cart with lights and lamps and frames that would make the living space for two thirty-year-old men a little less bland and sterile.

But still, despite the obvious decorative touch of Mark’s girlfriend around the room – you can’t help but wonder which parts were chosen by his roommate.

Jim Halpert – your brother’s best friend for as long as you can remember. Six-foot-something, polite and awkwardly charming. Lingering on your front steps to walk with Mark to school, backpack slung over one shoulder, or waiting patiently in the kitchen doorway while your brother finishes eating dinner, a basketball sat in the ‘c’ of his elbow. Making a whole lot of nothing conversation with your mom about school, about how his brothers were doing, growing bashful when she’d bring up girlfriends.

He’s five years older than you, but that ten-year-old ghost of yourself would sit twirling the fork in her fingers, mindlessly dragging mashed potato around her plate. Watching the way he’d toss the flicks of fringe from his eyes, cross one foot over the other as he answered every incessant question of your mother’s with the dutiful respect of a well-raised boy. Your crush was obvious back then, easily spotted by her whenever Jim stayed for dinner. You’d look away, bite back your smile and try to stifle your laugh at his jokes, hoping he wouldn’t notice. That little crush stayed with you, despite the boys you went on to date in high school, and the ones you slept with and tried to get serious with in college to no avail. Every time you came back from the holidays, Jim would inevitably show up for dinner one day, and you would revert back to that shy ten-year-old, sitting in the same seats as you did back then.

You watched him become a man in front of your eyes, and by the time you started getting physical with your first boyfriend, little thoughts began to weasel themselves into your mind about Jim. It was entirely inappropriate, and that curiosity should have directed itself exclusively to the boy who had taken you out to the movies, to prom and to homecoming, but you wondered what Jim looked like shirtless, you wondered about his experience, about the size of his cock. One weekend in your freshman year of college, with nothing else to do but to visit your parents, you tagged along with Mark to his basketball game, and sat on the bleachers with your eyes glued to Jim, to the sweat that darkened his jersey and the undeniable bulge in his shorts. He came up to say hi after, his brown hair drenched with sweat as well, looking at you through stunning green eyes as he asked how school was going. You made him laugh with a story about a professor, and the sound of his chuckles echoed in your mind the rest of the night. He had moved out of his parents’ house by then, and started working as a salesman at a paper company in town.

He still works there – as far as you know, at least, based on what he told you the last time you saw him, picking him and Mark up from their high school reunion two years back.

Mark had drank a little too much and had needed Jim’s steady arm around his shoulder to direct him to your car. You swallowed down the butterflies which quickly took flight in your stomach as you watched the two figures stumble towards your Honda, the taller of the two lending you a small smile as he slotted your brother into the front seat. You kept your composure right up until he closed the front door, and then you sped all the way home with your heart racing and your blood pumping.

“Some people are just allergic to receiving help,” Stacie announces, yelling a little over the screeching of the karaoke mics. She’s rambling to one of Mark’s coworkers – Hal? Sal? – about one of her co-workers, some new kid fresh from college who can’t work the printer by himself and refuses to let her show him.

You’re about to get up for a refill when a weight slides onto the couch by your side, nudging you with a sweatered elbow.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he mutters, and when you turn, your breath catches at the sight of those familiar green eyes and flicks of brown hair.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers awkwardly lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear. You feel a heat flush into your cheeks and pray it doesn’t show in an embarrassing dewy glow to Jim. “Cool party. Karaoke’s a nice touch.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, giving you his signature smirk. His voice is so deep, a little husky even, as he sits close, “It’s an easy way to keep the guests entertained without me having to do much of anything, or your brother, for that matter.”

You hum in response, reluctantly annoyed that Mark is already at the front of his mind when he sees you. “Are you still working that paper job?”, you ask, raising an eyebrow and hoping that your nerves don’t come across, that he’ll simply consider you as flirty to everyone if your attempts don’t land.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, picking at the label of his beer bottle for a moment.

“Salesman of the year?”

“Well,” he chuckles, his head tilting to the side, a little unsure, “Maybe sometimes.” Is he embarrassed? Shy? You watch his eyes as they flicker up and scan the room. “What are you up to these days?”, he asks when his eyes land back on you, flaring open for a split second before they settle on yours.

“You know,” you shrug, eyes looping once around the room, “Working, the usual.” You feel your chest tighten with an urge to come up with something more fucking interesting than work. Your fingers hooked behind your ear again, you sputter, “Got my hair done last week.”

Jim smiles, reassuringly so. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, “I can tell. It looks good. I like the, uh –”, he points a little haphazardly, “The way you styled it. Suits you.”

“Thanks,” your cheeks swell in a genuine smile, averting his gaze as the compliment seeps into your skin. You twirl the stem of your glass in your fingers, and Jim knocks a knuckle against the rim.

“You need a top up?”, he asks, standing up.

“Yeah, actually,” you reply, taking his hand when he offers it and pulling yourself to your feet.

You follow him through to the kitchen, dodging the erratic arm movements of some guy chittering to Mark about stocks, and over to the fridge. You lean your hip against the counter, watching as Jim carefully refills your wine and slides it back across to you.

You take a tentative sip under his watchful gaze, and raise your eyebrows, nodding subtly in approval as you swallow, “This is pretty good. What’s a guy like you doing with decent wine in his fridge?”

He lets out a nervous laugh and looks around, takes a sip of the glass he poured himself. “I actually got it for a, uh- a date, a couple weeks ago,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks, looking out through the dining room, “She said it was good so I figured I’d get some for tonight.”

Oof. A tinge of jealousy makes your stomach curl, and you take another large sip, forcing it down as you think of what to say. You can still hear the out of tune melodies from the living room, though the silence between you and Jim drowns out the noise. “What did you do?”, you ask, hoping you can mask your jealousy with a sneaky tone.

“Took her to dinner a few times, walked around a bit, came back here and had some wine.”

You want to gag, just a little bit. “And how come she’s not here tonight then?”

“Didn’t really, uh– didn’t really work out, so…”

“So you’re just sitting here day in and day out with her wine in the fridge, waiting for her to come back?”

Jim breathes a laugh, pushing the air from his cheeks, “Alright. Wow. That one stung.”

You giggle, taking a step closer, “I’m just messing with you,” you say into your glass. Each splash of alcohol over your tongue filling you with more courage.

He tilts his head, eyebrows cocked, “Tell me about your love life, then, up on your high horse.”

You stifle another girlish giggle, using it to mask your reaction to the awkward question. Your love life – if you could even call it that – has been even more miserable than Jim’s sounds. Messages left on read, painful first dates with jocks still stuck in their high school eras, with uptight career men who only cared to talk about themselves, or with guys who had weird hobbies and left you to pay the bill for a date they asked you on.

You’ve gotten good at avoiding the topic with your mom, turning it instead into conversation about Mark and Stacie, framing it into a question of, When are they thinking of getting married? Having kids of their own, right, Mom?, but standing in front of the one guy you’ve been shamelessly crushing on since you were ten years old – it becomes a little harder to divert.

“Uh,” you mumble, the rim of your glass balanced on your bottom lip, “I’m – I’m just taking some time to myself right now, you know? Focusing on me.”

He grins, almost gleeful. Electricity pulses through your veins. “Nice save,” he tells you, tipping his glass towards you, “I hear what you’re really saying.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” he says, matter-of-factly, “You also got dumped at Red Lobster.”

You snort, then apologize, closing your eyes and trying to stifle your grin as you try to collect yourself. “Red lobster,” you clear your throat, “That’s pretty bad. At least it wasn’t Chili’s. And I would know, cause I got dumped at Chili’s.”

The two of you keep it together for a few moments, looking at the floor, until you meet each other’s eyes and burst into laughter, having this absolutely pathetic little thing in common. The sound of his laugh makes your chest flutter, the sight of his smile and his hand running through his hair. He wipes the tears from his eyes as he looks at you, and you bite the tip of your tongue, trying to halt the uncontrollable giggles that make your stomach hurt.

When you’re composed, a couple more swigs of wine down your throat, you settle back against the counter and say, “So. When’s the tour leaving?”

Jim’s eyebrows lift, “The tour?”

You nod, “House tour. Mark hasn’t shown me around yet. The most I’ve seen is your downstairs bathroom.”

He scoffs. Pushes off from the counter, the wine in his glass splashing, “He’s a terrible host. C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

Your heels click along the tile floor as you squeeze between bodies, heading for the hallway where Jim pauses. “Bathroom,” he says, nodding to the door right by the stairs, “But you already knew that.” He steps back against the wall at the first step, holding a hand out to usher you up first. “Ladies first,” he says, smiling genially.

You snort, but waltz by his body, holding onto the handrail as you climb the stairs carefully, the alcohol mixed with your shoe choice making it a dangerous feat. Jim’s close behind, footsteps slowly echoing your own, and you can’t help but think of the tight, short skirt of your dress, the way it hugs your thighs, the placement of his gaze as he wanders up behind you.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you look around at the assortment of doors, waiting for Jim to tell you which room serves as the first stop. You can sense him right behind you, slightly to your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him looking down at you, swallowing slowly. “Mark’s room,” he says, nodding to the right and waiting until you look up at him before he takes a step over and opens the door. He lets you peek inside, look around until you nod and step back, before he urges you forward, towards another door.

“Upstairs bathroom,” he remarks, and you give the room a similar examination, noticing the streak-free mirror.

“Looks… clean,” you say, as if there’s anything better to say about a typical bathroom. He gives a muttered thanks in return, then points to the last door.

“And that’s my room.”

“May I?”, you grin, then step fully inside, looking around at his bed, his dresser, and finally, his desk. You sit down in the office chair and give it a test spin, before your attention is caught by the art on the wall. “What’s this?”, you ask, while he steps in as well, hesitating for a second as he looks at the door, opting to leave it open before he comes over and sits down on his bed.

Jim’s head wobbles as he searches for an answer. “It’s – well, it’s – you know. It’s…a print that I…liked.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Not a clue,” he responds, quick as a bullet. “I saw it at a yard sale – thought it went with the colors of my bedsheets. That’s how interior design works, right?”

You smile, “Sure. You’re no Stacie, but – sure.”

Jim nods. Your eye is drawn to the dip in the bed where he sits, the weight of his wide frame on the mattress. His open thighs, his elbows resting on his knees, wine swirling as he slowly rocks the glass. He slowly lifts it to his lips, taking a sip without breaking your stare.

You cross your legs by instinct. Your skirt rides a little higher. Jim glances down, and then straight back up. You can feel your blood thrumming through every limb, every part of your body sensitized and alight. It doesn’t help any when he stands from the bed and wanders over, towering over you as he looks at something on the desk.

He reaches over your shoulder, and you can smell his cologne on his sweater, sharp and fresh, a hint of something sweeter. He pulls a photo frame from the shelf behind you and turns it around.

“Graduation,” he says, and your eyes are drawn down to the cheesy grins of him and your brother, donned in black mortarboards and sweeping gowns.

You nod, pretending you’re paying attention. But he’s so close that his jeans rub against your bare legs, so close that you’re staring up just to meet his eye. Your palms begin to perspire, his voice turning into a blur as he points to a couple other frames, photos of people you didn’t recognize in places you couldn’t quite place. The rest of your wine is downed in a single sip, the glass carefully placed behind you, on the surface of his desk.

Jim seems to have finished recounting memories to you, but he doesn’t move. Stays stood over you, his own drink forgotten on the floor by his bed. A silence falls between you – but not the thick, awkward kind of silence you’re used to around guys. It’s lighter, it’s breathable. It swirls around your limbs like the fluttering feeling in your belly, wraps tightly around them and pushes you to your feet, the back of Jim’s chair rocking against his desk.

You’re eye-to-eye, your chest pushing gently against his. He glances down to your lips, wet with wine and the dabbing of your tongue, and then back up. He leans in, curving around your shoulders to set the photo frame still in his hand back on the desk. When he straightens up again, your hands find his chest.

You stare at one another, seemingly a thousand words exchanged between your soft, drunken gaze and his – and yet, none of them pass your lips. There’s a weight on your waist – Jim’s hands either side of your body, squeezing the tight fabric of your dress. You tilt your head, moving closer, lips parting. And he leans in.

He kisses you, slow at first. Your hands lift to cup his jaw, steady yourself on the weight of him. All of your past selves begin to bubble to the surface, each one lighting your skin, pulling on every nerve. Jim feels warm, his lips wet and sweet from the alcohol. Your nails sift through his hair, tugging gently as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. He groans lightly, seemingly as hungry for you as you are for him, holding himself back, handling you with a care and gentleness you hope he might set aside. You’ve wanted him for so long and you’ll let him do anything, you want all of him, you want him to ravage you and fuck you until you stumble down the staircase and until you can never look your brother in the eyes.

There’s a smashing sound from downstairs and a squeal, followed by a chorus of disappointment from the other guests. It splits the two of you apart, bumping teeth as your lips disconnect. You’re both panting, hot breath occupying the space between you. You can feel the hardness of his bulge pushing against you, and your arousal building, spreading to the tips of your breasts as your nipples harden. He’s huge, you can already tell, and you swallow around a lump in your throat, trying not to think of how long it’s been since you felt a man inside of you.

Jim smiles, still holding you close to his body. Your hands wrap around his wrists, and you lean into him again to whisper, “I think we should close the door.”

He nods, and steps back to let you by. You close the door slowly, letting it thud into place as quiet as you can, despite the obvious chaos happening downstairs. When you step back towards him, his eyes are on yours, hands reaching out to pull you closer, one around your waist and one around the nape of your neck, letting you melt into his hold while he locks his lips with yours. You hope he can’t feel the rapid beating of your heart or the dampness of your skin, letting your hands fall to the edge of his pants and starting to fumble with the button.

You start to unzip his jeans while he walks you back towards his bed, licking into your mouth and nibbling on your lower lip. You slip a hand down over his clothed cock, carefully palming it and feeling the girth and contours against your skin. He lets out a slight grunt at your touch, moving his hand down to squeeze your ass cheek through your dress, his large hand grabbing your flesh and kneading it with the aggression you’ve been hoping for, just a hint of it coming through in the firmness of his grasp.

He reaches the bed as you draw your hand out of his pants and dip your fingers behind his waistband, feeling the goosebumps spreading across his skin, grabbing hold of the stretchy fabric and lifting it up, over his erection, pulling it down alongside his pants to see his cock hanging free, flushed and wet at the tip. You bite his lip before you pull back to look, and can’t help a whimper escaping your throat as you brush your fingertips along his length. It feels endless, long veins bulging out that you trace with your nails. He's so thick, wide at the root, all the way to the tip. He can't possibly fit inside but you clench at the thought of him trying. Another pearly bead of precome spills out from his slit at your touch, and with his hands still grasping your neck and the meat of your ass, you gently rub the pad of your thumb over this head, feeling the slick slide of his spend beneath your finger, then wrap your hand around him, fingertips not even close to meeting, and stroke him slowly.

Your breaths are shallow, rapid, and when you feel your mouth start to water at the sight of his cock sliding through your hand, Jim pulls you back in to kiss you, grunting and groaning while your hand slides rhythmically up and down, making him throb with arousal. He moves his hips, fucking into your grasp with hushed moans that send your head spinning, your cunt pulsing.

Jim begins to peel the dress from your shoulders, slipping the fabric down until your breasts are exposed, the chilly edge of the air hardening your nipple. He pauses, watches the rhythmic movements of your soft, supple tits as your hand pumps up and down, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. His fingers dig deep beneath the ruffled fabric, tugging it lower and lower until he’s lifting your hips, disturbing the lace of your panties as he discards the dress to the floor.

You pause as he strips the sweater from his shoulders, tossing it to some corner of the room before he’s back on you, the slick tip of his dick leaving sticky trails on your lower stomach.

“You’re so, so good at that,” he murmurs against your lips, sentence broken in two by another hot, wet kiss. Your eyes roll at the taste of him, the strength of his tongue against yours, the hunger with which he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, letting it go only to fill your mouth with himself again. You push at the edge of his jeans and boxers, bunching them up in your hands and tugging at them until he takes over, bringing you with him while he takes them off, leaving him bare and you in only your little scrap of fabric you call your panties.

He pulls you in as he sits down on the bed, placing you on his lap, letting you wind your hips, dragging the silky lace of your thong up along his hard length while you lick across his tongue, while you swallow his saliva and feel the ridges of his cock bumping against your clit. At the sound of your whimpers, he picks you up in his arms, lays you down on his bed, and settles between your legs, leaving wet kisses up and down your neck, trailing down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and licking it slowly. Your back arches, the slick of your arousal beginning to seep out into the panties he teases with his fingers, hooking them under the thin straps and slowly pulling at them as his lips trail down between your tits, slowly over your stomach, reaching the very top of your mound before he drags the straps over your thighs to reveal you for him.

You open your legs and Jim presses into the underside of your thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes focus on the sight of you, spread open in front of him, his tongue lifting to run along his lips. You sit up on your elbows, glossy eyes watching as he leans in, a trail of kisses dotted along the seam of your thigh, until his lips are hovering over your throbbing cunt.

“Jim,” you whisper, sifting your fingers through his hair, moving it from his face.

He looks up and you share a glance, a message sent wordlessly from your eyes to his. A smirk pulls across his lips, reading your mind instantly. He lowers his jaw and his tongue drags a long, soaking stripe up your slit.

Your grip tightens in his hair, head thrown back to the blue sheets. Your throat catches a lewd moan before it has a chance to cut through the air, exposing you both to the guests downstairs. Sorry, you whisper, but he shakes his head. “You don't have to be quiet,” he reassures, leaving his gaze on you as he leans back and gives your clit a few wet licks, kicking up your sensitivity and making you clench. He must be able to tell, because just as you tilt your head back into the pillow while he kisses and licks at the part of you most sensitive and needy for his attention, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, stretching you gently as he curls them. He presses into a spot so tender you can't catch the moans spilling out between your lips, begging for more when you're already so close, having fantasized about this for years – his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside of you, softening you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, so much thicker and longer than you could imagine, big and hard and bound to let you feel him tomorrow.

He begins to suckle, swirling his tongue until you grip his hair and moan that you're close, so close, and he releases you from his mouth, still sliding his fingers slowly in and out, moving to place kisses to the inside of your thigh. You let out a huff, and hear a faint chuckle from between your legs, licking and kissing at your skin, right beside your outer folds, close to where you need him.

Another wave of arousal crashes through you when he makes contact with your clit again, a wet drag of his tongue making you whimper and pull at his hair harder, trying to keep him right where he is until he lets you come. Jim pulls around your clit, lips sucking and tongue flicking as his fingers pump in and out, winding your orgasm like the tide withdrawing, only to let it crash forward in a flood of pleasure.

Your back arches, breath freezes to nothing in your throat until your climax passes, washing over you in heavy, shuddering ripples. You pant, your chest heaving as you look down at the smile on his face, the evidence of your satisfaction glistening on his lips.

Jim pushes himself up from the mattress, knees planting firm between your open legs, fisting his cock over you. You blink the room back into focus slowly, feeling the bed dip by your ear. He settles on top of you, looking down to guide his cock to your needy and spent sex. His tip presses against your hole, sensitive and soaking, and he glances back up.

“Jim?”, you whisper, chest heaving when you feel the subtle intrusion at your opening.

“Yeah?”

“I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me.”

Mhmm, he teases the tip around your entrance, lets the thick head of him slide up to your clit before he glides back down, gently pushing in, a tiny little bit of pressure, not enough to make you wince but groan instead, hating and loving how he teases you. Another push, his tip lodged inside, stretching you open further than you thought possible, while your pussy drools down his shaft, sucking him in and covering him in your wetness. He grunts quietly, not immune to the wet, warm clutch he’s sinking into, inch by inch, while you wrap your hands around his jaw, looking into his bright green eyes, lids hooded, breaking the eye contact to glance down at where he enters you, letting out a breathy moan when you suck him all the way in and he reaches your cervix. He hisses when he retracts, gliding out so slowly, covered in your shiny slick.

You arch your back when he reaches the end of you again, leaning down onto his elbows so his lips can press into your neck, kissing you like he has all the time in the world, little licks to your skin while he glides out and presses back into you, letting you adjust to his size, making space for himself and soothing you as you’re overwhelmed by him. Your legs come to wrap around his waist, tilting your hips slightly upward to let him reach deeper, moaning his name and incoherent curses, grabbing the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, feeling your clit rub against his pelvis, bringing you closer so slowly you barely notice it happening.

You lower your arms, slipping your hands under his and lacing your fingers. Your knees bend, resting against his ribcage. With each brush of his hair against your clit, he moves faster, thrusting harder, pushing deeper. Tiny yelps leave your mouth the more he fucks you, the more the bed rocks, the headboard knocking against the wall. Your head turns, moaning delicately into his ear as he sucks on your skin.

“I know,” he whispers against your pulse, “You feel so good, sweetheart. So tight around me.”

“Jim,” you’re whining, gasping for air each time he pushes all the way in. You let go of your grip on him and drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers toying with his hair, slowly dampening with sweat. Each glide of his cock inside you ends with a sweet bite of pain, his tip hammering roughly into the edge of your cunt.

His teeth graze the sensitive skin below your jaw, leaving behind marks you’re silently hoping will still be visible in the morning. His hands travel downward, taking hold of your waist and lifting you up to his body like you weigh nothing at all.

“Here,” he says, slipping out of you, thick white thread dribbling between your pussy and his cock. He motions for you to sit up, beckoning you with a flick of his fingers. “Come here, put your feet on my calves.” You oblige, planting each foot behind his thighs as he kneels. “Now lay down, just relax,” he coos, wrapping both hands around your waist to pull you up into a bridge, letting you dip your shoulder blades onto the sheets. He lifts one hand away from your side and guides his cock back into you, giving a few slow strokes with his palm, pushing gently on your stomach.

Then his hands grip your hips tightly, he pulls you back onto him and gives you a moment to stabilize before he fucks into you even deeper than before. Your tits slide up and down your chest with every single one of this deep thrusts, and you watch his eyes as they stay glued to your body, his mouth hanging open, panting, grunting, digging his fingers into your flesh, trying to hold back while you squirm and writhe, moaning and whimpering, not giving a fuck who might hear it, trying to keep his name out of your mouth in case someone needs to use the bathroom next door.

He pounds into you, hitting the softest, most tender spot inside of your body, your head rolls back on his pillow, tiptoeing the line between pain and pleasure, feeling him in your stomach. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck,” the words are forced out of you just as a warm stream of liquid squirts out of you, drenching his groin and making him groan. Your orgasm is so intense you nearly howl, feeling more and more of your arousal dripping down his shaft and spurting onto his pelvis, soaking the sheets beneath you, getting wet and sticky with your come and his sweat, watching his hair stick to his forehead while he continues to fuck you, needing every last drop of your climax.

You’re fucking spent, but he won’t relent quite yet, flipping you over and onto all fours, yanking you back by your hips. He enters you from behind and you groan in satisfaction, needing him right there, just like that, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head. His hand twists in your hair, wrapping it around his palm and tugging at it while he grunts, rough and loud in your ear, nearly drowned out by the lewd smacking of your ass against his hips.

Your hand dips between your legs, fingers rubbing messy circles around your swollen clit, thinking how many times you’ve dreamt of this exact scenario with your fingers buried inside, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm by the mere thought of Jim. And now, feeling him, the tug on your hair, the ache between your legs, the hoarse cries jumping from your throat.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Jim grunts, wet slaps cutting between his words, “Fuck, sweetheart, that feel good?”

“Yes, Jim,” you whine, your hand jerking with each meeting of his hips on your ass. Come dribbles down the seam of your thigh as you feel your second high begin to wind, white heat flooding downwards. “So – fucking – good. Ah, I want you to come inside me.”

“You sure?”, he pants, holding on by a thread.

“Yeah, I – I’m on the pill.”

Jim pulls you upright by the hair, flush against his stomach, and places his hand over yours to rub your clit together. You lean your head back against his shoulder, body freezing as you come for him again. He groans when you pinch around him, movements becoming sloppy.

“Oh – oh, fuck, I’m – I’m coming, I’m coming,” he moans, lips pushing hard into your neck as he twitches and then stills, and you feel the warm spurts of his come deep inside. The two of you groan, strangled and drawn out, collapsing on the bed with his arms around you and his cock softening inside. You listen to the sounds of the party downstairs, the two of you trying to catch your breaths, and he kisses along the back of your shoulder, brushing his thumb back and forth where it rests over your waist.

“What are we gonna tell Mark?”, he asks.

You pause for a beat, then turn your head to him, “We’re telling Mark?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve wanted it, I’ve wanted it. I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I want it to be more than that, so at some point–”.

“More than what?”, you respond, your heartbeat returning to its heightened state earlier in the night.

“More than just sex.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really into you,” he whispers, “I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me but it seems like you do, so–”.

You shift around to face him, push his sweat damp locks away from his face and look into his eyes. Shy heat floods your face as you smile at him and nod carefully, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You wanna go back downstairs?” he asks, fingertips ghosting down your spine before he reaches your thigh and hooks your knee over his leg, “We have Islands in the Stream on the karaoke machine, I know you like that song.”

“Sure… In a bit.”

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert imagine #jim halpert fic #jim halpert fanfic #the office fanfiction #jim halpert

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