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bunnyreaper · 2 months

Text

wc - 4.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), age gap (older male younger female), bodyguard!au, threat of violence.

notes - another visit to dilfville, a new series, because that's all we need, right? lol. hope you enjoy ♥

Friday nights meant one thing: unwinding after a long week of working in your home office, braving the outside world, and heading to the comfy flat belonging to your friend Jules.

While visiting her place was always a blast, Friday nights were for DnD. Leaving behind Earth for its fantasy counterpart and getting lost in the adventures of your group's merry band of do-gooders.

Saturdays are usually spent drinking coffee, frequenting markets, and then rounding the night off with cocktails and dancing. (And Sunday's recuperating from being up on your feet all night, spending the day in bed reading whatever trashy romance novel is next on your reading list.)

Your weekends are your sanctuary—your freedom from routine and work is your refuge.

You dance around your bedroom, rocking your hips to the music as you pull on your clothes—a white blouse and black bustier to channel the vibes of your character Elora.

When the doorbell rings, it's entirely unexpected. Anyone close to you knows you're just a few minutes away from heading out for the night—maybe it's a neighbour, you suppose to yourself as you head to the door.

On the other side of your flat's door is an incredibly handsome man. Broad framed, ruggedly good-looking yet with a finely pressed white shirt and dress trousers. His features are striking, strong eyes and a brow slashed with a scar, stubble all over, and a neatly trimmed mohawk that strangely suits him. All in all, a sight for fucking sore eyes, standing so confidently and casually in your doorway like he belongs.

You hate how your eyes linger on his form far longer than they probably should, but the handsome stranger is just so enthralling.

"Hello?" You mumble, a little absent-mindedly, as you try to gather thoughts that aren't just lewd and dirty.

His stormy blue eyes meet yours, his cheek tugs into a half-smile that definitely doesn't meet his eyes, the faintest dimple appearing on his left cheek. "John MacTavish, ye maw sent me."

"Oh, the bodyguard." You reply dumbly. Fuck. If you were opposed to the idea before, you certainly were now... or maybe you're not.

On one hand, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you—on the other, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you, while you act normal about the entire thing.

You realise that you're acting completely the fool, so you snap out of your thoughts and step aside to allow the older man inside. "She didn't tell me to expect you... probably thought I'd run. Uh, come in."

"Thanks." He nods as he steps through the threshold, ducking slightly as he does.

Once inside, his eyes scan over the open-plan space of your living area, seemingly taking in every little detail.

You watch him, sensing that his training and experience make him focus on the minute particulars of a room that others would completely skip over.

Your mother had already clued you into the fact there might need to be security enhancements to the flat itself, and you assume those requests came at the behest of the man himself. He seems to be lost in evaluating what these might be.

"So, what can I do for you?" You ask, filling the air with some sort of conversation starter. You have no idea what you're doing in this situation on the whole, but especially not when it comes to hiring, negotiating with, and retaining a bodyguard.

"It's what I can do fer you." He turns, taking you in now, and you start to feel self-conscious about having too many buttons undone, too much chest on show.

Something tells you that MacTavish's gaze would make you squirm regardless—his eyes carrying a heaviness to them that seem like a fantastic attribute in a protector. Surely anyone who would even think about coming close to cause you harm would reconsider under his harsh look.

You start to wrack your brains for what he can actually do for you. Again, you have no familiarity in having personal protection, beyond what you've seen your mother undergo. Your work is fairly stable, you keep the same routine, and the biggest threat you ever seem to face is the creeps in the club.

Well, apart from the online threats, but something about the anonymous, cowardly messages doesn't frighten you.

"If I'm being honest,I don't exactly want a bodyguard. I don't see much of a point?" You admit, voice a little quiet. After all, you don't mean to upset or offend the man, but you're not sure he isn't just wasting his time with this job.

He squints, considering for a moment before he answers. "Yer maw sees things differently."

She does, and that's probably the only reason you agreed to go through with this in the first place. You don't want to worry her, especially since her own security has had to be tightened due to said threats.

"Yeah, she's really worried."

John's brows furrow, a small frown appearing on his lips. "Aye, rightly so, considering everything."

He seems serious and said severity gives you pause for thought. His job is to assess and protect against threats, so surely he wouldn't be here, acting the way he is were there not a valid reason for concern. The thought makes a lump form in your throat, makes your stomach twist in a way you'd rather not acknowledge.

You try to cope with it the best way you know how—humour.

"Eh, online threats are nothing new for a girl my age, you know? And it's not like I'm anyone important." You shrug it off, hoping that if you say the words aloud, they'll just come true. As you speak, your phone chimes with a notification from your group chat, reminding you of your upcoming plans—and the fact you're going to have to abandon this little meeting. "Uh, I'd offer you a cuppa, but I'm leaving soon."

"Don't drink it anyway, but thanks." The man smiles slightly, before turning away once more and scanning the room. He cranes his neck to get a look down the hallway, leading to your bedroom and bathroom. "There's a difference between lads online, an' the kinda people that make up extremist groups like those targeting your maw and her party."

"Really?" You laugh, a short, sharp sound that betrays your discomfort. You grab your jacket and keys by the door, desperate for something to fiddle with. "Thought they were all just sad loners, desperately searching for something to make them feel better."

"Except some of them have connections, dangerous connections."

There are a million and one reasons you don't want to go through with this, and very few urging you to. Though, removing a major worry from your mother's life is a big one—John MacTavish's gorgeous blues are another. The possible invasion of privacy lingers in your head, the worry that your father might be using this as an opportunity to have the inside track on your life, on all the things you don't tell your parents. Your mind also revolts at the idea of unnecessary restrictions to your plans, your friends being held under a magnifying glass.

The thought of the threats being real is the only thing more startling. You sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. "If this is what will help her feel better, then I guess I better find a way to make this work."

He nods firmly, joining you at where you hover nervously at the door. "I'd agree."

"Unfortunately, you arrived at the worst possible time, because like I said, I'm just headed out. Can't miss the tube." You force a tight-lipped smile, making your excuse to leave—the thought of being late makes you jittery, the thought of being late continuing this difficult conversation makes you feel worse.

"Where ye going?" He asks, head tilted.

You know it's the first question of many. Where are you going? Who are you going with? The atmosphere already feels a little stifling, the relationship a little strained. You and John aren't friends, never will be friends. He's here to do a job, watch over you, and take your security very, very seriously.

"This is how it's always going to be?" You ask, the question coming out a little snappier than you intend it to.

John takes it in stride, unblinking in the face of your shortness, and yet unrelenting in his need for information. "Aye."

Once more, you sigh. "Right... I'm going to my weekly DnD game at my friend's house, and please, I really don't wanna cancel." You plead, feeling like a child reasoning with their parents rather than two adults on equal footing. You hate the feeling, even if you know his intentions are pure.

"How many friends?" He asks.

"4." You answer instantly.

"How long have ye known them?" His questioning continues, and his focus on the people you trust naturally drives you up the wall, even if again, you know it's just his job.

Your grasp on your keys tightens, your agitation growing. "I'll tell you whatever I can some other time, but please, I hate being late." You gesture to the door, indicating that it's time for him and you to leave.

John grabs the door, opening it for you and allowing you to step through before he does. As you turn to lock the door, you expect him to arrange another time and to bid you farewell, but he doesn't. "I'll drive ye. Dinnae bother arguing, lass."

His words have a finality to them that quiets you anyway, but the use of 'lass' renders you all but speechless.

"Okay..." You mumble, leading the way down the stairs as his hand comes to ghost along your lower back.

MacTavish’s vehicle is parked out in the street, and as you approach the car, you can feel his eyes searching again. He beats you to the car, a sleek black Range Rover, opening the door for you before climbing inside himself.

The action would be nice under any other circumstance, and such propriety is something you're probably going to have to get used to, but right now it just reinforces the annoying, infantilising feeling that you're currently suffering through.

As you give your friend's address to John, he takes off without another word, flicking on the car stereo before he goes. The atmosphere is thick, stifling, and you can only hope that in time the feeling will lessen, especially if your mother makes him a permanent feature.

On the way over, he picks up his questioning where he left off. "So, how long have you known this group?"

"A good few years, since uni."

"We can go over names and details when you're ready."

You take a deep breath, holding it in and then forcing yourself to calm a little. Instead, you try to focus on watching John, the diligent way he drives. "I'm assuming you have a long list of things we'll need to go over."

His eyes don't stray from you. "Aye, that we do."

The two of you fall into tense silence for the rest of the drive, nothing but the music and the sound of the car to keep you company. In the quiet street your friend lives on, John pulls in to park on the opposite side of the road, killing the engine and the radio, making the silence almost deafening.

Your nerves are getting the better of you again, and yet John seems so comfortable, unperturbed by the awkwardness. You're unsure what comes next, what to say.

"Not to be rude but, I'd prefer if you didn't come in." You utter, saying the first thing that springs to mind, despite it probably not being the best thing either. You flash the man an apologetic smile before you continue. "I don't know how to deal with all this, especially when we haven't agreed on how all this is gonna work?"

You hope your earnest admission makes up for your temporary ill-manners.

"Tha's fine, I'll stay here." He looks completely impassive. "Not ideal, but it'll do."

He doesn't look bothered by the inconvenience, and you suppose you should assuage him of the idea it's going to be a quick visit.

"Really? I'll be gone for a few hours."

His brow quirks. "Yer maw paid upfront, so as far as am concerned, my job's already started." Once more, his statement is absolute, and you don't bother trying to argue.

"Right then."

John is out of the car first, headed straight to your side of the door, checking left and right before he opens to let you out.

The action makes you both laugh and curse, perplexed by the deed as you climb out. "You're not my driver, you know you don't need to open the door for me?"

He laughs too, derisive and short as he closes the door a little too sharply. "Not tae be rude, but I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'."

"Gonna walk me to the door?" You ask, trying to shed yourself of your nerves and make the situation lighter.

You can't stay tense and subdued for the entire duration of this relationship—besides, now you're moments away from reuniting with the others in Albion Vale and forgetting all about this mess for a few hours. That alone is enough to raise your spirits.

John forces a cheeky, tight-lipped smile, the crow's feet at his eyes crinkling almost condescendingly. "Not feeling tha' gentlemanly anymore. I'm sure ye'll be fine."

"I'm sure." You make your way halfway across the road, before coming to a realisation, stopping and turning. "Oh, what's your number, you know, make this whole thing easier?"

John darts out, his arm falling just beside you as he ushers you across the road and onto the other side.

"Pass yer phone." He says, holding out a large, rough hand expectantly.

"Right, yeah." You nod, probably more than is necessary, as you pass your phone over to the man.

John takes the phone more softly than you expect, typing in his name and number before holding it back out for you to take. "I'll be here when yer done, to take ye home."

"Uh, thank you." You take the phone, before walking away sheepishly heading into your friend's block of flats and toward her apartment.

With each step you take, you try to push John and the threats and everything to do with the outside world far, far out of your brain.

The night passes by in a flurry of laughter and fun, lost in the adventures of Albion Vale and the antics of your party.

The session wraps up, and while you would usually be in no rush to head back—you know you can't sit around and leave John, however much a stranger he is, sitting in the car outside.

You text him to let him know you're headed down in five, and when you make it to the street less than 3 minutes later, he is there, leaning against the car door waiting for you.

"Thank you." You whisper, climbing inside. When John joins you in the car, he scrubs at his eyes before putting the key in the ignition. "Have you not been bored out of your mind?"

"Nothing I'm not used to." He replies instantly, pulling away before you can ask any further.

"What did you do before this?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

From your understanding, most bodyguards cut their teeth in the police or the armed forces, and have tonnes of experience under their belt.

John oozes an ex-forces demeanour–his perfect posture, constant alertness, and the scars littering his skin.

It'd be hard not to notice, but becomes immediately obvious with the way your eyes seem to love settling upon him when they can. You have to force yourself to squash down the drunken, misguided lust that flares within you as you watch his large hands on the steering wheel and notice his veiny, hairy, and muscular forearms.

"Army, Captain." He answers, pulling your attention back to him in a more professional manner properly.

Something within the way he speaks makes you think there's more to the story—though you suppose with that kind of background, he has a cache of secrets and tales that he can never really share.

"Oh." You nod, feeling a little soothed. If you have to be protected, you suppose someone with his level of experience is the best man for the job. "I'm in good hands then."

Once more, he flashes a forced half-smile. "Aye."

A moment passes, and you find more questions bubbling to the front of your brain. Naturally, you're curious about this man who is undoubtedly going to become a big part of your life from now on, but the fact that his nature is a little reserved makes your curiosity multiply. You've long been a sucker for closed-off older men—call it a character flaw.

"Why did you leave the army? If you don't mind me asking."

There's a beat of silence where you think he might not answer, but eventually, he does, eyes still fixed on the road.

"Medical reasons. Nothing that affects my ability to do this job." He rushes to add, a slight spark of defensiveness flashing through as his jaw visibly tightens.

You're no expert detective, and you haven't seen your protector in action, but your first guess is that whatever ailment made him leave isn't entirely physical. The fact he's been somewhat open about it puts your mind at ease, the fact that your mother has clearly vetted him even more so.

You offer an empathetic smile that he likely doesn't see. "I don't doubt it."

The drive home passes quicker and easier with a bit of mead in your veins, allowing you to loosen up enough to hum along to the music playing from John's speakers. The little buzz passing through you alleviates that sense of trepidation you felt earlier, luring you into a false sense of security.

When the car pulls up and John lets you out, you know just what to say what needs to come next. "Well, I guess you should come in so we can formalise things."

"I'd appreciate it." He nods, before turning back to the car to grab a bag and follow you into the building.

You and John sit at your kitchen island, tea in your hand and coffee in John's—a neat, stapled stack of papers sits before you.

"Here's the contract I signed with ye maw, but she's given us some wiggle room." John says, tapping the top of the paper where the bold letters of CLOSE PROTECTION AGREEMENT — 141 SECURITY sit.

"Nice of her to allow me a say, if I'm honest." You laugh dryly—you love your mother dearly, but you'd be lying if you said she wasn't overbearing. Your initial protests about this whole arrangement had been entirely shut down, and clearly, she didn't trust you to follow through considering she sprung John on you tonight, unannounced.

"I'm sure she just wants what's best for ye." John offers as you flick through the pages.

The contract outlines the agreement between the Guard and The Principal—with stipulations on activities, compensation, and conduct.

It's weird seeing it all laid out on paper, seeing the hefty cost of John's services, and the fact you'll be giving this man free access to your home and life. All of this to keep you safe from some nebulous threats that have not even been acted upon.

"She does, but this is inconvenient, and frustrating to say the least." You purposefully choose not to include the words 'fucking annoying' and 'torturing me with a hot man I can't have', though your next conversation with your therapist will absolutely include such descriptions and more.

"I can understand tha'." He nods understandingly, before raising his coffee and taking a sip—his gaze unwavering as he does. "You've never had close protection before?"

You shake your head. "No, this is all new to me."

"Okay. We'll start by discussing exactly what kind of protection you're looking for. Part of tha' will be dictated by what yer maw laid out, like I said, we can decide specifics."

"Sounds like a plan." You lean back in your stool, tea in hand as you contemplate. Admittedly, you should have done some research before this, but in your defence, you did think you had more time. You're not entirely sure what boundaries you can set—but you hope that John can lead the process a little. "I don't think I can do something 24/7, and it's not like you can stay here, I guess."

You cringe internally thinking about how fucking awkward that would be—your tipsy brain supplies the image of the world's most uncomfortable sleepover.

In your imagination, John looks grumpy and uncomfortable, still tucked up in bed in that stiff shirt with his boots still on. You are, of course, in little fluffy bunny pyjamas staring at him all gooey-eyed whilst he tries to pretend everything is normal. It takes conscious effort for you not to giggle at the mental image.

"I understand. I'd suggest I escort you anywhere outside these four walls, day or night, work and social events. Conduct security checks on your flat, vet close contacts, update your digital security, things like tha'." John supplies a rundown of potential actions like it's a grocery list, yet a very severe grocery list. His collected nature does put you more at ease.

"Sounds a tad invasive."

"I'll try to make it as little as possible."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You smile slightly, truly thankful for his consideration and tact.

You give John a once over, thoughts once again ticking over. "If you're going to be with me everywhere, you can't walk around like that, outside of my work, that is. No offense, it's just, all my friends are gonna think I'm a self-important twat if I start showing up everywhere with some posh bodyguard." You stop abruptly, realising how much you're bloody rambling.

"Am far from posh. But, more casual look then, aye?"

You smile a little nervously, hoping you haven't completely offended the man. "Please."

This whole situation is beyond difficult to navigate—untreaded paths, forging new relationships, balancing existing ones. Your friends really are going to think this whole situation is beyond bizarre. They already find amusement in seeing your mother on the news. Having a bodyguard is going to leave you subject to endless teasing, relentless mocking, and attempts to make your and John's life a whole lot harder.

Your head falls into your hands as you rub at the sockets of your eyes, undoubtedly smearing your makeup and making a mess of your face. It'll get easier, you reassure yourself.

With your eyes closed and pressed into the heel of your hands, you don't see the way John's expression softens or the way he moves closer to comfort you before hesitating and stopping short. "Wha's the matter?"

"I'm just... incredibly anxious about how this is going to play out with my friends, with work."

John leaps into problem-solving mode, immediately pulling from his brain some words to soothe you, as well as making note of what bumps in the road to smooth out. "Ye mother said she already consulted yer work, and they're fine to make accommodations."

Of course, she'd already talked to David about the whole thing. "So it'll be fine aside from all the gossip it will cause."

"It's politics and I ken yer not naïve, everybody's talking anyway, no?" He offers, and yet you don't seem assuaged, so he tries a different tactic. "It's my job to blend in. They'll barely notice me."

"With that haircut? Sorry." You giggle—surprisingly you find the mohawk suits his rugged look, but it certainly isn't something you've seen on a man that wasn't walking the streets of Camden. Though, even with a more fitting haircut, the man is so casually striking and ever so slightly imposing that he just naturally draws attention. "In general, you don't strike me as a man who does blending in well, not in civilian life anyway."

His eyes narrow for a moment, before he struggles to fight off a smirk. "Hmm, ye might have a point. Not changing ma hair though, sorry. Nae sure ye family has enough money for tha' one."

His more playful side makes your heart soar, and gives you hope that everything might just be alright.

"I have a crazy idea." Okay, maybe you're more tipsy than you thought you were, as your brain supplies an outlandish plot and your mouth runs away with it.

His eyebrow arches and his eyes sparkle with intrigue. John MacTavish seems like a man who likes crazy ideas. "Go oan."

"I'll tell my friends that you're my boyfriend, and we're just so madly in love that you have to come everywhere with me. Means no real questions."

Your proposition is met with deafening silence, despite the huge, encouraging grin on your face.

John laughs, just the once, before his expression hardens. "Not a chance, lass."

"Why? You don't have to really do anything. Besides, it'll save you sitting outside in the car, or staring from the shadows and making everyone feel uncomfortable."

You realise now that while you noticed a distinct lack of a ring, there's the possibility that John is still attached, and what you're suggesting is wildly inappropriate—but it's not that point he argues on.

"Aye, so I just have to spend ma time socialising instead." He scoffs.

"Well, surely you're not brooding and mysterious all the time." You wager.

Once more, he finds a smirk tugging at his lips that he can't hold back. "No' at all, but it's been a long time since I was the life of the party, and something tells me that me an' your DnD friends don't have a lot in common."

"They might surprise you, but you also might surprise yourself. Maybe you're a secret nerd." You wink, still being jovial before you shift back to your genuine pleas. "It'll make my life a whole lot easier and be one less thing for me to stress about. My friends wouldn't second guess the story much once they got past the shock of me bagging someone older, wiser, and oh-so-handsome. Please."

You flash your softest, sweetest doe eyes and lay the compliments on extra thick in the hopes of swaying him. In the political world, you're used to using charm to try and get what you want, and know that without charisma you'd get nowhere. Perhaps it's a bit low of you to stoop to using flirtation on someone who could likely run rings around you when it comes to negotiation, but it's worked before, and at this point, you're desperate.

John straightens up in his seat, eyes you for a moment, and then lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine."

The fact he relents honestly takes you a little by surprise. You're relieved, but yes, surprised. "Huh?"

"Fine, I'll be whoever ye want me to be..." The look in his eyes shifts to something imperceptible, as he leans over the counter closer to you. "As long ye listen to what I say when it comes to yer safety and security. Deal?"

He holds out his hand, and your own feels dwarfed when you reach out to take his calloused palm.

"You drive a hard bargain, John MacTavish. Deal." You shake, and neither of you makes a move to immediately let go.

"Aye, a know." He winks, and the action makes your heart skip a beat, your cheeks flood with heat.

Each second passes slowly, his touch feeling like too much and not enough all at once. You know at that moment that life from now on is going to be especially difficult as long as John is around.

What he says next is the final nail in that particular coffin. "Would've done it anyway, but glad I got ye to agree to ma terms, lass."

#soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #bunny writes #run to you

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 1 year

Text

What Kind of Man, Indeed

Pairing: Lucas (@needleanddead oc) x reader

Prompt: I had the weirdest idea but it totally worked out

Description: In the woods, people hope to find a few things: freedom from modern life and the stress that came with it, time to relax and spend with family, what have you… You, however, find a chicken. Confused and a little concerned, you decide its up to you to protect her.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: Explicit mentions of blood, and murder; does not go into detail. Lucas is referred to as a murderer and killer (because he is), and reader is patronized by Lucas p much their entire interactions.

Word Count: 2830

Notes: Hiiii nat remember when I told you I wrote a Lucas fic <3333 found this finished but unedited in my stuff and whoo boy it needed some work (concept was done very poorly but we figured it out boys) and I'm SO excited to bring this to you guys now!!! I really like how it came out!!!

You lived away from your family, and it wasn’t often you could get the time off work to come home and see them. You had a week off from work to come up and spend some time with them. That, of course, had to start with a little family camping trip. You hadn’t gone in so many years, but the promise of cold lake water and sweet pine trees had you agreeing.

You actually hadn’t been to this particular site before. This was a smaller trip with only four of you (you, your parents, and your aunt-- the only people who could get 3 days off in a row to go) so the four of you set off with just your parents camper and your mothers car to enjoy yourself.

So much had changed since the last time you went camping, yet you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic as you sat around the fire with everyone. This time around, you were even old enough to be drinking with your parents if you so chose. You decide against it on this particular night, instead watch your family with crinkled eyes and full heart as they chatted and drank and ate all in high spirits.

“I think I’m gonna walk for a bit, anyone want to join me?” You couldn’t help but stand and stretch, wanting some time away from the sting of the campfire smoke. Your dad turns to speak to you.

“We’re all good, don’t go far though it’s getting late.” He warns you, taking another swig of his beer after he speaks.

“I won’t dad.” You smile at him, and make sure to grab the flashlight. “I got the flashlight, and my phone, and you guys are making enough noise to scare away anything that might hurt me.” You joke. “I’m only going down to the lake after all.” He nods in satisfaction, leaving you to it as he turns back to your mother and aunt.

You leave with no issue, taking the barely seen path that would lead to the lake. During the day the walk didn’t long at all, hardly 15 minutes. When that passes and you don’t have any sign of water, you know you’ve made a mistake somewhere. You pause, taking a look of your surrounds.

You can’t see the light of your families fire anymore, but their laughing and cheering can still be heard fine. Your other directions just show more woodland, with tall pines and short brush and no sign of water.

“Oh geez…” You can’t help but let out a sigh, scanning your surroundings with your flashlight once more. Even the sounds of the night were beginning to blur together-- the loons in the distance, the cicadas in the trees, the clucking of chickens….

“Wait.” You scanned over the area you just passed over, one that had signifigantly less brush in it. As you pass over the area slowly this time you can’t help but stare at the creature caught in your brights. “There’s no way that’s a chicken.” You say aloud. Still, you move in closer to the bird. It’s not at all bothered by your presence, instead mulling around your feet as if it weren’t in any danger out here at all.

“Who dumps a chicken this deep into the woods…?” You look down at the bird by your feet, unsure what to do about it or your own situation.“Ma’am, are you aware how late it is? What on earth are you doing out?” You squat down beside the hen, not knowing what else to do.

She clucks once, and merely turns her head. You admire her a moment, seeing that she looked well fed and taken care of, which makes it even weirder than she was out here alone. Still, she’s smart enough to realize that you’re big, and you could scare away predators-- another trait that tells you this was someones pet or livestock.

“Can I pick you up?” You ask, as if she could answer. Even though you’re also lost, you would feel bad if you just left this chicken to fend for herself.

You give her a hesitant pet, which she doesn’t seem to mind. You pick her up with careful hands, having never really held a chicken before, but she settles rather nicely in your arms. In fact, your cat struggles more than this when you hold him.

“Well, okay.” Chicken tucked under your left arm, and flashlight held in your right, you rise to your feet once more, deciding to just turn back the way you came and go to the lake when it was light out.

No sooner then you do does a piercing scream run through the forest. It makes your blood run cold; it sounded just like your mother. You turn to that direction, aimlessly charging in the direction you heard it. Your heartbeat only picks up more as you hear more screams-- surely your aunt and your father.

You don’t know whats happening. You haven’t been this scared in your life Was their a large animal back at your camp? A bear, a cougar? And was everyone okay?

You apparently hadn’t wandered off too far because within minutes, you can see the color of your fire. You pick up the pace, heart jumping into your throat as you hear signs of a struggle. You turn off your light as you approach, and try to figure out whats happening. You can’t help but feel you need to remain quiet.

When you can finally see whats happening, tears spring to your eyes. Close by, you see your mother laying on the ground. She’s covered in blood from a wound you can’t immediately see. It doesn’t look like shes breathing. Beside her, your aunt; she’s bloodied as well, slumped over as if trying to help her before being struck down herself. Behind their forms, you can see two men. Your dad was the only one one this trip though-- your brothers and cousins couldn’t make it.

Maybe that was for the better.

Your dad is hurt you realize with horror. He’s got a large cut on his left arm. But still, he’s fighting off whoever it was that invaded your sanctuary. He’s struggling for the ax in the mans hand. You can’t move, can’t take your eyes off the fight in front of you. When it seems your dad gets a grip on the weapon, it slips out of his fist-- the blood that ran off his arms making his hand slick.

He falls to the ground, splayed back on his back by the fallen forms of your mother and aunt. You wince and hold the chicken close to you as your fathers scream is silenced by the sickening sound of an ax cuts through his chest.

Again and again and again and again. Until, with one eye daring to peak open, he doesn’t move, doesn’t scream. Silence fills your campsite, where even the crackle of the fire seems to die down in the horror that just took place.

The mystery man—your families murderer—stands up straight after the job is done, pushing back graying hair. If he notices the blood on his face, in his hair, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t notice you, you think.

That is, until the chicken, the dumb chicken you randomly found in the woods, makes a noise of discomfort at how hard you hold her. You gasp and hurriedly lessen your grip but the damage has already been done.

Crazed eyes turn to you. You’ve never seen blood lust in someones eyes like this before. Even from several feet away, across the fire, it has you shivering. As he watches you now, your feet are still stuck to the ground. You speak before you can think not too.

“You… you killed my dad. My mama… my auntie…” Your tears make it hard to see but you swear, the look of rage is immediately swept off his face. “W-why?”

Suddenly, your knees can’t support you. You fall down in a heap. To your horror, the man is approaching you. He doesn’t have his weapon raised, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. He’s speaking to you, you realize. He didn’t make hardly a sound while butchering your family, but now that he sees you, he speaks.

“You found my girl…” He crosses over to where you are easily. You didn’t notice how tall he was until he’s upon you, squatting down until his towering form in right in front of yours. He reeks of blood, of sweat and fatigue.

“Where did you get to, Dolly?” He ignores you a moment in favor of the chicken you held. She wiggles out of your now limp grip, eagerly running to the man. He sets aside his weapon and pets the chicken affectionately. The sight of him coddling a chicken while covered in your families blood has to be the picture of irony.

It fills you with a hatred so vile, so sickening, all you want to do is attack him—tackle him to the ground and demand he answer for the lives he’s taken. But you can’t even move from the spot your frozen to. Even your throat, seized with your grief, can barely let pass your sobs. You’ve never felt so powerless, so weak in the face of true evil.

“Why did you do this?” You’re unsure how you manage to speak the words, twisted by pure emotions going through you. You don’t know why you’re not dead, too. “My parents… my…” Instead, you weep into your open hands. What else was there to do?

“Oh darlin…” His voice is so, so gentle. He reaches out, places a bloodied hand on your shoulder. You can’t help but shudder in disgust as you feel the blood of your family touch your skin.

“P-please don’t t.. touch me…” You don’t know why you bother begging or bartering with a killer, but your words don’t stop as you pull your face up. “J-just kill me. I-I… I can’t…!” You again cry out, uncaring if he saw you. This man, this killer, makes a soft, sweet coo at your words. He moves even closer to you, until he’s pulled you into his arms. You don’t how the strength or will to push him away.

“Now why would I hurt something as sweet as you?” His words make you want to cry even more. You try to even your breathing, to fight him, to hurt him, to do anything. But you just stay limp in his arms, crying and gasping and trying to get your breathing back to normal. All you can do is cry, cry into the arms of your families killer.

It takes several minutes for you to stop openly bawling. You’re so embarrassed, so upset, so angry. In that time, this man, this killer, has pulled you into an awkward hug, holding you tightly in his embrace. He tries to console you, using gentle words and sweet tones to tell you that you’ll be okay, that you’re okay, that he won’t hurt you. When you finally feel well enough to speak, you pull away from him. He keeps you in his grip, but allows you the freedom to look up at his face and speak.

“Why won’t you kill me?” Your voice is the clearest it’s been since you’ve come back to camp. You surprised you can talk with him, look at him without crying. Without screaming or yelling. “Why am I different?” Tears still glisten in your eyes, still streak down your cheeks.

“Don’t worry about that.” His tone is so dismissive. As if he’s had to answer this question so many times before. “You’re…” He pauses but shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter. I should get you home.”

“Home?” The word feels hollow in your throat. You didn’t have a home anymore-- not with your family dead.

“With me.” He smiles at you, as if he has any right. Like he’s doing you a favor. You don’t think you could hate someone as much as you do him.

“P-please don’t do this.” All you can think to do is beg. You feel pathetic.

You think he likes that.

“You don’t have to worry about anything darlin. I’ll take care of you.” It’s as if he doesn’t hear you. Maybe he hasn’t this whole time-- maybe he saw you as helpless and pathetic as the chicken milling around the two of you. Maybe to him, your just the same as a helpless chicken lost in the woods. Out of place, and needing someone bigger and stronger to protect and guide them...

He helps you to your feet. Your legs are still unsteady—none of you really feels solid. Still, before you can crumble to the ground once again he catches you against himself. You think you might hate yourself more than you do him, for having to rely on him like this. As you lean into him, and look into green eyes, you can’t help but ask.

“...What’s your name?” It shouldn’t matter, but it does right now. You needed something to ground you—a name you could connect all these emotions with. He seems pleased that you’ve become interested in him. Or at least, disinterested in what happened here.

“Call me Lucas.” His name shouldn’t be so simple. So mundane.

“Lucas…” He perks up at hearing his name come from your lips. You want to ask more, but your questions have all been ignored. Redirected. Still, your lips move to speak. “Why are you doing this?” You’ve never felt so small as you do with him guiding you into the woods, supporting you with one gentle hand and carrying his lost chicken with another just as slight touch.

“...You looked liked you needed some protectin, is all. What kind of man would I be if I left you alone like this?”

What kind of man indeed.

You don’t speak any more as he leads you away from the camp you and your family had made. Lucas is all too happy to fill the silence, navigating the woods with no need of any light. You’re not surprised when he takes you to a small cabin in the woods. You don’t know how long the walk was, but it couldn’t be too far from where your family had set up for camp. It makes you wonder.

Were you even the first group of people Lucas had come across in the woods? ...Would you be the last?

“I don’t think I ever got your name, sugar.” You don’t know how you found yourself in the small cabin. It feels like your grandmothers house. Cluttered but comfortable. The anxiety you feel here is far different, though. When you don’t answer, he just sighs.

“You must be tired… I’ll let you take the bed.” Along the way, you’re able to find your feet. Lucas leads you to a room that is rather bare bones-- a dresser, a bed and not much else you can see in the dim light. Still, it looks lived in. He a stands beside you a moment as you take in the room.

“Ah, you can’t sleep in that. I’ll fetch you something—just stay here.” You watch wordless as he goes. You can hear him shuffle around a moment, opening a closet or a drawer. As he said, he’s back before you know it. Holding a large shirt and another blanket.

“It gets cold here at night, but you probably already knew that.” He hands you the two items with a little smile. He acts as if he’s done this all before. “I’ll leave you to it then… I’ll be out on the couch. Just holler if you need me.” He gives you a final once over before leaving the room. The door locks with a deafening click behind him.

You don’t change into the shirt. The blanket he gave you sits folded on the edge of the bed. Even as you sit gently on the bed, and take a deep breath, it doesn’t feel real.

This place smells like him. Like iron and sweat, of campfires and something sinister. You don’t know how he expects you to sleep. When you close your eyes, all you can see is the piled bodies of your loved ones. Carelessly left to rot in a place where all they wanted was to relax. Left in this room alone, you can’t find it in you to be scared any more. You want to scream and yell and throw a fit, you want to go back to your families corpses and beg them to come to life.

You want Lucas to hurt like you do.

But, you’re not that kind of person. You’re someone who needs protecting. And Lucas was gonna do that for you, whether you liked it or not. Precious thing like you can’t do much about it, anyways.

#oc x reader #murderoc x reader #yandere x reader #he's not really in this but just wait #lucas x reader #needleanddead #hiiii nat I love you!!!#and your old man!!!#murder canibal pepaw can get it!#oh reader don't even know #gotta ask to borrow other peoples ocs more often I love this

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underwhelmingalchemist · 10 months

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21 and 38 for the asks! <3

That moment when you don't notice an ask until a day later and the post has already been buried under 100+ notifications so you gave to dig to find the original so you can actually play the ask game you asked to play in the first place @_@

Anyways this got long so I'm going to stick it under a read more:

21: What I love most about myself: Um good question. Not in like a "I don't have anything I like about myself" way but in a "oh boy what do I like most" way. So I'm just going to lay out a couple things. I really like how I look, and more than that, I like that I like how I look. I used to hate my appearance. I would pick apart every detail of my face in the mirror and figure out which parts I would ideally change to be more pretty, or hide my body behind hoodies in California summer weather and refuse to ever go swimming, or put on heavy foundation to hide any and all possible blemishes. And then I became an adult, got out of high school, gained weight, and started playing around with self-expression through things like cosplay and alt fashion and makeup, and I started to realize: I'm actually pretty fucking hot. It doesn't matter if I'm wearing makeup or none or a titty top or a t-shirt or going masc or femme or wearing pastel decora or minimalist goth or just my work t-shirt and cargo shorts. I'm hot. I can't point to any one thing about me that's attractive, so maybe it's just the confidence. Hot girl (gn) vibes, if you will. And the fact that I can look in a mirror and not only actually like who I see looking back at me, but also think they're attractive is incredible, and something I hope one day I can take for granted. I went on a bit long about that, so I'll try to be shorter with this one. I like that I try to be kind. Am I always kind? No. I definitely have moments and situations where I am quite notably unkind. But I try. And it's led to some of the most genuine human connections with strangers I've ever had. I don't talk about it many of them online, just because I don't want to seem like I'm bragging about how good of a person I am, but I may as well talk a bit here since nobody actually reads these things. A couple weeks ago, a mom came up short on her groceries after paying for half of them and started panicking because her card wasn't working, so I paid the rest and told her to go and she nearly cried. I similarly paid for some groceries for a (presumably) unhoused woman who comes into the store a couple times a week to spend gift cards and loose change on food when she was struggling to find the funds in her coat, and now whenever she sees me she actually looks at me and smiles. I think it helps that I know her routine by now and always let her scan her own food, since she seems to have anxiety around others handling it. I once gave a girl flowers because she mentioned she was having a hard day while talking to me on register, and she broke down into tears, told me it made her day a little easier, and that she'd just lost someone close to her. I gave her a hug, and instead of getting upset about the wait time, the girl in line behind her also came up and hugged her. I've had a lot of people break down when I give them flowers, actually, and it's incredibly rare that anyone behind them is ever upset about the extra minute it takes to get them some flowers. And this is getting long, so I'm going to cut it off here. But I try hard to be as kind, and I think that means something.

38: My childhood career choice: I think I've always wanted to be a teacher primarily, but when I was a kid I kind of wanted to be everything. Especially Spider-Man.

Thanks for the ask!

Find the game here x

#long post #ask game #does this come off as egotistical? i kind of feel like it does but whatever #personal

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myherowritings · 3 years

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PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month.

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place.

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of.

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista.

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores.

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do.

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack.

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming.

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?”

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!”

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.”

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot.

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.)

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.”

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?”

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now.

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?”

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.”

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.”

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.”

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either.

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit.

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.”

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.”

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.”

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility.

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter.

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through.

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?”

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron.

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!”

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?”

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning.

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.”

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude.

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

Cat and Mouse Game - Fred Weasley

Title: Cat and Mouse Game Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, mentions of masturbation, semi-public sex, fingerfucking, unprotected sex A/N: I have a lot of feelings about Fred Weasley and very few of them are innocent. This is like 95% filth with some fluff thrown in at the end because I love Fred Weasley and he’s my only source of serotonin.

Tags: @tonksichu

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They’ve been playing the same game of cat and mouse since their Hogwarts days. They’d take turns leaving flirty notes for the other to find, grabbing the other’s hand under the table at dinner, pulling the other into a dark corridor for a few minutes of stolen kisses. Not much has changed between them since then, although their games are far less innocent.

“Mail’s here!” Verity calls from somewhere in the shop.

Fred doesn’t move a muscle, his focus completely taken up by the potion he’s stirring in front of him. He and George have been working on a new product for weeks, a candy infused with truth serum that only lasts for one question – the perfect addition to any game of truth or dare. They had planned on launching it next week, but they’re still having problems getting the formula of the truth serum just right.

“For fucks sake,” he mutters to himself when a puff of black smoke rises out of the cauldron. “Too much dandelion root.” He shoves himself away from his desk, stalking over to the sink so he can start over again. He’s so focused on scrubbing that he doesn’t hear George come in.

“Not going well, eh?” George asks, chuckling when Fred drops the cauldron, clearly startled by his brother’s sudden presence.

“I’m going to make you wear a bell for Merlin’s sake. You scared the shit out of me,” Fred groans, picking the cauldron back up. He rinses it one more time before stalking back to his desk. He’s about to start working again, when he notices that George is still standing in front of him. “Did you need something? Or are you just gonna stand there to annoy me?”

George smiles at his brother. Partially because he finds his frustrated demeanor amusing, but mostly because it’ll annoy Fred further. “Oh, I just popped in to bring you your mail.”

Fred rolls his eyes, getting back to work. “Just put it in the tray, I’ll get to it later.” He gestures lazily to the incoming work tray on the corner of his desk, which has started to pile up. He’s going over his notes so he can adjust the amount of dandelion root for the fifth time, when George shoves a letter into his line of vision.

“Actually, dear brother of mine I think you’ll notice that this particular letter requires your immediate attention,” George snickers. He drops the letter on the desk, and with a waggle of his fingers he’s gone.

Fred had only gotten a glimpse of the envelope, but as soon as George has closed the door behind him he pushes his work aside to pick it up. He recognized Y/N’s delicate writing immediately, he had become quite familiar with it during their time together at school.

In fact, he’s been waiting for this letter for the past three weeks. That’s how it is with them. One of them is the aggressor while the other waits for the next letter, waits for the details of their next meeting. It had been Fred’s turn to wait, and wait he had. Most nights he found himself laying in bed, hand around his hard cock thinking about the things he and Y/N had gotten up to during their last rendezvous.

That’s the one thing he truly misses about his days back in school, how easy it was for him to force her hand when he was tired of waiting. He knew her too well, knew how to get under her skin. Whenever he missed the feeling of her hand in his, or when he had nearly forgotten what the inside of her mouth tastes like it was all too easy to get her to make her move. All it took was some innocent flirting during breakfast, usually with Angelina Johnson, and by lunch time there would be a note in Y/N’s delicate scrawl detailing their next meeting time and place on his pillow.

But now he truly has to wait for Y/N to need him. They had gone longer than three weeks before, but that had been during the war, when it was too dangerous to play their game. Fred knows that he could always break their little game, he could owl her any day and have her in his bed that night, but he enjoys the chase, it’s part of the fun.

His mind wanders as his fingers tear at the envelope, wondering which of their games Y/N had chosen for them, silently hoping she had chosen his favorite.

Sometimes their game was romantic. They’d meet at a fancy muggle restaurant, all dressed up. Fred would wine and dine her for hours before he’d take her back to his. Their sex was always slow and intimate. Fred would make sure she could feel all of him and wouldn’t stop until his name was dripping from her lips as she came. He’d kiss her slowly as he came insider her, wanting to feel as close to her as possible.

Other times, their game was quick and dirty. They’d meet at a hotel room in London and from the second the door was shut behind them they were all over each other. They’d both be naked in a matter of minutes, their hands roaming each other’s bodies and Fred’s mouth leaving marks on her wherever he can. Their sex was quick and hard, both of them usually on their lunch breaks. Often they came together, and Fred’s lips wouldn’t leave her skin until they were back on the bustling streets of London and parting ways to go back to their lives.

Fred’s favorite game by far was the perfect mix of the others. They’d meet at a muggle club, just a few minutes apart from each other. Fred would arrive first and grab a drink from the bar before settling at a table. When Y/N would enter they’d lock eyes, and the game would truly begin. Y/N would spend the evening doing as she pleases: drinking, dancing, and most importantly, flirting. Fred would watch her from his spot, jealousy and arousal building up in his stomach. He’d let her push it and just as some unsuspecting muggle is trying to get her to leave with him, Fred would swoop in and remind her just who she belongs too. Their first round is quick and dirty, usually in the toilets of whatever club they happen to be at. Then he’d apperate them back to hers, and they’d spend the rest of the evening tangled in the sheets of her bed, kissing softly as he ruined her.

Fred fumbles with the envelope as he pulls the piece of parchment out, too excited to be careful. A grin spreads across his face as he eyes scan over the few words written down. She had chosen his favorite game, and he couldn’t wait to play.

Malibu. Tonight. 10:30.

Y/N stands in front of her open closet in nothing but a dressing gown, nervous butterflies in her stomach as she contemplates what to wear. Upscale muggle clubs are not her usual stomping ground and she wants to look perfect, so she’s at a loss for what to wear.

Of course, she could have picked one of their other games. She had plenty of dresses she felt confident in that would have been perfect for a night at a muggle restaurant, but it had already been three weeks since she’d seen Fred last, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for a reservation to open up. A lunch time meet up would have been perfect as well, since her and Fred managed to get naked in under 10 seconds her clothes wouldn’t matter, but she needed longer than an hour with him.

Plus, this particular game is Fred’s favorite, and she needs him nice and riled up for the night she has planned. They’ve only played out this game two other times, but both times Y/N was barely able to walk the next day.

She decides to go with something white, for a few different reasons. For one, Y/N had bought a white silk dress that hugs her curves perfectly last weekend and seeing her in something new and tight will rile Fred up even more.

But mostly, she knows that seeing her in white awakens something carnal in Fred. Y/N had once made the mistake of wearing a brand new set of matching white bra and panties to one of their meetings, and after Fred had ripped her panties off he fucked her hard, growling in her ear about how innocent she looked in white, but that they both knew what a dirty slut she was for him. He had made her cum so many times that she cried from the overstimulation, the only downside was that she had to replace her ruined panties and they had been quite expensive.

Y/N grabs the new white dress out of her closet, a shiver running down her spine at the memory. Three weeks is far too long to go without having Fred both in her bed and just in her life generally. She makes a mental note not to wait that long next time as she heads over to her dresser. She opens the top drawer, trying to decide which pair of panties would really get Fred going.

“Well, if I’m being honest with myself,” Y/N thinks out loud, quietly. With a wicked smile she slams the drawer shut. “No panties it is.”

Fred is already nursing a whiskey sour at a table when Y/N strolls into the main room of the club. Their eyes lock across the crowded room, and after sending her a sly wink his eyes trail down her body.

“Holy hell,” he groans, the grip he has on his glass tightening. He can already feel himself getting hard in his trousers just from the outfit Y/N is wearing alone. Fred can tell by the way the lights reflect off of it that the tight piece of fabric clinging to her every curve is made out of silk, his absolute favorite. The fact that it’s white drives him even crazier and he quickly downs his drink, needing to calm himself down.

From where Y/N is standing at the bar Fred has the perfect view of her bum. He absent mindedly signals for a waitress to bring him another drink, his eyes trained on Y/N. Fred has to stifle a groan when her dress rides up the back of her thighs as she leans forward to shout her order to the bartender. He’s fully hard in his trousers now as he thinks about how badly he wants to feel those thighs wrapped around his head.

Just as a waitress sets another drink down on Fred’s table a young man with tousled blonde hair comes up behind Y/N, blocking his view.

He takes a sip of his drink. “Let the games begin.”

Y/N feels someone come up behind her, and a moment later she can feel them press up against her. “You come here alone?”

She smiles to herself before turning to the stranger. There’s no doubt that he’s attractive, and Y/N knows that she had positioned herself directly in Fred’s line of sight, so she knows that he’s watching their exchange.

“I did actually,” she drawls, her hand running down the length of the glass the bartender had just set in front on her. “Was hoping to find someone that piques my interest here.”

The man’s eyes follow the languid movement of her hand on her glass for a moment, before he looks into her eyes with a smirk. “Oh really? Any luck so far?”

Y/N takes a sip of her drink, willing herself to keep her eyes on the man in front of her instead of searching for Fred’s. The alcohol burns her throat as arousal begins to build in her stomach. She knows Fred is out there, watching her intently as she flirts with someone who isn’t him. But they both know who she’ll be going home with, and that though alone has her pussy aching.

“I think so,” Y/N responds, her voice dripping with arousal. It’s not due to the man standing in front of her, but he doesn’t need to know that. She looks him up and down, taking notice of his strong hands and long legs. She nods to herself, almost saying ‘yeah, he’ll do.’ She downs the rest of her drink quickly and slaps some muggle money down on the bar. “Care to dance?”

Fred’s eyes are trained on the dance floor, his second drink abandoned on the table next to him. He’s too focused on Y/N, watching her hips sway to the beat of whatever muggle song is playing. Her back is pressed up against the front of the bloke that approached her at the bar, and his hands are gripping her hips. They’ve been dancing like that for at least 30 minutes and Fred feels like he hasn’t even blinked, he’s too entranced by Y/N.

His cock has been aching in his trousers for what feels like hours, and his stomach is a pit full of arousal and jealousy. On one hand he finds Y/N’s actions downright dirty, and he knows he’ll be thinking of how good she looks tonight next time he’s alone in bed and desperate for her touch. On the other hand, he wants to be the one dancing behind her, gripping her hips so tightly he leaves bruises to remind her of him for days after.

Fred clenches his fist, his eyes trailing up Y/N’s body to her face to try and calm himself down. They’ve only been at it for 45 minutes and Fred already wants to storm over and claim Y/N. The first time they had played this particular game Y/N had been shy, and Fred had watched her flirt with a few different guys before she had settled on the dance floor with one. He watched her with him for the better part of two hours before he intervened, no longer able to stand the fact that it wasn’t his hands gripping her bum.

The second time Y/N was bolder. She had spent only 30 minutes at the bar talking to a bloke before they moved to the dance floor. Fred had managed to watch for over an hour that time before his hands ached to touch her and he sent the muggle man Y/N had been with away.

When he first entered the club that evening he had planned on waiting longer. Y/N had made him wait three weeks, and he planned on punishing her by making her wait for him. But now that he’s standing there, watching her move in that sinful white dress against someone who isn’t him he can barely stop himself from stomping over there and taking her right in the middle of the dance floor.

Usually he can contain himself. She’s always driven him mad, but he enjoys their little game too much to break the rules. He loves the uncertainty of the chase, it’s what had drawn him in all those years ago at Hogwarts. Not knowing what the next note would contain, not knowing how long she would make him wait, not knowing what wicked plans she had made for them. Y/N was just as unpredictable as Fred and that usually drove him crazy in a good way. But now, as Fred watches her grind up against some stranger he would give anything to know what’s going on in her mind. Fred isn’t sure if it’s because it’s been three weeks since he last saw her or because she looks absolutely ethereal tonight but he’s ready to end their game early and take his woman home.

Luckily for Fred the song Y/N and her partner had been dancing to fades into another, and the pair head back towards the bar. Fred adjusts himself in his trousers so his arousal isn’t so obvious, before he throws some money on his table.

“Time to end this game.”

A light line of sweat has begun to drip down Y/N’s back and she can feel the wetness of her pussy coating her thighs. Her and Darren, she had managed to remember to at least ask the name of the poor bloke she planned on blue balling, had been dancing right in the middle of the dance floor where Y/N knew Fred could see. She could feel his gaze on her as she moved her hips to the beat which did nothing but heighten her arousal.

“So, what are you drinking?” Darren asks as they reach the bar once again. Y/N had suggested they get another drink, needing to take a break from Fred’s stare.

Y/N can smell Fred before she feels him. He’s always smelled the same, like cinnamon, fireworks and something Y/N can only describe as home. She’s about to respond to the question when she feels someone press up against her back. Fred grabs her hips tightly and Y/N has to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

“Actually, I think she’s had enough to drink,” Fred answers for her as he pulls her even tighter against his chest. His voice sends waves of pleasure through Y/N’s body, and she tries to subtly rub her thighs together to try and get some relief on her aching pussy.

Darren glares at Fred, and if Y/N wasn’t so turned on she probably would have laughed. “Oi, mate, d’you mind? We’re having a good time together.”

Y/N can feel Fred’s chest rumble against her back as he laughs, clearly unphased by what Darren had said. She feels Fred lean down, and a shiver runs down her spine as his lips lightly caress her earlobe.

“Is that true, baby? Were you having a good time with him?” Fred whispers in Y/N’s ear before he begins to press light kisses to the side of her neck.

“I was, yes,” she admits, with a nod, her voice shaking with arousal.

Darren looks like he’s about to tell Fred off, but Fred’s lips stop their movements on her neck so he can whisper in her ear again. “But what about me, baby? Are you ready to have a good time with me?”

Y/N is barely able to nod before Fred is spinning her in his arms and kissing her deeply. She can hear Darren say something rude as he stalks off, but her mind is too full of Fred to register it. Fred trails one of his hands down to Y/N’s bum, giving it a tight squeeze, and when she parts her lips to let out a soft moan he takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth.

When Fred breaks their kiss a few moments later Y/N is breathless, her cheeks tinted pink. She chases after his lips, desperate for more but Fred grabs her chin. Her eyes flick up to meet his gaze, and a tingle of pleasure runs through her pussy at how dark Fred’s eyes are.

“You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N,” he growls into her ear. “You show up here in this,” he pauses so his fingers can tug at the bottom hem of her dress before he continues. “Knowing that I can’t touch you.” Fred trails off for a moment, letting his lips press slow kisses up and down the column of her throat. “Such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

Y/N lets out a whine, letting her head fall back so Fred’s lips have more skin to kiss. “Just wanted to look pretty for you is all,” she gasps. Fred’s mouth had found her sweet spot and started to slowly suck at it.

Fred hums against her neck, his hands wrapping around her waist. He pulls her body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so Y/N can feel his hard cock press up against her. “You look so pretty baby. And so, fucking dirty. Grinding against some random bloke while I watch, putting on a show for me.”

Y/N is soaking wet at this point, Fred’s words and actions only turning her on further. She pulls his face away from her neck, unable to contain herself anymore. She presses their lips together messily, moaning as Fred’s soft lips move with hers. Their kiss is uncoordinated, but Y/N doesn’t care. “Need you, Freddie. Need you so bad,” she whines into his mouth.

Fred kisses her for a moment longer before he forces himself to pull away. Y/N’s mouth is intoxicating, and he could spend hours just standing there and kissing her. But his cock is aching and Y/N needs him and he can’t deny her anything.

In the blink of an eye Fred has lead them away from the bar and is pushing Y/N up against the closed door of the women’s toilets. He presses their lips together hungrily as he grabs her thigh, hitching it around his waist to give him access to her core.

Y/N moans into Fred’s mouth as they kiss, his right hand gripping her thigh tightly while the other trails up her other leg towards her pussy. A smirk forms on her lips as Fred’s hand inches closer to where she needs him most, knowing that he’s about to discover her little secret.

“You dirty little slut,” Fred growls as he breaks their kiss. He had planned on teasing Y/N by softly rubbing her clit through her panties, but when he finally reached her folds he was met with her dripping entrance. He rubs her exposed clit with his thumb, causing Y/N to let out a long whine. “Look at you. Trying to fool everyone in your little white dress. Pretending you’re so innocent while your pussy is bare, anyone able to get a glance.”

Y/N is barely able to speak, her breath coming out in hard pants as Fred toys with her clit, his index finger beginning to slowly circle her entrance, just barely letting the tip of his finger enter her heat. She opens her mouth to respond, but a moan comes out instead as Fred finally lets his index finger sink fully into her.

“Is that what you were hoping for? Hm?” Fred asks as he curls his finger, smiling when Y/N clenches around him. “Hoping someone else would get a flash of your sweet pussy? Hoping someone else would notice and get a turn with you before me?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, her mouth running dry as Fred adds another finger. Her fingers dig into Fred’s shoulders to try and steady herself as his thumb starts to rub her clit harder. “N-no,” she manages to stutter out a few seconds later when she remembers how to speak. “Did it for you. Only for you. Only want you.”

Fred buries his face in Y/N’s neck to hide the blush that has started to tint his cheeks. Even though they’ve never defined their relationship Fred knows that Y/N doesn’t see anyone else while they’re apart and he doesn’t either. But hearing that she only wants him makes him want to say things he’s felt since he was 15 years old. So he presses kisses into the hot skin of her neck instead, because it’s not appropriate to tell someone you love them for the first time while you fingerfuck them in the bathroom of a club.

“’M close,” Y/N breaths, one of her hands leaving Fred’s shoulder to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. She can feel her climax approaching quickly, and with one more curl of Fred’s fingers against her sweet spot she’s tumbling over the edge, Fred’s name falling from her mouth.

Fred fingers continue their movements, his touch much lighter and slower to help her through her climax. When Y/N’s breathing has somewhat returned to normal Fred slowly removes his fingers and presses one more kiss to her neck so he can look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed red and her lips are swollen.

“God you’re so beautiful,” Fred whispers, kissing her deeply once again. He pulls away a moment later, pressing their foreheads together. He’s painfully aware of how hard he is in his trousers and he grinds against Y/N’s bum, trying to get some kind of relief.

Y/N giggles at Fred’s actions, bumping their foreheads together lightly. “You gonna take me home and fuck me? Or should I go find that bloke from earlier and see if he’ll give it to me?” she teases.

Without another word Fred is gripping her tightly and apperating them away.

As soon as they land in Y/N’s flat Fred reattaches their lips, keeping it slow and intimate. Now that the rushed part of their evening is over Fred wants to take his time with her. He moves them to her bedroom slowly, Y/N’s fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

They reach her bed just as Y/N has worked the last button of Fred’s shirt, and he breaks their kiss so he can lightly push her back onto the bed. He rids himself of his shirt before he crawls over Y/N and reattaches their lips in a heated kiss. He grabs one of her knees and pulls her legs apart, settling in between them.

“Take this off,” Fred demands, his hands tugging at the hem of her dress. “ I wanna see all of you.” As Y/N takes of her dress Fred fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing it before moving on to his trousers. He falls back onto the bed so he can kick the rest of his clothing off, his cock finally getting some relief from its tight confines.

Before Fred can crawl back on top of Y/N she’s straddling his waist. She acts as if she’s going to kiss him, but at the last second she turns her attention to his neck and starts peppering kisses along the exposed skin.

Fred’s hands come up and grip Y/N’s hips tightly. “You’re such a tease.”

Y/N laughs into Fred’s neck as she kisses it, causing Fred to chuckle as well. While there are many parts of a healthy sex life Fred loves and enjoys, kissing is certainly in his top 3; which Y/N is fully aware of. They had once spent over an hour in one of Hogwarts’ secret passageways with Y/N pressed up against the wall as their lips moved together. It was one of the first times they had met in secret, and Fred still gets butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about it. Which he does far more often than he’d like to admit.

Fred lets her kiss and suck at his neck for a few moments longer before he flips them over, causing Y/N to squeal both in delight and surprise. Fred bites at her shoulder momentarily before he starts to peck her lips several times.

“I was gonna ride you ya know,” Y/N says with a soft laugh in between kisses. Fred laughs as well, one of his hands coming up to cup Y/N’s cheek while the other starts to massage one of her breasts, his thumb teasing her nipple. “Fuck, Freddie. Feels so good,” she moans.

Fred pulls away from her slightly so he can look Y/N in the eyes. “You do look exceptionally pretty when you sit on my cock, my love.” Fred pauses, his thumb rubbing her cheek as a pink blush spreads across it. “But tonight, I want- no I need.” Fred’s sentence is cut short as Y/N grabs him by the neck and brings their lips together.

She kisses him slow, letting Fred take the lead and lick into her mouth. Y/N doesn’t need Fred to finish his sentence, she already knows what he was trying to say, because she feels the same way. After an evening full of teasing and putting on a show for each other there’s nothing either of them want more than to be close to one and other.

“Please, Freddie,” Y/N begs as Fred’s fingers begin to pinch at her other nipple.

Without another word Fred hitches Y/N’s left leg up on his hip and lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly with a roll of his hips, both of them letting out low moans. Fred doesn’t stop moving until he’s fully buried inside her, his lips coming up to suck at the skin just below her earlobe.

“Feel so good, baby. Always feel so good. Oh God-,” Fred’s words cut off with a groan as Y/N clenches around him. Fred rests his forehead against hers so he can look her in the eyes. He pulls out of Y/N halfway before he pushes back in, slowly starting to fuck her. “God I love you.”

Before Fred has a chance to regret what he’s said Y/N is kissing him hungrily, her hips moving to meet Fred’s thrusts. She breaks their kiss to let out a whine as Fred’s thumb starts to rub slow circles on her clit in time with his thrusts.

“Merlin that feels good,” she breaths, tilting her chin up to kiss Fred briefly. “Not gonna last much longer,” she moans.

Fred speeds up his thrusts as he hitches Y/N’s leg higher on his hip so that he’s hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. “Me either, love. Come for me baby.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N is coming, her toes curling and nails scratching down Fred’s back from the pleasure as she moans his name. Her walls spasm and clench against Fred’s cock, helping him to reach his climax. Her moans are cut off by Fred kissing her deeply as he reaches his own high, emptying himself into Y/N.

Fred slows his thrusts down, helping them both come down from their highs, his mouth still moving against Y/N’s softly. After a few final thrusts he slowly pulls out, and rolls onto his back, his hands gripping Y/N’s waist so that she rolls with him and their kiss doesn’t break.

They just lay there kissing for a few minutes, Y/N’s hands tangled in Fred’s hair while his hands rub circles on her hips. Y/N pulls away first, her breathing heavy and her cheeks flushed red. Fred smiles at her and brings one of his hands up to stroke her hair.

They sit there for a few moments in silence, just looking at each other. Fred feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest as he studies Y/N’s familiar features. After tonight he’s more sure than he’s ever been, he doesn’t want to spend another moment with out her in his life.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Fred says quietly, not wanting to disturb their peaceful moment.

Y/N kisses him briefly. “That I look pretty sitting on your cock? ‘Cause I’ve known that for ages,” she teases.

“Well yes I did mean that,” Fred says with a chuckle before kissing her again. “But that’s not what I was talking about. And it’s okay if you-”

He’s about to say something else, when Y/N lurches forward to kiss him. “I love you too you idiot. Always have.”

When Y/N wakes up the next morning and turns over she’s disappointed that Fred isn’t in bed next to her. While they never usually spent the night together, last night had been different and she had fallen asleep last night dreaming of what round three would consist of in the morning.

Y/N is halfway through cursing Fred out in her head when she notices an envelope sitting on the pillow Fred’s head had been cradled against only a few hours ago. She grabs it, letting her finger trace over her name written in Fred’s messy scrawl on the outside before she tears it open.

My flat. Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that and every single day for the rest of forever. 6 pm.

Love you forever and always.

Y/N scans her eyes over the words several times, letting Fred’s message sink in. She smiles to herself as she falls back against her pillows, her hear swelling with more love than she ever thought possible. “Game over.”

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley smut #Fred Weasley x reader #harry potter #golden #fw #Harry Potter fanfiction #Harry Potter imagine

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

An Ocean Away - Harry Styles

Sequel to Tastes Like Strawberries 🍓 !

a/n: ahhh! thank you so much for the love you showed TLS! i already had more planned for the story, but all your comments motivated me to do this part 2! it’s an emotional one so brace yourselves! further in the chapter i placed the song that inspired the title and i listened to it while writing so i suggest you do the same!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 12.7k

masterlist

You walk down the familiar hallway texting back Eden that you are not spending the night at home again.

Eden: You really need to tell me about the dick that keeps you so busy these days.

Y/N: I never said a thing about any dick.

Eden: Oh please, you surely got yourself a rebound after Harry, you can’t tell me otherwise.

Y/N: Don’t you get a rebound when you broke up with someone? I was never together with Harry, so it doesn’t make sense.

Eden: You had a thing!! Okay, whatever. Keep your little secrets, I guess it’s fine…

Y/N: Love you!

Chuckling to yourself you put the phone away and stop at the door you know all too well, knocking two times before you open it and poke your head inside.

Harry is sitting at his desk, his reading glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he is vigorously scribbling something down into his notebook. He lifts his head at your arrival and you shut the door closed behind you.

“Hello, professor,” you smile at him teasingly, walking around his desk as he pushes himself back a little so you can sit on his lap, pecking his lips gently.

“Hey, done for the day?” he asks, his fingers tenderly stroking your thighs over the fabric of your jeans.

“Yeah. We can leave if you’re done,” you nod.

“Just a few more minutes, alright?”

“Sure,” you nod, standing up from his lap so he can finish his work while you sit on the little loveseat he has in the corner, right under the window.

It’s been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, the new semester has officially started, you’re working your way towards your degree as this is officially your last semester, but what’s more important that you and Harry have been a couple for six weeks following the heated actions of New Year’s Eve.

Harry is still quite anxious about the whole thing, always on high alert and he even asked you to lie to Eden and Nat too. You tried to fight him on that, but you could tell how much he wanted to protect what you had so you decided to feed them this elaborate story about how you and Harry had a fight on New Year’s Eve and realized that it would have never worked out so you agreed to stay just friends. It seems like they believed, because they’ve been keen on trying to set you up with someone while you just keep dodging their attempts, sneaking around with Harry behind their back.

Other than the continuous lying and sneaking around, things have been going well with him. You’ve been spending a lot of time at his place, the only hiding spot where you can be carefree around each other without always watching out for others around you.

Today is Valentine’s day and though your opportunities to celebrate are very slim, having anything that’s slightly public crossed out of the list, that still doesn’t stop the two of you from having a good night in.

You watch him curiously as he is reading the lines of someone’s essay probably, or some test, whatever. Holding the pen ready to use whenever he finds something incorrect, he furrows his eyebrows at something before crossing out a line, mouthing the words he writes to the side of the page. He doesn’t wear his glasses that often, but he’s been complaining about having dry eyes these past days so it’s no surprised he switched to them from his contact lenses.

“You look sexy in your glasses, have I told you that?”

He glances at you, a small smirk tugging on his lips before he returns to the paper in front of him.

“Think they make me look older,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Nah, not more at least than your grandpa sweaters,” you tease him, earning a ‘Really? This again?’ look from him that makes you chuckle.

You busy yourself while Harry finishes his work and then you head out together, strictly keeping the distance between each other. Walking out of the building Harry heads to the left where the car park is while you take a turn to the right. It’s been your usual, since you can’t have anyone see you get into Harry’s car so casually, so you usually walk down to the small café near Building D, because there’s a very narrow little street running behind it where you can get into the car without anyone noticing you. You do the same now too before finally heading back to Harry’s place. Sinking into the comfortable seat, you stare out the window, thinking about how it’s just been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, but it feels like you’ve been together with Harry for months. Despite his many doubts and hesitant act, it was easy to fall into a kind of routine with him, and even more easier to get used to the thought that he is yours and you are his.

During these six weeks you’ve learned quite a few things about him, things women on campus would die to know and they were handed over to you on a silver plate by Harry himself.

One, he is a very touchy person, of course, when he has the chance for it. In the safety of his home or when you have a few minutes for yourselves in his office, he always likes to have his hand on your back or waist, he loves touching your hips or cheeks, caressing the skin wherever it shows from under your clothes. He is also very cuddly, likes to wrap you in his arms when you’re watching TV and when it’s time to sleep the first thing he does is to pull you into his embrace. You usually wake up in the morning with him completely wrapped around you, limbs thrown over you, face buried into your chest or stomach. He is a messy sleeper, but also a fucking adorable one.

Two, he is a good cook but not that good at baking. He says it’s the universe’s sign that he shouldn’t eat as much sweet stuff as he does, but in reality he just sucks at measuring the ingredients. He never follows the recipe, easily goes with things his own way and then he is surprised when it doesn’t turn out as it should.

Three, he notices the smallest things you’d never. Like how you hate it when the Sun is shining right into your face so he always makes sure to draw the blinds in the evening, or that you prefer sleeping with more pillows so he just simply gives you an extra without even asking every time you’re spending the night. He cares so much about you to the smallest details, it always makes your heart flutter.

And four, though he keeps a tough act in school, he is a lovesick puppy when no one is around, likes to be the small spoon when cuddling, absolutely adores it when you cup his face in your palms and kiss it all over. Loves it when you play with his hair or when you hug him from behind, kissing between his shoulder blades. He always tells you how pretty you are and never misses a chance to sneak a kiss from you. You couldn’t imagine him do any of these before you really knew him, but now you see that all these little things are just as much parts of him like the version of him he shows at school. You feel lucky to be able to see him like this and you’ll probably never get bored of it.

Arriving to his place you drop your bag off at the bedroom before you join him in the kitchen, already eyeing the flyer to the nearby Italian place that delivers.

“How about pizza?” he hums, eyebrows knitted together as he scans the menu.

“Sounds good. Can we order dessert too?” Walking past him you kiss his shoulder before grabbing a glass for yourself, filling it with tap water.

“Oh, no need,” he shyly answers, glancing at you. “We… have dessert.”

You watch him with curious eyes as he disappears in his little study before emerging with a plate filled with pink cupcakes. They look wobbly, the cream on top is not the same on either of them, but because you know he made them, they are the most perfect you’ve ever seen.

He places the plate to the counter with a shy smile before turning to you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, hands finding your hips as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Oh baby, did you stay up last night to make these?” you ask, touched that he took the time and energy to surprise you with something. Harry nods and you kiss his dimples softly.

“Mm, they are strawberry flavored,” he smirks boyishly.

“We are never escaping strawberries,” you chuckle softly as you dip your fingertip into the cream on top of one of the cakes, tasting it. “Hmm, this is actually good,” you tell him.

“Yeah, the cream is kind of okay, dunno about the rest though,” he admits chuckling.

“As long as it’s not poisonous, I’ll love it,” you giggle kissing his lips again softly. “Alright, but I can’t go over the fact that we agreed on no gifts for Valentine’s Day,” you say giving him a look.

“S’not a gift, just… a little gesture,” he shrugs innocently.

“Okay, then you can’t get mad over my little gesture,” you smirk at him, peeling his arms off you before you run into his bedroom to get his gift.

You really weren’t planning to give him anything, but you had a good idea last minute and couldn’t just not do it. Digging into your bag you pull out the little box and join him in the kitchen again, handing it to him.

“It’s not fair if you spent money on it,” he pouts, but you just roll your eyes.

“You spent money on the cupcakes too. But besides, I didn’t spent a penny on it. Open it!” You urge him.

Harry huffs but takes the lid off, revealing a stack of Polaroid photos. In this not too ideal situation the two of you are living in, there’s no chance you can ever post anything about him, even though there are quite a few cute photos of you with Harry. Eden recently bought a Polaroid printer and you borrowed it to print your favorite pictures of the two of you. There’s one from the morning after New Year’s Eve, just a silly selfie you took in bed, then one with the band from Harry’s birthday recently, a photo of the two of you backstage of one of his gigs you took in the mirror, he has his guitar in his hands as you stand next to him smiling widely. There are a few more with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte and Adam and at the very end of the stack… some special ones.

You watch him go through them smiling warmly until he reaches the last few and freezes. You took the courage to take a few spicy ones of yourself in your favorite lingerie and thought it would be sexy to print them out as well and give them to him.

“I hope you’re not thinking about selling them already,” you chuckle. Harry glances up at you before shaking his head with a playful smirk.

“Was just a little surprised by them,” he admits.

“Do you… like them?”

“Oh baby, I love them, you look… wow,” he breathes out going over the pictures one more time. “But I’m gonna have to lock these away so no one finds them. Adam likes to go over my stuff when he is over, I definitely don’t want him to find them.”

“You better keep them safe because if anyone sees them I’m burying myself,” you snort.

Harry puts the stack of photos back into the box before leaning down he cups your face and kisses you gently.

“Thank you, love the pictures. All of them,” he adds cheekily and you feel yourself blushing.

He leans in to kiss you again, putting the box aside to the counter and this time it’s not just one short kiss, he carries it on, taking his time with your lips, savoring and tasting you without a worry in the world. It grows more and more passionate, tongues clashing and you tug at his hair, lacing your fingers through his locks, a moan escaping his pink lips.

You start inching backwards until your backside meets the edge of the counter. Harry doesn’t hesitate to pull your sweater off of you, throwing it behind before his lips are pressed against yours again. It doesn’t take long for his shirt and pants and your jeans to end up on the floor somewhere behind him, leaving you both in just your underwear. You kiss down his neck and collarbones, your lips gliding across his tattooed chest as you slowly slide down to your knees, hands moving over his growing bulge.

Hooking your fingers into the elastic of his boxers, you tug them down and pull his erection out, already so hard for you and you barely even touched him.

“What does my Valentine deserve for making me cupcakes?” you hum, teasingly pumping him a few times with your hands. Harry whimpers under your touch, but doesn’t answer so you stop your hands and look up at him. “Talk to me, what do you want?”

“Your mouth,” he breathes out, his eyes meeting yours, filled with lust and hunger only for you. Smirking to yourself you lick his length up before gently kissing the head, swirling your tongue around the tip before you slowly take him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby!” he pants when you start bobbing your head, pumping the base in sync with your head’s movements.

His hand comes to the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair. He doesn’t force you, he never does, just likes to hold onto you. You try to take him deeper and deeper with each movement until you fit his whole cock into your mouth, keeping it there for a few seconds before pulling away and letting him go.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, helping you up from the floor, kissing your lips hard as he is already pulling your panties down your legs. “How do you want it?”

“From behind,” you tell without hesitation, turning around so you can lean onto the counter and push your ass up for him.

You feel one of his hands stroke down your spine while the other one reaches between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, drawing gentle circles on it at first before he goes a little harder, making you moan his name.

“Harry, please!” you beg, the need to feel him growing with each passing second.

He pulls his hand back, grabbing his hard cock as he lines himself up with you, one hand on his shaft, the other one holding your hip firmly to keep you in place. First he pushes just the tip inside and when he is sure you’re ready to take more, he slides all of him inside, filling you up perfectly.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good. Always so good,” he breathes out, both his hands coming to grip your waist as his hips meet your ass from behind.

He starts moving, going a little soft at the beginning before he gets rougher, his hips smacking against your ass with each thrust. You arch your back and push your ass up so you’re angled just perfectly for him, he runs a hand up your back, sliding it under the clasp of your bra and he leaves it there while fucking you from behind oh so well.

“Harry, oh my God!” you groan when he starts hitting that one spot that makes you go crazy.

“Feeling good, baby?”

“Fuck! So good!” you gasp, feeling the pleasure building up with each thrust. “Go harder!” you beg and once he has both hands on your hips again he does as you asked, railing into you hard, making you keep gasping for air.

“Getting close? Tell me when you’re about to cum, baby.”

“I’m close, please don’t stop!” you pant, hands holding onto the counter’s edge for dear life.

He reaches around you, a hand coming between your legs as his fingers find your clit again, adding to the sensation as he starts playing with it just the way you like it.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum! Harry!” you moan uncontrollably and he growls deeply from his chest.

“Cum with me, baby. Give it to me,” he breathes out sharply and he just keeps railing you hard, fingers working on your clit until he feels your walls clench around his dick. “Oh fuck, yes, baby! Cum on my cock!” he gasps and at the same time as you go through your orgasm, you feel him twitch inside you, coming hard with you at the same time. “Jesus fuck! I love you, Y/N!”

You gasp at his words, eyes snapping open in the middle of your orgasm and all air pushes out of your lungs for a moment.

He whimpers and moans, thrusting into you a few more times before he comes to a halt, both of you panting like crazy, coming off your high. When he slowly slides his softening cock out of you, you turn around and look into his eyes. For a moment you thought he just said it in the heat of the moment and he didn’t even realize it, but when your eyes meet his, you can tell he is a little afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“Did you mean that?” you quietly ask as he tucks his dick back into his boxers, pulling them up, but you don’t bother to put your underwear back on, standing there in only your bra.

“I-I did. I didn’t mean to say it now, but I did mean it,” he nods. “Is it… too soon?”

“No,” you smile at him, stepping closer so you can cup his face in your palms, kissing his lips softly. “I love you too.”

“You do?” he asks, surprised at your reaction.

“Of course, silly. I wouldn’t give my nudes to someone I don’t,” you joke making him chuckle, his arms coming to curl around your waist.

“Sorry, this wasn’t too… romantic,” he breathes out and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You said you love me while fucking me on Valentine’s Day after exchanging cute gifts. I think it’s romantic,” you chuckle, finally making him smile. “Besides, I don’t care about the setting, just feels nice to hear you say it.”

“Yeah?” “Mhm, care to say it again so I can see your eyes as well?”

“I love you,” he softly murmurs, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yeah, feels better when I can actually look at you,” you chuckle kissing him softly. “I love you too.”

It’s definitely not just fun and games, being in a secret relationship that no one can know about. It surely adds a lot of tension into the situation, having to be so careful all the time and be reserved to the point where you can’t even be seen too often together.

As the semester carries on you always keep your ears open if there’s anything going on about you and Harry. Though you only limit your time together on campus to the bare minimum, only talking on rare occasions, you still want to make sure no one is getting the wrong (or right) idea about what is going on between the two of you.

The worst part is probably having to lie to Eden and Nat all the time. You spend about three nights at Harry’s every week and you have to lie every time you leave. After a while you tell them that you’re dating this new guy but he wants to keep it low-key because he recently broke up with his previous girlfriend. That gives them enough peace not to nag you all the time but you can tell they really want to meet this new man in your life.

You’ve tried to discuss it with Harry, tell him that they won’t tell anyone but it ended in a fight and you kind of gave up. Harry is way too keen on keeping it a secret and it’s clear he is not gonna make any exceptions. At least it’s the same with his friends, the two of you act like just friends when you’re out with the band though you have a suspicion that Sarah can see through the act. However she chooses not to talk about it so it’s kept hidden.

You don’t fight much with Harry, but when you do, it’s major. You both can get really into the argument and it easily gets way too heated, turning into a screaming match until you both realize you should just talk it out and have a little more understanding for each other. The makeup sex after a fight however… that’s something that makes up for every nasty thing that’s said in the heat of the moment.

Nearing the end of the semester you both start to grow more stressed, you about finishing your last classes, your thesis and studying for your finals, Harry about the growing pile of essays and tests waiting to be graded. A lot of the time when you’re at his place you both are busy with your own stuff and only have the chance to actually be with each other when you go to bed. It takes a toll on the both of you, but you’re determined to make it work. Despite the unfortunate nature of how you are forced to maintain your relationship, it’s the healthiest one you’ve ever head and you definitely won’t give up on it too easily.

Though you, Nat and Eden turn in your thesis works mid-April, the semester is still not done for the three of you, the final exams are threateningly close at this point. Spring has officially kicked in, the weather is mostly clear and sunny, allows you to stay outside again and you take advantage of it.

One particular afternoon the three of you are lounging under the pergola, all three of you buried in a book or your notes when you spot Harry walking towards the building. You keep your eyes on him as he slowly approaches you, his gaze meets yours and he smiles at you shortly. It’s all you can get out in the public, but it’s more than nothing.

“Isn’t it hard to see him?” Eden asks and glancing her way you see that she is looking at Harry who is now busy with his phone.

“Why would it be?”

“I don’t know, you clearly had a thing for him and it wasn’t even just a one-sided flirting like every other women had with him. I couldn’t be around him if it happened to me.”

“It’s not like anything major happened. It was all bad timing and the situation wasn’t good. It’s better this way,” you tell her, trying to sound convincing while the guilt is eating you on the inside. All these lies are clouding over your head and you have a feeling they will come down on you pouring one day.

“Still crazy that you are friends with his friends though,” Nat chimes in, squinting her eyes in the sunshine.

“Yeah, you are literally the only person on campus who gets to see him in his private life,” Eden nods. If only they knew how much you see him privately!

“It’s not that crazy,” you shrug, turning back to your book.

You all get back to work, forgetting about Harry, or at least Nat and Eden does, because you get a text from him shortly after he disappeared in the building.

Harry: You look very pretty today :)

Y/N: Flirting with me on campus, professor?

Harry: Can’t help it.

Y/N: You look handsome too, it’s a shame I can’t kiss you stupid!

Harry: Patience!

“Y/N? Did you hear what I said?” Nat grabs your attention from the phone and you realize she was talking to you.

“What? Uh, sorry.”

“I said that we should go out this weekend. It’s been ages since we last did anything other than studying.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Don’t come with your usual, rambling about how we shouldn’t have any fun before we finish,” Eden rolls her eyes.

“That’s not what I say. I just think that we have priorities.”

“I don’t know about you, but it’s a priority for me to have fun, so I’m down for a night out.

“I think I’m passing,” you mumble. You already made plans for the weekend with Harry, take a hike up the hills since the weather has been nice and it would be great to spend time together outside the house. The hiking routes are far away enough from town that uni students don’t like to take the hustle to drive all the way out so you’ll be fine being together outside.

“If you want to say that you have something planned with your mystery man, don’t even bother. If it’s not his birthday, we are overruling him,” Eden scoffs and you roll your eyes at her.

“Just go without me.”

“That’s not the same!” Nat whines. “Come on, Y/N. For once choose us!”

“That’s rude I choose you guys a lot of times!”

“Not since you’ve been spending half your life with some man and the other half in the library.”

“Yeah, we feel abandoned!” Nat pouts at you, trying to make you feel bad and in all honesty, she is succeeding.

“We can doll ourselves up, have fancy cocktails and all that, it’s gonna be fun! Come on, just one night! I can’t take another Saturday sitting in my room, reading my notes,” Eden growls and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I guess I’m in,” you mumble and your friends start cheering as if you just declared that men and women are going to get paid equally from now on.

You can tell Harry is bummed that you have to cancel your weekend plans, but he is also trying to be understanding.

“I couldn’t bring up a relevant argument so they made me say yes,” you growl when later that day you’re cuddling on his couch after dinner.

“S’fine,” he sighs, leaning down he pecks your lips shortly.

“Wish I could just tell them that I had plans with you,” you breathe out.

“Y/N…” “I know!” you roll your eyes. “It’s just that it would be nice if I could at least tell them the truth.”

“We already talked about this,” he sighs.

“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that it bothers me,” you point out. “Am I not allowed to feel that way?”

“You are, I just don’t get why you keep bringing it up when there’s literally nothing I can do about it,” he retorts.

“Well there is, you just choose not to.” And with that, you officially pick another fight with him.

It’s not that you enjoy fighting with him, not at all, but the situation is so not ideal and you find his overprotectiveness a little too much at times. You don’t understand why you can’t share it with your two closest friends. You could at least tell Sarah or the other guys, have anyone know about the two of you, but literally no one on Earth knows that you are a couple and it’s bugging you way more than it probably should.

“Why are you so damn keen on making others know about us? What does that have to do with anything?” he growls throwing his hands into the air, standing in the opposite end of the room as you keep pacing the floor, the urge to keep on moving taking over you.

“Because—“ you snap, but stop yourself. You know if you say it out loud, he’ll think you’re stupid.

“Because what?!”

“Because i-it makes me feel like we are not even real! I can’t talk about us, I can’t touch you outside of this house, no one knows we are a thing and it’s so fucking nerve-wrecking, Harry!” you break down, feeling your throat closing up. You didn’t mean to get emotional over this, but you’ve been bottling it up for a while now.

Harry’s shoulder fall forward as he sees the change in you, the heat of the fight long forgotten. He crosses the room, hands reaching up to cup your face in his palms, his thumbs running across the soft skin under your eyes as he wipes the tears away.

“Baby, I know. You think I don’t want to show you off? I want to hold your hand and just take a walk with you, kiss you whenever I want to, show all the horny fratboys on campus that you’re taken. I know it’s hard, but we really don’t have a choice until the end of the semester.”

He gently kisses the tip of your nose before pulling you to his chest, your arms circle around his waist as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, trying to stop your sobs.

“I’m sorry. I really wish it was all different,” he murmurs, kissing into your hair softly.

“No, I’m sorry for bitching about this all the time. I knew what we were getting into,” you exhale sharply. “It just… really sucks.”

“It does. But we just have to be patient.”

You manage to put the fight behind and move on in peace, but a tiny thought remains buzzing in the very back of your mind. What happens when you finish school? Will it all be different? Harry will still be a professor and if people see you around together, they will know you were one of his students. What’s gonna be the difference? If he is so on edge now, something is telling you he won’t be changing dramatically and it concerns you. A lot.

Not willingly, but you go out with Nat and Eden on Saturday. You go to a place that’s quite popular between students, you can most likely always find familiar faces from lecture halls and classes. It’s close to campus and more on the cheap side, the perfect spot for uni students for a night of fun.

As expected, you run into some people from school and they invite the three of you to sit with them at their table which comes in handy, because there’s no empty place by the time you arrive.

One drink follows the other and you easily get tipsy especially because you skipped on dinner before heading out. Though you weren’t in the mood for tonight, you find yourself enjoying the conversation and the company. It really has been long since the last time you went out with the girls and it’s nice to spend some time with them without the books and notes.

A debate starts about whose course one of the boys, Jace should take next semester.

“Professor Peltz is fucking boring, dude,” Nat growls, taking a sip from her drink. “Had him last semester, I could barely stay awake during his lectures.”

“Yeah, but they say he gives good grades easily,” Jace argues.

“Okay, but who else can you choose from again?” Lydia, a girl who lived a few doors down from you when you lived in a dormitory your first year.

“Um, Professor Makley and Professor Styles.”

You freeze at the mention of Harry, especially upon hearing Lydia’s reaction.

“Jace, choose Professor Styles! He is so fucking hot!”

“Not that it matters to me, Lyd,” Jace chuckles.

“Oh come on, I know even guys think he is hot.”

You feel like an intruder in the conversation, keeping quiet as you listen to her rave about how hot she finds Harry. It’s like you are eavesdropping on something that wasn’t meant for your ears, but it’s just the guilt bubbling inside you once again, because you know you won’t be able to say a word without having to lie.

“She has a point,” another guy, Garrett chimes into the conversation. “The man is handsome and I’m not even ashamed to admit it.”

“See?” Lydia chuckles. “He is sexy and smart, the whole package. I’ve been daydreaming about him since first year.”

You catch Eden’s look, but you just busy yourself with gulping from your vodka cranberry, feeling uncomfortable in the situation but not even for the reason she thinks. Eden must think it’s weird because you had an actual thing with Harry, but the truth is… that thing is still very much ongoing.

“I would let that man do whatever he wants with me,” Lydia adds sighing longingly, and you are having a hard time to hold your tongue. Unfortunately, you don’t succeed.

“Not sure he wants anything to do with you,” you mumble into your drink and though you hoped your comment would stay unnoticed, but you are out of luck.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Lydia slyly replies, a bit too full of herself for your liking. Yes, she is pretty and definitely doesn’t have problem with guys, but she is a little too confident about Harry if you’re being honest.

“I’m sorry?” you ask with a soft, bit annoyed chuckle.

“I’m just saying that we’ll never know who he finds attractive, because we all know he keeps himself so far from his students.”

“Yeah, maybe because he is not interested in any of his students,” you point out.

“As if he would ever make a move on any of us,” she snorts and you are losing your temper. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, because now you really can’t hold your tongue.

“You can never know, Lydia. You can’t know if he acts the way he does because he is just trying to be professional or because he is, and consider this, not interested in you. Maybe he would actually act up on his feelings but you’re just not his type.”

Your comment is more like just a harsh comeback to Lydia’s words, but Nat and Eden kind of catch on that something is up with you. Ignoring their questioning looks you chug down your drink and soon excuse yourself to get some fresh air. No surprise that they follow you like puppies.

“Girl, what was that inside?” Nat asks as the three of you stand near the entrance of the bar, a few smoking guests littering the area.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you mumble, clearly avoiding to look at any of them, wrapping your arms around your upper body as if you were trying to keep your shit together physically.

“You snapped at Lydia for saying Professor Styles might have a thing for her,” Eden points out, but you just bite the inside of your cheeks.

“Because it was bullshit.”

“Why does that matter to you? Not that you’re together with him or something,” Nat argues and you roll your lips into your mouth, trying to keep a straight face but they know you way better than that. They gasp at the same time, Eden grabbing your forearm forcefully that makes you scowl.

“Hey! That hurts!” you whine, but she couldn’t care less.

“Are you fucking around with Professor Styles?” Nat whisper yells at you, eyes wider than ever.

“I mean… we’re not fucking around,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes as you kick the dirt around. “We’re kinda serious.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Eden snaps, drawing some attention at her and you let out an awkward chuckle at the glances the three of you get. “Are you fucking joking right now?”

“No, I am… not,” you admit, feeling a little relieved that you finally said it, but you also feel like you let Harry down with it.

“How long?” Nat questions in shock.

“Since New Year’s Eve. So… almost four months.”

“So he is the one you’ve been seeing all this time? The guy you didn’t want to talk about?”

“Um, yeah. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about him, we just agreed that it’s safer if no one knows.”

“I’m speechless, Y/N,” Eden shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t fucking believe you kept it from us for this long!”

“I know, I felt so shitty, but it’s such a complicated situation, it’s so risky, we don’t want it to ruin us.”

“Obviously,” Nat nods understandingly. “And now I see why you snapped so harshly at Lydia.”

“I just couldn’t stand her talking like that. You guys have no idea how hard it is to keep every fucking thought to myself.”

“Why do I have a feeling it has a little more to it than to just Lydia drooling over Harry?” Nat arches an eyebrow at you, folding her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you’ve been oddly tensed lately,” Eden agrees.

“It’s just pretty stressful to have a secret relationship, it causes a lot of tension. And I’ve been… I’m not sure anything is going to change after I graduate, if I’m being honest.”

“What do you mean?” Nat asks.

“I just…” you sigh, all your thoughts you kept to yourself flooding back to you at once, overwhelming you in a situation that’s already a bit too much to handle. “We keep saying that it’s gonna change when I graduate, but I don’t see it. He is so overprotective and even if I graduate, people will find out that I was once his student. And it might not be against the rules anymore, but we’ll be judged. I didn’t think it through before, but it’s now starting to be more and more clear for me and I just… don’t know if we can make it work.”

You feel the tears forming in your eyes, you’ve been keeping this to yourself for way too long now and saying it out loud just broke the dam. When Nat and Eden sees your lips trembling and the watery eyes you’re trying to blink away, they don’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug.

“Aw, don’t cry! It makes me want to cry too!” Nat chuckles softly as they sandwich you between them.

“It just sucks so much, because I love him, but I feel like we met at the wrong time and place,” you sob, letting them crush you.

“It happens, baby. It happens. You’ll figure it out!” Eden kisses your forehead before they let go of you. “Want to go home?”

“It’s still early, don’t want to kill the party. I think I’ll just… head over to Harry’s for now. Is that okay?”

“Of course, do whatever makes you feel better,” Nat assures you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry I was such a party pooper.”

You call yourself an Uber and text Harry that you are going over. Twenty minutes later you are walking up the stairs to his house and he opens the front door before you could even reach for the doorknob.

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out softly and you don’t say a word, just wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Hey, what happened? Didn’t have a good time with your friends?” He delicately caresses your hair, walking the two of you inside so he can close the door before wrapping both his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

“Don’t really want to talk about it,” you mumble and it’s the truth. You’re tired of these thoughts though you know you should talk to him about how you’ve been feeling about the two of you lately. Part of you is hoping something will just magically solve the whole situation and you won’t have to deal with it yourself.

Harry makes you a tea while you take a shower and once you are both in bed, you cuddle to his side while he reads some. You are just genuinely enjoying his closeness, because despite everything that’s been haunting you in connection with Harry, you really love this man. Like no one else before and the possibility of the two of you not making it long term scares you more than it probably should.

The next few weeks come and go in a sense of numbness. Following your emotional breakdown in front of the bar, you kind of push the whole thing to the back of your mind once again, putting all your focus on finishing school. Neither you nor Harry has the energy to put up more fights though you both can feel there’s a lot to talk about, but the end of the semester is just keeping you both way too busy to acknowledge the problems waiting on the corner.

At least there’s one less weight on your shoulders now that Nat and Eden know about you and Harry. You made them swear to their life they won’t tell anyone and you trust them to keep this heavy secret. They’ve been very supportive of the two of you, interrogated you one evening about everything that happened so far, they wanted to make sure Harry treats you the right way. No surprise, he does.

A few weeks before your state exam Harry extends his contract with the school to have him as a professor for another academic year so he is able to keep his visa as well.

You spend your last two weeks buried in your notes before your state exam and Harry gives you all the time and space you need, knowing well how much it means to you to earn the best grade possible.

When you are finally over your exam, you are celebrating at his place. He has bought a little cake and some champagne and you can’t wait to finally spend some time with him without having to worry about your studies.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” he smiles at you, clinking his glass against yours.

“Thank you, feels nice to be finally free,” you chuckle before taking a sip from the champagne.

“My smart girl, knew you’d kill all your exams.” He kisses your lips shortly before squeezing your hand. “How about I run a bath for us, we eat the cake in the tub and then we can watch a movie?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you smile at him before he disappears in the bathroom to get everything ready.

Finishing your champagne you wash the glass quickly and you’re about to cut the cake when your phone buzzes signaling that you’ve just gotten an email. As pull down the notification bar your lips part reading the first few lines. You open the whole thing and read through it eagerly.

It’s a job offer, but not just some lame one that also sounds sketchy at the same time. This one is from one of the biggest investigation offices in London and they are offering you a trainee position as a forensic document examiner with a possible secured spot on their team after one year. The money sounds amazing, the position is perfect, just what you’ve been dreaming of once you are done with school and they are looking forward to hear back from you about a possible interview in the near future.

“Alright, bath is coming together nicely, want to cut the ca—Wha’s up?” Harry questions upon returning from the bathroom, finding you staring at your phone’s screen with widened eyes.

“I, uhh—I just got a… a job offer,” you stutter, still rereading the lines, trying to find a sign that tells you it’s just a joke, but it seems completely genuine.

“What? Baby, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” you nod swallowing hard before you look up at him. “It’s in London.”

You watch his face fall from excited and happy to shocked and kind of panicky. You both know what that means, it doesn’t have to be said out loud. Harry just signed another year with the university that’s gonna tie him here for the next 12 months and if you accept the job you’ll be all the way across the world in the UK. Kind of ironic, him, the British guy stuck in the States while you, the American in the relationship, eager to go to the UK.

“That’s… wow. London.”

“Yeah, London,” you nod biting the inside of your cheeks.

“Are you… Are you gonna take it?”

“Well, they want an interview with me, but this is clearly a huge opportunity for me,” you say, not wanting to say the actual words. You feel like saying them would hit you harder than what you can take.

“It clearly is, it’s just that… You want to leave?” he breathes out, eyebrows knitting together.

“This is my only job offer and probably the best I’ll ever get.”

“So you do want to leave,” he forces and it’s pushing your limits.

“Career-wise, of course!” you finally say out loud, unwillingly.

“And what about everything else?”

“I clearly don’t want to leave everything else here, but I will never get a chance like this, Harry. This is the greatest push for someone like me, fresh out of school. I can have a secured spot in a year at a well-respected place. I’m not really in the position to reject offers like this.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly unsure about what to do or say in the situation on his hand. You can tell he has a lot to say, but you’re not sure you want to hear all of them.

“Say something?” you softly plead and his eyes meet yours again, filled with concern.

“I just… It took me by surprise, I guess.”

“I wasn’t expecting it either.”

“No, not the job offer,” he shakes his head.

“Then what?”

“That you are ready to leave so easily. It’s like you never even wanted to discuss a version where you stay here, you just decided that you are leaving and that’s it.”

“Did you hear me? I cannot pass on this opportunity, Harry.”

“I did hear you,” he nods, pressing his lips together. “I heard that you didn’t even think about saying no.”

“Why would I say no?”

“Because I’m here, Y/N!” he snaps. “Good to know that I’m not a factor when it comes to decisions as big as leaving the country!”

“You are, Harry, but I need to think about my future career now. I’m not planning to work at an office for the rest of my life and if I pass on this job I might never get anything as good as this one,” you explain, but it seems like the two of you are having two different conversations.

“But why do I feel like it was never an option for you to stay?”

You give him a confused look. He really doesn’t see your point.

“Okay, why was only I supposed to change plans for us? You coming to London doesn’t feel like an option either, why are you trying to turn this against me?”

“I just extended my contract, you know that.”

“I do, and also, while we are at it, you didn’t ask me about that either. You didn’t even wait for me to figure out what I want to do after school, you just assumed that I would be here, but I never said that.” You can tell it hit him hard in the chest but somehow still, he thinks he is right when he isn’t.

“How could have I known you’d want to move across the globe?” he throws his hands up into the air.

“You’re saying this as if I didn’t just get the email and I’ve been plotting this the whole fucking time!”

“I’m just saying that it’s a huge fucking step and you decided so easily, it says a lot about the nature of our relationship.”

“Why are you saying that?!” you snap at him. “Why are you trying to make me the bad guy?”

“I’m not! I’m just saying that it would have been nice if you at least pretended like it was up for debate. You know what it’ll do to us if you move to London.”

“Then come with me!”

“I can’t!” He raises his voice, clearly losing his temper. “I can’t break my contract and you know that too.”

“Well, I can’t afford to say no to the job either and if I’m being honest, I don’t think we could have made it work even if I stayed.” The words leave your mouth before you could think about them, and the cat is finally out of the bag. It seemingly shocked Harry and he is now staring at you with a blank expression, shoulders falling forward.

“What?” he breathes out and you can actually hear his heart breaking. You take a deep breath and rub your face with your palms, trying to collect your thoughts and not just blurt everything out.

“I’ve been thinking and… Even after I’m officially out of the school, people will know that I was your student if they see us together. And I know how important your reputation is for you so I would never put you through any of the shit we might get for us being together. People would judge, no matter what the situation is. I don’t… I just don’t think we can ever make it work here.”

He stays silent, just stares at you, taking in your words and once again, you wish you could read his mind. You almost start begging him to say something when he finally speaks up.

“So you think we don’t have a chance?”

“Not here… maybe not now. I feel like this has been the perfect example of wrong place, wrong time,” you quietly say, a pang of guilt in your tone, this is not how you planned on making this conversation. To be honest, you wished this never had to come, but you were out of luck.

Harry is awfully silent, it’s all over his face how broken he is and you feel the same. You have so much love for this man, yet fate decided you don’t get to share it with him the way you want.

Walking closer you cup his face in your palms, searching for his eyes until his green irises meet your gaze. You run your thumb across his cheekbones, the pads of your fingers gliding softly over the soft skin. His hands slowly find their way to your waist and he pulls you close to him as you kiss him tenderly, a silent confession about just how much you love him.

“I wanted this to work. I wanted this so badly,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as he keeps you tight in his hold.

“I know. Me too,” you smile at him bitterly.

The rest of the evening passes by silently. You take a bath together, finish the cake anyway though even the sweetness can’t help the pain you both feel. Then you lie in bed for hours, just touching and feeling each other, making the best out of the time you have left. It’s unsaid, but you both know your days together are coming to a close end. Kisses and touches turn into some passionate love making, both of you desperate to feel as close to each other as possible and then you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

If you’re being honest, it’s all a blur following that night. You fix up an interview with London a few days later and they are not shying out of telling you straightforward that they want you there, the job is yours. You have one last short conversation with Harry about you leaving, but it’s more like just a confirmation that yes, it is going to happen and that leaves you with only a few weeks left together before you are packing up to leave the country.

You spend every possible free minute together until graduation where you finally get your degree. Your whole family comes and they cheer on you proudly, Harry standing in the crowd a little farther in the back, but still with a proud smile, a hint of gloominess in his beautiful green eyes. A week later you officially move out of your shared apartment with the girls, it’s a sobbing goodbye since all three of you are leaving in different directions following your graduation. You spend your last two weeks before your departure at home, spending as much time with your family as possible since you won’t be able to see them too often once you leave. Though your mom is dying to take you to the airport to say her final goodbye, you decided to give that time to Harry. He said he would drive to your hometown, pick you up and take you to the airport and you already know it’s gonna turn you into an emotional mess.

Leaving everything behind is hard, but having to say goodbye to Harry is the worst. It’s been a whole emotional rollercoaster for the both of you to get to this point and neither of you are ready to say goodbye, but this is what needs to happen.

That morning, you hug your parents, sister and brother tightly after you load Harry’s car with your two huge suitcases that have your whole life packed in them. You asked your family not to ask any questions about Harry and luckily, they kept quiet the whole time he was there, just treating him as a friend. You couldn’t take having to explain to them who he really is and how you met him, that’s gonna be another conversation for the future when you don’t feel like you’re about to start crying the moment you open your mouth.

The ride to the airport is silent, Harry holds your hand, your glued together palms lying on your lap the whole time. You haven’t even left but you already miss him so much.

Arriving he helps you bring all your stuff inside and patiently waits until you check your baggage in, leaving you with just your carry-on. Standing near the security check, the final moment finally comes and as soon as you look into his eyes you start bawling your eyes out.

“Oh baby, come ‘ere,” he breathes out, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I told you we would make everything right, but I couldn’t,” you sob into his chest as he holds you tight. You feel like if he let go of you, you’d just turn into a puddle at his feet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he soothes you, his fingers threading through your hair.

“But it feels like it was,” you choke out. Harry leans back and takes your puffy cheeks between his warm palms, looking deep into your eyes.

“It wasn’t. As you said, it was just a matter of wrong time and place. But I think we brought the best out of it.”

“So… you don’t regret it?” you softly ask, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Absolutely not,” he smiles at you kindly. “I loved every moment of it. And I love you.” You notice how he didn’t use past tense when he said he loves you and you can’t decide if it aches your heart more or fills you with joy. A little bit both of them.

“I love you too,” you whisper before pressing your lips against his, savoring them one last time before you leave everything behind.

“Maybe we’ll meet again,” he smiles sweetly when he pulls back, tugging your hair behind your ear with a gentle move.

“I really hope,” you chuckle through your tears. “Take care, Harry,” you tell him, pecking his lips just once more.

“You too, baby,” he smiles, his hands falling to his sides as he lets go of you.

Turning around you walk into security and as you go with the line towards the gates, you glance back one last time. Harry is standing in the exact same spot, eyes glued to you as he watches you disappear from his sight.

youtube

It feels like the meeting is never coming to its end. You exchange a look with Jasmine, who seems just as tired and done with this two hours long discussion as you are. She grabs her phone from the table and you watch her something type out before she eyes at your device, signaling that she just texted you.

Jas: I need alcohol after this day. Want to have a drink with me after work?

Y/N: YES PLEASE!!!!!!!

You see her smile at her screen before both of you return to your boss at the front, talking about a possible upcoming case.

“And last but not least, I want to take a moment to bring light to the excellent work Y/N, our new full-time colleague did on the Santiago case. The police were highly satisfied with the fast and precise work you did. This was your first official case since you’ve decided to accept our offer to become a full member of our team and transferred from your position as a trainee. Congrats!” William, your boss nods in your way with a proud smile as a round of applause cheers for you from your colleagues.

“You go girl!” Jasmine mouths you from across the table and you just chuckle shaking your head.

The meeting finally wraps up and everyone goes on with their day. You are walking back to your office with Jasmine by your side. Your offices are next to each other and you started working here just three weeks apart. She is the same age as you and was approached the same way as well, it’s just that she moved all the way from Australia. The two of you have grown quite close, starting a new life at the same time in a foreign country, it easily brought you together.

“So are we leaving early for those drinks or what?” she asks poking your side.

“How early?”

“I don’t know, like fifteen minutes? Come on, it’s Friday, everyone leaves early!” You shake your head chuckling at her. She can be so restless sometimes, but it’s just the right amount that she can push you out of the comfort zone just enough.

“Alright.”

“Cool, I’ll come banging on your door,” she winks at you before disappearing for her usual coffee break.

It’s two in the afternoon, you still have a few hours ahead of you and some caffeine sounds perfect actually. Though the coffee at the office is excellent, you’ve grown to like this small place nearby, a family owned business that offers the best you’ve ever had.

You grab your bag from your office and head out for a quick coffee run. The walk to the café is freshening, the weather has been treating you well lately, the Sun is beaming and you can only hope you won’t wake up to pouring rain the next morning.

You think back to how lost you were feeling just a year ago, when all of this around you were so new and a little too much at once. One month into your time in London you even thought about quitting and moving back home. You felt alone and broken, yearning after everything you left behind. Your friends, family, loved ones, everything that was so far away from you.

It took you long weeks, even months to get used to your new life and now you can’t even imagine yourself anywhere else. It doesn’t miss you don’t miss terribly the life you had still, but now you have a lot to be happy about here as well.

Waiting at a crossroad, you find yourself twirling around the strawberry ring on your finger, your thumb fidgeting with it like every time you think about your home. You glance down at it and take a deep breath before the lamp turns green and you continue your walk to the café.

It’s not rush hours so there are only a few people lingering around the small place. You don’t have to think about what you are getting, James, the barista already knows your usual and starts making it right away as you swipe your card paying your drink.

You stand at the side, waiting for your coffee, staring out the window, watching people pass by on this lovely afternoon. Your gaze stops on an old lady sitting on a nearby bench, feeding a group of pigeons and you smile as a little girl runs through the birds, making them fly away instantly. The old lady just smiles at the girl, not holding a grudge that she just scared the birds away.

Your eyes move away, watching businessmen come and go, kids going home from school, wearing their school uniforms, everything just feels so… peaceful.

You are almost about to turn away from the window when your gaze falls on a tall figure near the Sainsbury’s across the road and your lips part as you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm you know all too well. You blink once, twice, three times, waiting for your eyes to make sure it’s the person you think it is.

Harry is standing right there, holding a little bag of groceries, eyes glued to the screen of his phone, oblivious to your shocked gaze on him. Your feet move before your brain could think it through, they take you out of the café and you stand in the middle of the sidewalk as you call out for him.

“Harry!”

His head snaps up at his name, eyes looking around, searching for the source before they finally find you, a shocked, but seemingly joyful expression plastering over his handsome face. He is quick to shove his phone into his pocket before he watches both ways and runs across the road to meet you on the other side. You can’t push your smile down as you watch him approach you, his tall, fit figure getting closer and closer until he is standing right in front of you, watching you in awe.

“Hey,” he breathes out, both of you a little unsure of what to do, how to greet each other.

It’s been months since you last talked. After your departure you kept in contact, you couldn’t just distance yourself from him so abruptly, but the thousands of miles between the two of you made it almost impossible to maintain a working connection, the time zones, all the work you both were buried under and just life itself made you drift away from each other.

But he is now standing in front of you and though he looks slightly different, he is still the Harry you know and love. He is your Harry.

“What… what are you doing here?” you ask, finally finding your voice.

“Did you forget I’m British?” you teases you and you roll your eyes.

“I mean, are you visiting family or something?”

“I uhh…” he glances down at his feet before his eyes meet yours again. “I’m actually back.”

“What do you mean?”

“My contract ended in July and I didn’t… I didn’t extend it. I came back a few weeks ago.”

Your lips part at the information. Harry is in London, he is now in the same city as you, for the first time in a whole year.

“Really? That’s… wow.” There’s too much you want to tell and ask him, yet you stand there, blinking at him, still lost in the feeling of seeing him for the first time again.

“I actually wanted to contact you when I got back, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that,” he admits with a nervous chuckle and your eyes soften over him.

“What do you mean? I would have loved it if you called.”

“It’s just that we haven’t talked in a while and I didn’t know… I didn’t know where you’re standing about me.”

“Well, seems like fate did it for you,” you smile at him warmly. “I would love to catch up. I have to head back to work now, but maybe later?”

“What about after work? When are you getting off?”

“I finish at 5.”

“I can meet you at your work if you text me the address.”

“That would be great,” you nod smiling. “My number is still the same, so you’ll know it’s me.”

“Great,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up in a boyish smirk. You are just now realizing how much you’ve missed him.

“I, um…” You’re trying to find the right words, still feeling overwhelmed about the sudden run-in, but at last you decide to go for a hug.

Your arms wrap around his waist, he hesitates for a moment before wrapping you in his tight embrace, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. A shiver runs down your spine as the sense of home washes over you all at once, the warmth of Harry’s body making your heart flutter. Unfortunately, the moment must come to an end. His arms fall from around you, just like they did at the airport when you said goodbye to each other over a year ago.

“I’ll… see you later then,” he smiles as you are backing towards the entrance of the café.

“Yeah, later,” you nod and turning around you walk inside.

Arriving back to the office you drop by Jasmine’s office to tell her that you have to postpone your plans after work.

“What is more important than getting drunk with me?” she gasps dramatically.

“I ran into… I met Harry,” you tell her. You told her all about Harry one evening when you were out, just a few months into your stay. It was one of those days when you were feeling extremely homesick, or maybe you just missed him terribly.

“What? Your professor ex?” she asks with widened eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you are forgiven. Go and get the man back!”

“What?” you chuckle. “We just met after a year, how do you know I want him back? Maybe I just want to catch up with him,” you say, but it’s an obvious and blatant lie and you both know that. Jasmine gives you a look.

“Please, you are still so obviously in love with the man, don’t even try to convince me otherwise.”

You don’t protest, just bite into your bottom lip. You really are in love with him, or the version you knew a year ago. He could be an entirely different person now so you can’t be sure if your feelings are the same about the man you met today.

“Have fun with him and then tell me all about it after, okay?” she beams and you just nod, leaving her to finish her work.

As time is slowly passing by you find yourself growing nervous about seeing Harry. That short little conversation on the street was not enough to calm your nerves. What is he like now? Is he the same? Does he have new hobbies? Is he as happy to see you as you are to see him? What will he think of you? What if he doesn’t like you after all this time?

You try to push the questions to the back of your mind, not wanting to overwhelm yourself too much to the point where you chicken out of seeing him. When you’re on your way down following his text that he is waiting for you in front of the building, you are trying to keep yourself together and remind yourself that it’s just Harry, he might be a little different, but he is still kind of the same.

Luckily, the moment you spot him waiting a few feet away from the entrance, you forget about everything else, he is the only one to exist. He envelopes you in a hug when you arrive, smiling at you warmly.

“Hi, ready to go?” he kindly asks and you nod.

You settle for a nearby bar you’ve actually been to with Jasmine before. Harry insists on paying for the first round of drinks as the two of you settle in a secluded booth at the back. When he is standing at the bar you catch yourself watching him in awe. The situation is quite odd, could have never happened probably back home, the two of you casually out for a drink.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks upon returning, sitting across you.

“I was just thinking how this is the first time we are out, just the two of us.”

Harry smiles softly, probably appreciating it just the same.

The next couple of hours you both try to share anything and everything that has happened in the past year. He tells you about his last year as a professor and him not extending his contact. Coming back to London he has joined a research group for a marketing company, using his excellent knowledge to analyze human behavior in connection with different type of ads.

“It’s a lot different from being a college professor ain’t it?” you tease him and he nods chuckling.

“Guess I wanted some change. But it’s been nice, I enjoy doing a lot of research and experiments.”

Then you tell him about your time as a forensic document examiner, all the different cases you worked on and how it has been, living in London on your own. He listens to your tales about everything you’ve done with Jasmine, the concerts and karaoke bars you’ve been to and just generally your life overseas.

“Sounds like you’ve found your place, then,” he says smiling softly.

“I guess. Wasn’t an easy transition, but I’m feeling good now,” you nod. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss my past,” you add.

His eyes wander down to your hands that are fidgeting with your almost empty glass. You see how they stop over the ring and he seems surprised as he reaches out, takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the little strawberries.

“You’re still wearing the ring,” he states.

“Of course,” you smile and when he is about to let go of your hand, you grab it and hold it, needing to feel his touch.

You wanted to run back home so many times because you were missing him too badly, missed his voice, his eyes, his touch, everything and now, out of nowhere, he is here with you again, far away from the place where it all started and had to end for a while, still making you feel like home, no matter where you are.

At one point, you move to sit beside him in the booth. You just keep sharing and sharing even things you’ve talked about on the phone before. You’re just soaking each other in. His arm soon moves around your shoulders and you gladly lean into his side, placing a hand to his thigh, sparkles running through your body.

“I love this,” you hum to yourself upon finishing your last drink.

“Love what?”

“Being out with you without a worry. I always dreamt of this and it’s just… so natural. I wish we got to experience it before.”

“As you said, that was a wrong time and place. Wasn’t our fault.”

You lift your head, eyes meeting his curious green irises as he smiles down at you kindly. You’ve missed that smile, it still makes your heart skip a beat, just like at the beginning.

“And do you think it’s the right time and place now?” you prompt the question.

“It’s definitely… better,” he chuckles softly. “Unless you are seeing someone, because now would be the best time to tell me.”

“I’m not,” you shake your head smirking. “Tried to go on dates, but truth is… none of them were you. I gave up after a few terrible attempts.”

“I didn’t even try,” he shyly smiles. “I just… knew no one would make me as happy as you did. As you always do.”

Pushing yourself up a bit, you rest your forehead against his as he closes his eyes, his arm around your shoulder tightens and his other hand rests on your thigh, pulling you closer. Your palm slides up his chest and neck until you’re cupping his cheek. You place a soft lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, testing the waters out, seeing how he reacts though nothing that happened tonight tells you he wants to keep his distance.

He moves his face, nose nudging against you before his lips find yours in a kiss you’ve been longing for since you left him behind at the airport over a year ago. Your fingers lace through his hair, pulling him towards you as if he could escape from your hold any moment, but he is definitely here to stay. Your lips clash again and again, savoring each other, eagerly trying to make up for the time you lost since your departure. You melt into his arms, moving your legs across his lap as he pulls you to his lap in the booth, partially hidden from the rest of the bar, wrapped up in your little bubble. He tastes like home, his kisses feel like the first warm rays of sunshine after a long and cold winter, the only thing you couldn’t really get yourself over this whole year. Because you’ve become good at pushing your feelings down to the point where you could easily carry on, but he was always in the corner of your mind, making you wonder if you’ll ever meet again and if you do, will it be the same as before?

It’s not, because it’s better. The burdens and banters that tied you both down a year ago are now long gone, you have all the time and space in the world, nothing is restricting you. You can touch him and kiss him whenever and wherever you want. There’s no more sneaking around, no one here knows who you are and who Harry used to me to you. Here, you’re just another lovesick couple, so into each other it’s almost insane.

When he pulls back his forehead stays rested against yours as you both are trying to catch your breath. His hand runs up and down your thigh, the warmth of his palm melting your body under his soft touch.

“I love you,” he breathes out, eyes meeting yours.

“You still do?” you ask with a small smile, heart beating in your throat.

“I never stopped loving you,” he admits and you let out a shaky breath, pulling him down for a short kiss.

“Not even when I was an ocean away from you?”

“No,” he chuckles shaking his head. “If that’s possible, I loved you even more when you were away. I realized how much you mean to me and I could only hope you weren’t moving on without me.”

“I could never,” you smile at him softly. “I love you too much to do that.”

“You have no idea how much I missed you say that,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle and you kiss his lips shortly, assuring him that you feel the same way. “So… are we going to try again?”

“Do you want to?”

“There’s nothing I want more, baby,” he truthfully admits, his gaze softening at you as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to?”

“Of course,” you smile at him widely. “I think it’s settled.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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akakeiiji · 3 years

Note

HI!~ (THIS IS MY FIRST TINE REQUESTING AND IM REALLY EXCITED) Can I request a scenario where their smol s/o (I'm like 155 or 5'1 for reference) gets easily lost? Like they just wonder off on their own cause they think that he's still with them and she tends to leave her phone with him so calling to find her is out of the question??? (Me honestly IM SORRY FRIENDS AND FAMILY) She likes a lot of things so sometimes its hard to find her cause they never know where she is? Ushi, Tsuki and Bokuto-🌼

-`,✎ Ushijima, Tsukishima and Bokuto losing their short S/O in a crowd

THIS REQUEST IS JUST TOO ADORABLE AND IT HITS SO CLOSE TO HOME!! We’re the same height nonnie 🤧🤧✋ Short gang, where ya’ll at?

Also I apparently don’t know how to read because I thought you requested for headcanons at first despite you clearly asking for scenarios so I decided to keep the hcs since I was already halfway done with them~ hope you don’t mind, nonnie!

The man is literally built like the empire state building, he just towers over everyone, it’s insane

And then there you are behind him, all tiny and stuff, it’s so friggin adorable

He doesn’t really notice your height difference at all

Whenever people point it out, he just cocks his head with his eyebrows furrowed and is like “Yeah, I’m tall?? And they’re short?? Why are you reacting like that?”

He’s genuinely confused and doesn’t see why it’s a big deal at all

When he looks at you he doesn’t really pick up on itty bitty details like your height and stature; he just sees you for the whole you and sees you simply as this perfect deity that he loves

But he does appreciate the perks that come with it such as the way you feel when he hugs you after a match or the way you look up at him so adorably when you’re trying to get a kiss

He also didn’t realize the cons that came with having a tiny s/o

There are many but we’re focusing on the fact that it’s so easy to lose you in a crowd

He’ll literally look away for 0.5 seconds and when he looks back at you, you’re suddenly gone

He probably won’t notice for a bit but after a while, he’ll wonder why you aren’t holding onto his sleeve or hand anymore

Whenever this happens he usually goes about it in two ways; he’d either stay still where he is and let you find him (which isn’t hard, he sticks out like a sore thumb) or if enough time passes, he’ll retrace his steps and look for you himself

He’ll have a tiny little frown on his face since he gets so worried about you, like you’re so tiny what if you get trampled??

When he does find you though, the wide smile on your face when you catch sight of him honestly makes the search worth it

can you tell that I miss ushi so friggin much

The streets in downtown Tokyo are always so packed at this time of day. There were hundreds of people rushing to and from work, tourists taking in the sights, and busy shoppers such as yourself and Ushijima; you two had just finished shopping together and were heading to your favorite restaurant in the area as you always do to end your date night.

Your hand remained tightly wrapped around the hem of your boyfriend’s coat as you two made your way down the busy streets, struggling to not get pulled away as people continued to mercilessly push past you. You would have much rather held Ushijima’s hand but he insisted on carrying all your shopping bags and was rather preoccupied with them at that moment.

He marched on, oblivious to your struggles behind him. It was during times like this when you hated how short your legs were, you were practically jogging to keep up with your boyfriend who, to him, was only going at a leisurely pace.

Before you knew it, your hand had loosened and you suddenly lost hold of his coat. You looked up, hoping to find him just a few feet away, but he had disappeared into the sea of people all around you.

Ushijima hadn’t noticed anything at first, he was too focused on where he was going to realize that the little tugs on the hem of his coat throughout the journey were suddenly gone. He looked down at both his hands and placed the shopping bags on one of them to the other so that he could use it to hold your own.

He held out his free hand behind him, calling out your name, and motioned for you to grab it. A few seconds went by of him gesturing like this only to be met with no response.

He looked back, eyebrows furrowed, only to find no sign of you.

Ushijima immediately stops in his tracks, eyes widening ever so slightly as he did a little 360 turn in his spot, raking over the crowds rushing past him in hopes he’d find your familiar head of hair bouncing about.

He stood motionless where he was, forcing people to walk around him—most wanted to tell him off for standing in the middle of the street but no one had the balls to.

A few minutes went by and he began walking down the direction he came from looking everywhere for you. Worry began to bubble in him when you were still nowhere to be found but suddenly he saw a figure waving at him from afar.

You were standing on top of those small cement blocks on the bottom street lights, waving your free hand that wasn’t wrapped around the lamp towards your boyfriend, grinning ear to ear when you met eyes with him.

Ushijima smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing as he made his way over to you. You met him halfway, immediately wrapping your arms around him in a hug, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m never letting go of your hand next time.” He said, pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before interlocking your fingers together. You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely not.”

We all already know this: Kei is fucking ruthless

It doesn’t matter that you’re dating. It doesn’t matter that you’re literally his favorite person in the world tho he’ll never admit this to you you will not be free from his savageness

No one is more hyper-aware of your height difference than he is and no one teases you more than him

Tsukishima is literally the type to steal your things and hold them over your head or he’ll purposefully stand at full height whenever you want to kiss him just so that he can watch you struggle

“Oh, babe, I didn’t see you from down there.”

Is the type to purposefully put things you use all the time up on the top shelves in cupboards and cabinets

He says that he does this to annoy but really he does this so that you can call him to help you since he banned you from climbing the counters 🤧✋

He really loves your height though as much as he likes to tease you for it

He loves how easy it is to wrap his arms around you and how you burrow into his chest whenever you hug

His favorite thing about your height is probably the fact that it’s so comfortable being the big spoon with you since you fit so snuggly against him 🥺

again he’ll never tell you this, my man is tight-lipped

However he can get very protective over you, it’s like he developed this idea in this head that small = fragile

So whenever he loses track of you in a crowd (which happens a lot, it's honestly embarrassing) he immediately drops everything and searches for you

He’ll have this permanent pout on his face as he retraces his steps, going back to wherever you two were and keeping an eye out for either you or places that would catch your eye

Once he finally catches you, he’d sigh in relief and immediately put up his “i’m annoyed right now, give me attention” face and head over to you, knocking your head with his knuckles lightly

He’d lecture you a bit about staying close to him and he’d spend the rest of your time out with his eye on you and with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

The mall was always so crowded during the weekend especially now that Christmas was just around the corner. Tsukishima told you that you two should visit the mall later during the week but you were just so excited to see this new movie, he simply couldn’t say no; he cursed himself for being so tightly wrapped around your finger.

The building was already pretty full when you two entered the cinema but when you two emerged, it was as if the number of people there seemed to double in just a span of a few hours.

As you two made your way through the tight-knit crowds of people, the frown on Tsukishima’s face never left as people kept pushing and rushing past him. He called out your name behind him and said, “See, I told you we should have come after the weekend, it’s like half the city is here right now.”

He waited for your usual giggle or scoff, maybe a light smack on his arm as you tell him to brighten up but there wasn’t any of that.

“(Y/N)? Did you hear me? I—(Y/N?),” He turned around, worried that you may have been upset at him but instead was surprised to find that you weren’t trailing along behind him like he expected you to be.

He turned around fully, hands coming out of his pocket as he raked his eyes over the crowds of people around him. It would be nearly impossible to find you here, there were probably hundreds of people in the mall now.

Tsukishima groaned slightly as he ran a hand through his locks, his other hand going into his pant pocket to ring your phone only to realize that it was with him as well, right next to his. This elicited a second groan from the blonde.

Knowing you, you probably got distracted by something and wandered away from him.

He retraced his steps, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. He had no idea when you wandered away from him so you could have been anywhere. He stood at full height, towering over the majority of the crowd, and scanned the entirety of the floor and the shops on it.

He entered a few stores he knew you’d most likely visit; the bookstore, the pet store, and a shop that was having a 50% sale but he found no traces of you.

Tsukishima was about to give up and head to the information desk and ask them to announce something on the loudspeaker to grab your attention—probably something along the lines of “To the small gremlin wandering around floor three right now, please meet Tsukishima Kei at the main exit.”—when he spotted a bright store on the other side of the floor.

You were there. He just knew it.

He rolled his eyes as he made his way to the anime store and low and behold, there you were, crouching as you stared at the shelves of anime merchandise, a wide ear to ear grin on your face.

Tsukishima sighed and lightly smacked you, tearing you away from your thoughts and making you look up at him in shock.

“You are such an idiot, (Y/N).” You only laughed in response and wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face onto his chest. “Aww, Kei! Were you worried about me?”

“Of course, I was. How do you expect me to feel?” He said with another roll of his eyes. He brought his hand up and placed it on top of your head. “I was worried someone thought you were a child and kidnapped you.”

You let out an indignant gasp and started to smack him but he only laughed and took your hand in his, dragging you out of the store behind him ignoring your protests.

Nobody in the whole entire world thinks you’re more adorable than Bokuto

He adores the fact that you’re so tiny, he likes you call you his pocket-sized s/o

He never really teases you, instead he always coos and coddles you

He especially loves lifting you up in his arms and twirling you around, he always does this after winning a game and it always leaves you feeling dizzy

But you never complain bc who would complain about being hugged by Kou like that 🤧✋

However, as much as Bokuto loves how smol you are, he always kinda forgets that you’re short??

It’s because he’s always surrounded by tall people; his friends, the volleyball team, etc.

So he always forgets to adjust when he’s with you

And you know how some people just naturally walk really really fast, like they can’t help it, it’s just how they walk normally??

Yeah, that’s Bokuto

And this paired with the fact that he is literally 6’1 means he practically travels at light speed

Your tiny legs can barely keep up with your excitable boyfriend and you’re always practically jogging to keep up with him so if you take your eyes off of him for even just a few seconds he’ll probably run off somewhere and disappear 😔✋

This occurs so often when you two are out that you’re never shocked whenever it happens

It takes a few minutes before Bokuto realizes that he’s suddenly alone in a crowd and that you aren’t beside him like he thought you would be

AND IM SORRY BUT THE FIRST THING HE’LL DO IS JUST YELL OUT YOUR NAME REPEATEDLY AT FULL VOLUME WITH NO SHAME WHATSOEVER

“(Y/N)!! WHERE ARE YOU??”

Everyone around him would give him looks but he wouldn’t care, he just needs to find you fast or he’ll start panicking tho he lowkey already is

Some people would think that he’s looking for his kid but nah, he’s just looking for his smol s/o who would show up beside him after a while with a disgruntled look on their face

It never takes long for you two to reunite when you get separated, you just have to wait for the distinctive voice of your boyfriend yelling for you somewhere

When you two find each other, the first thing he’ll do is pull you into a tight hug, usually lifting you up from the ground as he presses a few kisses on your cheeks in relief

He’ll remember to walk slowly for the rest of the time you’re out, usually with his arm over your shoulder or with his hand tightly wrapped around your own

It made absolutely no sense to you that Bokuto literally grew up in the city yet has never visited the amusement park in the area before. You’ve visited the park countless times before but for your boyfriend, it was a first.

Bokuto was practically bouncing with excitement ever since you proposed the idea of visiting the amusement park together and it only got more intense as the day of your visit grew closer and closer.

You somewhat regretted not pushing your date to a later day in the week so that it didn’t fall on the weekend since the park was so packed but that feeling quickly dissipated when you glanced at your beaming boyfriend beside you.

What you did regret however was the fact that you didn’t wear more comfortable shoes, ones that were more fitting for exercise rather than leisurely walks since you were practically running around the park just to keep up with Bokuto.

His hand remained tightly clasped on your own as he sprinted all around the park, looking at all the rides, food stands, and gift shops around the place. He wasn’t really running, he was simply walking at a quick pace but this coupled with his long legs made it so difficult to match his pace with your significantly shorter ones.

You two had just gotten off a rather intense roller coaster and you felt your head spin from how dizzy it made you, you halted in your steps as Bokuto was about to begin running towards another ride making Bokuto stop as well as he was pulled back by your hand which was still holding onto his.

“Koutarou, let me rest for a bit,” You said as you sat on a bench in the shade, Bokuto immediately nodded and took a seat beside you, he handed you a bottle of water from his bag. “Sure babe, here drink this.”

After a few minutes of talking and resting under the shade, you stood up, reinvigorated, and filled with more energy. “Okay, let’s go, I’m feeling much better now,”

Bokuto immediately jumped onto his feet and beamed at you, more than ready for another round of rollercoasters and thrilling rides. He held out his hand for you to take and you two headed farther into the park.

“Let’s go on the Viking ride next—wait, hold on, let me fix this.” You let go of your boyfriend’s hand and began adjusting the overpriced headband on your head; Bokuto insisted on buying matching ones at the gift shop despite their ridiculous price (“Look, it’s just so adorable!”)

When you looked up, ready to grab ahold of his hand again, Bokuto was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

You whipped your head all around you but you couldn’t see the familiar head of hair of your boyfriend in the horde of people around you. You stood on your tiptoes, craning your head to get a better view but that didn’t do anything to help. You feel back on your feet and huffed; curse you and your short stature.

You walked down the direction you two were originally headed at, raking your eyes over the crowds of people you walked past when you suddenly heard a familiar voice yelling out your name from a distance. You whipped your head towards the direction of the voice and began to jog towards it.

Bokuto was standing on his tiptoes, his hands cupping his mouth as he called out for you over and over again, oblivious to the looks of shock from the people around him.

As he was about to scream out your name for the dozenth time, you suddenly pushed your way through the people around him and grabbed ahold of his arm, an exasperated yet also relieved look on your face.

Bokuto’s face immediately lit up, the small frown on his lips turning into a large smile as he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed you into his chest and lifted you off the ground as he usually does when he hugs you.

You giggled and flailed around as he did this, when he placed you back safely on the ground, he placed a small kiss on your forehead.

“Sorry for leaving you behind,” Bokuto said as he laced his fingers onto your own, “It won’t happen again,”

You scoffed playfully and let yourself be dragged along by him, “That’s what you said last time, Kou.”

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pretendingboyfriends · 3 years

Text

A/N: ok WOW first off, i’m so sorry i literally haven’t posted since december. these past few months have been so wild what with new classes and my mental health declining. i can’t promise the last few parts of this lil series will come at a timely manner just because my mental state can be very unpredictable, but i will try my best to get them out as fast as i can, especially when summer is right around the corner. i wanna thank @thestyleswritings and @friendlyneighborhood-mendes for being my lovely beta readers. as i’ve said before, my writing is nothing without betas so thank u for taking the time to review my piece and give me honest feedback. anyways, i made this part extra long for you guys and i really really hope you love it. <3

Warnings: explicit language, panic attack, anxiety, deidre being a megacunt (as always), smut

Word count: 9.3k+

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It’s been a few days since your first date with Harry, the two weeks you’ve planned to spend at the beach feeling far too short as each day passes like a whirlwind. And over these days, you’ve found that getting comfortable with him is an easier feat than you’d initially imagined. Moments with him are hardly fleeting. You find yourself spending most of your time with him, whether it be going for a swim on the beach or sneaking off somewhere in the house to make out. If this were anyone else, you’d feel suffocated spending so much time with them, but with Harry it’s so much different. You can’t keep yourself away from him, even if you try, and you’re beginning to think that the feeling is quite mutual for Harry as well.

The air is humid and warm, a quaint breeze sifting through the leaves of the palm trees that surround the pool’s fence, finding its way to where the three of you lounge. The kiss of the sun blesses your exposed skin as you and Deidre lie side by side on the poolside chairs. You've lost count of how many hours the three of you have spent in the afternoon sun, but, as hot as it is, you're thoroughly enjoying every moment spent actually being with Deidre for once. Even if you aren't actually doing anything but lying in the sun, just the fact that she's spending time with you for longer than an hour makes you happy.

Your eyes scan each line of the book in your hands, allowing your brain to paint a picture of each image as best as it can. Deidre snores quietly beside you, arms draped over her face to shield her eyes from the blinding light and Harry splashes around quietly in the pool, occasionally pulling himself under for a few moments before coming back to the surface for air again.

As you turn the page of your book, the sudden splashing of water fills your ears before several cold droplets hit your warm skin. It immediately draws your attention away from your book and up to where Harry stands in front of your chair.

"Hi," You muse, pulling your legs up to curl beneath you.

"Hi back," He smiles as he pushes his fingers through his long, dripping wet hair.

You pluck your sunglasses from your nose and gingerly place them on the top of your head so that you can get a better look at him. "Need something?"

"Could you grab me a Coke from the cooler, please?" He asks, yanking his towel from the edge of his own chair and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Yeah, sure." You nod, sliding a bookmark into the spine of your book and placing it beside you on the chair before reaching into the cooler next to you for an unopened can. The chilled perspiration dripping down the aluminum can causes a chill to travel up your spine as soon as your fingertips make contact with it. You reach forward to place it into Harry's hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment.

He mutters a quick 'thanks' before cracking it open and lifting it to his lips. As he does this, you're given an opportunity to allow your gaze to fall down the rest of his body. His tanned skin glistens delicately in the sunlight, each droplet of water illuminated like tiny specks of glitter all along his chest and arms. The dark ink that litters his skin has somehow become a shade darker as well, each detail becoming more apparent to your eye the longer you study the expanse of his chest and shoulders.

"Enjoying the view?" Harry hums, very obviously amused by your mindless ogling.

You clear your throat, feigning innocence as you internally burst into flames of embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about." (Luckily, Deidre is still snoring peacefully beside you, completely oblivious to the flirtatious comments being thrown back and forth between you and Harry.)

He chuckles, sipping his drink one last time before placing it on the ground by his chair. "Are you sure you don't want to come join me for a bit?" He motions back to the pool as he drops the towel back on the chair.

"I think I'm alright staying here," You hum, tilting your head to the side as you gaze up at him. "I'm quite enjoying my book." You sigh, picking your book back up and waving it in the air to show him.

He sighs in disappointment, shaking his head. "That's a shame. The water feels fantastic."

You watch him turn back towards the pool, admiring the way the muscles in his back flex with his every move. He crouches down at the edge of the water, placing one hand on the cement as he slings himself into the pool, water splashing all around him. He swivels around in the water so that he's facing you again, his eyes trained on yours with a mischievous look on his face. You squint in suspicion, tilting your head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"Nothin'." He shrugs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He continues to wade out a little further and you roll your eyes at him, turning your attention away from him and back to your book.

There are a few moments of silence in the air as you're pulled back into the imagery of the book, paying no mind to whatever mischief Harry is up to in the pool. But then, before you have even a second to process what's happening, cold water splashes up onto your legs, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as the book slips out of your grasp.

"Harry!" You screech, sitting up on your chair to scold him. He's standing in the water at the edge of the pool with an evil smile spread across his face, his hands scooping up the water and splashing it up in your direction. The mixture of your screeching and the cold water reaching her side of the pavement, causes Deidre to wake from her slumber, scrambling up into a sitting position.

"Harry, what the fuck!?" She screams from beside you, grabbing her sandal from the ground and hurling it in his direction. He cackles dramatically as he dodges the shoe by swiftly slipping beneath the surface of the water. The shoe falls into the water behind him with a loud 'PLUNK' and then resurfaces, floating aimlessly.

He rises back to the surface within a few seconds, chuckling as he pushes the sopping wet hair out of his face. "Sorry, did I get ya?"

Deidre scoffs, angrily wiping the water droplets from her legs with her towel. "I was having such a good nap and you ruined it."

"Oh, come on," He rolls his eyes, dragging out the 'n' with a teasing lilt. "I was just playin' around. It's gettin' kinda boring being in here all alone."

She lies back against the chair exactly like she had been before, draping her arm over her eyes once again. "Suck it up."

Harry wades back to the side of the pool, folding his arms against the warm cement and leaning his chin against them with a pout on his lips. "Pretty please?"

Before either you or Deidre even has a moment to respond, Deidre's phone begins to sing loudly with the sound of her ringtone. She pats her hand around the chair for her phone for a few moments, not bothering to lift her arm from her eyes to look for it. She finally grasps it, sliding her thumb across the bottom of the screen and lifting it to her ear.

"Hello?... oh, hey, what's up?" She speaks to the person on the other end, finally lifting her arm from her eyes so that she can sit up on the chair. "Yeah, I'd love to! I can be there in, like-" she pauses to glance at the time on her phone. "10 minutes?" Another pause. "Okay, sounds good, see you there!" She lifts the phone from her ear, tapping the screen once to end the call before quickly standing up from the chair.

"Who was that?" You ask, tilting your head at her in curiosity, though you sense that you already know the answer.

"That was Jeff and the rest of the gang. They invited me to mini golf with them," Deidre replies, folding her towel over her arm and picking her sandal up from the ground. "You can come along, if you want."

Immediately, you feel your mood begin to plummet as you watch her get ready to leave, barely even giving you a second glance as she retrieves her sandal from the water. You know she's not doing it on purpose, but it's hard not to feel hurt by her inability to spend even so much as a day with you.

"That's okay," You respond, trying to mask the shakiness of your voice with a cheerful lilt. "Have fun, though."

"Okay, well, I'll see you guys later!" She smiles, waving back to both of you as she turns on her heel and bounds up the porch stairs.

After the sound of the back door swinging shut fills your ears, you glance over in Harry's direction to find that he's watching you intently. His playful expression from just a few moments ago is exchanged with a concerned frown. You sigh, picking your book back up in hopes of finding a distraction from the sinking feeling deep in your stomach, but Harry has other plans.

A fleeting, silent moment passes before Harry decides to speak.

"Hey,"

The sound of his voice pulls your attention away from the book in your hands, forcing you to move it from in front of your face so that you can look at him. "Hi," you make eye contact with him, finding that he's still in the same position from before, arms folded on the pavement as his chin rests against them.

"You alright?" He questions, tilting his head to the side as he watches you.

You shake your head a little, glancing down at the book in your lap. "It's fine. I don't really know what I was expecting, she's been doing this for the past week and a half. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

He's silent for a moment, gazing at you thoughtfully as he thinks of what he's going to say in response. "You really should join me in here. It'll help you get your mind off things."

You hesitate, rubbing the back of your neck with the palm of your hand as you mull over his proposition. It'd be nice to have a distraction from the nagging feeling of betrayal deep within your chest, and you know Harry will do anything in his power to make sure you feel better. After a silent debate with yourself on whether or not you really want to join him, you push yourself up from the chair, muttering a quiet affirmation before slowly padding over to the edge of the pool.

You crouch down, moving to sit on the warm pavement as your legs hang over the edge and dip into the cool, clear water. Harry pushes himself off from the wall, spinning himself around 360 degrees.

"Come onnnn," He sings, wading closer to you. "Come swim with me."

You scrunch your nose, kicking your legs in the water and staring down at the way the water splashes up into the air. "Gimme a minute to get used to the water, jeez." You scoff, kicking a bit of water in his direction.

He rolls his eyes, wading closer to you so that you can feel his warm breath against your knees and the current his kicking feet create beneath you. "That's an excuse if I've ever heard one," his fingers curl around your right ankle, giving you another mischievous smile identical to the one he gave you earlier.

"What are you doing?" You squint your eyes at him, cautiously tugging your leg against his grip.

"M'helpin' you get in," he hums nonchalantly. "Seems like you need a bit of coaxing."

A small smile breaks across your face and you roll your eyes, placing your hands on the pavement behind you and leaning back against them. "I'm quite comfortable right here, actually."

"Alright, then you leave me no other choice..." Before you can even process what he's saying, he's grabbing your other ankle and yanking you into the water in one quick movement. The water splashes around you, engulfing you beneath the surface and immediately soaking into your bathing suit.

You resurface, sputtering and choking on the water as you rub the chlorine from your burning eyes. "I hate you so much right now," You huff, dropping your hands and squinting up at him. He's wearing an mischievous smile, fully content with his successful attempt of getting you into the pool.

"It's really not that bad," he rolls his eyes, wading further away from you. "You'll get used to it."

You glare at him, shoving your hands forward beneath the water to splash him directly in the face, but he merely laughs and swiftly wipes the droplets from his eyes like it's nothing. You watch as he slinks towards the very edge of the pool several feet away from you, turning back to face you before grabbing a small, foam ball floating on the surface. He tosses it in your direction, watching it land directly in front of you, splashing the water gently.

"C'mon, toss it back to me,"

You take the ball into your hand, squinting up at him. "Is this your idea of fun?"

He shrugs. "Got any other ideas?"

At that, you roll your eyes and reluctantly hurl the ball back into his direction. He catches it swiftly with both hands, tossing it up into the air a few times as he contemplates his next move.

“Oh, my god,” you groan, rolling your head back onto your shoulders in dramatic exaggeration. “I’m not doing this.” You turn to wade towards the side of the pool.

“No, wait!” He calls, immediately running (more like bobbing) through the water towards you as fast as he can.

You ignore his call and start to climb the side of the pool, but he catches you before you can fully climb out, curling an arm around your waist and tugging you back against him.

“Please,” he mutters, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. “I know you’re upset, but I just wanna help you get your mind off things.”

You sigh, reluctantly dropping your hands from the edge of the pavement. You’re silent for a moment as he rests his chin against your shoulder, small puffs of air hitting your damp skin.

“I really thought she was going to try to spend time with me today,” you whisper, turning in his arms to face him. “She didn’t tell me she wouldn’t do it again, though, so I guess I’m the only one to blame.”

He frowns at that, shaking his head. “Don’t blame y’self for any of this. You had expectations for this trip and she completely obliterated them.”

Jutting your bottom lip into a pout, you avoid making eye contact with him. You know he’s right. She promised you she’d spend the trip with you, just you, but she’s almost done everything in her power to do the opposite.

Harry leans forward, pecking your pouted lips gently. He starts to pull away, but you want more so you lock your arms around his neck and he takes that as an invitation to continue, pecking your lips in quick intervals. Even though you’d only just begun to show affection towards each other in this short period of time, it feels like you’ve been together for years. Everything is just so easy with him. It helps that you grew up with each other, but your interactions were so scarce over the years that you didn’t even feel like you really knew him until this trip.

As you’re opening your mouth ever so slightly for him to stroke his tongue over your bottom lip, the feeling of his fingers creeping along your waist has you chuckling nervously. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothin’...” He hums, hooded eyes gazing into yours as he traces his fingertips up against your sides. He leans in for another kiss with a lazy smirk on his lips and you hesitantly grant him one, wary of his wandering hands.

Suddenly, his hands aren’t so gentle anymore and the seemingly harmless pressure of his fingers has turned into almost painful tickling. You throw your head back against your shoulders with a cackle, pressing your palms into his chest in an attempt to push him away but he doesn’t budge. The vicious assault of his fingers draws giggle after giggle from your lips with the occasionally squeal of frustration as you squirm in his unyielding hold.

“I. Hate. You.” You grunt between each word, smacking your hands against his biceps, chest, and shoulders playfully.

Finally, you’re able to tear away from him, nearly diving into the water to get away from him, but he’s faster than you and within moments he has a large, tattooed arm curled around your waist once again. You scream out in frustration, kicking your legs in the water and causing it to splash out in front of you nearly six feet into the air.

“You can’t escape that easy,” he chuckles into your ear, continuing his assault on your poor midsection as you whimper and struggle limply.

Suddenly, a loud rumble of thunder pulls your attention from Harry’s abuse and up to the sky. You've been so distracted by Harry’s stabbing fingers that you hadn't seen the dark cumulonimbus' gathering directly above you in the sky, uttering low groans of warning to anyone near. It begins as small, harmless droplets, but quickly blossoms into a violent downpour, pounding into the surface of the water.

“Fuck!” You screech as you scramble to get out of the pool. Harry is taking his time, though, laughing at the way you’re panicking. “Do you want to get struck by lightning?!” You yell to him, yanking your towel and book from the chair you were lying in before.

He laughs at you, climbing out of the pool and standing by the edge briefly so that he can wipe the moisture from his eyes. The sight of him standing there in nothing but a tight, wet pair of swimming trunks, nearly causes your mouth to water. If it weren’t for the raging thunderstorm pelting you and everything around it, you’d take a few moments just to soak in the view, but you have no time for that.

You bound up the stairs leading to the back porch, holding your book and towel close to your chest to keep them from getting any wetter than they already are. Harry soon follows with his own belongings, giggling playfully like a little boy as the screen door slams behind him.

“Shit- that came out of nowhere!” He chokes, pushing his hand through the sopping curls sprouting from his head and framing his beautiful face.

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle as you toss your towel to the side and yank the sliding door open so that you can step inside. Harry tosses his own towel over a porch chair before he follows you inside, sliding the door closed behind him. The contrast of the roaring sound of the storm outside compared to the silence inside the house is almost deafening. Both of you are wet and shivering on the carpeted floor, looking shamelessly like a pair of greasy rats.

Both of you shower (separately) and change into more comfortable, dry attire, soon finding yourselves in the kitchen scavenging for something to eat.

“Y’know what I’m really craving right now?” Harry asks, standing in front of the open refrigerator.

“What?” You reply, popping a grape into your mouth as you lean back against the counter.

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

You pause for a moment, contemplating the prospect of freshly baked cookies melting in your mouth. “Now that you mention it, I'm really craving some as well."

"I think it's something in the water." He hums sarcastically, scrunching his nose to emphasize the sarcasm.

“Perhaps,” you hum in response, a smile itching to spread across your lips.

"Alright then, let's do it!" Harry says, pushing himself away from the counter. "Let's make chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! Come on, we've got nowhere else to be. This will give us something to pass the time!"

Soon, you find yourself hip to hip with Harry at the kitchen counter, a large spread of every required ingredient to make chocolate chip cookies laid out in front of you. You'd found a few old aprons in the back of the pantry and of course you'd both thrown them on to make the experience as authentic as possible.

Harry's apron of choice is a bright yellow number with tacky, purple frills lining the edges and the words "Grandma's Kitchen" stitched across the breast in that same purple color-all you can do is giggle at the sight of him. Yours, however, is nearly the opposite of his; a plain white piece with a pattern of small, black flowers.

Harry frowns at you when you begin to laugh at the sight of him in the apron. "What?? You don't like it?" He huffs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, no-" you snort, attempting to hold in the cackle itching to escape your throat. "It's great, I love it. Really suits you."

He smiles to himself, turning to the counter. "Thank you, I think it's quite tasteful as well."

You notice that he's pulled his hair up into a bun, so you're able to admire his face in the close proximity. He really is handsome, you think. His eyes are shockingly vibrant - piercing yet kind all at the same time. When he smiles, the very edges of his eyes crinkle as if they're smiling with him and it's getting harder for you to keep yourself from getting lost in them. You'd always found him attractive like that, but within the past week and a half you've gained a different, more meaningful attraction to him. He isn't just your childhood crush anymore - he's Harry. Harry, the boy who remembers how you take your coffee; Harry, the boy who takes you out to coffee and bookstores and proceeds to buy you nearly half the store without you even knowing; Harry, the boy that would rather spend his entire vacation with you when he could easily spend it partying with a new girl every night.

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle, turning back to the counter before looking down at the recipe shown on your phone screen. "So..." you begin, scanning over the first few steps on your screen. "First, we need to combine all the dry ingredients into one bowl and then combine all the wet ingredients in another bowl."

"Alright," Harry hums through a nod, selecting all the dry ingredients from the layout in front of you and collecting them into his corner. "I'll mix the dry ingredients."

You acknowledge him with a quiet murmur before you continue to scan the list of instructions. As you do so, your vision begins to blur slightly. You ignore it at first, hoping it goes away, but when it doesn't, you're forced to blink a few times in an attempt to clear it. Your attempts are in vain, however, because your vision does not improve. Nevertheless, you choose to ignore it in hopes that it will go away on its own.

As you begin to crack eggs; scoop perfectly measured cups of sugar; and combine softened butter all together into a bowl, a slight wave of light-headedness overwhelms you. It's unexpected, so you place the bowl on the counter, sliding it away from you slightly so that you can grip the edge of the counter to stabilize yourself.

Harry seems to notice the shift in your behavior, nudging your arm gently with his elbow to grab your attention. "Is everything alright? Y'look a bit flustered,"

Before you're able to respond, your heart rate suddenly and noticeably begins to increase as well, causing your breathing to become more labored and frantic. You shake your head, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles are white, head hung on your shoulders as you attempt to catch your breath. "I think I'm- I think I'm having a panic attack,"

You sense him moving closer to you, a warm palm pressed against your back in a soothing manner. "Can I- What can I do to help?"

"I just- I need to sit down," You mutter between breaths, turning slightly to slide down the cabinets and onto the floor with your hand still firmly placed against your chest. A slight numbness begins to form around your nose and your hands begin to shake uncontrollably as you crumple onto the kitchen floor.

Harry follows quickly, moving to sit directly in front of you and gently taking both your hands into his own. "Can you try to breathe a bit slower for me?" He mutters, rubbing his thumbs against your knuckles soothingly. "Maybe in through your nose and out through your mouth?"

You nod to him, taking deep breaths in through your nose and then breathing out through your mouth just like he'd instructed. The feeling of his thumbs rubbing against your skin so gently helps to ground you in the moment, although the feeling of panic and anxiety still rages through your veins. Just his presence alone gives you a level of comfort, but it isn't enough to obliterate the numbness in your face and the hot tears gliding effortlessly down your cheeks.

You don't know how much time passes, but eventually your breathing has gone back to normal and you're left exhausted and still shaking.

"Are you feeling better?" He hums, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles as he gazes up at you with the same concerned expression he'd been sporting as soon as your episode began.

"Yeah- Yes," You stutter in response, leaning your head back against the wooden cabinets. "Fuck, I don't even know where that came from, I'm sorry."

"No, please, don't apologize. Just wanna make sure you're alright,"

You give him a weak smile. "I'm pretty exhausted, but I'll be okay after lying down for a bit or taking a nap."

"Yeah? Need me to help you up or do you want to sit here for a while longer?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he smiles back at you.

"Do you think you could get me some water, please?"

"Of course," He nods, immediately standing up in front of you to grab a fresh glass from one of the upper cabinets and fill it with water before kneeling back down to place it into your trembling hands. "There you are, babe."

You smile up at him. "Thank you."

He smiles back as if to say "you're welcome" as he gently rubs his knuckles against your arm to give you some form of comfort.

It takes nearly 10 minutes for you to gather your bearings on reality again, but having Harry there helps so much more than if you were experiencing this alone. He watches you intently the entire time, hyper aware of every breath you take like he's afraid you'll fall apart in front of his eyes, and all you want to do is reach up and smooth out the deep creases between his eyebrows.

"Could you help me up now?" You croak, squeezing his hand gently.

"Yeah- yes, of course." He scrambles to securely wrap an arm around your waist, his other hand still clutching one of yours as he lifts you from the kitchen floor. Once you're fully stabilized on both of your feet, you look at Harry, hands resting on his shoulders as he cups his hands around both your elbows, searching your face frantically for any sign of distress. "You alright?"

You nod, giving him a weak smile and sliding your arms up around his neck to pull him in for a hug. His arms immediately fall to wrap around your waist, pressing your body into his in a warm, comforting embrace.

"Sorry I couldn't finish making the cookies with you," You mutter into his ear, pressing your face into his neck.

"S'alright, I can manage on my own." He replies, rubbing his hand up and down the length of your back. He can feel the erratic thudding of your heart against his chest, your slow, shaky breaths fanning directly over his ear simultaneously. His heart aches.

After you take yourself back to your bedroom to rest, Harry finishes the cookies by himself. Due to his previous baking experience, the task is a breeze, but during the time he spends mixing and preparing the cookies, all he can think about is how angry he is with Deidre. He'd seen her, time and time again, take advantage of your kindness without a single thought as to how it might make you feel. She's selfish, and you're far too good for her. Deidre doesn't deserve to call you her best friend.

Just as he begins to pull the steaming, golden cookies from the oven, the sound of the front door swinging open from behind him catches his ear. Deidre stumbles in from the pouring rain, fumbling around as she removes her sandals and tosses her tote bag to the floor next to them.

He pokes his head into the living room to look at her. She's almost completely soaked-- her long, dark hair is sopping wet, clumping together in thick strands, and her thin cover-dress is soaked completely through, sticking to her figure like a glove. He hadn't even noticed it's been raining this entire time.

"Hey! Mini golfing got cut short 'cause of the rain." She smiles, pushing her hair out of her face as she looks at him.

He responds with a low grunt, stepping back into the kitchen without a single word. Her peppiness annoys him.

"Did you bake something?" She continues, sauntering into the kitchen. "Smells fantastic!"

"Chocolate chip cookies," he replies bluntly as he wipes the counter down with a damp towel.

"Can I have one?"

"Sure, do whatever you want." He snaps, tossing the towel into the sink in frustration.

She frowns at him, her shoulders dropping a little at the sight of the slight scowl on his face and the sudden outburst he'd just had. "What's your deal?"

He turns to her. "What's MY deal? My fucking 'deal' is that you were meant to come here to spend time with your best friend and the longest you've spent in the same vicinity with her is when you're sleeping! She came here expecting to find a distraction from the shitty time she's been having at school and you've made it worse for her!"

Deidre stands in shock, the hand that had been reaching for a cookie now fallen limp at her side.

"She's in bed resting right now because she had a panic attack on the kitchen floor not even an hour ago-"

"That's not my fucking fault!" She interrupts him, throwing her arms out expressively.

"Maybe not, but you're not doing anything to help her! You knew she was having a hard time at school and invited her here as a distraction, yet you left her to spend two weeks all by herself! If I hadn't have come along, she'd have been left on her own or forced to join you on your little escapades without a single choice." He huffs, yanking the strings of his apron to untie them from each other before pulling it over his head and hurling it to the ground.

“You know, I asked her every time I went out if she wanted to come with me,” Deidre grumbles, shaking her head, “but she turned me down every single time.”

“Yeah, y’know why she turned you down?” Harry immediately retorts with a growl. “Because she didn’t want to spend time with a couple of random blokes that you know far better than she does!”

She snaps her mouth shut, a deep scowl etched across her brow as she stands in front of him.

"You have no regard for anyone else besides yourself and I am not going to let you ruin this trip for her. So, PLEASE, keep doing exactly what you're doing because I'm positive she's had more time with me than the two of you ever had together!" With that, Harry storms out of the room and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving Deidre standing speechless in the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Deidre, the quarrel wakes you from your slumber in the other room, causing you to become a bit curious and move closer to the door so that you can listen to the lava spewing from both sides. The fight isn’t long, but you hear nearly every word. The way Harry so passionately defends you in the situation, which had initially caused you to feel so unbelievably helpless, gives you a sense of comfort. You know he cares about you, but there’s something so endearing about actually hearing him defend you with so much fervor.

The slamming of Harry’s bedroom door echoes down the hallway, indicating the end of their conversation. You step away from your own door, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the mattress as you sit. You can hear Deidre walking down the hallway, so to make it seem like you weren’t eavesdropping on their entire conversation, you return to where you were on the bed previously and pretend like you’re asleep.

“Harry?” Your knuckles rap against the wood of his bedroom door gently, careful not to wake Deidre in the other room by knocking too loudly. There’s a brief pause and a shuffling of bed sheets from behind the door before it cracks open, revealing Harry in his sleepy, disheveled state.

“Hi,” He croaks, licking his lips and crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. “Is everything alright?”

You sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously. “Yeah, um- sorry, everything’s fine, I’m just- I’m having some trouble sleeping and- this is stupid, but… could I stay in here with you?” It takes a moment for him to process your words, but once he does he’s nodding and stepping aside to beckon you into his room. “I’m really sorry, I know you were probably sleeping-”

“S’alright, babe, don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Why don’t you go and get comfortable on the bed while I grab us some tea?”

You nod, giving him a small, tired smile as he steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. You make your way over to his bed, the duvet pulled back along with the sheets, indicating where he’d been lying on the bed moments ago. Your knees land on the soft fabric as you crawl further into the queen sized bed, finding your place on the other side where the duvet is untouched. A warm mixture of chamomile, jasmine, and a hint of cedar wood engulfs you when you lay your head on his pillow. The smell is intoxicating, one whiff could send you into a peaceful, drunken slumber. But, instead of actually falling asleep, you lie there for a few moments, listening to the gentle sounds of the ceiling fan spinning above your head as it lulls you into a quiet reverie.

Soon, Harry is entering the room again, breaking you from your thoughts as you look to find him stepping through the door with two white, porcelain mugs filled to the brim with steaming tea.

“I hope you’re alright with green tea ‘cause that’s all we have,” He murmurs, moving very slowly towards the bed.

“Green tea is perfect, thank you.” You smile, making sure not to burn yourself or spill any of the precious beverage as he crawls onto the bed beside you and places one of the mugs into your welcoming hands. Once the tea is secured, you adjust yourself so that you're sitting against the headboard, body tilted slightly in Harry's direction.

“So,” He starts, blowing on his own tea in an attempt to cool it down faster. “Is there a specific reason why you aren’t able to sleep?”

You take a deep breath, crossing your legs comfortably. “I'm, um, having a bit of anxiety and sleeping with Deidre just isn't helping since she's always making some sort of noise."

“Anxiety?” He frowns, moving his lips away from his tea so that he can be fully attentive to what you're saying. “Are you alright? Do you need me to help with anything?"

“I guess I'm still a bit on edge from earlier, so there isn't much you can do besides just keep me distracted,” you reply, forcing a small smile. "And the tea helps a lot as well."

"I can definitely do that." He smiles, leaning in to peck your lips gingerly. Of course, you welcome the kisses happily, pulling him in for a few more after he pulls away from the first one. He chuckles into your lips, deepening the kiss by tilting his head every so slightly to the side. Your free hand rests against his chest, so you can feel the gentle vibration of his chortle through the fabric of his hoodie and it makes you smile.

“Oh, also-” you continue after you've parted from his lips. “I never properly thanked you for the books you bought for me. I really do not deserve all that, but thank you, really. They will definitely be of good use.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “S’no problem. You seemed so enthralled by each of them and I thought it’d be a shame for you not to go home with at least a few.”

You smile to yourself, glancing down at your tea. "You really didn't need to do that, but, again, thank you." You reach up to gently cup the side of his face, leaning a little bit closer so that you can capture his lips between yours once again. This time, the kisses aren't as innocent. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to you as his tongue slowly slides against your bottom lip. If it weren't for the steaming mugs of tea in both yours and Harry's hands, it would be so much easier for either of you to take more control of the situation and move into something more than just kissing. You can sense that he wants to do something, and admittedly you do too, but you pull away before anything can happen.

"That isn't the only reason why I came here tonight, though," you speak again as your lips part from his.

He frowns slightly, tilting his head to the side as if to ask: "what's the other reason?"

"I overheard your conversation with Deidre earlier."

His eyes widen. "Oh, fuck- listen, I'm sorry I got kind of carried away. It just made me so angry to see her continuously treat you like that and I- I didn't mean to, like, speak for you-"

"No, Harry, it's okay," You interrupt him before he can continue rambling. "I appreciated it. I probably wouldn't have been able to do it myself, so thank you."

“I really didn't want to make it seem like you can't stand up for yourself, but I know it's just been affecting you so much lately and she needed to be put in her place, even if it made her angry."

"Thank you, really. Usually, Deidre would've been the person to stand up for me for something like that, but lately we just haven't felt as close. Even before this trip. Kinda started to think she just invited me here out of pity... And I honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. " You shrug, staring down into the tea to avoid direct eye contact.

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t think like that-- I’m sure she really did want you to come, but just got distracted by other things. She tends to do that sometimes.”

You shrug wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained to the gently swirling liquid in your cup.

When you look back up at him, you realize how cozy and warm he looks just sitting there in his hoodie and sweatpants, mug of steaming tea sitting at his pink lips. Your tank-top and shorts aren’t doing much to help with the chilled draft wafting throughout the house, so seeing him like that makes you want to crawl into his arms in search of warmth.

He notices the way you’re shivering and moves to set his mug on the bedside table. “Are you cold?”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, a little. The anxiety gives me cold flashes.” He quickly tugs his hoodie over his head as soon as the words leave your lips, carefully taking the mug of tea from your hands and placing it on the bedside table before holding the hoodie open for you to slide your arms in easily. Your heart nearly melts at the sentiment, sliding your arms into the sleeves and pulling the piece of clothing over your head. It’s warm, soft and smells just like him, and it immediately gives you a sense of comfort. “Thanks.” You smile.

“S’no problem,” he replies, reaching over for your mug to offer it back to you. You carefully take it from his hands, thanking him before taking another tentative sip. The liquid is still a bit hot, but it has cooled down just enough for you to sip at your own leisure.

“You’re way too sweet to me, Harry,” you sigh, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over your fingers.

“Y’know, I don’t think I am,” he shakes his head, moving closer to you on the creaky mattress. “Think I should be sweeter, show you how much you deserve it.”

You scoff quietly, looking away from him to hide your flustered expression. “Oh, shut up.”

He falls silent, the only sound that can be heard being the shuffling of the sheets and creaking of the mattress as he moves closer to you again. And then you feel it: his lips pressed to your shoulder through the thick material of his hoodie. It’s soft but it’s there and as soon as you turn your head to look at him, he pulls away, staring directly into your eyes with an almost unreadable expression.

“You deserve so much more than what you think you deserve. I wish I could show you that.”

You maintain eye contact with him, breath caught in your throat. You’re rendered speechless at the depth of his words, forced to take slow, deep breaths to calm the pounding of your heart as he inches closer. You open your mouth to respond, but you’re unable to speak a single word other than the faint murmur of his name.

His hand finds both of yours as they clutch the warm mug of tea, (tighter than you’d initially intended due to the tension clouding your brain) carefully prying it from your fingers before placing it on the bedside table. You angle your body towards him, taking his face in your hands before moving forward to plant your lips against his. He immediately returns the kiss in a slightly more fervent manner, pushing you to fall back against the pillows as he cages you in with his arms.

Despite the unexpected escalation of what began as an innocent conversation, Harry begins kissing you slowly, his tongue laving over your bottom lip and into your mouth. You allow his body to move between your legs as he kisses you, your hands holding desperately onto the nape of his neck and curve of his jaw.

“Wanna show you,” He mutters between hot, wet kisses. “Can I do that?” His face hovers over yours for a moment, waiting for you to say something.

“Yeah- yes, please.” You breathe, reaching up to place your hand on the back of his neck and pull his lips back into yours.

Immediately, Harry’s fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts, helping you tug them down your bare legs and toss them to the side before he lets his hands glide down your legs from your thighs to your calves, reveling in the softness of your skin. He pulls his lips away from yours, staring down into your eyes as his hand falls between your legs, fingers slowly finding your clit over your warm, damp panties.

You hadn’t planned any of this so, of course, so your panties are nothing special, but when Harry lets his head fall down to look at where his fingers meet your sex, a shaky sigh leaves his pink lips. It sounds as if he’s in pain just from the sight of you and he hasn’t even taken your panties off yet.

His lips fall to your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses along each side before trailing down the front of your hoodie clad chest. Once he reaches your lower region, his arms hook beneath your legs, slinging them over his shoulders as he moves to lie on his stomach between them. His hot breath washes over your clothed cunt, causing your legs to quiver around his shoulders at the sensitivity and you suck in a breath to hold back a gasp.

He starts slowly as he peels the soft cotton of your panties from your skin, dragging them ever so slowly down your legs before nudging them aside on the bed. You’re finding it increasingly difficult not to squirm beneath his scorching gaze, but with his arms locked tight around your thighs, your movements are clearly limited.

Harry begins to press gentle, open-mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly between each kiss. Much to your dismay, he pulls away, his knees still planted on the mattress between your legs as he scoops his luscious hair into his hands and pulls it back into a quick, messy bun. You lie there watching him, chest heaving with your labored breaths and he smirks.

“Haven’t even started and you’re already out of breath,” he drops back down to hover over your body and you're left to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat radiating from your skin to your palms. His long fingers circle your wrists, gently tugging your hands away from your face so that he can plant another firm kiss to your lips. "You sure you wanna keep going?"

He stares down at you with a cautious and gentle look in his eyes as he waits for you to respond. His need for consent is comforting and you can tell he really cares. "I'm positive. Please, keep going."

Content with your response, Harry smiles, pecking your lips one last time before crawling back down your body and slinging your legs back over his shoulders just like they were just moments ago. Since he'd removed your panties, there's no barrier between his lips and your glistening sex, his warm breath washing over your sensitive skin and causing your thighs to quiver ever so slightly.

"Ready?" He asks quietly, virescent eyes meeting yours through thick, brown lashes.

His purposeful prolonging has caused you to grow a little impatient, so you huff a frustrated "please," to him in hopes of speeding up the process. He chuckles a little, but finally brings his mouth to your hot skin, tongue peaking out from between his lips to slowly drag against your clit. A shaky breath escapes your lips at the initial contact, and then he presses forward, wrapping his pink, swollen lips around your sensitive button, sucking gently and it causes a much louder moan to tumble from your mouth. Your hand falls to his head, fingers pushing into the hair that was once pulled tight against his head by the messy bun. He lifts his head slightly at the sound of your moan, bringing a finger to his glistening lips as he gazes up at you, mischievous glint behind his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry." You whisper breathlessly and he shakes his head, shoulders shaking with his slight laughter.

His mouth finally returns to your lips, eyes trained to yours to ensure that you don't make any more loud noises before he delves back in, fully devoting himself to your pleasure. Your lip slips between your teeth in a feeble attempt to contain the breathless whimpers and moans itching to spill from your mouth and your hand continues to press into his hair. The pleasure you feel from just his lips and tongue is undeniably amazing. It's obvious the man doesn't shy away when it comes to foreplay and that only eggs on your aroused state.

Languid strokes of Harry's tongue gradually turn into quick, firm flicks that cause your thighs to quiver with pleasure as you clamp your own hand over your mouth to muffle your involuntary noises. He hums against you purposefully so that the vibrations double the work of his tongue and lips into a delicious harmony of blissful ecstasy and your back arches from the sweat-damp sheets beneath you. Your skin is clammy and hot from the heat being emitted from your body, yet the uncomfortable, tacky feeling of it is the last thing on your mind. His mouth is a drug and you're an addict, beseeching for the next dose.

Muffled moans and the sound of his swollen lips colliding with your dripping folds fills the small bedroom and it only makes Harry move faster, desperate to have your release glistening against his chin and upper lip as he gazes down at your heaving body. He wants you to fall apart; he craves to watch you find that burning release within the pit of your stomach and melt into the sheets from the pleasure of it. If only you knew how many times he dreamt of having you in this exact position, nearly sobbing from the work of his skilled mouth.

"Thought about this so many times-" he pulls away, allowing his thumb to take the place of his lips and rub gentle circles against your throbbing clit. "Taste better than I could've ever imagined. Just wish I could really hear you."

His drawled words and the lack of warmth directly against your cunt draws you to look down at him breathlessly, unable to muster a response to his confession. He chuckles at that, not expecting a response before he returns to the task at hand. By now, you're teetering over the edge, aimlessly grasping for a pillow to press over your face in an attempt to silence the growing sounds that emit from the back of your throat. Finally, you find yourself toppling over the notorious edge, the pillow that's pressed firmly against your face throughout the entirety of your orgasm doing its job in muffling your noises.

Harry watches you pulse and shiver helplessly for just a few moments before his hands are pulling the pillow from your face and tossing it above your head so that he can kiss you again. His lips and tongue taste of you as he explores the depths of your mouth and your heart continues to pound against your chest with your labored breaths.

He pulls away from your face after a moment, smiling as he tilts his head to the side. "How was that?"

"That was-" a puff of air leaves your lips, "that was good."

"Just good?" He frowns, pecking his lips down the column of your neck.

“I- fuck, Harry I don’t even know what to say, it was amazing.” You laugh breathlessly, tucking your fingers into his hair.

“Amazing, hm?” He smirks. “Would you say it was five out of five stars?”

A broken laugh leaves your lips again. “Yeah, I’d say it was five out of five.” Heat thunders across your face as you breathe another flustered giggle and he chuckles along with you, leaning forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He presses a few soft, wet kisses to your skin and exhales, his warm breath causing goosebumps to bloom there. His ego has inflated quite a bit from your confession, but that doesn't hinder his desires to make you as comfortable and satisfied as possible.

“Do you need some water, or maybe a snack?”

You push yourself up onto your arms, frowning at him. “What about you?” It’s almost unbelievable to you that after he worked so tirelessly to make you come, his first thought is to ask you if you need anything more, as if he hasn’t already done enough for you.

He rolls over onto his back beside you, staring up at you. “What about me?”

You briefly glance down his body, noticing the visible tent in his sweatpants. “Can I do something for you?”

“If you want to,” he shrugs, trying in vain not to show his agony. He’s obviously uncomfortable. “But I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything.”

You nearly roll your eyes at his unwavering chivalry, wordlessly lifting yourself up and slinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “I want to.”

At that, Harry lifts himself up off of the bed and wraps an arm around your waist to press you into him, that small bit of friction alone causing a low whimper to slip past your lips. His mouth finds yours, fervently pulling kisses from your lips as he guides your hips against his own. You’ve imagined this scenario so many times, yet the feeling of your own fingers frantically coaxing you to release is nothing compared to the feeling of Harry’s warm body beneath you.

Even through the fabric of his sweatpants, you can feel how thick he is and it only makes you want to move faster. His lips have attached themselves to the spot between your jaw and neck, skillfully biting and sucking at the skin as your hips gyrate against his. You can already feel the burning sensation growing between your legs due to how sensitive you are from your previous orgasm, and Harry seems to be reaching his own climax as well. He’s clawing at your hips and ass, desperate to have you as close to him as possible as low grunts fall from his lips.

It doesn’t take long for you to find your release, choking out Harry’s name as your fingers tug and yank at his now lopsided bun. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, continuously swiveling your hips against his as he chases his own impending orgasm.

“Shit!” He groans a little too loudly as he comes, but you’re quick to shush him, slapping your palm over his mouth while your hips work him through his climax. Your thighs are burning and beads of sweat break out along every inch of your skin, but the satisfaction of knowing you’re working him down to his very last drop is enough to keep you going until neither you, nor him can take it anymore.

Once you finally fall limp against his body, he musters enough strength to roll you onto your back, pressing a few chaste kisses along your jawline.

“Was it five out of five?” You breathe, keeping your eyes shut as you lean your head back against the pillow.

“Hm?” He hums, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Would you rate my skills five out of five?”

“Oh, definitely.” He chuckles breathlessly.

feedback is always welcome and don’t forget to reblog!!

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#WOWOWOWOWOW #SO PROUD OF THIS #HOPE U GUYS LOVE IT #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry x you #harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry smut #smut #harry styles fanfic #one direction fanfic #best friends brother harry #dwm

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asnowperson · 3 years

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But are you reading Shoukoku no Altair?

As the nerd who spends way too much time while translating Yume no Shizuku, Kin no Torikago, I wanted to make a post on my first "Ottoman" manga: Shoukoku no Altair.

Left: A real-life Mahmut (Ottoman Sultan, Mahmut II). Right: Japanese Mahmut. I know that Altair has nothing to with his time period, but I can't help but think about Mahmut II everytime I hear the name "Mahmut". He's such a boss. So in my mind, a Mahmut can never be as bishounen as Tughril Mahmut.

I first saw that manga in the dark corners of LiveJournal years ago, at a time when there weren't even scanlations. And I LOVED the art. But back then, due to the lack of scans and because I couldn't even read the Japanese title, I forgot about it for years. Yes, I do have a very bad memory.

Fast forward to 2017, Shoukoku no Altair got an anime adaptation. And when was I going to start reading this Ottoman-inspired manga if not now? Like I did with DoD, I expected it to be an orientalist trainwreck. But little did I know that Katou Kotono had a degree in history and the more I got into Altair, the more I would be crying about how ignorant I was. I quickly caught up with the story. And boy, did I love it! (The anime adaptation doesn't do this manga justice. And I'm still mad that they skipped an entire sea battle.)

Published SnA volumes, minus the latest vol. 24, and the fanbook. Japan should bring SAL back already, I want to be able to buy my mangos without developing shipping strategies.

Warning for DoD fans, this is a full shounen manga. There is no shoujo romance to see here (I'm still mad at the editors for forcing that dancer girl in the story in the earlier volumes because a shounen manga had to have a female love interest. I'm glad we didn't get to see her again and if anything, not-Vlad the Impaler's cute daughter would make a better waifu for a pasha like Mahmut). It's about the wars between the not-Ottomans and the not-Holy Roman Empire, complete with some Italian city-state drama. It only has battles, politics and keikakus. Huge armies maneuver in battle, alliances are made and broken, heads fly, armies clash, cities are besieged, we peek at the logistics behind huge armies, and civil war and coup d'états can happen any moment! If you are in DoD for politics, I'm sure you will love Altair because it actually delivers in that department.

My little pasha can't be this smug. Vol. 20, and vol. 9's cover from the Milkazzar Altair art book (2014). Those volume covers have me screaming.

Unlike DoD, Altair is not a fully historical manga, so it's not based on real events nor there's a set time frame for it. But looking at the story elements, we can say that it's set somewhere around the second half of the 15th century. So it's somewhat close to DoD's time frame if we squeeze hard enough. I also think Burak Paşa, the "sultan" in Altair, kind of resembles to an old Suleiman I.

Every little detail in Altair is just chef's kiss! Katou-sensei has a vast knowledge of military tactics and uses it in every chapter of Altair. And huge kudos to Sense Scans and their translator, murakumo, who did a perfect job. Turkish written in kana hurts my brain, and I always check their scans before going "naruhodo!". Go check their Altair blog, it's awesome and has lots of info on the manga and you can find pretty manga artwork there. And after thanking them, go buy the manga in a language you can read, it's very likely licensed in yours.

Now my little inner fangirl will speak: Altair has the finest men and boys. You can't find this many bishounen even in 70s shoujo manga. Even if you don't care about all those battle tactics, you might care about all the bishies! Anyway have this very soft Bayezid to prove my point <3

Can you believe that this is the face of a murderer?

Let me also talk about the art in Shoukoku no Altair: It's gorgeous! That's all I can say. I legit spend minutes looking at the outfits and the accesories. Katou herself said that she was inspired by Turkish jewelry and created Altair. Check this Mahmut swag out:

Vol. 3's cover, scanned from the 2017 art book. I wish I knew how to process my images so that I could do sensei justice.

Shoukoku no Altair is licensed in English by Kodansha, and they are almost up-to-date with Japanese releases. Honestly the best timeline for reading Altair. Go read Altair while waiting for new DoD chapters.

#katokotono #shoukoku no altair #カトウコトノ #将国のアルタイル #yume no shizuku kin no torikago #drops of dreams

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Only in a Sitcom

Fandom: WandaVision Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Jimmy Woo Rating: T Chapter Count: 1/?

Summary: Darcy has no idea what the hell's going on with this WandaVision thing, but neither does Jimmy. It's kinda fun to have somebody to binge-watch alternate reality TV with.

The snack selection is paltry to begin with. Darcy doesn’t share, out of spite. Except with Jimmy, because he’s cool and he actually called her “Dr. Lewis” until she waved off the formality and let him use her first name. He agrees with her about the snacks. If this were purely an FBI operation instead of the mixed-jurisdiction playdate it is, he might be more defensive over the lame flavour choices. As it is, the Bureau has issued no statement taking credit for the sad, muddied, salt-and-vinegar-copycat chips, so she and Jimmy spend as much time criticizing them as eating them.

Darcy tries not to outwardly sulk any less than usual when her fancy coffeemaker arrives. She pats the box and says, “Yep, important equipment acquisition,” then lugs it to her desk, giving inquisitive glances the Dirty Harry squint until they look away.

She used to be the kind of girl to hand out coffees willy-nilly, but that kind of girl is an intern and Dr. Darcy Lewis isn’t so easy. She hoards her shiny dispenser of caffeine like a troll. If they played nice with her to start, she might be more accommodating now. Though it takes up a lot of space at her desk, it’s worth it; the coffeemaker is the one thing that doesn’t have a screen and therefore the one thing she can stare at in peace until she drags herself back to data and frequencies and scanning for other feedback and, most importantly, the greatest little ’50s (and beyond) sitcom that never was: WandaVision.

Her reasoning for a full rewatch at half speed is that she’s hoping to pick up on any other telling details, anything more modern than the time warp she’s witnessing. After Monica mentioned Ultron in the episode where Wanda gives birth, Darcy realized it was possible that there were earlier slippages. Ok, she hasn’t found any that specific yet, but on this rewatch (the third), she has help.

“How’s your cappuccino?” she hisses at Jimmy.

“It’s perfect. I want to sit in it like a hot tub,” he says back.

“Right?”

Darcy pulls at her hat, getting it to cover her ears just right. The Department of Somebody or Something has a bee in their bonnet (ha) over the transformation of that one dude into a beekeeper and they’re going in and out a lot, leaving the door open. It’s chilly. This is the kind of thing that pisses Darcy off when people don’t acknowledge it. Must all creature comforts fall by the wayside to make room for whatever-the-heck branch of engineering or nuclear something-or-other? Forget calling the people around her clowns—they are clearly reverse mimes, failing to react to something that’s definitely here: the cold of working into the night in a New Jersey field, with nothing but her perpetually overheating laptop to keep her warm. That, and coffee.

She takes a long sip of hers and sneaks a look at Jimmy to see if he seems annoyed that she spoke while they’re working. After running through the episodes so many times, she’s succumbed to the deeply human instinct to talk during the commercials. Yeah, yeah, yeah, even the commercials have meaning here—Stark toaster this, Hydra watch that—but it’s all being recorded. Her brain has designated the ads “tune out time,” and repurposed them for time spent either staring blankly at the screen or talking to Jimmy.

“Hey,” she says when she slurps from her mug too loudly and he still doesn’t complain, “you’re pretty chill.”

“Am I?”

“When you’re not talking about family planning.”

Jimmy frowns.

“I’m not getting any younger.”

“Yeah, but you’re not that old.” Darcy darts a glance at him. “You don’t look that old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure it’ll happen for you,” she adds a few minutes later, when she notices the funny longing look he gets on his face at the part where Vision holds Tommy for the first time.

“Who has the time?” Jimmy uses his mug to motion towards the happy family on Darcy’s non-flat television. “Reality is a secret joint stakeout where we may be getting irradiated by the energy field over Westview. Sit-down dinners and painting the nursery only happen on TV.”

She nods along and says, “Also, hostile alien invasions.”

“Yes! How am I supposed to meet someone when it’s one supernatural catastrophe after another!”

Despite his distress, Darcy cackles.

“Man, the stories I could tell you.”

“About dating or supernatural catastrophes?”

She considers this.

“I mean, both. There’s some overlap there. Nothing serious though,” she notes calmly while Wanda screams her head off pushing out Billy. “I don’t even have a reliable apocalypse booty call to text whenever the world seems like it might end. Do you?”

“God no.”

They both pause to aww over the on-screen couple cradling their swaddled newborns.

“You want some licorice?” she asks. “I snagged it earlier and I don’t want to rattle the wrapper when we get to the scene where Monica asks Wanda about Pietro.”

She sets her mug down and retrieves the bag from behind one of the monitors, holding it out to Jimmy with her eyes still on the screen. At the sharp tug that nearly yanks the packet out of her hand, she turns to see what’s up. The pieces are stuck together and, giggling, she has to grab the licorice next to the one he’s trying to pull out. They peel them apart with a tacky sound that Darcy finds so satisfying. She tosses the bag onto the desk and leans back, crossing her leg and bobbing her foot anxiously, anticipating the ominous cut between Monica confronting Wanda and the couple bouncing the twins on the couch as the credits roll.

“Anything?” a voice asks brusquely from behind them.

Darcy whips her head around, licorice hanging out of the corner of her mouth, to find a S.W.O.R.D. agent snooping on her and Jimmy’s binge session.

“Research,” Jimmy tells the man, biting off the end of his own strand of licorice, his cappuccino raised defiantly in his other hand.

“Carry on.”

“I don’t report to you,” Jimmy mumbles after him, jamming the licorice back into his mouth to soften.

Watching him, Darcy grins. He eats his licorice the same way she does.

#you bet I did #my writing #wandavision #Darcy Lewis #Jimmy Woo #Darcy Lewis x Jimmy Woo #Darcy x Jimmy

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anxiousgaypanicking · 3 years

Text

What You Need (Intrulogical)

Two days without eating and three without sleeping sounded like the normal schedule for college student Logan Berry. He's in class all day and works all night just to barely pay off his rent every month. Constant bills leave little room for bare necessities, and it's clear that his current lifestyle is very damaging. While looking for solutions, he comes across one that seems... mediocre at best, but he's desperate. What is this solution? A sugar daddy.

Taglist: @witchesgetstitchesblog @book-limerence @romans-dull-creativity

This is part four.

Masterlist

"What foods do you like to eat?"

Logan shrugs, responding with "I don't have much of an opinion on food," as he lets Remus search the expanse of his living room. They had moved out there with the promise they'd be undisturbed and could watch a movie or something, and Remus was currently looking for the remote to his giant, flat-screen television.

To Logan, it was no surprise that Remus couldn't find it, considering the overly decorated, and incredibly large room; it was stocked with art, an absurd amount of furniture, and weird décor that ranged from vases to marble statues.

Although, Logan's opinion on the hoard of decoration may be biased, considering he was raised in a minimalist household.

And now lived a literal minimalist life, considering the fact he only had about twenty-ish possessions to his name; his clothes included.

"Well, what do you eat?" Remus then rephrases, hoping to at least get something valuable out of Logan. Something that'd give him more insight as to what foods Logan liked.

"Uh... there's this burger joint about ten minutes from my house," Logan answers. "If I have the money I'll buy a burger from there. Sometimes two, but that's only on special occasions."

Remus frowns as he listens to his answer, before sighing dramatically. "Now, that simply won't do!" Remus picks up his phone - Logan's eye was caught by the sparkly green case and high quality screen, and realizes the type of phone was similar to the one Janus owned - and clicks on an app, before handing the phone to Logan.

"Here's a variety of high quality take out places!" Remus exclaims. "It'll be delivered here quickly, mostly because I tip well and they all know me." He winks, and nudges Logan's arm, who's staring wide-eyed at all the choices presented to him, before he goes back to searching the expanse of the room for the remote.

He's never been offered such a variety, and he gulps as he inspects the prices of each individual meal, and even the sides.

No, he couldn't. This was all way too expensive! He wouldn't be able to afford any of this-

"Hey, Logan, you're looking a bit worried," Remus says, with a raised eyebrow, although there's a grin plastered to his face. "No need to fret, my newfound prince of panic-" Logan's brows furrow at the nickname. He didn't panic anywhere near enough to be dubbed such a thing, but he supposes he'll let Remus do what he wants. "-I'll pay for everything on the menu!"

"But-"

"We've discussed that I can pay you in other ways," Remus says, shutting Logan up before he can say anything about this ordeal. "And you deserve to be paid for sucking me off. Especially because you did it so well." He winks, and Logan rolls his eyes, although his face is flushed.

He quits complaining, for now, though, and instead looks through everything on the menu. He lands on the cheapest thing - a bowl of chili - and hands the phone back to Remus.

"That looks good," he says, and Remus hums, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, chili always seemed to remind me of human stew," Remus comments. "Like... stew made from human parts. Just the colour and the variety of texture."

Logan doesn't seem fazed at all, as he responds "absurd. Human's would have a wildly different taste and texture. Resources state that human meat tastes more reminiscent of pork, instead of beef, therefore comparing it to chili would be inaccurate."

Remus stares at him, a mixture of surprise and adoration on his face. "Huh," is all that he says, as if in minor disbelief. Logan raises an eyebrow, confused as to what he was so stunned by, before Remus finally says "not many people know that. Although, I wasn't referring to the taste. The colour is what really reminds me of it. That deep red, you know?"

"Human blood would be darker when gathered into a bowl," Logan states, matter-of-factly. He then changes the subject, deciding he was more curious as to what Remus would eat from such a place. "What are you going to order?" he inquires, watching as Remus stops his search momentarily in order to scan the menu.

"Probably some steak..." Remus says, after a moment, continuing with "although, they have good filet mignon, too. Maybe I'll spoil myself a bit and get both."

Logan couldn't imagine doing such a thing; would Remus even eat both? Logan knew that if he happened to be presented with two meals, he'd try to make the food stretch over a week, or maybe even two, so that he could save some of his money to pay rent, and maybe even spoil himself and order a ride to school or something.

Logan doesn't respond, and Remus doesn't seem to be expecting a response, as he places the order with a hum, and then tosses his phone to the side. He moves his search to the couch, and upon pulling up a throw pillow, he finds the remote and his face lights up in a pleased smile.

He collapses on the couch himself moments later, and then without hesitation he turns to Logan. His hands grab Logan's waist and hoist the man into his lap. Remus's chest presses against his back, and an arm is wrapped securely around Logan's hips, keeping him pressed tight against Remus.

Remus's breath fans against his neck as the man obliviously clicks on the television, scrolling through the multitude of apps he'd subscribed to in order to find one that would carry a decent amount of movies for the two of them to watch.

"What movies do you like?" Remus asks, his chin coming to rest on Logan's shoulder. "Any particular genre? Horror, comedy, romance?" His face scrunches up when he says 'romance,' and noticing it out of the corner of his eye, Logan quietly snickers.

"Documentaries, preferably," he then answers, honestly. "I haven't watched any in a while, though." He hasn't had the time to do so, considering he lived on a strict schedule that required sticking to, but even if he had more free time, he didn't have the money to pay for something else to run up his electricity bill, or the channels that he'd have to pay for in order for some menial entertainment regardless.

It just wasn't worth it.

Remus hums as he sifts through documentaries, before finding one about a certain serial killer. "What about this?" he asks, hoping it'd be something that could interest them both. "It talks in detail about his murders, and pays genuine respect to the victims, too."

"You've seen it before?"

Remus shrugs, stating "I have a lot of free time. It's not like there's much to do around here, anyway."

Logan turns his head to stare at Remus for a moment. His expression is somewhat puzzled, and somewhat cold, as he's reminded that Remus is absurdly rich (although it's not necessarily easy to forget). It's almost as if he's evaluating Remus, and Remus is oblivious to it, just looking between the television and Logan with a happy smile.

Must be nice to not have to work, or go through school, or to spend all of your time doing something. He couldn't imagine not being busy, and he shifts his position slightly on Remus's lap as he's reminded that right now he isn't busy. He knows he will be in an hour or so, and that thought tires him more than he remembered it doing in the past, but Remus didn't have to do anything for himself.

Born into money, had people to clean for him; he didn't even have to make his own food. He was either out of school or didn't continue into college, so he didn't have the stress of achieving things academically weighing him down either...

"Hellooooo," Remus sings, bringing the remote up in order to lightly tap it against Logan's head, effectively drawing Logan out of his head. "You never answered me. What are you thinking about, huh? Is it... sex?"

"It's not sex," Logan replies, with a roll of his eyes. "And it's not important, either. In regards to your question, it looks fine. We can watch this."

"Shame," Remus comments, as he clicks play on the documentary. "I'm always thinking about sex, especially because you look pathetically hot when you're being fucked by me. The amount of things I've thought about doing to you in the short time I've known you is nearly enough to drive to drive me mad-"

A rattle at the door is what cuts Remus off, much to Logan's relief. Blood had begun to rush to his face at Remus's words, and he couldn't help wondering what Remus had imagined doing to him, but he dares not ask out of fear of figuratively dying of embarrassment.

Remus himself looks confused, pausing the documentary despite the fact nothing important had really started to play, and turns to the door with a raised eyebrow. After a moment, though, the door swings open revealing a man in a red jacket holding multiple bags. There's another man with him, this one dressed up formally, also carrying bags, as if they were some sort of servant.

"Take those up to my room for me," the man in red orders, before dumping all the bags he was currently holding onto the other, stretching moments after. "Those too, please. Thanks!"

Oh, so he was a servant.

Logan watches the formally dressed man walk off, before he hears Remus state "I thought you weren't supposed to be home until around ten." At most, Remus sounds a bit annoyed, but otherwise it's a genuine question.

As the man in red walks closer, Logan gets a better look at his face.

He looked... identical to Remus. It was the exact same face, without a mustache, and as Logan's eyes trailed down the figure, he could see that the two had near matching body types as well, although this one definitely had a bit more muscle to him.

He ends up staring right back at Logan, before he answers "my baby cancelled on me, so I took a shopping trip instead. I was still out for a few hours." He scans Logan the same way Logan did to him, before clearing his throat. "Who's this?" he asks, approaching the couch and sitting near Logan moments later, leaning closer to him. The man's curious green eyes seemed to be studying Logan in less of a logical manner, and more of a romantic one.

"This is Logan," Remus says, smiling from where his chin is resting on Logan's shoulder. "He's my sugar baby."

Remus then shifts his position slightly and holds Logan a tad tighter, as Roman grabs Logan's chin without a second thought and effortlessly tilts Logan's head side to side.

"Logan, this is Roman. He's my brother, as I assume you've already figured out," Remus then says, eyeing Roman closely as he looks over Logan's face.

Finding his voice, Logan clears his throat and states "I didn't know he was your twin," before he gently tugs his face away from Roman's hand. Roman very clearly pouts at the action, seemingly enjoying being able to move and stare at Logan's face as he pleased. The expression radiated a feeling of entitlement that made Logan both curious and spiteful.

"Unfortunately," Roman utters, but Remus hears and snickers as he shifts his position on the couch in order to kick Roman's thigh, which earns a pout in response.

He scoots closer regardless, though, almost as curious about Logan as Logan was about him. Remus doesn't keep Roman from trailing his pinky and middle finger over Logan's neck, and ends up pulling down the turtleneck to reveal a bunch of clear hickeys.

"Looks like you get enough use out of him," Roman comments, playfully. Despite the sexual meaning of his words, he sounds surprisingly lighthearted.

Remus, on the other hand, drops his voice low, as he states "it's hard to resist using someone as pretty as him," which flusters Logan more than it should. He glances away, but Roman's fingers find his chin again, and move Logan's face back towards his, seemingly wanting to stare into Logan's eyes.

"I can see that," Roman hums, leaning a bit closer, before his eyes flicker towards his brothers. "I'm having trouble resisting him too. The plight I'm currently in is nothing less than heart-wrenching." His words are spoken dramatically, as if Roman was reciting them from a play, but Logan feels Remus's nails dig into his sides, awfully reminiscent of the hold Remus would have on him during sex.

"Back off, Roman," Remus grits, glaring at his brother. "You didn't let me play with your baby; you don't get to play with mine."

"But that was different!"

Remus rolls his eyes. "If anything, this situation is different. Logan's never even met you before! Besides, I don't want to scare him away just yet. I still have a lot to introduce him to."

Logan hardly has the time to ponder what implications that statement has, before Roman juts in with "really? Knowing you I would have figured you would have gotten..." Roman's face flushes, much to Logan's surprise, as he continues "interesting with him by now." Interesting? All the descriptive words to choose from, and somehow Logan felt as if that described the least.

'Interesting' had a plethora of meanings. It had both good and bad connotations. The amount of things that could fall under the category of 'interesting' is almost overwhelming.

Remus scoffs. "Do you really think that lowly of me? Honestly, Roman, I may suck, but it's primarily dick." His joke makes Roman roll his eyes, but it surprisingly makes Logan's shoulders relax. He didn't know what to think of this situation; the attention from Roman was making him blush, but Remus's hold on him was primarily overtaking his mind, but the two brothers seemed to be engaged in a conversation that Logan couldn't determine as lighthearted or serious.

Curse his lack of social skills; he should really learn how to read situations better.

"I wouldn't start him off with things that are so rough. I got to train his pretty body first..." Remus's flirtatious tone is back in a matter of seconds, and the hands that were previously holding tight to Logan's waist now ease up considerably, and instead Logan feels them slip just barely under his shirt.

His fingertips tease the skin above the waist of Logan's jeans, and Logan semi-wishes he'd tucked his shirt in after getting dressed.

He's not uncomfortable with the touch, though. More so.... embarrassed that Remus is still doing such a thing, even in front of his brother. Even if the action wasn't inherently sexual in itself, Logan still wasn't touched like this normally, and it felt amplified to him. Intimate, in the sense that it was supposed to be personal, but a part of him liked the fact Remus was so casual with touching him whenever.

Admittedly, he quite liked the affection he'd received during their few meetups, and now wasn't any different.

"You should let me help," Roman says, with a pout. "After all, I was left alone today. It's a nice act of kindness."

"You forget who I am," Remus replies, with a shrug. "Now go choke on the makeup you bought and leave us be. We're in the middle of something." Remus is intent on kicking Roman out, clearly wanting his alone time with Logan. After promising him such, Logan assumed Remus was just trying to hold true to his words, but it's not like Remus could have anticipated Roman's meetup would be cancelled.

Roman pouts, but sighs regardless. "Fine, just don't have sex in here, please. I don't want to smell sweat while trying to enjoy my shows." His face is scrunched up at the thought, and Logan realizes that both of the twins are quite animated with their expressions.

It's a clear sign about their inner feelings; Logan couldn't imagine being so expressive; The amount of vulnerability that comes with expressing was scary.

Roman stands up, and blows a kiss towards Logan that Logan can't help but blush and look away at, before he walks off, pulling out his phone as he does so. Logan can hear his loud voice echoing as he presumably calls someone, before it eventually fades away, leaving him and Remus alone again.

"I'd say sorry for him, but I'm pretty sure he was getting me back for flirting with his client," Remus states, completely serious with his words. "He usually leaves me be, mostly because he doesn't like to be seen with me. Especially out in public."

Logan stays silent, but internally he tries to picture Roman and Remus side by side. Roman was in the red, sleeveless turtleneck he'd walked in with, and the tight white jeans that showed off his leg muscles, and Logan couldn't help picturing Remus in the attire he'd first met the man in. Side by side, Roman did, in fact, look rich. On the other hand, Remus looked basically homeless. There was clear juxtaposition between the two, and Logan happened to like that a lot as well.

To each their own type of style, though, and Logan honestly liked the way Remus dressed.

Remus then turns back to the television, unpausing the show and diverting all of his attention back to that. He shifts their position once more, laying back on the couch and bringing Logan to lay against his chest; their legs were entwined, while Remus's arms wrapped around Logan fully. One rested casually on his ass, while the other slipped up the back of his shirt, gently rubbing the skin and occasionally dragging his nails ever-so-lightly down Logan's spine, earning shudders from the man that Remus would smile at.

However, the predictability of his actions and the surprisingly gentle nature of them seemed to relax Logan, and before he could stop himself, his eyes were drooping.

The documentary was interesting, but he couldn't focus on it. He was reminded of how tired he was once his eyes stayed closed for a few seconds, because when he tried to re-open them, it took a lot of effort. The slight ache in his eyes almost seemed to be them begging to be closed again - begging for Logan to get some much needed rest.

He closes them again, with a relaxed sigh, head pressed to Remus's chest. He hears Remus's steady heartbeat, and it only serves to lull him further into sleep.

He doesn't realize he actually passed out until he's gently being shaken awake about a half an hour or so later. The smell of food wafts through the air, and Logan almost starts drooling at how delicious it smelled.

He blearily blinks opens his eyes, wanting to search for the source of said smells, only to find that everything's blurry. He goes to question as to why he can't see, before Remus is helping him sit up and then carefully sliding Logan's glasses back onto his face.

"I took them off when I realized you were asleep," Remus explains, noticing Logan's confused look. "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable, or accidentally break them by moving. Roman did that once and he was blinded for like two weeks because he refused to admit to our parents that he'd broken them, even though they could have ordered him a new pair that would have arrived in a matter of hours."

Huh, rich privilege must be nice.

"Our food just got here," Remus then states, motioning to the bags filled with cheap Styrofoam containers. "I had one of the butlers bring it in for us so I didn't have to move you."

"Thanks," Logan mumbles, covering his mouth as he yawns before he maneuvers himself off of Remus's lap. He notices Remus's bottom lip jut out in a pout, but the man doesn't say anything.

Remus moves to grab the bag of food, carefully pulling out containers and setting them on the table. He sets Logan's cylindrical container, presumably full of chili, in front of him, and moments later tosses a plastic spoon and a couple napkins near it too. While he pulls everything out, he jokingly says "If the documentary was boring you, you could have just said so." He's grinning, and he shoots Logan a playful smirk.

Logan can tell by the tone of his voice that Remus is teasing him, but he still feels the need to correct him. "I didn't find the documentary boring," Logan says, staring at the objects Remus pulls out of the bag. He wants to grab his chili, but he doesn't want to seem... ill-mannered.

He's also still trying to wake himself up fully, despite the overwhelming urge to lay back against Remus and fall asleep once again, and doesn't want to risk accidentally making a mess over Remus's furniture. "I was just tired. I enjoyed the parts I watched, though," Logan then continues, watching as Remus grabs one of the other to-go boxes, and opens it, revealing a steak, fries, and even a side of cooked vegetables.

Logan's stomach grumbles at the mere sight, and he flushes in embarrassment as he looks away.

He didn't watch much of the show, truth be told, but he always enjoyed a good documentary. He momentarily considers asking Remus if they could watch it again sometime, so he can fully watch and process everything that was happening in it, but he doesn't want to bore Remus by having him watch the same thing yet again, or practically invite himself over to Remus's house.

However, Remus appears to be reading his mind. As he cuts up his steak, he says "you didn't sleep through that much of it. Just a lot of the exposition. We can always watch it some other time, preferably when you're a bit more awake." Remus is snickering quietly to himself as he stabs a piece of his steak with his fork.

He finally glances back at Logan, and his smile temporarily falls from his face, as he instead raises an eyebrow and glances between Logan and his food on the table.

Admittedly, Remus didn't think the chili would be enough to completely fill Logan up, but Logan hadn't even reached for it yet. Surely he must be hungry; even if he'd eaten this morning, which Remus should have probably asked about, it's been hours since then.

"Logan?" Remus asks, and Logan, who was previously resting his head in his hands, snaps up, almost as if he was jolting awake.

Remus quickly takes a bite of his steak, before setting the fork down and turning to face Logan entirely. "Are you still tired?" he asks, mouth still full. At least he resumes chewing with his mouth closed after speaking.

Logan shakes his head, although he covers another yawn.

"You haven't started eating yet," Remus points out, and Logan narrows his eyes as he stares ahead at the table, before shaking his head slightly. He then scoots forward, until he's sliding off the couch.

Once seated on the floor, he grabs the container of chili and pops open the lid, grabbing the plastic spoon moments later. The smell of that makes his stomach grumble again, so he hardly hesitates before digging his spoon into the food and wolfing down a few bites in a matter of seconds.

He's momentarily distracted, though, as he watches Remus slide off the couch and next to him out of the corner of his eye.

Logan quickly wipes his mouth before glancing over at Remus. "What are you doing?" he asks, curious as to why Remus had seated himself on the floor when he could have instead had the entire couch to himself.

"What are you doing," Remus counters, in a playful tone. "You're allowed to eat on the couch, you know."

"I didn't want to risk spilling any food on it," Logan responds, stirring his spoon around in his chili. "Especially since I'm still in the process of waking myself up."

Remus hums in response, before Logan continues, saying "you could have stayed on the couch, though." He would say that he's sure Remus would be more responsible with his food than Logan would, but glancing over at Remus's face made quite the opposite statement.

Juice from the steak was practically dripping down his chin, and he had already managed to stain the shirt he wore.

At least he didn't have to worry about buying a new one; Logan could only imagine how many sets of clothes Remus already had strung up in his closet.

"I'd rather sit next to you," Remus sings, before taking another bite of his steak. He's smiling as he chews, and Logan doesn't respond, not quite knowing how to match the excited energy.

Logan doesn't see what difference it makes whether Remus sits on the couch or next to him, but Remus seems happy, and Logan decides he's too hungry to really care about Remus's reasoning for doing the things he does. Instead, Logan turns his attention back to his chili, eating rather fast out of habit.

The container of chili is quite small, but that was sort of the point. Logan wanted something cheap, as that's just what he was used to getting, but by the time he finishes it, he's still hungry for more.

As he sets the now-empty container down on the table, he sets his other arm over his stomach, hoping to suppress any other crude noises that his stomach might make that would give away the fact he isn't entirely satisfied.

He's still in the mindset to not ask for more, automatically assuming he doesn't have the ability to pay for more, even though Remus paid for everything.

A couple minutes go by, the silence only being cut through by Remus's occasional chewing, before suddenly Logan's being nudged. He glances Remus's direction, and sees Remus cutting off a piece of his steak, before he holds his fork out to Logan, with a piece of steak stabbed on the end of it.

Logan stares at it for a minute, before glancing up at Remus with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't understand," he states, and watches as Remus rolls his eyes, before hurriedly chewing and swallowing the food in his mouth.

He clears his throat after it's down, before stating "eat it."

"What?" Logan asks, hoping for a bit more clarification. Without hesitation, Remus jabs Logan in the face with the piece of steak, smearing juice over his cheek and making Logan recoil with surprise.

"Eat it," Remus repeats, tilting his head to the side slightly, as he wiggles his fork in a potential attempt to seduce Logan into eating the piece of meat. "I bought two whole meals for myself, and there's no way that small bowl of chili filled your cute little body up. Eat some of mine."

"But- but you bought it for yourself," Logan counters, puzzled as to why Remus would want to share his food - the food that he bought for himself and has been eating.

"Then I can share it with whoever I want," comes Remus's confident reply. "And I want to share it with you. You'll be a good boy and eat it for me, won't you?"

Will he? A blush rises to Logan's cheeks at Remus's words, and it was a silly thing to get overly flustered by, especially since Remus was using the affectionate term to try and persuade Logan to eat some of the steak he'd bought for himself, but he couldn't help the way his body reacted.

Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Logan leans forward and bites the steak, sliding it off the fork and into his mouth, before he looks down and chews it, his face getting hotter by the second.

By the time he swallows it, another piece jabs at his cheek, and it becomes increasingly clear that Remus plans to feed quite a bit of this to Logan.

Piece after piece, Logan's fed steak, fries, and even some of the vegetables that Remus has, and once Remus gets bored of that, he opens his container containing the filet mignon, and cuts into that next, before offering the first piece to Logan.

The food is unlike anything Logan can recall eating throughout his entire life. The last time he had a home-cooked meal already seemed so distant, but high-quality restaurant food was something he'd hardly experienced throughout his life at all.

He was never given the luxury of eating juicy steaks and drinking fancy wine; his parents worked a lot so often Logan was left to scrounge up whatever he could around the house.

The money they made was spent on giving him a good education through private schools, for fixing up the house they lived in, and for the ever persistent bills.

He momentarily wonders how they were doing now that they stopped paying for his schooling. Has their financial situation gotten better? Logan could only hope so; he was reminded that it'd been forever since he'd even last spoken to them. Maybe he'd consider giving them a call sometime soon.

He's pulled out of his thoughts as he hears Remus snicker and say "that's the last of it. We sure finished those up quick." His intonation is playful, but as Logan's eyes flicker over the now-empty containers, he's surprised by how much he and Remus have eaten.

More specifically, him, considering he'd ingested his entire bowl of chili, and was probably also fed half of the food Remus had originally gotten for himself.

And yet, he feels weirdly good. Satiated.

"I'm glad you were here to help me eat the rest," Remus continues, as he grabs Logan and pulls the man into his lap. "Truth be told, I got two meals on purpose. I was looking for an excuse to get you to eat more," he then admits, hands groping over Logan's upper thighs and hips. Logan knows there isn't much fat to squeeze, and Remus almost seems to be pouting over that fact, but he's not surprised that this was Remus's true intention the whole time.

Surprisingly, Logan actually finds it kind of amusing.

"Plus, now we've finished just in time for me to take you to the lame second job you still have because you like to deprive me," Remus adds, with his bottom lip jutted out. He sounded like he was whining.

Logan eyes snap open though, and he hurries to grab his phone so he can check the time. "Oh, God," he mutters under his breath, sighing as he rubs his eyes beneath his glasses. "I forgot about work."

Luckily, he wasn't late, but they needed to leave now.

"We have to go," Logan states, standing up. "Apologies for leaving this mess behind." He brushes himself off as he stares at the containers left on Remus's coffee table.

Remus just waves his hand dismissively, however, stating "it's fine; the maids will take care of it." He seems casual about leaving messes, and Logan supposes it's because he'd never had to pick up after himself before.

Remus stands up after him, and wraps an arm around Logan's waist, leading him to the front door. He asks Logan for the address, as he waves over a man outside, who Logan believes to be the chauffeur. Remus then relays the information Logan gave to him to the man, and then he opens one of the limo doors near the back.

Logan climbs in, thanking Remus as he does so, and Remus enters after him, shutting the door behind him.

Just like on the way to Remus's.... mansion, Remus pulls Logan into his lap, seemingly determining himself to be a safer seat than the actual seats. That, or he really liked holding Logan for some reason. Logan honestly couldn't guess why Remus would enjoy doing such a thing, so he assumed the former, even if that was illogical.

"I still don't understand why you haven't quit yet," Remus says, as he brings his mouth to Logan's neck, placing kisses over the expanse of skin he could reach, before huffing through his nose and pulling Logan's turtleneck down a bit, in order to expose more. "Most babies quit the moment they get a daddy."

The word 'daddy' makes Logan shiver uncomfortably, but he shakes it off, instead saying "I guess I just don't want to quit." He doesn't; he still needs the income. He doesn't know how reliable a service being a sugar baby is yet, either.

Sure, he'd made quite a bit from the couple instances he and Remus had been sexual together, and maybe Remus had splurged on food for him tonight, but Logan was still reasonably worried that that money wouldn't last him forever.

Bills were constant, materials for school were always needed, and he knew that if he let himself get lazy and comfortable, he'd be metaphorically smacked in the face with debt and hunger sooner than he could even predict.

And if he quit, he wasn't sure he could land another job that was close enough to his apartment after Remus ultimately decided to get rid of him. That's what usually happens to sugar babies, right? Logan should honestly do more research on them; he did basically jump into this headfirst.

He can feel Remus's pout against his skin, right before Remus starts mindlessly sucking marks into the already purple area.

He makes a few, teeth lightly grazing the skin as he does so, before he pulls away again.

"I don't understand you," Remus says, sounding completely serious, although his mouth is quirked up in a grin that reads the exact opposite. "Everyone else I've been with quit almost on the spot. Everyone Roman's ever been with, too."

"How many people have you guys been with?" Logan asks, shifting nervously on Remus's lap. He doesn't know why that question makes his stomach churn uneasily. Of course he couldn't expect Remus to have never been with other clients before, but it still feels like something Logan is scared to know the answer to.

Remus shrugs. "I can't speak on behalf of my brother, but I've only been with three. One fresh out of high school, who was less of a sugar baby and more of a boyfriend that I tended to spoil. Another that came right after I started being a sugar daddy; they were around for a couple months before they ended up leaving for a different sugar daddy, and then the one before you stayed around for about half a year. He was pretty chill, but he ended up doing the same thing as the last one."

"Why would clients just... move on like that?"

Remus is silent for a few moments, before he answers "some will pay more with you having to do less, and others just see better opportunities. Or hotter men. The two actual clients I've been with have liked me because I'm young, but once I start wanting to do more, they usually move on."

Logan purses his lips, going silent himself, before he quietly says "do you force them to do more?"

His question earns a pained look in Remus's eyes, but physically, Remus just shakes his head. "Of course I don't. I told you from the beginning that I value your consent. I won't make anyone do things they don't want to." Remus proceeds to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck as he snickers slightly, adding "I think it was just the nature of the ideas I proposed that scared them off. People accept this job thinking it'll be all vanilla, but I propose a collar and a leash once and suddenly they're out the door."

"Oh."

Logan can't respond with much else than that, instead distracted by Remus's words. He was reassured by the truthful tone of Remus's statements, and the actions Remus had exhibited previously that backs up those words, but... a collar and a leash? Logan's hand involuntarily comes up to his neck, and he hears Remus chuckle quietly.

It draws Logan's attention back to him, and he sees Remus grinning at him with half-lidded eyes that let Logan know Remus can tell what he's thinking.

"Don't tell me you're into that," Remus says, voice low, and Logan swallows the spit in his mouth.

"I wouldn't know," the younger man responds, avoiding Remus's eyes. "Obviously."

He was a virgin until he met Remus, and he doesn't have any other sexual partner, so if Remus hasn't tried it out on him, then obviously Logan wouldn't know.

The thought of wearing a collar, however, flustered him for a reason Logan couldn't comprehend.

"I guess we'll have to find out, then," Remus says, moving away from Logan's neck, as one of his hands slides up Logan's shirt, and the other runs over Logan's clothed legs, squeezing and groping his upper thighs. "I'll get you a high-quality collar that'll choke your pretty neck just right."

Sliding his hand out from Logan's shirt, he instead brings it up to Logan's neck, very lightly grabbing it.

"Logan, be serious with me real quick," Remus then states, his change in tone drawing Logan's attention back towards him. Confirming he has Logan's full attention, Remus continues. "Can I choke you?"

"I- I don't know," Logan stammers out. He doesn't know how that would feel, or if he'd like it. Remus doesn't look too pleased with that answer, though.

"Logan," he begins, voice soft, but stern. "I need a clear yes, or a clear no, okay?"

Logan nods, his own hand coming to rest atop Remus's around his throat. He had to think about this; did he trust Remus with so much power? With the ability to cut off Logan's ability to breathe indefinitely?

Unfortunately, yes. He does.

"Yeah," Logan answers, after a moment. "Yeah, you can." He still seems somewhat unsure, so Remus leans up slightly in order to kiss him, which Logan can't help leaning into.

"Okay," Remus breathes, when he pulls away. "If you're uncomfortable, don't like it, or want to back out, tap my hand three times, okay?"

Logan nods again, verbally repeating "okay," before he watches Remus relax, and a smirk reappear on his face. Remus's confidence reassures Logan, and he relaxes moments later. Seeing the anxiety melt from Logan's shoulders, Remus pulls Logan in for another kiss, this time pulling him in by his throat, and as they kiss, Remus's hand slowly tightens around Logan's throat.

Logan can't help gasping as Remus's fingers squeeze his throat, and Remus takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Logan's mouth.

As Logan attempts to rock his hips against Remus's thigh, his eyes basically roll back into his head. Arousal is practically coursing through his veins at the power Remus holds with his hand on his throat, and Logan adores it.

Remus eases up the pressure all too soon, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he grins at Logan's flushed face and spit-soaked lips.

"Imagine-" Remus starts, allowing Logan to take a few deep breaths before his hand is squeezing Logan's throat again, Logan's head falling back in a choked off moan, and Remus can only stare with half lidded eyes as he continues, "-a collar wrapped around your neck like this. Choking you constantly."

And a constant reminder that Logan was owned, just like a dog is owned. The thought sends blood straight to his cock, and he tries to grind against Remus's leg again, this time Remus noticing the action.

"You like that thought? What about a leash hooked to it, and me dragging you around like my cute little pet. I'd make you crawl, and if you hesitated, you'd get pulled along anyway."

Remus's hand grasps tighter around his throat, and drool is actively dripping down Logan's chin. His free hand works quickly to undo Logan's pants, wanting to play with him before they arrive at Logan's work.

In Logan's mind, work had already been discarded in favor of sex, and as soon as Remus frees his cock he's choking out incoherent begs. Remus eases up on his throat just enough for Logan to suck in another breath, before he's working to get his own cock out.

He pulls Logan closer, before he grabs both their cocks with one hand. He doesn't hesitate to start stroking them together, Logan's hands finding his shoulders as Remus's hand tightens on his throat yet again. Pathetic moans spill from his mouth, sounding gargled as he chokes on his spit, and he loves it.

He's figuratively stuck between reality and fantasy - a new place for him to be - feeling the very real touches of Remus's hands around his throat, choking him expertly and stroking him all the same, and he doesn't hold back from rutting his cock against Remus's which earns low moans from the man. But on the other hand, he can't help but do exactly what Remus said to, and imagine a collar choking him as he's dragged around Remus's mansion, stared at by his staff, and forced to crawl all the while.

"Re- Rem-" Logan stutters out, raspy due to the little air he could suck in, and Remus eases up pressure again allowing Logan another breath of air. "Remus- close, please," he then whines, rocking his hips again, desperate for any sort of release. His body was still sensitive from earlier, and Remus laughs lightly at how quickly he got close.

"Already, baby?" Remus coos, teasing as ever. He pulls Logan in by his throat for yet another kiss, rougher this time, biting at Logan's lips as Logan gasps and lets out short pants and whines against Remus's.

The car pulls to a stop, and Remus pulls away with a curse. He lets go of Logan's throat, and Logan in turn bends over fully, resting his head against Remus's shoulder as Remus strokes them both faster.

"Please, please," Logan cries, nails digging into Remus's back as he continues to rock his cock against Remus's, almost pleading with the pleasure he's providing in hopes Remus will let him come.

He doesn't know why he's asking, or why he wants Remus's approval before doing so, but when Remus eventually grits out "come, now," Logan can't help but obey.

Luckily, his come splatters over Remus's hand and his clothes, and manages to miss dirtying Logan up at all, and after he comes Remus pushes him back slightly so he can quickly finish himself off, making himself into more of a mess.

Logan's panting heavily, and Remus is drawing in deep breaths of his own, before there comes a knock on the car door from the outside.

Remus snickers, as Logan flushes, and works to quickly get his cock back into his pants. "At least he knocked," Remus jokes, before pressing a kiss to the underside of Logan's jaw. "You can open it!" he then shouts, presumably to the chauffeur. The door cracks open, despite the fact Remus is very much covered in their come and his limp cock is still out, seemingly having no shame whatsoever regarding the sexual nature of the situation.

He uses his clean hand to guide Logan's turned head back towards him, so he can pull him in for one last final kiss. "You don't have to go," Remus reminds him, voice quiet, as he pulls his wallet out of his pants. With one hand, he maneuvers it open, and pulls out a wad of cash, hardly caring about the amount. Logan gulps as he takes it, before he splits up the cash, folds it, and stuffs each half into each of his back pockets, not having any other suitable place to put it.

He feels a ball of anxiety knotting in his gut as Remus speaks. "You can skip," Remus says, almost as if he's pleading.

"Remus-" Logan attempts to interject, sliding fully off Remus's lap and shuffling while bent over towards the open door.

"Maybe they won't even fire you!" Remus continues, sounding increasingly desperate, and Logan sighs as he steps fully out of the car.

Awkwardly glancing away, Logan folds his arms over his chest. After a few seconds, he takes a breath, and looks back at Remus. "You have my number," he states, taking a step backwards, and one step closer to his workplace. "Bye, Remus."

And with that, the chauffeur closes the door, and Logan gulps as he stares at the ground, watching as the wheels slowly roll along the road, and the limo speeds away.

#cw food #food cw #tw food #food tw #intrulogical smut #intrulogical #intrulogical sugar daddy au #sanders sides smut #sanders sides fic #not safe for sanders #ts remus #ts logan #agp fic

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