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#also that one ask in my box....you will be answered soon
muu-kun · 10 months
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#; ♡ ; okay to reblog#muu has admittedly been describing is self perceived melancholy and isolation regarding it#as being comparable to the circle drawn around Sadness in Inside Out due to others finding his emotions to be Too Much in capacity#and that as such he has thus been persistently trying to make himself very very small in spaces#so that maybe perhaps someone would soon be able to reside in the circle with him just until he gets to where he feels he is supposed to be#muu has also stated on numerous actions that while he is adamant about self healing he is not necessarily of preference#to not have the assistance of peers and their feedback and he tends he show it most predominantly in asking them to hear Everything#about himself in the form of the big box because one he wants assurances at the end of it all but also because he Has to be explaining#his processes of thought and general state of where he is now to people so that they may go Oh so that why you do the neurotic shit you do#but it really be hard out here when you don't know how to self advocate for a persistently emotionally present romantic partner#you don't really have any friends and you are either God awful at making new ones or you don't want to try for reasons of either#feeling scorned past close friends of yours have left time and time again OR#because you don't know what version of yourself is the Real one or the Good one or the Authentic one so you avoid socializing#until you can properly answer that dilemma but in turn you've left yourself with 1 person to seek out and talk to#but with that comes the existential dread of either a this person is also going to leave me or#b I am in fact so totally codependent on them that it isn't fair to be my sole research for assistance that I ought to fend for myself#but what do you even do to fend for yourself when you don't even know how to Advocate for yourself??#you devise a plan to shrink down and provide no indication to those around you that you are struggling with anything#that perhaps shriveling yourself down like that will allow for people to find you tolerable enough to be around#and that their presences will patch up every interpersonal wound in your system until eventually what you are faking has come true#; ♡ ; inner thoughts
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fireandspiceland · 2 years
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Lol okay so this ask is based on something my friend said…
And it had me dying just at the thought of it 😂
Which character from each pairing in the Nordic Polycule would be more likely to booty call the other?
Like for example if we were talking about NorFin.
Would Nor be the one to booty call Fin more often? Or would Fin be the one to booty call Nor more often?
Could you do a headcannon for basically all the different pairings within the polycule? (SweDen, DenFin, and etc…)
Thanks!
lmao I already like your friend :D
First of all I think once Finland is comfortable enough in the poly relationship he constantly booty calls the group chat whenever hes in the mood and whoever picks up gets to have the fun (be it just Tino and whoever got there first or a spontanous more-some). so now that that's settled:
DenNor - Denmark is the one who booty calls Norway more often. A lot more often (but only because Norway knows and already waits for those calls)
SuFin - Finland is the one to booty call Sweden usually. For Sweden to be the one to call/text Finland for sex is a rare occassion.
DenSu - again it's Mathias who gives Berwald a booty call, though not as often as Lukas (Norway is for when he wants to be fucked senseless and Sweden is for when he wants to fuck someone else)
DenFin - it's 50/50. Their libido is high and after a drink or a few the question is not if but when the first one of them budges and shoots the other a text not even asking but just stating "My room, 10min."
NorFin - you really got me with that one, it's so hard to figure out smh. I don't think Norway is as open about being horny as Finland is, so it would probably be Finland who gives him more booty calls, but also I think Tino like the discreetion of booty calling Finland. If he asks Denmarks for sex he doesn't hear the end of it for a week, but if he does it with Finland it just between the two of them.
SuNor - this one's even harder to figure out. I was close to saying non of them do it but that's not true. They both have a need for each other sometimes so I'd say they're on par, though they generally don't booty call each other often.
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esleep · 6 months
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i actually do kinda like delivering groceries on the side because it gives me such a unique cross-section of the community. i never know whose groceries im shopping for until i finish the delivery and see them/their home and it's like it adds more detail to the picture of who they are. the baby supplies going to the apartment that i know for a fact is one bedroom (they'll be moving soon - i bet they're apartment hunting, i hope they find a place). the new cat litter box, bowl, and kitten food going to the house covered in "i <3 my dog" paraphernalia (a kitten definitely showed up on the porch recently and made itself at home). the fairly healthy boring grocery order that includes an incongruous tub of candy-filled ice cream going to the home of an elderly woman with toddler toys in the yard (it's clearly for her grandkids, whom she sees often).
shopping for someone else's groceries is a fairly intimate thing. i've bought condoms and pregnancy tests, allergy medicine and nyquil, baby benadryl and teething gel, a huge pile of veggies paired with an equally huge pile of junk food, tampons and shampoo and closet organizers and ant traps and deodorizing shoe inserts and a million other little things that tell a million different stories in their endless combinations. one time someone had me buy one single green bean. i messaged them to confirm that's actually what they wanted, and they said yes - neither of them liked green beans very much, but they had a baby they were introducing to solid foods, and they wanted to let him try one to see if he liked them. another time i had someone request 50 fresh roma tomatoes - not for a restaurant, but for a person in an apartment. the kitchen behind them smelled like basil and garlic when they opened the door. another time i brought groceries to three elderly blind women who share a house. that was one of the few times i have ever broken my rule and gone inside a place i've delivered to, because they asked if i could place the grocery bags in a specific location in the kitchen for them to work on unloading and there was no way i was going to refuse helping.
i gripe about the poor tippers, but people can also be incredibly kind. one time i took shelter from a sudden vicious hailstorm inside an older lady's home in a trailer park, while i was in the middle of delivering her groceries. we both huddled just inside the door, watching in shock as golf-ball-sized hail swept through for about five minutes and then disappeared. she handed me an extra $10 bill on my way out the door.
when covid was at its deadliest, people would leave extra (often lysol-scented) cash tips and thank-you notes for me taped to the door or partially under the mat. i especially loved the clearly kid-drawn thank you notes with marker renderings of blobby people in masks, or trees, or rainbows. in summer of 2020 i delivered to a nice older couple who lived outside of town in the hills, and they insisted i take a huge double handful of extra disposable gloves and masks to wear while shopping - those were hard to find in stores at the time, but they wanted me to have some of their supply and wouldn't take no for an answer.
anyway. all this to say people are mostly good, or at least trying to be, despite my complaints.
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oleander-neruim · 3 months
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Yall sorry I've been inactive btw. Inktober killed my drive for a bit lmao.
I have things lined up and hopefully & I can start finishing them up soon so look forward to that 👍
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groguspicklejar · 4 months
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141!mafia au reverse harem where price keeps reader in his office as his only, telling the reader that he's going to make sure she's treated better than her scumbag husband. she gets released back to their shitty nyc apartment and finds the boys packing her stuff up, saying price bought out a better one in the upper west side. the only thing is that there must be a "meeting" once a week to "check up" on her because they "feel bad" wink wink
so... much... dick... forgive me, for i have sinned... again
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"everybody stop touching my stuff and put everything down!"
you're surprised when they actually listen to your command and do as you say with wide eyes. Gaz, Soap and Ghost each carefully put their box on the ground. perhaps it's the furious expression on your face that compelled them to do so but you don't care. you just want them to put your things back where they found them.
so you turned to their leader; Price.
"what do you mean you sold my apartment?" you asked. "where do you expect me to go?"
this was the only place you could afford. with the divorce proceedings draining the majority of your funds (because your husband, soon-to-be ex, is a fucking prick and a selfish bastard), you've managed to keep this place and keep it in good enough shape.
it's not as big or as modern and sleek like your husband's house. just a two bedroom apartment with a cramped living room, bathroom and a small kitchen. a far downgrade from your lush lifestyle, but it's not much different from what you've had to grow up in, so the cosiness is somewhat comforting.
so for that to be taken away from right under your nose too, well...
you don't know if you're going to cry out of rage or despair. you've just come back after being temporarily relocated to one of Price's safehouses. you didn't expect to find your house sold. just another wrench in the already rusted cogwheels of your life.
"to your new place." Price holds up a bundle of keys with a smile. "a better one. much safer than this one, at least."
you only took the keys because the landlord was right outside, waiting for everything to be moved out and you had nowhere else to go. you held back the tears during the ride and wouldn't let any of the boys touch you. you wouldn't even talk to Gaz, who you favoured the most out of all of them.
"i was just following orders, love." you shift away from him when he offers you the tall cup of strawberry milkshake in his hand, ignoring the sadness in his eyes. "i didn't set out to hurt you."
you don't look at him at all. you couldn't bear his sad brown eyes but you also had to remind yourself that if Price gave the order, he'd probably kill you in your sleep.
your new house wasn't so bad. like Price said, it was better; you liked that you had a bigger, more lavish bathroom (one that had a hot tub, no less), as well as a study. at least, you have a nice place to work from home now. and just like he said, it's safer. you were slightly impressed by the electric fence and gate.
slightly. you still can't over the fact that they sold your old place without at least giving you a warning first. despite that, you settled in fairly quickly. though, you were surprised when you got a visit from Ghost within the first week.
"just a precaution, love." he said, pushing past you at the door.
"is this to make sure that i'm not plotting revenge on you guys?" he snorts at that and rolls his eyes.
you were a bit on edge with the visits. they came to see you at random days of the day but the sequence was the same. first, it was Ghost. he stayed for an hour, checking if everything in your apartment was in working order and bugging your house for extra security but he doesn't tell you that part.
Soap followed the next week. he was a tad bit more enthusiastic than Ghost, which you found endearing, even if you snubbed him the whole time. he pouted when you gave him one-word or dry answers but he kept eating all of your cereal because you banned him from touching the stove after he nearly burned the house down while trying to make noodles.
Price was next. he drove you to work and took you back home. you came to discover that he has less patience than he leads on because he threatened to throw you over the shoulder in front of your coworkers when you refused to get in the car.
Gaz was last and you think that was intentional because he brought flowers and a box of chocolates. you gave him the most sour expression as you let him in. he gave you your space, but he made it known that he doesn't like living with the knowledge that you're upset with him.
you were rightfully pissed at all four of them for uprooting your life when you had just began to pick up the pieces.
the cycle continues. Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz. in that exact order. eventually, you got used to it. you got used to having their presence in your new home at different hours of the day. they offered to help you with anything you needed because they felt guilty for disrupting your life so much even though, in Price's words "you're far better off here than you were with that muppet of yours anyway" and it's hard not to disagree with that sentiment.
but it's just that even if they do somehow make your life easier, they make it ten times as difficult at the same time.
because ever since that day in your soon-to-be ex-husband's office, you can't remember the last time you scratched the growing ache between your thighs. none of them bring up that day and you're too embarrassed to ask them to give back your sex toys.
so you're stuck having to deal with four of the most attractive men you've ever met walking around your place, cooking for you, fixing your wobbly chair, your water heater and coffee machine. helping you get from work and home safely. bringing you cute little gifts to apologize. playing guard dog from unwanted attention-seeking men.
it was hard to endure, especially when you were ovulating.
and unbeknownst to you, it was difficult on them too. you don't think they had a hard time watching you walk around in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, or a flimsy nightgown whenever they came to visit at odd hours of the day they did that on purpose but it was to their detriment? you don't think their mouths watered when they watched you doing nothing but lay down on a sofa and read a book? god, what they wouldn't do to spread you open and make you read out loud while they had their way with you.
Soap, of course, could barely contain his urges but after three months of this, he caved and had you cornered in your bathroom while you were doing your nightly routine.
"just the tip." he pleads softly, kneading your breasts. your thighs clench as you feel his mouth on your shoulder. "please, bonnie, ye cannae make you watch ye being all sexy and not expect me tae do anything about it."
you watch him through the bathroom mirror, your own eyes wide and pupils blown. your belly tingles with desire just thinking about him taking you here. "j-just the tip?"
he hummed into your neck, already forgetting the statement, already unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down.
"won't take long but i'll make ye feel good just like last time. remember?" he wrapped a hand around your waist and you felt his cock gliding between your wet folds. your hands grip the sink so tightly, you think you might break it. "when i took ye on the desk in front of yet scumbag of a husband?"
your eyes widen and you look away from the mirror, heat blazing your cheeks. it's the first time any of them ever acknowledged that day. Soap grips your jaw and makes you face forward again and you catch his wicked smile.
"ah, ye do remember." you bite your lip as he rolls his hips, his cock moving slowly through your folds, catching against your swollen clit. "i think about it every day." he confesses, watching your expression twist in pleasure. the head of his cock catches at your slit, slowly pushing in. "made myself cum all over my hand just thinking about the way ye made a right mess of Gaz's mouth while i played with these pretty tits."
he makes an emphasis on those last words by pulling at the front of your robe to expose your breasts and then proceeds to fondle them. you feel more of his length pushing inside your cunt before pulling away. he does it again, sliding a little more each time.
"th-this is not just the t-" your words cut off into a long moan when suddenly, he thrusts deep. the stretch felt so good, it drowned every protest you had lined up.
"should i stop?" he whispers, pressing more into you.
you moaned, head tipping back on your shoulder. "no."
you mewled at the salacious noises rising as he fucked you against the sink and made you watch as you cum. he groaned in your ear as your orgasm triggered his and he spilled deep inside your pussy.
after Soap, all hell broke loose. you went from dealing with a near-four month dry spell to getting stuffed with a cock almost every day of the week.
Ghost took you on the couch the next week. he drilled you into the cushions while muttering something about making him suffer as you walked around in practically nothing and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. not your fault he was stuck having to watch you.
you told the same thing to Price the following week when he had you in the garden. you were terrified that someone might hear you but he told you that "you don't have neighbours, darling." he had far too much fun making you squirt all over his cock after he laid you down on your poor flower bush.
Gaz used the excuse of helping you bake till you found yourself gasping for air and bent over the kitchen counter. there was flour caked all over both of you but he couldn't care less about his expensive suit when he had you tightening around his cock as you begged for more until he was sure he was forgiven. he really did give the best apologies.
living in your new place didn't seem so bad anymore. you hardly had to worry about a thing, so you could definitely get used to this.
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banners by @cafekitsune mafia!141 masterlist offer a note in the picklejar
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sundrop-writes · 21 days
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Careful - Chapter One
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(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader
Chapter One: Over Yet
We can go farther, beyond the end.
Summary:
You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.
That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)
Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.
Word Count: 5,900
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?
A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.
...
The team had been in Portland for three days.
No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers. 
A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers. 
“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?” 
He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers. 
Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad. 
Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects. 
Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete. 
They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree. 
“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.” 
She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued. 
“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.” 
“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized. 
“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.” 
“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.” 
Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on: 
“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.” 
“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.” 
“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration. 
“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him. 
“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.” 
“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.” 
He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it. 
“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on. 
“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.” 
“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.” 
“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.” 
“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.” 
Prentiss visibly cringed at this. 
“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together. 
Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought. 
“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.” 
She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain. 
“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?” 
“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory. 
“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.” 
“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit. 
This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again. 
“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room. 
“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about. 
“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her. 
“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.” 
“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued. 
Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain. 
“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?” 
Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile. 
“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.” 
“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced. 
A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from. 
“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.” 
“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk. 
“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.” 
“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-” 
“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.” 
“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned. 
“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,” 
“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”
“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed. 
“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.” 
“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.” 
“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.” 
… 
The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office. 
After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through. 
So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did. 
“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers. 
“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.” 
“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.” 
“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned. 
“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed. 
“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.” 
The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it. 
It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever. 
It was you. 
What the hell were you doing applying for preschools? 
Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully. 
Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day - 
You had a son. 
A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now. 
And his birth date was… fuck. 
He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again. 
One thousand, seven hundred and two days. 
Four years, eight months, and two days. 
It wasn’t difficult math. 
Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child? 
His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.  
Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life? 
Had you been keeping this from him intentionally? 
He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with. 
What the fuck was going on? 
There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions. 
Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe- 
“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention. 
Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically. 
“Did you find something?” 
… 
All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them. 
So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before. 
It could definitely work. 
When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone. 
So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house. 
“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,” 
“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts. 
He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air. 
“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?” 
JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend. 
Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated. 
Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation. 
The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up. 
But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago. 
Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again. 
It had been four years. 
JJ was someone he could lean on right now. 
“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest. 
“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked. 
“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it. 
“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?” 
It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look. 
“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned. 
“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.” 
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer. 
“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.” 
“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.” 
“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply. 
It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him. 
“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.” 
There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time). 
She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world. 
So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby? 
“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud. 
Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together. 
“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment. 
That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face. 
“One thing at a time, alright?” 
When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning. 
It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother. 
Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more. 
He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly. 
And now the two of you likely had a child together. 
Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang. 
“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.” 
She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you. 
He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing. 
He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’. 
Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open. 
At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return. 
You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone. 
Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you. 
But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock. 
He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever. 
“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-” 
You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot. 
You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.
So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him. 
You were breath-taking. 
“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already. 
You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock. 
Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date. 
The first night that he knew he was in love with you. 
… 
He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra. 
It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on. 
It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night. 
Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness. 
It was a perfect night. 
Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat. 
His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves. 
And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled. 
“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind. 
You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place. 
“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?” 
Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic. 
“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.” 
“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this. 
Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued. 
“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.” 
“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.” 
Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer. 
“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.” 
Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more. 
“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this. 
“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.” 
You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more. 
“Interesting.” You replied. 
“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.” 
Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail. 
“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.” 
Spencer let out another bright laugh at this. 
“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.” 
“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile. 
“And see-” 
Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his. 
He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin. 
It was perfect. You were perfect. 
You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was. 
But Spencer was nothing like that. 
He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips. 
When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours. 
“That was… wow.” He sighed. 
“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle. 
“Well, I - you - wow.” 
It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter. 
Back then - everything had been perfect. 
He had no clue where it all went so wrong.
...
Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar
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gaspshichat · 1 month
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can i just talk about one of my favourite pearl images?
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technically two BUT I LOVE THEM. why?
aimsey is 4'11, and pearl is 6'0. in the first picture, aimsey is leaning on pearl's shoulder. either aimsey is standing on a box [sadly, i doubt it] or pearl is just CROUCHING DOWN ?????
also the second picture looks like pearl is once again crouching down to be level with aimsey, WHO SHE'S OVER A FOOT TALLER THAN 😭😭😭
they're just generally silly PLUS THEY LOOK SO HAPPY and i love their duo sm. like genuinely such an underrated duo and i wish we could get more interactions
my favourite pearl and aimsey interaction has to be valentine's day. pearl was streaming and it was late night for her [usual stream time] but for aimsey it was more late afternoon
aimsey comes into chat and xey just shout to pearl how they're going to do pottery with guqqie and pearl got so excited for him and asked to see it iirc
it was just such a genuinely sweet moment !!
--------------------------------
this part is unrelated to aimsey but pearl is just such a sweet person. i've extremely active in her chat and give bits every stream. my first stream i gave bits i talked about my unexplained chronic illness
do you want to know what she did?
she gave me a minute long message that still makes me cry to this day. i genuinely can't watch it bc i just instantly start crying
also yes she called me gaspie chat which is so funny to me. nowadays she calls me gasp or gasps but i do miss the gaspie chat day /hj
anyway, during last night's stream i talked about how i'm FINALLY going to get answers. after two years of constant sickness, i'm going to potentially get answers soon
she was so happy for me and hoped that i could finally get my answers soon before asking to give updates if i was comfortable
pearl is genuinely the nicest person i've ever seen in this community and her community shows that too. everyone is so kind to everyone that it's like taking a breath of fresh air
sorry [not really] for the big, rambling post, but i needed to say this
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finelinefae · 1 month
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rose [tattooH x innocenty/n]
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synopsis: Harry's a tattoo artist who can't figure out the best way to say how in love he is with the flower shop owner next door
word count: 10.5k
content warnings: smut (first time oral f recieving, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N), brief mentions of violence
read part 1 here
this is a lot !! like a lot happens !! also everyone smiles a lot,, i can't help it they're happy
. . .
Harry had come to the conclusion that of all the things he had had to do in his twenty-six years of life - all the things he had to do and say to get where he was today - saying I love you to his girlfriend was proving to be one of the most intricate tasks he had encountered.
And it wasn't because he didn't love her. From the moment she stepped into his tattoo shop with determination and fear all intertwined into one expression right up until now, he was pretty sure his relationship with Y/N was the physical embodiment of what it meant to be loved and to love in return.
He had learnt so much about the sweet, pretty girl next door. From her little habits and small quirks that she didn't think he ever noticed.
Y/N loved wearing Harry's clothes. He had bought a new band tee from an online shop one of his friends had recommended to him. When the parcel hadn't arrived on time, he wondered if it had gotten lost in transit or they'd delivered it to the wrong address. He had emailed them once or twice to see its whereabouts only to find the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on the body of his girlfriend asleep on his sofa when he came home from work. "But Harry, they're so soft and comfy!" She argued when he accused her the next morning. "Know that baby but I need clothes to wear." He was trying not to smile and pinch her cheeks when he caught a glimpse of her pouty lips. "But Harry-" He couldn't help but interrupt her with a quick kiss to her lips, "Can use some of my old shirts flower, y' can pick them out. C'mon sweet girl," He led her to his wardrobe and let her scramble through the box of his old shirts.
She loved being praised. Harry thought it was the cutest thing ever when he'd compliment her or tell her how good she was for him and her cheeks would turn a dusky pink colour. He'd often find himself kissing the crescent moon-shaped dimples on her cheeks whenever she'd beam up at him after he mumbled sweet praises into her ear, "M' good girl," He'd say, "Best girl, m' favourite flower."
She loved physical touch from him and him only. His favourite time of day was coming home after a busy day of working and finding his darling girl sitting up in bed, either reading or watching TV, waiting for him in his favourite soft, satin pyjamas she wears (he loved the feel of them under his hands whenever he held her). She'd make grabby hands for him as soon as she saw him walk through the door of her bedroom, wanting to touch him almost immediately. He'd kiss her a few times, run his fingers through her hair, stroke her cheek and brush his fingers over her arm. Even when they were walking through the streets of the town, Y/N would often cling to Harry - feeling anxious being around too many people. He'd comfort her with soothing touches, rubbing circles on the pulse point on her wrist to make sure she was okay.
There were so many things Harry had come to adore about his favourite girl in the entire world. From the way she'd look at him with big rounded eyes as though he hung up the moon and stars in the sky or knew the answer to everything she asked, to the way she'd melt under his touch whenever they'd do something even slightly intimate. He was so in love... He just didn't know how to tell her that.
Harry had never been in a serious relationship before so the idea of love didn't come easy to him. He had spent the majority of his life believing he was destined to be lonely, finding himself in one-night stands and never getting past the first date for lack of connection. He didn't know what romantic love looked like, felt like or even if it existed at all until he met his favourite flower. 
Moments would crop up where he could feel the first syllable spike the tip of his tongue but invisible hands wrapped themself around his neck as he tried to let the words out. Y/N would sit patiently, waiting for him to continue speaking, but he'd just end up kissing her, hoping he could communicate his words without saying them.
He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when it came to saying those three simple words, words that carried so much weight between them. Maybe it was because he wanted the moment to be special and memorable for her, so he waited for the perfect opportunity to confess. But the anticipation was driving him a bit crazy.
It was very early Wednesday morning. Y/N was cutting up sheets of tissue paper since it was nearing winter and people would be out buying gifts soon for their loved ones. She had ordered a bunch of new seed packets and planned to make little gift sets to sell.
Harry was sitting at the workshop table in the middle of the shop. He was wearing his shorts and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. He wore his worn-out, white Vans as if they were slippers, with the left shoe dangling precariously from his toes, threatening to slide off at any moment. His tired eyes tried to remain focused on counting the coins for Y/N's till since she always miscalculated and would have to go visit him for more money even though his shop was cashless which he reminded her every time as he slipped her a five-pound note from his own back pocket.
The shop was silent in the early hours of the morning as the two worked separately. Y/N enjoyed that she didn't constantly have to make conversation with her boyfriend for him to be interested. They were happy to just be in each other's company for as long as possible.
"Baby," Harry's raspy voice broke the comfortable silence between them. Y/N's head lifted naturally in response, "C'mere." He opened his arm out but his eyes were still trained on counting the coins.
Y/N smiled tiredly and walked over to him, tucking herself into his side and holding onto the arm that wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, "Didn't get to hold y' this morning, left me cold." He murmured against her.
"M sorry, H. It's always stressful when the season changes." She sighed, thinking about all the work she still had yet to do before autumn passed.
"S okay, just missed you is all." He hummed. Y/N turned herself so she was pressed against the worktop and looking up at him. She loved every version of Harry at all times of day but something about Harry in the morning made her swoon. He was so soft and cuddly, needy and grabby, she'd always have to pry his hands off of her in the morning so she could get to work on time.
Y/N grinned and leaned her head forward, past the hood of his sweatshirt, to kiss him. "Wanted to ask you if y’ would come on a date with me this Saturday.” He whispered, eyes still closed from kissing her.
Every eight weeks, Y/N’s shop would close for the entire weekend. Since her shop was open most days, she wanted to give herself at least some time off to look forward to. Harry knew that particular weekend was coming up because of how much she was looking forward to it so he made sure to free up his weekend too so he could take her out for the day. 
They had been on dinner dates and done a few other things here and there but there was only so much they could do in their small town. So as soon as he thought of the idea, he booked train tickets to take Y/N to the coast for the day. 
“Hmmm,” Y/N sighed, reaching into his hood to wrap her arms around his neck, his skin warm against her touch. “Where would we go?”
“S a surprise,” He whispered into her ear, his breath warm. 
“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” She replied, voice soft. 
“Yeah? It’ll be cold so you’ll need to wear a sweater.” He told her. 
"I only own sweaters," She rolled her eyes, pushing away from him so she could get back to work.
"Yeah, my sweaters." Harry teased.
Y/N narrowed her eyes, "Get back to counting those coins or you'll be fired."
"Yes ma'am," He couldn't stop smiling to himself as he carried on counting each penny.
. . .
The small train was busy on the way to the coast on Saturday morning but luckily they had managed to grab two seats next to each other by the window. Y/N insisted that they listened to one of the very many playlists she had curated for them both to listen to. It wasn’t long into their relationship that Harry had come to realise that music was one of Y/N’s love languages. 
He remembered when he first moved in and heard her music through the walls of her apartment as he bought his food shopping up the stairs his first night. The music played well into the night and he had planned to knock on her door and ask her to turn it down like she had done to him the day they had first met, but his ears caught onto her singing. He pressed his ear up against the door and listened as she sang to herself whilst dishes clinked together. She wasn’t the best singer he had ever heard but something about her soft voice soothed him, so he turned around and went about his night with the girl singing next door. 
Y/N pulled out her wired earbuds not long after they’d sat down and gave one of them to Harry. After Hours by The Velvet Underground started playing and Harry smiled to himself as he watched Y/N gaze out the window of the train. He reached for her hand which was covered by her fingerless gloves she had crocheted herself and intertwined their fingers together. 
The train pulled into the final station an hour later. Harry held tightly onto Y/N as people bustled to get on and off the train at the same time. The weather wasn’t perfect when they had arrived - slightly overcast and grey - but it didn’t stop Y/N from gasping at the sight of the ocean in front of her. 
“Harry look!” She pointed as the waves rolled into the shore. She looked adorable in her white hat and earmuffs, her white puffer coat made her look like a giant marshmallow. She was almost matching Harry, in his black puffer coat and green bobble hat. 
“Y/N! Slow down baby,” He called for her as he ran to catch up with her. 
They walked down the steps and onto the beach which was practically void of any people other than a few dog walkers. He was thankful he had told her to wear a thick coat since the wind was bitter and cold. Harry’s smile was so wide, that his dimples pierced each one of his cheeks as he watched her run around in her UGG boots and leggings. 
“Beautiful,” Harry whispered, hoping the words would get caught in the wind and blow straight to her so she could hear them. 
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea,” She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh sea air. Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. 
They walked side by side with each other. Harry held Y/N’s hand inside the pocket of his coat and every once in a while, she would stop to pick up a shell which she would pass to him to put in his other coat pocket. At some point, it started to drizzle down with rain but they carried on walking and talking along the beach. 
Harry would watch as Y/N ran up to the sea to pick up bits of sea glass and try to not get caught by the water. She looked adorable as she ran up the beach looking back at him with her woolly hat and giant coat swamping her. Strands of hair stuck to her damp, rosy cheeks as rain dripped from her coat since they had been out so long. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her as she crouched down to look at something she’d found in the sand. He made a mental note to share it on everything he possibly could so everyone in his life would know how much he loved her, even if she didn’t know just yet. 
Harry swore he was going to tell her he was in love with her right there and then but his heart fell out of his chest when he watched her trip and stumble back onto the sand. “Y/N,” He rushed over, immediately wanting to check if she was okay, only to be met with her giggling and laying back on the sand like a starfish on land. 
“Lay here with me,” She patted the spot next to her. 
The last thing Harry wanted to do was get his new black trousers wet and dirty from the sand but he would do anything and everything she asked him to do so he fell onto the sand and laid right next to her. 
His pinky finger hooked with hers as they both looked up at the sky, “Are you happy flower?” He asked.
“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” She confesses and the words make Harry’s heart grow ten times the size. “I think spending time with you is when I’m the happiest Harry.”
When it reached past midday, Harry took Y/N to grab something to eat before they had to take the train home again. Their coats were dripping when they stepped inside the small cafe Harry had picked out for them. The kind owner had even offered to dry them both for them before they had to leave again. 
“Harry,” She gasped, “They do blueberry pancakes!” 
Harry smirked, not wanting to tell her that he had picked this cafe specifically because they made one of Y/N’s favourite foods, “Really? Tha’s your favourite right baby?”
She nods, “I’m gonna get that- ooo it even comes with the option of honey or syrup!” Y/N beams. 
By the time their food had arrived, they were well invested in conversation, “Was thinking of getting my ear pierced next weekend. One of my mates has free space and thought it would be fun to get a hoop or something.” Harry tells her. 
Y/N paused on chewing her pancake as she pictured her boyfriend with a hoop earring. She swallowed down her food before getting out, “That would be hot.”
Harry laughs at her bluntness, “Yeah?” He smirked, “You think so?” Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinged pink. 
Although they kissed and made out at any spare moment they could, they hadn’t really branched out from the time Harry had touched her for the first time. Y/N knew Harry was trying to be patient about it - he was a gentleman like that - but she was going crazy not having his ring-clad hands touching her skin, providing that ecstasy he had given her a glimpse of for the first time.  
“Y alright there flower?” Harry crooned, “Anything on your mind you’d care to share.”
Y/N shook her head, ridding them of her dirty thoughts, “M okay, H.” 
“Alright,” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, “You look beautiful by the way.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Her eyes softened, “And thank you for bringing me here today, I’ve loved being here with you.”
Harry parted his lips as if to respond, but found himself speechless, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. Y/N looked at him expectantly, her eyes silently urging him to express whatever was on his mind. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he finally spoke, "I've loved being here with you too. I love every moment I get to be with you." Y/N beamed as Harry inwardly cursed himself for being unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he saw the radiant smile spread across Y/N's face, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and contentment wash over him, knowing that his words were enough to reach her for now. 
After the train journey home, which took slightly longer than anticipated, Harry carried Y/N up to her apartment and into her bedroom where he slumped her down on her bed. Y/N hummed at the feeling of her warm, cosy sheets beneath her. “Comfy m’love?” He grinned, tugging the sleeves of his coat off so he was just in his white t-shirt and black trousers. 
“I’m so sleepy,” Y/N sighed, eyes closed whilst Harry tugged her shoes off as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed.
“Cause you’ve been running around all day huh? Could barely keep up with you half the time.” Harry briefly massages the souls of her feet after taking both her shoes off, knowing they were probably aching from running on the beach all day.
“But it was sooo much fun,” Y/N whined, her tired eyes peering down at Harry.
“Yeah, yeah, I know that lovie. Need to get y’ out of these clothes so I can put them in the wash.” He tugs on her leggings.
“Can you do it?” Y/N asks, “M too tired.”
Harry pauses, “Y’ sure baby? Don’t want y’ to be uncomfortable.” 
“M sure Harry, I trust you.” She tells him.
He smiles to himself as her words settle in the space between them. A smile curves his lips almost involuntarily, reflecting the quiet gratitude he feels towards her trust.  “Alright, lift y’ hips for me, flower.” He instructs and Y/N does as she’s told, lifting her hips so he can pull down her leggings leaving her in her pink lacey panties. 
Harry swallows as he sees the apex of her thighs. He hadn’t seen this much of her before and he could already feel himself harden in his jeans at the sight of her. “Think y’ can sit up for me flower? Jus’ so I can’t take your sweater off?” He tries to stop staring at her bare legs but he can’t seem to take his eyes away.
Y/N groans but does as she’s told, sitting up and putting her arms up so Harry can remove the sweater from her torso. Her eyes are still shut and Harry gently pulls the soft sweater over her head. 
When her eyes open, the first thing Y/N sees is Harry standing above her with his gaze fixed on her figure and she realizes this is the most he's ever seen of her yet. She had nothing but a vest and underwear to cover her body. Y/N was pretty sure he could see the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples through the thin, white material. 
“Harry…” she whispers, suddenly realising what was happening, how the temperature in the room had suddenly shifted.
Y/N shivered as Harry cupped her cheek and bent forward to kiss her. She leaned backwards onto the bed, resting on her elbows as Harry kept his hold on her cheek, using his other hand to place on her hip as he crawled on top of her. His hand was warm and big and his fingertips pressed into her skin sending a joint of electricity down through her body. 
They kissed and Harry groaned as Y/N uncontrollably rolled her hips into him, “Harry,” Y/N repeated, placing her hands on his chest.
“What baby?” He asks.
“I-I feel strange,” She confesses, not really knowing how to go about telling him what was on her mind.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”
Y/N shook her head immediately, “N-no nothing’s wrong. It’s just… Remember last time? When you…” she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, too embarrassed to describe what Harry had done when he taught her how to touch herself.
“What about it?” He wonders, patience and curiosity on his face.
“I-I want to do it again but different.” She cringed at her words, “I mean, I want to try something new. L-like I want you to show me something new I mean.” 
Harry’s features softened, “Yeah? You want me to take care of you huh?”
Y/N nodded, relieved he understood what she was hinting at without her having to admit it herself, “Yes.”
“What do you want me to do baby?” He kisses down the side of her neck, Y/N’s head rolling to the side to give him more room to explore her skin.
“I-I don’t know,” 
“Oh I think you do flower otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for something new to try would you?” He sucks on the skin of her neck and she whines at the feeling. His green eyes meet hers as he lifts his head up, “C’mon sweet girl, tell daddy what you want from him.” 
Her mouth fell open and her heart beat erratically in her chest, “I-I need you down there daddy.” 
“Yeah? You want daddy to touch you down there baby?” 
“Y-yes daddy please.”
“Still so polite.” Y/N seemed to melt as he crawled down her placid form, he could do anything to her and she wouldn't mind as long as he was touching her in some way.
She suddenly gasped when she felt him blow warm air onto her nipple beneath her vest. “Can I lift your vest baby? Can you let daddy see these cute tits?” 
“Mhm,” She hummed, her body vibrating with excitement and nerves. Harry’s fingertips brushed the skin of her tummy as he pulled her vest up to reveal her breasts. 
“Fuck baby,” Harry groaned. “You’re so beautiful.” 
“Your shirt too!” Y/N insisted, feeling a little insecure as Harry was still in his white shirt.
Harry was quick to pull off his shirt to reveal his tattooed torso that Y/N had traced and slept on almost every night since they had met. Her hands were immediately on his warm skin as he kissed down the swell of her breasts. Y/N gasped as Harry gently pressed a kiss to her left nipple, sliding his other hand up to cup her other one, “See that? Y’ were made for daddy.” He said as her breast fit perfectly in his hand. 
“Daddy I need you,” Y/N whispered.
“Such a greedy girl.” He tuts, “Trying to worship you ‘n you’re just begging me to make you cum.” 
“N-no-” Y/N wanted to argue but Harry quickly kissed her lips before moving down her body. 
“Look at these pretty panties. Can already see you’re all soaked through them.” Y/N could practically hear the smile on his face. “Can I see baby?” 
“Y-Yes, daddy.” She swallowed back her nerves, even though Harry had already seen her down there, it was her first time experiencing someone be so up close. Y/N felt his fingers hook around the waistband of her panties until they were halfway down her thighs and waited for him to react.
“Fuck me,” Harry hisses. “Won’t ever get over the sight of this pretty pussy. Always manage to live up to y’ nickname, don’t y’ flower?” 
Y/N’s cheeks heat but before she has time to protest Harry leans forward and presses a kiss to her throbbing pussy. She snaps her thighs shut tightly and gasps, “W-what-“
“Shhh flower,” Harry kisses her knee and then gently hooks both her legs over either of his shoulders so she can’t close her thighs to hide away from him, “Daddy’s gonna take the ache away okay? Know you’ve been feeling all needy for daddy. Gonna do something that’ll help and put you right to sleep m’kay?”
Y/N swallows harshly and fists the fabric of the blanket beneath her. Her heart was racing and her belly was swirling with need and desire as she waited for Harry to do something.
He kissed the inside of her thighs, “You trust me?” He asked, waiting for her approval, “Because I’ll stop as soon as you say so, promise y’ that.” 
“Yes, daddy.” She said because she did trust him, wholeheartedly, “I trust you.”
“That’s m’ girl.” Y/N waited until she felt his warm breath blow over her pussy. His mouth pressed another kiss to her before she felt his tongue swipe across her slit. Y/N gasped at the unfamiliarity of it as he flicked his tongue softly over her to get her accustomed to it. His eyes looked up to see Y/N’s reaction at the first touch of his mouth. He smirked to himself as her breasts heaved cutely and her cheeks were flushed pink. 
“Harry,” she whimpered.
“S not my name flower.” He murmured against her. 
She tried to close her thighs but Harry’s head lay buried between them, licking and stroking his tongue against her. He wrapped both his tattooed hands around her thighs to keep them open, pressing his fingertips into her plushy skin. “Daddy,” she whined.
He licks up her wet cunt once more until he finds her clit. Y/N jolts at the sudden attention to her sensitive bundle of nerves. His lips pucker against her tiny, pink clit glistening with arousal, a whimper eliciting from Y/N’s lip. He moves his tongue in circles around it before gently sucking on the small bud.
Y/N’s a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him as he licks and sucks on her clit, her wetness coating his chin. She bucks her hips against his mouth and quickly removes one hand from the bed to weave into his hair. Harry groans as she tugs on his curls, his cock leaking precum in his trousers, the vibrations going straight to Y/N’s clit. 
“Daddy, f-feels so good,” She mewls, continuing to tug on his hair. Harry ruts his hips against the mattress, in hopes he could get some relief as he continues his assault on her pussy. 
“Y' so fucking sexy Y/N.” He grumbled, unable to stop his attention from her weeping, little cunt.
Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the coil tighten in her belly. Harry’s hand removed itself from her thigh and slid up the bed to reach for her hand that wasn’t already in his hair. He intertwined their fingers as if comforting her without saying anything. 
He paused his assault on her clit, Y/N whimpering at the sudden loss. Instead, he flattened his tongue against her once more before dipping his tongue into her hole a little as if testing the waters to see whether she’d like it. Y/N’s back arched and Harry’s hand left hers to place itself flat against her tummy to hold her still, the cool metal of his rings made her shiver as they touched her skin. His tongue delved in and out of her, using his other hand to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.
Y/N’s mouth fell open, her head fell back and her legs turned to jelly. “Y close angel girl?” Harry murmured, peeking up at her to see her blissfully zoned out from his touch. 
“Feels s’ good daddy, s-so so so good,” She babbled her head lolling from side to side. 
“Wanna cum baby? Wanna make a mess on daddy?” He urged her, feeling her core clench. 
She jerkily nodded, “Mhmmm,” She hummed. 
“Lemme have it, baby, daddy worked so hard, lemme taste y’ cum.” He hastened his movements on her clit and continued to lick and suck at her pussy, “Cum f’ me baby.” He coaxed. "Can't wait to feel y' round my cock someday, practically begging to feel y' tight, little hole. 'm gonna be the first and only one to fill y' up, isn't that right? Gonna let daddy stretch you out and fill y' up. You're all mine, 'm favourite flower."
His filthy words set Y/N alight. She felt the coil snap as pleasure rushed through her entire body and filled all of her senses. Harry groaned, continuing to press himself up against the bed until he felt his own orgasm building too, his lips staying on Y/N as she came. He lapped up her juices, riding her through her orgasm and tasting all she had to offer for the first time. “That’s my girl baby, so good.” He cooed. 
Harry’s eyes rolled back as his cock released inside of his boxers, his head falling to the side and resting on the inside of her thigh as he breathed heavily, “Fuck,” He groaned, eyes rolling to the ceiling. 
The room was quiet other than the sounds of them trying to catch their breath. Harry kissed the inside of Y/N’s thigh and worked his way up her body, placing soft, spongy kisses on her bare skin until he was face-to-face with her. 
Harry grinned lazily, his eyes tired as he brushed the hair off her face. His heart stuttered; he felt himself losing his breath all over again despite having just come down from the high of his release as he looked down at his girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glowing from the afterglow, tendrils of baby hairs framed her face and her eyes were hazy and soft as she looked into his own. 
“Thank you daddy,” She whispered to him. 
Harry pressed a kiss to her lips. Her legs hooked around his waist as he circled his arms around her to pull her in tighter, “You okay? Was that good? Not too much?” He wanted to make sure she was okay before anything else. He’d hate himself if he did something she didn’t like or didn’t want to do. 
“M okay,” She smiled, her voice tired. He kissed her once more knowing she could probably taste herself on his lips. “It felt good.” 
“Y’ made me cum,” He admits, feeling the discomfort of his own release in his boxers. 
“I did?” Y/N’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. 
“Yeah, flower. That was so fucking sexy.” Y/N whined and tried to hide herself behind her hands. Harry chuckled at her reaction, grabbing her wrists to move her hand away and kissing her forehead before lifting himself from her. “Let’s get y’cleaned up.” 
Harry walked over to Y/N’s dresser to grab himself some clean boxers from the drawer he had curated from the nights he had spent with her. He also grabbed her some clean underwear and one of his shirts to wear to bed. 
In the bathroom, he got himself cleaned up and grabbed a cloth dampening it under the running water in the sink for his love who was waiting for him in bed. Harry paused at the door when he entered her room after he was met with a sight he longed to treasure in his mind forever. Y/N was lying completely bare on her bed. Her eyes were shut, her chest moving up and down and her hair was sprawled out around her. He didn’t know how he got so lucky with her, she was a living angel.
“C’mere flower,” He murmured, spreading her legs apart slightly and trying not to react to the sticky, glistening mess between her thighs. He placed the dampened cloth against her and calmed her down as she jolted beneath his touch from how sensitive she was. 
Once they were all cleaned up, Harry climbed under the blankets with Y/N half asleep against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ran a finger up and down the length of her spine beneath her shirt.  "Sleep now, flower," he whispered his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. The warmth of his presence soothed Y/N to fall asleep. 
In the hazy blur of her consciousness, she murmured, words slipping from her lips without thought. "Love you," she breathed, the three words escaping her lips as effortlessly as a sigh, yet she remained unaware of what they meant. 
Harry stilled, his breath catching in his throat, “W-what?” But Y/N didn’t reply, instead, soft snores left her lips as she fell asleep beside him. 
. . .
It was the Friday after Harry had taken Y/N to the beach. Fridays were always busy at the tattoo shop so Harry was working away until the late hours of the evening. Y/N sat on a chair, her legs swinging backwards and forward as she played a game on Harry's phone. The sound of the tattoo gun hummed in the air whilst a bossa nova played over the Bluetooth speaker. Harry was still working despite the fact it was nearly time for Y/N to go to bed (She had a strict regime before bed which gave her exactly eight hours of sleep each night). He had promised her this would be his last customer as she waltzed into his tattoo shop, ready to go to his apartment together.
Harry hadn't mentioned to Y/N what she had unknowingly said in her sleep. When they woke up the next morning, he gently broached the subject, asking, "Hey, do you remember anything you said last night while you were asleep?"
Y/N, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, just shrugged in response. "Not really," she mumbled, her voice heavy with drowsiness. "Did I say something strange?"
"No, not at all," Harry assured her, though inwardly, he couldn't shake off the weight of her words. "Just thought you might've had a dream or something." But even as he spoke, he couldn't shake off the lingering memory of her whispered confession, playing over and over in his mind like a sweet melody. 
"Y' holding up okay there m'love?" Harry checked in, working on the final few finishing touches of the tattoo he had been working on.
"Mhm," She smiled but Harry could tell she was getting sleepy from the way he'd caught her eyes fluttering shut when he glanced over at her.
"Can go sleep on the couch out front if you're feeling sleepy." He offered, wanting to make sure his girl was okay before he finished off the tattoo for his customer. He knew first-hand how grouchy she got when she didn't get her sleep.
"M okay here Harry," She insisted, thinking she was lying to him well enough over how tired she was. "Can I watch?" She strained her neck to get a better look at what Harry was doing.
"Course flower, c'mere," Harry pushed his chair forward to give Y/N space to stand behind him so she could watch over his shoulder. He pushed down on the peddle and continued the tattoo as Y/N watched over him.
"Does it hurt?" She wondered, watching the needle press ink into the customer's skin.
"Jus' a little sting but when you've had so many it's not so bad," Harry replied.
Y/N watched in fascination. She was not only impressed by the design Harry had drawn out and tattooed to the customer so effortlessly but also how brave people must be to have such a permanent mark on their skin. She tilted her head to the side, "I want one," She mumbled.
Harry paused, "What?"
"Nothing," She replied, quickly.
Harry had heard what she said but decided he'd bring it up when there wasn't another person in the room, knowing how shy she got around people she didn't know.
After completing the tattoo, he wrapped it up and chatted with the customer for a little bit. Meanwhile, Y/N browsed through his tattoo design sketchbook with a furrowed brow. Once the conversation was done, he shut the door behind the customer and turned the sign to 'closed.'
He walked over to his seemingly overthinking flower and kissed the top of her head, "Wha's wrong m'love?" He smiled softly, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into his chest.
"Jus' looking H," She tilted her head back to look up at him, kissing his chin in the process.
"Didn't know we were telling fibs tonight flower," He teased, spinning her around in his embrace.
"M not lying," She hid her face in his chest because he always knew when she was lying and she was most definitely lying.
"Can you look up f'me baby just f' a sec," He murmured and looked down to see the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, round and sparkling under the blue lights of his shop. "Woah," He whispered to himself.
"What's wrong?" A crease appeared in between her brows.
"Nothin' just...you're so pretty," She whined, nuzzling her face into his neck to hide her very red face. Even though it was hard to tell under the blue lights, he knew she was blushing. "Hey, no, can I have a kiss please?" He cupped the back of her head and pulled her away from the comfortable spot in his neck.
Y/N stood on her toes to kiss him, tasting the tinge of eucalyptus lip balm she had given him when he had complained of having sore lips from kissing her too much in the colder weather. "So y' want a tattoo?" He murmured against her lips.
Y/N pulled away, "I-I was just thinking but-"
"You're not sure?" She nods. "Don't have to get a tattoo today m'love, especially if you're not sure." Harry comforted her, seeing the uncertainty on her face. He kissed the crease between her eyebrows but her eyes were fixed on a tattoo on his upper arm.
"Where'd you get that?" She asked, her fingers skimming over the small design. It was a fine line drawing of a pair of angel wings with a flower in the centre between each wing. Harry had designed it not long after meeting Y/N and had only tattooed the design onto himself a few days ago.
"Jus' a little something I drew 's all." He shrugged, "Reminded me of you."
Y/N's lips parted like she couldn't believe what he had just said, "For me?"
He nods, "Wanted to have you somewhere on me at all times."
Y/N goes quiet and Harry gives her the time to think as he packs away his things to head upstairs. By the time he's finished, Y/N's tugging on his sleeve and looking up at him with rounded eyes, "I think I'd like a tattoo, Harry."
Harry bit back a smile, "You do?"
"Mhm," She nodded, seeming sure of herself, "But I want you to do it."
"Wouldn't let anyone else do it anyways flower." He pulled out the kit he had just put away, not feeling annoyed in the slightest because he loved this girl and would set up his equipment all over again even if she decided she no longer wanted the tattoo anymore.
Y/N shimmied up onto the chair and glanced over at him, "What are you wanting on you baby?" He asked.
"I want the same one as you please Harry," She says, referring to the tattoo of the angel wings.
He smiles, "Wanna match with me, sweet girl?" He kisses her lips quickly.
Y/N nods, beaming up at him, "Yes please."
"So polite," He taps her cheek before going to his worktop and drawing out a stencil with a careful hand.  Y/N sat in the chair with her feet hovering above the ground. She was fiddling with her fingers in her lap as she glanced around at the designs she had admired many times before when she'd sit and wait for Harry whilst he worked.
"M'kay lovie, where'd you want it?" Harry asked.
"Oh," She pursed her lips, "I didn't think that far."
"Didn't think that far?" Harry chortled, "How about on your arm?” He squeezed her arm softly above the crease of her elbow, "Won't hurt too bad if we do it here."
"Okay Harry," She nodded, trusting him implicitly. Harry wanted to smother her in kisses with the way she was looking at him like she would do anything he said without even questioning it.
Harry prepped everything, making sure he had all he needed to start the tattoo. He went a little slower than he normally would, wanting to give her enough time to make sure she was certain about getting the tattoo. He mixed up the ink and switched on the tattoo gun as Y/N lay back against the leather chair.
"Y' okay flower?" Harry checked again, expecting to get the same answer he had already gotten only for her to chew on her lip and scrunch up the fabric of the skirt she was wearing.
"M a little nervous," She admitted, blushing.
"Hey it's okay to be nervous," He cooed, dropping the equipment and rolling over to her on his chair. He leaned against the seat she was lying in so his face was up close to hers, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and the feeling of his hands calmed the nerves Y/N was feeling. "It'll hurt a little bit. Some people say it feels like a little like a tiny scratch but you get used to the feeling."
"But what if you start and then I don't want it anymore because it hurts?" She realises she should have asked these questions before they had gotten this far.
"Tha's why you need to be sure you want it sweet girl. Don't wanna see you in pain either but it's a small tattoo so won't take long and it's on your arm which means it hurts a little bit less." Harry explained.
"Okay," She nodded, "B-but can you distract me a little? It'll help if you distract me."
Harry smiled, kissing her lips, "Can distract you any way you want, baby. Here," He removed the dog tag necklace he wore all the time without failure and handed it to her, "Can fiddle with this while I draw on you."
Y/N felt her shoulders relax a little as she felt the cool metal in her hands, "Okay Harry." His lips pressed against her forehead, "Okay Y/N." He grinned.
Harry pulled on some gloves and got the tattoo gun running. Y/N went stiff as the humming sound filled the room but she reminded herself of Harry's words and continued to play with his necklace. "Okay, ready baby?" He gave her one last kiss for comfort and then, when she nodded her head, the needle made contact with her skin.
She gasped as the tiny needle pricked at her skin. It wasn't as painful as she thought it was going to be but it wasn't comfortable either. She tried to relax but her muscles were all tensed up.
Harry tried to comfort her as best as she could. Whispering words of encouragement, "So good baby, y' so brave." He'd say and tell her it would be over in a moment even though a moment felt like an eternity in her mind.
"Is it over yet?" She was starting to feel the discomfort and was already waiting for it to finish.
"Almost angel," He cooed and finished up the final lines of the drawing. "There we go, all finished."
Y/N let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding and immediately her eyes flickered down to the tattoo Harry had drawn on her. She was in awe of how beautiful and intricate the design was and how quickly Harry had managed to draw it so perfectly. It was a perfect size on her arm, the angel wings matched exactly the same as the ones Harry had done on himself. She almost squealed with how happy she was with her first ever tattoo and how it was a permanent reminder of her sweet and loving boyfriend.
Harry grinned as he watched her face light up when she saw the tattoo, "'Y like it?" He asked, preparing the cream and wrap to put on it before she did something that would get it infected - they both knew she would do that if he wasn't careful.
"I love it, Harry!" She grinned, her smile lighting up the whole room.
Harry laughed at her happiness, "You're welcome baby." He applied the cream and wrapped it up before she could move anywhere. Instead of leaping out of the chair, she wrapped her arms around Harry and pressed her lips to his. He hummed, "Best tip I've ever gotten." He murmured.
"I kinda want another one," She couldn't stop looking down at her tattoo and taking in how pretty it was.
"Woah, slow down there flower, think you should wait a while until the next one." He repressed a smile. "But I'll happily draw up another one f'you."
"Okay Harry," She said, not really paying much attention to him.
"Alright c'mon, le's go upstairs. Wanna kiss you in bed if tha's okay." He quickly put all of his equipment away as Y/N gawked at her tattoo.
"I think I'd love that more than the tattoo," She sighed. Harry decided not to pull her up on the fact she was probably telling another fib. 
. . .
"Y/N is that a tattoo!" One of her friends, Shakira, spoke out.
It had been two weeks since Y/N had gotten her first tattoo and she still wasn't over how pretty it was. Every morning she'd wake up and look at her arm and tell Harry how good of a job he did.
"No wonder you're a tattoo artist Harry!" She'd say, to which he'd just smile and sit patiently as she rambled about how much she loved her tattoo and how she wanted him to draw her another one.
"Oh yes!" Y/N rolled up the sleeve of her pyjama shirt so her friends could get a better look, "Harry did it. Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, thinking of her boyfriend who she hadn't seen since this morning.
Y/N had planned a slumber party at her place a few weeks ago since she hadn't seen her two friends, Shakira and Layla, in forever. She'd known them since high school and were the only two friends she really had other than Harry who was also her best friend. 
Harry had promised he'd stay away and give her some much needed girly time. Although Y/N didn't like the idea of being away from Harry, she knew it was needed. He had some things he needed to do anyway and she wanted to give him space to do that too.
"Do you think he could do one for me?" Layla asked, her arm already littered with small tattoos.
"I can ask him for you if you'd like," Y/N offered, receiving a nod from Layla.
"What's it like being in a relationship?" Shakira asked, "I mean Harry seems the complete opposite of you, I'd never have pictured you together."
Y/N smiles, thinking back to their first interaction and how intimidated she was by him. Now she couldn't get enough of him, wanting to be with him and touch him whenever she could. "I know but Harry's... I don't know, he's not like how people assume. He's kind, caring and lovable. We have a lot more in common than most people think and even the things we don't have in common, Harry always listens to the things I have to say even when he doesn't completely understand."
"Awwww!" Y/N blushed when she realised she had been rambling too much again.
"You're so cute Y/N," Layla grinned. "And we're so happy for you. Harry seems like a great guy."
"He is," Y/N agreed, shyly.
"Have you said I love you yet?" Shakira smirked.
Y/N's smile faltered, "N-not yet..." She looked away from their gazes, "But I think I'm just waiting for the right time. Harry always has these moments where I think he's going to say it but he never does and part of me thinks he's still questioning it." Y/N admits.
Layla offers her a sympathetic gaze, "I'm sure he's just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you Y/N. Saying I love you can be a pretty big deal for some people."
"I know," Y/N nods in agreement, "And I'll wait for him, however long it takes."
Y/N spent the remainder of the evening gossiping and watching movies with her two best friends. Now and then, she would look down at her phone just in case Harry had sent her anything but nothing appeared other than a blank screen. She couldn't help but feel a little bit deflated that he hadn't checked in on her like he usually would but she quickly pushed the feeling away. Harry had other things he was doing, she'd see him later.
"Thank you for having us Y/N! It was so good to see you, we need to do it again sometime," Y/N stood at the door to say goodbye to her friends. It was nearing midnight and she wondered if Harry was in his apartment waiting for her.
"Thank you for coming! I missed you guys," Y/N chirped, she really did miss having her girlfriends around. She was so busy with work and spending time with Harry, that she rarely had time outside of those things. But after today, she was going to make it a priority to see her friends again.
"See you later Y/N!" Her friends waved as they walked down the steps from her apartment. Y/N smiled and waved until they were out of sight. She planned on calling Harry to check in on him and see if he was alright but a crash from his apartment halted her steps.
She paused, stilling herself so she could hear a little better. Another thud came from his apartment followed by a string of curses and something that sounded like a clutter of things falling on the floor.
"Harry?" Y/N called through the door but received no response. "Harry, are you okay? It's me, it's Y/N."
"Y/N," Harry's voice murmured through the door. Y/N relaxed a little at the sound of his voice but she was still worried about him. It wasn't normal for him to keep his distance from her like this.
"Harry, are you okay?" She rested her hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it so she could see him with her own eyes.
"I-I'm fine baby. Go t' sleep m'love. I'll be there in a little while," Y/N frowned when she heard him wheezing a little as he breathed between words. He spoke much too slowly compared to his usual drawl as though it was too much work for him to speak.
"Harry please, jus' wanna see you." She tries again, hoping he'll open the door.
"Promise I'll be there t' give you your kisses baby but I jus' need... a moment," Y/N's face fell.
"H-Harry you're scaring me," She said, quietly.
Harry was on the other side of the door, clutching onto his side. He was already hurting but hearing his angel begging to come in was killing him. He couldn't leave her out there. She looked the perfect remedy to his currently aching body when he looked through the peephole of his door and saw her already in her pyjamas, looking all snuggly and cute.
"Not tryin' t' scare you, dove. Please I'll be out in a minute." He hoped she would listen like she normally would. He needed enough time to clean up as best as he could so he could return to her- looking like the Harry she knew- but she wasn't having it, reminding him of just how stubborn she could be when she wanted to. 
"Harry, I-I'm gonna open the d-door. I have to see if you're okay," She spoke, clearly and carefully.
Harry looked down as the doorknob twisted. He wanted to twist the key and lock it to keep her out but he lost control of his own mind as he stepped back and allowed her to push the front door open.
He stood under the dim light of his living room. He had been meaning to get the lightbulb fixed but he'd been spending too much time at Y/N's apartment to remember.
Her eyes went from his feet all the way up to meet his face. Her lips parted and her eyes started to water, his heart ached at the sight. "No baby," He stepped forward, pulling her into him and holding her to his chest even though it ached to do so.
"H-Harry," She whispered, her voice cracking, "What happened?"
She pulled back and cupped one of his cheeks in her small hand. Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, he could have sworn every ounce of pain lifted from her touch alone. "Was out with a friend, you know, the one who deals," He explained, referring to Mike who Y/N had met. He didn't want to hide from her and she already knew he smoked weed regularly so it was no surprise to her when he told her he'd been smoking, "We pulled over so he could drop something off but I guess the customer got a little aggressive. He was probably on something but he was refusing to pay I think Mike said. I was in the car and all I saw was this guy trying to swing at him. I ran out to help him and we managed to get away before he had the chance to do anything worse but he obviously managed to get a good few hits in before."
Harry hadn’t remembered the last time he had gotten into a fight other than when he was a teenager just after his parents got divorced. He had managed to get a few punches in, making his knuckles all red and cut up, but he'd also been the victim of a few hits too. He had a black eye, a busted lip and a pounding headache from the impact of the punch he had received.
"Harry," Y/N choked on a sob, "Y-you could have been seriously h-hurt,"
"I know baby, I know." He cradled her head in his arms as she wrapped her arms around him, not squeezing too tight because she knew he was in pain. "But 'm here now."
Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him, "You were helping Mike?" She asked.
"'s all I was doing baby, promise." He hated how worried she looked so he was willing to do anything to comfort her until she knew he was okay.
She pulled away, "W-where are you hurting?" She looks down as if checking him for any more bruising. He could see her visibly starting to panic, her hands shaking and her chest moving up and down rapidly.
"Hey, c'mere, c'mon now." He picked her up and brought her over to the couch, "M okay sweet girl, nothing to worry about anymore. Calm down f' me, please. Hate seeing you in a panic." He uttered to her, rocking her back and forth with her face buried in his neck. 
"You're all b-bruised," She whimpered, "Y-you must be in so much pain."
"Not anymore my love. Hmmm, my flower is here, takin' all m' pain away aren't you dove?" He kissed her shoulder.
"C-can I help you?" She whispered, eyes blotchy and red from crying a little.
"Wanna patch up m' bruises love?" She nods as if there was nothing else she'd rather do than be there for him. "Alright, le's go to the bathroom and y' can help me." He carried her to the bathroom and placed her on the counter near the sink. He grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink and handed it to her. "Didn't know m' girlfriend was a little nurse." He smirked, a blush covering her cheeks.
Harry stood between her legs with his hands on the counter on either side of her. He watched her as she cleaned the cuts and treated the bruise covering his eye. He smiled when the tip of her tongue stuck out between her lips, "Be careful, I'll bite that tongue." He teased.
Y/N squeaked hiding her tongue away, but quickly composed herself, "You're not getting anywhere near my tongue mister." She sasses and Harry grins so wide, his cheeks hurt.
"No? You don't think I deserve a kiss baby? M in so much pain." He hides his face in her neck and presses spongy kisses on her soft skin.
Y/N giggles at the ticklish sensation, trying to push him away, "No, you can't, not until I patch you up and you stop getting into fights."
"Actin' like I get into fights every other weekend baby," He smirks, "Only f' you."
Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to figure out what to say in such a flustered state from his words. He takes the opportunity to kiss her, their lips pressing together under the low light of the bathroom. He hadn't seen her since this morning and had been missing her all day but knew she needed some time with her girlfriends without him smothering her. It didn't stop him from glancing at his phone now and then to see if she'd called him, just like she had done.
The small time they spent away from each other during the day made him all the more desperate to kiss her. He cradled both her cheeks in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbones. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the baby strands of hair on the nape of his neck. "Missed you," She murmured when their lips parted.
"Missed y' too flower." He hummed, "Don't know what's wrong w' me to want you this bad." His hands travelled down her arms, his fingers brushing over her tattoo as he slid past it before he intertwined their fingers together. “Think m just a teeny bit in love with y’ to be honest.” He confessed. 
And suddenly they were both existing outside of their own bodies.
"W-what?" Y/N's eyes glazed over.
“Oh shit.” Harry cusses, squeezing his eyes shut, his face scrunching in frustration, “Wasn’t meant to be this way flower.” 
“Y-you love me?” Her bottom lip quivered, her brain not quite believing what she was hearing. 
Harry's heart was racing as he looked her in the eyes, "I love you." The words left his mouth and had never felt so right or so freeing. He couldn't understand why now of all moments was the time to finally say it but a piece of himself felt whole and all the pain from his body had left as he told her the three words that had been trapped in his throat for so long.
Y/N's mind whirred as she processed Harry's words. The air seemed to thicken around them, and for a moment, time hung suspended. She searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all she found was sincerity and vulnerability. "You do?" She whimpered.
"Oh no flower, don't cry. Hate seeing tears in those pretty eyes," He began to wipe them away as soon as they fell from her eyes.
"I'm sorry," She blubbered, "I never imagined... I never imagined someone could feel this way about me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Never thought I'd be in love either but here we are," He chuckled, "Love you so much, m'favourite flower." He rubbed their noses together.
Y/N's pouty lips sprouted into a beautiful smile, "I love you too Harry, more than anyone in the whole world."
"Y’ already told me that once before." He smiled, a mixture of adoration and a touch of amusement dancing in his eyes. 
“I did?” She frowned. 
“Mhm,” Harry nodded, “Before you fell asleep, you mumbled it and told me you loved me and when you woke up y’ didn’t remember.” 
“Really?” She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed knowing she admitted something so big in her sleep.
“Honestly,” Harry told her, “Think y’ were probably dreaming or something.”
“Is this a dream? Feels like it,” Y/N whispers. 
“S most certainly not a dream m’love.” Harry kissed her quickly, “Gonna love you forever I think.” 
She leant forward, running her fingers through his hair as his head fell back. He hummed at the feeling, biting on his lip to stop himself from smiling so much before burying his face in the crook of her neck - in the place he loved so much. "Promise." He whispered, lips ghosting her skin.
Their fingers traced lazy patterns on each other's skin, a silent communication between them. The room was filled with the hushed whispers of their love, as if time had slowed down so they could savour the sweetness of this very moment.
Y/N yawned which made the corner of Harry's lips turn upwards, "Y' done fixing me up now? Wanna go t' bed love?" She nodded, wrapping herself around him. He reminded himself to clean away the first aid kit in the morning, his priority was getting his girl some much-needed sleep.
She curled into him when they lay in his small bed, her head resting on his chest right where her heart was. She played with his hair and he ran a hand up and down her bare back underneath her pyjama shirt, "I love you," She murmured into the quiet.
He hoped she could hear his heart beat a little faster at her words, "I love you s' much, flower. With everything in me, gonna be mine forever y'are." He mumbled the words into her ear. 
Harry cupped the side of her face as her tired, glossy eyes looked at him with so much love and adoration, that he didn’t know what to do with it all. In the dimly lit room, they leaned in close, their breath mingling as their lips met in a gentle, passionate kiss. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangled in his hair. They explored each other's mouths, lost in the heat of the moment, their bodies pressed together. Each kiss was filled with longing and desire, igniting a fire between them that burned brighter with every touch.
“I’ve never loved anyone before,” Y/N whispered to him. 
“Really?” Harry smiled. 
“You’re my first love.” Y/N has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling so wildly but Harry tugs her lip with his thumb and suddenly her smile is so wide her cheeks turn pink.
“You’re my first and only love.” He murmured. 
She liked that and she loved him. 
This was exactly where they were both meant to be —with the person who had become not only their first love but their forever love too. 
A flower tattooed to his heart.
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vivwritesfics · 4 months
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Inked Up
Y/N gets a tattoo in honour of her boyfriend, but it also traumatises him
Fluff, crack
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Y/N laid on the table as the tattoo artist pressed the needle to the skin of her hip. She groaned as the tattoo artist went over the B on her tattoo one more time. It hurt, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Her tattoo artist wiped away the excess ink and kept going, starting on the second word of the tattoo. It wasn't a very big tattoo, just two words, three letters long, each.
"This is an F1 tattoo, right?" The artist asked as she finished up. "My partner loves F1 and pointed it out while I was making the template last night."
Y/N let out a laugh. "Yeah. I've been obsessed with F1 for years and my partner actually drives for one of the teams," she answered, the tattoo artist placing the film over her tattoo.
Y/N went to the bathroom to look in the mirror before she paid. It was only a small tattoo, but it was perfect. Her fingertips touched it lightly, not daring to properly press. Not until it had started to heal.
She paid up and was on her way, heading back to the apartment she shared with her husband. He wasn't there at the moment, currently on his way back from Italy. Y/N expected him home within the next few hours.
She pottered around the apartment, picking things up and making herself some food. After an hour Y/N took the film from her tattoo and cleaned it, gently patting off the excess water. Still, she couldn't believe it. She had actually gotten a tattoo.
Suddenly the front door opened. Y/N lifted her sweatpants up, covering the tattoo as she ran to the front door to greet her husband. "Charles!" She cried as she jumped into his arms.
"Hello, Chéri," he said as he kissed her.
As soon as Charles put her down, Y/N pulled him further into the apartment. "I got you a surprise while you were gone, baby," she said, sitting him on the couch.
Charles' eyes went wide as Y/N stood in front of him. She looped her fingers around the waistband of her sweatpants, watching his reaction as she began pulling them down.
Charles didn't even fathom the idea of a tattoo. He thought new underwear or a thong, something along those lines. Definitely not a tattoo.
But then he saw it, two words, six letters. "Box, box?" He read out. But then his eyebrows scrunched together. "Chéri, you didn't."
"I did, Charlie," she said through a grin. "Box, box, just like when-"
"Like when I woke up from my nightmare?"
"Exactly!" She cheered and lifted her sweatpants back up. Suddenly Charles wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him. "You're unbelievable," he said before he kissed her.
He pulled down her sweatpants to get one more look at it. His fingers reached out, going to touch it, but Y/N slapped his hand away. "Not until it's healed!"
"It's hot," Charles mumbled and he wrapped his hands back around her. "I think you should get another."
"Oh really? And what do you think I should get?"
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apclyptc · 5 months
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DUMB— chris sturniolo x reader
synopsis: reader is smart and top of her class in college. chris however, is not too interested in her intelligence.
warnings: full on smut, swearing and also drinking/smoking, use of the pet name baby, use of the word slut, dumbification, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex
“hit her from the back she can’t do nothing but yell,
and she smart as fuck i got this bitch straight out of yale”
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
Ever since you were younger, you seemed to have a gift for memorising and holding information. Because of this, people assumed you studied constantly.
Obviously, you did study. But it wasn’t like you didn’t have a social life. You enjoyed college parties like any other person would.
So when a guy in your class invited you to his frat house for a party, of course you didn’t refuse.
The only thing was, this guy just happened to be Chris.
He was in your social studies class, usually sat at the very back with a couple of his friends in the lecture. You knew of each other, having shared mutual friends from other classes. You’d never really spoken to him one-to-one, mainly because he was always socialising with pretty much everyone, and while you weren’t shy, you also weren’t a huge fan of jumping into conversations with people who all knew each other prior.
It also didn’t help that Chris was the most attractive man you had seen in college, or maybe in your life.
You were good at hiding it, but he made you nervous. Of course, when he invited you to his fraternity house, you faked an air of confidence so you didn’t weird him out.
“Hey, it’s Y/N, right?” Chris began, and when you affirmed with a nod he continued, “I’m throwing a party tonight, you should come.” He threw a smile in your direction, and you pushed down the immediate feeling of giddiness before answering.
“Yeah sure, sounds good. When does it start?” You asked nonchalantly as you could.
“Around 10. You can come whenever, it will be on way into the morning anyway.”
“Great. Am I good to bring a couple friends?” You replied, not wanting to walk into a party alone.
“Yeah that’s fine with me. Ask your friend Lola, my buddy Nate has a thing for her. Just don’t tell him I told you that.” He smirked at you.
That smirk. You wished you could see that smirk while he was hovering over you as he sla—
“Lola, yeah! I’ll bring her along with me.” You snapped out of your less than decent reverie and gave Chris a response.
“Perfect. I’ll see you there, Y/N.” He gave a quick glance up and down your body before turning and walking away from you.
It was then you realised, you had absolutely nothing to wear. Plus, since Chris just personally asked you, you decided you may as well dress as hot as possible.
Y/N: hey lola, frat party tonight?
Lola: do u even have to ask??? usually it’s me dragging u to these things
Y/N: true lmao. i’m gonna need to borrow something from ur closet
Lola: ooooh why, do u need smth slutty?
Y/N: maybe
maybe i was personally invited by the party thrower
Lola: who
Y/N: chris 😇
Lola: GIRL-
ok ok i’ll give u the sluttiest thing i can find
come over later and we can pick something out for u
A couple of hours later once you were finished at college, you headed to your best friend Lola’s dorm.
You two had spent what seemed like hours choosing each other’s outfits.
“By the way, a little birdie told me that Nate has a thing for you.” You eyed Lola up, knowing she had a soft spot for him.
“Oh, really? That’s interesting. Totally unrelated but would you still happen to have that box of condoms I gave you for secret santa last year?” Lola gave you a suggestive look, raising her eyebrows.
“Of course. Already put two in my bag.” You both laughed.
You arrived at the party at 11:27, mainly because no one turns up to a party on time, but also because Lola took a ridiculous amount of time to get ready.
You met up with a couple of girls from the dorms opposite Lola, seeing as they were also invited.
As soon as you arrived, you were immediately shown to the kitchen where an array of bottles were displayed.
Vodka, whiskey, rum, tequila and practically any spirit you could think of, were decorated around the kitchen.
You grabbed two cups, one for you and Lola, and filled it with vodka and soda.
“Hey, I think I see Nate and Chris over there.” Lola points behind you through to the games room, where lo and behold, Nate and Chris were playing what looked like an intense game of beer pong.
The two of you walked over to them, Nate noticing you first.
“Hey! Come help me win the game, Lola.” He gestured for her to play with him.
Chris had then turned around to see you, that smirk appearing yet again.
“You gonna help me?”
You took a quick swig of the contents in your cup before joining Chris at the table.
“Atta girl. Nice of you to bring Lola for my bro.” He spoke in a low voice so that only you could hear.
“Chris, stop flirting and throw the damn ball.” Nate teased, and you felt your cheeks grow red.
Chris threw the ball into the cup closest to him, the object landing into the beer and making a splash.
“Drink up, fool.” he glanced at you to make sure you were watching.
After a while, you had enough to drink to give you a confidence boost, and were now invested in the game of beer pong.
It was down to one cup each, and you had to make the final shot.
“Come on, Y/N,” Chris spoke from behind you, “you got it.”
It was too hard to concentrate with his voice so close to your ear, and his body so close to yours. You threw the ball, but it narrowly missed the cup.
“Yes! Chris you’re a loser!” Nate laughed at his best friend across from the table, throwing his arm around Lola who had locked eyes with you as he did this.
‘Don’t forget the condom’, you mouthed to her playfully, and she winked, pointing to her pocket.
Nate and Lola had then disappeared together, leaving you alone with Chris.
“Sorry I missed the cup.” You joked.
“Apology accepted. You wanna smoke with me?” He pulled out a perfectly rolled joint from his pocket.
You weren’t a huge smoker, only joining with Lola occasionally when you felt like unwinding.
Nevertheless you agreed, deciding you may as well since you were at a party.
Chris lead you upstairs into his room. Your eyes immediately glanced around the room, taking in its appearance.
Chris sat on the edge of his bed, and you followed.
“Could you get my lighter, it’s in the top drawer over there.” He pointed to the bedside table at the wall, and you grabbed the device, passing it to him which he thanked you for.
“Lola and Nate seem to hit it off.” You spoke.
Chris held the joint between his lips, lighting it before replying, “he’s down bad for her. Has been for a while.”
You giggled to yourself, knowing Lola felt the same about him. It was a good feeling for you, because you knew Nate was a nice guy.
“They’re a good match. Nate’s a good guy for her." You responded, watching Chris take the first hit of weed and exhaling the thick smoke.
“Yeah? Is that what you’re into? Nice guys?” He asked you, taking another hit before passing it to you.
You took the joint from his hand and inhaled.
“I guess. I think I prefer someone more… unpredictable.” You had Chris in mind as you answered. You had yet to figure out why he invited you here himself, since you didn’t know each other that well.
“In what way?”
“I don’t know, someone I can’t figure out. I like to be kept on my feet, someone like Nate is easy to understand because he’s straightforward. Which is great for Lola, she deserves someone who is like that.” You thought about all the past few guys Lola had a thing with. They weren’t that nice.
You passed the joint back to Chris who had his eyes trained on you as you spoke.
“So you like the tension, not knowing when or if someone wants you.” He tried to understand.
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice when it’s easy. But..” You trailed off.
“It’s more fun not to know.” Chris finished your trail of thought as if he knew the feeling.
“Exactly.”
A comfortable silence sat between you, passing the joint back and forth until it was gone.
“I have a question.” You asked, breaking the silence.
Chris tapped the joint out on his bedside table, and brought his attention back to you, “Go ahead.”
“Why did you invite me here? I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want to come, it’s just that we haven’t really talked much.” You asked, needing to know.
Chris chuckled.
“I thought it was more fun not to know?” He smirked, using your own logic against you.
“Come on! Tell me.” You persisted.
Chris leaned in closer to you, and you could swear your heart was beating out of your chest.
“I always see you in class,” He began to explain, continuing to close the gap between you, “sitting close to the front, answering all the questions. You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?”
The tension was palpable, and you felt yourself grow wetter as his low voice penetrated your ears.
“I want an answer.” He demanded.
“I- I guess so.” Your voice wavered, all of a sudden finding it hard to speak.
“I’ve always wanted to see how long it takes until I can make you speechless.”
And it surely didn’t take long, because in moments his lips were on yours.
It was as if every guy you had dated never existed, the feeling of Chris kissing you overrode any experience you had thus far.
His left hand rested on the back of your neck while his other hand took the opportunity to roam around your body, from your thighs to your chest, until it landed on your waist.
Your hands swiftly made their way to his arm and hair, while deepening the kiss he had started.
In a quick movement he lifted you onto his lap, letting both his hands find purchase on your waist.
With your arms wrapped around his neck, you slowly moved your hips rhythmically, earning a soft grunt from him.
Pulling away, he spoke, “You want to do this?”
You nodded, before asking the same of him.
“Do you?”
That same smirk that sent you reeling reappeared again.
“Does this answer your question?” He grinded his hips upwards into you, allowing you to feel his growing hard-on.
A whine escaped from your lips.
“No more talking.”
You reconnected your lips to his, the energy of the room turning into heated passion.
Chris’ hands slowly dragged down to your ass, kneading them with roughness.
You whined again, unable to stop any sounds from leaving your mouth.
The sound of the ongoing party downstairs could be faintly heard from inside the room, but you paid it no mind. You couldn’t, not while Chris had all his attention on you.
He briefly paused to take off the top you were wearing, and then resumed with his skilled tongue, sliding against yours. He took you off his lap, not separating from you for a moment as he laid you down on your back.
“Such a smart girl in class,” he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it behind him, “Does anyone know that you’re really just a little slut?” He kissed your neck, then your jaw.
“I need an answer.” Chris demanded again, and you rubbed your thighs together in want.
“No.” You breathed.
“No, what?” His hand glided up your thigh, separating them.
“I’m not a slut.” You managed to find words.
“So if I reach in between your legs, right now, you won’t be dripping for me?”
You knew you were.
A hand snaked through your skirt, pulling aside your underwear, and he slowly dragged a finger down your pussy.
“I’ve barely touched you. Do you want me to? Want me to touch you right here?” His finger, coated in your slickness, inched its way inside, just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy you.
You bucked your hips up, trying to feel something, anything.
But Chris pulled his hand away, causing you to whine in frustration.
Luckily for you, he wanted to feel you so badly, he couldn’t tease you for long. He grabbed the hem of your skirt, pulling it down your legs and threw it in the same direction as his shirt.
“I want to hear you. You love opening that mouth when we’re in class.” And with that, he pulled your underwear aside and attached his mouth straight to your throbbing clit.
All you could do was moan and writhe in his bed as he delved into your wet cunt, licking up all the arousal like a starved man.
Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on it desperately. The vibrations from the groan that left his mouth sent waves of pleasure tearing through your body.
Chris’ hands dug into the flesh of your thighs as they instinctively tried to close around his head.
“Fuck, right there!” You moaned loudly as his tongue dove inside your hole.
One of his hands left your thigh and drew circles on your clit, causing you to arch your back at the white-hot pleasure you felt from his ministrations.
Chris could feel his dick pulsate through his pants at the sounds you were making. He needed to feel you.
“You want me to fuck you, huh? Fill you up good?” He asked, and you knew by now he wanted an answer.
“Please, please, please.” Were the only words you could muster, too high on the feeling Chris had given you with his mouth.
He wasted no time on giving you what you were begging for, quickly discarding his pants and boxers, along with your bra and soaked panties.
Lining himself up with your entrance, he slid his dick over the slick of your pussy and pushed the tip in.
Your eyes had shut in anticipation, but when he made no attempt to move you opened your eyes to look at him.
He had waited until you made eye contact with him before pushing his entire dick inside you.
You both moaned at the full feeling, your walls contracting around him.
After a few seconds, Chris began to move.
Thrusting in and out at a slow pace as if to torture you, he shuddered, revelling in the feeling of your tight cunt.
“Fuck, feels so good baby.” You whined at the pet name, bringing his face down so you could kiss him again.
He started picking up the pace after this, your tongues smashing together in absolute need.
“Faster, faster.” You babbled, drunk off the sensation of his cock piston in and out of you.
“Yeah? You want me to fuck you dumb?” He grunted, loving how you could barely string full sentences together.
“Yes, yes, please. Need you deeper.”
The dirty words spilling from your mouth caused him to moan, and he flipped you onto all fours.
“Wanna see that pretty little ass bounce while I fuck you.” He muttered as he entered you yet again.
His pace was relentless, his balls slapping against you from the way he was pounding deep inside you.
You were just making sounds as you tried to say “Harder, faster, more,” but the words couldn’t form properly.
“The slut wants more? Can’t even speak but you’re begging for more?” He taunted you from behind.
You felt a sharp slap on your ass, followed by a soothing rub directly after. You practically yelled as Chris’ hand came down, your cunt convulsing.
“Knew you’d like that,” he slapped your cheek again, “Can feel you squeezing around me.”
You could feel the knot in your stomach unraveling, and you knew you wouldn’t last longer.
“Chris, gonna cum.” You managed to speak between moans.
“Come on baby, need you to cum while I’m inside you.” He groaned, trying to hold his own release off.
His words guided you right to your orgasm, shaking and crying while you came.
“Fuck, you want my cum inside you? Want me to stuff you full?” His pace was losing rhythm, chasing his orgasm while simultaneously overstimulating you.
“Mm, cum inside me. Want to feel it.” You cried, thrusting into him so you could feel more of him.
“So good, feels so good. Oh, I’m gonna cum inside of you,” Chris rambled, “Gonna fill you up with it.”
His moans were uncontrollable, spilling out of him as he relished in the warm feeling of your pussy.
“Cumming.” He grunted, as ropes of his cum spurted out, coating your insides until there was nothing left.
You both took the time to catch your breath, as Chris pulled out of you with a shaky sigh.
“Let me get you a towel.”
You turned onto your back once more, trying to comprehend the mind blowing sex you just had while dozens of people were partying downstairs.
Chris came back with a towel, cleaning the both of you up and passing you your underwear back.
“Hey.” You finally spoke, tired from all the stamina you had just burned.
“Hey.” He replied back to you.
“That was… amazing.” You sighed.
“Yeah, it was fun.”
You weren’t sure if he wanted you to leave now, or if you were supposed to stay, so you opted to do nothing.
“Let me take you on a date.” He announced, and you laughed.
“Don’t you think we’ve done this all a little backwards?”
Chris smiled and brought your head to his shoulder.
“I guess I’m just unpredictable.”
You then remembered you didn’t even use the condom you brought with you. You’d have to make your first date with Chris a trip to the pharmacy.
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
a/n haha…. always wear a condom, kids!
hope you enjoyed my first oneshot.
send me any requests you want me to write! i think i’m gonna do an nsfw alphabet next, for chris and matt too
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dontexpectmuch · 8 months
Text
“jude!”
no response.
you called again, “jude?”
walking out of the kitchen into the living room, you see your boyfriend laying on the couch, phone in hand.
“did you not hear me?” confusion settled on your face. it’s not like that he had headphones in or anything like that.
“i did.” he responds, finally looking up.
the confusion stayed put on your face as you walked closer to your boyfriend. he looked quite comfortable you note, eyes tired and clothes wrinkled.
you’ll definitely cuddle up to him later.
“so? why didn’t you answer?” this time you were standing next to him, hands leaning on the armrest of the couch.
“well, you didn’t call me by my name, so i wasn’t really sure whom you’re talking to, y’know?” he explains, head resting against the couch as he starts to draw shapes on the back of your hand.
you start to speak up, trying to form words that could express your current state, “jude, what? i, what?”
“sorry, love, i only go by babe, i thought you knew.” jude shrugged, looking back at his phone.
you continued to just stand there, looking at him unamused.
he wasn’t being serious, was he?
however, this is also the jude that refused to let you attend his game without his shirt, claiming it would bring bad energy to the match.
it was also the same jude that wouldn’t let go of you in the morning, asking if you really loved him and how one could leave the person they love in the morning.
it was the jude that would always call you by a cute nickname, getting more creative with those as each day passes.
“okay, but seriously, i really need you to come and help me with that stupid box, i think it’s frozen? don’t know.” instead of going further into the topic, you just continue to explain what you have had called your boyfriend originally for, hoping to finish making dinner soon.
“what’s the magic word?” jude looked at your face, eyebrows raised and smirk present.
“please?”
he shakes his head, scoffing, “it’s ‘babe’, babe. i thought you understood that?”
“jude, c’mon.” whining, you grab his hand and try to raise him onto his feet. to no avail, whatsoever, since he simply refuses to comply to your wishes.
“just say it, dude, it ain’t that deep.” he shrugged, eyes never leaving your face.
“it’s also not that deep if i don’t.”
“it is, though.”
“it’s not.”
“it is.”
“jude”
“you mean babe?”
“fine, you win.” you begin, sighing at the situation that you’re in, “babe,” you lean down, hands now taking judes face between them, “could you please help me to open that fucking box before i throw it at your head?”
your smile resembled dripping honey, eyes shining with something sinister behind them.
“yeah, sure, babe.” was all he said as he gets up to go to the kitchen.
unbelievable, you think to yourself, shaking your head as you follow him into the kitchen.
—————————————————
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buckets-and-trees · 1 month
Note
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You're such a wicked menace, Eva!
Title: Insatiable Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 1845
Summary: Your new boyfriend comes along when you pick up the keys for your new apartment and conduct the move-in inspection.
Content Warnings: explicit smut (oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, hint at overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie)
Logistical Notes: Fulfilling my February box for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky Bingo event (forehead kiss, fingering). Follows our Desperate couple but can be read as a stand alone piece.
Additional Notes: Honestly I didn't have any plans to return to our rivals-to-lovers couple from Desperate and Uncertain and Sure again so soon, but this gif hit a certain inspiration and may pull from some literal "reader insert" vibes as I'm moving into a new apartment right now... Also thoroughly inspired by this post coming across my dash today thanks to @ghotifishreads.
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
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You couldn’t help the permanent smile on your face.
Yes, moving was going to be a hassle, and you didn’t have a clue how everything was going to fit into this tiny one-bedroom apartment, but being back in the place again, keys officially in your hands, the place really yours, standing in front of the bright living room windows that made your heart sing when you first saw the place, that feeling that this was your place warmed your whole chest again.
It was hard to break away from the light streaming in through the windows, but you turned your head to look at Bucky. “So? What do you think of the place?”
He was new to your life, too.
The kidnapping and rescue in Paris had been only a month ago. Over that month, you and Bucky had been figuring out what the revelation of your feelings for each other meant outside of a life and death situation. Parts of that were easy, other parts were trickier, but nothing that made you want to abandon ship.
“I think it’ll suit you well,” he answered. His smile was soft. You loved seeing this side of him, especially after so many years of angst and rivalry between you.
“You’re practically glowing with excitement,” he added.
Your smile grew to a grin, and you shrugged one shoulder. “It’s smaller than the place I’ve been, but I couldn’t resist all this sunlight.”
You turned around and looked at the empty living room that bled into the kitchen area. “I want to try and measure things and figure out where everything will go before the movers bring the furniture in tomorrow. I’m still worried about whether all my shelves will fit or not.”
You set your bag down on the kitchen counter and began to pull out a measuring tape, the blue painters tape you planned on using to map out the furniture shapes on the floor and rummaged for the hastily scribbled together list you’d made of your furniture dimensions.
Bucky had remained silent – he was often so silent you could forget he was present when you got immersed into something – and you spun back around to see him still in the same position across the room by the windows, studying you.
“What?”
“You know what we have to do before anything else,” he said seriously.
“What’s that?”
He licked his lips.
Oh.
Your stomach flipped.
“Bucky, we can’t–”
He chuckled. “You have the keys, it’s officially your place,” he said, stalking toward you. “We absolutely can.”
Before you could utter another word, he reached for your elbow and tugged you into his arms, planting a sound kiss right on your mouth, swallowing all protest. He coaxed your lips open, and his tongue licked into your mouth, drawing an eager moan from you.
Damn, he was too good at this, you thought as your hands came up to clutch at his back.
He pressed your bodies together, and you were not surprised to feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you. One thing you had learned about Bucky over the last month was that he could be ready to have you on the turn of a dime, and he could be insatiable. That your body responded so quickly to him as well was both blessing and curse. Less than a minute and you were melting completely against him, eager for more, and you could feel the slickness already growing at your slit.
Your hands dropped down his back, but only to reach the hem of his sweater before dipping under so your fingers could eagerly climb up against his naked skin. He grinned into the kiss.
With his sweater quickly halfway up his torso, Bucky broke off the kiss momentarily to pull it up and off the rest of the way. Then he coaxed you down to the floor, spreading his sweater down on the hardwood floor and laying you gently on top of it. His body covered yours, and he began kissing you in earnest again, his vibranium arm planted next to your head while his other hand began deftly working at the buttons on the front of your blouse.
It was only another moment or two before he’d pushed your shirt open to bare your torso to him, and Bucky wasted no time in trailing his hot lips down your throat to blaze down your chest, paving a heated path between your breasts, over the band of your bra, and down your stomach. He gave your belly button a playful lick that had you gasping and a giggle bubbling up your throat.
“Bucky!”
He chuckled, and reached down to pull your shoes off as he pressed more kisses over your stomach. Then, with both shoes discarded, he knelt above you to unbutton and unzip your jeans, before pulling them down and off your legs. As your legs came back down on either side of him, his hands skimmed slowly along your inner thighs, and when they reached your core, he pressed one thumb at the base of your clothed slit and brushed it up over the damp cloth of your panties, the other thumb following just after and teasing you again there. You canted your hips up, wordlessly asking for more.
Bucky smirked, but he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and quickly pulled them off, tossing them to the side as well.
“Please,” you begged.
“Happily,” he whispered, then lowered himself down to wedge his shoulders between your thighs, pressing them wide to accommodate his broad frame. He licked a stripe up your dripping slit, moaning at the taste of you.
Your stomach swam with butterflies and your cheeks heated slightly. You had never been with anyone so unabashedly open with their desire for you as Bucky. He held nothing back when expressing his pleasure, his desire. It was a heady thing to be on the receiving end of, and you it still had you between feeling slightly flustered and drowning further in the depths of how intoxicating it was to know the effect you had on him.
He applied a second, slower lick over your folds, and then he began to kiss your lower lips the way he did your mouth, and your entire body coiled up for him, back arching, hands grabbing for his short hair, legs contracting.
“Bucky, god, yes,” the words tumbled out as you quickly began to lose more and more of your coherence.
But he was slow and torturous in his ministrations. You squirmed for more, but he held your pelvis down with one firm hand, while the other gently caressed your hip. Your fingers found his vibranium ones, and he entwined them with yours and started to fuck your cunt with his tongue.
When he heard a little whine escape from you, he began to suck your clit diligently. The orgasm that he’d been building you toward escaped from you briefly, but the switch picked right up on building that tension again, and he flicked his tongue a few times across your swollen nub as he sucked, and then you cried out as you finally tumbled over the edge of ecstasy.
He pressed a kiss to your cunt, then shifted up, quickly maneuvering his hands beneath your back to unclasp your bra and pull off your last piece of clothing. It was the only moment of reprieve he gave you, because then his mouth dipped to suck at one of your tits, and one of his hands worked into your folds, slowly stroking in and out of your tight channel. Two fingers curled into your pussy, and he quickly found one of his favorite places – that spongy spot on the front of your walls, knowing he found exactly the spot he needed as you gave a debauched moan. He slipped in a third finger, and as he sucked the hardened nub of your nipple and lapped at it, he worked to rip your second orgasm from your soul more quickly. It was clear nothing was going to deter him from his plans to ruin you in the empty apartment, and you could only be glad you were up on a floor high enough you didn’t risk any neighbors seeing in your open blinds to see the way he was taking you apart right there on the floor.
The second orgasm burst through your body unexpectedly, and it stole the breath from your lungs.
It had ripped through you so powerfully that you didn’t register the clinking sound of his belt buckle coming undone and hitting the floor as he unzipped and pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs.
But you noticed he wasn’t finished with you as he slipped one hand under your thigh and angled your hips to slot the head of his cock between your puffy folds.
You whimpered, fighting to open your eyes and plead your case as you looked into in the depths of his heated blues. Whether you were pleading for him to stop or for more, you really didn’t know or care at this point.
He hitched your leg up around his hip and slowly slid his fat cock fully into your cunt. “So damn good.”
You moaned openly, completely debauched on pleasure at this point, but clearly your pussy wouldn’t refuse him plying you with even more of it.
Deep, slow strokes.
You felt every aching inch of him as he thrust slowly in and out of your tight channel. He still made you stretch around him, and it was exquisite for both of you.
Full, so full.
In and out.
So deep inside of you now, and you could do nothing but make incoherent noises beneath him, gasping for air. “I know, sugar, I know," he murmured into the crook of your neck. "Gonna give us what we both need.”
And he fucking does, as he does every time, using your body as if he’s had you for years. He rewarded you both with an orgasm that truly leaves you boneless and breathless once he finally pushed you over the edge and then sped up his thrusts to chase his own release as your vagina squeezed around his throbbing cock. He groaned as he spilled hot ropes of cum inside of you, thrusting until he’d emptied himself in you completely. Finally, he collapsed on top of you, and pressed kisses into the crook of your neck, then along your jaw, allowing you to try and catch your breath before finally kissing your lips again.
You whined against his lips, and he rolled over, taking you with him, and letting you lay half on his chest, half against his side. He continued to kiss you lazily.
You didn’t know how long he continued to make out with you, but the sun’s rays had shifted significantly once he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you rested your head on his bare shoulder.
“It’s a good floor,” he said, almost mundanely.
You laughed softly.
“We’ll need to check the counters a little later,” he added.  
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↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
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cherryobx · 2 months
Note
Hey!! I saw that you are taking requests (I also want to procrastinate studying, lol), so I thought I would request a Rafe oneshot where maybe he is helping his girlfriend move into her dorm and a bunch of frat guys start hitting on her and asking if she needs help and he gets all territorial and jealous? Just some cute fluff? Please and thank you, lovely!!!
Move-in day || R. C.
summary: Rafe helps you move in to your dorm but becomes territorial when a guy doesn't get the hint.
word count: 1.3k
a/n: i'm not sure i like this one but bare with me i haven't written anything in more then a year so, thank you sm for the request!!! i love how all of you are supporting my procrastination and/or procrastinating yourself haha
warnings: some guy
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You unlock the door, revealing your dorm room. It’s very basic and bland but you can’t wait to start decorating it to make it feel more like home and a safe space for you to relax in. There are two single beds on each side of the room. Also two closets and tables for you and your roommate who hadn’t moved in yet. Your roommate was assigned to you by the school since you didn’t have any friends or acquaintances that were also going to this college. You’d much rather share a room with someone you know but it is what it is.
You choose a side of the room and sit on the edge of your new bed, looking around the room and taking everything in. You can’t believe you’re actually here. After all the hard work and applying to many different colleges, you got into your dream school. You’d only dreamed about this place in your head and now you’re physically here.
You then leave the room and on your way outside you dial Rafe who dropped you off and then went to find a good parking spot near the housing. 
“Yeah?” he answers the call.
“Where are you?”
He describes where he parked his car and directs you to him. You already see him from across the parking lot and give him a wave, which he returns with a big smile and a wave of his own.
The trunk of his car is popped open and he’s already stacking boxes into the carts provided by the school.
“How was it?” he asks as soon as you reach him, referring to the room. 
“Pretty okay.” You shrug and grab a few bags from the back seat, slinging them over your shoulders. Then you manage to grab a box of your books as well. It’s heavy but the room is not that far away.
“Are you sure you can carry that much?” he calls after you.
“It’s rude to call your girlfriend weak, Rafe.”
“I’m not calling you weak!” he defends himself.
“Yeah, right,” you laugh. “Third floor, 5th door on the right.”
You leave him unloading the car in the parking lot while you make your way back to the building. On the way to the third floor, you bump into some guys on the staircase. 
“Hey! Need any help with that?” one of them asks, hands already outstretched. Since your shoulders are already hurting because of the weight of the stuff you’re carrying, you accept his help. What were you thinking taking the stairs? The elevator was right there.
He takes the box from your hands and lets out a grunt. “Damn, that’s heavy! What’s in here?” he starts making his way up the stairs and you follow, adjusting the straps of the duffle bags on your shoulders. The dude’s friends follow you two, whispering something unintelligible behind your back but they’re too quiet to make out what they’re actually saying.
“My books.”
The guy chuckles and asks where your room is. You tell him and soon enough you reach the third floor. He pushes open the door leading to the third floor dorms and holds it open for you while you scramble past him to your door. You fish out the key from the pocket of your pants and open the door. 
“You can just put it on the table.” I let the guy into my room while his friends linger in the doorway.
Thanking him, you throw the bags on your bed. He places the box gently on the table and then turns to you. “What’s your name?”
“Y/N.” You give him an awkward but polite smile, hoping he’d get the hint and leave now but he leans against the desk, crossing his arms on his chest instead. He looks like he’s not planning to go anywhere.
“You wanna come to a party tonight, Y/N? Bunch of upperclassmen are throwing a little party for the freshmen. You could be my date.”
You stare at him, eyes wide. “Uhmm, thank you for the invite but no. I have a lot to unpack and-”
“Oh come on!” he interrupts. “We could have fun and get to know each other. And drink.”
“No, thank you. I appreciate your help and all but I think you should go now.”
“Don’t be like that! You haven’t even given me a chance.”
“You will not get a chance either way. I have a boyfriend.” 
“So? You’re in college now, let loose. He doesn’t have to know. ”
Meanwhile Rafe has finally made it to the third floor with the two carts full of your belongings. He pushes them out of the elevator and towards your room. Already from the elevator he can see two guys standing at your door, which he finds very suspicious. He faintly hears the conversation going on in your room and his blood starts to boil. When the two guys standing there notice him arriving, they scurry off and Rafe scoffs before entering your room.
“Know what?”
The guy leaning on your desk is startled and he stands up, not so cocky anymore. “Uhh…”
Rafe now stands between you and the guy whose name you don’t even know. He straightens his back and stares him down with that mean look he has but which he has never used on you. The other guy is obviously intimidated by him since Rafe is basically towering over his shorter frame.
“She said no. She has a boyfriend. So I suggest you leave before I punch you in the face so hard no girl will even look in your direction ever again,” Rafe growls.
“Whatever she’s not worth it anyways.” The guy shrugs and turns to leave. Rafe’s fists are clenched by his side and he looks like he’s about to strike when you place your hand on his back, making him look at you over his shoulder.
“Drop it.” Rafe takes a deep breath and you feel his shoulders relax under your touch.
The guy lets out a scoff as he leaves but Rafe’s eyes remain on you. “Are you okay?” he asks, worry laced in his voice as he turns to face you, hands now on your shoulders.
“I’m fine. He just helped me with my books and he got the wrong idea.”
“A very wrong one at that. I was so close to punching him in his stupid face for even talking to you in the first place.”
You place your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat under your palm. “You can’t stop every guy from talking to me. You’re not even here most of the time.”
“Watch me.”
“Rafe.”
He rolls his eyes.
“I’m serious. But he was a jerk anyway. I go for non-jerk guys.” Your lips are turned into a slight smirk.
“Do you now?”
“Yeah.”
“Am I not a jerk?” he asks, hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you flush against him.
“Oh, you definitely are, but just not to me.”
“I’d never be a jerk to you. You know that, baby. But you’re mine. I can’t stand the thought of guys like him talking to you.” He lets out a frustrated sigh.
“I know but I can handle myself.”
“I know you do.” But the next time he visits, he hands you a little box which contains a necklace with his name so everyone knows you’re taken.
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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months
Text
Academy
Hardersson x Preteen!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Your first academy session
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Your first official day of academy training comes after Momma and Morsa have retired.
You've moved back to Sweden properly now with constant trips to Denmark as well. But, mainly, you're based in Sweden. Momma and Morsa have gone into coaching and sometimes commentating while you're left going to school and practicing.
You'd done a trial in the summer for Linköping FC and got in and now you're sitting in the car with Momma and Morsa psyching yourself up to go in.
You're eleven now - nearly twelve - and you open and close your hands into fists as you look over at the training centre. There's a group of similarly aged girls to you waiting outside, getting ticked in on the register as they stand in a clump.
"Do you need us to come up with you?" Morsa asks, also looking at the girls.
You shake your head. "No. No one else's parents are there." It's a lie, of course. You desperately want them to walk you up there but it'd be embarrassing so you're leaning away from the option.
Momma turns back in her seat and reaches her hand back to hold yours. "Hey," She says," It's only for a few hours. You go in. You listen. You do what they say and then we'll go and get takeout for dinner. Sound good?"
You nod, wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. "Yeah."
"We love you," Morsa says," And if you hate it, you don't have to go back."
You slip out of the car and approach, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you sign in. It doesn't take long for everybody else to arrive and soon you're all being brought inside and handed trainings shirts and stuff.
Then, names are being read out.
You're still young so roles like defence, midfield and forward are still fairly flexible but some people (like you) are already firmly in little boxes so you're easy to separate out.
But, most of your peers end up in a group in the middle because they either haven't chosen their roles or don't yet know what they'd be good at.
There's a fairly large group of forwards which Momma told you last night would happen. At your age, everyone wants to score a goal and most of these girls will end up as attacking midfielders before the year is up. Speaking of the midfield, they're a much smaller group than the self-proclaimed forwards and the defenders are even smaller.
You're the only goalkeeper, feeling a little awkward as you sit at a table all by yourself until the trainer comes.
He smiles at you. He's kind of got one of those old people smiles that Momma's dad has, all warmth and happiness.
You smile back.
"You know," He says, his voice barely above a whisper," I wasn't actually expecting any keepers today. Usually, everyone wants to score a goal."
"That's what my Momma says."
"Your Momma sounds very smart," He replies," Now..." He pulls out some sheets of paper. "I'm meant to explain all the ins and outs of everything. It's meant to take a while because we leave time for questions but, if you let me get through this all then I'm sure we'd have time to play a few rounds of noughts and crosses while everyone else finishes up. Sound good?"
You nod.
He's right, of course. Everyone else takes ages to explain everything but keeping is fairly straight forward and you're the only keeper here so there's not other people around to ask questions.
"Whoa there!" Morsa says as you crash into her at the end of training," You're all sweaty!"
She's right.
You are sweaty. Hair sticks to your forehead and your shirt to your skin. You're sure that you're all gross feeling but Morsa doesn't care as she hugs you back before ushering you into the car.
"How did it go?" Momma asks as she pulls out of the car park," Good? Bad?"
"Good!" You say, a grin splitting your face wide open.
"What did you do?" Morsa asks, turning in her seat to look at you.
"We played a little game," You answer, practically bouncing in excitement," So they could all see where we were at and the individual trainers laid out the plans for each week."
"Were there a lot of forwards?" Momma teases as she turns onto a road.
"Uh-huh. I was the only keeper though."
"That'll change," Morsa assures you," Those kids that haven't decided yet will end up cycling through everything. I'm sure one or two of them will be keepers."
"It's fine," You say," I'm not upset. I don't need other keepers."
Your mothers laugh softly.
"You still need to make friends," Momma says.
"I just want to train," You insist stubbornly.
"You can train and have friends too," Morsa puts in," In fact, I'd go so far as to say you need friends to train well. Promise me, princesse, that you'll make some friends."
You huff. "Fine," You say," I'll make friends."
"Good. Now, what did you want for dinner?"
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weeknd-ogoc · 5 months
Text
ENAMORADO ˙ ˖ 𖥔 OLIVER BEARMAN
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SUMMARY: in which ollie finds himself deeply in love with his girlfriend and always doing little things for her. CONTAINS: mexican!reader, jealous!ollie, a little sex talk with his mother 🤭 & major fluff! AUTHOR'S NOTE: thank you guys for reading, my requests are open!
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(the smaller words in parenthesis are the english translation!)
if someone were to ask oliver bearman what matters to him the most in his eighteen years of life — for someone his age you'd think he'd say his family, friends or even his career but it was never that.
he'd say his answer with a smile on his face each time. "my girlfriend of coarse, she's the love of my life."
the two of you had been dating for a year now and yeah everyone who saw you two could tell you were obviously deeply in love with him but they could also see that oliver was completely head over heels for you.
"moving in together?" oliver's mother questioned him. "don't you think it's a little soon for that?"
"well we were thinking maybe next year..."
his mother adored you but she knew the two of you were young and in love but she also knew that sometimes relationships this age didn't usually last.
the next time she saw oliver he was happy but something was off, he seemed a bit suspicious. she observed the both of you for the rest of the day until finally oliver had slipped up and revealed a little red mark on his wrist.
"oliver bearman." he heard his mother say.
uh oh.
she went over and scanned his wrist. "you did not!" she scanned yours and saw the same thing.
a little red tattoo, an o on your wrist and your first name letter on his.
"i'm going to strangle the both of you..." she mumbled out.
after that his mother nearly had heart attacks every time he told her he wanted to talk to her about something and was relieved when it wasn't something bad.
"this is not the conversation i want to be having but it needs to be asked..." she sighed as she sat the both of you down. "are you guys using protection?"
"mom!"
his mother looked at him with a serious face.
"yes we are." he responded "mm well sometimes..."
you hit him in the chest and your face instantly heated up.
"oliver!" his mother and you yelled.
once that awkward conversation was done, his mother bought you guys a box of condoms and the subject was never talked about again.
oliver had invited you to go to mexico with him since he had his f1 debut on friday, you could tell he was nervous but he didn't want to talk about it.
upon arriving to mexico he was excited to get some alone time with you since the both of you lived in different places, you guys always seemed to be together though.
"since the drinking age is eighteen here and i'm eighteen and you're nineteen, i think we should ord-"
you shook your head. "absolutely not. your mom would have a heart attack and kill me if she ever found out."
he groaned before kissing your forhead and taking your luggage away from you. "boring."
so thursday morning he invited you to go get breakfast before heading to the paddock for media day.
you had found a little coffee shop and the both of you walked there.
"baby, it's just not the same as yours..." he pouted as he opened the door for you.
you let out a laugh before kissing his cheek and walking past him. "i'm telling you the ones from here are so much better!"
he had always said your chocolate de abuelita was the best so if you guys had been back at home he would've loved for you to make it, you had also put him on mexican sweet breads and now he was obsessed.
"dos chocolate calientes y dos conchas, por favor." he heard you tell the waiter as he opened up his straw and began using his finger to turn it into a circle. (two hot chocolates and two sweet breads, please.)
when you looked back to him he began twisting the piece of paper. "ollie, what are you doing?"
once he tied the paper he put out his hand out for yours and you tried giving him your right hand but he shook his head. "left hand."
you handed him your left hand and he slipped the paper ring onto your ring finger.
“i'll give you a real one sometime soon...” he smiled as he admired his artwork. "right after i get you the hacienda style house that you're always going on about."
you leaned over to give him a gentle kiss on his lips. "god, i love you."
he placed another kiss on your lips. "not as much as i do."
the man came back with the order and oliver smiled at him. "gracias."
as the man walked away he gave you a goofy little smile. "you see i can speak spanish too."
the both of you quietly ate your breakfast and he found himself finishing quicker than you. "it was good, real good but i prefer yours."
he had a little milk mustache and you laughed as you wiped his mouth with a napkin. "sure you do..."
𖥔
you followed oliver all over the paddock as he did some interviews here and there. he was super excited since he was going to be doing these in a few years — while you were admiring him, a certain boy from mclaren came by to say hello to you.
“is that miss l/n?” you heard a voice say and wrap an arm around you.
oscar piastri, someone you had known for a few years now.
"oh my god oscar, i haven't seen you in like forever!" you squealed and hugged him back.
oliver saw the whole interaction and found himself getting distracted during the interview since he was watching the two of you have a little conversation. he was never a jealous person in his other relationships but with you it was different — he knew he had nothing to worry about with you but you just never knew what the other person could be up to.
before the two of you had started dating, you were hanging around arthur leclerc since your families had been close so that must've been how you knew oscar he thought.
arthur was the one who had introduced the two of you awhile back and oliver had always told him he was so grateful for that.
"hey, i'm oliver." he introduced himself to oscar.
"nice to meet you. you'll be practicing with us tomorrow, excited?"
he nodded and wrapped his arm around you. "excited and a tad bit nervous."
oscar nodded. "you'll be fine, see you guys tomorrow."
as he left oliver planted a kiss on your cheek. "i was thinking maybe we can stay in mexico for a few more days after the race on sunday, maybe go to a resort or something?"
you nodded. "i know a place!"
𖥔
the next morning the both of you went to the coffee shop and ordered the same thing as yesterday. oliver had been strangely quiet all morning.
"stop being so nervous ollie, you're going to do amazing!" he gently grabbed your hand with a smile.
"i love you, you know that?"
"i know." you smiled. "and i love you too."
after you guys finished, you met up with arthur as oliver was getting ready, the both of you were hanging around charles and carlos who were also getting ready.
"you're going to do amazing babe." you reminded him and gave him a kiss before he could slip his helmet on.
you spent your time cheering on for oliver and when he placed fifteenth place, he came out happy as ever and swooped you in for a kiss.
that night ollie had convinced you to go to a bar to celebrate with arthur and a few other drivers.
the bartender gave you guys a few options and they let oliver choose.
casamigos.
"this is going to give your mom a heart attack." you mumbled before taking a shot with them.
this wasn't the first time you had drunk but it was his so after his third shot, he was starting to get a bit chatty and arthur watched him with amuse.
"you're just so beautiful you know..." he mumbled and moved a few strands of your hair behind your ear. "you make me chocolate de abuelitas and you're just so sweet." he continued listing the reasons why he loved you. "ugh baby you just make me so happy!"
you kissed his cheek as arthur began laughing at the boy, even taking a few pictures and videos.
"alright i think its time to go my sweet boy, you can tell me the rest of your lis-"
"you know what, i also love that my family loves you and i love when you play with my hair and you're so supportive of me."
arthur got up and began helping you take him into a taxi as oliver continued ranting. after ten minutes you guys arrived back into the hotel room and as you helped him get ready for bed, he grabbed onto your cheeks and kissed you.
“i'm going to really marry you some day...” he mumbled out as you began running you fingers through his little curls.
you nodded and kissed his cheek. “of course ollie, some day we will get married.” you agree.
“we can have like three children and a lot of animals in our house here in mexico...” you smiled and nodded along to the future plans he had for you guys.
before the both of you could fall asleep, he wrapped his arm around you and kissed your cheek. "yo estoy enamorado contigo." (i'm in love with you)
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f1 & f2 masterlist!
© weeknd-ogoc, 2023
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svnqsn · 8 months
Text
𝑵𝑼𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑬
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☆. # SHIP — itoshi sae, gn!reader.
☆. # SYNOPSIS — you'd never thought you'd ever sit in the family box in a massive soccer stadium in spain while it's pouring rain, but here you are.
☆. # WARNINGS — none??? sae also calls reader pretty once. fuck off my blog if you think that these adjectives are gendered.
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— you asked sae to teach you a little about the rules of soccer before he takes you to the stadium to see him play
— his answer was “you don't need to know the rules. your only job is to sit there, look pretty f'me and watch me win.”
— (not that this man needs one but) having you in the audience gives him the biggest ego boost ever
— immediately hands you his jacket when you two get out of the car and it's pouring rain—he'll be out on the field getting wet either way, at least one of you should be dry and warm
you two step outside after the driver drops you off at the stadium and it's pouring. the rain is heavy and doesn't look like it'll stop anytime soon, if the big, dark clouds in the sky are anything to go by. and because you're in spain, you're didn't bring a jacket and you're standing there in a t-shirt.
you look up at the sky, when suddenly something warm and heavy is placed around your shoulders. you turn and see sae standing next to you, wrapping you in his jacket.
“here,” he says and pulls the hood over your head.
— he won't have time to walk you to the box off the side of the field that's reserved for family members, but he'll definitely have someone escort you there
— as if itoshi sae's partner would ever have to walk through a sea of people by themselves. that's a no go, especially because soccer games can get a little rowdy
— you're honestly shocked at how massive the stadium is. sure, you've seen it on tv and videos, but seeing it in real life is something else entirely
— once you're seated in the little booth on the side of the field, you pull sae's jacket tighter around your body and hide your face in the collar of it
— you watch as the players jog out, clutch the necklace with his jersey number in your fist and give it a little kiss
his eyes find you easily during the game. he doesn't look at you often during it, but whenever he does, his eyes seem to say “you only need to look at me.”
— honestly, the game goes as both sae and you had already expected: sae's team wins with 5:3 and sae makes the last goal
he definitely looks at you after he scores the final goal. his eyes immediately search for you and he looks over to see if you were watching him. you definitely were. he doesn't do anything, but a smirk lights up his face a little.
he feels so good when he sees you standing there, cheering for him. it's the only form of acknowledgment he really needs. he doesn't care for his teammates that come over to give him a slap on the back and he skill fully avoids a few side hugs, but his eyes stay focused on your face.
— i feel like he isn't the type to run up to you after a won game or anything like that. he wins all the time so he doesn't rlly see it as a special enough occasion to do anything like that?? like. he never expects to lose so,,, yk he doesn't see why he should make a big show out of it.
— but when you're both at home, you tell him how cool he was and how good and sae acts like it isn't a big deal
— goes on to say stuff like “it was obvious that i would win.” but inside his ego grows so much when you say stuff like that
— aka don't do it too much. he already has a big enough head tbh /jk
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