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hamiltonells · 2 years

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max verstappen,

careful max verstappen

just y/n and max being the main couple of the paddock

warnings: smut, angst. bad writing spelling mistakes will fix them later on

might do a part two, let me know if you want it. enjoy!!!

PART ONE, fluff

“be careful” you mumbled into your lovers shoulder, as you was standing in between his legs as max was sitting on the side of the red bull garage, getting ready for the French gp.

“always am” he smirked, as he lifted you up by your thighs just as jos walked into the garage talking to a engineer. you and jos had an interesting relationship, he thought you didn’t deserved max and you thought he was way too hard on max, but you was respectful and kept quite for maxs sake.

“think your needed” you whispered, you sensed joss eyes on the two of you, you went to unwrap your legs around his waist, “hm no stay” he protested, nuzzling his head in your shoulder and down you cleavage “er not happening” you tutted and pulled his head back seeing him frown “your might be cute verstappen,we are not doing this in public” you pecked his lips.

“jè bent zo mooi” he mumbled on your lips “cute. but I have no idea what your saying”

your so beautiful

About ten minutes later you was watching boyfriend of four years, getting ready to put his helmet on. “hi baby”you whispered into his ear as you give his a kiss into his helmet, “drive safe yeah” you nodded as he agreed as he pulled you into his arms “stay in the garage and I’ll tell Christian to give you an head set” his broken English not helping the matter as he mumbled through his helmet as you placed another kiss into the top of his helmet.

“I love you” you mumbled into his arms “I love you too”as the moves to walk away you smack his arse and smirked as he shook his head.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“MAX VERSTAPPEN, WHO STARTED ON THE FRONT ROW, SEES THE CHECKERED FLAG” you’re smile couldn’t get any bigger as you stand up and clap, taking the headset off you look up and see Christian walking (more like skipping) towards you and giving you a hug, “he’s more than a champion” he whispered while walking you towards the barriers

Your hand finds your necklace as you wach max get out of the car and runs towards the red bull crew, looking down you see MV33, max brought it you on your second anniversary, you never took it off even when you fought or during the bad times you always had it on.

You’re snapped out of you memory when Max comes pacing straight into you, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck “so so so proud” you speak as you press a kiss into his neck (more like his race suit) “every race I win is for you y/n, ik houd van je he”

i love you

you smile as George and Lewis make their way to the podium, clapping along. Tears start to blur your eyesight as your lover comes running into the first place podium-giving the fans a wave, he points to you, giving him a little wave as you other hand tries to wipe away the hot tears strolling down you face. God you’re love for max will never change

PART TWO fluff,smut

“no fuck off!” is all your hear while your doing the washing up, soft radio station your listening to flows through the kitchen, grabbing maxs cup of coffee you make your way into his gaming room, your careful not to make too much noise as you know he’s streaming.

You softly open the door, as your set his drink into his table, “mhm thank you Schat” as you place a kiss into his forehead “yeah she is” you hear him talking to whoever is speaking in his headset.

treasure

you go to walk out but his hand grabs into yours and pulling you into his lap, “hi maxy” you giggle as you move a piece of hair that has come undone with his hair gel, arms wrapped around his neck and into the back of his chair, “piss off lando” he says as he wraps his arms around your waist, you lean you head against his so you can hear whoever’s talking.

“y/n is max daddy?” you hear a British voice speak out, you throw your head back as you laugh while max shakes his head ”he most definitely is” you giggle into the headset “oi you” max pinches your sides “what you are” you whisper and you get off his lap as you feel a sharp smack to your ass ans run off as your laughter runs through the house.

your in the bathroom brushing you teeth when you hear max walk in as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist and his hands glide up your pyjama top, his cold hand make you shiver.

“so I’m daddy? hm” you can hear the smirk in his voice you don’t even have to look at him “shut up” you smack his chest while you turn around “wanna talk a quick shower with me” he mumbled into your neck as he pressed a few kisses there “meh it won’t be quick though will it” you say as your arms wrapped around his waist “please” he begged, you pulled his shirt over his head “take that as a yes” he smiled happily

“always so rough” you pout as you head hit the shower wall. “why are you complaining? your normally beging for it” max smirks as his lips glides across your chest.

"Oh, fuc-k," he muttered. He tightened his grip on your thigh, squeezing, then pulled you closer towards him and wrapped your leg around his waist. "There."

Your head knocked against the shower wall as he began to thrust, gently. The angle was so deep that your moans of approval were impossible to swallow and you diverted your eyes, squeezed them shut to focus on the building pleasure.

His pace was suddenly faster, bruising, his hips working into you relentlessly, punishingly and with nothing to hold onto your hand reached out for the tap, the other clawing at the marble beneath you.

"Fuckkkk..." you groaned and dug the heel of your foot into his back. Your head knocked against the wall again and you could barely keep your eyes open, maxs hand somehow found your throat and he gave it a squeeze.

You felt everything threatening to spill out of you, your control, professions of devotion, cursing and moaning as your walls clenched around his thickness and still he moved you, rocked you into the wall.

your couldn’t hold on any longer, max’s broken English and his Moans went straight through you.

Max groaned loudly and you fell over the edge with him, falling away from the room, the almighty noise you'd just heard and instead deep into the euphoria of your orgasm, your walls contracting and melting around him as he came deep inside you, still squeezing your throat, still thrusting back and forth with the little energy he had left. He was panting, but leant in to kiss you, parting your lips with his, his thumb stroking your throat again, soothing the pain and pleasure he'd caused.

“another round” he asked you looked at him, your look alone told him his answer “okay,alright only asked, as he slipped out of you, he pressed a kiss into the side of you head as he helped you clean up and into bed.

PART THREE,

“i love you” you whisper, “you make me the happiest, don’t want anyone else but you” you say while you play with his hair.

The two laid in bed together, both of you tangled up in one another.

“I love you- ow!” max was cut of by your hand squeezing his nipple piercing, “sorry-“ you cut yourself off by laughing “I couldn’t help it baby” as you look up at him frowning, “awh baby” you wrapped your arms around him, “you look so cute!!” you squeal as you press a long kiss into his lips, “mhm what we doing today” he asked.

“Your family are coming round at five” your glance at the clock 12:36 “so we have allll day” you smirk as you slid a hand down maxs stomach.

“babe, you ready? said we’d meet them in five” maxs voice echoes through the bathroom “yeah! just-“ you quick shove the test in you make up bag “give me a min” you reply back.

Both you and max has discussed having kids, but the subject of when to have them haven’t popped up, you worried that he might not want them yet, or that he might walk out, and the four years with the love of your life was for nothing.

You put a smile on your face and walk out of the bathroom to see Max with his hands in his pocket of his grey shorts, he looks handsome with a classic white shirt.

“you look beautiful, my dovè” max presses a kiss to the side of you head “you should wear white more often” he smiles smiles softly at you as you look down and smooth your dress out.

“just need to put my heels on and we are ready to go” you say while sliding one heel on and using maxs shoulder to help you, “shall we” you threw you head back in laughter as max out his arm out for you “ we shall” you put slid your arm through his.

“you okay,you seem quite” max asks while walking to the restaurant you had booked, “yeah I’m okay” you smiled at him, you hated lying to him, he was your bestfriend, your lover, your soulmate, and you couldn’t lose him.

When you arrived at the restaurant maxs mom, and sister was already there, you both greeted each other as you kissed sophies-maxs mums- cheek and doing the same with his sister Victoria.

“I want you to meet someone” Victoria smiled at you, your looked at max and he smirked, and nodded his head.

“oh my gosh, he’s gorgeous” you exclaimed as Victoria passed your her son.

"I have a feeling I'm about to loose my cuddle time,"max laughed, as his family joined him

you shook your head as you stared at the small boy who was in your lovers sisters arms. "It's okay, you keep a hold of him, it's a good look on you," she joked and gently brushed your thumb over the child's cheek.

“hi” you whispered, you couldn’t help but think about max as a dad, well let’s be honest he already is.

"Having fun there, babe? Making a new friend? He's a great conversationalist if you ask me," max joked.

you both sat down, as you passed the bundle of joy to its mom, “where’s dad” max asked confused, “he’s running-“ “speak of the devil as they say” Sophie smiled across to you.

“hi dad” max greeted his father giving him a hug, “hi jos” you smiled sweetly as you stood up to greet him, you didn’t have the best ‘bond’ if you want to call it that but you got on because of max.

an hour later, you was all finishing up your meal, Max’s hand on your thigh, “still can’t believe that max has actually got a girlfriend” his sister laughed.

“only for about 5 years” max mumbled eating the last bit of his meal, “still can’t believe you had another baby and hid it from me!” you changed to subject.

“Maxs fault for keeping you to himself!” She answered back to you.

“can you blame me” max said underneath his breath, “pass me my nephew!” he exclaimed holding the bit in his arms.

“he’ll make a great dad” Sophie nudged your hand under the table, “I know” you smiled the moment was ruined when jos spoke..

“he will but not at the moment, still got at least five more years until he starts thinking about that stuff” jos stated, your heart broke, he was right. max had world championships to think about not you and a baby.

“That’s not your discussion to make jos, he’s ready when he wants to be” Sophie clapped back at your ex husband.

tears burned in your eyes as the table argued, you would have to raise this baby on your own.

“Hey hey hey, you okay y/n/n” Victoria asked across the table and reaching across to comfort you, you kept you head down, the tears getting worse down your face.

Maxs head snapped in your direction “y/n doll what’s the matter?” “can’t” your shook your head max bending down in front of you pressing his slightly cold hand to your cheek.

“talk to me mooie meid” he spoke softly, you could feel his family looking at you both, you let out a sob you hands shaking slightly.

pretty girl

“why are you crying? Talk to me please y/n” his hand going around you to pull you into his chest.

“I’m-“ you broke out a whisper “take your time y/n/n” “I’m pr-regnant” you whispered to him, crying even more heavily, you could feel his hand rubbing your back.

“it’s okay, we’re going to be okay” pulling you even closer, “we’re going to be a family, yeah” he mumbled “you’re happy? your not leaving us” you happily cried.

“of course I am, always going to be you” the two of you was in your own little bubble, while all of this was going on jos was not happy..

…

“again?!” maxs laughter filled the room, as you get up and waddle to the bathroom “not my fault” you grumbled “your child’s!” your jokily pointed a finger at him.

“are you sure you will be okay?” Maxs voice shouted through the bathroom.

“going to the bathroom? I’m sure max” you giggled “that’s not what I meant” he sighed.

you were pregnant. Eight months pregnant to be exact. Max was fussing and worrying about you constantly as your bump grew bigger and bigger and you got increasingly uncomfortable as the months went on.

"maxie, I promise you I'm okay and I can go, it's just your family, sure they can be a little overwhelming but they'll just let me sit around and chill. They'll be just as fussy as you, i love it. You’ll hate it," you told him and max stared at you with a stern expression. "Lighten up," you said and he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

PART FOUR

"Hello”max mumbled as he bent over into the crib to pull his newborn into his arms as she cried. "Did you sleep well?" He asked as he cradled her in his arms, still unable to comprehend how small she was and that you had created her. "Shall we go and get some milk, would you like some breakfast?" He asked again even though he wasn't going to get an answer but her cries soothed as he spoke, calming her all the way down before he left the room and headed towards yours.

You were still sleeping soundly and max hated to wake you so laid his little girl on his chest and just admired how beautiful she was, tears creeping into his eyes as the overwhelming flood of emotions took over. Her eyes were light pale brown like his but had this beautiful tint in the light which came from your side of the family. She had your little nose which she scrunched up whenever she was about to wake up and always made him smile at how adorable it was.

Her lips were a mix of you both, they mirrored your shape but she had the beautiful natural rosy tint of Maxs that pouted in the same way that his did.

She had his little baby ears and the blonde hair that he had as a child, it already started to curl slightly which made him smile proudly. Her overall face shape was yours and he loved that every time he looked at her it was a perfect mix of the two of you looking back.

….

It had been four years since max last won a championship, four years since he'd last stepped onto a formula one car. Four years ago you'd fallen pregnant and max couldn't have been happier at the news and instantly stopped all plans for the next season, insisting that you and the baby were his priority for the next few years.

He still trained, and then the tiny bundle of joy that sat in his office on the play mat when you needed him to watch over her so you could take a moment for yourself. Max obviously agreed without a second thought, loving the little girl even more than you which he never thought would be possible but he couldn't help it. She was the new light of his life and he would spend every second of his life with her if he could.

“right daddy has to go” max told the little girl, bending down and giving her a quick kiss to the head.

“see you later darling?” he questioners you as he stands back up and wraps your arms around him.

“mhm yeah we’ll be there too see you win” you kiss him, “hopefully” he answers and placing a quick slap to your ass before grabbing his stuff and heads out.

🃏

“AND NOW AS MAX VERSTAPPEN ROUNDS THE FINAL CORNER, YOUR 2025 CHAMPION IS MAX VERSTAPPEN” fills your ears, your daughter being lifted up by jos as her laughter is also in the air.

“he did it y/n all because of you” Christian pulls you into him as max parks his car, your hand are on to your face, tears pouring down you face.

max runs to his team, it’s all a blur to you really, max running towards you helmet still on his head.

you squealed before wrapping your arms around his neck. His team around him stood up to applaud “so fucking proud max!” you kiss his helmet one last time before he is also lifted up into the air by his team.

Jos passes you daughter to max “be careful you two!” You shout.

some time later, max had his interview.

"Daddy won!" y/d/n shouted, her voice being picked up by the mic and max instantly burst into laughter along with the crowd.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down and went to speak again but looked to the little girl on his hip and began to laugh again. "Oh dear," he chuckled. "Yes sweetie, daddy did win yeah," he confirmed and the crowd cooed.

"Lalalala," she began to sing as max continued with his speech and she kicked her legs back and forth from where she was sat on his hip.

You dropped your head to your hand from where you were stood and laughed at them. He had insisted she went up with him since he didn't want to experience it without her but you were starting to think he was regretting his decision. "Shh," he laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Just-" he looked to her to see her smiling back at him now in silence, "Just want to thank all my incredible fans for supporting me, throughout the crew and now it means a lot; we all appreciate your continued support. Also want to thank this troublemaker," he said as she applause died down and poked the little girl in her pudgy tummy.

"I am no twoublemaker!" She exclaimed and the audience laughed at her sass.

Max laughed and glanced towards you before looking back to y/d/n "Oh you are, thank you my little love-

"Me?!" Y/d/n said in shock, hand against her chest and max burst into laughter once again and pulled her closer to him to press a kiss to her cheek since he was sure he couldn't love her more than he loved her right now when she was simply being herself despite the watching eyes and making this moment even more memorable for him.

"Yes you, thank you for understanding when daddy couldn't come and play because he had to do some work, thank you for understanding that sometimes daddy couldn't read you a bedtime story because he had an important phone call or meeting, and thank you for being a good girl for Mummy when daddy's been away for long bits of time," he said sincerely and smiled at her.

She wrapped both her arms around his neck and planted a kiss to his cheek, "I wove you daddy! Daddy won!" She reminded everyone and max grinned at her before looking back to where you were in the audience.

"A final thank you to my beautiful wife, I can't thank you enough for what you do for me- for us. You're beyond incredible and we love you so much for supporting what we do-"

y/d/n gasped in maxs arms when she spotted you and waved excitedly. "Wove you Mummy! Mummy won?" She asked max and he sighed before laughing.

"Mummy always wins love," he told her simply, ignoring the aww of the crowd as they heard him through the microphone. "Thank you all so much, this means the world, I love you all, thank you," he finally concluded and dipped his head in a thanks.

#max verstappen x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #lewishamilton #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfic #smut #max verstappen

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thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Arranged-twenty

credit to whoever made the gif. found on google/pintrest.

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: only one more chapter after this one!

Tags(closed): @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @capsgrantrogersclqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99 @evanstanhoney @sebastianstansqueen @portrait-ninja @honeyglee @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @lilya-petrichor @valsworldofcreativity @buckycallsmeaslut @romanoffjohansson @themayzittcha @sapphiredreamer26 @buckybarnessimpp @itjustkindahappenedreally @mavrellover91 @esoltis280 @playboystark @legendarytrashcopeclipse @pansexual-4-all @elizacusi-blog @dnc331 @tee-swizzle @lovsalpkn @yourfavunsub @madebylilly @cerberusmybeloved @lclove2012-blog @onelmstreetett @tesseract69 @monique2281 @wayward-gypsy @wholesomewhorelol @ozwriterchick @pono-pura-vida @bogwaterswamp @s0urw00lf @daydreaming-mood @maggiemae5 @big-heart-ninjasblog @alexa4040 @screaming-les-bean @loustan90 @buckys2lut @marnle

Arranged Masterlist

The birds chirped through the open window as my eyes fluttered open, the blurriness of the room faded. Memories of what happened came back and I sat up in bed with a start. I lifted my shirt over my stomach and gasped when I noticed the bullet hole was gone, the skin looked like it had never been torn.

“The serum worked.”

I jumped slightly, shirt falling, and saw Bucky sitting in the chair across from our bed.

“How long have I been out?” I asked.

He ran a hand over his chin and I noticed how tired and bloodshot his eyes looked.

“Few hours,” he admitted.

“Oh,” I nodded.

The sinking feeling in my stomach wouldn’t subside until I knew what happened.

“Are Steve and Sam alright?”

Bucky gave me a half smirk. “They’ve dealt with worse.”

I began fidgeting with my fingers when I realized that the pain I felt inside still wouldn’t leave. “Did you, uh, take care of John?”

Bucky nodded. “You don’t have to worry about that, doll.”

Tears welled at the corners of my eyes when the disgusting feeling filled me once again. It was overwhelming that I gnawed on the inside of my cheek in hopes to keep myself from getting nauseous.

I thought that killing John would give me a sense of satisfaction for avenging my parents but it only made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be here. I wish that the serum hadn’t worked.

My soft sobs filled the room and Bucky was at my side in a flash, sitting on the edge of the bed. With his vibranium thumb, he began wiping away the tears.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

I sniffled. “I thought that I would feel better about my parents dying if I was the one who pulled the trigger but I feel so disgusted with myself that I did that.”

Bucky sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given you the gun.”

“I don’t know if this feeling is ever going to go away,” I admitted.

He brushed his soft lips across my forehead then leaned his against mine. I could feel his warm breath over my face.

“I’ll be here for whatever you need,” he vowed.

My lips trembled with a sob as I pulled away from him and shook my head. “No.”

Bucky looked at me puzzled. “What do you mean?”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my head on them. “I think I need some time alone.”

His mouth fell in sync with his shoulders. “Wh-what?”

“With everything that has happened, it might be best for us if we spend some time apart, Bucky. We were rushed into this marriage because of the arrangement and instead of using the time to get to know each other, we spent it finding my parents' killer.”

“So let’s get away, just the two of us. Our honeymoon,” Bucky suggested as he reached for me.

I hastily got out of bed, not wanting him to touch me. If I felt his skin on mine, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I would break and end up staying with him.

“I need space, Bucky. Can you please understand that?”

He ran a distressed hand through his hair. “Okay, I’ll go stay with Steve for a few days.”

Tears rolled down my face, the saltiness tasted bitter on my tongue, and I shook my head.

“I need to leave. Get far away for a bit.”

Bucky was fast on his feet, head shaking rapidly. “No, Y/N. I’ll go stay with Steve and you can stay here. Take all the time you need.”

I held up my hands to stop him, sobs shaking through my body. “Stop, please don’t come closer. I’m afraid that if you touch me that I’ll fall into you and stay. I can’t.”

“Doll, we can figure this out,” Bucky said.

“I love you, Bucky! Don’t you understand that?” I blurted, biting my lip right after.

He stared at me wide eyed, his chest rising with a very deep breath. My admission had knocked him off of his feet, him falling back onto the bed. His blue iris dilated and he did his best to find the right words, hesitant breaths falling from his parted lips.

My shoulders slumped. “I love you. Even after everything you lied to me about, I still fucking love you. Which is why I need to leave because I can’t stay with you knowing that you don’t feel the same.”

Bucky was still silent, not knowing what to say.

“I would love to stay with you, Bucky. But this life,” I said while motioning around the room, “This mob life isn’t for me and I can’t make you give it up. Because it’s clearly important to you.”

“I can keep it separate if that will help you,” Bucky said.

I let out a shaky breath. “It’s not enough.”

“I only lied to you to keep you safe, doll. Please understand that,” Bucky insisted.

I was tired of the same excuse. Nothing changed from the first time he used that excuse and nothing was going to change with us. I couldn’t stay with him knowing that he was only using me to cash in a wife.

There was also a quick thought of if I hadn’t agreed to this marriage, my parents would still be alive. They wouldn’t be too happy with my choice but at least they would have been around.

“I need some time to pack my things and I’ll be gone. Give me a few hours.”

I turned on my heels, ready to walk away, but cold fingers gently wrapped around my wrist to stop me. I looked down at Bucky’s broken face and saw a lone tear roll over his cheek; the rest of the tears pooled at the corner of his eyes.

“What about this?” He asked, lifting up my left hand.

My wedding ring glimmered in the setting sun that broke through the curtains on the window and felt guilty for even thinking of doing this.

I went to take it off, ready to give it back to Bucky, but he wrapped his hand over mine to stop me.

“If there’s even a small chance that this could work out between us, keep it please,” Bucky’s voice cracked.

I nodded. “Okay.”

The warmness from his grasp was gone, a chill washing over me, and I couldn’t help but stand there awkwardly in front of him. The decision to leave was already made, I wasn’t going to change it. But there was a small part that wanted Bucky to say those words.

“Can you tell me that you feel the same?” I asked.

Bucky faltered. “Honestly, I don’t know how to feel. You’re leaving me, doll. If I tell you what you want to hear, will it make you stay?”

The last bandage that had been holding my broken heart together faded, pieces falling into the pits of my stomach. There was no surprise that he didn’t feel the same, I had a feeling. But it still hurt when I heard him admit it.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” I bent low and left a firm kiss on his lips, savoring the way he tasted for the last time.

He always tasted like mint, from either his toothpaste or gum.

Bucky had no issues with returning the kiss, his hands gripping tightly to my hips to lock me in place. Fingers ran through his long hair and I grasped the back of his neck to deepen our kiss.

“Y/N,” Bucky moaned into my lips. “Stay, please.”

Reluctantly, I pulled away and rested my forehead against his. “I love you.”

With my own shaking hands, I removed him from my hips and left him behind on our once shared bed. With my back turned, I didn’t see the way that Bucky put his head in his hands and with the way his body shook, he let the tears finally fall.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan

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rachalixie · 2 years

Text

knight in a shining business suit

getting hit on by a creep is never a pleasant experience. the aftermath, though, may be.

warnings: chan x gender neutral reader, reader is called feminine names (“pretty”, “gorgeous”), chan is not the one being the creep!

genre: fluff

word count: 1750+

a/n: first time rolling out my new taglist woohoo!!

the scene isn’t an entirely unique one; you’re at your favorite local bar, nursing a lukewarm beer in your hand as you mindlessly scroll on your phone with the other. this is a pretty normal night for you, you usually find yourself here after work on most days, not wanting to go home and deal with your roommate just yet. your best friend felix is one of the regular bartenders here, and once he introduced you to his coworkers hyunjin and jeongin you can’t think of anywhere better to spend your time. those boys have a way of being so effortlessly entertaining that you lose track of time in here. plus, on karaoke nights, they take over the place, vocals and dance moves enough to dissuade anyone else from following after them. it’s like a free concert without jostling crowds and overpriced food.

the regulars here are mostly 9-5’ers like you, looking for some relaxation after a grueling day of work, or a set of middle aged bearded men who come in biweekly to have pool competitions. you were originally weary of them, but after learning that they were really sweet and loved to show you pictures of their kids in diapers or in the pool, you grew to enjoy their rowdiness. plus, whoever lost often bought a round of drinks for the entire bar, so that didn’t hurt things.

today’s been- different, for lack of better word. when you walked in, there were a bunch of sleazy looking business guys in suits spattered throughout the bar in varying degrees of drunkenness. you’ve never seen anyone dressed up here past a leather jacket and combat boots, and you might have thought you walked into the wrong place if the path here wasn’t committed to your muscle memory at this point. it took one calculated look to jeongin once you got to the bar for him to explain that the admittedly nicer, but more expensive, bar down the road had a gas leak so these patrons had nowhere else to go.

“they couldn’t just go home?” you had snarked as he handed you your drink. he had just shrugged helplessly as he wiped the counter down and people-watched (read: judged) the newcomers from behind the bar.

one of them sidles up next to you and orders a cheaper beer than your own from jeongin, leaving you to brave the man’s presence alone.

“can i get you a drink, beautiful?” the man says, voice slurred, his reeking breath hitting your nostrils and almost making you gag.

“no thanks, i’m good,” you say, gesturing to your half empty beer with your phone and not bothering to look up. you’re still in your work clothes, hair a mess, can this guy not find someone else to bother? or better yet, can he not just leave? this is your space. you don’t care if you’re being petty.

“shouldn’t a pretty thing like you be drinking something more fruity?” he presses, leaning into your space making you cringe back. you finally look up to give the man a stern look, and oh, he’s much uglier and much more drunk than you were giving him credit for.

you’re try to get jeongin’s attention, or hyunjin’s or felix’s, but jeongin is pulling the man’s beer and hyunjin is too busy play-flirting with felix to see your hand frantically waving where the creepy guy can’t see it.

“what‘s your name, gorgeous?” the man says, not even waiting for an answer, clearly not getting any of the hints you’ve been handing out. “my name is-“

“don’t finish that sentence,” you hear a firm voice say from your other side, and you’re whipping your head around to look at bang chan, who might be the most attractive man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. he’s not overly tall, but what he lacks in height he makes up for in stature. seriously, his arms look like they could crush you easily and you kind of love that. his shoulders are broad, even his thighs are gorgeous. he has dark eyes, wavy dark hair, and plush, pink, cupid’s bow to lips that are formed into a gentle frown. he’s wearing a suit, perfectly tailored around his waist with a matching tie and pocket square complete with a classy leather strapped watch. it’s a stark contrast to the suit the creep is wearing, hanging off of him in some places and too tight in others, grease stain on the lapel. chan leans over you to look at the creep, wrapping his arm respectfully around your waist in the process and you almost drop your drink from surprise. he’s felix’s older brother, so you’ve met chan many times, known him for years, but he’s never touched you like this before. you can’t help the way your heart flutters despite the situation you’re in.

“what the hell are you doing?” the creep says, anger rising as he’s realizing he’s losing control of the situation. you can see in his eyes, the way they go dark and wild in a way that you never want to see a man’s eyes go.

“literally none of your business. leave me and my partner alone,” chan says, calm despite the vein you can see straining in his neck. how is that hot too? you’ve never seen him like this, cold and angry with his eyes on fire. this is so unfair. you’re quite literally blocked between a rock and a hard place here, there’s no escape from this situation.

“your partner? no, prove it, i don’t buy it.” the creep says loudly, getting the attention of the people around you. “you don’t have a partner, bang.”

hyunjin finally walks over, opening his mouth to say something, but you motion for him to wait. you kind of want to see how this plays out, you’re too invested at this point.

“i really don’t think we have to prove anything to you, nam,” chan protests, tightening his grip on your waist. unfortunately for the both of you, the creep keeps going on, insisting that chan doesn’t have a secret partner, there’s no way, so you must be faking it. as if you would choose to go home with him otherwise.

chan looks at you in the eyes, silently asking for your permission to do something, and you nod minutely. you trust him. he leans in, and your breath catches before he presses his lips to yours. they’re softer than you imagined, does he exfoliate? he must exfoliate. you feel like your mind is short-circuiting, stuck on the thought of whether he uses a sugar or a microbead exfoliant on his lips.

you stay there for a moment before he’s reaching up to card his hand through your hair. you gasp, giving him the opportunity to lick into your mouth before he pulls away, mouth wet. you’re stunned, your own mouth hanging open a bit, not registering that the creep had apparently shut up and walked straight out of the bar without paying. you’re pretty sure that was the best first kiss you’ve ever experienced.

“well,” chan says, grinning almost shyly, hand still in your hair, cradling your head almost protectively. “sorry about my coworker, i’m trying to get him fired, so.”

“i can’t say he was a pleasure,” you grin back. “let me know if i can help with that.” he removes his hand from your head, and you miss the presence already. felix walks up to you behind the bar, sidling up to a shocked hyunjin with a smirk.

“hey, channie hyung,” he says, laughing when hyunjin squawks at him. “having fun?”

“yongbokkie. you’re not causing too much trouble here are you?” chan responds, pressing the side of his body against yours a bit when he leans in, causing the skin where he’s touching you to tingle.

“hold on,” hyunjin says, cutting off felix’s response. “channie hyung? yongbokkie? you two know each other?”

“they’re brothers,” you say with a teasing voice as felix rolls his eyes. “both a pain in my ass, usually.”

“he’s my big ceo, pride of the family, older brother.” he ducks when chan reaches to swat him in the head.

“brother? ceo?” hyunjin squeaks, and felix finally takes pity on him and pulls him aside with coaxing words to calm him down, leaving you alone with chan. you give him a look, quirking an eyebrow at him, and he smiled at you nervously. all of his prior suave and charisma is gone, leaving the endearing boy with soft features and kind eyes. the boy you knew and were used to, not the stranger who walked into the bar.

“technically, he’s my half-brother, did you know that? we different last names?“ he says, a little awkwardly, and you gasp in shock. this is new information to you. “but we grew up together, so. i love him, you know?”

“that’s sweet,” you say, turning in your chair to face him fully. “speaking of being sweet, what happened to that badass guy that saved me from that creep? he seems to have left the building.” you dramatically look behind him, making him chuckle under his breath. “i’ve never seen that side of you before.”

“i’m not really like that, i just get a little overprotective sometimes. and i know you’re closer with lix, but i care about you too, and i hate that guy, so it just came out.” he says, leaning in until you can smell his sweet cologne. “plus, it wasn’t like it was a chore to kiss you.” that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you take a sip of your beer to give you a second to school your features into something that wasn’t embarrassing.

“well, we’ve already had a first kiss,” you start, placing your hand on his arm. his suit even feels expensive. “do i get to have a date with the cute australian ceo?”

“that depends,” he says, glancing at his watch. “are you free tonight?” you can tell he’s trying to come off as cool and collected, but a bit of eagerness is peeking through. it’s adorable and you’re just a little bit enamored with him.

“i happen to be completely free,” you smile as you link your hand through his arm, throwing a wave at a beaming felix. you know he’ll just add your drink to your ever-growing tab you’ve accumulated here. “we can talk strategy about how to get your coworker fired.”

“oh, you know me so well,” he says as he walks you out of the bar.

—

masterlist

taglist: @daceyena @isilentprincess @woahfruity @chvnnie @katieraven @agustd-essert @chanssmiles @sweetestcherrywine @foivetimesacharm

#stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x y/n #bang chan x you #chan x y/n #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fic #stray kids x stay #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #chan x you #chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan stray kids #chan stray kids

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

Coquet, Part 6 | JJK

Coquet, Part 6

\ kō-ˈket Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.

✫✫✫Coquet Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: SLOW BURN!; excessive cussing; A LOT of sexual tension; very explicit sexual conversations; vulnerable confessions; fluffy dance class; fluffy conversations; some angst; naked tub-talk; heavy teasing; food play; oral sex (F-receiving); nipple/breast play; protected sex; dirty talk; multiple orgasms; hyperstimulation; STAMINA! (IDC, it's a fic so I can do whatever I want 😂 ); spooning; bed-sharing

Word count: 9.6K+ words (Eeps! Sorrryyyyy)

Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.

A/N: So...I went from 0 to 120...Literally from having no idea to having ALL of the ideas 😂 Also, I did my best to look at ballroom dance videos. Please take it with a grain of salt. It’s meant to be fluffy and angsty! I really went through it with this chapter…literally could not get these two off my mind! I also may or may not have listened to Usher's "Seduction" on repeat. That said, I'll shut up now so you can all get to it. 🍸

Blinking up at the ceiling, you realized you’d fallen asleep. Specks of sunlight peeked into the room–but not so harshly where it aggravated your dull headache. Whoever invented blackout curtains needed to be given a Nobel Prize…stat!

You took a deep breath, but as soon as you released it, panic hit–the horrible inevitability of waking from a blissful dream into a nightmare reality. You had vague memories of the last few hours. The drinks. The dancing. The flirting with random guys. The trip to the ATM machine.

Jungkook…

You turn your head sharply to the other side of the bed to find it empty. The pillow tucked neatly under the sheets.

“Fuck!” You jump out of the bed immediately to find your purse. You hoped to god that he didn’t see all of that cash that you stuffed into your tiny clutch–cash you planned on paying him to have sex with you.

You spot it by the TV, sitting in the tray next to the hotel-standard ice bucket.

You squeeze your eyes shut and gripped your forehead. And it wasn’t just because of the hangover that was finally hitting you.

Did anything happen? You weren’t sure. You had fragments of memories from last night. But while you pondered on those, traces of bile made its way up from your gut, coating your tongue. You run into the bathroom, barely making it, then upchuck into the toilet bowl.

******

Before you hopped into the shower, you texted him. You stood there for a couple of minutes to wait for a response, but it didn’t come. You sighed, figuring that you might hear back from him by the time you were done washing up.

You looked at yourself in the mirror briefly, finally seeing the clothes that you had fallen asleep in. The last thing you remember before blacking out was him laying you on the bed, locked in a passionate kiss. Sometime after that, he may have taken your dress off and wiped your makeup off…even slipped one of his t-shirts on you. You lifted the material up to your nose and took a whiff of it. It smelled just like him.

You suddenly felt immense guilt. You vaguely remember being laser-focused on fucking him after you got back from the club…but you didn’t pace yourself and ended up making impulsive decisions. Maybe he was pissed off that you passed out on him and gave him blue balls?

You had feared the worst but tried to brush the thought aside. Maybe he was just downstairs grabbing coffee or decided to take a walk?

Without you.

Feeling resigned, you decide to step into the shower stall. Perhaps he would be back once you were done.

After a haphazard shower, you stepped out to find that Jungkook still hadn’t texted you back or called. Unlike yesterday, there was no breakfast, nor coffee laid out for you today.

You threw on some sweats and picked up the clothes that you slept in off the bathroom floor and put them in your laundry bag. You could at least leave that for housekeeping later today to wash and give his shirt back to him when it was clean.

Your phone pings with an incoming text. You rushed over to check thinking that it was Jungkook finally responding to your earlier messages.

Nope, it was just Jennie. She wanted to check to make sure that you were alive and still up for dance class today.

Fuuuuck…dance class. You squeezed your eyes shut once more and grimaced.

A follow-up text popped up on her message screen saying that Jungkook was at the coffee shop by himself and when she asked where you were, he said something about letting you sleep in.

You decided that it was better to have that uncomfortable conversation sooner rather than later. One thing you didn’t want was for this relationship with Jungkook to sour when you were so close to the end of your business arrangement.

******

You wander downstairs to the hotel coffee shop, standing by the doorway as you scan the room, searching for him. You recognized a few of the girls and guys from the day before–all nursing the same hangover in their own ways.

“Heyyy,” Jimin greets you with a big smile as he strolls towards you. He looked like he had gotten 10 hours of sleep when in reality, he’d only slept for 2. But your cousin has always been like that ever since you were old enough to drink together. You’d gone on trips to Vegas, New Orleans…even booze cruises to Mexico. He could drink anyone under the table.

“Uh, hey, Chim,” you croaked out, still a bit distracted.

He chuckled. “Oof, you sound just as horrible as you look.”

You give him a deadpan look. “Fuck you very much,” you say dryly.

“At least you smell clean,” he says with a teasing grin.

You roll your eyes at him then see him carrying a paper bag. “Oh, these are for Mindi and Taehyung,” he says, answering your silent question. “Taehyungie asked me to grab him some food. And Mindi couldn’t get out of bed so—I’m trying to be a good big brother and get her something to make her feel better.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you commented.

“Jimin-ah! Why aren’t you dressed yet?” His mom, your Auntie Dahlia remarks as she approaches him.

“Ma, we have like, another hour and a half before we leave. Tyeongie went back to sleep for a bit.”

“Aish…And I can tell from this that you haven’t showered yet,” she says, ignoring his last comment while she ran her fingers through his hair, feeling traces of hair product.

“Eomma, can’t I at least get a medal for being the least hungover of this group?”

“Sweetheart, that is not an achievement to be proud of. Now please, start pulling yourself together and see about getting Mindi up, too. I’m not about to be embarrassed with you all being late to this dance class,” she scolds him.

Jimin turns his face away from her and subtly rolls his eyes.

“How are you, honey?” She turns to you.

“I’m okay, auntie. Thank you for asking,” you smiled tightly.

Before she gets another word in, your mother closes in. “Oh, YN–did you forget to put on your retinol mask before going to bed last night?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at your mother. She had the worst timing, really. “Rosie–you’re not trying to push your beauty routine on YN again, are you?” Your dad remarks as he approaches her from behind.

You smiled warmly at him then furrowed your brows once you got a good look at him. “Dad, you’re looking a little pale. I know you didn’t party with the guys but–are you okay?”

He waves you off. “Oh, I’m fine, honey–”

“He missed a dose of his medicine and felt a little faint earlier,” your mom says with a hint of ‘I- told-you-so’ to her voice.

He sighed. “I took it once I remembered it,” he corrected her. “Besides, I just need to lie down. I needed some orange juice to raise my blood sugar.”

You look at him suspiciously. “Okay but–no more skipping! Do you want me to adjust the reminders on your phone?”

“That’s not necessary, YN. I’ll be fine. I won’t miss it, I promise.” He smiles before giving you a kiss on your temple before he walks off with your mother.

“Jimin-ah!” Auntie Dahlia says, giving Jimin a stern look–she did not need to repeat herself.

“Yes, eomma,” he says, sighing in exasperation after she walks away.

“So…you’re joining us for dance class?” You ask him.

He nods. “I’ve been drafted. Haru was supposed to partner up with Mindi but since he didn’t get in until half an hour ago, eomma figured he’d be useless so she asked me to do it. The instructor is a friend of hers from her swing-dance classes.”

“Oh…okay then. Listen, have you seen uh—“

“Yeah,” he cuts you off. “He’s at a corner table by the back room.”

You nodded, thanking him before he walked off.

******

You round the corner into the back room and found him just where Jimin said he was at. He was on his phone, mumbling into it. He lifted his eyes briefly, saw you walking towards him and rushed to sign off.

As soon as you reach him, he hangs up and puts his phone down, clicking the button to lock the screen.

You sit down opposite him and a server immediately approaches you, handing you a menu. Before they walk off, you quickly request for a pot of coffee and a glass of water.

When you turn your attention back to him, he’s scrolling through his phone again.

“Did you sleep well last night?” He asks absentmindedly without looking at you.

“Uh…yeah. A-and you?” You ask meekly.

He sighed heavily. “Somewhat. I don’t need much sleep anyway,” he says in a clipped tone.

After a long period of silence, you decided to get straight to the point.

“So…last night. Did…did anything happen, you know…between us?”

“If you’re wondering if we had sex, the answer is ‘no’,” he says contritely.

He was incensed…understandably so. You reeled him in with the promise of sex, only to leave him hanging. What kind of guy did you expect to be completely fine with that?

You blew out a breath.

“You seem relieved,” he points out sarcastically.

“N-no, that’s not…no.” You protest quietly. He shrugged. “Sure sounds like it.”

“A-are you upset with me?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle, finally peeling his eyes away from his phone screen to look at you. “Now why would I be upset?”

“Look…” you lowered your voice and looked around briefly before continuing. “I know you saw the money. I want to explain—“

“That’s not necessary. Nothing happened! No harm done,” he says icily before turning back to his phone.

“You say that but your face and tone tells me otherwise. Have I offended you?”

His nostrils flare, trying to rein in his annoyance before looking back at you again.

“Why would I be offended? You paid for me to come out here and pretend to be your adoring boyfriend. I did tell you that anything more intimate than kissing was extra and you did just that. It’s all part of the package,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

His words stung you. When you begged him to kiss you last night, he seemed eager to waive that fee. It was as if he wanted to kiss and touch you out of his own volition. Business arrangement, notwithstanding.

“Is that so? Whatever happened to ‘I’ll bill you later?’” You say, throwing last night’s remark back at him.

His eyebrows lift. “Ah, so you do remember last night.”

“I only…only remember fragments,” you say honestly. You don’t remember what else you said or did to or with him.

The context was too hazy for you and you wished you hadn’t drank that much. Then again, if you hadn’t taken in that much alcohol, would you still have come on to him like that?

He chuckled bitterly. “Well isn’t that incredibly convenient? Do you also remember deliberately withdrawing the money to pay for sex last night? Or was that part of your missing memory, too?”

You gasped at his comment but stopped short when the server returned with your coffee and water. They asked if you were ready to order but asked them for a few more minutes to decide.

You turn your attention back to Jungkook, who was now glaring at you.

You glowered back at him. “Well, excuse me for trying to be considerate! I only did that because…because I didn’t want you to think that I was expecting anything for free. Or…that I was expecting anything at all,” you spit out.

He scoffed. “Then it’s a good thing that nothing happened. You get to keep your money,” he seethed.

“Okay, so what if I did actually intend to have sex with you? What was the proper way to go about it? You said that it was an option but you never clarified the terms! Should we have shaken hands or signed a contract addendum? Should I have given you the money upfront before anything happened?” you bit out.

He rolled his eyes and leaned in. “I told you…sometimes it’s not always about the money.”

“If that’s the case then what are you so butthurt about?” You whispered harshly.

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek. He wished that he could hide his disappointment but it was written all over his face. He was upset. Upset that you didn’t take him for the real thing. Upset you still saw him as nothing more than a service that you paid for.

“I’m not butthurt about anything,” he lied through his teeth. “Let’s just drop it, okay?” He says dismissively.

The server returns and you place your order. He sat while you devoured your breakfast before trudging back to your room to get ready for dance class.

You pass each other in the room while you get dressed without saying a word—fully intent on keeping a safe distance.

You were incredibly annoyed at him for being pissed at you because of some confusing yet unclear reason. After all that, you still had to spend the morning with your bodies pressed together.

Just fucking perfect.

******

You and Jungkook sat in different seats in the shuttle on the way to the dance studio. Your talk during breakfast resulted in a stalemate–which you’d have to endure further here.

“Hey man,” Taehyung approached Jungkook, who was standing in one corner while you stood chattering with Mindi and Jennie.

“Hey–are you feeling better?” He asked.

“I’ve, uh…had better days.” Taehyung chuckled. “Jennie got a little mad at me this morning but after I told her that you helped me get back, she felt better about it.” Jungkook nodded.

“Also, just to let you know, I don’t normally drink that much. You can even ask YN–I’m a lightweight.”

“Then why would you let Haru keep forcing you to drink?”

Taehyung lifted a shoulder and twisted his mouth. “Haru has always said I’m too nice for my own good,” he says wryly. “Plus, I feel like he might have been acting out, I don’t know. I was just trying to be a good friend.”

“He should be lucky to have you on his side,” Jungkook comments.

“Speaking of luck, I just wanted to thank you again for getting me back safely. I’m glad that you were there.”

“It was nothing–it was the right thing to do,” Jungkook says gently.

“Well, I will say, my sister is lucky to have found you. With a guy like you? I don’t need to worry about her because I’m confident she’s in great hands.” He gives Jungkook's shoulder a firm squeeze before the teacher finally walks in to greet them.

He stands there, looking at you from across the room. His face softens as soon as realizes his fuckup. This was a collapse in your communication and he reacted emotionally. He lost his grip on logic there for a moment because…well, it was because of you. Each hour he spent talking to you, holding and kissing you–that grip kept loosening further.

He wanted to fix things. And even though he was still holding back, he wanted to know…had to know…if you felt the same.

******

“The wedding dance is an important dance in a couple’s life. A room full of family and friends…watching, smiling, taking bets as to how long the union will last. But remember–all you’ll have is each other and whatever skills you acquire here today.” The dance instructor then clasps their hands together and tells everyone to pair off.

You so badly wanted to walk towards Jimin but he was already getting into a hold with Mindi. You glower at Jungkook, who stretches out his hand unenthusiastically at you. You take it limply.

“Now, make sure you are pressed against each other–a little closer, dear,” she says as she pushes Mindi and Jimin together.

“Oh, god–I’m having war flashbacks from my junior prom,” Mindi groans.

“Dude, shut up! You could have just stayed at the hotel, you know–since Haru couldn’t drag his ass out of bed,” Jimin argues.

They bicker some more and only stop when the teacher tells them that she would tell their mother on them.

The teacher now moves over to you and Jungkook, pushing your hips closer together. You stiffen, almost trying to resist her–but you underestimate her size and strength. Eventually, she closes the gap between you.

“So, we’re doing a basic foxtrot. Nothing too crazy but I know Taehyungie wanted to try something unique for the wedding.”

Jennie was ecstatic–she definitely got her beauty sleep last night.

“Now, the men will lead with their left foot stepping forward, women will step back with their right, followed by two side steps. I’ll demonstrate.”

The teacher does it slowly while you all watch her reflection in the mirror. You go for a few tries–slowly at first until you all pick it up.

“The next step is the corner step. Now this is a really great element that we're going to use to one: change direction, and two: to help us avoid obstacles out on the dance floor, whether it may be other couples around us, or to just get us back to facing the direction we need to be traveling.”

She does a demonstration for the men and the steps for the women.

Jungkook releases his hold on you which was perfect timing since your palms were getting sweaty. You look away from him while you shake them off. When you look back, you see him typing a quick message into his phone before putting it away and returning to hold you again.

“Your mind is somewhere else.”

“It was but it’s back here now,” he deadpans.

“If you don’t want to be here, just say so,” you whispered harshly.

He cocked an eyebrow at you. ”I never said anything like that,” he mumbled.

“Okay, well can you at least pretend like you want to be here with me?” You glared at him.

“Who says I’m pretending?”

Before you could answer, the teacher announced that you’d try the routine with music. She pushed a button on her controller, assuming it was for her sound system. The music swells with a track that you know only Taehyung would have picked.

You let out a huff as soon as Bobby Darin’s voice fills the room.

Call me irresponsible

Call me unreliable

The teacher begins the count to set the pace. “Now slow, slow, quick-quick…slow, slow, quick-quick.”

Throw in undependable too

Do my foolish alibis

Bother you

You glanced at Jimin and Mindi, who glided past you. Jimin twirled his sister around, breaking their hold for a moment before Mindi turns out and does a little arabesque. So much for being hungover.

Well I'm not too clever

I just adore you

Jungkook is reluctant to move and you look up at him. “What’s wrong, Jungkook? Two left feet?“ You say smugly. Thankfully, Auntie Dahlia had taken you, along with her children, to a couple of these classes when you were teenagers. You knew some of the basic steps so wouldn't be completely embarrassed.

Go on and call me unpredictable

Tell me that I'm impractical

His face visibly relaxed but narrows his eyes at your challenging tone. He flashed a smirk before propelling forward. You stumble a little at first but you regain your composure as he guides you through the floor.

Rainbows I'm inclined to pursue

You cover the entire room, gliding from wall to wall. Whirling and turning in time to the music. It’s effortless. Of course he can dance, you thought wryly.

You glide past Taehyung and Jennie, who was giggling as she watched both of you navigate the floor with ease.

You go ahead call irresponsible

I admit I'm unreliable

But it is undeniably true

You gasped as Jungkook takes you by surprise, picking you up off your feet to twirl you. Your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, as a lifted dancer would know. You couldn’t help but grin.

As the music winds down, he spins you one last time before finishing with a slow dip.

That I'm irresponsibly mad for you

The teacher is elated at everyone making her job easier. She then turns to Taehyung and Jennie to work more closely with them, seeing as the other couples didn’t need it.

When Jungkook pulled you back upright, you were practically nose to nose. Once you were hyper-aware of the closeness, you release each other. You uncomfortably shift, chewing at your bottom lip. You were pissed before but now you weren’t. You peered up at him and found him rubbing his earlobe. It looked like a nervous tick. You wanted to break the ice.

“Hey, I'm—“

“Listen, I—“

It seems that you both had the same thing in mind. But before either of you could speak again, Mindi interrupts.

“Unnie…can we please switch partners? Jimin-oppa is so annoying!” She stomps her feet petulantly.

“Excuse me? How ‘bout, a thank you, oppa—for not leaving me hanging because my intended asshole of a partner decided to be selfish…yet again…”

Mindi rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine thank-you, oppa!” She says sarcastically. “Now please…would you mind if we switch just this once?” She grimaces.

“Uh…if Jungkook is fine with it, I’m good,” you say carefully.

His eyebrows knit. “So, you’re just going to push me into the arms of another woman?” he says in a lighter, teasing tone.

“Just giving you some time to miss me, that’s all,” you smiled over your shoulder before walking over to Jimin.

He chuckled as he got into hold with Mindi.

“Oh and Mindi-yah—“

“Yes, unnie?” She says excitedly.

“Can you please do me a favor and not look like you’re enjoying this too much? I’ll take him back in a heartbeat,” you say with a playful warning tone to her as Jimin stifles a laugh.

You and Jungkook exchange looks, smiling at each other. Whatever you had fought about was out the window but you knew that you still felt the need to talk about it. He did say that you both needed to stay honest with each other to make this arrangement work. And you wanted to…in more ways than one.

******

After you got back from dance class Jennie and Mindi wanted to hang out a bit and talk about wedding rehearsals tomorrow. Your mother also wanted to talk through some ideas with Jennie. She asked you to be there as a cushion–and to remind her that Jennie is the bride.

You didn’t get to talk much with Jungkook on the ride back and up until you got back to the hotel. The beach party was well underway. The staff put on a great spread, had a couple of bonfires going.

“YN?”

“Jennie, hey,” you smiled at her.

“Hey, thanks again for joining me and Tae earlier. That was so much fun!”

“Of course! It took me a while to brush up on the ballroom dancing basics but, I think we managed,” you smiled.

“Also, I can’t find Jungkook but I keep forgetting to personally thank him for bringing Taehyung back in one piece. I could fucking kill Haru for what he did,” she seethed.

She glowered at a distance where he stood mingling with his parents, still looking disheveled as he finally emerged from his room to join the festivities. You followed her line of sight to see that he was wearing sunglasses–after the sun had already set. His hangover must be hitting him hard.

You both turn to each other again, chuckling after you find each other rolling your eyes in unison.

“Seriously, though–please tell Jungkook that I’m very grateful to him.”

“Well, that’s…my man,” you smiled softly.

“You found a good one,” she says to you quietly. “Hang onto him.”

Your heart squeezes. You really needed to talk to Jungkook…and soon. You had to settle some things for your own peace of mind. All of these mixed signals or miscues–you needed some clarity.

“Before I forget…I’ve been thinking about last night and…I just felt bad about how I talked to you before our night ended. I want to tell you how sorry I am for being too snappy at you. I clearly should not be drinking too much,” she chuckled nervously. “I just get a little testy,” Jennie says apologetically.

You tilt your head to the side and softened your expression. “Oh, babe–if anything, I’m sorry for being a Debbie-downer by lingering on past drama. It was your night. I’m sorry if I messed things up,” you tell her.

She took a deep breath, took your hand and squeezed it. “Babe, you could never mess things up. You’ve been such a great friend to me.” There was something in her sad smile that made your brow furrow but you thought nothing of it.

Seconds later, you are pulled away by a couple of aunts who say that you have kept them waiting too long to talk about the new man in your life. You and Jennie shared a brief hug before she walked over to entertain her family.

******

Even though you and Jungkook were apart for the rest of the afternoon, you found ways to steal glances from each other. You’ve decided within you that you’d give yourself another 5 minutes in this conversation before you slip away and get him alone. You subtly set a timer on your phone and continue on with the conversation.

When your timer goes off, you excuse yourself, saying that you had to take a call. Once you turn around he was already there waiting behind you.

“Hey, mind if we talk?”

“Yeah. I was just going to come and find you. Do you want to sit over here?” You gestured at an ornately assembled log bench a few feet away, made from found fallen trees and recycled wood. It looked like a piece of art in itself.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize for being a dick this morning.” He says immediately when you both sit.

“Jungkook–”

“No, please…let me finish,” he pleads. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation last night. I knew that you were drunk and–things got a little out of hand. I should have known better,” he explains.

He looks into your eyes in all sincerity. “Just so you know, that’s not something that I do. I’m not like that. If…if you ever wanted to do anything…intimate, I want you to be clear-headed and able to consent. And most of all, to remember that it happened.”

“I’m really sorry for passing out,” you lamented.

“That was out of your control,” he says understandingly.

“And the money–”

“Look…the money,” he sighed. “You were right this morning. I should have explained things and should have been more clear about it…you know, if that was your intention. We should have talked about it beforehand.”

He looks at you. He didn’t have a cold, distant look in his eyes–unlike this morning. He looked earnest and open to you.

You nodded. “I…I don’t know. I was making assumptions and I shouldn’t have.”

That piqued his curiosity. “Assumptions?”

“Y-yeah,” you took a deep, awkward breath and released it. Might as well show some honesty now, you thought. Assumptions and mixed signals wouldn’t get you far.

“I somehow had it in my head that…everything that you were doing meant something more,” you finally say, looking away.

He caught his lower lip with his teeth, fidgeting with his lip piercing. He swallows hard, feeling a pang of guilt. You were being honest to him and he owed you that much.

He gave you a small smile. “You know, I really enjoyed getting to know you this week. I feel this connection with you that–I haven’t felt with…others.”

And just like that, you had officially veered into a gray area. He was fully aware and finally acknowledged it within himself. It wouldn’t do him any good to lie his way through this conversation–not with you.

“I feel like this whole week, you’ve been learning so much about me. Too much, I’m afraid. And I realized that I haven’t really asked much about you.”

“My normal life is pretty boring, to be honest,” he says wryly. You chuckled at that. “I’d still like to know.” You gave him a look of reassurance.

He smiled nervously, taking a deep breath. He had never divulged much about his real life to his clients. It would burst the fantasy bubble.

You coax him further. “Come on, tell me about yourself. Do you have, like, an interesting birthmark? Maybe, a childhood pet that you wish you could clone? Or…a weird quirk?”

He cleared his throat and paused for a beat before speaking. “I’m very sensitive to smells. I have three diffusers in my room and five air purifiers around my place. I work so much that my only best friend in the world is my parents’ dog, Gureum. I also have a scar on my cheek that I got after fighting with my cousin over a video game.”

You listened intently, finding his candidness endearing.

“Also, I can’t measure a mattress to save my life. Once, I bought the wrong size for my bed and I was too lazy to call the store to take it back, so I just cut it.”

“You…cut it? How? With what?” You ask curiously.

“Scissors!” He says it so plainly as if it was the only sensible tool.

“Scissors.” You repeated incredulously.

“Uh-huh!” He says smugly.

You look away for a moment, brows furrowing deeply at his ‘quirk’. Then you look back at him and begin to laugh hysterically at the thought of him actually cutting a mattress with scissors.

He nodded. “Yep. And it worked. I finally got to push my bed against the wall.”

You threw your head back and continued to guffaw. Watching you fall in absolute stitches tickles him and he starts to laugh along with you.

In the midst of your howling, you lose your balance and almost fall over but he catches you. As he holds you close to him, he feels your laughs reverberate through his chest, flowing through the depths of him. All of his worries and doubts fade away at the sound of that belly-laugh that he found so appealing early on. It was a sign of reassurance for him. He grabs on to the feeling, vowing to hold on to it for as long as he was able to.

Gasping for air, you start to calm down. “Wow–that–wow…I don’t even know what to say to that,” you giggled, wiping the tears that have pooled in your eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a dork, I know.”

“That’s not what I pictured at all. You just seem like the coolest person in the room.”

“Key word being ‘seem,’” he points out.

You nodded and sighed. “Well, that was fun. Now, I want to head back upstairs.”

“Oh. Are you getting tired?” He asks.

“Not really, but I just feel like lazing around for the rest of the night. Maybe use that jacuzzi in the room for once,” you say casually as you start to walk away from him. “You can stay down here if you want, though.”

He raises an eyebrow at the thought, staying rooted to the spot for a few seconds. You were steps away from the main courtyard when he called your name. You turn around to see him jogging towards you.

“Changed your mind?”

“Yeah. I prefer to keep you company,” he uttered.

You smiled warmly at him before continuing to walk indoors and towards the elevators. “Okay. And just so you know, I plan on ordering room service. I want something fried and something sweet.”

“Sounds good to me,“ he says while he puts his arm around you.

******

After calling in your room service order, he offers to draw up the bath for you–bubbles and all. You changed out of your clothes while he watched the tub fill with water. After a few minutes, you walk in wearing a bathrobe, glanced at the tub, dipped your fingers in to check the temperature. It was hot enough to feel comfortable so you gave him your stamp of approval.

He gets up and begins to walk away to leave you in peace but you call out to him instead

“Aren’t you going to join me?”

You had a plan. Well, not really ‘a plan,’ but you wanted to try something.

He chuckled softly. “Do I have to wear a swimsuit if I get in?”

“No,” you say simply.

He raises an eyebrow, a gleam in his eyes. “Hold up–what happened to the YN who couldn’t even handle seeing my bare ass when I stepped into the shower last time?”

You laughed then shrugged your shoulders. “Let’s just say we’re past the awkward stage now.”

“Are you wearing a swimsuit?” He asks.

You scoffed then followed it with a chuckle. “Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous,” you say as you start to undo the robe’s sash.

His eyes widen then he quickly turns away right before the sides open. You shrug it off and hang it over by the hook on the wall then carefully step into the tub.

You started to giggle. “Now who’s being awkward?”

“I just–want to respect your boundaries, that’s all,” he reasons, eyes still shut.

“And you are,” you affirm. “I respect your boundaries, too. You can join me, only if you want to, but I also wouldn’t be mad if you won’t. I just wanted to relax. I figured you could use it, too.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure where this would lead but you were taking a chance. You decided to roll with it.

You reached over towards the center of the tub that contained a small control panel, set a timer, then pushed the button to switch the jets on. You lean back against the tub and let your body sink further into the water. The bubbles, sticking to your chest and shoulders. You sighed and closed your eyes, not waiting for his response as the vibrations started to soothe your tired muscles.

Within a few seconds, you hear water sloshing and feel him settling opposite you, his foot grazing your calf when he steps in. When you open your eyes, his back is already leaning against the tub. His left knee is raised above the water, careful not to extend it too far towards you. His right leg, the one farthest away from you is stretched out against the side closest to the wall.

You smile at him and he gives you a smile back. “Happy?”

You chuckled softly then released a contented sigh. “At the moment, yes.”

You stared at each other silently while the tub jets continued to rumble around you, splashing water droplets around.

“Now that you’re here, can I ask you some more questions,” you finally say.

He laughs, pulling his hands out of the water and running his fingers through his hair, brushing it back. That view never gets old.

“Is that why you wanted to get me naked? Because you wanted to interrogate me some more?”

“You can always say ‘no’ to tub-talk.” You see a cloud of bubbles building up in front of you so you puffed out your cheeks and blew them towards him.

He laughs and dips his hand in the water again and splashes a little bit on you. “Fine. Hit me with more questions,” he relents.

“And you’ll still answer honestly?” You ask him pointedly.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Because if you don’t, my foot is in really close proximity to your crotch so–”

He started laughing, “Let’s not get all violent now, shall we?” He says, unconsciously cupping himself in case you tried anything.

“I kid, I kid,” you say in between giggles. If you were going to be honest, you had other ideas for his crotch…ones that involved you being on your knees–but now’s not the time for that yet. Keep it together, YN!

You took a deep breath. After a brief pause, you ask, “Have you ever had an instance where your relationship with your client has gone past…I don’t know, outside of the agreed-upon business terms?”

“What, like a breach of contract?” He clarified.

You laughed softly. Your professional brain was jumping way ahead of you. “Mm…Like, if a client paid for an evening, have you ever—spent time with them outside of that timeframe?”

He scoffs then stretches his arms wide, resting them on the tub’s rim. You tried not to get too distracted by his muscles and his tattoos. “Why don’t you just be straight with me and ask me if I’ve ever dated a client before.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was only trying to finesse—“

“I thought we were past the whole awkward stage?”

You paused, staring into his eyes. You had to give him that. “Okay. So, have you dated a client before?” You asked directly.

“No, never,” he says.

“Would you ever date a client?” You followed up.

He regarded you intently. Even though you sounded direct, you were still trying to dance around your point. Before you booked him, you were uncomfortable with the idea of a boyfriend-for-hire. You were even more appalled at the thought of paying him--a stranger--to sleep with you. And you almost crossed that bridge. Almost.

As the week winds down and your time with him is about to come to an end, you decide to get to know him better. As bizarre as this experience started out for you, you were finally becoming comfortable with the idea of him being around and…just spending time with him.

“Just to be clear–after our arrangement, there won’t be any more clients to speak of. Like I said before, this will be my final booking…ever.”

You looked at him skeptically.

“What? You find the idea of me quitting the business hard to believe?”

“No, I find it harder to believe that you’ve never dated a client before. I feel like you flirt so much. It’s almost pathological for you,” you laughed.

He shrugged. “I’m just playing a part–like an actor.”

“And…you’ve slept with clients before?”

“Yes, I have. Not a lot, but I have.”

You tried not to look disappointed–but you appreciated that he didn’t try to lie about it.

“Does that bother you?” He asks quietly.

“A little, but only because I’m unfamiliar with what your business entails. It’s all part of the package, right? If it’s on the menu, what’s stopping them from trying it?”

“You could say that.” He shifted his position on the tub but kept his eyes on you. “But I will say–I don’t just sleep with my clients. I don’t offer that option to everyone. I have to feel some attraction when I first meet them–at least have some sort of connection.” His gaze becomes more intense as you let this information sink in.

Your brows furrowed. Looking away from him briefly, the wheels started to turn in your head. Since he offered you the option, that meant…

Gasping softly, your eyes flicker, seeing a ghost of a smile play at his lips, once you worked it out. It hit you like a ton of bricks but you didn’t want to be completely presumptive. You shifted in the water, unknowingly pressing your thighs together. He turns his head away for a moment and covers his mouth with his hand.

The water’s temperature was starting to drop and the peaks of bubbles were slowly deflating, leaving gaps where you could see through the water.

This wasn’t what you had in mind when you asked him to take a bath with you.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “I have…a few more questions. If you could just humor me?” So far, he’s been pretty open tonight. Allowing you into his world little by little. You were toeing the line, sure–and you were trying to find out at what point he’d stop you.

He chuckled. “Alright.”

It was your cue to push in. “Let’s say a client wanted to have sex with you...”

His jaw squared for a second but his lips eventually curved into a smile. “Okay.”

“You would charge an extra fee on top of your normal rate, right?”

“Right.”

“Is that a flat rate or…are there particular things you’d do for a certain amount? Like, is there a menu of services that you cover?” It sounded silly after you heard it spill out of your mouth. But you were genuinely curious…for a number of reasons that you weren’t ready to disclose to him yet.

“I do tiers,” he replies smoothly.

Your eyebrows lift. “Tiers?”

What was this, a cellphone data plan? A country club membership?

He nods. “Yep.”

“Explain.”

“It sounds stupid but it’s just like first, second, and third base. Some don’t want to go all the way–they just want a little taste, and I try to be respectful of that.”

“So–you don’t even get to…finish?” You ask uncomfortably.

He laughs. “It’s not about me,” he explains. “The mistake most men make is to get it on so they can get off. But once I changed my perspective where I want to pleasure a woman because I want to get her off, then that’s pleasure for me. Whatever she wants to do to me in return–that’s just icing on the cake.”

Your cheeks heat up, stomach doing backflips but you still try your best to keep your cool. “That makes sense,” you managed to say. “So…what next?”

He cleared his throat. “After we’ve set terms, both of us consent, the money is exchanged…and then we get right into it,” he says candidly. He sounds disconnected from it all–completely opposite from what he said about needing to feel some connection before he slept with a client.

Then again, he hasn’t taken on anybody else for…however long, before accepting your booking. Maybe that’s why he sounded so blasé about it.

“How do you start? Do you just make-out, or…”

“Nah, ‘making out’ is too pedestrian. You can do that with anyone,” he says flippantly before licking his lips then lowering his voice. “The key here is seduction,” he says slowly.

Your chest rose noticeably as you took in a shaky breath. If your hands weren’t underwater, your palms would be sweaty as hell right about now.

“We’d talk first. I ask them questions…find out what they like…what makes them feel good.”

“Is there usually alcohol involved?”

“Very little, if any. Maybe just to calm some nerves but I try to settle that just by having a nice conversation first,” he explains. “I want to maintain the connection, if I can help it. Too much alcohol just dulls it.”

“Sounds like you like being in control,” you said.

He scoffed. “It might seem like that. But in reality–I’m giving up all control…to them.”

Your eyes blinked furiously. “Or–in this case, I’d give up control to you,” he corrects himself. “Make sense?”

“Y-yes,” you say breathlessly.

He stared at you a minute then nodded before he switched tact. “Now, I’d like to ask you something. I think that’s only fair, right?”

“Of course,” you agreed.

He tilted his head to one side and eyes narrowing slightly. His gaze boring holes through your soul. “Would you like me to seduce you now?”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, the timer runs out on the jets and they automatically shut off. You could practically hear a pin drop, save for your breaths echoing against the marble walls.

More bubbles have dissipated in the space between you two. If either of you had craned your necks further up, you would see all of each other.

You moistened your dry lips before responding. “I think that’s a bit of a foregone conclusion at this point, don’t you think?”

“So if it is, then–what else do I need to say or do to get you to sleep with me? Should I get on my knees and beg?” Just then you felt his fingers reach for your ankle, tracing subtle circles on it.

He bit at his bottom lip. Your gaze was locked to his, unable to look away. At that moment, you realized that you owned him and that he would do anything you wanted him to. And he knew it within himself, too.

A loud knocking at the door breaks the tension. You look away, suddenly remembering that you ordered room service.

“I’ve got it,” you remark coolly, reluctantly pulling your ankle away from him and bracing yourself to stand.

Before he could say a word, you stood up from the tub. He watched the water cascade down your body. He might have been in shock but you paid no attention to it.

As you begin to step out, he holds out a hand wordlessly to help you balance your weight so you don’t slip.

“Thanks,” you mouth at him. You take your robe from the hook on the wall. His eyes carefully watched as you slipped it on, pulling the sash tightly to close it. Maybe it was just you but you could have sworn that he had the slightest look of disappointment after you had done that.

You instructed the server to leave the cart, tipped them, and sent them on their way. You lifted one of the domed covers and picked up a fry and nibbled on it. There were slices of cake and some chocolate-covered strawberries in there as well.

While you assess each snack that you ordered, you see him emerge from the bathroom out of the corner of your eye. He had a towel wrapped around his waist which made the sizeable bulge that he had underneath it more inviting.

In those few brief minutes that you stepped away, the tension built up in seconds–and it felt much thicker than it did back in the bathroom.

Your eyes lifted as he sauntered towards you. “Hungry?” You ask him nonchalantly as you eyed one of the cakes.

“Not for food,” he says plainly as he closes in on you.

Your cheeks heated up, desire roiled from beneath your belly, pooling between your thighs. You had to commend yourself for all of the control you’ve managed to maintain, instead of just mindlessly throwing yourself at him.

He stops right next to you, you could see in his eyes that he was doing his best to hold himself back as well.

Your eyes shifted at the slice of chocolate cake drizzled with some red, berry reduction on top and around the plate. “You like chocolate?”

“If it was smeared all over your body, yes.” There was a dangerous purr to his voice that sent a shiver through you. You caught a whiff of something that made your mouth water and the apex of your thighs ache. Cologne? Toothpaste? Sweat? Whatever it was–it smelled fucking good.

He closed in further, moving slightly behind you. You dipped your finger at the frosting, capturing a dollop.

“You know I’m fully aware that you’re still naked underneath, right?”

“Yes,” you say simply as you turn your head to him, bringing your finger up to your mouth and licking it.

He narrowed his eyes at you, letting out a soft growl at your teasing.

“Oh, did you want some?” You stuck your finger into the frosting again and held it out to him. His hand curls around your wrist as he brings your hand close to his mouth, licking and sucking on your finger.

Guess two can play that game.

Once he releases it, he pushes your hand back to you.

“Do you want some more?” You ask him evenly despite the fact that your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“You know what I want.” His voice was deeper, rougher. Lowering his head, Jungkook dragged his lips into the crook of your neck, tracing the throbbing vein in your throat.

“I know you want it, too,” he breathes into your ear. You melted into him, your body going lax as he pulled you close.

He lifted his head, regarding you intently. You returned his gaze–his eyes were overly bright yet pitch black at the same time. Being so close, the raw masculinity he exuded made your pulse erratic.

His last thread of control snaps. “Please,” he purred. “Just put me out of my misery.” He sounded needy–at this point, he didn’t give a shit if you made him get on his knees just so he could get a taste.

His words alone were enough to summon pornographic images you neither approved of nor realized existed within you–images of you bent over the table, pressed up against a wall or on your knees.

Before he could get another word in, you seal your lips over his to shut him up with a lush kiss. Your hands went to his hair, sliding through it, tugging. You arched your back when he tightened his arms around you.

Just as he had the night before, he had you on your back on the bed before you realized he was moving you. The robe gave way to his deft fingers, then he was cupping your breasts, kneading them with soft, rhythmic squeezes.

“Jungkook–”

He sucked on your lower lip, his fingers rolling and tugging your tender nipples.

“Oh my goood…” His mouth surrounded the tip of your breast, the wash of heat making you break into a sweat.

“I want to make you feel good. Tell me what you like,” he breathes out.

“You’re doing just that,” you whine.

He chuckles softly before darting the tip of his tongue at a hardened bud, making you squirm.

“Come on…tell me. I want to know,” he insists.

You’ve never been very vocal about what you wanted your partner to do to get you off. Whatever felt good, you guessed–as long as you reached an orgasm. But Jungkook was giving you the chance to tell him what you wanted and how you wanted it done.

“I want you…to eat me out,” you cringed as the words escaped your lips.

“Okay,” he smiled while he hovered above you. “How do you like it?”

You looked at him like an idiot. But you thought about how you got yourself off–guaranteed to make you see stars once your orgasm ripped through you.

“Licking, sucking–some fingers,” you reply.

“Alright then,” was all he said before he slid down

One of his hands pushed between your legs. They fell open shamelessly, your body so aroused you were almost feverish. His other hand continued to knead your breasts, making them unbearably sensitive.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his gaze sliding down your body to where he was parting you with his fingers.

He slid one finger carefully into you. Your eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked for him.

“You’re so tight.” He pulled out and thrust gently back into you. Your back bowed as you clenched around him. “So greedy.” He dipped his head lower and started to tease your clit with the tip of his tongue.

You gasped audibly. “Sorry…it’s…it’s been a while,” you said embarrassingly.

“What did I say about saying ‘sorry?’” He pulled out and pushed back into you with two fingers, his lips sucking on the swollen bud. You couldn’t hold back a low, breathy moan. The man was exceptionally good with his hands and his tongue.

“Is that good? You like that?”

“Fuck, Jungkook…yes.” You were panting for him, your hips circling shamelessly onto his thrusting fingers, to which he had added a third one while his mouth wrapped around your pussy, humming into it. You felt as if you’d spontaneously combust if he didn’t get you off.

“I want to feel you,” you whined. “Please…”

“I know I said I wanted you to tell me what you want but…now, I just really want to make you cum now, just like this.” You’d never been so turned on in your life. You were near mindless, writhing with the need for an orgasm. Your nails dug deeply into his shoulder blades while your thighs tensed.

He was breathing hard, too. His face was flushed with lust…for you. And to think that you’d practically done nothing more than respond helplessly to him.

“I-I’m close.” You didn’t recognize your own voice as your walls rippled around his stroking fingers and fluttering tongue, his words pushing you to the brink.

“I’ve got you.” The pad of his thumb swiped and rubbed your clit in gentle, rhythmic circles. “I want to see your eyes when you cum for me.”

Everything tightened within you, the tension building as he massaged your clit and pushed his fingers in and out at a steady pace.

You climaxed with a throaty cry. You struggled to keep your eyes open while your face screwed up in pure arousal. The whites of your knuckles were evident as you gripped the sheets, your hips pumping onto his hand shamelessly, prolonging your orgasm.

Your ears rang as pleasure pulsed through you. You thought you heard him speak, but you lost the words when he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder and covered your slick heat with his mouth once more.

“Wait—” you pushed at his head with your hands. You were too sensitive. But when his tongue licked your clit, fluttering over it, the hunger built again. More intense than the first time. He rimmed your opening, teasing, taunting with the promise of another orgasm.

He licked between your folds, dragging his tongue against your sensitive flesh. Your hands fisted at his hair, chest heaving as teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. You keened, hips moving restlessly into his relentless mouth, muscles tightening once more.

He finished with a tenderness that made your second orgasm roll through you like a crashing wave, swelling and washing over you in a rush of pleasure.

While you were in a post-orgasmic haze, he rose. You hear a distant sound of a foil packet ripping. When you come to, he threads his fingers with yours, stretching them above your head.

The tip of his cock aligned with the slick entrance of your body and as he pushed deliciously into you. You moaned, shifting to accommodate him while he settled between your thighs.

His breath was humid against your throat, his frame trembled slightly as he withdrew himself carefully then thrusting once more inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pushing him deeper, feeling his ass flex and release against your calves as your body took him to the hilt.

With your hands linked, he took your mouth and began to move, gliding in and out. You felt every hard inch of him. He drove the message home repeatedly until you were gasping against his mouth, thrashing beneath him, your hands almost suffering from the loss of circulation by how hard you gripped him.

“You’re so beautiful…so perfect, so good…” He groaned.

“Please, don’t stop,” you gasped as another climax built up within you.

“I don’t think I can. Want you…too much,” he says.

You came with a sharp, trembling cry, and he was right there with you. His pace quickened for several deep thrusts, then came…grunting your name while he spilled into you.

You sank into the mattress, sweaty and completely spent. You roll to your side briefly before gathering the strength to sit up. As you blink away the stars in your eyes, you find him dipping into the bed next to you once more.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“I was…going to get cleaned up,” you replied.

With a glint in his eye, he chuckled mischievously. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” He whispers, after he discarded the used condom, pulling out a fresh one.

Biting your lip, he pushes his body onto you, sealing his mouth to yours–as if he could eat you alive.

At some point in between, you ate the food that you ordered as both of you were famished. But the break didn’t last long when you finally got to the chocolate cake. He ate some of it off you, you ate some of it off him.

You don’t remember how many more times he made you cum or where. On the bed, on the couch, the table, once more in the shower.

Each and every time, he was relentless and you were all too happy to take it. Under normal circumstances, you’d be completely exhausted and insist on sleeping.

But who needed sleep when you could spend your waking hours enjoying the company of this pleasure-god all night long?

It was daylight by the time you finally decided that both your needs were sated. You tossed the pillows that you had propped up between you a couple nights before and fell asleep, bodies still entangled. He spooned you from behind, placing feather-soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

Seconds before you drift off, you could have sworn that you heard him mumble in your ear…something about wanting to take care of you. Subconsciously, you wished that you hadn’t been so tired. All you could do was hum in response before you closed your eyes.

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teddywrites0 · 5 months

Text

Safe & Sound (h.j)

Now playing: Safe & Sound, by Taylor Swift.

summary: it’s been two weeks since you’ve spoken to your best friend, you find no contact to be unbearable. calling him to apologize, not expecting him to come over, not expecting him to confess. (best friends to lovers?)

warnings (?): fluff, slight angst, let me know if i missed any.

word count: 835

a/n: lower case intended, needed my first one shot on tumblr to be a bit comforting (:

the dim light cast shadows on your tear stained face, humming a familiar tune to yourself as you rocked back and forth. ‘should i call? would it make a difference?’ you kept thinking to yourself. your thumb hovered over his contact, it’s been two weeks since you’ve spoken. ‘why not’ you thought, and with that you hit call. it rang once, only once, before the familiar voice filled your ears. “y/n? hello?” your lips parted, almost terrified to speak. “y/n?” you heard shuffling and quickly responded before he could hang up. “ji..” voice barely above a whisper. “y/n? are you alright?” tears pricked your eyes, “i’m really sorry.” you said, voice crackly from the tears. “its- its fine.” he said softly, sounding a bit out of breath, as if he had been holding it. “no, no it’s not fine, i need to see you, i need to apologize in person.” you said, throat aching. “i’m coming over.”

jisung didn’t know why he even bothered to pick up, he was still upset with you, but he knew he could never be mad at you. he didn’t know why he bothered to leave the studio, to get in his car, and run two red lights to get to your apartment. he didn’t know why he knocked on your door, knowing he still had a spare key. “come in.” you said softly from the other side. he opened the door to see you curled up on the floor in front of the couch, eyes red and puffy, as you looked at him he felt his heart shatter. he closed the door behind him, slowly making his way to you, sitting next to you on the hardwood floor. “i’m sorry ji.” memories floating above the two of you.

“i can hang out with whoever i want jisung i have no clue why you’re so angry with me!” he sighed taking a step closer. “he wasn’t trying to just hang out with you!” he shouted back. “god it’s like you’re jealous! listen it’s not my fault you’re like in love with me!” you put your hand over your mouth, immediate regret washing over you. he stormed out of your apartment, slamming the front door behind him.

“listen it’s okay..” you shook your head rapidly, “no it’s not! i shouldn’t have accused you i’ve something like that, you’re my bestfriend i was just angry.” he looked down at his lap, “you weren’t wrong.” you turned toward him, tear filled eyes widening. “what?” you whispered. he scooted closer to you, enveloping your hands in his own. “i said you weren’t wrong.. i am in love with you.” your lips parted, displaying a shocked expression. “from the moment i met you in music class.. from the stupid on a whim decisions we made together.. i have loved you ever since i’ve known you.” his own eyes began to fill with tears, “i’ll admit i was a coward, and- and i should’ve told you sooner.. and i shouldn’t have been jealous, but god you’re so stubborn,” he chuckled, wiping away the tears that began to fall with the back of his hand. “i thought i was obvious, and i thought maybe you’d love me too.” you were taken aback, you knew what you wanted to say, it was on the tip of your tongue; you just didn’t know how to say it. “you don’t have to say anything, i know it’s stupid of me to push this confession on you..” you cut him off by pulling yourself into his lap, and leaning forward till your foreheads were pressed against one another. his eyes widened, and you cupped each side of his face in both hands. “i think that’s when i started to love you too.” you said softly, and with that his lips were on yours. it was soft, but it held so much emotion, so much misunderstanding was whisked away. his hands found purchase on your waist, holding you as if you’d slip away. he pulled away, searching your eyes for any hint of dishonesty, yet there wasn’t, just upmost adoration, and love. “i love you.” — “i love you too.”

you stayed there for a while, holding onto each other, you felt safe, feeling yourself doze off. he carried you to your bedroom, laying you down and pulling the covers over you. “ji.. stay.” you whispered, reaching out for his hand. “are you sure?” he asked sincerely, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand gently. you nodded, moving over for him to lay down with you. he pulled you close to his chest, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “can you sing that one song to me.. from when we were kids?” he nodded slightly, cradling you in his arms. he took a deep breath and began to sing softly, “just close your eyes, the sun is going down. you’ll be alright. no one can hurt you now. come morning light, you and i’ll be safe and sound..”

#skz #stray kids #han jisung #skz jisung #fluff #skz oneshots #han jisung fluff #stray kids fluff #light angst

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pinchofhoney · 1 year

Note

HIII

First off: YAAAYYY we hit the same milestones together omg!

You're practically my tumblr soulmate now!!

Secondly, my request:

Ben Barnes with angst prompt 1 and fluff prompt 9.

Maybe like best friends in love but they see each other fall in love with other people before they accept their feelings and get together??

a tale of chance and destiny # 200 follower special event

» prompt event » special events masterlist

angst prompt one: “i guess i wasn’t enough, was i?”

fluff prompt nine: “how much longer are you going to hide your feelings for me, dummy?”

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

ben barnes x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warning: a little angst with a fluff touch, friends to lovers

summary: Life can be a whirlwind of surprises, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

a/n: oh, who do we have here?? my sweetest tumblr dot com user<33 hello!! let's shine together and continue to be delusional by writing things that will never happen lmao

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @myladydarkling @alexxavicry

The torment of unrequited love had been with you for as long as you could remember. Your heart ached every time you looked at Ben, your best friend, and realized that he would probably never feel the same way about you again. Yet, you couldn't help but hold onto hope that maybe, just maybe, he would see you in a different light.

As you both grew up together, spending countless hours playing in the park, building forts in the woods, and dreaming about your future, your bond grew stronger. You shared everything with each other, including your passion for acting. You made a promise to pursue it together, and you did just that.

But fate had a cruel way of teasing you. Your friendship took an unexpected turn when you were cast as love interests in a movie. You both tried to resist the chemistry between you, but it was too strong to ignore. You dove headfirst into a romantic relationship, believing that it was meant to be. However, the harsh reality of the entertainment industry set in, and the demands of your busy schedules made it almost impossible to find time for each other. The once-strong bond began to fray, and you both realized that you were better off as friends.

The aftermath was a painful and bittersweet journey. Years went by, and both you and Ben tried to move on with your lives, dating other people and pursuing your careers. But the feelings you had for each other never completely vanished. You could still feel the intense longing, the deep yearning for something you couldn't have. The memories of what could have been haunted you, and you found yourself daydreaming about Ben, wondering if things could have been different.

One particularly rough day on set, you returned home exhausted and defeated. You collapsed onto your bed and let out a deep sigh. Your mind was filled with images of Ben with his new girlfriend, laughing and smiling together on social media. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy and sadness.

You dragged yourself to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. You stared at your reflection, feeling completely drained. “I guess I wasn't enough, was I?” you said to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper.

The tears fell freely down your face, and you tried to wipe them away with shaking hands. But they kept coming, a never-ending reminder of the pain you felt deep inside. You didn't know how to move on, how to forget about Ben and the feelings you had for him for all these years.

You tried to push away the feeling of sadness and jealousy that crept up inside you. You knew you shouldn't feel this way, that Ben was free to be with whoever he wanted. But the thought of him with someone else just made your heart ache.

You leaned against the bathroom sink and closed your eyes, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Suddenly, your phone buzzed on the counter, interrupting your thoughts. It was a text from Ben.

“Hey, are you okay? You seemed pretty down today,” the message read.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read his words. You hesitated for a moment before typing out a response.

“Not really. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed,” you replied.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzed again.

The pain was becoming unbearable. The thought of Ben with another woman was a constant thorn in your side, a reminder of everything you couldn't have. And now, with him asking if you wanted to talk, the temptation to spill your heart out was almost too much to bear.

You wanted nothing more than to tell him everything. To let him know how much you loved him and how much it hurt to see him with someone else. But you knew that it would only make things worse. So, you swallowed your pain and replied with a simple “No, I'm fine.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You sighed deeply and cast a quick glance at your reflection. Your smudged makeup made you look even more pathetic, as if crying for a man you couldn't have wasn't enough.

The realization hit you hard – you were in love with someone who would never love you back. You tried to push the thought away, but it clung to you like a disease. Every moment you spent with Ben was filled with the unspoken tension of unrequited love.

You had to pull yourself together, especially since tomorrow you were going to have to visit the set where you were supposed to meet Ben. You took a quick shower, where you thoroughly cleaned your face of any leftover makeup and changed into comfortable pajamas, then went straight to bed, trying not to think about your friend and the girl who made him smile widely.

But sleep was elusive, and your mind raced with thoughts of Ben. You couldn't escape the pain, no matter how hard you tried. You tossed and turned, wishing for the sweet release of unconsciousness, but it never came.

The morning came too soon, and you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling more exhausted than ever. As you got dressed, the thought of seeing Ben again filled you with both dread and excitement. You knew that you had to be strong, to put on a brave face and act like everything was okay.

But as soon as you saw him, all your resolve crumbled. The way he smiled at you, the sound of his voice, the way he moved – it all reminded you of what you couldn't have.

Despite trying to keep your feelings under control, you found it increasingly difficult to hide your emotions for Ben. Every time you saw him with someone else, your heart ached. You tried to convince yourself that his happiness was all that mattered, but deep down, you knew you were lying to yourself.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and you both continued living your lives as best as you could. But little did you know, Ben was also struggling with his feelings for you. You had always assumed he was happy in his relationships, but that wasn't the case.

One day, after a long day of work, Ben asked you to come over to his apartment for a drink. You happily accepted, excited to spend some time with him. As you walked in, you couldn't help but feel nostalgic. Nothing had changed since your last visit a few months ago.

After catching up on each other's lives, you and Ben had a few drinks and began to feel more relaxed in each other's company. As the night wore on, Ben turned to you and with a twinkle in his eye, asked, “How much longer are you going to hide your feelings for me, dummy?” You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. You had always been afraid of confessing your feelings to Ben, afraid that it might ruin your friendship, especially since it didn't work out for you once. But Ben had something else to say, “We broke up with Lena a few days ago, and I couldn't keep it up any longer. To hide what I really feel and I know you feel the same.”

You couldn't believe it. The man you had secretly loved for so long had just confessed that he felt the same way about you. Without hesitation, you leaned in and kissed him. It was a sweet, gentle kiss that felt like all the stars in the sky had aligned just for you. It felt like everything finally made sense, and all your fears were put to rest.

You spent the rest of the night talking about your future together, dreaming up all the amazing things you could do and be as a couple. You snuggled up together on the couch, feeling content and happy.

As you left Ben's apartment that night, you couldn't help but feel grateful for all the years of friendship that had brought you to this moment. You had been through so much together, and now you were finally able to take the next step in your journey together.

You knew that the road ahead wouldn't be without its challenges. You had made mistakes in the past, and you were determined not to repeat them. But as you looked up at the starry sky, you knew that destiny had brought you and Ben together for a reason. You placed your trust in the universe and felt a sense of peace knowing that everything would work out as it should.

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nerdieforpedro · 4 months

Text

Canta para mi (You sing for me)

Nuestras Canciones (Our Songs)

Santiago Garcia x Amalia (plus size OFC)

Main Masterlist / Santiago Garcia Masterlist

Fic is teens and up. My entire blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 593

Summary: A night like many Amalia shares with her husband Santiago. They intertwine with each other. Her voice explains her love for him.

Warnings: None - just domestic fluff

Notes: I promised it would get sweeter, it is with a tinge of melancholy. ☺️

Though she couldn't play an instrument, Amalia used her voice. Daily. It changed depending on whoever she spoke to and what the subject matter was.

Soft. Stern. Curious. Kind. Jovial, sullen, compassionate, alluring, indifferent.

“So many things you do with it all day. Forget all that! Come! Let’s sing!” Santiago had told her, wrapping his hands around his wife’s ample hips in the living room and leading her to dance to one of her favorites Stevie Wonder “As.” She laughed and called him ‘loco’ to which he replied “You love it querida!” And nuzzled his bushy beard into the nape of her neck, causing her to giggle. The pair floated around the room laughing and singing to a playlist Santi had set up for her on tough days. The speaker would blast the music throughout the house.

When their dances would end or they’d just get tired enough, they’d sit on the couch and cuddle into one another. Sometimes Santiago would remain the big spoon and other times Amalia’s legs would be spread so Pope could lay his back against his wife's soft belly and breasts. She’d mingle her fingers in his curls as another hand made small circles over his chest. They would remain connected like this for a few hours. If one of them drifted off to sleep, it was the other’s responsibility to wake them and get them to bed.

On one such night, Amalia’s hand was strumming her husband’s chest as she played with his salt and pepper curls. Their color had changed but not their silken texture. “I thought of something for you Santi. Escucha por favor (Listen please).” Pope remained silent as he heard his wife's voice ring out into the room.

My strong anchor when I feel adrift

Kind words when I arrive

Beaming laughter teasing me

Even when I was scared of myself

You held onto me

Never let me go

Forever etched in memory

The day you said you’d never leave

You’ve wiped so many of my tears

I hope I’ve been a balm to your aches

Brought clarity to your muddled waters

Mi esposo Mi corázon Mi vida (My husband, my heart, my everything)

Te amo Santiago (I love you Santiago)

He had closed his eyes while he listened to her voice. It was clear she had worked on it and it wasn’t a spur of the moment song. That made it all the more special. His wife had written a song for him, something only his like she was. Santiago hadn’t realized that his beard was a little wet from his tears. He only knew when he removed his glasses to rub his eyes. Amalia placed both her hands on her husband’s chest and kissed his forehead, his bountiful curls tickling her chin. “Let go Santiago. It’s just you and me. I’m here with you. You’re safe, you’re home.” Quiet sobs of Amalia’s husband now filled the room where there had been music. She let him continue until he fell asleep, remaining with him until the sun rose the next morning.

“One night of uncomfortable sleep is plenty to give him for what he’s given me.” Amalia told herself when she woke in the morning. Pope’s eyes were puffy but had a subtle glow to them. He was already awake and handed her coffee prepared as she liked it.

“Even after all these years you still surprise me cariño. You’ll sing to me another night won’t you?” Amalia nodded and took her first sip of the day. Bold. Rich. Sweet. Creamy. Warm.

Previous: Verse One

Next: Verse Three

Santi's Peaches 🍑: @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @megamindsecretlair @pedritapascal @rhoorl @dameron-grant-spector @pamasaur @sin-djarin @i-own-loki @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @readingiskeepingmegoing @saturn-rings-writes @yorksgirl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @musings-of-a-rose

#fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #Santiago gracia x plus size OFC #Neustras Canciónes #Our songs

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burnt-avocado · 2 years

Text

Empty Space 6

Empty Space - Chapter 6

summary: claudia gets a call, hopper responds to another. what’s wrong with mars? [3.8k]

CW: mention of suicide

series tags: canon divergence, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, memory loss, [REDACTED]

Chapter 5 | Masterlist

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Mars

“Fuck,” Mars says, eyes upon her own reflection. The mirror is blurred, foggy under a layer of steam that dulls the details of her image on the medicine cabinet. “Fuck,” she mutters again and hunches herself further over Mike’s bathroom sink. The air is thick, humid from the heat of the running shower.

After the house had emptied, the Wheeler boy returned to keep both Mars and El company. He’d been eager to give El a tour of his home as well as offering up the contents of his pantry to the both of them, but Mars had only wanted to shower. Mike had led her upstairs to the bathroom he and his sisters used, saying, “Nancy has girl soap you can borrow.” He’d also lent her the dryer machine, so Mars’ jeans would at least be wearable once she’d finished up. She hadn’t asked him to dry her Burgers shirt.

She’s starting to regret being alone. Her thoughts haven’t ceased their spiraling, panicked and dreadful since her realization that the people chasing after El—the people capable of murder—possibly knew her name.

Mars had, in fact, hurled. She’d emptied her stomach into the basement’s washroom toilet, retching with the new gut-turning knowledge. They could know who she was, whoever they were. And they could kill her just as easily as they killed Benny. Mars thought of every possible, terrible scenario over that toilet bowl. Would they hurt El if they found them? Retch. What if they found out about the boys? About Dustin? Retch. Would they hurt Claudia, too? All of their families?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

She’s trying to handle the weight—the pressure. Mars shuts her eyes tightly, focusing on the sound of water hitting tile, the feeling of the warm dew collecting on her skin, trying to take in the taste of lingering mint mouthwash on the roof of her mouth. It’s not nearly grounding enough. Her reflection is less of an image than an indistinct blob of color beneath the steam when she opens her eyes again, and wipes away a dewy circle to peek at her face.

Mars’ head of dark, wavy coils of hair is unkempt and frizzed, tied back with a lent scrunchy in a way that hides nothing of her face. Her eyelids are puffy, chafed carnelian from rubbing away tears, the color of her irises hardly as bright as they ought to be, honey dimmed and ill. Her skin has paled from its usual warm, caramel undertone of tawny black to grayish and peaky. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, she thinks to herself. She supposes she might as well have.

With a rattling breath and a last glance to her reflection, Mars finally turns away from the sink and undresses. The piping hot water from the shower welcomes her, stinging and reddening her naked skin after peeling off the blouse and pajama pants. ‘You can give them back to me at school tomorrow,’ Nancy had said. Mars didn’t know then when, or if, she’d be able to give back Barb’s clothes, but now? Who knows? I might be running from the bad people in Barbara Holland’s shirt soon enough. Mars winces at the thought, more easily focusing on the biting heat of the shower. It’s easier when it’s painful to focus on what’s outside, rather than the terror inside, she thinks. Mars takes her time in lathering pink, strawberry-scented body wash over herself. It’s a small joy to worry about how Nancy’s shampoo might impact the integrity of her curls, deciding to forgo the struggle of washing her hair in the Wheeler’s bathroom, relishing instead in the steam and the soap on her skin. There’s a moment, when she’s letting the suds rinse off of her, that Mars rests her forehead against the shower tile, colored periwinkle and cool to the touch. Between the heat of the water, the dimmed light from behind the shower curtain, and the chill of the ceramic, Mars is finally able to breathe a sigh of relief to diminish the ineffable weight that sat upon her ribcage. Her thoughts aren’t so loud anymore.

A knock, knock, knock comes from the bathroom door. It’s instinct that brings her arms up to cover her chest, and a zing of that familiar panic shoots straight up her spine. Who—?

“Mars?” comes through to her, shy and small. It’s El, quiet beneath the sounds of the bathroom.

Mars peels back the vinyl shower curtain and tilts her head to face the direction the voice came, behind the bathroom door. “Yes? Everything okay?” she calls back, meeting the child’s soft tone with seriousness.

“For you,” she hears the little girl say. It’s not urgent; there’s no panic in her voice. Safe. “Mike said.”

“Oh!” Her jeans. She suddenly feels less tense. “Oh, y-yeah, thank you! Wait just one sec!”

Mars is quick to twist off the steaming water and fully pull back the shower curtain. Not too quick, however, Mars would rather not die naked and wet on Nancy Wheeler’s bathroom floor. It’s easy enough to towel off the damp from her skin, though she hisses when the rough cotton brushes the heat-bitten skin. She dresses herself back into her underthings and borrowed clothes to face the girl on the other side of the door.

El stares up at her when Mars looks out into the hall, a whoosh of cooler air soothing Mars’ cheeks. Held in the shorter girl’s hand are Mars’ denim jeans she’d worn the day previous, unwashed but dry. And unfolded, they dangle by the waist from El’s outstretched arm. “For you.”

“Much appreciated, El.” This smile comes easy to her, much easier than any expression had before the wash.

The buzzed-haired girl squints, lifting her chin. She sniffs the air, little nostrils flaring in puffs. Her eyes search Mars’ with perplexion. “It smells…?”

‘What word?’

“I used a bit of Nancy’s strawberry soap. Too much, do you think?”

El shakes her head. “No, it smells… good.”

Mars hums, the corners of her lips still upturned. “Righty. May I have my pants?” They’re given to her eagerly, an almost bashful expression coming to El’s face. “Thanks, be right out,” and shuts the door to change.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Claudia

“And he says she’s gone to school with a boy!”

“No!"

“Yes, Marsha! I couldn’t believe it! With the missing boy and…Wait, where was I?”

“I believe that’s forty-five, there, Claudia.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Claudia Henderson remembers herself—and her job—and continues back to counting dollar bills. Forty-six, forty-seven…

“Did he say a name?” Marsha Holland asks, hands clasped together at the lip of the window. The woman’s wrapped in her finest blue coat, striking against the red of her hair. She’d come into the bank for a withdrawal, but the task could wait while they got their gossip in.

“The boy who called on Sunday! ‘Steve Harrington.’” Forty-eight, forty-nine…

There’s no gasp that comes from Marsha like Claudia expects, only a breath’s length of silence. “Harrington, did you say?”

“...And fifty!” Claudia finishes, stacking the last of the bills onto the counter—two twenties, one five and five ones. Marsha’s auburn brows are creasing a line on her forehead when Claudia looks up. “Yes, Steve Harrington. I haven’t heard much about that family since, well, the assistant debacle, but now my niece is hanging around with their son! Out of the blue, no warning signs.”

“Oh, Claudia,” Marsha looks scandalized in the best way, collecting her withdrawal from the counter and tucking the cash into her purse, “I believe I’ve heard interesting things about that boy.”

It’s Claudia’s turn to furrow her brows, attentive and leaning in further to her friend. “‘Interesting?’”

“Barbara has mentioned him once or twice,” the woman’s sleeved arms cross on top of the counter, the both of them huddling in, “Apparently he’s well-known amongst his peers, a popular sort.” Claudia’s nodding along. “Star player on the basketball team—swim team, too—and, more importantly, Karen’s daughter is positively taken with the boy.”

“Karen Wheeler?”

“Karen Wheeler. That Nancy’s head over heels.”

“Are they in a—” Claudia’s interrupted by the ringing of a phone, “Sorry, one moment.” She turns from her teller’s window to march straight to her desk behind the main counter.

“Don’t fret, hon,” Marsha says, her car keys jingling, “I’ve errands to run anyhow. Phone you after dinner?”

Claudia doesn’t get a full-on answer out, just a smile pointed after her friend and a quick nod and wave, picking up the phone from its cradle and lifting it to her ear. “Hawkins City Bank, this is Claudia.”

Nothing comes through.

“Hello?” she asks. There’s no dial tone, so she couldn’t have missed them. “Hello, are you there?”

“Hi, Claudia,” a voice finally emerges, "this is the Hawkins High School front office, calling on behalf of your daughter, Mars Henderson. Is this a good time?”

Claudia’s spine straightens. “My niece, but—yes, yes, of course! Is everything okay?”

“Apologies. We were actually hoping to ask you the same thing,” each word is dripping saccharine, “Mars has been reported absent by each of her teachers so far, and it’s halfway through fourth period by now.” Both of her hands are clutching at the phone. “Is she home sick?”

Claudia’s mind flashes to earlier this morning. Dustin had been rushing to gulp down his cereal, a honeycomb-shaped chunk hanging off his chin when she’d called out for Mars. She thought the girl had slept in. “She left already,” her son said, scraping up the remains of his bowl into his mouth, “with a boy.” Claudia couldn’t contain her shock, but Dusty wouldn’t let her get a question in. “She said his name was Steve and she has a project with him and she had to go early; I’ve gotta go, Mom, see you later!” And he was out the door.

Steve. She'd recognized the name. The same boy had called two days before. “Um, hi, I’m calling for Mars Henderson, is she there?” Claudia had been excited. A boy calling Mars? She regretted having to tell him the girl was at work. “Ah, I see. Well, I’d called to remind her about our English project due tomorrow, but, uh… Could you tell her I called?” With a wide grin, she’d assured the boy that she would. If I knew his name. “Steve,” he’d said. “Steve Harrington.”

Claudia moves a hand to rub at her temples. “No, she’s not sick, she—” a breath to steady herself “—she was supposed to be at school. Another student picked her up today.”

The voice over the phone comes back, near-sickening sweetness now questioning. “Do you know which student, ma’am?”

His name falls from her lips.

“Hm. This name is certainly familiar.” Claudia isn’t able to say more, the person on the other end of the line continues on. “Thank you, Ms. Henderson,” her stomach broils with unease, and she’s unsure why. “This conversation has been most helpful.”

And the line goes dead.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Mars

Mars finds Mike’s newly appeared shyness endearing. He’s standing in front of her and El, his arms crossed against his chest and his freckled cheeks a bright pink. “You can come in here, if you like,” he says, “My room’s pretty cool.” His following shrug is very nonchalant.

Mars is in his doorway, leaning on the jam now dressed in her jeans, Barb’s pink blouse tucked into the waistband and folded pajama pants resting in the crook of her elbow. El stands to her right, a few heads shorter and staring past Mike and into his room. From their spot, Mars gets a look within. His bedroom walls are a shade lighter than the Wheeler’s abysmally blue carpet, lined with movie posters and drawings, floating oak shelves holding up countless toys and figurines. His floors are perfectly messy, loose socks and lone LEGO blocks littered about. There are two beds, a lofted bunk with the bottom frame facing out perpendicularly from the top, and both are covered in unmade, checkered bedding. Ah, a twelve-year old’s paradise. El walks in, looking cluelessly around Mike’s bedroom.

“You can play with anything you’d like,” Mike says, still red, but kind nevertheless. He’s watching the girl as she peruses his action figures.

Mars wonders if El’s ever played with toys. Another reason to hate the people after her, if not.

Mike’s moved further into the room, sitting at a low-standing table with a number of figures atop it. His hands grasp a tiny green alien, “El, this is Yoda! He talks funny, like this,” and he shifts his voice to accommodate the impression, “‘Ready are you? What knows you of ready?’”

Still from her spot in the doorway, Mars shuffles to lean against the jam. The fingers that hang loosely at her side are twitching, unsure. She’s hovering, unsure how to interact. El, however, takes in all of Mike’s room with wide, interested eyes.

“El, look!” Mike urges. She doesn’t. “He can use the Force to move things with his mind, like this!” The boy swipes his hands across his table of toys with a “whoosh!” When El stills in front of his dresser of trophies to Mars’ right, he’s quick to jump up.

He’s covered the dresser’s surface with a handful of awards, a few Mars recognizes from the mantle above her fireplace at home. “Oh, these are my science fair trophies,” Mike explains. El bends over to take a closer look. “We got first every year! Except for last year when we got third. Mr. Clarke said it was totally political.”

Mars smiles a little, the boy’s words quite familiar. She’s heard Dustin rant about that very loss at least a dozen times. El, however, doesn’t acknowledge Mike, even as he stands closely at her side. Instead, the little girl’s face goes pale as she focuses in on something Mars can’t quite see. “El?” She asks, standing up straight.

Confusion mars Mike’s features, mirroring the ice-cold feeling that falls into Mars’ gut. And as El raises a shaky finger up to a framed photograph amongst Mike’s trophies, Mars finally moves to follow the girl’s eyes. Where El’s tiny finger meets the glass, holding up a first-place trophy alongside his friends, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, is the image of Will Byers.

That chill from Mars’ stomach spreads up her spine and raises the hair on the back of her neck. What the fuck?

“You know Will?” Mike is able to ask. “Did you see him? Last night? On the road?”

El doesn’t get the chance to answer, startling up at the sound of a car outside. Mars freezes, eyes going wide. “Shit! Who’s here?”

Mike runs over to his window, looking down outside. Whatever he sees, his reaction is quick, coming back to grab onto El’s arm and looking up to meet Mars’ eyes. A wave of panic flushes over Mars’ mind, the word ‘Mom’ pushing its way to the forefront of her consciousness. “We’ve gotta go!”

The boy brushes past Mars, whipping open his bedroom door and dragging El along with him out and down the hall. Her heart thumping loudly, Mars chases after them. In a few strides, they’re all rushing down the stairs toward the basement, but Mike stops in his tracks halfway down. And that’s when Mars hears the front door slam closed. Karen Wheeler’s saying something aloud, something Mars doesn’t care to understand as she takes her hands and grasps at both of the kids in front of her, yanking them backwards. In that hairpin reaction, she hadn’t thought of how she’d cause Mike to stumble, his knees hitting the stairs loudly. Shit! There’s a split second where the three of them freeze, but when Karen calls out “Ted? Is that you?” they immediately bolt back upstairs. Shit shit shit shit shit—

Mike acts, yelling back, “It’s just me, Mom!” He and El frantically trail after Mars as she’s diving back into Mike’s room, looking around wildly for a place to hide.

“Mike? What are you doing home?” Karen questions from downstairs. Shit, fuck, dick, ass, we’re fucked!

“One second!” Mike throws as he slams closed his bedroom door behind them. Mars’ eyes land on his closet, and the image of an obnoxiously pretty boy rips through her memory.

Mike must’ve had the same idea. “In the closet!” he whispers through heavy breaths. Mars doesn’t hesitate, pulling open the wooden doors in an instant. She shoves to the side hanging garments and a pile of dirty clothes to the side, standing ready for El to step in.

“Fuck, she’s not gonna come up here, right?” she asks. Her heart is about ready to jump out of her throat with the way it’s beating.

“Just get in! I’ll be right back!” He’s saying this more to El, who looks into the closet with reluctance. “Please, you have to get in! Or my mom, she’ll find you!”

Mars adds, “El, we need to hide,” trying her best to keep her voice gentle. The girl still doesn’t move.

“I promise I won’t tell her about you, I just need you to—”

El interrupts the boy. “Promise?” she asks, brows quirking.

“It means something you can’t break,” Mike tells her. “Ever.”

“Michael?” Karen calls out once more.

It’s Mars’ turn to plead. “Please, El.”

The girl sighs, face still twisted in ambivalence, but moves into the closet. She looks expectantly back at Mars as she tucks herself between hanging flannels. The older teen ducks down to fit beside her, and Mike immediately closes them in.

The space is tiny, Mars has to hunch over so as to not hit her head, and fitting in with another body, however tiny, doesn’t make it much easier. How the hell did Harrington manage this? There’s no light, only her and El’s breaths filling the tight space and swallowing them up. Mars thinks she hears Mike leave, slamming his door behind him, but her pulse rings loudly in her ears. An ache flares in her neck from her awkward posture, and she shifts so that she can look to the girl beside her. “As good a hiding spot as any, I guess.”

El doesn’t respond. Mars notices how her chest has begun to rise and fall rapidly, El’s eyes clenched shut in an almost pained expression.

“El?” the girl’s lip begins to quiver. “El, are you okay?” Another layer of panic settles over Mars when she doesn’t respond, her breaths heavy and labored. Shit, what do I do?

“H-hey,” Mars tries again, “it’s okay. We’ll be fine, she won’t get us. You’re okay.”

El’s hands twist at her sides, grasping at her sweatpants and gripping so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Her eyes are moving back and forth beneath her eyelids, and Mars can’t figure out what the fuck to do.

Mars shifts to stand on her knees, now a head lower than El, and reaches a hand tentatively outward. “El, can you look at me?” Please, she thinks. “Honey, please look at me.”

And when Mars’ fingers brush against the back of El’s hand, teary eyes flash open and tear into Mars’ mind in a whizzing light.

The sensation is unlike anything she’s experienced. She wouldn’t call it painful, no. Just… foreign, how she feels her body dropping through the floor, her head tugging upward into the sky, the space behind her eyes filling up with empty space. Gone are touch, smell, taste, and sound, but she swears she can see. Nothing solid, nothing concrete, but a figment of unclear reality that she’s desperate to cling onto. It’s a twisted instinct she can’t recall ever having, peering into something that she doesn’t understand and leaping.

An unrelenting quake reverberates in this middling existence, and then, from a din of sickened, purplish fog, a voice cracks out like a whip. “Papa!" it cries, so pained and so frightened. “Papa!”

Like a yawn, pushing up within her skull and swelling in her throat, another wave of pressure shifts the fog. And then there’s a shape, tiny and frail, wriggling against an unyielding force. “No! Papa!” The voice sounds familiar, it must be. In a swirl of blackened fear, the image twists unto itself with a horrifying feeling of falling, like missing a step on a staircase, like the ground collapsing underneath her weight. There’s another fear, then, no longer alien and displaced. It’s hers.

A thought, warbling and disjointed within the vacuum, presses into the cavity that should be her chest and bursts out into the bruised air. It’s like a hot bolt of lightning, and she swears she can hear the rumble of thunder as it rolls through the mist.

Just a piece.

And she’s gone, being sucked down a drain—swallowed, turned inside out and digested—

Mars gasps for air. The existence of everything hits her all at once, and it sends her straight on her ass. A sob racks through her chest, her hands coming up to clutch at her head. A searing ache has taken root in her temples, and she rocks into her knees trying to make it go away.

A whimper reminds her of where she is. Tearing her eyes upward, Mars spots El holding her head between her hands in an almost perfect mirror.

“El,” Mars croaks, “Eleven—”

The little girl has tears rolling down her cheeks, face twisted up in anguish. Mars doesn’t dare reach out to comfort her, this time.

“Are y-you okay?” she eventually says, after many beats of sniffling and silent weeping.

There’s a pause. Then El shakily nods, hands falling from her head and tightening them around her knees to tuck them in closer. Mars swallows at that, a little relieved. Though, she has to blink back another round of tears that well up at her lash line, fear and confusion still weighing heavily upon her.

What the hell happened to me?

When Mike Wheeler opens up his closet door, he’s met with the sight of the two girls huddling on the ground, shaken. He asks them if they’re okay, Mars knows, but she doesn’t hear. Not really. She thinks Eleven uses her new word, “Promise,” but Mars can only bring herself to say one thing.

“Fuck.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Jim

Wrapped in a white sheet, the body lies in front of Jim Hopper lifeless and still. He won’t deny the sadness that he feels knowing who’s underneath. Ambulance lights flash in his periphery, fostering a hefty migraine, and the EMTs prepare to send off the body to the morgue downtown.

Jim rolls his jaw from side to side. “Have Flo get in contact with Claudia Henderson,” he tells Callahan, who he knows is lingering behind him—he always is. “Get her and her niece down to the station. They’ll give us a clearer picture.”

Callahan hums, walking off. From his own radio, Jim hears the officer speak out on their channel. “Hey, Flo, gonna need you to make a call.

“Benny Hammond’s committed suicide.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #oc fanfiction #fanfiction #autism coded #neurodivergent reader #eleven #jim hopper #mike wheeler

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bethdutten · 2 years

Text

habit for disaster

henry cavill x reader

summary: after a huge fight over henry’s jealousy, you finally let out how it made you feel. part 2 of this.

words: 1k

warnings: angst! angst! angst! some fluff!

He scrolled past a post of you with a few of your friends out to dinner, smiling with a wine glass in your hand. He hadn’t talked to you in twelve days.

He remembered a day a couple months ago, when you’d gone to the dog park with Kal and he'd snapped a photo of you smiling over at him, wind in your hair and so much love for him in your eyes he wanted to post it and let everyone know what he had.

Now he might never see that look in your eyes again.

After that night, you’d spend most of the days out with your mom, and nights out with your friends. He’d see you for a few minutes if he was lucky, and you wouldn’t say a word to him.

He left for a few days for some work stuff, and had text you to let you know he wouldn’t be home. He didn’t get a response.

It had been days since you’d last spoke. He kept up with your social media, feeling the crushing realization that you may be cutting him out of your life.

But you’d just walked through the door and he could hear you coming down the stairs, 10pm on a Saturday night.

You walked past Henry in the kitchen, turning slightly to avoid touching him as you reach into the fridge to grab a drink. You could hear him let out a sigh, his beer bottle hitting the countertop with more force than was necessary.

“You can’t do this forever. We live in the same house.”

You didn’t say anything, wordlessly giving Kal a scratch behind the ears as you made your way to the living room. You needed to catch up on the new episodes of Queer Eye.

But now was when Henry had decided to fight, you realized. He took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, facing you. You didn’t look over at him, scrolling through the titles of Netflix.

The remote was ripped from your hand before you could think, a frustrated cry on the tip of your tongue before Henry spoke.

“You need to talk to me, I can’t stand us not communicating when you’re clearly just punishing me.”

You turned towards him slowly, mouth slightly agape. “Punishing you? Are you fucking twelve? Am I putting you in the time-out corner?”

He grimaced, placing the remote down on the coffee table. “Feels like it. We can't talk like grown ups now? Look, just tell me what I need to do to fix this--”

“No,” you shot back, crossing your arms across your chest and facing forward. “Figure it out yourself, since you’re the one mature one.”

“Stop it,” he gritted out, watching you adamantly avoid his gaze. You could be so stubborn sometimes. “Can you just see this from my side, please? I was fucking jealous, I’m sorry. I should not have reacted that way. But how would you feel if some woman was all over--”

“You think I don’t feel the same way, knowing there are literally millions of women who would steal you away from me without a second thought?” you choked out, breath caught in your throat. You felt a sudden onslaught of emotion, weeks worth of pain bubbling to the surface all at once. “You think I haven’t thought about demanding you to never leave my side, screaming at anyone who touches you?”

Henry glanced up at you, a flash of hurt across his eyes. But you weren’t finished.

“But the worst part of that night, Hen, was hearing you say you ‘perform’ for me,” you had to force the words out, a wave of pain crashing through your body as the memory for him saying it came back to you in clear focus. “Like, who are you? Am I with the same Henry that everyone else sees? Am I not special?”

You could hardly see through the tears now, and it was physically hurting Henry not to pull you into his arms and crush you in a hug right now, wipe all the tears away and promise to kill whoever made you feel like this. Only, it was him. He did this to you.

You turned away, eyes focusing outside the window as you struggled to get yourself in control again. Kal bumped his nose against your hand, sensing your distress, and you rested the palm of your hand on his head to ground you. Breathe, just breathe, you reminded yourself.

There were a few minutes of silence, and you were starting to breathe normally when Henry finally spoke.

“I don’t know why I said that. I don’t... I don’t perform for you, at least not like I do for other people,” he spoke softly, almost to himself. “When we first got together, I thought I had to be the man the media portrayed me as, because I thought that’s what you wanted, too. I didn’t even realize that you brought out the real me, it wasn’t even a conscious decision. You just-- you just make me so happy.”

You shifted slightly to look over at him, and he was looking at you like a broken man, his heart out on his sleeve. Vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. You moved a bit closer to him, wanting to comfort him somehow.

He reached a hand out and tentatively brushed his knuckle over your knee, sighing. “Then I get insecure, and jealous and stupid, and I put on that mask again because I’m scared if you see those flaws, the really bad ones... you’ll think that's the real me. And it’s not--”

“I know it’s not,” you rushed out, hand grabbing his and intertwining your fingers. God, not feeling the warmth of his skin in days was making you feel like you were detoxing from the harshest drug, and you were about to get your next fix. “I just don’t understand why you acted like that, when I’ve spend months showing you how much I love you. What the fuck, Hen?”

He shook his head slightly, glancing away. “I made a mistake. It was wrong, I fucked up, I’m human. I should have trusted you, and you were right to shut me out for that. I do trust you. But the thought of losing you... god, I just can’t--”

You silenced him with a kiss, a hand tangling in his curls as you clumsily climbed into his lap. He let out this small sound, like a pathetic little groan, and it gave you an opening to slide your tongue into his mouth, finally tasting him again.

He knew what he did was wrong. He was scared enough to learn his lesson. And you were okay with knowing this Henry, this broken and damaged and imperfect Henry, was the one you got to love.

You pulled away with a slight whimper, cupping his face and tracing your thumb over the dark circles under his eyes. “Fuck, I love you. Don’t ever do something like that again.”

Henry let out a laugh, leaning in to kiss away a stray tear from your cheek. “I love you too. I won’t.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill angst #i’m not like super happy with this one but

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baroquebucky · 3 years

Text

in which bucky is protective over his favorite girl

warnings: violence

masterlist

a/n: hi guys !! i hope you gets enjoy this one shot it’s just angst and fluff <3 (written at 3 am plz forgive any typos) ,, send in some requests !!

Bucky was protective of all the things he loved and cared about.

Growing up he was protective of Steve, beating up anyone who bullied the skinny boy, kicking people out of alleys and checking up on his friend.

Then he was protective of his own memories and thoughts, scared of losing them once more and being turned into someone he wasn’t.

He was protective of Sam after he got over his initial annoyance, sending death glares and making snappy comments to anyone who down talked his partner.

Then he met you. You who were sweet and caring, who loved him for who he was and who was the most amazing person he’d ever known. Bucky was very protective of you.

He knew what and who was out there in the world, he knew the lengths people would go to if they ever wanted to hurt him, of course he was protective of you.

Bucky was staying at the compound for a couple nights working on a case with Sam, researching some organization popping up similar to HYDRA. Buckys stomach was in knots, they knew about him, about the winter soldier, could they know about you? what if they tried to hurt you?

He quickly pushed the feelings away, you would be okay, you always were right?

He couldn’t sleep, he had a bad feeling, he needed to be with you. It was nearly 2 am, he didn’t want to bother you.

hi doll can i come over ? cant sleep at the compound :/

You replied quickly, missing your boyfriend despite seeing him only a couple days ago.

of course lover boy

Bucky quickly grabbed some clothes, changing and packing a bag with extra clothes, throwing in a pistol and some knives just in case.

when Bucky arrived he quickly unlocked your door with the key you had given him, locking the door once he had let himself in and headed to your room, seeing you sat up, waiting for him, your eyes bleary.

“sorry for keeping you up doll” he whispered, setting his bag down next to the bed, slipping his shirt and sweats off, slipping under the covers with you, pulling you to his chest softly.

“it’s okay, couldn’t sleep that well anyway, keep hearing noises” you mumbled, body relaxing as you the cold feeling of Buckys metal arm draped around your waist.

“I’m here doll don’t worry” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, focusing on his surroundings, making sure you were safe.

You fell asleep quickly in his arms, breathing steady. Bucky listened to your heartbeat, eyes closing slowly and he let himself fall asleep, holding you a little tighter as he slept.

It was 4:27 am when he heart the jangle of the door being unlocked. Bucky had never shot up faster, slipping out of bed and quickly putting the clothes he had taken off earlier.

“y/n, doll get up now” he spoke quickly, shaking you gently until you woke up.

“hm? what happened?” You slurred, eyes still closed.

“someone’s trying to get in” he spoke softly and your eyes widened, heart racing as you moved quickly, waking up quickly.

“should i hide? what do i do? what if they hurt me? if they kidnap me? am i gonna-” your spoke quickly, panicking.

“doll i would never let anything happen to you. Stay behind me” bucky spoke sternly, his pistol in one hand, handing you a knife.

“Hold this” he spoke, one arm extended behind him, making sure you were safe behind him, the other holding the pistol as the door opened, five men walking into your apartment, armed.

He turned to you, motioning you to stay quiet and to hide in the corner, you quickly followed his directions, holding the knife tightly as you saw Bucky put away his pistol, walking to the living room.

“Breaking and entering is a crime you know” he remarked, the five men turning to look at him, three of them aiming their weapons at him.

“You’re coming with us” one of them spoke and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“No actually I’m not” he snickered, grabbing one mans gun and breaking his nose with the butt, throwing him into two of the other men.

The other two scrambled to shoot at him, he raised his metal arm, blocking the shots and knocking them out with a swift punch, kicking one of them in the chest as they approached him with a pocket knife.

You peeked around the corner, seeing Bucky taking on the five men, fighting them off but struggling at they bombarded him.

You panicked, hiding in the corner again, heart racing as you tried to figure out what to do.

You grabbed the vase to your right, moving quickly and throwing it, causing it to shatter.

The men turned around, Bucky grabbed one of their knives, slicing the back of his thigh, causing the man to fall, shouting in pain.

He kicked one man in the back, sending him out into the hallway, hitting his head on the wall which knocked him out.

There were three men now, two of them constantly ambushing Bucky, letting the third one go to where you threw the vase, your heart rate spiked as you heard the footsteps grow louder, your grip on the knife was tighter, hiding it behind your back.

The man entered the room, his eyes settling in you immediately. He smirked at he approached you, going to grab your arm you shrieked and sliced his arm, running away from the man, but he was quick.

He grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you to him, causing you to hit his chest with a ‘hmph’

You raised the knife to stab him but he was much stronger, easily grabbing your wrist, squeezing you hand causing you to drop the knife, the pressure making you wince.

“Dont fucking touch her!” Bucky growled, something in him snapping as he the man held your wrist tightly, elbowing you in the face as you tried to get free.

His metal arm whirred, and just like that he punched the man on his right, the vibranium causing his nose to break, he fell to the floor quickly. Bucky ducked, avoiding the second mans punch, grabbing a knife from the floor, flipping it and throwing it into the mans abdomen, making him stumble over in pain.

He made quick strides, eyes dark and jaw clenched, his breathing was ragged and he grabbed his forearm with his metal arm, throwing him against the wall easily.

You stumbled out of his grasp and ran to the other side of the room, breathing heavy and hands shaking, eyes wide as Bucky moved his metal hand to the mans throat, holding him up as he chocked him.

“Don’t ever get near her again” he threatened, voice low and raspy. He let go of the man, coughing as gasping for air, Bucky held him to the wall, pinning his throat once again with the forearm of his metal arm.

“Doll go call Sam and tell him to get here now” he spoke, turning to look at you and you nodded quickly, fumbling for your phone and calling Sam.

“you’ve gone soft soldat” the man spoke and Bucky put more pressure on the mans throat, cutting off his hair supply,

“You touched my girl, the only reason you haven’t joined your buddies as a corpse is because we need information” he growled, releasing some pressure to let the man breathe again.

Sam arrived quickly, getting the man for interrogation and bringing some more backup to help with the scene.

“I talked with stark, he said to head back to the compound with y/n, they’re gonna figure it out for tonight” Sam whispered to bucky.

“take care of her she looks shaken up” Sam frowned. You were sat outside on the bench outside your apartment complex, hot tears streaming down your face as you pictured the events. You could’ve died.

You almost had to kill someone.

Bucky killed someone. He killed five people like it was light work.

You remembered the dark look in the mans eyes, like he was planning to hurt you.

“doll?” Bucky spoke and you jumped, flinching at his words. You relaxed as soon as you saw your boyfriend, shrinking back into yourself.

“lets go to the compound okay?” he whispered and you nodded, moving quickly and looking over your shoulder.

You grabbed his hand, holding it tightly the whole ride back, sticking to him closely, not wanting to be alone. The sun was rising already you were beyond exhausted.

“go shower I’ll wait for you here okay? If you need anything just call my name okay doll?” Bucky spoke softly, kissing your forehead. You nodded as he handed your some of his clothes you could change into.

You showered quickly, wanting to be back in Buckys arms where you knew you were safe.

As you finished changing bucky, handed you a plate of food, telling you to eat something while he showered, you nodded with a smile, not trusting your voice.

He tried showering quickly, knowing how scared you must be. You were putting on a brave face, for him. His heart broke, upset you had to see all that. He was furious at the fact that they, whoever the fuck they were put you in danger. He would make sure they all paid for it.

Bucky changed quickly, heading out only to find you wiping your tears quickly, attempting to quiet your sniffles, your food was untouched.

“baby?” He approached you quietly and you turned away from him.

“m sorry i tried to be strong” you spoke shakily, Bucky frowned, pulling you into his chest as you cried.

“let it out sweetheart it’s okay” he whispered, rubbing your back as you choked out quiet sobs.

“i- he was gonna kill me” you spoke between sobs, holding onto your boyfriend tightly, “i thought i could be strong for you but i couldn’t” you cried and he held your tightly.

He was quiet until your cries died down, only soft sniffles. He handed your some tissues and you thanked him, blowing your nose.

Bucky picked you up, carrying you to bed and holding you closely.

“You don’t have to be strong for me sweets, I’m here for you. I’m going to be here all the time and I’m not leaving anytime soon.” He reassured you, your head resting on his chest.

“you protected me” you mumbled, eyes heavy from exhaustion.

“I’ll always protect you” he replied, pulling you closer to him. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you” he stated, your heart thumped in your ears, relaxing a little more at his words.

“I love you” you whispered, looking at him and he smiled, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too doll face” he smiled, kissing your cheek before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“can’t believe you actually took on five guys” you yawned, Bucky furrowed his brows.

“what?” He asked, confused.

“i don’t know, thought you were gonna lose” you mumbled, playing with his fingers.

“doll, you realize I’m a trained assassin? A super soldier? I have a whole metal arm” he stated, almost offended that you thought he would lose.

“Well yeah, but you also cry watching the fox and the hound and are the softest person i know” you replied, furrowing your brows. “I’ve never seen you fight so i wouldn’t know” you shrugged your shoulders.

“i wanted to keep you out of that part of my life, didn’t want you to think any different of me” he shifted, stomach twisting as your stayed quiet.

“i dont” you replied after a few moments, bucky let out a shaky breath. “but” you began, his stomach fell.

“it was kinda hot now that i think about it” you smirked and Buckys mouth fell open.

“wh- y/n!” He smiled at you in surprise and you giggled, looking at him with a small smile.

“i have to find one positive in this okay!” You pouted and he let out a soft chuckle.

“i think you should get the rest sweets” he smiled and you nodded, both of you shifting to get more comfortable, the birds singing outside but you both ignored it.

“y know you could always choke me with the metal arm if you want” you teased and Buckys face flushed red, heart racing.

“y/n!” he scolded you as you smirked, loving to see him flustered.

“gnight lover boy” you giggled and rolled his eyes, kissing the top of your head.

“goodnight doll” he replied, holding you close, protecting you from the world. Nothing was gonna hurt you as long as Bucky was with you.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes angst #protective bucky barnes #protective Bucky #angry!bucky #protective!bucky #Bucky Barnes Drabble #Bucky Barnes one shot

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

tell me again | e. kirishima

➳ tags ;; fem!reader, disgustingly tooth rotting fluff, super cliche confession scene, kinda fuckboy kiri

➳ wc ;; 1.4k

➳ a/n ;; sometimes you just gotta write some corny fucking romance tropes man.

➳ plot ;; after kirishima ghosted you post your confession, you don’t really plan on seeing him again. naturally when he shows up to your dorm during finals week - you’re not exactly sure what to do.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

A knock on the door of your shared dorm room startles you out of a late night study session. At this time of night and during finals week - you don’t find yourself to be all that excited for whoever's at the other side. Your R.A., Iida is known for being a stickler and whatever news he brings won’t be good.

You look over your shoulder at Mina, who instead of studying, has been playing 2048 on her laptop for the last hour. She looks back at you with an exasperated sigh leaving her lips, promptly pushing her laptop to the side.

“Why is it always me who answers the door?” she groans.

“Because you chose to study business,” you reply without missing a beat. She flips her middle finger off at you without a second thought but your nose is too deeply buried into your materials for you to care.

The knocking gets more frantic as the seconds pass.

“Coming!” she shouts it, irritation already filling her at whoever would be on the otherside. She swings it open, irritated beyond belief. In the midst of her preparing to cuss out whoever was on the other side at this hour, only a quarter of her sentence makes it out of her mouth.

“Who the hell is -,” she stumbles, pauses. The words don’t even halfway make it out of her mouth before she blinks twice before stumbling back “Kirishima?”

At this, your head snaps up to look behind you. You know you’re not visible from the door way, your desk opposite of view but you look anyway. You can’t see him but you can hear his voice.

“Mina, hey - uh, is Y/N here? It’s uhm.. shit, I need to,”

Mina crosses her arms above her chest, blocking Kirishima when he tries to look over her shoulder. You’re frozen in place and you think anyone in your position would be.

Your.. relationship with Kirishima is complicated at best. You’d know him since you were freshman and after this semester, you’d managed to work out the courage to confess your feelings to him. You were certain he felt them back for you, ignoring his somewhat notorious reputation in hopes he was being genuine. He seemed awfully genuine to you.

As it would be, you were met with rejection. It hurt but you weren’t worried about it either way. What you wanted was to remain friends, because Kirishima is awfully important to you. A confession shouldn’tve had made so much of a difference. You wished that’d been the case, anyway.

But he.. left you like that. Left your friendship at the weird wits end where even when you saw each other on campus or elsewhere - there was no greeting. No hello or how are you. Uncomfortably, you faded into being strangers and you haven’t spoken to him in months.

“She’s not here,”

Kirishima’s face twists up at the words. He looks over, just peers and shakes his head.

“I can see the little colored lights that she keeps on to focus are on. I know she’s here. Please just let me talk to her,”

Mina turns her head slightly to make eye-contact with you. You shake your head softly, uninterested in what he has to say. Your heart feels too heavy. You know it’s kind of stupid but the wound feels fresh. Never-ending in how it aches.

Mina doesn’t budge.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Fuck off back to your dorm and leave us alone,”

Mina pushes in on the door but he sighs, sticking his hand in even when she pushes in on it. He curses under his breath at the weight of it on his hand. Mina’s eyes go wide.

“What the fuck are you -”

“I know you can hear so I’ll just say it, shit” ― he curses under his breath but you catch ― “Even if Mina crushes my hand, please don’t though. You both know I don’t have health insurance,”

You crack a warbly smile at the comment and Mina lets up but doesn’t open the door up. She keeps her hand steady on his, letting him writhe in mild pain.

“I love you,”

You freeze and so does Mina. Kirishima rests his forehead on the door with a soft sigh. Your heart skips a beat or two. You can’t keep track.

“I know I fucked this up like.. really bad. When you told me you had feelings for me, at first it was.. I don’t know. It was like I couldn’t believe you,”

You bite back tears as you listen to him. He can hear people in the rest of the dorm start to peek out but he doesn’t seem to stop.

“Shit, it was you. Not be corny but fuck like.. how the hell could I ever believed you liked me? Of all people, you chose me with a shitty fuckboy reputation and stupid haircut,” he laughs a little at this and so do you.

“Kirishima..” Mina mumbles

“It was too much. Like you’re so.. so much. But not in a bad way. Like the idea of being with you was just so damn overwhelming. And Bakugou told me not to be an idiot and ghost you but I was just so.. so scared,”

You can hear the way his voice shakes.

“I’ve never been with anyone seriously before and I’m kind of an idiot and I didn’t wanna fuck it all up. Like what if you realize half-way that it’s not me you want? What if.. what if we started dating and you realized that it was some kind of mistake?”

“Eijirou...”

He smiles a little. The sound of your voice is soft like he remembers. He thinks it might be worth Mina breaking his hand if he gets to see you.

“It was easier to break it off before it got serious, that’s what I thought. But then we didn’t talk for a few months and I was goin fuckin’ crazy thinking about you,” ― he laughs at the memory, drunk and dizzy from it ― “You don’t think you can miss one person so much. That just one person could mean so much to you.. like you’re incomplete without them there,’

You sniffle, wiping tears you hadn’t realized had fallen from your cheeks.

“I think I’m in too deep. It was already too serious. I already.. loved you. I thought it’d be better if I just fucking.. ran here and told you,” ― Mina opens the door up and steps to one side as you stumble towards it, tear eyed and in loose pajamas. Not confession ready in the least ― “I thought maybe I’d get lucky and I’d have a chance of you at least.. forgiving me. Maybe if I was really lucky, you’d still like me too,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at you, mouth curved into a half smile. So sincere, like always. You wonder to yourself if there would ever be a way to love him less.

“So uhm.. I’m sorry. And I love you.. and it’d be sick if you like.. loved me back but it’s not necessary. I’ll do whatever you want just.. I dunno. Be in my life again, maybe?”

You run into his arms but he catches you. You’re a half conscious mess, sniffling into him as you punch his shoulder. He chuckles but hugs you back, wincing as you hit him.

“Of course I love you, you stupid asshole,” ― you whine, hugging him even tighter ― “Your timing is shit, y’know that? Stupid -”

He pulls back and leans into you. Lets his mouth bump into yours clumsily until you melt into a placating kiss. It’s all too much Kirishima - a gentle swipe of tongue and sharp teeth. Sweet but not enough. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth. He’s too good at that, you think.

“I know, but.. that’s why you like me right?”

You roll your eyes, opting to keep clinging to him instead of replying. From behind you, Mina sighs.

“I’m glad you stopped being a jackass but how the hell did you make it up here without Iida noticing,”

From outside, there’s two loud but distinct voices. It’s Kaminari, screaming and Iida screaming back. When Mina walks over to peer outside, she catches an eyeful of a very naked and very drunk blonde. She cackles.

“Uh.. I’ll just say I owe Kami a ton of money right mow,”

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

#kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #this is so SO fucking cheesy #LMFAO #it was fun to write tho

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watevermelon · 3 years

Text

✧ MSBY Soulmate!Atsumu x Reader

➳ Summary: You knew all about his personality, whether through the rumor vine or the numerous warnings your friends gave you. But there was no avoiding it - he was your soulmate after all.

➳ fluff; mutual pining; small jealousy; slight angst with a happy ending ➳ Navigation

—-xXxXxXxXxXx—–

When he first met you, Atsumu hadn’t wanted to hear it.

This was in the prime of his life, being scouted for a Division 1 volleyball team was his life-goal and the only thing standing in his way was the upcoming Olympics. Which, of course, he was rumored to be included on as well.

Even back in high school, there were tons of fans and girls alike who would willingly fall to his feet. Regardless of his reputation, they were eager to share a single night despite knowing it would probably be their last. And Atsumu reveled in the excitement of the attention, feeding off the cheers and shallow admiration many threw at him both on the court and in the bedroom.

Atsumu didn’t want a soulmate, someone whom he was shackled to for the rest of his life.

No, initially he didn’t want you.

As for you, the feeling was mutual to a degree. Soulmates were a touchy topic for many, conversations about colors and contrast was something you could not personally relate to. The moment you met your soulmate, it was described to you as suddenly bathing your entire life in color.

A part of you was curious about your soulmate, where he was in the world, what was he doing and who he was with. But never had you centered your life around it, more like a passive curiosity that you hoped would one day be satiated.

You were a student of Inarizaki during its prime, the members of the volleyball team very popular among the student body. You had made acquaintances with Osamu and Suna through one or two classes, but never were you particularly close to them.

Your close friends often warned you about the leader of their trio anyway - Atsumu Miya and his drove of fuckboy energy.

There was no doubt that the twin had multiple fan-clubs and obsessive flings surrounding him. You remembered once feeling sympathetic for his soulmate - thinking about how hard it would be to get him to saddle down to a single person. Especially, with the way he lived his life, it seemed the setter could care less about the concept of soulmates to begin with.

No, Atsumu would be a terrible soulmate for whoever was unfortunately linked to him by the red string of fate.

And while he was admittedly very handsome, you did not particularly care about the setter to actively reach out to him.

Besides, it was not like he even knew who you were to begin with.

The years went by and any thoughts you had about the setter were filed away in the quiet recesses of your mind, only appearing once in a while when Miya Atsumu showed up on some article or newspaper cover for something regarding volleyball. You were silently proud of his accomplishments and representing your school and perfecture, achieving his dream and all, but hadn’t particularly cared about him in the first place.

That was all until one day, you walked into Onigiri Miya years later.

Even though Osamu was the quieter twin, he either had a good memory or was oddly sentimental, since he remembered your name immediately when you took a seat at the bar.

“I see the years have treated ya well.” Osamu started casually, almost making you blush at how the twin could say something like that as if totally normal between old friends. “How’ve ya been doin’?”

“I’ve been working in the city, just something temporary while I finish grad school.”

“Ah, you’ve always been smart.” He complimented.

“Nothing compared to you though.” You countered, “You look really happy doing this. And you have a few branches opening, I heard.”

“Keepin’ tabs on me?” He baited.

“Just like hearing about the success of our classmates.” You shrugged.

You were sure Osamu had something sassy to say back to you before he got called away by another customer. He motioned for you to stay as he walked to the other side.

Your eyes followed him for a few seconds, watching how despite working around food constantly, he still had an athletic build after all these years.

(Really, the dude was built like a dorito chip.)

And while you would have liked to stay and flirt with the pretty onigiri twin, a similar voice started from the door. A light chime signaling the front door opening, you heard a greeting toward Osamu, making you turn in your seat in interest.

Only to double-over in surprise as your world was suddenly too bright.

You had no time, not even seconds to get your bearings. Your life of white and black tones was suddenly full - the table covers were black and red, the plants at the windowsill were green with different arrangements of orange. You took in your surroundings quickly, soaking up colors for the first time in your life.

It seemed the other man was just as surprised, cursing as he went before you lifted your eyes simultaneously to look each other in the eyes once more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Atsumu asked under his breath, but you heard it all the same.

What on earth could you possibly say to that?

Within seconds, the situation was whirling around in your brain that this was possibly the worst possible moment of your life.

You were soulmates that didn’t want each other - for opposite reasons, surely. You did not want to be with Atsumu since he was too much of a player to take the concept seriously and attempting anything with him would only result in heartache. And Atsumu didn’t want you because he surely had an endless amount of women he would rather be with.

“That’s what a girl wants to hear.” You countered as you crossed your arms.

You hadn't expected your first meeting with your soulmate to be met with expletives and it seemed Atsumu finally remembered a semblance of his manners.

“Sorry, ya caught me off-guard.” He started, “Now ain’t the greatest time for me.”

“Oh boy.” You murmured as you turned back in your seat at the bar, Atsumu taking the open one next to you.

“Wait, (L/N)? From Inarizaki?” Atsumu asked after he motioned toward Osamu in greeting.

“That’s me.” You formally introduced yourself, extending a hand out to him. He regarded you quietly before taking his phone out for you to take and put your number in.

“I knew it, I don’t forget a pretty face like yers after all.” Atsumu smoothly said. This was your soulmate and all you felt in response was resentment, thinking about all the women he probably used that line with. You handed him back his phone as he continued, “Wow, look at ya all grown up.”

“And look at you, a professional volleyball player.”

Atsumu looked at you with a critical eye, not one that you could really decipher, but it was clear he was looking at you very thoroughly. “Been to one’ve my games before?”

“Only a few times in high school.” You replied, facing his stare head-on as his smirk only widened. You weren’t sure what this was, but with a player like Atsumu, you were sure he was already sizing you up in a way you didn’t want.

Something told you that if you looked away, you would lose.

And so you held your ground, matching his intense stare as your onigiri meal waited for you at the bar-side.

Thankfully, his name was called out by his twin and Atsumu’s attention was grabbed away before you could break.

“I didn’t know ya knew each other?” Osamu started as he returned, a glass in hand as he wiped it dry with a towel.

“We don’t.” You said instead.

Atsumu’s smirk tightened as he answered, “Just found out we’re soulmates, actually.”

Osamu put the glass down and turned to you, “'Tsumu fucking with me?”

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered.

“Unfortunately?” Atsumu emphasized as he turned to you more fully, the infuriating smirk still on his face for some reason, “I’ll have ya know that Imma great catch.”

“Debatable.” Osamu countered.

You laughed at his quip before looking at Atsumu, “Yeah, but I’m sure you don’t even want to be ‘caught,’ right?” You shot-back at the setter, “Unless you’re going to try to convince me that you still don’t want to entertain the droves of women at your feet?”

“Think ya have me all figured out?” Atsumu asked as he leaned closer to you, a quirked brow on his face. You looked toward Osamu who looked strangely amused, eyes going between you and Atsumu.

“I think I know enough to know why ‘now ain’t the greatest time’ for you.” You replied sassily as you shot back his first words to you, pushing at his chest to give back your personal space.

Atsumu just took your hand and put it in his own, calling your bluff. “Oh? Like how my time and attention are on Olympics while I’d rather treat my baby properly?”

“Oh god.” You said as you laughed.

You laughed.

To his face?

All the setter could think about was how interesting you were.

He had expected his soulmate to ‘fall at his feet’ as many had in the past. To cling to him for attention and to demand an exclusive shackle to them. But here you were: beautiful and independent and even physically pushing him away.

You grabbed your hand out of his light embrace and turned back to your food, smiling at what you thought was just another line he would feed to his other one-night stands. Atsumu bit his lip in frustration and looked briefly at Osamu, who was watching the two of you like his own personal source of humor.

If you were any other girl, Atsumu would wave you off. Say that he didn’t have time for one girl who didn’t care, he had dozens who would willingly take the spot instead.

But you weren’t just any other girl, you were his soulmate.

And he could already feel the strange draw towards you.

Not even a few months ago he would scoff at the supposed soulmate bond. All the other members of the Black Jackals had found their other half and what they ranted on and on about made him sick. Bokuto somehow found a way to insert something about Akaashi at almost every conversation and Atsumu would constantly catch Hinata, even during midgame, staring at Kageyama.

They sickened him.

And yet somehow he now understood.

Seeing his soulmate before him, you were one of the first few people in a while that he felt like he had to prove himself to. There was probably an endless amount of expectation against him, he was sure. Being old classmates and seeing his name on a tabloid almost every other month would definitely do that.

And somehow only minutes into speaking to his soulmate, Atsumu wanted something different.

“I could always prove it to ya.” He shot toward you, making you laugh again.

Alright, this shit ain’t gonna cut it.

Atsumu licked at his bottom lip before pulling your bar stool closer to his, relishing in the way your eyes widened in surprise as he did so. “Come on, ya lookin’ at yer soulmate. Just say what we both want and we can leave here together right now.”

You shot him back an incredulous expression, a challenging look in your eye as he put the ball in your court. It was strange to feed off the provocation of someone else; a new type of adrenaline in him as he wanted to get to know you.

“Sorry, but I’d rather not leave with a man who has hickies down his neck from some other woman.”

Atsumu almost felt himself click his tongue in frustration, but you were not exactly wrong. Just a few hours ago he was inside someone he couldn’t even name with a gun to his head, but that was a world before you.

A world before color and the sassy soulmate who seemed to want nothing to do with him.

And while Atsumu wanted to prod a bit more, or at least get you to concede that he was the greatest option in the world, his phone rang out with Sakusa’s icon flashing on the screen.

Your eyes were drawn to the noise and you commented, “I’m sure you already have plans today anyway.”

Dashing that thought away, he lifted his phone to your eyes and showcased the proof to you. “Think again, my teammate is on the other line ready to chew my ass out.”

“Oh.” That shut you up, before shrugging and turning back to your food, “Well, I’ll see you around Atsumu.”

He leaned toward you, lips dropping beside your ear and lightly stating, “Keep ya schedule open this week.”

You hesitated for a second before saying, “Maybe.”

Atsumu answered the call and started gathering his things, his thoughts only half on Sakusa as the spiker complained about his cleaning habits in the locker room.

“We should probably exchange numbers again.” Osamu took out his phone, motioning it in your direction.

You took it with a smile, to which Atsumu scowled and made a point of reminding his twin. “Yer better know she’s my soulmate.”

Osamu sighed outwardly and you just laughed adding, “And he’s the better twin afterall.”

Atsumu’s eyes darkened, phone completely forgotten as he took a step toward you, “I’ll remind you later who really is the better twin.”

He made it so easy to tease him, to challenge the world Atsumu built-up around him. You wanted to break it for some reason, to knock him down a peg for being stuck with a player as a soulmate.

And so you shot back, “I’d like to see you try.”

Atsumu smirked as his hand casually grazed up your thigh and squeezed at the skin there. “That’s a promise.”

He shot both of you goodbye’s before returning to his phone call and walking out the door. Atsumu had the last word for now, but you weren’t going to fall to his feet so easily. Turning back to Osamu was no help either, his expression amused as he watched the entire moment play-out.

“An here I was wantin’ to ask ya out.” Osamu stated plainly before shrugging as you sat still in your chair at the irony.

You expected that to be the last you’d see of Atsumu for a while - weeks or months or maybe even years as he entertained the long list of women that would be much easier to maintain than a soulmate.

He called you the next day, inviting you over for dinner and a movie before the weekend started.

You steeled your spine, telling yourself that the gorgeous setter was not going to get to you in a single night. He lived on the better side of Tokyo, just his zip-code alone was a flex of his wallet. And so when you reached his penthouse floor, you took a deep breath in the elevator before you entered his domain.

Again, you expected him to make good on his promise before, to make a move and prove to you that he was a playboy, asshole that you knew from high-school, but instead you had a pleasant first night.

Atsumu Miya entertained you with a home-cooked meal of all things, the two of you sat across from each other at his mahogany dining table.

“Who would’ve thought you would know how to cook well?”

“Ya know who my brother is?” Atsumu joked, “As if 'Samu will me live if I was an ass in the kitchen.”

“Of course, you’re just an ass in other places then.” You shot back, receiving a playful look of offense from the setter, before continuing. “But this tasted amazing, so thank you.”

Atsumu had that smirking expression on his face, like he was carefully watching you, picking you apart in his mind as he thought about the next ten moves in this strange game.

The setter put a hand on your knee under the table and you expected that to be the move, for it to slide up the rest of the way. But instead he tapped the area twice before he stood, grabbing your empty plates and motioning for you to go to the living room.

“Why dont’cha get comfortable for the movie while I wash these?”

You weren’t disappointed, per se.

Just surprised, if anything.

And the night continued on just as tamely, playful and even flirty banter between the two of you over the action movie that played out. At one point he draped a casual arm across the back of the couch, resting his hand on your shoulder and pulling you to lean against him.

You had witty banter back and forth and when the movie finally ended, Atsumu commented how it was getting late. Surprised again, you took the out and allowed him to call a car for you. Atsumu walked you down to the street and only when he was opening the door for you, did he lightly pull you at the waist to chastely move your lips together.

Lasting only seconds, he pulled away just as quickly and ushered you into the car and whispered in your ear, “See you soon, (F/N).

Everything you had expected of the playboy you thought you knew was shattered, no sudden move to get you on your back on his bedsheets. Yes, he still said plenty of flirty things to you, but he had yet to actually act on it. Was that simply a bluff before? Or was he playing a longer game to get you off the defensive?

“Yer so cute, (F/N).” Atsumu complimented you once as you lounged on his couch another day, “There are days I can barely keep my hands off ya.”

And before you could recognize how quickly your life was changing, that first initial date snowballed into more dates and somehow you had gotten to the point where you would visit his place fairly often. Whether for dinner or a simple hangout, it seemed Atsumu was keen on inserting himself into your life little by little.

And somewhere along the way, you started to doubt your earlier musings of a fuck boy with no regard for a soulmate. Maybe he had changed from high school? Or maybe, he had changed when he met you?

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

He had convinced you one night, when you came over for dinner or whatever it must have been, when it started to absolutely downpour outside. He insisted that he did not feel safe sending you home in this weather, to which you countered that you had travelled in worse.

That did little to subdue his worries and instead you found yourself in an oversized jersey getting tucked into his bed that night.

“What’s that face about?” He asked as you laid there together, bed sheets up to your shoulders as he placed an arm beneath your head.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

You thought the first time you’d ever see his bedsheets would be when he was inside of you, not tamely laying beside you and kissing your forehead goodnight. And when he pulled you closer to him, cuddling you to sleep that night, that was one of the safest times you had ever felt.

If this was just a game, if you were just another one of his girls, he would have made a move that night, right?

And so you believed that Atsumu was honestly as earnest in his actions as he said, trying to get to know you for you. Not because you were just another woman to put as a notch on his bedpost, but because he was genuinely interested in you.

That was until you saw the first dating scandal since you had met the setter.

He had plenty of other scandals before this, many women had been attached to his name before, but never had you cared in the past because that was simply his reputation and you barely knew him. But now you had an active role in his life, how could you not know about some woman he was apparently also spending time with?

You did not want to believe some random tabloids over the trust of your soulmate. At least, that was until one day you overheard Atsumu on the phone with his twin.

“Listen, I took out (F/N) that first time cause ya told me to.”

That shit hurted.

The entire foundation of your relationship was based on the fact that his twin pressured him into getting to know you? Did Atsumu even want to get to know you in the first place? Was he really playing with your feelings this whole time?

You turned and went back to his living room, filing this away in your mind as you took a seat. If Atsumu didn’t actually want you in his life, then you would surely give him the space he wanted to begin with.

But you had missed the rest of that phone conversation.

“But I feel like I’ve already fallen for her. I don’t know, she’s different. Ya, ya. I know, I won’t fuck it up this time.”

And so you resolved to put between each other the space he wanted initially.

When you first met, he was pretty vocal about not wanting a soulmate at the time. But he had convinced you along the way, that maybe this was something the both of you wanted.

You were wrong.

Phone calls went ignored and you stopped replying to texts after a few curt replies. You needed distance if you were going to get over Miya Atsumu and his inevitable line of one-night stands.

Your soulmate was supposed to be the one person in the world who completed you, who understood you whole and made you feel loved. And while you were on the precipice of those feelings, it all quickly came crashing down with reality.

Atsumu Miya did not want you.

One night, as you were studying for grad-school, you were working on your part of the group project and were expecting a call any moment now from your other partners.

When the phone rang out, you picked it up without regard to the name on the screen until it was too late.

“Hey, (F/N)? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” Atsumu’s voice started immediately and it was not like you could hang-up on him now.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy trying to make rent, y’know. Not everyone can be a world-renowned professional athlete.”

There was a small pause on his end before, “... you could always stay with me if you have financial problems.”

What?

Why would he offer that? Just to make you suffer when he brought other women home?

“Don’t say things you’ll regret, haha.” You try to put back that earlier distance, “I’m sure you have a laundry list of girls who are eager to hear back from you after all.”

“What? (F/N), that’s not--”

You cut him off there, “Listen, I’m waiting on a couple people for a school thing. I’ll see you around, Miya-san.”

Miya-san.

Where had he fucked up?

In the weeks Atsumu had gotten to know you, it was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t felt for anyone. It was like the unspoken bond crap that Kita had explained to him in high school or that Suna, who recently found his own soulmate, raved about was actually real.

For the first time in his life he wanted to spend time with a woman for longer than a single night. He wanted to bring you home, kiss you good morning, and possibly have a home with both your names on the mailbox.

And while not even a few months ago he would have scoffed at shit like that, Atsumu wanted it and felt that for the first time it was in his grasp.

So where did he go wrong?

The last thing he ever wanted to do was actually make you feel unwanted and he feared that his initial words might have sparked something within you.

It was no surprise when Atsumu showed up at your apartment unannounced the next day.

Not expecting any company, you waltzed over to the door, thinking it might be a package delivery, and opened it in your pajamas.

Atsumu walked right past you and into the living room, words striking with the specificity of a cobra. “Are you just fucking with me?”

You sputtered before closing the door, “What?

He ran a stressed hand through his hair, but maintained eye-contact with you. “Yer my soulmate and I wanna get to know you. Am I alone in wantin’ this?”

“Shouldn’t I ask that of you?” You shot back, “You made it clear as day that you didn't want me as your soulmate to begin with!”

Atsumu sighed and took a step closer to you, closing the distance to lightly grab at your elbows. “For fucks sake, that was months ago. Don’t tell me that all that time together meant nothin’ to you?”

“Of course it meant something to me!” You exclaimed back, before pushing at his chest while he did not budge a single inch away. “Don’t act like I’m the one half-assed in this.”

He scowled back, “What is that suppos’ed to mean?”

You did not hesitate, "I know you only spent time with me because Osamu told you to.”

Atsumu recoiled in surprise and you took that as your escape, pushing his lingering hands away as you made for the kitchen. But the setter was out of his stupor quickly, trailing behind you.

“Fuck, what did ‘Samu tell you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything, I found out the truth myself.”

You could tell Atsumu’s stress level was skyrocketing, from the way his hair was mused without care and angled strangely in certain ways.

“Ya got it all wrong, it was just that first time!” Atsumu replied right behind you.

“What do you mean?”

“‘Samu was the one who told me to call ya the next day, but I was going to eventually ‘cause I wanted to get to know ya myself.”

You slowly took in his words, but it was hard to make any sort of decision with the setter right in front of you. A part of you, one that attributed it to the soulmate bond, was basically begging you to forgive him and wrap yourself in his embrace. That part wanted to feel those muscular arms around you once again, to feel safe in the arms of the one person in the universe meant for you.

But, afraid of getting hurt and without much argue left within you, you tossed back. “Yeah, eventually.”

Atsumu put a strong grip on your waist, holding you there in place before you could run away again.“‘Samu told me to, but I could’ave easily not done nothin’ that first night or any time after.”

You bit your lip at his words, Atsumu was laying all his cards on the table and he wanted a response from you.

And he wanted it now.

“Please, ya know me better by now.” Atsumu turned you in place to face him, leaning down to whisper his words against your forehead. “I know Imma bad deal - I can’t imagine what ya thought of me back in high school and even earlier this year. I have a bad history and an even worse reputation.”

“But after just a few weeks, I don’t want ya out of my life ever again. Just hearin’ ya call me by my last name yesterday nearly killed me.” Atsumu continued, trailing his lips further down until your foreheads were touching, “Lets give this a try - a real one. Give me the chance to make you happy for the rest of our lives.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the insistent inner tug on your heart and how the setter was encompassing all your thoughts. “Atsumu… I--”

“Stop overthinkin’.” He interrupted, “I don’t want to bombard you. But I promise I won’t ever purposely hurt you.”

You took in a harsh breath, wondering how on earth this could be the same Miya Atsumu who plagued your high school. He had changed, not just from then but from the short amount of time you had already shared together. Opening your eyes slowly, Atsumu was still clutching you around the waist, but his eyes were carefully scanning your expression.

“Okay.”

You replied, leaning into his touch more as the smile on the setter’s face widened.

He did not waste a single moment, leaning down to capture your lips with his. You stood surprised for a second, before pushing up to meet his gentle touches. There was no sudden epiphany, no instant speech of undying love after. But there was no denying the harsh flutter intensifying after every inflamed touch.

Your heart pounded hard in your chest as you leaned more into the setter, knees going weak as his tongue roamed your open mouth. Your only focus was on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictive it was to have Atsumu invaded all your senses. From the intense smell of his cologne to the light tickle of his blond hair against your head, Atsumu was dominating your every feeling.

And so it was quite a surprise when Atsumu gave you one final peck, before moving to your forehead and placing a light butterfly kiss there and backing off entirely.

“Fuck, just look at you.” He commented as he leaned back, looking at you up and down. There was no doubt the sight that greeted him, you messy with drool, tousled hair, and rumpled clothing. “Even in your sheep pajamas, it’s hard for me to keep my hands off ya.”

Your blush intensified at his words, putting a playful hand on his chest and muttering a small, “Shut up.”

“Never.” He quipped back, putting another kiss on your forehead before pulling away, only your hands still joined. “Now let’s get your apartment packed.”

“What?” You asked, confused. Your mind was still nothing more than a cup of spilled milk after Atsumu had all but ravaged your senses.

He smiled before pulling you back to your living room. You followed wordlessly, his previous statements slowly pouring into your brain after the intense liplock. It was hard to focus on anything when the attractive setter was making a point to kiss you at an open chance.

“As in packed to move in with me.”

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Missed

Loki x reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: LOKI EPISODE 1 SPOILERS

Author’s Note: I literally saved this request to do after I saw the first episode besties and it was AMAZING!!!! I usually do my requests in the order I received them but I had to post this one now lol Loki supremacy

Requested: by anon, Sooo I'd love to request a short where the s/n meets the other timeline Loki and she had a relationship with the one who died in infinity war, I imagined a few lines from favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo, I hope it's fine ♥️ thanks love, I really love your writing!

Summary: When Loki looks back at his memories he is happy to see you there. Then you happen to be at TVA as well.

Genre: angst then fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Loki was confused. He was confused and he didn’t like to be confused. He would much have preferred that he go wherever the Avengers had planned for him, especially if it meant back to Asgard. But instead he stood in front of a little device that held his every memory, confused and angry and worst of all, scared.

Memory and future.

He was almost nervous to see what else was there. His mother dying had been bad enough, what else would he have to watch?

But he did it regardless. The scenes in front of him started with Odin, telling him and Thor that he loved him just before dying. A pit formed in his stomach and he started to choke up. That was all he ever wanted to hear. Then Thor, telling him that he wasn’t all that bad. His brother liked him, his brother didn’t see him as a villain.

Then you.

You were smiling. How he loved and missed you. He had left you on Asgard and he truly didn’t mean to. Knowing that you were in his future made him smile. He let the small bit of tears he had fall down his cheek.

“You know I’ve always loved you right? Even when people told me you were the bad guy. You’re my favorite crime Loki”

Loki’s eyes closed for a minute, letting those words sync in, knowing that you meant it. Then the memories moved on to a couple more of Thor and him. The three of you and a woman he didn’t recognize teaming up.

And then his face was illuminated with blue as Thanos picked him up. He stood up quickly moving toward the screen.

There was a quick flash to Thor, being held down and then back to Loki as he took his final words and last breath.

The screen then changed to Thor over his body and you, shaking him, screaming for him to wake up. Your voice was raw with pain.

The file ended.

Loki didn’t know what to think at first. All he could do was wonder if that was it. How could that be it? That couldn’t be all that he was meant to do in his life. He couldn’t have his time cut off, right when he was getting to a place where he thought he belonged, could he?

The door opened and he figured it was a person coming to get him. He started to laugh dryly, shaking his head slightly.

“Burdened for glorious purpose,” he muttered before turning around.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

You.

You in the same uniform he was in, the same collar.

“Is this some kind of cruel trick?” he asked, not taking a step forward. He regretted the words when he said it because he saw the tears in your eyes. You ran up to him, throwing your arms around him. It almost knocked him over but he stayed steady, wrapping his arms around you. You smelled the same as he remembered.

“I thought I had lost you,” you said, crying desperately. You pulled away and he wiped your eyes carefully. That was when you noticed that his hair was shorter than it had been. His face just a little younger. “Loki?”

“I don’t believe I’m the Loki you knew.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I picked up the tesseract when the Avengers went back in time,” he explained. Your eyes went wide as you composed yourself.

“So you were just picked up after trying to take over New York?” He nodded. You let out a small breath and smiled a tad. “So young.”

“I suppose you are the person who cried over my dead body.”

“You saw that?” He nodded solemly.

“I am sorry you had to see it,” he said gently. Seeing you, a familiar face made him want to jump for joy.

“I knew I would see you again,” you said matter of factly. “You promised I would see you again.” You hugged him again and he breathed you in.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was very kind. He had always been kind to you his voice now reminded you of when you were just children and the innocence hadn’t been stolen from him yet.

“I apparently made the wrong choice somewhere and it wasn’t the right timeline. Last thing I remember, Thanos had just been defeated. Maybe I was meant to die. Either way, I’m glad I disobyed the time lords.” You grabbed his hands and held them tightly. “We have to get out of here.”

“I can’t use my magic.”

“Me neither. Come on, we’re smarter than this. We can out run Mobius and whoever else comes for us,” you explained.

“I believe this is the highest power,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“I thought you were the highest power.” He smiled.

“It’s great to see you.” You kissed him. He leaned forward and you molded your bodies together, like you did every time you kissed. When you pulled away you had a determined look on your face.

“Believe me, it’s even better to see you. Now come on, we have to find a way out of here.”

“Are you going to fight your way out using only your wits?” he teased as he started to walk behind you.

“I have some combat training, thank you very much.”

“Yes, that combat training you took with me where we did anything but combat.” You nudged him.

“Perhaps we should watch that back in our memories. It was a glorious evening.”

“My point exactly. How do you think we can get out of here without magic?” You turned to him, stopping.

“Stop asking questions. We have never had a plan in our lives. Why now do you think we need one?” He wanted to kiss you again but refrained.

“Odin's beard I’ve missed you.”

#loki x reader #loki spoilers #loki show spoilers #loki imagines

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songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’) and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And -

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar.

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him.

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned.

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is!

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does?

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.”

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat.

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response.

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different.

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth.

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation.

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more.

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #best friend!harry styles #loose ankles #lol #one of my fav things ive written #i got carried away during the smut.... sorry

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ashiemochi · 2 years

Text

aphrotitty - xlvii☢

✠ Aphrotitty ↳ Don’t do anything stupid ↳↳ does something stupid

~~ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ~~ genre: fluff, a slice of life, angst, gore at some point, smut/suggestive themes ~~ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

☢ Warning: even more zombies, mentions of blood/gore, Mr X being impatient, so ah being smol and fast, shit action Irdk what I'm writing </3.

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The dangling star on So Ah’s bracelet began subtly blinking and she didn’t notice, focused on sneaking down the stairs to the 13th floor. Besides, her jacket’s sleeves were a bit long anyway and it’s not like the first thing to come to one’s mind at a blinking bracelet is a tracking device.

So Ah peered down the corridor, seeing rotten bodies on the ground. Shuddering at the bloody sight, she jogged lightly down the hall and went straight to the secretary’s desk. The emails were on but the recent ones were completely wiped out and she grumbled at that.

“Of course this only has to get harder...” She mumbled to herself, not quite surprised before gripping her axe as she cautiously stepped over the bodies, heading to Frederic’s office. She tried her best not to disturb their ‘beauty sleep’ except they looked ugly as shit and they weren’t asleep.

Hopefully, they were truly dead but she knew that was a far-fetched wish at this point.

Reaching Frederic’s office, she unlocked it with her override key and entered, shutting the door behind her. She set the axe down and made her way to his desk.

The entirety of the room was too clean and the files on the shelves were work-related – the non-suspicious ones at least. The large glass walls over-showed the GreenHouse that seemed abandoned from her place with some greeneries being dark and brown.

Pursing her lips at the locked computer, she glanced down to see a sticky notepad stuck to the CPU and peeled it off with confused eyes.

Do not forget; there’s an underground laboratory that is only accessed through the fountain in the GreenHouse. There’s a passageway that would lead you straight to the lab. Do not forget. Do not forget.

She tilted her head at the note; whoever wrote this must’ve had a really bad memory.

“Underground lab...” She hummed in curiosity then looked down at the GreenHouse and indeed there was a big water fountain in the middle that most likely had a pipe system to keep every plant nourished.

“Okay, do–”

The telephone ringing made her jolt a foot in the air, not expecting such a thing to happen in this situation. Hesitantly, So Ah answered it, pressing it against her ear with furrowed brows.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God, Miss Han – you’re safe.”

She blinked at this, straightening up instantly at the familiar voice, “Frederic?”

“Yes, I can’t believe I finally reached you – what – why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“Oh, uhm – It died...” She muttered, scratching the back of her neck as her eyes stayed down at the note. Frederic let out a breathily chuckle that seemed gentle.

“Your luck must be really bad – losing the only form of communication in this circumstance.”

“Yeah.” She giggled, letting out a sigh as she sat down on the chair to relish this small reunion moment, “Wait, have you seen my parents? They called me and–”

“I know...” Frederic breathed out, “I’ve tried calling them too but it didn’t go through. You think their battery’s dead too?”

An uncontrollable chuckle left through her lips at this light-hearted joke, “No, I don’t think so.”

She frowned, recalling the horror in their voices as they spoke over one another, “They... They seemed in trouble – like they were chased by something...”

It was silent for a while on the other end and she could practically imagine him deep in thoughts about the situation at hand.

“So Ah, it’s dangerous where you are, alright? I need you to go down to the GreenHouse where there’s–”

“An underground lab.”

“How – how do you know that?”

“I – well, I found a note in your office...”

“Ah... Right...” He let out a chuckle, seemingly amused, “Okay, I can see you through the camera now – oh dear, is that an axe?”

She glanced at the bloody axe then back up where she located the camera in the corner, giving him a half-coy smile, “I had to protect myself one way or another. Leon told me to aim–”

“Leon S. Kennedy? From the DSO?” She stilled for a second at the tone in his voice; it seemed frightened.

“Uhm, yeah... You’ve met him before.”

“Listen, do not trust anyone. Those BSAA and DSO bastards along with that lady in red only want to steal our work. We should not let that happen.”

She blinked at the hurried tone in his voice, feeling on edge at that last bit, “Lady in red?”

“I’ll explain everything in the lab, I promise. Just head there and use the gates. The code is 1-9-9-8.”

✠✠

Bullets clunk on the floor just as the last zombie fell down. Chris reloaded his rifle as Piers scanned the corridor from afar.

“Why don’t we continue on up? Didn’t you say she was heading to her parents’ office?” Piers questioned his captain who thoroughly looked into rooms from a distance, making sure no dead walkers would pounce on them whilst searching for a certain suspect.

“There was a bloody handprint on the railing outside – look.” Chris shone his light onto a deaddead body with the head cracked open, “Unless these bastards learned how to use an axe on one another, Miss Han is right here.”

It’s been Hell with those spiky zombies that ambushed them but they managed to fight them off unscathed; not to mention the other zombies So Ah had left for them to kill. It was a dangerous plan but also a frustratingly good one because it worked in slowing them down.

They had gone up the emergency stairs, unaware of the thuds and extremely distant roars of a certain on-the-loose monkey before Chris’s eagle eyes caught a still-wet bloody handprint on the railing of the stairs. That’s the reason why both BSAA soldiers are scanning the 13th floor.

And kudos to Chris’s intelligence because just as they rounded the corner, So Ah walked out of a room, visibly confused and on edge.

“Freeze!” Piers ordered aloud, flashing the light on her and that caused her to jolt at BSAA’s men then she ran off down the corridor.

“Come on!” Chris demanded and both of them ran after her.

They were a lot faster than her, easily closing the distance between them. Due to the loud ruckus, more zombies began groaning and waking up beneath them.

Piers and Chris shot them and So Ah turned a sharp corner then nearly slipped, letting out a hitched gasp and began backing towards them.

“Oh, fu–” She nearly cursed but ended up yelping when spine-chilling thuds revealed the tyrant at the end of the hall.

“Oh, you gotta be shitting me!” Chris hissed, aiming his rifle up at the tyrant that stood there, dead eyes observing the two men and the girl frozen in between the tyrant and the BSAA.

“I thought you took care of it!” Piers yelled.

“Nothing fucking dies around here.” Chris glowered then the tyrant’s eyes were dead set on So Ah who only gripped her axe tight, taking a few steps back when she noticed the menacing stare.

“Why am I always being chased by these things?” So Ah almost cried, feeling exhausted from all the running and hiding in her heeled boots – which are not made for running – then the tyrant let out a rough gruff, his fists tightening into a hard grip.

“Do you want to come with us to HQ now?” Piers chimed up from behind, “Or do you still wanna hang out with this fucker?”

So Ah looked over her shoulders at them with a frown then looked at Chris, “Why won’t you believe me?”

Chris furrowed his brows at her; is she lying or is she actually innocent?

The tyrant seemed to have had enough with the guns being aimed at him when all he was ordered was to get the girl – so he made his thudding move towards the trio.

“I’m sorry for this.” So Ah hurriedly dug into her skirt’s belt from beneath her jacket, pulling a stun grenade.

Chris’s eyes widened and went to stop her, “No, wait!”

Then she threw it and it clunk near the tyrant’s stomping feet – but it didn’t explode and the giant didn’t even bother looking down.

She forgot to take the pin.

“Oh.”

Despite being in a life or death situation with the bigfoot wannabe coming at them, the BSAA men still managed to give her an incredulous look.

The tyrant then stepped on the grenade, triggering it and bright light filled the room followed by a high-pitched ringing sound. All men, including the tyrant, covered their eyes as quick but stumbling footsteps went faint.

By the time they had recovered, they noticed So Ah was gone and Piers looked behind him just in time to see her round the corner and maybe he imagined it but before she disappeared; she gave him an apologetic look.

“Well, fuck.”

✠

“Go, go!”

The walls and ceilings crumbled behind Chris and Piers as they ran in the direction of So Ah.

After the whole forgetting-to-remove-the-pin moment and standing all three of them up like a late night’s date, Chris and Piers had managed to use the incendiary explosives on the pressurized pipes.

Which would’ve been a great idea if the blast hadn’t brought in the rubble and nearly squashed them to death; but the tyrant was now underneath it – so it worked.

“She’s making a break for the lift!”

“Don’t stop!”

They turned into a long corridor just as So Ah entered the emergency elevator with glass gates. Her head snapped towards them with her hand hovering over a red button when Chris called out for her.

“So Ah, wait!”

Her hand hesitated on the button at the mention of her name, noticing how since the beginning of this entire chase back on the 10th floor; this was the first time he used her name.

Her hesitance was instantly dispersed when she seemed to have remembered the consequences of being caught.

She slammed the button, triggering the transparent gates to slide shut before it went down; officially escaping them – again.

“Damn it!” Chris cursed as Piers slowed to a stop, both panting heavily. Chris put down his gun to rub his face in irritation.

Seriously, since when was catching a 5’2 woman difficult?

“She came out of that room...” Piers muttered before urging his captain down the hallway, “Captain, she must’ve known where to go.”

Chris nodded, letting out a muffled huff, “Let’s go.”

Having reached Frederic’s office, Piers kept his guard up for any sudden hostiles while Chris searched the desk and he found the sticky note regarding the underground laboratory. He narrowed his eyes at it then down at the GreenHouse from the glass walls.

“She’s headed to the GreenHouse,” Chris commented as Piers walked up next to him, reading the note in Chris’s hand.

“There’s an entrance to the underground lab right beneath that fountain. Think that’s where the virus is made?” Piers asked, eyes trailing to the slowly dying GreenHouse.

“Only one way to find out – come on.” Chris ordered, heading to the door, “We’ve gotta catch up to her.”

✠✠

Just as they shot the last few zombies down, Leon reloaded his gun and noticed the low ammo, “Damn it, out of ammo.”

“Same here.” Finn related, checking his gun and Leon let out a tired sigh, putting his last two bullets in the gun then he moved ahead.

It didn’t take them long to finally get to the 14th floor, having used the stairs to run up. It was surprisingly quiet with little to no abnormalities but of course, the top floor just had to have an unwanted gift of zombies waiting patiently for a fresh meal.

Now you’re probably wondering, how come have three of our main characters did not stumble onto one another? Sure So Ah and Chris met – though it wasn’t a happy normal one – but how Leon did not see either of them yet?

The answer to that is simple. The facility is quite big and it didn’t seem right for it to have only one emergency exit stairs. It is a 14 storey building – so due to So Ah taking in every countermeasure when designing said building; she chose to add three emergency stairs in each level along with emergency lifts in both levels of the building.

The first level had mostly research and boring paperwork that dealt with other corporations and organizations; that’s where Michael Han was. The second level had the exciting stuff like biohazard research lab, and many other labs; you know, scientific shit – that’s Sena Kim’s territory. Both merged into one giant branch, making Green Life Pharmaceuticals.

All of this worked in So Ah’s favour, easily memorizing the exits and passageways to get to safety as quick as possible. Yes, her brain has the memory capacity of a goldfish (which is three seconds) but this is her design.

Now onto the million-dollar question; how come did Leon and Finn not once encounter Chris and Piers?

Easy – Chris and Piers were using the EMERGENCY EXIT B while Leon and Finn were on the opposite side of the building – A; and So Ah?

Sadly had to be stuck using the one with Chris and Piers – much to her dismay; she could’ve moved to the A-one where she’d have a higher chance of being with Leon but, zombies aren’t nice people.

And it wouldn’t be fair if So Ah was in Leon’s place – her axe could only last so long.

But in this case, Leon was running out of ammo.

Bet he wished he had the axe now, didn’t he?

Having strayed off topic again and broken the fourth wall, Leon and Finn busted into the main office – Michael’s office.

“She’s not here,” Finn said; scanning the room as Leon glared frustratingly down at the city on fire.

It wasn’t getting any better and he doubted that pharmacy guy was alive – but this all only fuelled his determination to continue moving forward; to save everyone.

“What’s this?” Leon muttered, finding a handwritten note on the desk next to the half-eaten apple with two chopsticks punched into it; abstract art really fucks with your mind.

Leon, I wanted to wait here for you but Chris was getting close so I had to write this. I’m doing fine, nothing I can’t handle yet other than the therapy sessions I’ll be getting after this. Turns out, Frederic was working on a vaccine of the sort so maybe it’ll stop this mess? I don’t know, I’ve studied pharmacy for like three weeks.

Anyway, he probably knows about what happened to my parents so I’m heading down to the 13th floor. According to my parents, Frederic was acting off and stayed late nights in his lab. As much as I’m having suspicions, maybe this is my chance to figure out my condition.

Oh, also, I wrote this at 2:12. I’d call but my phone’s dead. I really hope you’re doing okay.

-So Ah

Leon’s lips quirked visibly at the corners, finding the clearly scribbled heart at the end of the note; cute.

He knew she must’ve thought it wasn’t the right moment – hence why she scratched it off. There were three hand grenades, a first aid spray, and a LEVEL 5 ID card next to the note.

“Atta girl...”

He pocketed them and whistled out for Finn who was in the files’ room who poked his head out, “Did you find something?”

Leon nodded, “Yeah, she left a note ten minutes ago. Let’s go, she can’t be that far.”

Finn followed Leon out of the door and to the emergency stairs but just to their luck; zombies began groaning and coming through the gates. Leon instantly raised his gun and shot but then it clicked, reminding him at the worse moment possible that he was officially out of ammo.

“Shit – Finn!”

Finn was unresponsive, staring wide-eyed at the hungry death as he saw the familiar faces of his team...

“We’ll split into three teams; Team BETA scan floors two up to seven, team OMEGA keep an eye out around here, Piers and I will be taking floors eight up to fourteen – understood?”

Team BETA was limping and stumbling, no longer recognizable with how rotten they looked and they blended in well with the other infectees. They were too far gone. His comrades, his friends that he trained with, the team that entrusted OMEGA to keep them unharmed – all gone.

Leon took the matters into his own hand, having recognized the look on Finn’s face and shoved Finn into a nearby room.

Leon bit into the pin on his grenade and rolled it in between their feet, then unpinned the other one and tossed it above them and behind. He sprinted into the room and slammed the door shut before taking cover behind the wall.

The explosions shook the ground and the door flew open at the blast. Leon breathed heavily, watching the black smoke slowly clear to reveal bloody bits and pieces of what once were cannibalistic rotten bodies.

His eyes returned to the hunched-up Finn, standing up to look down at him with sharp eyes.

“You nearly got us killed.”

“I – I’m – I saw –”

“I get it but those were not your friends anymore – uniform or not, you do not hesitate. You understand?” Leon warned Finn who swallowed heavily then gave him a weak nod, pulling himself up to his wobbly feet.

Leon did feel bad for the rookie – but in this situation, a zombie is a zombie. You either kill or get killed.

✠

Leon and Finn entered the 13th floor with caution, flashing the light on the actually dead zombies and Leon noticed the bullet holes in them; unless So Ah had found a gun, this can only mean one thing.

“Shit, Chris...”

Finn pressed his lips into a thin line to not say anything regarding So Ah, internally knowing why Leon’s so focused on getting to her.

Instead, both of them followed the trail of dead zombies that led down to a dead-end corridor covered in rubble and on the opposite side was an open one. Locating the office, they entered it and scanned it from a safe distance.

Once Leon was sure it was safe, he went to the desk in hope that she might’ve left another note or something, but there was nothing. The computer was locked too which caused him to let out a grumbled sigh, “Of course... It’d be too easy...”

Finn perked up from his position and headed over to Leon, “What is it?”

“It’s locked and she didn’t leave anything behind so we’re back to square one–”

“Oh, I can get it open.” Finn chimed up casually, setting his rifle aside and Leon gave the rookie some space to work with an incredulous stare. Finn began typing on the keyboard till a tab opened up and Leon tilted his head at this.

After a series of tippy-tapping, the password was bypassed and Leon let out an amused sound.

“Guess you’re not all bad, rookie.” Leon patted Finn’s shoulder who smiled toothily at the compliment.

“Now, what are you hiding, Frederic?”

“This is the most recent research file.” Finn opened up the file and moved the screen a little towards Leon to read. It was labelled as Project PANSY.

ASSIGNMENT: PROJECT PANSY BEGAN ON: 8/09/2005

Project PANSY has been a success so far with the PLAGA sample dying instantly at the contact of PANSY. From up-close observations, I can deem it a great scientific breakthrough. The PLAGA had been released and I’ve been ordered to find a vaccine for it; which in return would be paid a huge sum of money.

But, I’ve been getting glances from the chairman and it’s been putting me on edge. I’ve asked my supervisor for a secret facility to be made that’s close enough to Green Life to be able to continue growing PANSY till his needs are met. Needless to say, I’m surprised in disbelief at the underground laboratory. He told me it was a gift for all my hard work and promised me there was more to come if I succeed in making the perfect reliable vaccine.

I don’t know how he managed to do it but I won’t think long on it. The Han family were away for a long vacation. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t suspect a thing.

UPDATE: I’ve been noticing the anaemic subject for my EN-0X enhancer is experiencing negligence and seems to be isolated from family. I’ve been wondering; what would happen if I’ve injected PANSY with the enhancer?

UPDATE 2: Project PANSY is failing. It seems susceptible to evaporation when in prolonged contact with air. It needs a host.

UPDATE 3: The subject is perfect. Project PANSY is back on track.

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