#maybe I’ll even continue to work a few hours a week when school starts again

[sinofwriting]

So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,343 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

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“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second. “C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.” Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.” “Ask for an extension.” “Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?” His voice is quiet, “no.” She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?” “It’s fine.” “And the sim?” “Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?” “We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn’t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her. “Really?” She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?” “Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.” She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.” “I will.” “Bye Andrea.” “Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?” He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something. She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.” “I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.” He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?” “I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.” “You're also good with languages.” “Yes.” “And the hybrid?” She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.” His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.” She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.” Her leg that had started to bounce stops. He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.” She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?” He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.” She nods. “The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.” “Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.” “Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around. His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.” She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?” “Good.” She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?” “I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?” “I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.” She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.” “Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.” “Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives. “How are you doing?” “I’m doing good. And you are well?” “Of course, it is the season.” She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.” He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.” “You are coming to Monaco?” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.” Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.” The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.” He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.” Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces. She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You as well. Are you new to the team?” “No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.” “Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.” “You don’t need to do that.” He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.” “Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet. “I finished mine already.” Her lips purse. “At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.” Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone. “So, coffee?” He grins. She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused. “No.” She laughs. “But you like Ferrari.” “I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.” “Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.” She pauses, “My brother?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.” “I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure. Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.” “A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it. He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.” She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.” He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it. She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more. “Could I get your number?” “Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on. “What if I want it as a friend?” She sends him a look and he grins. “I could do friends.” She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.” “Anytime.”

—

“You're at a race.” “Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.” “You don’t like races.” Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.” “Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?” “No.” He starts to say her name and she shakes her head. “No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.” “For the family.” “Or that.” He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.” She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.” “Hello, Ollie.” “Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats. “I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him. “What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?” “I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.” And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.” Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her. “What are you doing here?” Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.” Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.” “Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says. She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows. “An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself. “I study there.” “What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.” Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.” Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.” “Maybe.” “Are you close to getting your degree?” “I am actually. My final exams start Monday.” “And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide. “Yes.” “My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.” “Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t. “No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?” Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.” “What?” She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?” She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.” Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She shrugs. “He’s busy.” Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.” “Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.” “And why can’t we be more than friends?” He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,” Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer. “We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him place. “Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.” “You’re Andrea’s teammate.” “For nine more weekends.” She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.” “You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.” “You're younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.” He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.” “Ollie.” She breathes. He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.” Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.” He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?” “Andrea,” “No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out. “Don’t, Andrea.” “NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.” She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news. “He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?” She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if he knows what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.” “That is not.” “Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.” Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep. She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.” “They what?” He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.” “Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?” “An old woman?” She jokes. “A predator.” She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.” “I mean, really if anything I was.” “You were very insistent.” He flushes. “Only a little.” She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?” “Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.” “They love you.” “Our friends are understanding.” “They are.” “And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.” He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach. “Ollie…” “About that last one.” “Ollie!”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman imagine #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine

[1d1195]

Dolcezza IV

Read Dolcezza here

A little fluffy, a little angsty; hope you like it! :)

~8.6k words

“Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Yes Mom, I know. I understand,” she listened to her mother at the other end of her phone. She piled her stuff in the back of her car and rubbed her forehead. Slamming the door shut, she continued listening to her mom ramble on and on. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half,” she assured her rolling her neck from side to side. A day off was rarely a day off for her. The peacefulness of her personal day was over. It was onto the chaotic portion which would no doubt leave her feeling unrested and anxious.

Thinking about her book, she heard her mom’s continued chatter. Her complaints of how no one helped her around the house and “did I tell you about who I ran into at the grocery store?”

“Mom! I have to go!” She longed for the book she was reading only an hour prior. Thought about the deep breathing from the online yoga class she followed from YouTube only two hours prior. Ending the call, she sighed heavily again, squared her shoulders, and fell into the driver’s seat.

With a frown, she looked at the empty restaurant, lights off, closed sign hanging in the window. She didn’t even get to see Harry before she left, and she really wanted to. Since Harry took care of her, she ached to see Harry more frequently but was trying to keep her distance so as not to overwhelm him. The last place she would ever want to see her stalker was at work (not to mention it would be worse since she mostly worked from home). For anyone, it was uncomfortable when someone was flirty and there was no escape (because it was their job to be there).

She should have just texted him. That’s what Harry gave her his number for right? To be friends?

To flirt, hopefully. She thought to herself.

But since he had given her number, she hadn’t been the first one to text. Call her ridiculous or playing hard to get. Part of her couldn’t believe someone as handsome and wonderful as Harry wanted to chat with her. She never wanted to bother him, and she imagined that if she started talking, she would never want to stop. Harry would need space and...

Well, it spiraled pretty quickly.

So, all their conversations over text had been through Harry sending the first message.

Since she helped that busy night a few months back, she made her way to the kitchen at least once a week. Antonio enjoyed her help and found her adorable and helpful in a way that he couldn’t find in many employees. “Don’t get me wrong tesorino, I love my employees. They’re family. But they’re also in high school and college and they don’t care nearly as much as I do about this place.” She overheard him tell Niall, “It’s nice to depend on her as a tenant, someone I can trust Leo with, and someone that cares for the restaurant like she’s worked here her whole life.”

It made her feel warm, and she loved helping. It had been nearly routine; working from home, going to the gym, running errands, eating eggplant and spaghetti, and smiling at Harry through the kitchen window. It was so nice to relax and be around people who liked her company. People who didn’t make her feel crazy like her family.

It was nice to relax and not worry about being followed for the first time in a really long time.

I could send a simple, “good morning, have a good day” text. She thought. It was harmless. She could do that.

Right?

Sighing, she decided against it. Maybe he was sleeping in. She tried to remember what day he had off that week but was coming up short. Maybe she would come say hello at the end of her long day if she wasn’t too exhausted. But it was unlikely that would be the case at the end of what would be a long, long day. There was always tomorrow.

Plus, if Harry ended up texting her back, she would probably crash her car to answer him. Shoving the key in the ignition, she was trying to be positive, but it was hard to do so when she was not going to see Harry and she was not looking forward to the rest of her day off.

The feeling was only amplified as her engine did not turn over. She groaned. “No, no, no…” she whined. She knew very little about cars. Every year she asked her parents to renew her AAA membership for her birthday. She was ever practical, and it was a huge joke among her extended family. It was something she hated paying for herself but wouldn’t be caught dead without.

Right when the car didn’t start, she should have just called AAA. But instead—maybe because she was already frustrated and anxious about dealing with her family—she got out of her car to look at the mechanical engineering, as if she even knew what she was doing. With her phone’s flashlight, she peered under the hood, like she would suddenly know what she was looking for. She readjusted the strap of her purse to keep it from falling into the greasy, mechanical things and getting disgusting. Always one to take the time to learn a new skill, her dad showed her how to change a battery, check her oil, and replace various things in her car once she got her license. She was praying the battery was somehow disconnected. Because even if she had called AAA right then and there, it would ruin her whole schedule. Her whole day. She would let her family down and that would...well that would be really bad for her psyche.

But at the heart of it, it really made no sense for her to look under the hood. The thought of seeing her family tended to wreak havoc on her mind and make her do things like this.

A gust of wind made it’s way down the road. It blew her hair in her face and as she tried to blow it back out of her mouth, she heard the thunk of her car door closing. She bounced at the sound because it scared her. Making her hit her head on the open hood. “FUCK!” She hissed, rubbing the sore spot. She hurried to look at the door that had betrayed her. “No, no, no,” she whined reaching for the handle, but her gut already told her it was too late.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she groaned rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. After thirty seconds of silence and utter disbelief, she began smacking the window with the open palms of her hands repeatedly. She made grunting and grumpy noises and kicked the tire for good measure. “You stupid piece—!” She hissed and continued to beat up the inanimate object.

Harry saw her from his own car when he pulled into the parking space nearby. Niall looked up from the passenger seat while Harry checked to make sure he was safely and adequately in the spot.

“Oof, that doesn’t look too good,” Niall murmured, just as she began attacking her car.

Harry hurried to throw the car in park and get out of his vehicle.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushed seemingly from nowhere. He quickly raced to her, pulling her by the hips swiftly so there was small distance from her vehicle to keep her from hitting it and preventing her from self-injury. “Principessa,” his voice was so soothing. Even though she was livid and frustrated, she couldn’t help but feel like he was speaking directly into her soul, his voice warm and perfect.

The few times she ended up in Dolcezza’s kitchen, Harry was somehow kinder to her than when they were interacting elsewhere. His voice was gentle as he walked past her with a hot tray. “Behind y’principessa,” or “watch y’hands, kitten, this one’s hot.” Something of that nature. Even when it was busy as could be, he would gently place a hand on her lower back and walk by her making her stomach flutter.

Harry touching her and physically pulling her away from her vehicle, on top of that soothing warm voice, almost made her feel remorse for attacking her car. “The car is gonna win, every time, kitten.” His hands now gripped the top of her arms holding her in place even though she strained ever so slightly against his hold to return to her frustrated movements. Niall was close behind. He tried all her doors to see if they were unlocked. But no dice.

Her face crumpled and Harry thought he would cry if she did. “This is the worst day off in the history of days off,” she moaned.

Harry released the top of her arms, skimmed down the length of them and rotated her hands for injury. All the while she explained the awfulness of the last ten minutes, all the things she had to do and why she was upset that this was the time her car had chosen to break down. Niall frowned at her story, no doubt feeling bad for her, but Harry could see the delight in his eyes. “Well, tesorino, don’t count today out just yet. Harry also has the day off. I’m sure he would be happy to drive you to your mum’s,” he clapped Harry on the back of his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on your car. Make sure they get your keys safely in my hands and your car to the dealership.”

Harry smirked awkwardly and coughed as Niall volunteered him. Of course, he would do it, but he knew that she would be upset.

It was evident by the way her skin pinked with the suggestion. The thought of Harry doing something kind for her without any return on his time investment? “No way,” she snorted almost bitterly. “This is an all-day expedition,” she shook her head. “I can’t ask you to give up your day off for me.”

This was great for Harry on fifty different levels, minimum. He would get to see her in her element, talk to her about a ton of stuff, meet her family, and see her hometown. There wasn’t a better day off to be had. Except she looked infuriated, and Harry wasn’t sure he was exempt from her frustration. She texted rapidly on her phone. “Could y’go another day, kitten?” Harry asked softly. She shook her head. Tears were definitely filling her eyes at the mere thought. “Okay, so let’s go,” Harry shrugged and walked toward his car. She frowned.

“You really... don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Harry,” she whispered so quietly, and he turned around as he held the passenger door open. Her heart nearly stopped. She forgot why she was so mad. She wasn’t sure anyone had held a door open for her like that. Ever. “It’s... a lot,” she told him.

He smiled looking back over his shoulder. “Then we better get moving.”

She stayed put and felt so utterly awful, but Harry was waiting. It felt wrong to keep him waiting. Especially when she could only imagine what the day would bring without him really knowing.

“Did you desperately need anything in your car?” Niall asked, trying the handle once more.

“Yeah, like all that baking stuff,” she rubbed her forehead not having any kind of backup plan for that scenario. Harry frowned and closed the door to the car and started for the restaurant. At least Harry could come up with a backup plan for her.

“Why are you bringing baking stuff?” Niall peered into the backseat to see a bag of groceries and three cupcake pans, ignoring Harry’s path to Dolcezza’s front door.

“Uhh…” she swallowed hard. Obviously, whatever the reason was not something she felt like sharing. At least not right then. Harry frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, Principessa, don’t worry. Ni, can y’help grab some stuff,” he said opening the door to the restaurant. In a matter of minutes, she had replaced the groceries and metal pans that she had brought from her apartment.

“Niall, can you give them to Antonio when you get the car open?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together in worry.

He nodded. “Course, tesorino,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I would wait and ask Antonio for his key, get my spare car key, everything...but—”

“Principessa,” Harry said pressing a hand on her lower back making her feel like she might pass out. It took every ounce of restraint to not let the shiver threatening to roll through her body viciously for him and Niall to see her completely lose her mind over Harry’s touch. “S’okay. He’ll understand. Let’s go,” he smiled opening his car door again for her to sit in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Harry rolled down the window as he started his car.

“It’s what friends are for, tesorino,” Niall winked at her. She was only a half hour behind schedule. An easy comeback.

She nodded. Other than Eleanor and Louis, she wasn’t sure she knew what that was like. “Well, still,” she said softly. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

Niall smiled gently at her and caught Harry’s gaze very briefly before he pulled away from the curb.

*

Once on the highway, she made a call to her sister, and explained the problem. At the same time, Harry called Niall and gave specific instructions not to let her keys out of his sight. Overcome, once more by the worry of someone stealing her keys and finding her apartment upstairs. Throwing that thought out of his mind, he told Niall that he had to pass the car one off to the tow truck driver and hold her other ones until they got back. He also left him in charge of making sure her car was properly taken care of, and he was to text Harry if there was an issue. She spent the first hour of the drive near silence. Instead, texting and scrolling on her phone. It didn’t upset Harry, but it did worry him. “Do y’need anything kitten? Wanna stop for coffee or...?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later,” she answered.

He nodded. “Alright.”

It very much seemed like she didn’t want to talk. But right as the GPS alerted her that they would arrive in half an hour she started to squirm ever so slightly.

“Y’okay, Principessa?”

She sighed and put her head in her hands. “My family is a lot,” she told him. “Like just chaotic and a little crazy; it’s embarrassing.”

He frowned. “Okay, I’m... I’m sorry that y’feel embarrassed. But... every family has something, y’know?” His voice was gentle and quiet. Encouraging. “M’not going t’like... say anything.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she looked at her lap, inspecting her fingertips.

“Plus, if... if you came from them... they’re already the most wonderful people I’ll ever meet,” he shrugged as if that wasn’t the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard. He didn’t get a good look because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the road, but he hoped her cheeks were that pretty pink color.

“They’re good people...but...” she sighed.

“Kitten,” he reached over and put his hand on her squirming fingers. He gave them a reassuring squeeze. “S’okay. I promise,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath and looked out the window. Harry glanced at her briefly. It was the safest he had ever driven in his life—and he was already a safe driver. But even though he was desperate to hold her hand the way he was right now; he couldn’t help but feel bad about removing his hand from the two-position. She was the most precious thing he had ever had in his car and wanted to keep her safe no matter what—even if he really wanted to keep holding her hand and assure her it would be alright.

She looked at Harry in her peripheral. “My sister is going to fall in love with you.”

He smirked. “M’a bit older than her, yeah?”

“She’s eighteen,” she sighed. “But we think she was born as a thirteen-year-old.”

“S’a bit young for me,” he winked. She squeezed his hand as she smiled softly. Harry wondered if she knew she did that but didn’t want to bring it to her attention.

“Also,” she took another deep breath. “They don’t... I’ve never told them about the person following me,” she mumbled. Harry very nearly stopped the car.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh?”

“They would...” she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t y’brother a dispatcher? Does he want t’be a police officer?”

“Yeah...but...” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Please don’t mention it, not that I think you would but—”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “S’a pretty big thing t’hide from your family.”

“Well,” she was skimming her thumb along the back of Harry’s hand, and he had never enjoyed hand holding so much in his whole life. “It would just worry them,” her voice was quiet. Like she wanted to tell them. Maybe she wanted them to worry about her. “I don’t... they don’t need to worry about me,” she mumbled. “It’s not a big deal, really. You know?”

It was. Every time Harry saw her, there was the smallest part of his brain thinking about how someone was so obsessed with her that he watched her every movement for over a year. So much so that she had to move. It wasn’t a way to live, and she didn’t see it as a problem. Didn’t see it as something that people who cared about her should worry about. Harry wanted to cry about how sweet she was. She deserved... everything.

“I won’t say anything, Principessa,” he squeezed her hand. She smiled.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me... someone that isn’t Eleanor or Louis,” she explained.

“Eleanor...” he followed the GPS’s directions to get off the highway. It wasn’t quite a city, but not a small town either. There were lots of stores and restaurants right off the exit and Harry stopped at the red light. “El mentioned y’had an ex-boyfriend—”

“Course she did,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry ignored her comment. “—he must’ve... helped.”

She shrugged. “Yeah... but...” she looked at how her hands were holding Harry’s. It was so warm and somehow more intimate than every kiss she had with her ex. It felt like holding Harry’s hand was holding a piece of his heart and she didn’t necessarily think it was as simple as that... but she really liked it. “He... he complained a lot,” she mumbled. “I told you my family is a lot, and they are. But... they’re good people and I love them so it’s...” she sighed. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have dated him for as long as I did. Eleanor was probably right to not like him. By the end of it... it was like we lived two separate lives. I just did what I wanted and he...” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“You deserved more,” he finished.

“Well...I don’t know about—”

“No, Principessa,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “S’not a negotiation. You deserved more,” he promised squeezing her hand. They turned off the main road. Harry let her contemplate his statement in silence and continued following the GPS.

Her neighborhood was quaint and looked like a great place to grow up. It was the type of neighborhood little ones probably loved to Trick or Treat in. The kind where you could go to a neighbor’s house and ask for a cup of sugar and chat for so long you forgot to finish baking. Harry wondered if people sang Christmas carols or had block parties. But her grip had stiffened around Harry’s hand, and he could see her physically steeling herself. Her shoulders stiffened, everything about her seemed to be almost defensive. “If it’s too much for you,” she said getting out of the car and grabbing the baking items out of the back seat, “you can leave... there’s a cute mall with shops and restaurants back toward the highway if you need time to get away. I wouldn’t... I won’t blame you,” she turned her attention to the house she grew up in and looked at the Christmas lights still hanging from the gutter, draped on the shrubs.

It was February, now. Her heart felt heavy.

Harry had gotten screamed at during culinary school four and a half out of five days of the week. She was the kindest sweetest soul on the planet. There was no way her family could be so bad that he would feel the need to leave. “Thank you, kitten. M’going t’be fine,” he winked at her taking the bag of supplies and the pans from her, so she had free hands to open the front door. With a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

It was loud. That was the first thing Harry noticed. There was yelling from one room to the other. In her defense, it wasn’t angry. It was as if they didn’t want to leave their rooms. The smoke detector was going off and a clang of pans coming from the kitchen. “She’s here!” A voice shouted from somewhere upstairs. Harry glanced around quickly catching pictures of when she was younger. He hoped he had a chance to look at them again later.

Harry watched her as she took in the scene. The living room and dining room were a bit cluttered. But it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. She hoped after she told them a friend was driving because of her car situation that they would clean up a bit. Maybe they did, or maybe her sister finally found better lighting in her room to do her makeup and skincare routine each morning instead of the living room. She pulled the items from Harry’s hands so he could take his coat off. He did so silently, and quickly took the items back from her so she could do the same.

Obviously, the smoke detector and kitchen were her first stop. “Mom,” she said evenly as she walked into the kitchen. Harry followed behind. It was a little more cluttered. Especially considering they knew she was coming over to bake cupcakes.

“Hey sweetie!” The woman turned. Harry could see his future. The sweet girl would grow up to be a pretty mom just like the woman in front of him. “Oh hello; I thought Eleanor was driving you.”

Harry saw her entire body flinch then, somehow, stiffen more. “Eleanor moved, Mom. I told you that.” The smoke detector was still going off and it somehow wasn’t fazing any of them and Harry found that rather funny and cute. But he was surprised that her mom didn’t remember her best friend had moved.

“Silly me, must have forgot,” she laughed and shrugged. She turned and took Harry’s items once more and set them on the little space left on the kitchen island.

“This is Harry,” she gestured to him.

Harry held his hand out. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

She grinned and Harry could see every facial feature of the sweet girl had come directly from her mother. It was almost uncanny. “Thank you, Harry. Thanks for driving her,” she smiled. “Emma, honey! what are we doing with the smoke detector?”

“Nothing? Why?” The female voice responded.

Harry watched the girl’s face drop with exhaustion. The poor thing. They hadn’t been there longer than two minutes. Her mom rolled her eyes. “Can you turn it off?”

“I don’t know how!”

“I got it!” A male voice answered.

There was a clatter and a thud, but the alarm stopped. She felt the ringing of it still in her ears. “Honey, your daughter is here,” her mom sang.

After a moment, her father stepped into the kitchen joining them. “Hey sweetie,” he smiled. He nodded at Harry and gave his daughter a hug. She returned the hug, the light in her eyes seemed dead making her look stoic and tired. “No Eleanor?”

She nodded. “No Eleanor,” she sighed.

“Eleanor moved,” her mom answered pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. It smelled delicious.

“Really?” her dad said in surprise.

“M’Harry,” he said holding his hand out again for him to shake next. She was watching her mother with her casserole dish, she quickly moved things off the counter, so she had room to set it down. It wasn’t the most unusual thing, but it was very obvious that she was used to anticipating her family’s every movement. Maybe that’s why it was so nice to work with her in the kitchen at Dolcezza.

“What brings you here?” He asked.

“Emma’s bake sale,” she answered and began throwing used cooking utensils in the sink. She peeked into the dishwasher and noticed it was full. “Is this clean or dirty?” She asked.

“It’s clean. I asked Emma to empty it.”

“When?” she muttered under her breath looking at the stack of plates and dishes in the sink piling high enough that she thought she would have to run two loads while she was here. Harry was taking it all in, looking at the pictures on the fridge. “What’s she doing?”

“Who knows,” her mom smirked with an eyeroll. “Our princess is something else,” she explained to Harry with a smile.

Harry returned the smile but didn’t think Emma could be a princess. Not if she didn’t unload the dishwasher when she was asked. Nor if she knew how to handle a smoke detector. Harry got the sense that she was perhaps a bit spoiled—not through any fault of her own but ten years younger than her oldest sibling, she had to be waited on throughout her childhood.

Not to mention the only Prinicipessa in Harry’s life was the sweet girl he had spent an hour and a half with in the car. “Emma!” Her dad called.

“Coming!” She shouted and Harry heard a flutter of footfalls on the stairs coming from around the corner.

Her jaw dropped when she entered the kitchen. “You’re not Eleanor,” she said in surprise. Harry smirked. The poor girl looked ready to cry right there. Not one of them remembered. He wished he had her brother’s phone number just so he could warn him in advance. If he said Eleanor later Harry would lose it. He found it so unbearably sad, he thought she was going to cry. She flexed her jaw.

“Eleanor moved,” her dad explained.

“Huh,” she shrugged.

“M’Harry,” he said for the third time and held his hand out.

It seemed the genes she got from her mom were extremely strong. The three of them could have been mistaken for triplets. Her sister stared at him in surprise and nodded. “Emma,” she mumbled in surprise.

“Emma, can you empty the dishwasher since we have to make cupcakes and need space?” She asked.

Her sister rolled her eyes and Harry turned his attention again to the pictures on the fridge. Harry had his fair share of arguments with Gemma growing up. But he knew two sisters who argued could be on another level. “Did Mom ask you to ask me?”

Their mom opened her mouth, but she spoke before her mom uttered a syllable. “No Emma, but it’s courtesy to do what mom asks you to do, you know?”

“I was going to get to it after I finished my makeup.”

“Right because the dishes need you to be looking your best to get in the cabinet. Forget it. I’ll do it,” she sighed rubbing a hand on her forehead. “Why are the Christmas lights still up? I thought you were taking them down last week while James was home?” She wondered.

“James didn’t want to,” Emma shrugged. “Who cares? It’s pretty in the snow.”

She shared a look with her mom who once more looked so much like Harry’s sweet Principessa. She looked exhausted.

Oh.

Her mother’s genes were really strong. The exhaustion wasn’t something that just happened to her, it had been happening for longer than she had been alive.

“Alright,” she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I will...manage that too.”

“Sweetie, you don’t need to do everything,” her dad said.

She turned to him briefly with an irritated expression. One that said, by all means, you do whatever you want. But it stopped as quickly as it started. After her expression returned to neutral, she began to unload the dishwasher. Harry wanted to keep a mental list of things to mention to her while he was here. The first being the look she gave her dad.

“Why are you making cupcakes?” Her mom asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she sighed in frustration. “The winter carnival is expecting them or something...” she rolled her eyes. To her sister’s defense, she used to always make them when she was in high school. A “secret” recipe of hers (even if it was by all accounts a pretty standard cupcake recipe). But it had been talked about since she graduated. She made them for her brother and every year someone’s sibling of someone she knew from high school knew her and would ask.

Unlike her sister, everyone else had the courtesy to ask months in advance. Not a week like Emma. “I thought you knew!” She had exclaimed when she told her about it. “You always make them!”

“You didn’t ask!”

“I didn’t know I had to!” Emma was nearly hyperventilating on the phone thinking that she wasn’t going to make them because she had waited too long. But that was too much to explain to her mom. It was expected of her, and she should have known that she needed to make cupcakes. How could she not?

Harry was chatting with her father. Inquiring about how they had met and so forth. If Harry was into sports or if he liked fishing. She hoped Harry wouldn’t let it slip why she moved. “We haven’t seen her new place,” her dad admitted.

“S’nice. Y’should come by. We’ll make y’a delicious dinner too at the restaurant,” Harry promised.

She continued glancing over while the dishes were put in the correct cabinet, and she reloaded items from the sink to the machine. “Why don’t you make her do things, Mom?” She asked tiredly. Emma was inserting herself into the conversation with Harry and her dad. Her mom helped by clearing off the counters as quickly as possible.

She shrugged. “You know how Emma is,” she said.

“Kick her out,” she knew it was dramatic, but maybe even a threat would be helpful.

“Sweetie,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know that’s not how I operate. I could never kick out the three of you.” Plus, if she did kick her out, she would end up right at her doorstep. Right outside Dolcezza. “Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Once the kitchen was mostly cleared, she was certain her dad loved Harry. To be fair, it was pretty easy to fall in love with him. She had done it about a thousand times. Emma was starstruck. She eyed his tattoos and his muscular arms. Harry had the best smile and the nicest eyes. Emma was going to be a giggly mess.

“Alright, I made shepherd’s pie for when you finish baking and before you go see James. What did he say he needed that you had to come?” Her mom asked.

Harry turned his attention back, wondering as well. She hadn’t said anything about the reason for her brother and added it to the list in his mind for when they headed to his off-campus apartment. “Just haven’t seen him in a while,” she shrugged.

“Probably needs money,” Emma snorted.

Her mom looked at her. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare give your brother money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Better me than you,” she mumbled.

Harry was starting to understand why this was going to be a long day.

*

Everyone left the kitchen and she got to work getting bowls, preheating the oven and all the other things she needed in a flurry of activity.

“M’not much of a baker, kitten. S’gonna have t’be all you. But m’really good at taking direction,” he promised with a smile. “Jus’ tell me what t’do.”

It was the cutest thing ever to see her put an apron on that was decorated with flowers on the print. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and twisted her hair back out of her face. She was adorable. “You’re sure?” She asked.

“S’all you, Principessa.”

“Okay, I just work really quick because I have to do other things so—”

“Okay,” he interrupted with a nod and a deeper smile. One that made the dimple in his cheek poke through. It poked right through her heart. “S’fine. I can do that,” he assured her with a head nod.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said gratefully.

“Course, kitten. M’happy t’help you. You’ve been helping so much in the kitchen. S’least I can do,” he squeezed her upper arm as he gazed at her hoping she would just see how much Harry liked her. They worked quickly, stirring all kinds of batter. They were making three different cupcakes: chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet. Her recipe was easy to follow. He liked her extra touches that made it her own and he thought that he would have to tell Antonio to hire her full time just to make cupcakes. “How come y’not a baker?” Harry was pulling the cupcakes out of the tins so he could place more paper cupcake holders to dole out more batter. He lined the cupcakes on every available surface. He insisted on this job since as he kept telling her, his fingertips were immune to the hot temperatures of the cupcakes right out of the oven.

“It’s a nice little hobby,” she smiled. “I don’t think I have enough good stuff just to open a little shop and sell cupcakes.”

“Would y’want to?” He wondered.

She shook her head. “No...I like my job. I’m good at it.”

“M’sure you are jus’ good at everything y’do, kitten,” he chuckled.

She smiled and put her hand on Harry’s arm as she walked behind him. In between rounds of trays going in and out of the oven, she was working on the pile of dishes and the dishwasher. It was almost done, and he was impressed (but not surprised) by how efficiently she worked. They chatted more about her job—she was a finance manager for a big company in the city near Dolcezza. She enjoyed it; her coworkers were nice, and people valued her skill. Not that that surprised Harry in the slightest. She found it nice to work from home as long as she maintained specific working hours.

“That was the hardest adjustment about working at home. I was worried I would just work all the time.” He nodded understandingly enjoying the passion she had for everything she did. “I think maybe if I wasn’t doing this, I would want to teach people about finance,” she shrugged.

“Y’would teach bratty teenagers?” Harry asked in surprise with a smile.

“I’m pretty good with them,” she winked and jutted her chin toward the empty hallway coming off the kitchen indicating Emma, of course. Harry laughed and shook his head at her.

After more chit chat, there were about 130 cupcakes cooling and waiting to be frosted after a while. “Do you mind helping with the lights?” She asked quietly. The last batch of cupcakes just went in, and all the cleaning was almost done.

Harry turned to see her pink cheeks. It was hard for her to ask for help, Harry could see that. But it was really exciting for him to hear her ask. It was a huge step. Even if it was already implied that he would help her with whatever. “Course, Principessa,” he smiled. “M’happy to.”

“This has to be the worst day off in the history of the world for you.”

“I don’t know. Cupcakes and a pretty girl?” She dropped her gaze to the sink and Harry smiled at her shyness. “S’better than me jus’ sleeping the day away,” he smiled.

“Don’t you have... a date or something?” She wondered, looking as far away from Harry’s face as possible. She didn’t want to catch his expression in her peripheral. “It’s Friday. I imagine you only get a Friday off once in a while.”

He smirked with a shake of his head. She was oblivious.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it because of who she was. Harry adored her and that probably scared some part of her, even he could recognize that. “It rotates,” he agreed. “But... no. M’not really interested in dating anyone,” he told her.

“No?” She frowned before she could stop herself. Immediately, she regretted saying it. But was desperate to know the answer.

His heart sped. He wondered if the strong, rhythmic beating would break one of his ribs. Closing the oven, he turned to see her still working on the dishes. But after a near silent moment, he stopped her movements, grabbed her by the wrists and turned her around from the sink. Her hands dripped water on the floor, and he shifted her so that her back was to the counter. His hands pressed on either side of her hips against it, and he put a breath of space between them. “I’d make an exception for you,” he promised and scanned her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed hard.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

“Always, Principessa,” he murmured and dropped his gaze to her lips.

Her brain got the better of her again, making her mouth speak before she could comprehend what she was about to say. Her breath was airy, her mind spinning with the scent of vanilla cupcakes and Harry’s shampoo filling her nose as he leaned toward her. “You’re really going to kiss me in my parents’ house? When it’s crazy, and I’m crazy, and they’re—”

Harry chuckled, bringing a hand to the side of her face, and brushing his thumb against her cheek. As hard as his heart was beating, it felt so suddenly slow. Like this was normal and what he was supposed to do. It didn’t need a crazy heartbeat. It was simply what he was supposed to do. He glanced briefly around to see if her family was nearby—he wouldn’t want to intentionally embarrass her. “Yeah, kitten. Guess I am,” he shrugged and leaned the final distance to press his lips solidly between hers.

The moment his lips touched her, she felt her knees soften. Like she was going to fall over. All the blood in her body rushed from her extremities to her heart. It made her feel weak all over. His lips were so soft, like little down pillows. They weren’t chapped at all like she thought they’d be. Her whole body felt a rush of warmth, like the oven was open and brushing hot air over her. Her lashes fluttered, making her eyes close and she wished she dried her hands because she wanted to hold onto him, but didn’t want to get his shirt wet when he had nothing else to wear.

She sighed deeply. It was so sweet. It made his chest ache with want; he wanted to be closer. Wanted to kiss her longer. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and never ever let her go. Harry had never kissed anyone that had sighed so softly like that while kissing him. It was so very her and it made him feel like he was going to melt into the floor. Her lips tasted like chocolate from when she tested the batter. His hand kept hold of the side of her face while he nipped and pecked at her lips. The other pressed against the counter, the length of his body pressed to hers, the only two things keeping him upright and not bringing them down to the kitchen floor.

He released her lips after a moment causing a beautiful breathy sigh to leave her lips. His gaze was so intense she felt it in her stomach. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five seconds of kissing, but he would have taken an hour, and it wouldn’t have been enough. She wiped a hand on her apron and then brought it to her mouth to touch her tingly lips.

Harry’s breath was a little shallow and she was grateful he sounded a little worse for wear only because she was worried, she was going to pass out right in the middle of the kitchen. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He chuckled, shaking his head. That was very much a her thing to say at a time like this. It made his stomach flutter with excitement. “Pleasure was all mine, Principessa,” he mumbled pressing a kiss to her forehead and gently squeezing the side of her face as he held her cheek.

They stood for a moment staring at each other like they had never seen each other before. As awful as her day was, and as frustrated as her family could make her feel, this was infinitely better than what she thought it would be.

“We should... take care of the lights,” she whispered. Not that she wanted to, but kissing Harry with three quarters of her family one room away did not seem ideal.

He nodded. “Okay,” he released her cheek making her regret her choice because she felt utterly cold. She shivered and Harry sighed as he stepped away from her. Right as she turned back for the sink, the water still running, Harry caught her wrist again and pulled her so quickly to him her heart skipped a beat. “One more,” he mumbled and brought their mouths back together just as quick as he pulled her toward him, she hardly had time to react. His tongue gently tracing the length of her lip making her sigh again and he thought he would surely explode from how much he liked her.

*

“Where are the boxes?” She asked as she put her coat on. Harry pulled her hair from getting trapped and smoothed it softly on the back of her jacket. He found about a hundred excuses to touch her in the last half hour while they waited for the cupcakes to finish and for her to finish cleaning. The kitchen looked better now that she had been in there.

“In the attic,” her sister said looking up from her phone briefly. She sighed, frustrated that her siblings hadn’t even gotten the boxes down last week. Harry followed her upstairs. In the little hall between all the doors leading to what he assumed were bedrooms and at least one bathroom, was the ceiling door for the attic.

She pulled the cord to bring down the ladder, the hinges of the door groaning.

“Sweetie, wait!” Her mom shouted suddenly. Harry yanked her so hard around her waist as the door opened widely. He pulled her back toward the empty half of the hallway, causing them to fall in a heap right as the ladder half fell, dangling, unhinged to half of the frame of the opening. She would have gotten a serious smack to the face had Harry not pulled her out of the way. She felt so warm in his arms. Even if her falling on top of him with her full weight could not have felt good. She could feel her face burning in embarrassment.

“Emma, are you fucking serious?!” She screamed. She scrambled to get to her feet. She helped Harry back to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously, her eyes looking him over quickly and her mom had reached the top of the steps. Her eyebrows pinched together. She looked so emotionally hurt. The poor thing.

Harry shook his head looking at the ladder and then at her, still worried she hurt herself. He definitely yanked her really hard, and he did his best to take the brunt of the fall, but that couldn’t have felt good. “M’fine, Principessa, are you alri—”

“How is that my fault?!” Emma shouted.

“You knew it was broken and didn’t tell me?!” She hurried down half the steps to yell at her sister.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” her mother said.

“It’s okay. We’re alri—”

“Is that why you two didn’t do the decorations?” She was seething. From the top of the steps Harry could see her shoulders heaving with each breath. “Are you serious?”

“What?!”

“The ladder almost hit Harry and I!”

“Kitten,” he started down the couple steps and he touched her shoulder gently.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her mom asked.

“I was going to fix it tomorrow,” her dad called from another room.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry smiled gently at her mother wondering how she could be ignoring the screaming match.

“Why are you even dealing with the decorations, you came to bake cupcakes!”

“Emma you’re being a selfish brat, not once did you say thank you—”

“Principessa,” Harry’s voice was low, and he moved his hand to her lower back.

“You always make cupcakes!”

“—you do nothing but make messes that Mom has to clean up you could have at least put the decorations away!”

The screaming was reaching levels Harry hadn’t heard before. Especially not from his sweet, pretty angel. He worried about how her throat would feel from yelling so loud and of course the anger that was rippling through her made him worry she would shake so much she would fall down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said pushing past Harry very gently. “It’s okay—”

“Mom, it’s not okay. She is a lazy, spoiled brat and you don’t—”

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to come over and act like you run everything! You act so high and mighty! We’ve been fine without you living here and bossing all of us around. Can’t you just relax for two seconds and stop being a bitch?!” Emma did not once get up to look at her sister during this conversation.

She finally stopped. Her breathing no longer heaving, she stopped shaking. She flexed her jaw. “The cupcakes need to cool. We’re going to see James and I’ll be back to frost them when we get back,” she snapped and headed down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said softly.

“Dad,” she called stiffly.

Harry followed as quickly as he could.

“Yeah?” His voice was quiet.

“Can you bring the ladder inside that will reach the attic while I’m gone?” She asked.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he promised.

She walked right out the door and closed it behind her.

“I am so sorry, Harry,” her mom whispered.

“It’s alright. M’gonna make sure she’s alright. I have a sister,” he said encouragingly with a gentle smile. “I get it,” he shrugged. “We’ll be back,” he promised following after her.

*

They drove in silence to her brother’s apartment. Harry reached over and placed his hand on the top of her thigh, but she didn’t hold it the way she had when he drove earlier. She stared out the window the whole time. There wasn’t a word of discussion. Harry didn’t speak, he didn’t play music, just gently moved his index finger back and forth, trying to soothe her as much as possible from the small movement.

James was a half hour away from their house and when there was only ten minutes left of the drive, Harry cleared his throat. “That wasn’t nice of your sister,” he whispered.

“Can we do this later?” She answered.

He frowned. “Principessa.”

“Look, it was really bad and I’m so embarrassed that you saw that and heard that. I’m sad you gave up your day off to deal with my insane family. I feel bad you’re stuck with me for the remainder of the day so I would rather just have you tell me to leave you alone when we’re on the way home—”

Shaking his head quickly, Harry thought about pulling over because surely they had entered an alternate dimension. “Kitten, what on earth are y’talking about?”

“I don’t want to do this, Harry. I’m so close to crying, it’s not even funny.”

He was quiet for a full minute. “Y’don’t have t’be embarrassed around me, Principessa. M’not going anywhere. The only reason I wish we were on our way home is so I could walk y’upstairs and kiss y’outside your door for a lot longer than we did,” he squeezed her thigh gently.

Another silent minute. They were five minutes from James’ place. “Really?” She whispered.

He glanced at her. He could see her teary gaze. The one that broke his heart when she wasn’t feeling well. It broke his heart all over again. “Really, kitten,” he promised. “We can talk ‘bout it later. But y’family doesn’t make me like y’any less. Other than worrying ‘bout you, m’having a lot of fun,” he promised. “Got a new cupcake recipe, got to see cute baby pictures of you, and got to kiss you. So...this is pretty much the best day off I’ve had in years.”

Her heart felt splintered and broken by her sister’s mean words. She was certain Harry would hate her and wouldn’t want anything to do with her. “You still want to kiss me?” She asked.

“Always, Principessa,” he nodded. “I’d ‘ve kissed you the whole way here if it were possible,” he assured her.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I’d like that,” she admitted.

He chuckled, smiling happier than he felt the last twenty-eight minutes worrying about her. “I really, like you Principessa,” she turned that pretty pink that Harry liked so much. He could see it in his peripheral. “I don’t think you’re bossy or mean. I think you are the kindest, most caring person ‘ve ever met,” he put his car in park outside the apartment building the GPS directed him to. He cupped her face again and kissed her forehead. It felt perfect. Like Harry had kissed her a hundred times before. He peered into her eyes with the same look he had right before he kissed her in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I think... we have to wait,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat. She felt dizzy with his breath filling her senses. He frowned.

“Don’t want to kiss?” he asked worried she was still going to push him away.

“No... no...” she shook her head her breath uneven. “I do. I very much do. But I won’t...” she sighed nodding quickly. “I won’t want to stop. And I—”

Harry chuckled dropping his lips to press a line of kisses from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose. “S’okay, kitten. I’ve waited nearly nine months t’kiss you. Can wait a few more hours,” he promised.

--

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[yandere-to-express]

The goth and thembo

Gn

“Detention?! Already?! You just got here a month ago!”

Y/n sighed, already expecting this reaction from their homeroom teacher. Granted, the punishment wasn’t for anything too bad; they just slept in a lot more than they meant to, and the “jet-lag” excuse after moving their whole life across the Atlantic for their parents’ careers must have worn off after the first few weeks. Honestly, with the lack of sleep and stress catching up to them? They thought they were lucky they were making it into school and managing homework at all.

They nodded along as the teacher droned on about responsibility – as if they hadn’t heard it a thousand times over at home already – pretending to listen as the hyperactivity in their brain buzzed and clouded over any form of caring enough.

Hmm, what would they have for dinner tonight? Pasta’s easy, and their parents weren’t going to be back until late in the evening, so they might as well try cooking whilst they could. Maybe clean up and do whatever bullshit homework they were given today so they don’t forget...They should play Animal Crossing, their town was probably itching for all the weeds to be pulled out, maybe a little bit of Pokémon after too, not Crystal though, the battery went all funky on the cartridge...

“...We can work out a way to prevent this from happening again,” came Mrs Stewart’s stern voice through the brain fog and, oh, no, why would she say that? Y/n nodded hesitantly in response, internalising all their complaints. ”Because this can’t happen again, Y/n. You’ve been an excellent student from what I’ve seen and heard so far, and it would be a real shame for this to drag you down.”

“It won’t happen again, I’ll work on it,” Y/n lied through their teeth, hazel eyes attempting to keep to one spot on the teacher’s face, but failing. Mrs Stewart nodded, features finally relaxing. Somehow, she believed them.

“Good, see to it you do. You may go, you’ll be late for second period otherwise.”

“Detention isn’t so bad,” Lucy reassured, making her voice loud enough to be heard over the din of the dining hall. “I had one for a late assignment last semester. It was actually kinda chill, you hear the weirdest stories in there, but it’s really fun.”

Y/n sipped from their drink with a frown, pushing their messy brown hair from their face as they tried to listen. They’d been buddied up with Lucy when they arrived back in January, meaning they were now stuck with all the loud kids at lunch. They weren’t complaining, mind you, the company was nice! It just gave them a headache at best, and at worst so far...Well, they didn’t understand what was wrong with them, but they’d rather not think about it. Anxiety was enough of a diagnosis for them right now.

“Look, I’m just saying, it’ll be fine! Try not to fall asleep in there, though, you might get into more trouble.”

“Thanks, Lucy, real great advice,” they rolled their eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm as they bit into their apple. Lucy just shrugged with a wink.

“Anytime, Y-Y.”

The lunch period continued as usual, and soon enough the bell ringed for the next round of classes to start. Great. Just what they needed right now, two hours sugar-coated history of a country they knew nothing about when they felt like falling asleep at any moment, right before detention. Still, they couldn’t just skip, that’d earn extra punishments. So, they dragged their feet through the halls, somehow staying upright through the hustle and bustle that was 10 times worse than the now seemingly very small Secondary School in England that they’d left behind for this. As much as they hated to admit it, Y/n would love to hear another British accent loudly proclaim someone had cheated on so-and-so in the middle of the corridor, but, alas, that was an experience they’d never burden again. Instead, they had to fight for their life with exhaustion as thousands of students streamed into their classes with the force of a burst pipe.

Somehow, they made it in, grunting at the greeting the person who sat next to them gave – their name was TK, right? They were too tired to remember or care – and flopping down in their chair with a sigh. Curse these huge American schools with huge American student, their poor feet felt like they were going to drop off!

Soon enough, the History teacher – Mr Russel – started his droning on about some time when alcohol was banned across the nation. Or, uh, something like that, Y/n wasn’t really paying attention, doodling on the corners of their pages instead. They did the work! They just didn’t soak in the information. Mr Russel said it was good work later on, so clearly they were doing something right regardless.

Suddenly though, in the middle of the lesson, the door slammed open and a pissed off, lanky ball of edge strode in. The teacher frowned at the intrusion.

“Well, good afternoon, Mr King! Would you mind explaining where you’ve been?”

The student just kept walking, grunting something about being dress-coded, which, uh, yeah that seems likely with that thin mesh shirt in the middle of February, Y/n thought, not realising they were staring by the time the kid sat in the vacant seat next to them. He caught their gaze as Mr Russel continued the lesson, narrowing his piercing, bright blue eyes.

“What?” he snarled, making Y/n flush with embarrassment at getting caught staring.

“S-Sorry,” they quickly whispered, trying their hardest not to look his way again, catching glimpses of him looking bored throughout the lesson.

Little did they know, that wouldn’t be the last they’d see of him.

“Who was that?!” they blurted to TK once the lesson ended, seeing as the goth kid had already left. TK looked up at them from their packing, startled.

“W-Who?”

“Goth kid with the attitude! How come I’ve never seen him before?!”

“Oh, him,” TK grimaced, turning their attention back to their bag. “Yeah, uh, that’s Peter King. Gets into fights and stuff a lot, and honestly that’s what he’s like on a good day. In fact, that’s gotta be the calmest I’ve ever seen him. You have detention, right? He’ll be in there because of the dress-code violation, try not to stare again.”

And so, once they both said goodbye, Y/n trudged along to their doom, knowing they couldn’t stop themself from staring again if the opportunity came about.

Because, honestly? As intimidating as he was, this “Peter” character was rather intriguing. They’d wanted to get into gothic dress themself recently, maybe if they miraculously befriended him, he’d say where he got his gear from. Maybe not the mesh tee...Maybe. At least, not until the Summer...And definitely not without a tank top or a binder...

Soon they reached the classroom detention was being held in, noticing that, well, no one was actually going inside. They spotted the goth from before, swallowing their anxiety down since he was the only one who they really knew of and recognised, and fumbled their way towards him nervously.

“U-Um...” they began, stuttering with uncertainty. Peter looked down with a frown.

“What do you want,” he growled, practically baring his teeth and oh goodness his teeth don’t be into him you don’t know him Y/n you weirdo.

“I-I, um, this is detention, r-right?” they carried on, shrinking under his stare. “I-I’m sorry for staring earlier b-by the way, um, you look c-cool...”

Peter stared a little longer, brows furrowing deeper.

“U-Um...I’m Y/n by the way.”

...That gaze was intense holy shit, Y/n couldn’t help but look away with heated cheeks, sweating nervously. Oh, man, they’d got off on the wrong foot and he wasn’t interested in fixing that, was he?! They didn’t want an enemy! TK said he fights people, God, they hoped he wouldn’t want to fight them ! They couldn’t knock out a butterfly!

“...Peter,” he finally said, making Y/ look back up in surprise. He was looking away from them...Was he blushing? No, no, maybe their eyes were just really tired. “You’re in the right place, teacher’s just late. Uh...Thanks. I guess. The teacher who dress-coded me certainly didn’t think so.”

“U-Uh huh, w-well, what do they know, huh,” Y/n laughed nervously, trying to ease whatever tension they could sense emanating off of the other in droves. “T-They’re teachers, they aren’t the best as, um, fashion, I guess?”

Peter scoffed, shoulders relaxing a little as he pushed some of the long, dark hair out of his face.

“You’re tellin’ me, first day back after suspension and they pull this shit.”

This drew a more earnest giggle from Y/n (really, Y/n, giggling ?!), making Peter chuckle a little too, tension fading away more with each passing second.

Soon enough the assigned teacher showed up, apologising profusely and letting the students in. They answered a brief roll-call, and soon enough there was a muted chatter among the kids, some choosing to work, others ignoring all school-related possibilities. Somehow, Y/n had already befriended the lanky goth enough for him to instantly sit at the desk next to theirs, and they found themselves being watched as they attempted the bullshit Math homework that had been assigned earlier in the day. Not that they minded, they figured the other didn’t have much to talk about, and that was fine with them. It gave them more of a chance to focus, after all.

After about 20 minutes, however, Peter finally spoke up.

“...So what’re you in for?” he asked, voice gravelly and interrupting Y/n concentration. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. “You definitely didn’t get coded, and you look way too small to fight anything.”

Ouch, harsh, not everyone is over 6’ and can fight God. “Um, it’s not that special,” they shrugged, choosing to ignore the slight insult. “I, um, I just slept in a whole lot.”

“Huh,” he nodded, looking away absently for a moment, as if he were thinking of what to say next. “...Not a great sleeper, huh?”

“Nope, haven’t been since I was, what, 5?” Y/n sighed, trying to make sense of the equation on the page in front of them.

“Ah.”

The two were silent again, but y/n couldn’t help but feel it was much more awkward now. It felt like they both had things to say but didn’t know how to string the words together.

“...So, um...” they began, fumbling for a topic. “...Where’d you get your choker?”

“Oh. Uh, just Hot Topic,” he answered, looking away almost sheepishly. “It was on sale, so...”

“Cool, I’ll have to get one,” Y/n hummed, quickly writing it down on their hand.

The conversation came and went throughout the rest of the remaining 40 minutes, but soon enough the detention ended. The class of kids streamed out, Y/n and Peter being the last ones to leave as they trudged out of the school and into the crisp, late-Winter air, clunky shoes and warm boots crunching the powdering of snow on the ground beneath them. They reached the gate, Y/n pointing to where they were going, and the boy paused.

“Hey, uh, you have a cell?” he asked almost hopefully (almost). Y/n looked up at him in surprise; they hadn’t expected to befriend him so soon!

“O-Oh! Yeah, hang on, let me, um-” the fumbled in their coat pockets finally producing the little pink flip-phone, little rainbow and star charms attached and all, clicking through to their contact and holding it up to offer him a view. “Um, here!”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, quickly typing in the contact details on his own, clunky little phone. He looked back at them, almost pouting. “Uh...You were fun to talk to...I’ll talk to you later I guess?”

y/n smiled brightly up at him with a nod, waving cheerfully as they walked away.

...How did this happen to him?

There he was being pissed off at the world when suddenly... They got all fucking cute. How could this not happen to him?!

As he watched them walk away, clutching his phone desperately, he began to grin sinisterly.

He may as well make sure that...his new Darling got home safe, right? He’d get to see their home in the process, after all, and, oh, it was always so dark so early on February nights like these, he wouldn’t want anyone getting any bright ideas, would he?

And so, he stalked after them silently as the sun set, y/n blissfully unaware of the Hell they’d brought upon themself that day.

(I saved this story file that got deleted original from inkblot_skyz)

#your boyfriend game #peter dunbar #yb #yandere #yb peter #your boyfriend #ybf #tw: yandere #yb fandom #yandere games #yandere shitpost #yb your boyfriend #yandere boyfriend #your boyfriend fanfic #yandere song #ybgpeter #peter yb #yb game #goth peter #goth yb

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 2)

I smile and shake my head, because I’m sure that I won’t be. Jude shuffles on the bed to readjust himself, and when he settles, his leg is resting against mine. It’s warm, mine feels cold. I notice it and wait for him to move but he doesn’t, so I just let our skin touch, and I get a shiver from my toes to the top of my head.

“When you go to Berlin,” I start. “Will you know anybody else there?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m going on my own, which I’m kind of excited about.”

“Scared though?”

“Yeah, a little bit I suppose. More excited.”

“I think I’d be scared to leave and be away from everybody I know.”

“Yeah, I get that, but I wasn’t really thinking that way when I applied for university there, it was honestly more about the experience I’d have and what I’d learn from doing my degree there.” He shrugs “Plus when I applied I didn’t actually think I’d be going on my own.” 

“No?”

“My girlfriend at the time and I applied together, actually, but she didn’t get in. It was brutal, we got our letters on the same day. Art schools work like that sometimes, they send their offers out earlier than other courses because your Leaving Cert points aren’t important. I got accepted and she didn’t, so it was a bad day.”

“So you decided to go alone anyway?”

“Yeah it felt like the best choice for me, I just didn’t see myself being in Ireland anymore, I don’t want to waste my early twenties in this horrible recession, and I don’t want to graduate into it with no job prospects. I just need to get away from it.”

“and your girlfriend?”

“We broke up. We stayed together until we finished our exams and then we called it quits. I don’t want to put her through the long distance thing, like, honestly I don’t want to put myself through it, because I know I can’t handle that. I really just… I don’t want any attachments when I go, like, no responsibilities towards anybody else. Having a relationship while trying to navigate the changes that are ahead of me,” He shakes his head. “It would be too hard.”

“Wow. How long were you together?”

“Almost a year.”

That seems like forever to me. Nobody I know has been in a relationship for that long. “It must have been a hard decision.”

“It was, she’s a great person.”

“Well you can always get back together at some point in the future, you know, like maybe someday when you graduate…” I don’t continue because he’s already shaking his head no. 

“I don’t think so – It’s just over, I can’t really see us picking up where we left off, like, nothing to do with her or the relationship per se. It’s just that I feel like I can’t ever go backwards, once it’s done, it’s done for me. I just don’t really hang on to other people in that way.”

I think about how I do. I’m a clinger and I always have been, so his philosophy on life is totally foreign to me, just like the idea of jetting off to some unknown city all on my own without speaking the language or knowing how a single thing in its society operates. I think that he’s much braver than I am for doing it, but I’m a little sad that he’s going. Maybe in a parallel universe he and I would have attended the same art college and been friends who hung around in Dublin together after our respective classes, sitting outside coffee shops in the city and talking about art and sculpture and our silly assignments, but none of that will happen. In a few weeks he’ll be gone forever and I will likely never get to see him again. 

I look down at our legs and move mine away from his. Perhaps it’s not a good idea for us to be touching after all. 

“You look a little sleepy.” He says to me gently, and I am. I’m more than sleepy. It’s so late now that I must be awake for almost forty hours straight, running purely on the last shreds of adrenaline from being with him, but as soon as he mentions sleep my eyelids feel so heavy, and even the hard, flat wall that my back rests against feels cosy. I’m certain I could doze off in this exact position. I admit it, “I am.”

“Then sleep. I’ll leave.”

“Okay.”

He makes a tiny movement towards me and then hesitates and begins to get up. “Okay Evie, I’ll see you again soon.” 

I reach out my weary arms for a hug goodbye and when he leans in to embrace me my face grazes his neck, and he’s warm and his arms are strong and I wonder what the consequences would be if I let myself fall asleep on him right there and then. Maybe he’d be forced to stay here with me all night.

“I’ll text you when I’m free to hang out again.” He says, letting me go.

“Mm”

I lay down to sleep on the bed. The blankets are so warm from where he was sitting. 

Before my eyes drift closed and I surrender to my exhaustion I glimpse him climbing nimbly out the window and hopping down onto the grass outside, disappearing into the darkness and leaving the gauzy curtains fluttering behind him. It’s like he was never even here. 

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #writing #fiction #romance #sims story #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 1

[ronearoundblindly]

Super-Human Resources

Steve Rogers x older!Reader continued from this ask from @nana1000night

Prompt: What if the reader is older than Steve, like...10 years maybe(?) She could see his shyness, ambition, and gentleness when they first meet. She never thought Steve would fall for her because of their age gap and she's insecure about herself...

Warnings: this is very rough for me, really dialogue-heavy and not balanced, etc. I may return to elaborate or edit, but I'm desperate to get on with the end of Dignity. I loved--loved--this dynamic and could totally see this being a bigger thing. I boiled it down to this fluffy/angsty/cute-ending thing. Some language and implied smut. Serious miscommunication.

[adorable dividers that I am obsessed with by @silkholland]

Steve sets down the tablet victoriously. “And…that’s all of the recruits, so let me know what else you’ll need to start the new hires on personnel benefits. We’ll meet back—“

He finally glances at the clock. It’s 6:40 pm and he’s been talking at you for two hours.

“Why didn’t you stop me? I’m sure you have to go home to…”

You offer him the same studied smile you always try to and gently shake your head. “I figured we could just push through and get this over with. That way you didn’t have to make another trip down here tomorrow.”

Steve frowns. “But someone must be waiting for you?”

Way to rub it in, Cap. “No,” you assure him, packing up your laptop and a few files in your old leather briefcase. “No one.”

“No plans? It’s Friday. Don’t people…what is it that people go out and do these days?”

“Alexis next door seemed pretty excited about a pub crawl a few hours ago. Though in another few hours she might regret that. Actually, she’s probably too young to really notice a hangover,” you joke, pushing out your chair when you’re ready to go.

He rushes to stand. “Then at least let me…offer you dinner here. You won’t have to—“

A hand up is all it takes to rein him in. “Not necessary, sir. I’ll be fine at home.”

“I’ll walk you out,” he jumps politely, opening your office door so that you have to squeeze past his beefy body into the empty hall. Everyone really has gone home.

He shoves his hands in his dark jean pockets, and you regulate your breathing as best you can all the way to the door.

“Beautiful bag,” Steve says just as you two reach the lobby.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Looks well-loved,” he adds softly, running one finger along the top seam.

Why is that so sensual? He’s touching a bag. Get it together.

You giggle nervously. “Yes, very—“ adjusting the strap closer on your shoulder “—it was my high school graduation gift. Sent me off to college like a real professional, but I guess that makes it…pretty old.” The flutter in your gut wavers your voice slightly. You can’t wait to leave.

“Still pretty though.” Steve looks you dead in the eyes, and your heart stops.

You gulp finally, breaking from the crystal clear blue gaze that holds you so softly in a make-believe universe for that split second. “Have a good night, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes follow your movements out. “You, too.”

Even when you’re fresh and clean, the long work day washed away, the mirror doesn’t lie. You look tired, skin duller than you remember, eyes crinkling at the corners more than before, a few additional grays dusting your temples.

It’s so stupid to think of him that way, to think he’s looking at this and seeing anything he likes more than he’d find on that gorgeous young hire the next office over or that toned and bright-eyed recruit down the hall or…well, anybody, really.

Your flesh reminds you more of the stretched and worn leather of your briefcase every day. You’ve collected more products to correct you, things designed for anti-you to no avail.

But.

Even if it’s not real, even if it doesn’t mean anything, it’s so nice to be looked at by Steve Rogers. You have to remember he’s not actually interested; he’s just a gentleman raised to be kind.

He does it again. Not right away, but a few weeks later, Steve yammers on about two dozen employee ‘incidents’ that aren’t really incidents for you to handle. You can advise him on which representatives to speak with about follow-up actions with the other agents, or techniques to facilitate healthy dialogue on the subjects, but no more. Please, no more.

5:58 pm and you swear Steve has checked the clock at least three times. He has to know he’s gone over, but he also knows you have nowhere to be and no one special. Shit. That’s pathetic. You should have hinted at some sort of life outside of work.

“Pardon the interruption,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps over the intercom system, “but Captain Rogers, your delivery has arrived.”

“Thank you. Be right up.”

Saved by the AI. “I’ll let you get to it,” you say, smiling and rising from your seat.

“Oh, it’s just dinner. Enough for two.” He motions you to the door like before, his gaze a hair more piercing. “I…brought the pub crawl to us, if you’d like to join me?”

The air conditioning blasts into your office like the frigid arctic, but you are sweating suddenly. You’re covered from head to toe, layered to hide all those ‘indecent’ things about the aging body that no one, young or old, likes to be reminded of. Even if you were muscular with perky curves, your skin is looser and there’s a permanent crease down your chest, the wrinkle from consistently sleeping on your side at night. Higher necklines and longer sleeves became mandatory for you five years ago.

He leads you to the elevators with a light hand at the small of your back. He’s had two dozen beers, one can or bottle of each brew, sent in with an enormous tray of finger foods. You think about adding that you don’t eat that much, though it all looks good and you’d like to eat more—you don’t want to look like a pig in front of Captain America—but he eats over 80% of the tray without batting an eye.

“Metabolism,” he shrugs when your eyes go wide at his fourth full plate.

Must be nice. “I don’t remember what one of those is like,” you quip back.

You two split each beer, and while the cups are small and Steve drinks about two-thirds of them all, you’ve consumed your own six-pack by the end. Conversation became a lot lighter at some point—maybe sample four or five?—and Steve’s thrown out some candid moments about his struggles with modern life.

You agree with him about online dating: horrid. You agree it’s difficult getting to know new people when there’s an expectation of labeling everything (or not labeling anything.) Steve would not have been a free-love hippie, it seems, if he’d been awake during the ‘60s and ‘70s. It’s difficult to know what to do or say around women for him. He says it’s easier around you.

“Maturity deflates that 'pressure to impress' pretty quickly,” you chuckle, a hiccup latched at the end. Damn, is it the alcohol or the carbonation? Maybe it’s simply because there’s no pressure to be coy around someone who can’t be interested in you? Either way, you take another bit of food and forget to worry about how your midsection looks sitting in the chair comfortably, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your blouse. That A/C isn’t helping much again.

“Another drink, ma’am, or more water?”

“Makes me feel old when you call me that.”

“I say it out of respect, but it’s also. I feel like a…a teenager around you, ya know, nervous.” He slides his hand up and down his leg, blushing.

“It's alright. I’m not going to report you for treating me with respect, Steve.” 

“And if I don’t?”

It’s so quiet, you’re not sure you heard right. You take a huge swig of water to justify how loudly you swallow that feeling, that sizzling longing that creeps up like kudzu, taking over your body. Liquid coats your throat, mouth, and lips, yet you’re bone dry with nothing to reply. “Don’t do what?” Did he just threaten to not treat me with respect? As in…something disrespectful? Like…sinful?? Is it a sauna in here?

“I think you’re sexy,” Steve firmly breathes.

You snort—because what else do you do in a dream that’s so ridiculous it gave itself away?—and swirl the rest of your water around, guzzling it. You’ll need to wake up to pee soon if there’re this many fluids involved. Does beer make you dream weirdly? It must if it conjures this subconscious scene. Any minute now, you’ll wake up. You’ll see.

“That’s..uh..a little inappropriate, Captain,” you glob out between clearing your throat and squirming in your chair, “but it’s a good line.”

“I can keep them to myself, my inappropriate thoughts—“ you choke and sputter for a moment, but he continues “—if that’s what you want.” Steve leans forward over his knees, eye-level with your chest and peering up through his lashes while emphasizing a rugged, “ma’am.”

Your body vibrates off of your chair and automatically steps to add some distance between you. Part of your job is anticipating problems and conflicts before they arise, but you’re blind-sided by Steve’s attention. No, can’t be.  If the blood rushing past your ears is this loud, perhaps you heard wrong?

It’s a blur of blue eyes. You’re rattled by his deep timbre, coherency drowned out by fizzy, hoppy, wheat water. The moment Steve’s chest touches yours, and he leans down, thumbing at your temple with a heated palm on your cheek, you have to close your eyes to ground yourself because nothing you’re seeing can be real.

“We’re both adults,” he whispers, the words heavy and dripping down your insides to your core. “We both want the same thing, so we should just—”

“Yes.” You cut him off, crashing your lips to his.

His other hand spreads across your hip and ass.

“Show me how to please you.”

With that, Steve uses your melting gasp as an invitation to claim your mouth.

Steve Rogers really didn’t have anything to worry about. Even without extensive sexual experience, he’s a fast learner. So attentive. You throw him a bone with some advice now and then, a pointer or two, something just to show you remember the deal.

“Most women don’t like ____.”

“Some women prefer ____.”

“Not everyone will do ____.”

Steve takes it all in stride, and he also gets better and better at listening, turning the conversation back to you. Anything he likes in bed, he’s sure to check-in if it’s alright with you. He’ll make someone (or many someones, no judgement) very happy someday.

He takes your cues on giving you space so that he won’t seem clingy to a potential girlfriend. He regularly texts to ask how your day is going or has gone. Best of all, he remains stone-cold professional at work. That makes the most sense for when this arrangement needs a clean break.

Until then, the sex is unbelievable, and it’s so freeing to not worry about keeping yourself lady-like and mysterious over the weeks. You can wake up with your puffy under eyes and tangled hair. You can sit around and read in your baggy pajamas. You don’t have to hide that you do, in fact, function like any other human. You burp, you fart, you poop and pee. Sometimes you just smell. Who cares? You aren’t gross about it, but the amount of time you save not avoiding Steve while your body happens to be a body is a lot. It’s a scary amount of time you would avoid him to appear perfect. Good god, why?

You’re spoiled now. You may never bother with a real relationship again, except you know this will end eventually.

For now, you can eat and drink whatever you want around him. You can say no to things. You can tell him when you dislike something or when you’re bored or want to be alone. You can just be yourself, and it’s awesome. You can say the bad joke and stupid puns that come to mind. You can poke fun at him and laugh at his jabs at you.

It’s awesome. Honestly, get yourself a man to inoculate from womanhood. Easy-peasy, ass, and squeezy.

 His ass? Oh, yeah, because…yeah. Dat ass. It’s worthy of mention and thoroughly distracting.

You’ve even had the gumption to slap it a couple of times. Whatever. He seems to like it. No big deal.

This goes on for a few months. Your time together hasn’t escalated above texting during the week and ‘lessons’ over the weekend. Steve is…well, he’s perfect, really. He won’t need you for much longer, and you’ve made your peace with that, so you’re surprised when Steve comes to your office one Tuesday morning.

“Hey,” he starts with a smile, checking over his shoulder. “Got a minute?” He motions to shut the door.

“Sure,” you shrug, “did I forget someone’s intake today?”

“No. No, nothing like that.” Steve nervously wrings his hands. “Tony’s forcing me to take vacation. He booked this whole resort thing on an island or something.”

“Ok…you probably need it. When was the last time you took time to yourself?”

His scowl suggests that’s exactly what Tony Stark said.

“It’s this weekend.”

You startle at that. “Oh. Well, no problem it’s not like—“

“You want to come?”

Now you’re speechless. Does he think he can’t handle traveling with a significant other? Does he get irritable when away and need practice handling it?

“I know it’s last minute,” he continues, “but I’d love for you to join me. You deserve a break, too.”

You agree, and suddenly realize that you haven’t vacationed in a long time for the same reason: you didn’t want to go alone.

The place is spectacular, and how did you ever doubt when you knew Tony fucking Stark booked it?!

Steve did great on the trip out, stopped at the convenience store when you forgot your motion-sickness meds, was very patient when you couldn’t lift your bag to the overhead by yourself, and walked slower than he probably thinks is humanly possible down the long terminal to the resort shuttle. His average-joe ball cap did nothing to hinder his Greek-god stature, but you both got lucky that no one openly recognized him.

He’s been fun and playful, the perfect mix of caring and care-free. He’ll make a lovely boyfriend to someone, and you’re bubbling with excitement to tell him he’s ready.

“Ready for what?” Steve smiles at you over the dinner table in the fancy, seafood restaurant in the main hotel.

“To graduate,” you chuckle, lifting the glass to toast him.

He lifts his own glass with a confused look. “What exactly am I graduating from?”

You take another sip of champagne in triumph. Eh, so you’ve had a few glasses. Who cares? You made Steve Rogers into perfect boyfriend material, and he’ll be comfortable with himself that way from now on.

“What do I call it,” you muse, “my little School of Sexual Awakening? Ha!” You’re so funny, but you have to do better. Steve doesn’t get the joke yet. “I mean, it’s a good thing, Steve. You’re going to make someone very happy after this.”

His face drops like a stone.

“What,” he deadpans.

“I know. I know you’re probably nervous, but you really are ready. You just gotta bite the bullet and put yourself out there—“

“But…I’m with you.”

“No, like a real relationship, with someone you’re actually interested in.“

He’s silent, so silent the murmuring of other patrons seems to get sucked into the dense void of noise around his intense glare

“I’m sorry,” Steve says in a voice deeper than usual. “What do you think we’ve been doing?”

“Practicing. Getting you ready to get back out there in the modern dating world.”

“We’re…” Steve puts down his glass so carefully that his delicacy might be the thing that breaks it. “We’re not dating?”

You’re starting to think the alcohol has made you less understandable.

“Well, we…you wanted practice. You were feeling uncomfortable around women and worried about trying online dating. You didn’t want to go through a bunch of beginnings of relationships without knowing how to sustain them, right, so we…”

“Started dating because I’m comfortable with you.”

Yeah, but not like that. That’s not funny. He’s not great with the jokes yet, you remind yourself.

“Right, so there was little to no pressure because we’re both adults.”

“—fairly certain that’s still true—” His steel gaze is hardened and unwavering.

“And that since we both wanted...ya know, to feel good and less uncomfortable…then we should just…”

“Date,” he interjects.

“…fuck,” you finish. “Wait. What?”

“I was saying we should date when you kissed me.” Steve adjusts stiffly in the thin dining room chair, and hiss-whispers across the table, "have you been pity fucking me this whole time?!"

Even though you’re brain grinds to a halt, your skin crawls and your insides burn. Your legs start moving without your ok. They’re racing down the stone path to your shared hut so fast that Steve has to jog to keep up, but he has the decency not to speak until you’re both behind the closed door of the bungalow.

“You…you’ve gotten better at flirting with the girl’s in my department.” Talking with your hands doesn’t seem to be helping you process this any faster; it’s just a nice way to burn off some of this terror.

“I talk to other women, yeah.” He looks a lot calmer than you. He’s not shaking and pacing around. “It’s easier to when I can politely say I’m seeing someone. I thought I was taken. I never flirted with anyone other than—well, NOT you, apparently.”

“You’re serious???” 

Steve needs to learn the finer points of a joke if he thinks this is a good one. He starts yelling back anyway.

“Why do you think I am not serious? What makes you think that’s all this was?”

“You wanted practice! You said so.”

“No,” he quits screaming, “I wished I had more practice before finding someone I wanted—” Steve blushes ferociously “—so I wouldn’t feel…unsure about…you know. We are—I mean, I thought we were dating.”

You have to laugh. “Steve, you don’t want to date me.”

“I have been for months.” He’s getting closer.

“No, but I’m…I’m…You can’t…I wouldn’t have…We were having fun. I thought I was…like a stepping stone or something.”

His arms reach out as if to grab your shoulders, but he makes no contact. “We had fun. As a couple. Why would I use you for anything else?!”

“I’m average, Steve. I’m old!”

“I’m a hundred and five.”

You slap his arms away. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Currently, I’m convinced I have never known what you mean.”

“It’s not funny!”

“That we can agree on,” Steve bites back.

“It’s not funny,” you repeat through tears.

“Sweetheart,” Steve tries with sympathetic eyes, “why? Did I not make you feel loved? You thought I didn’t want you? How?!” 

“Because.” It’s the only word that will come out as he takes you in hand and pulls you to his chest. Everything reels around you. It’s not your fault. You were protecting yourself. You were being logical and friendly. You were helping him out. You were genuine but…completely guarded in the most important way.

“So I have a couple of essential questions.” Steve brushes his thumb over that gray patch at your temple. “Any chance you’d like to date me?” He huffs at the whine and frown drawn from you. “I should specify. This would be real dating, where neither of us is flirting with—“

You shove at his chest indignantly. He plants a kiss on your forehead in response. 

“—or dating other people, and we are both actively aware that we are, in fact, dating each other. Do you want that?”

You roll your face deeper into his chest, nodding.

“Ok, and any chance that before having an actual, real-life, both-of-us-knowing-we-are-dating-each-other first date you’d agree to live in this room with me for three days?”

That earns him a real slap to the side, and eventually, several slaps to his glorious tush.

“Just because I behaved like you were every other man I know…”

“It’s cute,” he whispers, “in a slightly insulting way, but it’s cute.”

A long hug follows, one where you both lean in and hold tight. He plants another kiss to your forehead every time you snuggle further.

“Now…” Steve lets the word rumble around in his chest. He knows what that deep sound does to you. You said all women would like that, so he plans to reserve it for only you. “May I prove how much I want you, ma’am?”

If you enjoyed this work, please consider liking, commenting, and/or reblogging. Thank you for reading!

SR Taglist: @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fallinallinmendes @im-a-slut-for-fluff

#ro answers #steve rogers #fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x you #fluff and feels #fluff and romance #light angst #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #older!reader #THAT'S NOT A TAG??? #older reader #silver fox reader #NONE OF THOSE ARE TAGS WHHHHYYYYYY #honestly now i'm just angry #now it's gonna be a series out of pure spite

[everlark777]

holding you is like the new past

next | previous

chapter three

“can you believe that asshole” i slam my hands down.

“STAY OUT OF MY WAY?? i am here at this school and i earned my place. how dare he!”

our cat, titan’s head poked up and looked around lazy from all the yelling.

“i can't believe him. everyone in the department should know how ruthless he is”

mikasa had been egging on my anger for the past ten minutes as we ate microwaveable ramen on the couch. mikasa and i had been living together for two years and she had seen her fair share of my outrages involving anyone and everyone in the department, but i could tell this one was tiring her out. it had been all i could talk about for the past week and with the next class being tomorrow, i could tell mikasa didn’t see a break in this anger for a while.

“i’m sorry. i know i’ve been talking about this with you so much” i said head in my hands.

“it’s just i can’t believe him. he actually thinks like that, and to think i had a slight crush on him?! i don’t even want to have a conversation with him much less spend my time with him”

“your feelings are valid, he is a douchebag and you’re going to prove him wrong, i know you will”

mikasa’s words calmed me. i didn’t have to follow his rules, much less listen to a word he says.

“i’m going to go research for our project” i said standing up heading towards my room.

“atta girl!! good for you” mikasa beamed up at me clearly happy to see my change of attitude.

i cracked my door leaving space for titan to come in. i turned on my lamp and opened my laptop. okay, I could accomplish this. It was 9:07, if i started right now i could easily finish around 2 a.m. and still get a few hours of sleep. but i should probably make some coffee beforehand.

—--

i ended up not going to sleep that night, but the next day i walked into class with most of our first project researched out.

i made sure to be early just so i could have the upper hand and made sure to sit in the seat he had “claimed” last class.

armin walked in ten minutes early but still not earlier than me. i made sure not to look up and meet his gaze but felt him when he sat down.

with less than a glance, i handed him a folder with the research i worked on all last night. i had placed a sticky note on top. in neat handwriting, much like his own said, “my half of the research, do with it what you will”.

i felt the small smile creep on my face as i watched him read it.

“what is this?” he scoffed, not as much a question as a demand.

“thought it was pretty obvious” my voice came out sterner than i thought it would and felt a ting of pride.

armin made a face i couldn’t quite place. “well, i thought i made it obvious you wouldn’t have to do any work,” he said as he sat in the seat next to me. once again i felt the nervousness of him being so close and it made me jumpy. his presence intimidated me and i wasn’t sure how i was going to be around him for much longer.

“and i’m making it obvious that i don’t agree with that,” my voice came out strong not letting in on how fast my heart was beating and my palms sweating.

i’m not a confrontational person. i don’t enjoy going out of my comfort zone to defend myself either, but something about armin had me not willing to give in.

“i’ll look over it after class and get back to you” he shrugged off the words as he placed his things on the desk.

i was taken back. did he just give in so easily? why did he not continue to fight back? unless he has some ulterior motive? maybe he thought i would go to the dean?

“so that’s it, you're just going to look over it?” i turned to him, clearly taken aback.

“what else would you like me to do?” his question almost sounded genuine.

i began to lose grip on my perception of him. he made me more angry than i’ve ever felt but now i found myself just confused.

when i started my response, i was cut off by the professor as they started the lecture. i forced my attention up front, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my answer. he would have been able to see it written on my face, that he surprised me.

i fidgeted all class, i bounced my leg and picked at the skin on my fingers. i found myself abruptly changing highlighters for my notes, anything to keep myself busy to help the time past.

when class ended i quickly packed my things, ready to go out the door before noticing armin hadn’t moved. he was looking at me as if he was waiting for a response. i allowed myself to glance at him and i saw him give me a small smile.

“do you need something? i have somewhere to be” i snapped, lying to get away as quickly as possible.

armin reached into his bag to grab a sticky note and began writing on it.

“here’s my number then so we can talk about the project another time” he handed me the sticky note and written in his perfect handwriting was his name and number.

“i can just talk about it now” i forced out, not being able to imagine having to talk to him outside of this classroom. the idea made my head hurt.

“well you said you had somewhere to be. i would hate to make you late” he offered politely.

more confused than ever, i turned and walked out of the door leaving him with his things still out on the desk. my head was spinning. confusion for the whole situation consuming my thoughts. i walked out of the building and started my journey back to my apartment.

when i got home, i attached the sticky note still in my hand to the fridge for mikasa to see when she got home and with that crashed into my bed to finally get some sleep.

#armin x reader #armin aot #armin arlert #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #fanfic

[ashboy-3]

New Beginnings

Fandom: Danny Phantom Prompt: White Crow Character: Danny, Clockwork, Lancer Words: 1,109 Summary: With Sam and Tucker out for the week Danny is having a tiring week. That is until Clockwork stops by and gives him some news Warnings: strong language

Danny was having an off day. An off week. An off month maybe even. He was having to fight ghost after ghost after ghost for the past week. He’s gotten no sleep and it’s been killing him.

Sam was off on some event her parents dragged her to while Tucker was visiting his uncle out of the city. It was killing him. While his two friends were excused from school Danny was stuck. Sleeping in class accidentally and missing school days. It was a lot, and he was struggling. The last time he struggled as much was possibly when he first got his ghost powers.

He knew that there was no way to fight it so instead he chooses to just yawn and make his way towards Lancer’s next class. He would have to work hard to stay awake since his two best friends were not here to take notes for him.

The plan did not work as well as he wanted it to, Lancer had to shake him awake, a worried expression on his face, so Danny wouldn’t be late to his next class.

“Is everything okay Mr. Fenton?” Lancer asked, he figured it was safe considering everyone else already left for their next class.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine Mr. Lancer. It’s just harder without Sam and Tucker here,” Danny shrugged off the old teacher’s worry.

“Well Mr. Foley and Ms. Manson will both be back before the end of the week is up. Is there a reason why you’ve been sleeping through my classes?” he crossed his arms. It felt like he was looking in Danny’s soul.

“No sir. I’ve just been working hard at some after school things. Sam and Tucker normally help me. It’ll be better once they get back. I’ll try not to fall asleep tomorrow. I promise!” Danny yelled at him, hearing the late bell ring, rushing towards his next class.

The day continued for Danny, skipping gym to take care of a few small blobs that found their way into the school. Last thing Danny wanted was for the small helpless blobs to set off the ghost alarms.

After school he quickly made his way back to his house, finding it empty, he untenanted the thermos into the portal.

He flew back up to his room, hopefully he could get some homework started before his patrol, or worse a ghost shows up before that.

An hour or two had to have passed when his ghost sense went off.

“Time in.” a medallion was placed over his neck. “Working hard young Daniel?”

“Clockwork? What’s wrong? Did Dan get out!” Danny was quick to change into ghost form, ready for a heavy fight.

“Calm down young one,” the ancient ghost chuckled. “I do not come bearing bad news,” He shifted from an adult to an older man.

“Then why are you here?” Dann took a seat at his desk once again, not changing out of ghost form.

“Well, I have an announcement to make.” Danny really didn’t want to deal with the older ghost dramatic pauses right now. “I pronounce you, Daniel Phantom, next in line for the throne of the Infinite Realms!” Danny could swear he saw a smile on Clockworks’s face, but he was to shock; flabbergasted.

“I’m sorry?” he said after two minutes of pure silence.

“The council has been fighting ever since Pariah was fully defeated. They’ve been looking to crown the next ghost and a decision had to be made,” He spoke as if Danny was the obvious choice

“No. Why me? I don’t deserve to be king! I don’t want to be king! What would I even do! No! Just No! Give it to someone else!” Danny was pacing around his room, not realizing that his feet were slowly leaving the ground.

“You defeated Pariah Dark. The choice was between Vlad or you and the council has made a decision. You were vouched for by Princess Dora, Pandora, Frostbite and many other ancients. I even gave my vote,” Clockwork informed him.

“Theirs’s a council? And they vouched for me?”  Danny was truly surprised at everything that he was hearing.

“Like I said their were two candidates. Vlad or You. Frist the council had to narrow down their options for the throne. Next, they needed to be vouched for. With the two choices only one or two out of the entire council voted for Vlad. You won the majority rule. We are on the third step. I have informed you. This is where you make the decision to try for the throne. If you refuse then we go on to Vlad,” Clockwork spoke from memory.

“Okay so if I don’t accept it goes to Vlad and if I do then what?”

“Once you accept, we set up a meeting with the council. There you will go preliminaries and answer any questions. Once all that is done, if the council accepts you then you will be crowned as Prince until the council deems you worthy of a crown. After that you will be titled prince. A different ceremony will be set up for that, where you will receive the ring of rage. There is more after, but that is the step that you are talking about.”

“Do I have time to think about it?” Danny asked.

“I wish. Sadly, the time is only what I can give you here. Once I return it to normal the council will be waiting a decision. I know it’s a big one, but I would not be vouching for you if I didn’t believe in you,” Clockwork put a supportive hand on the younger ghosts shoulder.

“I’ll do it. I’ll became the next Ghost King,” Danny decided after a minute.

“I will alert the council of your decision. The road ahead is hard, but very much worth it. You will be a good king.”

“Did you see that in my timeline?” Danny rolled his eyes.

“The second you were nominated for king you timeline has been blocked from me. You’re future is fully up yo you. I’ll be letting you know when your first council meeting is. Until then you take care young prince,” Clockwork bowed, disappearing in a swirl of time.

Danny couldn’t believe his luck. He needed to tell Sam and Tucker. Needed to tell Jazz. He needed to finish homework. He needed to go on patrol.

But at that moment all he could do was see at his bed looking out of his window, a strange feeling forming in his stomach when he saw a white crow perched outside of his window, disappearing as if it was a trick of the light.

#ectoberhaunt23 #ehday3 #day 3 #eh white crow #white crow #ghost king danny #danny fenton #danny phantom #mr lancer #clockwork

[intheticklecloset]

One Last Hurrah (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

Summary: When Hinata is late to volleyball practice right before Nationals, the team deals with its worries by ganging up on Kageyama once again.

A/N: This one has been on my Wish List for a while! I wanted to progress Kageyama’s storyline further by having him learn to trust his other teammates without Hinata around to stop them or keep them in check. I’m really proud of how this turned out, considering it took me longer than usual to write. Thank you for your patience! Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 2,118

@myreygn​ 

~~~

This was weird.

Eleven members of the Karasuno volleyball team sat in a nearly completed circle on the floor, an obvious gap between Kageyama and Tsukishima that the former was very much wishing would be filled.

Hinata was late. Late. To volleyball practice.

And not just any practice. The last one before Nationals next week.

Tsukki glared at Kageyama for the second time that morning, as though it were his fault they were missing the redheaded menace. “Have you heard anything yet?”

“It’s not like we keep tabs on each other all the time,” Kageyama muttered back. He met Daichi’s gaze and shrugged. “He hasn’t texted me. I don’t know anything. We don’t even live near each other. How am I—”

“Okay, relax,” Daichi said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation. We all know Hinata wouldn’t bail on us this close to Nationals. He’s far too dedicated to this team to be late unless something was up.”

The rest of the circle nodded and murmured their agreement.

“Well, we can’t start the meeting without him,” Suga pointed out. “So what do we do? Should we go ahead and warm up and reconvene once he gets here?”

Daichi thought for a moment, glanced around the circle, and nodded. “Yeah, that might be for the best.”

Everyone split off into uneven teams to do their warm-ups – stretching, jogging a few laps, pairing off to spike and receive. Kageyama and Suga took the setter positions on either side of the net to set for the oncoming spikers. Noya was lined up to receive on the same side as the first-year and couldn’t help but notice how he kept glancing toward the door, growing more and more confused and maybe even apprehensive with each look over his shoulder.

Another half an hour went by, and still, no Hinata.

This was decidedly weird.

“Any word from carrot top?” Tsukishima asked Daichi, still appearing annoyed that their routine was thrown off because of the usually overly punctual decoy.

Daichi checked his phone. He shook his head. “Not yet. He hasn’t even read the text. If he’s still not here in a few minutes I’ll ask Mr. Takeda if the school got a call from his mom that he’s sick today or something.”

“He’d better not be sick this close to Nationals,” Kageyama muttered under his breath, having overheard the report. “I’ll kill him if he is.”

Noya laughed, nudging him in the side. “Chill out, man. He’ll be here, and even if he’s not, nothing short of death would keep him from coming to Nationals with us. It’ll be fine. Although I’m sure he’d be touched that you’re so worried about him, Kags~”

Kageyama looked both offended and like he’d been caught red-handed at once. “What? I’m not worried about that little moron! I’m just saying if he screws up our odds by getting sick, I’ll personally put him six feet under when he shows his face again.”

Tsukki rolled his eyes as he walked by. “Dramatic much, your majesty?”

“Shut up! You’re paranoid that he’s not here, too, you jerk.”

Noya stepped between the two before the blonde could whirl around and continue the fight. “All right, settle down, guys. We’re all worried that Hinata’s not here. But it’s nothing to get so worked up over.”

Daichi checked his phone again.

“You,” Noya continued, pointing at Tsukishima. “Don’t be mean. And you—” He turned to Kageyama, with an added pinch to his side. “Loosen up. We need you at your best.”

Kageyama squeaked instinctively, jumping aside and immediately covering his mouth, as if that could take back the sound that had drawn half his team’s attention with one syllable.

Noya’s eyes lit up.

“Don’t,” Kageyama said hurriedly, taking another step back.

“Hey, guys,” Daichi said, trying to get their attention.

“I have an idea,” the libero said mischievously, turning his fingers into claws and wiggling teasingly. “We all need to just chill out instead of worrying so much. How about we all tickle Kageyama again? This will be our last chance as a team, after all~”

“But Hinata’s not here,” Kageyama protested, heart racing nervously as he saw a few more smirks join Noya’s. Hinata wasn’t here to help keep them from going too far. If they started now…

“So? He tickles you all the time. I don’t think he’d mind if we had a go on our own for a change.” Noya winked at him teasingly. “Or do you just really miss him that badly?”

Kageyama glared at him. “It’s not like that! I just—”

Daichi tried once more. “Guys?”

But Noya was already moving, and so was Yamaguchi, and then Ennoshita, and then Tanaka, and soon any kind of control that may have still existed in the room was gone. Kageyama let out a shriek as he went down, yelling and protesting the whole way even as desperate giggles started to bubble up out of him at their prodding fingers.

Suga came to stand beside Daichi, glancing over his shoulder at the phone he still held in his hand. The captain tilted the screen so he could see. “Should we tell them?”

“I was trying to,” Daichi replied, pocketing the device and watching in amusement as their resident grump began to laugh in earnest, being pinned and tickled by his teammates. “But at this point, I’m just going to join in.”

Suga beamed. “Me, too.”

“Wahahahahahait! Wait! Plehehehehease!” Kageyama squealed, squirming and bucking as more fingers than he could count scribbled in his underarms, dug into his ribs, squeezed his hips and knees. He tried to kick but quickly had his legs pinned down as well as his arms, once again stuck at the mercy of his teammates as he’d been a couple of times already this season. He wouldn’t have been so freaked out about it if Hinata had gotten his butt to the most important practice of the year. “Guhuhuhuhuys! Nohohohohohot nohohohohohow! H-Hihihihihinata—!”

“Chill out, man, he’ll get here eventually,” Tanaka replied teasingly, interpreting his desperate cries as a sign that he wanted the redhead to be part of this madness, too. Which technically he did, but not for the reasons they were thinking.

Kageyama’s eyes darted to Daichi and Suga just as they knelt down to find an opening and join in on the fun. “Plehehehehehease, wahahahahahait! Dohohohohohon’t!”

When they merely grinned at him and started tickling anyway, a million old memories resurfaced, causing Kageyama to panic. In his mind’s eye he only saw his middle school teammates. They’d never once stopped when he screamed for them to, never once let up on his death spot no matter how purple his face got from not being able to breathe. It was all fun and games to them, but to the setter…

“Vohohohoholleyball! Volleyball! Plehehehehehease, stohohohohohohop!” he begged through his forced laughter.

At first, Daichi and the others were confused by his randomly yelling the word in the midst of his mirth. But then the captain realized it had to be a safe word of some kind and hurriedly told everyone to let up and give him a minute to breathe and communicate.

Kageyama was surprised when his safe word actually worked with his teammates who weren’t Hinata. He blinked and caught his breath as he looked around at their concerned faces, and all of a sudden he realized how wrong he’d been to assume that the Karasuno volleyball club would be anything other than playful and respectful.

“I…I’m sorry,” he said at last, propping himself up on his elbows once his arms were free. “I was afraid if Hinata weren’t here to stop you, you wouldn’t stop at all, and I…I panicked.”

Suga patted his leg gently. “Do you want us to stop? Are you not comfortable?”

Kageyama glanced around again. But he didn’t have to take long to know what his answer was. “No, I’m okay. It’s just…there’s one spot…”

Noya traced his own bottom ribs just above his stomach. “Here, right?”

Kageyama’s relief intensified so much he could have collapsed right back on the ground then and there. He nodded. “Yeah. I’m not ready for that spot yet.”

“If we promise not to tickle you there,” Daichi asked, “and stop when you say ‘volleyball,’ will you trust us not to go too far?”

The setter bit his lip, trying to keep himself from smiling in anticipation. “Y-Yeah. I trust you.”

“Then give these back,” Ennoshita said playfully, grabbing his arms and pulling them above his head again. “Let us show you we’re nothing like the jerks you played with in middle school.”

“I already k-knoohohohow thahahahahat.” Kageyama’s words ended in giggles when his friends gradually picked up where they’d left off, tickling his knees, hips, ribs, and underarms all at once. For several moments he allowed himself to relax and snicker openly. Then the first of what would surely be many hands slipped under his jersey to tickle his bare belly, and he choked on a snort and dissolved into laughter, squirming helplessly and elatedly on the gym floor.

“Aww, your tummy is still super ticklish, huh?” Noya teased. He must have been the first to go for the spot; Kageyama couldn’t entirely tell from his position at their playful mercy.

“Gah! Nohohohohoho, don’t t-tehehehehehease me!” Kageyama whined, though it was obvious he didn’t entirely mean it.

Tanaka grinned evilly, glancing around at everyone. “Oh? I say we should all tease you at once, just to see how flustered you get, ticklish little first-year!”

Kageyama yelped out a “no!” before suddenly being bombarded with teases from all sides. His teammates cooed and reminded him how ticklish he was and how fun it was to make him react, and the setter squeezed his eyes shut and blushed and laughed even louder, both from the effect of their words and an attempt to drown them out all at once.

“Stahahahahahap it! Guhuhuhuhuhuys! AH!! NONONO WAHAHAHAHAHAIT!!” he squealed suddenly, trying to jerk his leg out of the way when someone dug into his knee pit. “NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!! NOT THE KNEHEHEHEHEHEHEES!!”

Yamaguchi grinned and kept it up anyway.

For the next few minutes the members of the Karasuno volleyball team pinned and tickled their young setter with all the playfulness they could manage, always staying away from the spot he’d declared off-limits but finding ways to make him throw his head back and cackle out his harder laughter anyway. Kageyama was so caught up in the fun of it all that he lost his sense of where he was, only knowing ticklish sensations and unstoppable giggles until finally – after no one knew how long – the gym doors burst open and the final member of their team arrived a full hour late to the meeting.

“I’m here!” Hinata yelled, dropping his bag by the door and sprinting over to them. “I’m so sorry I’m late! My mom fell and hurt herself this morning and my sister was freaking out and I had to make sure they were both okay and I really wanted to be here on time but there wasn’t anything I could do about it and hey is Kageyama okay why are you all crowded around him like that?!”

Everyone had stopped the instant he barged in, staring at him as he spewed words at them that only kind of made sense for how fast they were flying from his mouth.

After a long pause, Daichi cleared his throat. “First off, is your mom okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good now. I helped her get to the living room so she’d be comfortable and then had to walk my sister to school since she couldn’t take her, then I sprinted over here as fast as I could. I’m so sorry I’m late!”

“It’s okay,” Suga told him calmly, smiling. “We found a way to pass the time while we were waiting for you.”

It was then that Hinata looked – really looked – at Kageyama for the first time. It took him all of two seconds to take in the blushing face, bright eyes, the jersey that had ridden up to expose his belly, and the way everyone else was either pinning him down or had hands on various ticklish spots.

“We’re gang tickling him?” Hinata gasped excitedly. “Is it too late for me to join?”

Kageyama whimpered, lips wobbling as he tried to suppress a giddy smile, knowing exactly what was coming next.

Everyone looked at him again and grinned.

Daichi chuckled. “I think we can spare a few more minutes.”

And Kageyama wound up laughing even louder now that his best friend had made his circle of teammates complete.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #hinata #kageyama #daichi #suga #asahi #yamaguchi #tsukishima #ennoshita #tanaka #noya #karasuno #playful #trust #comfortable #platonic #friends #tickling #ticklish #tickle

[atomsminecraft]

hi there! can i request our lovely headmaster lou with an S/O who is an artist (painter)? thanks xoxo

Here you go 💕

It's not entirely with the S/O part but I thought this would be cute and this was also the only idea I could come up with 😅

I hope you like it!

________

I turn the pages of my tomb and I continue to try and read what’s written. Why does this magical world need to have things written in Latin? My mind quickly wanders countless times, thinking of literally anything else as I try to rack my brain to try and put the pieces of the tomb together. Why did I agree to this again? I think back to some hours earlier…

“Headmaster? It’s MC. You called for me?” I am standing in front of the headmaster’s office door.

“You may enter.” I take a deep breath, open the door, and walk in. I wonder why I was called here… Did I unknowingly do something wrong? “Miss MC, do take a seat.” The headmaster smiles at me as he gestures to the chair and I sit down.

“Did I do anything wrong?” I ask.

“I just wished to check how you were doing in your lectures.” A teapot magically appears and tea is poured then handed to me, “Is that alright with you?”

Can’t he just check it in other ways? Oh well. I won’t pass up this opportunity. Especially since this is a rare opportunity to talk to the person I’m most interested in learning about! “Oh! Uh, sure! I don’t see why not.” The headmaster’s smile brightens a little once I accept.

“Well, have your lectures been going well? It’s been but a few months since you came to the magical realm.”

“Lectures have been going well. I’m mostly struggling with things that everyone here seems to think is normal information to know like plants, animals, and other things people here learn in schools…”

“Ah, I see… You seemed to be blending in just fine, nonetheless. Your magic has also improved greatly. You’ve been able to use magic for a month, correct?”

“Yes, it’s been around a month. Rio and Sherry have helped me exponentially with controlling it. They even told me they think I could pass the next rank exam!” I smile as I remember their words of encouragement. “It’ll be a relief to finally become a B rank!”

“That’s sensational news, Miss MC! I’m happy to see your progress! I have faith you’ll progress in your magic swiftly.”

“Thank you! My only worry is that I won’t pass the written exam portion…” I look down at my cup, “I could study all I want but I’m not confident I’ll be able to pass even if I study for an entire week… There’s still a lot of information about this world that I don’t know so I’m not sure I’ll know what to study so I can pass.” When I look up I see the headmaster seemingly thinking.

“How about this,” he starts, looking up at me, “allow me to help you study for a few days to help you catch up on a few things. How does that sound?”

“Wait, really?!” I squeak in surprise. “Do you mean it?! Aren’t you too busy? I wouldn’t want to bother you and cause you more work…”

“Is that a yes, then?” I quickly nod and he smiles at me.

That brings the end of that memory. Wow, it’s very quiet in the headmaster’s office. Why is it so quiet? I look up from the tomb and I look to Lou’s desk.

“Huh?” My eyes widen at what I’m seeing: The headmaster asleep. Wow, he seems very peaceful and pretty when sleeping… I subconsciously grab a small notepad from my pocket. Maybe if I’m quick enough… I draw a quick sketch of Lou sleeping. This is a rare sight I’m definitely not letting go to waste! When I finish I admire my work. It’s not like the real thing but it’s definitely something. He really looks like a work of art while sleeping. Like a beautiful magical statue or something. I smile to myself as I look at the drawing.

I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder, “What were you drawing?”

“Ack!” The notepad falls from my hands as I golt in surprise. I look behind me to see it’s the headmaster very much awake. “Oh! Uh- Nothing!” I quickly grab the notepad and I try to stuff it in my pocket. The headmaster laughs(Probably at me if I’m being honest…) and I feel my cheeks heat up. He then walks up to stand next to me.

“Was that me? May I see it?” I blush more and I hesitantly hand him the notepad. He studies the drawing and I feel a cold sweat on my neck. Does he hate it? He probably thinks it’s weird that I drew him while sleeping… God, I wish this chair would just suck me in so I can get away!

I try my best to think of any excuse as my words rase out to me, “I’m so sorry for drawing you without your permission! I can throw it away if you wa-”

“You have great talent, Miss MC.”

“Huh?” I’m surprised into silence and I look at him in shock.

“You draw really well. Do you have any other drawings?” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Maybe more drawings of me?” He laughs. I blush more at that question and I nod.

“Only a few…” I decide not to lie. “Again, I’m sorry for drawing you without your permission, especially when you were sleeping. I shouldn’t have done that…”

“I don’t mind. I would however appreciate knowing about the drawings so I may see them once you’re done.” I can’t find any words to respond so I simply nod at him. “I apologize for falling asleep, however. I’m glad something good came out of it, however.” I stay silent and it’s awkward for a few seconds before he continues. “Well, are there any questions about what you’ve read so far?”

“No, not at the moment. There were some very interesting topics in it, however!”

“I’m glad you found it interesting. If you want, you may borrow those tombs and then return them once you’re finished studying them.”

“Really? Thank you! I would really appreciate it!” We beam at each other. The headmaster really does look like a work of art god damn… I think he can feel my gaze on him.

“Did I inspire more artistic inspiration in you?” He teases me and I quickly snap out of it.

“No! Nothing like that! I’m sorry for staring!” My cheeks are definitely redder than they should be. I eventually leave the headmaster’s office. Sherry, seemingly smelling the opportunity, runs into me and immediately notices the blush on my face and she starts teasing me about it. Today will definitely be a long day…

#court of darkness #court of darkness voltage #headmaster lou #court of darkness lou #court of darkness fanfiction #court of darkness fanfic

[redowlkitchen]

Dulcimer Update: Unintentional Hiatus Edition

Hi friends,

It’s been a while since I’m made a dulcimer update here, but I have a few things I want to share, so here we are. :) Eventually, I’d like to turn this into a video on my YouTube channel. This is a good place to get my thoughts down first.

I took a break from playing dulcimer this fall.

This past summer, I had big plans for my dulcimer. I was going to play for at least an hour or two each day, learn tons of new pieces, record plenty of videos, and generally use my extra time to get ahead with the channel and further my skills as a player. Things started out well relatively well. I was booked to perform at a local farmers market in mid-July, so I was focused on polishing my current repertoire once school ended. Performing at a farmers market has been my goal for a long time, so I was thrilled to finally have an opportunity to do so.

However, after the market, I experienced what I can only describe as a musical collapse. All of a sudden, I wasn’t particularly interested in playing my dulcimer for any length of time. It took a lot of effort to get myself in front of my instrument, and a lot of times, I wouldn’t even make it through my warmup before I walked away. This wasn’t a practice rut. I’ve been in those before, and I’m pretty good at pulling myself out of them relatively quickly. This time though, my usual tricks didn’t work. This felt like something more. I decided to give myself a mindful "vacation” from my instrument. I had just reached a longtime goal in performing at the farmers market. Maybe I just had to reorganize my thoughts before I could continue. That week turned into two weeks, which turned into three. Even when I decided I just had to get back to it, I felt completely uninspired. I wasn’t interested in learning new tunes, not even Christmas pieces (I usually start at the beginning of August!--sorry neighbors), and I had very little to show my teacher during the few lessons we had during this time. (She was so patient with me and I really appreciate that.)

Once the school year started, it felt easy to explain away why I wasn’t playing my dulcimer. I was busy with work and I’m also in grad school. I didn’t have time to play, or if I did, I was way too tired from the long day. Most days, I would look at my dulcimer, say, “I should play today,” and then end up not playing. I didn’t like the feeling of ignoring my instrument. Back when I first started with the hammered dulcimer, I would play for a few months and then take a few months off before repeating the cycle again and again. I know how much skill you lose when you do that. (Plus, think of all the skills you’re simply not getting a chance to learn during that time. It’s a double loss.) Still, I just couldn’t get myself to play more than a few minutes at a time here and there--not enough to really do anything.

Everything finally clicked back into place a few weeks ago. I’m not entirely sure why and I’m not going to question it. I’m just happy to be playing! I does probably have something to do with the Christmas season though, as I truly do adore playing Christmas music on my dulcimer. Check out my latest recording!

Why did I effectively take a four month break from my hammered dulcimer when it’s something I feel passionate about and brings me joy? I don’t think I’ll ever really have a definitive answer, but I do have a few thoughts.

The farmers market had been my main instrumental goal for so long that maybe I didn’t have a “direction” to head after it was complete.

It gets ridiculously hot in my apartment during the summer. Maybe it was as simple as the heat killing my creative drive and then the time needed to “reboot.”

On a more serious note, my school year ended very badly in June. Maybe this was my mind’s way of lightening my load so that I could mentally recover.

Maybe I just honestly needed a break!

Whatever the reason for my latest dulcimer hiatus was, it feels really good to be back to daily practice! I’m enjoying my holiday music and I can’t wait to share it all with you--plus, all the new tunes I have in store for the New Year.

Any musicians out there reading this--have you ever gone through a hiatus like this? Do you know how it happened? How did you get back? I’d love to hear from you!

I hope everyone can enjoy the holiday season! Thanks for reading my extra long post. :)

#dulcimer update #hammered dulcimer #music #learning music

[seita]

— better than (m.)

pairing : iwaizumi/reader

wordcount : 3.087

genre : fluff, smut, pwp

cw : college!au, athletic trainer!iwaizumi

tags : implied age gap (hes 27 reader is in college- age nkt specified. he's older tho), size kink, dom!iwa, pussy job (a lil bit), multiple orgasms, sensitivity kink (if u squint), squirting, fingering, creampie, aftercare.

note : this was just an excuse to write about how iwaizumi is better than any other boy <3 thank u to @toshisins for beta'ing this for me <3

+ summary : you're so tired of dumb college boys who hump and dump, with no stroke game, and can never even try to get you off. that is, until you meet 27 year old iwaizumi hajime.

When you first met Iwaizumi Hajime at the bar near your college campus, you noticed how good looking he was. Well, that was an understatement - he was tall, fit with tanned skin and a confident aura that made you weak in the knees.

You hadn't actually had the courage to approach him, however. Instead, you let some college boy buy you a cheap drink and take you home for some mediocre sex before kicking you out after not even 15 minutes of his reckless humping.

The second time you met him was at the same place. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that was almost empty. His back was to you and it gave you a wonderful view of his broad shoulders.

The mediocre lay from the last time you had been there attempted to chat you up again with false confidence, as if he had been the best fuck of your life. Naturally, you weren't having any of his bullshit - he tried to rub your clit like a scratch and sniff, forcing you to pry his hand away from it, there was no chance in hell you were giving him another second of your time. He definitely wasn't the type of guy who took rejection well, if not evident by the way he exploded and went off calling you a wide, colorful variety of names paired with numerous hurtful insults that had tears of humiliation filling your eyes.

“Hey now,” a smooth, deep voice had interrupted his very public spiel, “Don’t punish the girl for your own short comings, if she doesn't wanna fuck you again, don't you think that says more about your abilities as a man?”

The other man sputtered, muttering even more curses before storming out - probably not wanting to tussle with a guy who looked like he benched every second of his day.

There was something about Iwaizumi that just immediately had your heart skipping a beat over him. He was kind, a gentleman, and never seemed desperate or overbearing. He was confident and comfortable with himself and where he was in life.

You quickly learned that Iwaizumi was 27, almost 28 and worked as an athletic trainer so he traveled a lot.

For a while, your relationship seemed one sided with him. You'd text him and he’d reply but he rarely ever actually reached out to you. You tried flirting with him, asking him out for drinks, but it never seemed to pull him in.

It was frustrating. In basically no time at all, you had developed a stupid puppy dog crush on him. You felt like a middle school girl with a crush on a high school senior - like he was never going to give you the time of day. You were simply too young for him.

You eventually stopped trying with him, choosing to delete your message thread with him and continued on with your life.

You went through more college-boy hookups - all of them ending in disaster. Quite frankly, you were fed up with mediocre cock and being treated like shit when they were done with you. It wasn't a nice feeling, being kicked out after they didn't even bother trying to make you cum.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Iwaizumi would be like in bed. He was just so attractive, you knew he had gotten his dick wet more times than he could count. He definitely seemed the type who preferred relationships over hookups.

That's when it occurred to you.

You pulled out your phone and scoured your contacts. It had been a couple weeks since you spoke but you couldn't resist bugging him just one last time. You opened a new message thread with him and quickly typed the question that was now plaguing your mind.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

It was the question that had changed the course of your relationship with him.

When you asked, it was like everything fell into place. Perhaps it finally relayed to him the interest you had. All that really mattered was the fact he suddenly began talking to you, starting conversations and even venturing into phone calls with you.

You lost all interest in those college boys you once hung out with and went home with to get laid. None of them made you feel the way Iwaizumi could with a simple text message. He was everything a girl could ask for and you were shocked he was single.

Which was why you were quick to ask him on a date, not caring if it made you look desperate -- you practically were. You would be damned if he went off the market while you were busy beating around the bush.

Going on a date with Iwaizumi was like a dream. You were so used to dates at sleazy bars for a couple of drinks just so they could hurry up and take you home for a quick fuck.

Iwaizumi took the time to take you on several dates -- dinner, movies, walks around town to obscure shops he thought you might like, before it finally led to the bedroom.

You had never been nervous with sex but with Iwaizumi it was different. The routine was dumb college boys who usually fawned over your tits for a few minutes before their hard ons became the center of their brain function.

You found yourself completely bare on his bed as he stood at the foot, fully clothed. The way his eyes raked across your body like a lion eyeing its next, delicious meal had you curling in on yourself shyly.

His lips quirked up as your arms came across your breasts, shielding them from his predatory gaze, “Oh now, you know better than that, don’t you? What kind of good girl hides herself, hm? Acted so eager for my cock all this time, now you wanna be shy?”

You gasp, cheeks flushing hot as you register his words -- he’d known you wanted him that badly all this time?

He clicks his tongue, “You didn’t think you were subtle did you? Bet you would have done anything to get your paws on my dick when I got off work early the other day, hm? Showed up at your apartment...you were starin’ real hard at me, I’m right aren’t I?”

You think that to that day, lashes fluttering against your cheeks at the memory. He was wearing loose gray sweats and a muscle tank top that showed his biceps flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes had immediately been drawn, however more down to his crotch instead. Where you could clearly see the outline of his cock through the material.

You had stuffed your little fingers in your cunt for hours that night, thinking about how big he looked -- even soft, couldn’t imagine if he was hard.

“Ah, there you go again,” he muses, snapping you out of your haze, “Maybe if you ask real pretty for me, I’ll give you just what you want.”

“Please,” you immediately gasp, “Want you so much Hajime, i-it hurts. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you…”

“It hurts?” he huffs, finally reaching up to pull his shirt off, leaving you to ogle his pecs and defined abs, which flex as he works on removing his jeans, “Needy little cunt hurts ‘cause you don’t have a nice, fat cock stuffing it full? Such a dramatic little baby. I just know your phone is full of some little college boys’ numbers...why don’t you give them a call?”

You shake your head, “Don’t want them! I just know they’re not as good as you, Hajime, please...please make me cum, I'll do anything?”

“Aw, those idiot little boys don’t know how to make a pretty girl like you cum, is that it?” he asks, climbing onto the bed, making the mattress dip beneath you as he slots himself between your thighs.

“No,” you pout, letting him spread your legs, hands under your knees to open you up to his greedy gaze.

“So compliant with me, you just need a real man to get you off, huh?” he smiles when you nod, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you.”

Oh, you knew. Just from the way he moved his hips against yours, parting your folds so the head of his cock glided from your clenching little hole, dragging your slick up to your clit -- you just knew that he knew what he was doing.

As you looked between your legs, you felt yourself gush at the sight. His cock was so big, long and fat, drooling precum over your slick little slit, making a mess. He wrapped his fist around his length, making you whimper as his fingers couldn’t even wrap around the girth of him. He slapped his cock against your cunt, groaning at the strings of your slick that clung to him.

“Such a messy cunt,” he sighs, making sure to spank your clit with the head of his cock, laughing breathlessly when your thighs jumped in response to the sudden stimulation, “So fucking eager for me, aren’t you?”

“Uhuh,” you sigh, arching your hips, “Want you to fuck, please, Hajime, need it so bad.”

Much to your dismay, he shakes his head, “Can’t just put it in, pretty baby,” the pet name makes you whimper, “It’ll hurt too much, want you to feel good, yeah?”

“I can handle it,” you breathlessly reassure, canting his hips upward once more to drag your clit against that ridge on the crown of his cock, “Jus’ put it in…”

He doesn’t respond this time but still makes no move to put his cock inside. You’re distracted, however, by the way he now focuses on playing with your clit. Using his cock, he drags the underside across the hard little bud, slaps it once with the tip and before you know it your body is seizing up and you cum.

You let out a string of curses, falling limp against the bed as he works you through the quick high.

“See, that was so easy,” he chuckles, “Those stupid little boys you’ve been letting screw you have no idea what they’re doing, do they? Little cunts so sensitive, I barely even had to do anything to make you cum.”

You’re still trembling when you come down, licking your lips as you give him a dopey little smile and a nod at his cooing. He can’t resist leaning down, and pressing his lips against yours almost desperately. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in a deep kiss while his hand finds its way between your legs, two fingers sliding easily into your slick little cunt.

You moan into his mouth, “Hajime ah! ...please, make me cum again.”

“Fuck, you’re so desperate for me,” he hisses through his teeth, “Clenching around my fingers so tight. If I crook my fingers...right here...I bet you’ll just…”

As if on cue, his fingertips hook on your g-spot and you squeal, legs kicking out as you gush around his fingers. He bites his lip and continues to fuck his fingers against that spot, watching your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you cum for the second time in mere minutes.

“Y-You’re so good, Hajime…” you praise softly, “Fuck, please, give me your cock now!”

He laughs and sits up properly again, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He examines them for a second, slick with your cum and streaks of cream covering the digits before he pops them into his mouth with a moan, savoring the taste of you.

“Alright, baby,” he sighs after pulling out his fingers with a pop!. He grips you beneath the knees again and scoots closer until his tip prods at your entrance. You shudder at the feeling, “Relax for me, pretty girl, let me in…”

Iwaizumi begins pushing in, letting out a soft groan as the head finally buries itself in your cunt. You squeal at the feeling, pulling your knees closer to your chest. The sound of you moaning and whimpering just from his head has him throbbing almost painfully against your tender cunt.

“Almost there…” he huffs, grinning at the sight of your eyes rolling back, “Ah, does that feel good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, “Biggest cock I’ve ever had…’s full…”

“Yeah, baby? It feels so good to finally get your cunt filled with a nice, big cock huh?” he laughs when you nod eagerly, “It’s alright, baby. You won’t have to deal with any mediocre college boys anymore, yeah? This cock’s all yours now…you hear that? All yours.”

Your hand flies down between your legs, finding your clit. He watches with lidded eyes as you circle the little bud and squeal, keeping his hips still to let you cum around his cock nice and hard like you need.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he hums, “Get yourself off, you know what you need...atta girl…”

You sigh happily at his praise, licking your lips and relax against the bed once more. He takes that as his hint that you were ready, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming back inside your sensitive cunt. It knocks the air from your lungs and you cry out, unable to hold back your noises as he fucks you senseless.

He uses his strength to keep you pinned, forcing your knees against your chest, leaving your cunt open and vulnerable to his pistoning cock. Iwaizumi is so big that the stretch burns every time he sinks back into you, the tip touching your cervix with every calculated thrust, making your entire body ache with the deep pain of it.

But it all feels so good, you’d never been fucked like that before. He knew exactly where to aim his cock, keeping his eyes fixed on your face to watch your reactions, gaze flicking down to where his cock stuffs your cunt full to watch you coat him in your cream whenever he grazes that sweet little spot deep inside you -- a spot no other man had ever tried to find before.

“Feel good?” he questions, though he knew the answer even before you cry it out.

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you sob, “I-It feels so good, Hajime! Fuck, you’re so good at fucking me! You make me feel like a virgin all over again!”

He grins, “Yeah, I know I am, baby.”

His cocky, confident response would have been a turn off with any other man, but with him -- it only made you moan. He had every right to be cocky, he knew just how to use his cock and it was exhilarating.

“You gotta cum again for me, pretty,” he pants, “Cum again, one more time, let go.”

Your throat burns from how much you scream for him, the messy noises coming from him fucking your sloppy cunt should be embarrassing -- you’ve never made such a mess before. You’ve never been so wet, creaming and gushing all the way down his balls.

He didn’t seem to mind, instead he seemed to only be turned on by it.

“I want you to squirt, can you do that for me? Make a pretty mess for me.”

You shake your head, “D-Don’t know how...Can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby,” he purrs, “I can make you, you know that I will.”

You didn’t but, you couldn’t help but nod -- immediately believing him and trusting him. He shifts his knees just slightly, changing his center of balance before his palm curls over your pubic bone, thumb effortlessly finding itself pressed against your clit.

The change in angle lets him hit your g-spot even more brutal than before. You’re immediately arching and crying out for him, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm slam into you faster than you’d ever experienced.

Instead of slowing you down, he works you through it, keeping the same, animalistic pace and keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, the rough pad of his thumb has you ogling. If anything, the calloused hands of Iwaizumi proves to you how much of a real man he is, those college boys have nothing on him.

“Give it to me, c’mon,” he urges, clenching his teeth together from the effort it takes to keep going to this hard and fast pace.

“H-Haji…” you cut yourself off as you feel yourself get thrown over the edge again. This time, something feels different and you can’t help but sob, “Please! I-I’m gonna-!”

“That’s it, fuck!” he moans, pace stuttering when you squirt -- your cum splashing against his abs as you shudder and squeal, “Good fuckin’ girl, my good girl. Shit, where do you want me to cum?”

“I-Inside! Fuck, please! I need your cum!” you immediately sob, nails biting in his biceps where you reach out to grip him -- trembling and crying from overstimulation as he works towards his own high.

“You sure? Shit,” you nod, breathless pleas falling from your lips as he finally stills, spilling his load deep inside with a long, drawn-out groan.

Everything is still for a moment and then he’s pulling out with a hiss. You whine at the feeling of your cunt gaping, yearning for his cock again, as his cum leaks out.

He hums, “Sorry about that, let me get you cleaned up.”

You sigh, and close your eyes, trying to relax and let your body settle its trembling. He comes back and quietly works on cleaning the mess between your thighs.

“Alright, up you go,” he sighs, taking your arm and helping you to your feet. You whine and wobble for a second, making him laugh, “You good?”

“Y-Yeah…” you stumble a bit and lean against his dresser, looking for your discarded clothes.

He has his back to you as he strips his sheets. Suddenly, you feel shut out -- like you shouldn’t be there anymore.

He brushes past you to his closet, pulling out some fresh sheets. You feel silly, standing there naked while he gets ready for bed. You bend down and grab your panties, clumsily putting them on before moving to pick up your dress, where it’s crumpled on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he laughs, “That won’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Huh?” you tilt your head to the side and he pauses fluffing his pillows.

“What...you didn’t think I was kicking you out, did you?” he asks and scoffs at the face you make.

“Well I...usually I…” you shift on your feet nervously and he frowns, walking up to you.

He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him, “Jesus, who have you been fucking?” he laughs and gently nudges you towards the bed, “Lay down before you fall over.”

Fighting back a smile, you do as you’re told and sit on the bed, watching as he puts on a fresh pair of sweats, waiting for him to join you. When he does, he immediately pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Take a nap, and then we’ll take a shower.”

“It’s 11 at night, it wouldn’t be a nap,” you counter with a giggle.

“Well,” he sighs, “Take a shower in the morning then, and then we can go get breakfast, yeah?”

You smile and relax against him, “Sounds good.”

seita © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #afton.writes

[natashawritesstuff]

Track 17: F You I love You📼

“Fuck you and maybe fuck me”

husband! terushima x reader (married young) cursing, fights

F You I Love You by KYLE and Teyana Taylor 

We both try

We both try to get things right

You had a specific plan for your life. Graduate high school, graduate college, get a secure job, get a nice place, and then- and only then would you be ready for a boyfriend.

Now you were always prepared for a few wrenches being thrown in the plan. Like trouble finding a safe area or having to switch schools. You were ready for a few changes in the plan. You were not ready for Terushima Yuuji, and what was not a part of the plan was marrying him two years after you graduated high school.

But what was done was done and you unfortunately were undoubtedly in love with him. So you tied the knot and tied the former high school player down.

The night after the wedding the two of you toasted to the rest of your lives on a moonlit beach in Cancun.

“We’re gonna do this right, I’m gonna do this husband thing right,” he promises you.

“Yeah, we got this,” you agree.

But I still write the most hurtful words I could find

“She likes you,” you told him two weeks into marriage.

“But I love you!” Terushima defends, “if you could just trust me on this-”

“I don’t!” you scream, “I wonder why.”

Fight all night

But somehow when the sun rises

“Y/N,” he whispers, as the morning sun hits your skin in all the right ways, “are you okay?”

You turn around to face him nodding as you say, “I’m okay. You?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Are we gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

I'm shocked we're both surviving

But I still feel like fuck you

“Least favorite thing about me,” Terushima asks you one morning.

“You’re really flirtatious to strangers.”

“That’s how I got you though,” he teases.

“Okay, but why are you still doing it?” you ask and his playful tone drops.

“Oh, so you want me to change my whole personality?”

“Your personality shouldn’t be telling every girl how hot they look.”

“That’s what you think of me?”

“No-”

“Wow.”

Baby, you still feel like fuck me

“You know, I think you start shit. That’s my least favorite thing about you.”

“What no I don’t.”

“You so do, You always poke holes in everything, it’s like you want us to break up.”

“The fact that you would even say that when you-”

I know things can get so ugly

But still' how I'd get so lucky?

“Do you wanna dance with me?”

It’s midnight when he asks you. The fight had finished hours before and now the two of you were sitting on the couch silently watching a movie.

“What?” you respond.

“Do you wanna dance with me?”

“With what music?”

He doesn’t answer that question. Instead, he grabs your hand and pulls you off of the couch. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone having a song already picked out and he presses play.

It only takes a few moments for it to register: the fact that he was playing, “our song,” you realize.

“I love you,” he tells you, as he guides your hands up to his neck and he lets his fall to your waist.

“I love you.”

To have found someone so awesome

I thank God I've finally got one

Watch the love we both have blossom

“We’ve come a long way,” you note, looking back on yearbook photos with Terushima.

“High school sweethearts to this. Married before we even hit twenty-one.”

“Still together at twenty-six,” you remind him, and the two of you high five.

And if that one dies

“Wait… if we get divorced,” he says pausing to knock on the wood of your bed frame then continues, “what do we do?”

“We start dating again,” you answer and lets out a long ‘ohh’

“Yeah, you’re right baby. For lifers.”

“For life.”

I'll plant another seed and watch a new one rise

You mad baby, say it, no need to pretend

One day, Terushima came home from work and collapsed on top of you. He claimed over and over again that he was tired as you stroked his hair but you knew something was up.

“Do you want some takeout from down the street?”

“We only go there when I’m sad.”

“Mhm.”

“How’d you know?” Terushima asks, and you can’t tell if he really thought he was good at hiding his emotions.

You laugh instead of answering, simply grabbing your car keys and leading him out the door.

'Cause I know you so well, we might as well be twins

So we kiss, and we argue, and argue again

“Makeup?” he asks, pouting and wiping away a tear that streamed down your face.

You nod and he leads you to the bedroom

It gets like that when your lover's your best friend

You take me to heaven, but giving me hell

“Baby?” you call, “did you RSVP for that wedding?”

“What wedding?”

“He’s one of your former teammates. You promised him you’d help plan.”

“Again, what wedding?”

You pause, “so no?”

“Yeah, probably not.”

“Yuuji, baby,” you say calmly, “I love you, but sometimes, I just wanna kill you.”

“Aww, you love me?”

You know you can win in an argument

You take your shirt off whenever I get mad

You take your shirt off 'cause you know me well

“You’re being so-” you scream and Terushima crosses his arms as he grabs the hem of his shirt before he pulls it off.

“I- what the hell.”

“I got hot,” he shrugs.

“I’m trying to be mad at you!”

“Be mad at me shirtless then.”

You stare at him for a long time before you roll your eyes, before walking over to him and he picks you up, supporting you by having his hands under your thighs.

“Hi, baby,” he smiles.

“Shut up.”

If I had to choose one, you would be the one

Even when you got your clothes on

'Cause baby, I hate you sometimes

“Most irritating person you know, go!”

“You!” you answer without thinking then slap your hand over your mouth. “Sorry,” you muffle.

“No, you’re the most irritating too.”

“Awww,” you gush and he kisses your pout.

If you hate me too, that's alright

Fuck you, I love you

Baby, don't apologize

'Cause I done said a thousand times

Fuck you,

“How dare he!” you shout, throwing your jacket down as soon as you enter the door.

Terushima, coming in right behind you, picking your jacket up as he says, “who even asked him to speak?”

“Sure as hell wasn’t me!”

“Or me! ‘I’m surprised you made it’ shut up!”

“I mean we’re a little rough around the edges,” you admit, “but we’re fucking good together!”

“The best!” he agrees, “how can he not see that? We’ve been married for six years now!”

“And you’re clearly my everything!”

“Mine too! Wait,” he pauses, “really?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “Yuuji we’re married,” you remind him.

“I know I just…” he says his voice trailing off and you cup his cheek.

“Hey, we’re far- and I mean really far from perfect, but I could never see myself with anyone but you.”

“I don’t want anyone else either.”

“Good,” you say smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, “because, no one else would love you anyway,” you tease and he slaps your ass, laughing.

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

I love you

the playlist📼

Other Schools Masterlist

Return to Main Masterlist

#hq husbands #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! #haikyuu captains #haikyuu angst to fluff #haikyuu captains x reader #haikyuu headcanons #terushima fic #terushima fluff #hq terushima #terushima yuuji #terushima x reader #terushima scenarios #terushima x you #johzenji #johzenji x reader

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: As the summer comes to a close, Spencer and Y/N start feeling a shift in their relationship. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, thigh riding, exhibitionism, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, one line of daddy kink,  Word Count: 4.3k exactly, love how that turned out lol

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: Thank you all for sticking with me through this long wait, I feel so bad for having to keep putting it off. But I’m very proud of where this ended up, and I’m so glad you’ve all been so excited about it! I had so much fun writing this story, so again, thank you very much for reading and indulging me in this weird fantasy lolol ❤ Love you guys! And, as always, thank you to the lovely Em ( @boldlyvoid ) for being my beta for this series! Your feedback and support has been a big help from the start, ILY

———

AUGUST 12th

"I don't wanna hear a single word, understand?"

Not like I have a choice; As soon as the harsh whisper leaves Spencer's mouth, his hand is covering my own and my back is being pressed up against the wall of the storage closet.

But that's all he does. I wait for him to make a move, but instead he insists on being a tease.

"What? You've been trying to get my attention all night, and now that you have it, you're not gonna do anything with it?"

"I want you to do it for me," I mumble into his hand.

He shoves me harder into the wall and slots his knee in between my legs, spreading them apart and making me sigh.

"You wanted it so bad... So take it..."

Watching the amusement dance through his features as I grind down on his leg and whine into his mouth only excites me more, right next to the knowledge that downstairs the house is congested with people visiting to celebrate my mom's new promotion at work.

Needless to say, it doesn't take me very long to start feeling my stomach tense. My hips are wild as they roll over his leg, whines spewing from my mouth and into his hand. I look up into his eyes, doing my best to show him how much I could never grow tired of this, and he returns the favor by lifting his leg higher and giving me more friction.

In no time at all, I'm shuddering against him, feeling his hand press harder into my mouth to muffle the high-pitched whines that I can't help but expel.

"Nice and quick... Good girl..." Spencer muses, slowly peeling himself away from me. "You're really looking forward to being spoiled later, aren't you..."

The grin that spreads over my face is unwavering. "Definitely. Knowing Mom, she'll be passed out cold in like an hour."

I know I'm the one who brought her up, but it still stings a little when Spencer smiles fondly. "Yeah, she's a lightweight alright... You sure you can handle all this time without me until then?"

Despite the butterflies I get when he says it, mischievous and downright delectable, his hands reach out to grab my waist and pull me closer to him, I roll my eyes. "You underestimate me."

He studies my face for a moment, a pretty smile flashing before me in the dim light before he kisses my cheek. "Sure."

And when he leaves, I wait.

Minutes later, my skin still burns from his touch.

———

The moment my eyes open the next morning, it all comes back in flashes.

His lips are on my skin, travelling lower and lower...

His hands trail all over my body, featherlight in a way that leaves me with goosebumps.

His tongue starts slow, taking its time to taste me and savor every precious second.

His voice is like the sweetest prayer, whispering praises that leave my head dizzy and my heart pounding.

His lips languidly open and close around the most sensitive parts of my body, in tandem with that sweet, magnificent tongue as each action pulls sighs from the very depths of my soul.

His hands reach up and tangle with mine as he makes me come on his tongue, over and over again until I'm practically numb and the lull of sleep drags me under.

His hands now ghost over my bare skin, along my sides and down to my waist. I hum happily and push back against him when I feel it.

He's hard.

"How long before you think she wakes up?" he whispers in my ear.

"Not long... Maybe we... shouldn't risk i—"

The words fall off a cliff, never to be seen again when he slowly enters me, gripping my leg and forcing it over his own. "I'll be quick."

I can tell, though, that he doesn't want to be. It's present in the way he enters me, over and over with motions that feel rather stunted and definitely too rushed.

"Baby, no," I whine, reaching behind me to hold his hips still with one hand. "Fuck me slow... Don't rush..."

"But... Your mom..."

"Please..."

Spencer sighs, though not from exasperation. No, his breath is long and teeming with relief, hands gently roaming over the entirety of my body as his hips move slower. He's taking his time, relishing every second and feeling me gradually get more slick at his undoing.

His lips are on my neck, not providing marks to match the ones hidden on the inside of my thighs and my chest, but merely resting there. He kisses me in between gentle thrusts, letting out small whimpers of his own when I clench tightly around him.

This...

This is different.

We've had slow morning sex before, but never like this. Somehow, I find myself drifting, like I'm being carried away by his current. There's nothing but me, Spencer, and our breathing... Our bodies, our air, our souls...

This is what I imagine making love feels like.

Which is why I barely notice when it slips from my mouth— Three words that should feel more daunting due to the weight they hold and the way they ultimately change everything. And yet, whispering “I love you,” in a nearly breathless string of syllables feels incredibly natural. It’s more sincere than anything I think I’ve ever told him, so much so that I don’t even think about what it will mean in the long-run. Instead I let it fall from my lips again and again without regret or consequence.

He doesn't stop, either. Spencer continues to fuck me softly, like it's all he knows how to do. In fact, my confession only seems to make him relax more.

And that's what finally pushes me over the edge.

His name escapes my mouth in a whisper that sounds more like a plea not to leave, and he holds me closer to him. Our bodies are flush together, my back resting perfectly against his chest as he takes a few final thrusts and empties himself inside of me.

If we stayed like that forever, I could die happy.

And actually, that wouldn't be far from the truth, given that if we did stay here forever, my mom would certainly find us and kill us.

The thought makes me sigh.

"You have to leave..."

"I know..."

Spencer pulls me closer, squeezing me tight and giving me a long, bold kiss on the jaw before he rips himself away and takes my heart with him.

AUGUST 18th

Things are significantly different now.

After the morning I let slip that I love him, Spencer and I had been intimate once. We found ourselves alone while Mom was at the grocery store and instinctually came together.

It was quick, and it was fast and rough, and while it obviously felt good, something was off. But I knew it wasn't a physical problem. Like I said, it felt as good as any other time we'd been together, but it just wasn't right.

I hate it.

It hasn't even been a week since then, and I miss him. I miss our dynamic, and I miss the way I used to feel when he touched me.

So I stalk into the office and lean against the doorframe, watching Spencer as he goes through a large pile of paperwork. His hands and his eyes are moving at near light-speed, and the way he concentrates almost makes me feel bad for my intrusion—Honestly, I could have looked at him all damn day.

But there's a bigger plan in mind.

"What'cha up to?"

He looks up and greets me with a smile. "School starts in a few weeks. I'm just trying to get my coursework prepared."

"Oh... You... mind if I keep you company?"

"Not at all."

It's an innocent enough exchange, though I'm hoping I can change that. Mom doesn't get off work for another few hours, so it gives me ample time to do what I have planned.

I walk over and nudge his leg with my knee, and he lets me in. I climb on his lap, and after giving me a brief kiss on the cheek he returns to going through his paperwork.

My face turns and I nestle it into his neck. He hums softly when I kiss the skin under his jaw, once, and then twice, and then over and over in quick succession.

I can feel him smile. "What are you up to, princess?"

Hearing the nickname return in earnest makes me smile. I nip softly at his neck and run my tongue along it. "Mmm, trouble."

"Sounds like you," he mutters through a sultry sigh once I start going lower, kissing the top of his shoulder.

I slide my hands up the front of his chest and gently undo the top button, giving me access to more skin. "You love it when I make trouble..."

"Hmm, I'm not sure about that."

I slide off his lap then, crouching between his legs and looking up at him with a smile. "Really?"

All he does is look down at me, his pupils growing bigger by the second. So I continue my venture, sliding my hands up the insides of his legs until I reach the belt. "So you don't love when I do this?"

Spencer sighs, helping me by lifting his hips a little and letting me slide down layers of fabric until his dick is right in front of me.

I don't waste any time, taking him in my hand and bringing him to my mouth. He's still not entirely hard yet, but I don't mind at all. In fact, I let out a happy sigh just before I press kiss after kiss along the entire length of him. From base to tip, I take my time kissing and licking along the salty skin and giving him my full attention. I pull back and admire him, I smile, I kiss and I lick and I squeeze him with my hand... And when he's finally nice and hard, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck gently.

"Y/N..."

I hum around him, sinking further down until he hits the back of my throat, and then I come back up and repeat. It's slow. Maybe torturous even, but really I don't mean it to be.

Thankfully Spencer seems to be happy with my speed and technique; His eyes are on the verge of closing and his chest is heaving slowly, fingers gently caressing the sides of my face as I go down on him.

It's this same slow, steadying pace we'd taken before, and it's exactly what we needed.

I can feel his touch on my face, burning into my skin and marking me for all eternity. Likewise, the thick, throbbing weight of his cock sliding over my tongue and down my throat feels just like home— Like it's right where we're meant to be.

Once again, we fit together perfectly.

This epiphany sets a fire deep in the pits of my stomach, and just like that our spark is back again.

I look up and catch his eye, and he lets me keep it, forcing himself to keep his eyelids open to watch me. My pace remains consistent and slow, and and he brings both of his hands under my chin. The way he holds my face is so gentle, so loving and sensual that I nearly burst with tears at the sentiment alone, and it doesn't take long for him to start letting go.

He stutters my name when he comes, still using the pads of his nimble fingers to caress my throat. I take in and swallow each rope of cum until it's gone, and even then I keep him in my mouth, gently bobbing my head up and down just for the sake of feeling him inside me somehow.

But then he lifts me off of him and his dick falls limp in his lap. I sigh and lean down, kissing it a few times before just resting my head in his lap as he strokes my hair.

"You're right," Spencer says after a few moments.

"About what?"

"I do love when you make trouble."

We laugh, and I lift my head to look up at him.

"I know... It's your favorite."

"That it is, princess."

AUGUST 26th

I wish more than anything that this orientation would just end. My left foot is anxiously tapping the cool white tile of the floor as I wait to be next in line to grab my paperwork and get on my way— To home for what I'm sure will be a long weekend trying to find free minutes to steal with Spencer.

In another life it might have gotten tedious and painful sneaking around for so long, but I found it excited me. Sure, my feelings for Spencer were growing at an exponential rate, but ever since I visited him in our home office, we seemed to be getting back our groove— With an added flair I might add...

Each time we were together was more intense than the last. His hands got more possessive, his kisses got deeper and more passionate, and the way he looked at me?

I could swear I felt him falling just as deep as I was.

The smile it all brought to my face in that moment fell a little short when they called me next in line, and I fell into a joyful step forward to collect my things.

When I get home, though, things aren't as joyful.

The first thing I notice is that Spencer's car isn't in the driveway or even on the street. He's usually here on weekends, so I wonder if he's out for something, or even out with my mom on a lunch date or something.

I try not to think about that thought too much and step inside, hoping to at least enjoy the silence for a little while, lest they really are out together.

I think I'm out of the woods when I hear the television, a laugh track of some kind, but then it turns into the Friends theme blaring through the speakers, and my heart nearly falls into the pit of my stomach.

There's only one reason Mom would be watching Friends. She swears up and down that she hates it, but it always ends up on TV when there's one specific thing she's going through, because "Hearing them complain about their stupid problems make me feel better about my own!"

Her own problem being a breakup.

For a moment I wonder if maybe Spencer had told her about us. Or maybe she found something somehow that would give us away. I make my way slowly through the space until I reach the living room, my brain making up every possible horrendous outcome— Not even to prepare for the blow, because I know that absolutely nothing could prepare me for the wrath of my mother in any situation... I simply can't help myself from feeling guilty and heartbroken as my stomach churns and my heart beats so loud I can barely hear the TV anymore.

When I come into her view, Mom freezes and lets out a large breath of shaky air. The small tub of ice cream in her hands shakes just as much, and I can tell she's trying her hardest not to burst into tears.

I've never seen her this upset before. Normally it's just anger and annoyance, but this time she looks utterly broken.

"M—Mom?" I stutter, even though she probably can't even hear what I'm saying over the TV. I still don't know if she knows about my involvement with Spencer, but I feel like she'd be more angry with me than sad, so I figure it's safe to come closer.

The moment I take a step forward, she sets the ice cream on the floor and opens her arms to me, a choked sob forcing its way out. It almost makes me cry, just seeing her this heartbroken, and in an instant I'm running to her and snuggling into her side as she hugs me.

"What happened?" I will myself to ask, even though I still have no idea what it means for me. Maybe that's selfish, but if he's taking himself out of Mom's life, surely that has to mean he's removing himself from mine as well, right? And if he's just leaving without saying anything... God, that would ruin me, too.

Still, I wait to hear what Mom will say.

"He broke up with me," is all she says, through a long and tired sigh. She mutes the TV and then holds me tighter. I can feel that there's pure sadness controlling her every movement, and it crushes me.

"Why?"

"I don't know, he just... He said he didn't love me, and he wasn't feeling it anymore."

"That's all?"

"Uh huh... It was so sudden, too, like... I thought we were really getting along, and I just... I don't understand how he couldn't feel it... I felt all of it, and he just... He felt nothing. How could he feel nothing?"

I really don't know what to say anymore... It seems to me like Spencer really told her the truth and ended their relationship because he didn't feel anything for her anymore, but... I always knew he had to have felt something... I guess I just didn't realize someone could fall out of it so quickly.

The guilt overwhelms me then, when it dawns on me that I made him fall out of it so fast. I was there, taking up small moments of his time until, eventually, I'd taken up so much of it that it wasn't just his time I was stealing, but also his love. His fire, and his passion... Month by month, day by day, I was draining the love he had for my mom and distilling it to meet my own desires.

And now, here I am, in my mothers arms as she weeps over a man she truly loved, all because he and I were selfish and treasonous.

If Spencer decides he still wants to be with me after this, I really don't know if I could do it. Even after all this time... After all this trouble and guilt and glorious treason...

He could never really be mine.

———

Y/N,

I knew this day would come from the moment I met you. Of course, I didn't know how far my feelings would take me, but in the end I knew I would one day have to leave you and your mother behind.

Day by day my feelings for you grew stronger, and it wasn't until you told me you loved me that August Thirteenth that I realized I loved you, too. What we had was always dangerous, but by then my heart was focused solely on you, and I could feel your mother slipping from my grasp.

I pretended for as long as I could, but now you've taken up so much space in my brain that when Eve pulled me near, I almost sighed out your name instead. I knew then that no longer could I "keep up appearances," as I often like to tell you.

Maybe one day you and I can find our way back to each other, but for now, I think it's for the very best that we go our separate ways.

In my wildest dreams I will think of you fondly, and I can only hope that you might do the same.

Always Yours, Spencer

JUNE 19th, SEVEN YEARS LATER

There are so many things I'm thinking about when I come home tonight.

One: I'm a little tipsy and completely fucked out, which reminds me of that night I came home in the exact same state, only to find my mom's old boyfriend, Spencer, unable to sleep and to stop staring at my bare legs. The memory brings a smile to my face.

Two: My feet fucking hurt and I want to get these goddamned shoes off.

Three: The ghost of Spencer's smile when he saw me for the first time in seven years burns in the back of my mind, right next to the ghost of his hands caressing my skin like it had been the first time.

Four: How am I going to spend the rest of the summer back in town knowing what it feels like to have fucked him at all without an ounce of guilt attached to it?

Five: Am I going to tell my mom that I slept with her ex-boyfriend tonight?

Six: Fuck, I'm hungry...

My heels come off as soon as I step through the door.

The light is on, and I can hear Mom laughing in the kitchen with Adam from far away, which brings a fond smile to my face. I'm glad that she's finally happy, with someone who doesn't make me want to fall to my knees, thank you very much.

And truthfully, if I hadn't ran into Spencer at all tonight, I'm not sure I ever would have thought about that whole situation again— It was fucked up, he ended up leaving both of us, and Mom was so deeply devastated after their breakup that I didn't have the heart to tell her I missed him too. I just buried it deep down and tried to move on right alongside her, eventually erasing his memory from my mind, body, and soul.

Well, almost.

There were days, obviously, where his letter hummed inside my pillowcase where he left it, whether I brought it to college or kept it at home, or it sat soundly in my new apartment. His words were always there, spilling into my dreams and dancing with me through our memories; tangled tongues and limbs, wild nights and passionate mornings...

I'd wake up feeling hot to the touch and missing him completely.

Thankfully those days were few and far in between, and for a while I'd stopped thinking of him altogether.

But of course, it turns out that Spencer Reid is in fact, pretty damn inevitable.

That bar downtown was packed, so it was a wonder I'd even ran into him of all people in the first place. What he was doing there I didn't know. And neither do I now, because from the moment we laid eyes on each other, it was this constant state of shell-shock and fire, nothing else. He asked briefly about Mom, I told him she'd been married for four years, and then he joked about how he was surprised I hadn't tried to steal him from her.

Naturally, with that ever so playful look in his eye practically taunting me, I played to his joke and responded with a sultry smile, "The only one I ever wanted to steal was you, Doctor..."

The rest wasn't exactly a blur, but all I'm going to say is that we spent the rest of our time together at his apartment, "catching up on lost time"... And as much as I'd grown out of the submissive role sexually over the years, I found myself crawling back, submitting to him like I'd done it a million times over. And, really, I might as well have.

It's like we'd never stopped.

That being said, I declined his offer to stay the night and told him to give me a call some time before I left to go back to Seattle. Though, not without giving him a thousand goodbye kisses that were rather counterproductive.

Thinking about it makes my cheeks burn hot, though thankfully it's summer, and Mom won't have to question it. Though, if she does, I suppose I could keep it short and sweet and tell her the truth at the very least: that I met up with an old friend who showed me a good time.

"Hey'a, Sweetpea," she greets with a bright wave. She and Adam are obviously a little tipsy, more than me by the looks of it, but I pay it no mind. "How was you're night?"

"Great! Went to a few bars downtown, met up with some friends..."

"Oh, good, well we're glad you got back safe."

I snag a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, then turn back around to see Mom and Adam snuggled in, sharing a smile that would make even the happiest person on the planet sick to their stomach.

Oddly enough, it reminds me of back then, when she was with Spencer, happier than ever and completely oblivious to what was going on in her daughter's life.

The thought makes my stomach flutter, taking me back to earlier in the night when he had his hands tangled in my hair and his mouth attached to my skin, spewing filthy words and praises that had me begging for more...

"I missed you, princess," he whispers, holding himself deep inside me. His fingers brush the matted hair from my face, revealing more of my saccharine smile and eyes that swim with mischief.

"I missed you too," I whine, reaching out and grabbing handfuls of his ass, shoving him even farther inside me and wrapping my legs around him tighter. "...Daddy..."

Spencer loses all semblance of cool, pulling back and slamming into me with full force. I—

"Y/N?"

I blink away his memory, reminding myself of where I am and what I'm doing, finding Mom looking at me with a curious gleam in her eye.

"What are you thinking about?"

With a small smile, I nod in her direction. "Oh, uh... You'll never believe who I ran into tonight."

———

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.���

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #birch #series #sequel #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #looking for a place to happen #biker au #biker!au #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #avengers #tfatws #falcon #biker boys of birch

[letarasstuff]

Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #Emily Prentiss x teen!reader #Penelope Garcia x teen!reader #Derek Morgan x teen!reader #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #reid!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert

[noctumbra]

𝒍𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄

summary ─ “let’s go back to fucking,” he whispered, licking a fat line on your neck, nipping on the flesh. “miss your body, baby, lemme make it sing under me again.”

pairing ─ fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader 

warnings ─ smut, +18, angst, asshole bucky, dirty talk, rough sex, wall sex, biting/marking, pet names, bucky tasting from his own medicine (a little), language, bucky is a manipulative pos btw, reader calls herself “stupid” 

a/n ─ i didn’t wanna promise anything just in case if i didn’t write, but here i am with the second part. thank you so much for all the comments you left on the part one, i hope you like this one, too! please leave comments again if you do! thank youuu <333 it’s a long one y’all just a heads up! 

p.s.: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 4K FOLLOWERS. I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU SO MUCH. YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME. 💘💘💘💘

the (after) party [part one]

It’s been a month since that night at the party, and you didn’t have a time to focus on yourself because of all the college work you suddenly had. All the exams and deadlines had hit you almost at the same time, so you were swept with papers and notes.

Today was the first night you absolutely had nothing do. Your roommate was out because she was celebrating… something. You had no plans, so you decided to just have an off day where you lay on your couch and watch some stupid movies.

Three hours later had found you on your couch, sprawling comfortably with snacks in your hands. You were watching Tangled, the movie reminding you why you loved animations. The colors were vibrant, it was easy to follow and it didn’t have any of those very deep meaning messages. You knew you couldn’t take one right now if there was any.

You sighed deeply as you paused the movie. Standing up, you gathered the empty snack packs and takeout boxes. Just as you threw them into the trashcan, you heard a strong knock on your door. You frowned, it was almost 1AM in the morning. You slowly made your way towards the door and looked outside from the peep hole.

Bucky was right outside your door.

“I know you’re home,” he said, “Open the door.” You didn’t budge instead you continued to watch him. “Please.”

“What do you want?” You asked him without opening the door. His face was the last face you’ve wanted to see, and to think he was standing right outside your door was making all the hair on your body to rise.

“To talk,” he replied, voice muffled.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you said and walked away. You weren’t ready to face with him, yet. These past weeks you’ve kept yourself busy with school, didn’t have enough time to digest the facts that he cheated on you and used your body for his own pleasure, so if you were to open the door, you were going to do something stupid.

“C’mon,” he grunted. You heard him knock again. “Please, just a talk and I’m gonna leave, I swear.” You didn’t say anything. You decided to wash the dishes that have been piling up in the sink in order to ignore him better. “I’ll start singing if you don’t let me in, I mean it, Y/N.” You exhaled angrily.

How dare he to come to your door at 1AM and demand you to open your door? Seething, you grabbed the sponge and started scrubbing at the plate in your hand with your all might.

“Y/N…” You heard him calling out to you but didn’t care. “Open the fucking door, Y/N.”

You couldn’t believe that he still had the balls to show up on your doorstep after what he did to you. Catching him with one of the girls from your class, all naked and moaning mess in the bed you frequently shared, had hurt you badly. Your friends had always told you not to fall in love with him, but it was easier said than done. You knew that he was getting around even before you started dating, you knew it. After hanging out longer than you assumed you would, you thought he might have changed and maybe you had a little bit of a part in the change he went through. So, you started dating and fell in love with him.

A big fucking mistake was what you did.

Assuming that he saw you as his girlfriend was one of the many little mistakes you’ve done. Apparently, you were just hanging out to him, there weren’t any dating in the middle, so he had been fucking girls all around.

Come to think of it, you shouldn’t have felt this hurt; you weren’t dating, you weren’t anything explicit. Yeah, you were fucking frequently, were always together at some place, let it be a bar or the cafeteria. Wherever he was, you were there, and wherever you were, he was there.

Bucky said that you weren’t dating, just fucking, but everyone except him thought that you were.

Then, there was this falling in love with him part. You were blinded, you ignored when he said you were just fucking and not dating. You knew it meant that he had been seeing other girls, but you ignored it because you loved him. You continued to ignore it until you caught him with one of them.

“Y/N, come on,” he said. You dropped the plates and sponge in your hand and went to your door. “I wanna talk, come on, plea─” You yanked the door open.

“What the fuck you possibly might wanna talk about?” You sneered. “You said we weren’t dating, that we were just fucking, so what is it that you wanna talk so fucking badly?” Bucky narrowed his eyes. His steel blue eyes were assessing your anger contorted face with large pupils. He faintly smelled like cigarettes and beer. “I’m waiting.” You heard him growl lightly and then, you were grabbed by throat and dragged inside with him. He slammed the door close.

“That is exactly what I wanna talk about,” he hissed. He bodily plastered you against the wall and caged you under his big body. You tried not to react, but it was hard when your body had been missing the hell out of him. Your heart was beating fast and your lungs had stopped working.

You always forgot how sexy and dangerous he looked when he was angry and turned on.

“Let’s go back to fucking,” he whispered, licking a fat line on your neck, nipping on the flesh. “Miss your body, baby, lemme make it sing under me again.” You tried to swallow, his hand around your throat making a bit harder, but you were loving it.

“You fucked every girl in the campus already?” You spit out. His hand increased its pressure, and you made a gurgling sound. Chuckling as black spots slowly appearing in your sight, you looked at him, ignoring the pounding in your head. “You c-came… back… w-with y’r… tail betw’n y’r legs.” Bucky snarled, leaning in dangerously close. His nose was touching cheek, you could see his eyelashes and feel his lips moving against your neck.

“You seem to love it whenever I came back, love,” he whispered. There was no blue to be seen in his eyes, it was all black. His voice had dropped low and became a little hoarse. You shivered. The black spots in your vision were getting a bit much, you could hear the warning alarms in your brain going off. Bucky kept the eye contact for five more seconds and then, he let go off your throat.

You gasped. Knees buckling, you fell on the ground. The oxygen quickly filling your burning lungs, you coughed and wheezed through them. You blinked the tears away as you tried to stand up. Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you upright, holding you tight against his solid body.

Your eyes found each other, and you cursed at your heart for starting to beat faster than before. You were also cursing at yourself for liking the way he grabbed your throat. You could now see why people were saying ‘love is a dangerous thing’.

Bucky pushed you against the wall gently, surprising you a little. You could see that he was battling with himself about something, but you couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was. You took a deep, shaky breath when you calmed down a bit. Bucky stepped forward. His body was touching yours, but it didn’t feel as dangerous and angry as it did few minutes ago. He lifted his hand to brush your hair back. Your heart did a flip.

“I came back to you because you’re the only one who accepts me without judgment,” he whispered. His eyes were roaming on your face with a weirdly soft look in them. “I came back because you don’t have high expectations from me. You know me, know what I’m capable of.” He leaned in slightly to have his lips brush against yours as he spoke. “You get me, love.” You whimpered so softly, tears making your eyes sting. Bucky’s hand in your hair moved to your cheek to brush one of the tears away. Why he was being so gentle, you have no idea, but this was the guy who made you fell in love with him, this you knew.

He leaned in to capture your lips this time. Those soft lips onto yours felt like heaven. It was like all your troubles, all those stressful and painful times had been washed away by his lips and you had nothing to worry and stress about. You felt like you were standing on the clouds when his lips were pressed onto yours like this. You let out a soft moan into the kiss. He swallowed it just like he did with the whimper following your moan. He pressed you against the wall fully, once again caging you between his body and wall. This time, you went willingly.

Bucky bent his knees to grab your thighs so that he could lift you up. As soon as your thighs are in his hands, you jumped and wrapped your legs around him while holding onto his neck with your arms. Bucky hummed approvingly and deepened the kiss. His tongue was licking and teeth nipping on your bottom lip, you moaned.

Without a need to ask, he made his way to your room. He knew which door was yours since he had been here many times. He stepped inside and with two large steps, you were dumped on the bed.

Bucky crawled on top of you. His body was radiating a warmth that you had missed so dearly, so you immediately grasped at him, pulling him in. He chuckled, going along, he positioned himself between your legs. His jeans were brushing against your bare legs; the rough fabric causing goosebumps all over your body. You felt his Bucky’s nose poking your jaw playfully, and then trailing down, he stopped when he came across to the collar of your oversize t-shirt. Mumbling non-sense to himself, Bucky ripped the t-shirt off. He ignored all the cries you let out because he just ripped your t-shirt.

“You owe me one,” you panted when he took a nipple in his mouth. Bucky kissed his way to your stomach, biting and sucking every available skin he could reach. You were a moaning, trembling mess under him. You clawed his sweatshirt. You wanted to feel his skin against yours; all smooth and scorching hot skin under your hands. He pulled back for a second to ditch the sweatshirt and his undershirt. He was wearing his dog tags today, you noticed and looped your fingers to it.

Pulling him into a filth kiss with the help of his necklace was easy, Bucky was ready to kiss you yesterday. His tongue slipped in your mouth, licking your lips before that. You moaned. Your hands were framing his face, feeling his knife-sharp jawline and scruff in your palms was a delicious thing.

You heard him fumbling with his sweatpants and then, they were lowered to his mid-thighs. He grabbed your knees, hooked them on his elbows and walked towards you on his knees. His thighs were pushing against yours, and your knees on the crook of his elbows meant that you were almost bent in half.

“Fuck, c’mon,” you groaned. Bucky grunted as he grabbed his cock and lined it up.

“Shit, pull your panties aside,” he growled. You scrambled to comply. Finding the soft fabric that was covering your pussy, you pulled it aside to give him way. He took it immediately. As soon as you uncovered your core, Bucky thrusted forward and slid into you with one move.

You cried out. The sudden intrusion was a bit unexpected, but you loved the burn and sting. Bucky knew that. Humming to himself, Bucky leaned over your body, effectively bending you in half, and started to thrust.

God, you thought. You fucking hated this son of a bitch for what he did you, but you also fucking loved him because his cock felt so good in your pussy whenever you had sex. It felt like his cock was made for only you, and pleasuring you properly was only reserved to him. It was a sad fact, but no one other than him made your body rang with pleasure like this before.

“Yeah,” you breathed when he hit your sweet spot. The stars went off behind your eyelids. “Fuck, James, yeah, right there!” His hips were constantly moving in and out, slamming his pelvis against yours, making his balls kiss your other hole with each pistoning movement; you were in fucking pleasure heaven.

“Oh, fuck, shit,” he hissed through his teeth when you clenched around him unintentionally. You cried out as he bit down your shoulder hard.

“Shit, harder,” you moaned. You were digging and dragging your nails in and down his back, giving him angry red lines, marking him up in your own way while he made you feel so damn good. “Harder, James, holy fuck!” You screamed when his hips started to slam against yours even harder. The sound of slick skin slapping each other got louder, the sound echoing in your room along with your moans and whimpers and gasps. “’m close!” You whined. Bucky stayed quiet although you could hear his soft, guttural moans and occasional grunts.

“Can feel it,” he said, voice rough and deep with lust dripping from it. “You’re clenchin’ around me like mad. Fuck, honey─” He moaned loudly this time and sneaked a hand to your pussy, immediately starting to play with your clit. You gasped, choked on a moan and almost bit your tongue off. His thumb was putting pressure on your abused clit while playing with it. Not even three seconds later, your legs started to tremble from their places on Bucky’s elbows violently and three more seconds later, you were coming on Bucky’s cock with a scream trapped in your throat.

You vaguely heard Bucky cursing, swearing, moaning and hissing through his teeth and felt his hips stop. When you managed to peek through your heavy lidded eyes, you saw him squeezing the base of his cock to stop himself from coming.

“Not done with you,” he grunted when he caught you peeking. You chuckled breathlessly. You felt your legs tingling pleasantly. You wiggled on the bed, feeling satisfied and happy. “C’mere,” you heard Bucky grunt again and before you could understand what was happening, you were hauled off the bed.

“What─” You got cut off with a gasp when your back made contact with the wall. Your legs were still quivering, pussy still clenching around nothing and was sensitive, you felt Bucky pushing back in. “MmmMM, fuck!” You cried out, head banging against the wall. Bucky growled.

“Yeah, baby,” he said. The look in his eyes was hungry, lust filled and predatory. You shivered. “You got what you need, ‘s my turn.” He rearranged you against the wall and in his arms before taking a better position and then, he was fucking off.

His hips started slamming, cock hitting all the sweet spots you had in your pussy but didn’t know about before. His balls were caressing and hitting against your other hole; you could feel the hair at the base of his cock against your pussy. Bucky was thrusting in and out of you at a mad pace. His biceps were bulging, abs clenching and pecs moving up and down, you couldn’t decide whether he looked like a fuck machine or a sex god.

“Ohh, shit, oh!” You whined as his pelvis rubbed against your clit. It was still sensitive, still throbbing lightly and you already felt like close to coming. Bucky, probably felt the rhythmic clenching around his hard cock, snarled and hoisted your legs up on his shoulders and crowded you against the wall even more.

“God, you have no idea how your pussy milkin’ my cock,” he whispered. He slightly changed his position and slowed his thrusts a bit so that he could hit deeper with long strokes, and your eyes rolled back with the intensity of this new position. “Lookit at you, fuck, you look so good on my cock.” His teeth latched onto your neck, right under your jaw, and he sucked and bit the skin there, leaving a mark which was going to be a bitch to cover. You didn’t care.

“James,” you breathed. “James…”

“Yeah, love?” Bucky panted. The sweat was beading on his forehead, his thigh muscles were twitching and his abs were clenching even more than before.

He was close.

“Hard,” you whispered and whimpered loud and long when his cock touched something in you. “Fuck me harder, give it to me harder, come on.” He smirked, briefly leaning into give you a filthy kiss.

“Your wish is command,” he whispered against your lips and picked up the pace.

It didn’t take long for you to become a whimpering mess in his arms yet again nor it didn’t take you long to come on his cock for a second time. Bucky swore as he buried his face in your neck, groaning and grunting as he chased his own orgasm. You slid your hand in his hair, your orgasm still ringing through your body, and pulled on them hard.

“Fuck!” Bucky exclaimed and his body collapsed on you, plastering you fully on the wall. You could feel every twitch, every weak spurt of come in your pussy. You hummed. Bucky was cursing with a weak voice. His legs were trembling as he lowered you on the ground with himself. You played with his hair for a couple seconds before getting off of him carefully. You could feel his come leaking, your legs tingling and satisfaction making your body hum happily. You grabbed another t-shirt from your closet and pulled it on you, padding back to the kitchen and leaving Bucky on the floor of your bedroom.

As you were sipping your water, he walked in. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips, chest bare and hair a mess, he looked thoroughly debauched. You smiled lightly.

“Damn, I could use a long nap,” he said, chuckling. You hummed. You poured him a glass of water, too, before you marched back into your room and grabbed his sweatshirt and shoes. When you returned, he was putting the empty glass back. You threw his sweatshirt to him, dropping his shoes by the door. Bucky caught the clothing on the air and looked at you all confused. You opened the door.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said with a cold voice. He blinked.

“What?”

“It’s late. Goodnight,” you repeated, showing the door with your head. His confused expression went and an unreadable one took its place before he straightened. He put his sweatshirt on and laughed coldly.

“Revenge,” he said, laughing again. He looked at you for a couple seconds before he grabbed his shoes and pulling them on quickly. He turned to you, looked like he was going to say something, but then he decided against it and walked out of your apartment.

You closed the door after him. Suddenly, the apartment felt cold without his warm body around you, and you shivered. Sighing sadly, you went to your room and stripped your t-shirt off to take a shower.

If it wasn’t for the ripped t-shirt on the floor of your bedroom and his come leaking, you wouldn’t believe what just happened.

You gave into him. Again. You knew that as long as you kept loving him, you were going to give in to him whenever he came around.

“Stupid,” you murmured to yourself as you stepped under the warm water. “You’re fucking stupid.”

It didn’t stop you from crying under the warm spray of your shower head while washing his come away.

#bucky barnes x reader #fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #fuckboy!bucky #loft music