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oneshot-wxnderland · 3 years

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Lab Partners With Benefits Pt. 2 | Percy Jackson

Summary: A week has gone by and Y/n hasn’t stopped thinking about her encounter with Percy. Now it’s time for her lab and she can’t tell if she’s yearning or dreading seeing him again.

Category: smut

Part 1 | Part 3

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One week later and you walked into your lab again. This time however, your table was empty. Disappointment curbed your mix of nerves, excitement, and dread at seeing Percy again as you sat down.

Good, you thought. Gives me a chance to calm the hell down and stop acting so childish.

But as the minutes ticked down to the start of class and Percy had yet to make an appearance, your eyebrows creased in thought.

Where was he? Was it normal for him to roll in at the last second?

Before last week you hadn’t paid any attention to him, but since last week he had rarely left your mind. Shamefully, you admit it. Those few hours with Percy had played on repeat since they ended. And not even just when he was kissing you, although that part was frequently visited. No, you were hung up on the most mundane things about him, like how he ran his hand through his hair whenever he got stuck on a question. Or the way he always had a beat going in his fingers or legs. Or the way actually opened a door for you. Do people even still do that?

Mack started the class with a greeting and you snapped out of your head.

Percy still wasn’t here.

Is he avoiding me? No, he’s just a college student that’s running late or skipping class. Well, he better not be skipping class because you have a tough assignment to do today. Speaking of which, you forced yourself to listen to your TA explain it.

“What did I miss?” A familiar voice whispered in your ear and you jumped, whipping your head to see Percy in the seat next to you, failing to suppress a grin.

Your frazzled nerves made you want to respond with a few choice words, but the mischievous gleam in his green eyes made it hard to stay mad at him.

“Where were you?” you asked him, passing over his copy of the work.

“I had to take care of something.”

The cryptic answer gave you cause to look over him as he turned his attention to the front of the room. His hair was messy, his cheeks slightly flushed, and you couldn’t be sure since he caught you staring, but you think you saw a cut in his shirt. It looked like he was just in a fight.

“Is your shirt cut?” you asked and reached out to inspect it, fingers meeting his side through the hole and making him jump. Percy took your wrist and brought it back up to the table.

“Hey, wait till after class,” he slyly reprimanded you, drawing a scoff out of you. Which drew the attention of the people sitting closest to you, so you both lowered your voices further.

“Seriously though,” you nodded your head to his side. “How’d that happen?”

“I snagged it,” he started. “On a tree.”

“Right.”

You were about to ask him what he did to make the tree mad when the feeling of something on your hand drew your attention. He was absentmindedly rubbing circles on your skin with his thumb, and it wasn’t until then that you realized he was still holding your hand. This made him also notice that you were holding hands and you awkwardly pulled away first. An uncomfortable silence fell over you both that lasted the rest of the lab.

It was weird how natural it felt to hold his hand and to talk with him like that. You had barely spoken since you met and while you had been moderately physically intimate with him before, you hadn’t been this kind of intimate. This whole relationship with Percy is unlike one you’ve never experienced before. You’re not quite strangers, not quite friends, not quite together. The massive grey area surrounding Percy made red flags pop up in your head. And yet, when he casually invited you back to his place once the lab had ended, your mouth accepted before your mind could stop you.

This time you actually made it into the living room before you started making out. Even going so far as to make a show of setting up your lab books on the coffee table as if you were actually going to get work done before you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him to you by his collar.

This time, you set a slower pace than your frenzied kisses against the door, allowing you to savor every move he made. Percy relinquished control of the kiss to you and tugged on your thigh until you were straddling his lap. His hands pressed flat against your lower back until your chest was flush with his and tilted his chin up to catch your lips again.

You felt him shiver when your fingertips met the back of his neck, tugging on the hair there. As a result you felt Percy smirk against your lips and in a deep voice that made heat flare up through your core he told you, “Hold on.”

Percy paused in kissing you and his warning made your eyebrows crease in confusion until you felt his hands hook under your thighs and he shifted his weight until he was slightly standing. Then he twisted and laid you down on the couch and had his mouth back on yours before you could process what had happened.

In the new position, Percy took control of the kiss and sped it up a little, but still took his time tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. His thumbs made little circles on your thighs from where he was still gripping them and it brought you back to earlier in the day. In response your own hands moved down his back and to his sides where your finger found the hole in his shirt again.

“It was a tree,” he said against your lips.

“Sure it was,” you replied.

At that Percy pushed up into a kneeling position with your legs still on either side of his hips and you worried for a second that he was actually bugged by your insistence with the hole-thing. Until he pulled his shirt off and your mind short circuited. He balled it up and tossed it across the room with a final, “There. Outta sight, outta mind.”

Your jaw was still partially dropped from the revelation of his surprisingly toned abdomen and you gave a distracted “Uh-huh” before you all but yanked him back down to you, surprising him with your strength and the newfound urgency in your kiss. He matched the new tempo and your legs hooked around his waist, causing him to groan and rock his hips down into yours.

Percy savored the gasp you let out and ground into you again. One of his hands hitched your thigh up higher and the other traveled up your hip and under your shirt to grip your side. He allowed you to catch your breath as he leaned up to your ear.

“What do you want, princess?” His husky voice blew any and all recollection of red flags and warnings straight out of your mind, in fact everything was emptied from your head except for thoughts pertaining to how good he felt pressed against you and how much more of him you needed.

“You. All of you.”

Percy could’ve died a happy man right then and there.

He ducked back down to your mouth, recapturing it with his own and picking up where he left off. This time he felt the heat of the mutual understanding of where the situation was headed and braced his hand above your head on the couch armrest. However, that action did bring up the first smart thought he’d had since he sat next to you earlier.

“Wait.” He pulled back and eyed your lips, which were red from his kisses.

“What’s wrong?” You asked and brushed a chunk of hair away from his eyes.

“If I get to have you, we’re not doing it on the couch my roommate got off Craigslist.”

You threw your head back laughing and Percy could only stare and smile dumbly, feeling something new he hadn’t felt in a long time.

But then he remembered what was to come and hooked his hands underneath your thighs again to lift you up.

Percy was conflicted. On the one hand he wanted to get to his bedroom as quickly as possible. But on the other he loved the way your arms were wrapped tight around him and how you had occupied yourself with placing kisses along his neck. So he decided to take a detour through the kitchen to grab some granola bars.

“Are you kidding me?”

“We might be hungry later!” He defended himself and felt you drop your forehead to his shoulder.

“Just walk.”

Fortunately the granola-detour didn’t completely kill the mood and Percy kicked his door shut and somehow stumbled to the bed while completely lost in your kiss. His plan was to drop you onto the covers and then take off his jeans, but you had other plans and refused to let go of him so he fell on top of you. The bouncing from the fall made your shirt ride up and Percy took the opportunity to run his hands up the exposed skin, stopping just as his fingertips were in reach of the underside of your bra.

You broke the kiss for a moment to grant his unspoken request and pulled your shirt off, but when you laid back down his lips didn’t return to yours. Instead his mouth dragged down your neck, conscious of the marks he would leave. When he reached your collar bone, your hands buried themselves in his hair as his hands squeezed your bra and placed hot kisses on the skin that spilled over the top.

“Percy,” you moaned as your back arched up into his touch. “Percy, please.”

“Please what?” He looked up at you.

“Please, touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He responded and proved his point with another tight squeeze to your chest.

“You know what I mean,” you huffed, knowing you were playing right into his teasing by getting riled up but dammit, you needed him badly.

He tilted his head innocently. “Do I?”

Even though he was looking up at you with those big green eyes, you could tell by the way his thigh pressed between your legs that he knew exactly what you meant. As hot as his teasing was, you had spent all week thinking about him and you just couldn’t wait any longer, so you pulled him up to you by his hair and tried to speak as evenly and clearly as you could.

“Percy Jackson if you do not quit teasing me I will-.” Your gasp cut you off when his hand slipped beneath your pants and pressed against your core.

“Oh, you meant here?” The cocky bastard punctuated his words with a pinch to your clit. “Is this what you wanted?”

Percy committed the speechless look on your face to memory as you glared back up at him.

“I hate you.” you ground out when the initial shock of his touch faded. You hated his infuriating smirk. You hated his disheveled dark hair. You hated how his hands left you to pull down your pants at an achingly slow pace. And you especially hated how he somehow knew exactly how to touch you.

“Is that so? Then you’re gonna really hate this.”

His warning barely registered with you before two fingers plunged into you. Percy cherished the way you cried out and clenched around his fingers, imagining how it would feel around his dick later on.

The achingly slow pace he set as his digits pumped in and out of you turned you to puddy in his hands, eyes screwed shut so that you didn’t notice Percy lean down until you felt his breath against your ear.

“You like that? You want more?” he asked, but grew unsatisfied by your lack of response. The hand that wasn’t currently brushing your g-spot with every curl came up to your jaw and turned your face to his. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you panted as his palm pressed on your clit. “I want more. Please give me more, Percy.”

“Good girl.” He praised and swiped his thumb across your bottom lip. “But I don’t think you deserve it. You’ve been greedy for my touch and ungrateful for what I give you. Distracting me all through class with your leg pressed against mine and your cleavage teasing me every time you leaned into the table.”

The way his fingers were speeding up made it hard to focus on his voice in your ear but he continued anyway.

“Barely said a word to me but now here you are,” he took his time pressing a kiss to the spot below your ear. “So desperate for my cock.”

Your approaching orgasm made your pride disappear and you readily begged him for release.

“Look at you, so pretty when you beg for me.” He watched you intently, taking in every signal your body gave until he knew you were seconds from going over the edge. “I bet you do this all the time.”

At that he suddenly pulled his hand away from where you needed it. Your whine of frustration had no affect on him as he leisurely brought his fingers to his mouth to clean them of your juices.

“Huh? I bet you tease any poor guy who happens to sit next to you. You get them so hooked on you that they follow you to bed. Isn’t that right, baby?” Percy’s words and lack of contact made you hurriedly deny them.

“No,” you insisted and turned your face to his. “Of course not.”

“No? Are you sure?” His hand caressed your jaw and moved down, tempting you with feather light touches.

“Yes. There’s only you.” Your assurances earned you a kiss.

“Good girl. Now roll over and stick that pretty ass up for me.”

Doing as he said, your cheek pressed into his pillow and your back arched for him, hoping that your eager compliance will get him to forgo any further teasing and just rail you.

Percy brushed the hair from your face and leaned down to place a sweet kiss on the back of your neck and whisper, “You’re so beautiful.”

The softness of his tone distracted you until his hands found their hold on your hips and he thrusted into you.

Percy’s low groan filled your ears while his cock filled your pussy. You don’t think you’ve ever been this stretched before and you weren’t sure you could’ve taken him if you hadn’t already been so wet. The way his hands gripped you tighter made you peek over your shoulder to see his eyes shut and arms strained to keep himself from ramming into you.

I mean what can you say it was fucking hot.

To put him out of his misery you rolled your hips against his as a signal that you were ready and it apparently caught him off guard since he let out a cute little gasp. Then he caught you looking at him and his cheeks reddened at your smiling to his boyish response. The only way you could describe his following look was “You’re gonna regret that.”

But when he started off at a brutal pace you honestly could say you didn’t regret a thing. His dick pounded into you and hit deeper than anyone else had before. Your hands desperately tried to find purchase on his sheets and gripped them tightly when one of his hands snaked around and found your clit again.

Percy hung on every noise you made and wondered if anything else would ever sound as good as you moaning his name, which made him want to see your face as you did.

He pulled out of you and turned you onto your back, your eyes meeting as he propped one of your legs against his shoulder and went back to work. He liked this. Being able to watch you come undone around him, your hair a mess and your chest bouncing with his thrusts. But he also saw your hands grappling the sheets for something to hold onto and he thought he would offer his services one again.

Percy leaned down over you and captured your mouth with his once again, not breaking his rhythm even as your hands tugged on his shoulders and pulled him closer to you still.

“Y/n,” he groaned into your mouth when your hand gave a particularly hard pull to his hair.

“Percy, I’m… I-.”

“I know.” Your climax was moments away and Percy’s was right behind it. “Cum for me, babygirl.”

This boy was going to be the death of you. Percy leaned back from the kiss to hear all of the pretty sounds you made as you came around his cock, the clenching of your walls sending him over the edge with you.

You pulled Percy back down to you for one last kiss as you rode out your highs, this one slower than before. His forehead rested against yours as you were catching your breath and he kissed it before rolling over to lay next to you. Time passed as you both lay there for a while coming down from your highs and your eyes remained on the ceiling as your hand tentatively found his.

This is probably too weird he’s going to ask me to leave now that it’s over and in what world do you hold hands with somebody you just hooked up with? Your worries were silenced as he confidently took your hand in his and squeezed it.

“You want a granola bar?” he asked, causing a tired and satisfied burst of laughter to come from you.

“Fuckin… sure,” you replied and he reached over you to the nightstand and on his forearm you saw the “mysterious gang affiliated” tattoo that Lauren had been freaked out about. You admit, it was kind of weird, but it was probably nothing.

It could be initials or something, you pondered. The ‘P’ could stand for Percy.

“Here.” The boy in question offered you a granola bar and you unwrapped them before cheersing. You were kind of hungry, content to just lay there and eat the stupid granola bar and breathe with him.

“You did clean that couch after you got it off Craigslist, right?” You asked him after it popped into your head.

“What? Oh… yeah. Yeah.”

“Liar.”

Part 3

#percy jackson #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #jason grace #jason grace smut #Jason Grace x Reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n

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elldell1204 · 3 years

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Hair Me Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

Y/N wears her hair in many different styles, and her boyfriend, Spencer, seems to appreciate each one in different ways.

A/N: So, I just wanted to add, I try to make my ‘reader’ as ambiguous as possible, that way you can identify with them more. However, I struggled with this one, as I am a white female with straight hair and not much knowledge of (though deep appreciation and love for) natural or curly hair, seeing as I have little to no experience. Therefore, I have tried making this as inclusive as possible but I’m sorry if at any point seems too specific and you can’t put yourself into the story. Feel free to call me out on anything you aren’t comfortable with!

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, normal Criminal minds stuff (let me know if I missed anything)

wc - 3,217

Dutch Braids -

You and Spencer had just gotten off from work about an hour ago after a gruelling day with an equally stressful case. Which is why as soon as you were both showered, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find and waiting for the takeout to arrive, you were both sprawled out on the couch in front of a movie, having no energy left to talk, let alone move when there was a knock at the door. Seeing as you were the one with less of the other person’s body parts draped across you, you got up and answered while Spencer didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t blame him; the poor boy was exhausted.

Around twenty minutes later, you’d both eaten, leaving your plates on the coffee table in front of you with the mental promise to wash them later, and were back to snuggling into each other, getting as close as you possibly could to soothe each other after the day you had. Your head was tucked neatly into Spencer’s chest, your knees drawn up to near your chin in the foetal position, making yourself as small as possible. Spencer was the opposite; spread like a starfish with his arm around your back and his head rested against the back of the couch.

If someone were to ask you what the movie was about, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Truth is, you felt like you were stuck in-between both the lands of sleep and consciousness, due to wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend (despite him being your work partner for the best part of sixteen hours) but also wanting to sleep for three days. In attempt to make yourself just a little bit more awake, you started trying to focus on different things around you. First it was the quote on the front of the main character’s t-shirt, then it was the Metro you could faintly hear as the last train of the night rattled by, then it was Spencer’s finger tracing up and down one of your braids that you’d done quickly after your shower.

“Spence?” You murmured the first words spoken in practically an hour.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, his half-lidded eyes shifting to your face that you had lifted to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was merely a whisper, and if you weren’t listening for it, the only way you’d know he was speaking was from the vibration of his chest.

You gestured to your hair with your finger, and only when he realised did he stop what he was doing and chuckle lightly and dreamily.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not sure, it just feels soft, I guess. I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled at him, mustering up the energy to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his lips before retracting back to your previous position.

Ponytail -

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You usually like to try and stay as positive as you could be when chasing a serial, paedophilic murderer, but there’s only so many deep breaths and coffee breaks you can take before you really start to get pissed off. Not only had you been stuck in hot and sticky Texas for near a week, but you had also been put into single rooms at the hotel you were staying at. Now, not to sound ungrateful (because you very much are of the fact that you at least have a roof over your head), but only having one single bed to a room means that you can’t snuggle with Spencer after a long day, and these were proving to be very long days.

And to add to the problem, Hotch was constantly on edge since the start of the case, with the victims looking a hell of a lot like Jack, and when you were the closest person to him on that first day when his tensions finally boiled over, you had been the one in the firing line of his rage. Which you can take. You knew he didn’t mean it, and if he had to take his frustrations out on someone for a few days so he could do his job with a clearer head, you were happy to be the target.

But now after a particularly rough six days, your patience was wearing thin, and everyone on the team could see it, which is why they offered you and Spencer any jobs they were assigned that would get them out of the stifling police precinct. And you knew they had good intentions, but even that was starting to annoy you.

So now you were sat at the table in the conference room, a pen between your teeth as your eyes frantically search over the evidence you have piled in front of you, desperate for the answers to this case to fly off the page and hit you smack dab in the forehead so you could just go home and have a fight with a pillow or something, anything to destress.

You heard the footsteps coming from the doorway, but you refused to turn around. If it was Hotch, you swear to god you might actually lose your job with what you were thinking of doing if he was short with you one more time. If it was Morgan ready to hand you a first-class ticket to visit the slightly wrinkly and very smelly coroner again, you might actually flip the table.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer greeted you warmly, sitting on the table to your right as your eyes slowly lifted to meet his. No, not Spencer. Hold it together, Y/N, hold in your rage, he’s done nothing wrong. “Oh, I haven’t seen you with your hair tied back in a while. I like it.”

Such a sweet statement, and yet it broke you. You could see in his face the moment your eyes lit aflame with anger, and you couldn’t miss the harsh swallow he took to brace himself for your fury.

“Well, Dr Reid, let me teach you a lesson, shall I? 3 reasons. One, it is way more practical for kicking someone’s ass, and right now, I would love nothing more than catching the sleazy son-of-a-bitch who is deriving pleasure from this,” You gesture violently to the crime scene photos splayed out in front of you before continuing to spit your venom. “And beating the living shit out of him until he’s crying out for his mommy. Two, do you know how many officers have tried to flirt up a storm with me in the past week? Way too many to count on one fucking hand! One even went so far as to try stroking my hair like a goddamn cat, and so to avoid that situation, I have put it in a ponytail, because if anything of that nature happens again, I won’t hesitate to break someone’s arm. And three, I usually have it down because most men think you’re dumber when you play with your hair, or I can play seductive to get what I want without a warrant fifty percent of the time. But seeing as we have absolutely nobody on the suspect list right now, and the sheer fury I possess at this moment, I don’t foresee the possibility of me needing to be either of those things, do you?”

Your lungs were heaving once you were done, and poor Spencer looked like you just told him you were a Russian spy sent to kill him. Your eyes were locked onto each other’s, and when you came back to reality from your rant, you recognised the softness and love in his that you were grateful for every day. Granted, they were a little masked by fear right now, but you’d admired him often enough to be able to spot even the faintest hint of your favourite emotions.

You let out a deep sigh, signalling you were back to your normal self as much as you could be right then, before dropping your head into your hands to rub your eyes with the heel of your palms.

It was then you felt the unmistakeable warmth of Spencer’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you gathered yourself together, bringing tears to your eyes as you opened them once more to face him.

“Oh, Spencer,” You whispered, grabbing his hands tightly with yours, lifting them to your lips and pressing sweet kisses to his knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it’s really not. I never should have raised my voice at you, especially when it’s not your fault at all that I’m frustrated.”

“Y/N, I understand.” He smiled at you, a small and sympathetic one, but it calmed you nonetheless as he stood, pulling you up from the chair to wrap his arms tightly around you. You gripped onto him like he might run away if you didn’t, breathing in the warm scent that is so unmistakeably Spencer. Your vision was now cloudy with the tears that so desperately wanted to spill, but you were adamant you wouldn’t give the local cops the satisfaction of seeing you with wet cheeks. Luckily, Spencer knows you better than anyone.

“There’s a park a few minutes’ walk from here with a small duck pond. Would you like some fresh air?”

You nodded frantically against his neck as you finally let go, allowing him to lead you out of the precinct, hand in hand, his thumb running softly over yours as you walked.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, leaning in closer to him as you carried on down the path.

“Nonsense,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We deserve each other. Just remind me not to get on your bad side; I like having both of my arms functional.”

Bed Head -

A blaring alarm at 6am has to be up there with one of the most annoying things on the planet, and I work with Derek Morgan. You let out a groan, your arm floundering around to find the source of the wretched noise. Groaning in defeat of not being able to do it with your eyes closed, you cracked one open, locating your phone, and finding sweet relief in the snooze button. A very overexaggerated yawn left your lips as you attempted to stretch your arms over your head in an effort to wake up, only to find one immobilised in the grasp of your boyfriend.

You took advantage the rare opportunity of waking up before Mr Alarm Clock himself (also known as Dr Spencer Reid) by allowing yourself a few minutes to admire his form in the golden sliver of sunlight escaping the outside world through the gap in the curtains. It was only when your alarm went off again after the five-minute snooze timer did you try to wake him up.

“Spence, baby, time to wake up.” You whisper, attempting to gently coax him from his slumber. When that didn’t work, you laced your fingers through his mousy-brown curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just how he likes. Only then did you receive a response in the form of a muffled groan into his pillow.

“C’mon, my love. We need to get ready for work.” You spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

You chuckled lightly, wrapping your arms around his torso as your legs entwined. “Okay, my sleepy darling. But only five.”

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He mumbled, nestling his face into your hair as he pulls you closer than you thought possible.

Safe to say you took breakfast to go, just so you could bask in each other’s embraced for a little longer than five minutes.

Post-Sex Hair -

You climbed from his lap gently, unsure if your legs could hold yourself up as you panted heavily. Practically throwing yourself down beside Spencer on the bed, he took the opportunity to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his as you laid your head on his chest. You were both still a little dreamlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and when Spencer began to press kiss after kiss into your hair, you didn’t hesitate to enjoy them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, punctuating his statement with a final kiss for good measure.

You looked up from your position, shifting slightly so you were face to face, and scrunched up your nose. “Really? Even with sweaty sex hair?”

He chuckled, and you followed with a giggle of your own as he leant over to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Especially with sweaty sex hair.” He whispered with a joking edge to his voice, his lips brushing with yours.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the team wouldn’t love my sweaty sex hair, so I better hop in the shower.” You smiled, kissing him quickly once more before climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, a sway to your hips.

As you reached the door, you turned to shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the blissed-out boy behind you. “Oh, are you not joining me?”

You swear you’d never seen the boy move as fast as when he clambered from the bed and chased you into the bathroom.

Straightened -

There was something about going undercover that equally excited you and creeped you out. Especially tonight, when you were having to go under in a club to catch a guy who was killing adulterous wives. You were the closest person in the team to his type, so it was a no-brainer to choose you, really. Didn’t mean you were happy with it, and it seemed that Spencer wasn’t either, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Well, you were going to do it no matter what, so why not get yourself dressed up and try to bring some joy back to a less than ideal situation? That is why you were stood in the locker room of a precinct on the west coast in a red crushed velvet minidress with black heels, a fake wedding ring and straightened hair, and you couldn’t lie, you were totally feeling yourself.

“Woah, Y/N, you look…amazing.” You heard Spencer say as he entered the room.

You turned your head and smiled at him, feeling a little flustered as his eyes trailed over your form. You attempted to push your dress further down your thighs as he walked to you, his hands encircling your waist from behind and his head perched on your shoulder.

“It’s not too much is it?” You mumbled, looking down at yourself to do a final once over.

You felt his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to look him in the eyes through the mirror, ones filled with love and a hint of desire that set your skin aflame. He brushed your hair aside from your neck to trail kisses down the side of your throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from your lips.

“No, Y/N, you look badass.”

You giggled at the word that seemed so foreign coming from Spencer, but that was soon muffled when he spun you around by his hands on your hips and his lips hungrily met yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, his tongue coming to swipe at your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You granted it, and soon you felt your back collide with the cool metal of the lockers. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt as you explored his mouth with your tongue, relishing in the taste of him. You laced a hand up into his hair as you felt a hand that he had at your waist moving to your ass, gripping it roughly, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Reid? Y/L/N? You two lovebirds ready?” You heard Morgan mock from the doorway and you both immediately jumped apart like some sort of invisible wall had shot up between you.

Looking around to see that Morgan wasn’t in your eyeline, given that the lockers luckily blocked you two from his view. But not from earshot, seeing as you could quite clearly hear his hearty chuckles as his footsteps got quieter and quieter.

You looked up at Spencer, his hair dishevelled and his tie askew, a look of both embarrassment and amusement at being caught making out like two horny teenagers adorned his face. A grin broke out on your lips, which he mirrored, and soon you were both laughing hysterically as you sorted yourselves out in the tiny little mirror on the wall, attempting to make it look like you weren’t a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off, before re-joining the team in the conference room.

Messy Bun -

Ugh, cold and flu season. You swear you never make it through it unscathed. And it seems as if your battle was commencing today. You woke up feeling dreadful; runny nose, scratchy throat, constant sneezing, and red-rimmed eyes. Attractive.

There was no question in having to call in sick, so after throwing your hair up in the messiest of messy buns and locating the snuggest blanket, you dialled the number. You could practically hear the wince from Hotch when you started having a sneezing fit down the phone. Now you weren’t sure if you could look the man in the eye when you went back.

Once that torture was over and done with, you were feeling sorry for yourself and decided on a warm cup of tea and a dose of shitty daytime television. You were halfway through some over-enthusiastic talk show when you heard a knock at your door. Refusing to leave the blanket behind that you’d burrito’d yourself in, you shuffled over to the door.

You didn’t expect a very sympathetic looking Spencer on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a welcomed sight.

“Hey.” You croaked out.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You gave him a look that said it all, and he chuckled lightly. He lifted the bag he had in his hand. “I brought the best cure I could think of; chicken noodle soup.”

“I don’t want to get you sick, Spencer.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side but holding onto your selfless and rational thoughts by a mere thread.

You smiled at that, stepping aside to let him in. He passed you and went and got comfortable on your couch, grabbing a fork on the way. When you met him in the living room, he was ready and waiting for you with his arms open for you to snuggle into.

“Don’t worry about me. Now come on, your soup is getting cold.” He smiled, making grabby hands at you.

You made your way over, sinking into his embrace as he passed you the container and your fork. After a few mouthfuls and several minutes of listening to his steady breaths and thumps of his heart, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you.” You mumbled once you were finished and had placed your empty container on the coffee table in front of you, nuzzling further into Spencer’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Didn’t have to tell you twice.

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #mgg #mgg fluff

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hrina · 4 years

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In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes!

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

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#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #oh my god i can't believe this is the last part aaaaaaaaaa #i really hope u all like it!#boxrry #harry writing

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es-kay-zee · 3 years

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Fire Alarm pt 3 | Kim Seungmin x Reader

Genre: smut, angst

Warnings: softdom! seungmin, female reader, sir kink, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of infidelity.

Requested: yes

Word count: 3k

Taglist: @channiesky @bxngchxn @moonlit-lixie @jisungsplatforms

____________________

You wish you could go back in time, back to the honeymoon stage of your relationship. A happier time, one where you didn’t find yourself wondering where it all went wrong.

You and Seungmin were drifting apart, had been for a while now. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things fell apart. It was a gradual thing. At the start you would get good morning texts every single morning, now you were lucky to get a text at all. You hadn’t been on a date with Seungmin for weeks, he’d always claimed to be too busy every time you’d suggested going out.

Most of your friends had told you, numerous times, that it might just be best to break up with him. But you refused to accept that. You were determined to make it work, determined to salvage the scraps of your failing relationship. No matter what it takes, you’ll do it.

So, when yours and Seungmin’s six-month anniversary rolls around, you decide that that’s your chance to bring back the spark that was so quickly lost.

You’d sent him a text when you woke up that morning, saying happy anniversary, that you love him, and to come over to your apartment that evening because you had something special planned. It took him a while to respond, despite the fact that you knew he was awake because of morning classes. But you decided to ignore how long his reply took. He agreed to come over and you set your plan in motion.

Finishing classes for the day, you walk through the front door of your apartment. You’d moved into the small space after last semester ended, wanting to live in a space that’s off-campus. You loved it. While the commute to classes took a bit longer than before, it was totally worth it in your opinion.

You walk into the kitchen, grocery bags in your hands. The supermarket trip was slightly expensive, a bit pricier than your normal trips. But you didn’t mind, you were willing to fish out the extra money in order to make Seungmin’s favourite meal for your anniversary dinner. Placing the groceries on the kitchen counter, you start unpacking the ingredients. Once they’re all unpacked, you begin, tying your hair up and pulling up the recipe you’ve used in the past.

By the time you’ve finished cooking, there’s still 20 minutes before Seungmin is set to show up. Leaving the food in the oven – with it turned off, of course – to stay warm, you decide on taking a quick shower to freshen up after the long day. Classes had been beating your ass and Seungmin being distant really didn’t help. You hoped that tonight could help fix your failing relationship.

Your shower is quick, but the warmth of the water helps to loosen up some of your tight muscles. Stress had been getting the better of you. Hopping out of the shower, you dry off and grab the dress you laid out for yourself earlier. It’s a simple dress, not too fancy for an at-home dinner but still nice enough for an anniversary dinner with your boyfriend. It was a dress that you love, one that flatters your body just right.

Making your way back out to the living room, you take a seat on the couch, waiting for Seungmin to arrive. The clock ticks over to 7pm, Seungmin’s arrival time. He’s still not there. You give him a bit more time, knowing that you can’t expect him to be there exactly on time. He might’ve been busy or caught up with something that’s got him running late. But when another 35 minutes pass by and he still hasn’t shown up, you start to get annoyed.

After flicking him a quick text to ask how long he’s gonna be, you fall back against the couch with a huff. His one saving grace is that he replies straight away, saying that he’s almost there. And true to his word, you hear a knock at your front door barely 5 minutes later.

You jump up, straightening out the creases in your dress before walking towards the door, opening it, and stepping aside for Seungmin to enter. He’s dressed casually, jeans and a simple shirt. A small part of you wishes he put in a little more effort to wear something nicer but the bigger part of you is just glad he showed up.

“Sorry I took so long, class ran late.” You know it’s a lie, he didn’t have any afternoon classes today. But you don’t question him, not wanting to start an argument.

“It’s okay, you’re here now,” you smile, closing the door before standing on your tippy-toes and kissing Seungmin briefly. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

You lead him towards the table, directing him towards one of the empty seats while you go back to the kitchen to dish up the food. Returning to the table with both plates in your hands, you set one down in front of Seungmin, and place the other down at your seat.

Dinner goes by relatively easily, only feeling slightly awkward. You don’t know why it feels that way, but you ignore it anyway. There’s small conversation as you both eat, along with multiple compliments from Seungmin about your cooking.

Once dinner is over and the conversation has come to a pause, you both stand up, grabbing your dirty dishes and heading towards the kitchen.

“I wash, you dry?” you say, grabbing his plate from him and placing both of them in the sink before turning on the tap.

“Of course,” Seungmin replies, picking up the tea towel and smiling at you.

You fill up the sink, ensuring that the water isn’t too hot that it burns your hands, and you begin to scrub at the dishes. Every item that you clean and put to the side, Seungmin picks it up and dries it before putting it away in it’s assigned cupboard.

You barely make it through half of all the cooking dishes before you feel Seungmin’s arms wrap around your waist and his lips against your shoulder. He places gentle kisses on the exposed skin, slowly moving up until he’s nipping softly as the side of your neck. You drop the spatula from your hands back into the water, and Seungmin holds the tea towel up in front of you so that you can dry your hands.

Once your hands are dry, you place the tea towel on one side of the kitchen counter and rest your head back against Seungmin’s shoulder, relishing in the way his lips feel against your skin. It’s delicious, a feeling that you haven’t felt for a while. You missed it.

Seungmin’s front is pressed firmly against your back, the edge of the kitchen counter pressing uncomfortably against your hips. But you couldn’t care less about the discomfort, not when your boyfriend was finally touching you again. He slides one of his hands up your body, slipping it under the fabric of your low-cut dress and cupping your breast. You can feel his smirk against your skin when he finds you braless.

His thumb slowly circles your nipple, and your breathing picks up at the stimulation. The kisses start to get rougher, and before long he’s sucking blemishes into the skin, trailing up and down the left side of your throat. He pinches your nipple, gently pulling and twisting the bud, finally eliciting a quiet whine from you.

“Turn around,” he whispers in your ear, his voice a note darker than usual. His breath against your ear sends a small shiver of excitement straight down to your core, and you can already feel yourself growing embarrassingly wet.

He moves back slightly, allowing you just enough space to do as he says, quickly turning yourself around so that it’s your back pressing uncomfortably against the edge of the kitchen counter. But again, you didn’t care about that. You just craved more of his touch.

His hands grip harshly at your thighs, a silent request for you to jump. And again, you’re more than happy to oblige. You jump, and he seats you on the counter-top, and he wastes no more time before pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss.

While you’d truly missed the way his hands felt against your body, you missed this more. The way his lips felt against your own. The way his kisses could ignite a fire within you, how they could make you feel alive.

Your lips move in sync, a rushed frenzy of saliva and teeth. His hands rest on your waist, while yours cup his face. His tongue finds entrance into your mouth, moving with yours.

He moves his hands, placing them on your thighs and slowly sliding the hem of your dress upwards. You moan when he presses the pad of one of his fingers against your covered core.

“Fuck, you’re dripping, baby,” he says, your face heating up at his words. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, hiding in embarrassment. “Who’s got you this wet?”

“Y-you, sir.”

He slides his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, slowly sliding the fabric down your legs and off of you. You hiss as the cool air hits your soaked folds, and Seungmin loves the sound. He’s quick to return his fingers to your core, rubbing languid on your clit, pulling a needy mewl from your kiss-swollen lips.

You grind your hips against his hand as much as you can in your position, and Seungmin just chuckles darkly at your desperation. He continues the slow movements, knowing that it’s nowhere near enough to get you close to your orgasm.

“Please,” you whimper, desperately wanting more.

“Please what, y/n? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me exactly what you want.”

Your ears burn hot as you try to fight away the shyness. You know you have to say it out loud if you want to get off.

“F-finger me. Please, I need it. I’ll be your good girl, please, please, please,” you babble quickly, moments away from crying out of desperation.

“You’ll be my good girl?” he says, continuing his teasing on your clit, wanting to hear you beg more.

“Mhm, your good girl. I promise, just please, I really need it.”

Seungmin smiles at you, loving how he can get you begging so shamelessly with such ease. He stops his torturously slow movements, instead sliding two fingers into your slick pussy. His fingers move in and out of you, curling against your sensitive spot and you instantly moan. You’ve gone untouched by Seungmin for long enough that you’re extra sensitive, his ministrations already sending you hurtling towards orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers, and that’s all you need – along with one well placed thrust of his fingers – for you to release all over his digits. He guides you through your high, continuing to finger you until you’ve come back down. He slides his digits out of your cunt, bringing them instead to your lips. You open, and he slides them into your mouth, resting them against your tongue.

You get to work, sucking and licking his fingers until they’re clean of your release, before pulling them from your mouth with a soft pop. Seungmin can’t help but groan as he watches you, absolutely loving the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingers.

Seungmin quickly helps you off the countertop, taking you hand in his and pulling you towards the bedroom. You smile on the way there, excited to finally be getting dicked-down by your boyfriend again.

Finally reaching your bedroom, both you and Seungmin are quick to shed off your clothes, not wanting to waste anymore time. Finally stripped of your clothes, you lie on the bed and Seungmin comes to hover over you. He takes his cock in his hand, rubbing the head up and down against your slit. Your cunt tries clenching around nothing, wanting little more than for him to be inside you already.

Luckily for you, Seungmin is now just as needy as you are. He slowly begins to push into you, not stopping until his hips are flushed with yours. A loud moan escapes you; you haven’t felt this full for a little while. And you almost whine when he starts to pull back out, only to have the air knocked from your lungs when he thrusts back into you.

He’s quick to set a pace; not too fast and not too slow. Just right for the both of you. The pleasure he’s providing you is unbelievable, the head of his cock repeatedly hitting the spot inside of you that his fingers were curling against earlier. The feeling has you seeing stars. You wrap your arms around his body, scratching your nails down the expanse of his back. He groans delightedly at the slight pain, and you can tell he loves it. His thrusts continue, and you can feel yourself nearing you second high, the knot tightening in your stomach. Your body feels light, as if you’re floating on a cloud as the pleasure encompasses your entire body. You feel it everywhere, the warmth that can be felt in every single one of your nerves.

And that’s when he says it, another girl’s name. Everything around you comes to a standstill, except for Seungmin. He hasn’t noticed his mistake yet. His hips keep thrusting into yours quickly, but it no longer feels good. You feel nothing as his cock continues to drag against your walls, tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. It hurt; the feeling of your heart being ripped from your chest. It wasn’t just an emotional pain; you could feel it physically. A physical ache deep in your chest as you tried desperately to hold back the sobs.

“Get off me,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to speak any louder. But Seungmin doesn’t hear you, instead maintaining his pace. You place your hands on his chest and push, hard. He halts, looking down at you questioningly. “Get the fuck off me.”

“What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Oh, so you do know my name?” you say, your voice breaking as your heart continues to shatter and you try to stave off your growing anger.

“What the hell are you on about?” he asks, pulling out of you and standing up. You also stand, grabbing your dressing gown and wrapping it around yourself, using it as a shield in an attempt to protect your heart from more damage.

“How long have you been cheating on me?”

“Excuse me?”

“How long?” you repeat, wanting a straight answer from him.

“Y/n, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do this?! You moan out someone else’s fucking name and you tell me not to do this?!”

“What do you want me to say?” Seungmin says, wanting to be anywhere else but right here, right now.

“I want you to tell me the truth. How long have you been cheating on me?”

There’s a long pause before he answers, and it’s obvious that he wants the world to swallow him whole. He never intended on getting caught, but now that he has, he has to own up to what he’s done.

“Two months.”

With the two words, the broken fragments of your heart were taken and crushed into dust. 2 months. 8 weeks. 52 whole days that he’s been seeing someone behind your back. You’d be lying if you said you never once suspected something was up, but you’d refused to believe it. Adamantly denying it until it wasn’t even a thought anymore. Maybe you should have listened to your gut when it told you something was going on.

“Did this mean nothing to you?” you sob, gesturing between Seungmin and yourself. “Did I mean so little that you had to see someone else?”

“No! Of course not! Y/n, I care about you, so much.”

“Bullshit. If you cared, then how could you do this?” Your tears continue to fall relentlessly, staining your cheeks as you cry.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, okay? I really am. It was a stupid mistake,” Seungmin says, taking a step towards you. But you take a step back, not wanting him anywhere near you. His own tears are falling now too, it finally dawning on him just how badly he’s fucked up.

“A stupid mistake that went on for two whole months,” you point out, and Seungmin can tell where this is going.

“Please, I promise it won’t happen again.”

You’re right, it won’t happen again,” you say, desperately trying to get a hold of your crying. “Because we’re over.”

His heart breaks at your words, but you don’t care. He broke yours first. You don’t care if it hurts him to break up, you can’t allow yourself to stay with someone who cheats on you. Not now, not ever.

“Get dressed and then get out. I don’t want to see you again.”

Seungmin knows better than to continue arguing with you about this. He knows that he’s ruined any possibility of staying in a relationship with you. He quietly gathers his discarded clothes and gets dressed. He still doesn’t say a word as he walks towards your bedroom door. He only pauses once on his way, briefly looking back at you before continuing on his way. You try to maintain the little amount of composure that you managed to regain until you hear the sound of your apartment’s front door open and close. Only once you’re sure he’s gone do you truly allow yourself to break down. Crumbling to the floor and letting the sobs uncontrollably wrack through your body. You cry.

You loved Seungmin, you really did. Perhaps a part of you still does, despite what he’s done. You just wonder why he couldn’t love you back. Why he couldn’t stay loyal. It was heart-breaking. Seungmin’s attraction for you was just that, an attraction. Whatever he felt towards you wasn’t love, it was something similar. Something that, for a while, he truly believed to be love. And in the end, he ruined love for you.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #seungmin smut #kim seungmin smut

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

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a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo angst #i fully stan the fact that kuroo is highly respectful of anyone and especially women #no one can fight me on this #stay hydrated and get good quality sleep and eat some nutritious food and take your meds!!!

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nambamjun · 3 years

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Star Stuff {SMG}

Pairing: (Hufflepuff) Song Mingi x (Hufflepuff, Gender Neutral) Reader

Genres: Hogwarts AU, mutual pining, friends to perhaps lovers, fluff, some angst

Warnings: I think one or two instances of slight language? Nothing too too bad though

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I’m finally and officially done with university for the semester! Off and on break till the fall, which means I’ll have a lot more time to write! I’m home with my cat and it’s missing Mingi hours (as per usual) so I figured why not put a lil thing out here super quick? Comments and (constructive) criticisms are always welcome, hope you enjoy ~<3

You stood on the top most floor of the astronomy tower, pulling your jacket closer to your frame and breathing outwardly before burying your nose deeper into your house scarf that wrapped tightly around your neck. The crisp October air swirled around you, miscellaneous leaves dancing around the floor as it tousled your hair. You looked at your wrist watch, a gift from your muggle friend back home. Staring at the face you wondered how she was getting on these days. Sure, it had only been two and a half months since you had seen her last before leaving for this term, but knowing that didn't really make you miss her any less.

To keep you company while missing old friends, though, you made new ones. Friends that you didn’t have to hide a pretty substantial part of your life from... aka, anything to do with magic. While it wasn’t as if you were popular you did have a few people who really exemplified the saying “quality over quantity”, and you knew that just as you would always have their backs, they would always have yours. Seeing as most of them were hufflepuffs including you this wasn’t too surprising. Most, not all, but hey the value of loyalty was held quite highly in your close knit group.

Speaking of a hufflepuff friend… you zoned back in to your wrist. 11:37pm. You stuffed your now icy hand back in your pocket and huffed. Where is he…? This wasn’t the first time you two had snuck out after hours, far from it. Still, you hoped he hadn’t been caught. That would have definitely weighed on your conscience. I’ll give him until ten of midnight. Thirteen minutes is enough time, if he isn’t here by then… I guess I’ll head back and hope that he just fell asleep or something.

And that is what you did. Five minutes... eight... eleven... thirteen... heck, fifteen. You gave an extra two minutes, but you could only wait around for so long. Briskly walking towards the door the only thought in your head was that you hoped he was warm in bed and that’s all there was to it. Well, that and the hopes that you, too, would be in that same placement in your own room. Lost in thoughts of blankets and pajamas, however, you failed to see someone start to come through the doorway just as you were about to exit. Your bodies crashed together and you stumbled backward, about to give them a right piece of your mind, but any anger faded instantly when you looked upon the apologetic yet smiling face of your best friend.

“Song Mingi how dare you keep me waiting,” you pointedly whispered, lightly pushing him with your fist. “You had me worried! I had half a mind to send an owl straight to your room!” He started chuckling at your reaction and despite wanting to just be a tiny bit dramatic you couldn’t help but let his contagious smile spread to you. “So you’re laughing at me now, okay, I see how it is-” you started to throw your hands up in mock frustration.

“Oh come on, stop being a drama queen. Besides, I’m here now!” You crossed your arms and tried your best to look as indifferent as possible. He sighed and gave you a big eyed stare. “I’m sorryyyyyyy...”

Well who could stay mad at that face?

You relented, stepping forward to give him a short hug before returning to your bundled up state, nose once again deep in your yellow and black scarf. Wordlessly you two made your way over to the usual sitting spot on the side steps and sat down, backs leaning against the wall. You allowed yourself to scoot right next to him and lean into his side, sharing the warmth as your eyes gazed out into the expansive night. You didn’t know he was looking at you until he lightly muttered, “is it just one of those nights…?” You looked up at him, his eyes soft and compassionate, and felt a flood of warmth bloom outward from your chest. You hummed and slightly nodded your head before lightly placing it back down onto his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else, just put his cheek on the crown of your head and moved even closer.

It was times like this that you felt truly at peace. Here, with him, thoughts of all of the assignments you had to do didn’t even cross your mind. School drama was little more than something to chuckle at. Being homesick wasn’t even an issue, because although you were far from your family, you felt at home with him. Yes, the assignments were still there, and maybe two of your other friends were in the middle of a fight that put you in between them, but all of it would work out eventually. You’d be able to get through it all with him by your side. You grew up together, him having been one of the first friends you made upon arriving and being sorted into the same house. Now it was both of your sixth year. The fact that you didn’t have all the time in the world for moments like this loomed over your head sometimes, and it scared you that after this it would be time for the real world, where summer breaks would be no more and nights like these… you hoped they would still happen but who knows? Adults go their separate ways sometimes.

Actually, no, it wasn’t adulthood that scared you. It was the change. Being ripped away from everything you knew, maybe even everyone, just to start something else, whatever that would be. But you were especially afraid of losing him. Not being able to see his beautifully unique smile every day, hear his laugh that was sweeter to you than bird song, or even just exchange little looks so many times a day to have two second long silent conversations that the others wouldn’t be privy to.

Did you have feelings for your best friend? No.

Were you in denial about that? Well… maybe…

Were you going to do anything about it? Absolutely not.

Because he’s your best friend, and you his. You couldn’t - you wouldn’t - afford to change anything from where it is now. Moments like this still had to happen. You wouldn’t know what you would do if they didn’t, let alone if he looked at you differently. Treated you differently. Or even, worst case scenario, left altogether.

You blinked and forced yourself out of your head. You wanted to be in the moment and enjoy every moment with him you could, as fully as possible. All of that could wait until later. You took a deep breath inward and released it, letting yourself revel in the serenity you felt beside him. Little did you know that Mingi was thinking almost the same exact thoughts, with the same worries, and the same fears pitted in the bottom of his stomach. Looking up at the stars without tilting his head he thought to himself that he wouldn’t let any of that happen. He wouldn’t let you drift apart, in fact he would do everything in his power to make sure that the bond between the two of you would be stronger than ever. He allowed a small grin to work its way onto his lips. Right there and then he started plotting.

Maybe Yunho could do me a favor and get the Gryffindor quidditch team involved. That would be so cool, with sparkling letters in the air that would fly out of the ends of their brooms! Is there even a spell for that…? What about maybe putting something like a slip of enchanted paper into that one book? No that might be too subtle and easy to miss. Maybe she’s not into grand gestures though. What wouldn’t be too big but yet still somehow grand? OH! OH! What about that one plant in herbology that blooms those little flowers she loves so much? Maybe I could…

~~~~~

As his mind ran away from him the stars twinkled on above you, hearing the way your two minds crossed so beautifully and whispering to one another about where they thought it would lead. They looked down on the pair and sent some good old fashioned celestial luck to the young romantics. They knew soulmates well enough, and knew that luck wasn’t exactly something they needed in the first place, but why not? It couldn’t hurt. And besides, Mingi was coming up with so many ideas. He could use that energy to help him pick one of them and make it as perfect as possible. After all, to him, you were deserving only of perfection. Nothing less. And he’d be damned if that wasn’t exactly what you got.

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Fic Rec Thursday

So many of my recs come from @negativefouriq these days, that these lists are practically a collaborative effort! Huge credit to them <3

5 Fics

🌊and my skin was salty ocean by @ssa-naz - 4.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Getting Together, Humour, Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e22 The Fisher King

There was something about the water in Montego Bay that Spencer didn’t mind at all. Something peaceful and controlled in the way slow, steady waves rocked against his ankles, lapping up his shins. Something comforting in the softness of the sand beneath his feet. (Or: Spencer agrees to go to Jamaica with Morgan and Elle prior to the events of "Fisher King".)

🧡Technicalities by @katytheinspiredworkaholic - 3.1k, 1ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Post-Season 8, First Kiss, First Date, Getting Together, Domestic Fluff, Quality Time With Jack

Hotch invites Reid to his home one night to help with a research paper, and ends up staying much later than planned. Caught up in a typical evening with the Hotchners. Here, Reid gets to see his boss in a domestic setting, softened around the edges -- and in turn Hotch finds that Spencer just kind of fits there in his home, so seamlessly...

🍰One Thousand Times by tommytea - 6.7k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Slices of Life, Jealous Derek

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid are really into each other - it just takes them a while to notice.

🍒Two Broken Souls by Issuesofthesoul - 2.4k, 1ch, Emily Prentiss/Jennifer Jareau, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together

An alternate take on events after 200 and around 11x19.

💎Model Apparitions by @guccifloralsuits - 3.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Ex-Model Spencer, Ex-CIA Spencer, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Angst, Mystery, First Meetings, Episode: S1E6 LDSK

Dr. Spencer Reid, Hotch called him. Apparent genius and ex-CIA. Three PhDs to his title and over 6 years of prior agency experience. 22 years old, assigned straight to the most prestigious unit in the FBI. According to Gideon: “The most brilliant mind I’ve had the chance to witness.” (It does nothing to dispel Morgan’s concern).

This got kinda long so my MFLs and my fics are under the cut

Marked For Later

🍋Correspondence by @katytheinspiredworkaholic - 31k, 5/12ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Canon Divergence, S6-S8, Mutual Pining, Long-Distance Relationship, Age Difference, Phone Sex, Fluff, Romance, Smut

An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

My Fics

☁️how the cold numbs everything but grief - 1.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Grief/Mourning, Emily's Death in S6, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Derek Morgan

Six days after Emily dies, Spencer finds himself soaked in freezing water, catatonic on the bathroom floor, and only Derek can ease the roaring, burning, demanding agony of this grief.

🍝Hunger - 3k, 2ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Insecurity, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Poverty, Hurt Spencer Reid, Team as Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Side Jelle

Spencer really likes his new coworkers: they're nice, welcoming, friendly, and made his transition to the BAU as easy as possible. Which makes it impossible for him to turn down an invitation to eat dinner with them at an upscale fancy restaurant, no matter how anxious that makes a boy who grew up with next to nothing feel.

✨storm-darkened or starry bright - 6.5k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Angst, Serious Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Spencer Reid, Protective Derek Morgan, Getting Together, Depression, Disordered Thinking, Shame, Mutual Pining, Internalised Homophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex & Drugs

Spencer contracts HIV. It all falls apart after that.

🌧Rain is a Chance to be Touched - 3.4k, 3/17ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Hurt Spencer, Angst, Getting Together, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Fighting, Making Up, Fluff, Domesticity, Season/Series 05, Angst with a Happy Ending (Lots of TWs // WIP)

When Spencer is shot in the knee and Hotch’s whole family comes under attack, the depression that’s been slowly creeping up on him over the last couple of months takes over, shrouding him in a dark cloud he can’t escape.

Hotch finally realises what’s going on, but before he can say anything Spencer leaves the BAU. He throws himself into the life of the younger man, desperate to make him happy again, but will their budding new relationship actually blossom? And is Spencer’s relationship with the team broken forever?

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic-not-stupid

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awritingtree · 4 years

Text

Burnout

Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Y/N has been pushing herself past the limit with school work. When Fred notices her unusual behaviour, he decides to intervene. But what happens when Y/N snaps and says some things that could possibly destroy their relationship and friendship?

Words: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff?, mentions of anxiety attacks, lack of self-care

A/N: “What is this crap?” you ask. I don’t know myself 😂 this started off as one thing and ended up being something different. It really is not my best work. I don't know what I've written myself. I’m confused. Might delete it later, idk. But I hope you enjoy it xx

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“Good morning love,” Fred Weasley greeted his girlfriend with a kiss to her cheek as she sat down at the Gryffindor table on a Friday morning at the Great Hall.

“Hi,” Y/N Y/L/N mumbled quietly without looking at him. She reached out to grab a piece of warm toast and spread some butter on it before taking a bite. She poured herself a glass of milk, gulping it down as she munched on her piece of toast as quick as she could.

Fred frowned at Y/N’s unusual behaviour. She’d usually greet him back with an enthusiastic ‘good morning’ hugging him tightly, proceeding to make a joke which would make his laughter echo through the Great Hall on a quiet morning. He shrugged off her behaviour, reckoning she must be stressed about the Transfiguration test that afternoon.

Y/N continued to gobble up her food at a speed that was not healthy.

“Slow down, Y/N. We don’t need you choking early in the morning,” joked Lee Jordan, eliciting a chuckle from the twins.

“Shove off, Jordan,” Y/N clipped back. She shoved down the remaining bits of the toast before getting up and stringing her bag over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Fred asked.

“I need to go talk to Professor Flitwick about the assignment he gave the other day. I’ll see you guys later,” she said, leaving in a hurry.

This made Fred concerned, wondering what was going on with his girlfriend. She left without giving him a kiss goodbye; that never happened. Before he could ponder more on the topic, George pulled his attention back to a prank they’d been discussing throughout the week.

And the topic was forgotten. For now.

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Y/N sat close to the Black Lake in the company of Fred, George and Lee. Sitting cross-legged, she leaned her elbows on her knees, fingers tangled in her hair, pulling at it in frustration. Her eyes scanned the open books strewn around her, searching for something to write on the blank piece of parchment perched on her lap.

“You’re coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow, right Y/N?” asked the younger twin.

Y/N looked up, a confused look on her face. “Huh?”

“You’re coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” questioned George once again, dragging his words out slowly.

“Oh. Um no,” she said, her attention already back to the books in front of her.

Fred’s grin dropped into a frown, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What? You promised you’d come this time. You’ve missed out on every single Hogsmeade trip this year.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” Y/N replied, barely paying attention to the conversation she was a part of.

“You’ve been working since the beginning of the year. You need a break, love.”

“I can’t afford to take a break, Fred,” huffed Y/N, her eyes moving to look at the ginger beside her. The dark circles under her eyes looked more prominent in the evening light. The exhaustion and lack of sleep clear on her face.

“You’re being unreasonable. You can take one day off.”

“No I can’t,” snapped Y/N aggravated, “Just because you don’t care about graduating and your future, doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t either.”

Fred’s face contorted in anger, her words hitting straight home. He got up and stormed away without another word.

George and Lee looked at Y/N disappointed before leaving too, chasing after Fred. Y/N sighed before looking down at the blank parchment on her. She pulled at her hair as she let out a small scream of frustration. Tears that had started to gather in eyes began to flow down her cheeks. She tore the parchment into pieces, throwing it away. Y/N had begun to tremble as she pushed the books around her, attempting to throw them away from her. When there were no more books in close proximity, she curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, resting her forehead against her knees as she continued to cry.

Y/N’s fingers and toes beginning to freeze but her armpits and palms were sweating, feeling as if the temperature had been turned up a few notches. The world around her blurred out; no longer comprehending her surroundings. The only sound she could hear were her sobs as she gasped for breath. She could feel her heart thumping in her ears, the sound so loud that it almost drowned out the sound of her sobbing gasps. Her chest ached from the lack of oxygen. She could taste the salty tears streaming down her face onto her lips, feel the cold tears travelling to her jaw and down her neck. Any attempt to wipe her face clean was carried out in vain; the tears she wiped were replaced with double the amount.

“Y/N?” she heard a voice call out in the distance.

“Merlin! Y/N breathe with me okay?” the voice sounded nearer, however as if underwater, “Look at me. Y/N, look at me.”

A warm, soft hand rested on Y/N’s cheek guided her face to turn and face the voice’s owner. Y/N’s eyes focused onto the brown eyes of Ginny Weasley.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I’m here. Breathe. You can do that for me right?” she questioned softly, her voice still sounding underwater.

Y/N managed to get a small nod through her panic.

“Breathe in… 1 2 3... Breathe out… 1 2 3... Breathe in… 1 2 3... Breathe out… 1 2 3...” instructed Ginny, “Yes, just like that. Breathe… 1 2 3...” Y/N concentrated on listening to Ginny’s counts, attempting to breathe along with them. Soon enough, Ginny’s voice started to sound clear; Y/N feeling that her head was finally surfacing from the water she was drowning under. After a while, her breathing had started to regulate. A few gulps of air later, Y/N turned her attention to Ginny.

“Thank you,” Y/N muttered, quietly. She glanced away from the ginger-haired girl, not being able to hold eye contact due to the situation she had been caught in.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad I walked by at this time,” said Ginny with a soft smile. Y/N returned a small smile of her own.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you sure? Can I do anything?” Ginny asked, concerned for her brother’s girlfriend; someone whom she saw as her own sister.

“Yes. I’m fine now. I- I think I just need to go and rest for a while. Thank you, Ginny. I’ll see you later,” she said, gathering up her books hastily and leaving.

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Things had not gotten better the past few days. If anything, they had become much worse.

Fred and Y/N had not talked, only sparing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. Though she had not mentioned what she had witnessed that day to anyone, Ginny was worried about Y/N; even more when she noticed her and Fred were currently not on speaking terms. George was concerned for both his twin and best friend; Fred was in a constant bad mood and Y/N looked worse for wear. The bags under her eyes looked darker, her skin beginning to turn sallow, her hair unkempt. George hardly saw her eating when she turned up to the Great Hall during any meal, sneaking a few bites in before leaving in a hurry. To say he was worried about her would be quite the understatement.

Y/N felt awful. She could barely get out of bed in the mornings. She was constantly tired, barely paying attention in classes. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, constantly wanting to do nothing but go back to bed. She continued to cry herself to sleep every night, like she had been for the past few weeks; the reason as to why she did not know. Her body ached all over, her head being the worst. She felt lethargic, not having any energy to even pick up a glass of water. She was falling behind on her work, her grades were slipping - they had been for quite a while.

Y/N knew she needed a break. But instead she continued to push herself, the thought of taking a break and falling even more behind or the idea that her grades would worsen not allowing her to have a moment of peace.

The fact that she was fighting with Fred, not having talked to him for a few days, was not helping. She knows she was in the wrong, she should apologize and tell him what’s going on. But for some reason, she didn’t want to admit that she was struggling. Not because she was egoistic, but because she felt she constantly had something to prove. Education was the only thing she excelled in, if she lost that she felt she would be nothing. She was embarrassed to ask for help; she did not want to appear to be a burden to him, to anyone.

“That’s enough!” said George one morning to his older brother. “You both can’t keep going on like this. You need to talk to each other, you’re both miserable.”

Fred sighed, looking away from his breakfast. “I know.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for!? She’s right there,” George said gesturing towards Y/N, sitting at the end of the table with Angelina and Alicia.

He knew he had to talk to her. Fred had noticed something was wrong for weeks now. He knew she was stressed out due to school, crumbling under the pressure and expectations she placed upon herself. But he didn’t want to force himself on her, so he’d decided to wait for her to approach him first. What she’d said had hurt him, no doubt about it, but he knew that she didn’t mean it. It was the outcome of a moment of anger. He had seen her the past few days around the castle too, struggling to carry on with her day. But he was afraid to walk up to her; afraid that she would lash out at him again. Afraid that the angry words that would follow, from both their sides, would worsen the situation.

Taking a deep breath, he walked down the table towards where she sat. Angelina sent him a small smile noticing him walk up to their small group. Fred paused for a moment, gathering up the courage to speak.

Y/N jumped at the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat loudly behind her. She turned to see her boyfriend standing there, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked the same, a bit more troubled than she’d ever seen. He’d developed dark circles under his eyes; an indication he hadn’t been sleeping well, not that she had been either. Other than that, he still looked the same - the same boy that she’d fallen in love with.

“Can we- can we talk?” he asked nervously.

Y/N stared at him for a second before nodding. They both walked out of the Hall and through the corridor before entering an unused classroom. Fred shut the door behind him. The both of them did not speak a word, fidgeting as they gazed around the room, gazing everywhere except each other. Fred decided to take the initiative and start the conversation that was long due. But it seemed Y/N had made the same decision.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time. They both chuckled, the tension in the air disappearing.

Fred moved closer to Y/N, using the few seconds to come up with what to say.

“I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was completely out of line and I didn’t mean it. I could never mean something like that. You- you know I didn’t mean it right? I was just frustrated, and I know that still doesn’t excuse what I said but I’m sorry. I am so so so sorry,” said Y/N, tears brimming her eyes. She took a shaky breath trying to calm herself down.

Fred closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean what you said. I understand, love. It’s okay. Don’t cry, please,” he said softly, his thumbs drawing circles on the soft skin of her cheeks.

“I really am so-” Fred leaned down, cutting her off with a kiss. Y/N’s hand moved to hold Fred’s forearms before slowly moving up his arms to rest on his shoulders. Fred broke the kiss after a while, resting his forehead against hers as his hands moved down to her hips.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I know you’ve been stressed over school; I should’ve been more supportive.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, you-” Fred cut her off with another kiss.

“How about we both stop apologizing and just agree it was no one’s fault, purely circumstantial?” he said.

Y/N hesitated before sighing and nodding knowing she would not win. “Brilliant,” said Fred, pulling her close to wrap her up in a hug. They stood there for a while, basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms - their favourite place to be in the world - after days.

“You know you can come to me for anything, right? No matter how small or stupid you think it is, you have nothing to be embarrassed about with me. And no, you will not be burdening me. I’d be more than happy to help you,” Fred said, pulling away from the hug but still keeping Y/N at a close distance in his arms.

Fred smiled endearingly at the look of surprise that crossed Y/N’s face as she looked up at him. She really thought she’d done a better job at hiding how she felt but it seemed like Fred had seen through everything, just like he always did.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? I care about you, Y/N,” Fred said, his hand tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear gently. His hand remained there, cradling her face, “I notice every miniscule thing about you, whether you want me to or not.”

Y/N averted her eyes, ashamed of herself. How could she ever think Fred would ever judge her badly? The boy whose eyes shined with love and adoration whenever his gaze fell upon her. The boy whose face lit up with the thought or mention of her. The boy who would be ready to give up anything and everything for her, including his dream of owning a joke shop.

“Just promise me you’ll take one day off,” Fred implored. “We can do whatever you want, wherever you want. You need to take one day to relax, love. You can’t keep overworking yourself like this.”

Y/N looked up and nodded with a smile. Fred smiled back, delighted with her compliance, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her skin.

“I love you.”

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If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes @kinkyduuh @ickle-ronniekins @the-mighty-bookworm @chaoticgirl04 @malfoyspogue @dracofeltonmalfoy

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marius-vonhagen · 3 years

Text

Royal Knight Luke

Part of my Tears of Themis Royal AU Headcanons

warnings: contains spoilers for story quests up to chapter 5 part 1 and Luke's personal quest chapter 1. mentions of passing out and assassination.

word count: ~ 600 words

a/n: this is my first ever time writing headcanons so I apologize in advance

work under the cut <3

You and Luke grew up together in the same village and both dreamed of being royal knights one day. He passed tryouts at the age of 16 leaving you with the promise he would come back when he was a full-fledged knight. Unfortunately, he is bad at promises.]

When he next saw you eight years later he was surprised to see you had worked your way up to become Lord Artem's right-hand assistant. He was sad to see you never became a knight but was proud to see how far you have come from eight years ago.

He insisted on helping further your knowledge in sword fighting. You both had ample experience when you would train together as kids, but he wanted to share what he learned while training to be a knight. It was his way of protecting you when he was not around.

His fear for your safety was heightened when he found out you had joined the secret NXX society formed to help deter insurrection and assassinations in the kingdom. Despite trying to convince you to leave. Your determination to stay showed him how much you had changed while he was gone. It made him sad to see how much of your life he had missed being away.

The day it was revealed he was actually a spy as well for the kingdom, he saw the worry spring up in your eyes. It took him back that despite reluctantly ditching you in the village all those years ago, you still cared for him.

The reason he is so concerned for you is because of his own life span being cut short. During a mission into the neighboring kingdom, he got into a fight with their royal wizard and was cursed to die in three years time. Only he and Vyn know about his curse.

Prince Marius will sometimes screw with him and force him to watch over him 24/7 to see how long he can go before he passes out. His record is a day straight.

Despite being a royal knight, he is often assigned to the lands by Lord Artem’s estate. The two are familiar through the NXX and will sometimes when time allows, play cards by the fire with you joining in once in a while. He once tried to cheat against Lord Artem (who has never lost) and was “punished” by having to serve you for a day. It was not really a punishment for Luke.

Luke is probably the closest with Vyn due to the fact Vyn is researching a way to cure Luke’s curse. He owes much to Vyn for his time and he is often fascinated by magic and its properties. His inner child comes out reminiscing of the stories he read as a kid.

It is only after he saves you from an attempted assassination on your life that he finally confesses to you.

It is quick and he stumbles over his words but he realized that all he has done after reuniting is because he cares and loves you.

His favorite date spot to take you is one of the many antique shops in the capital. There he tells you his dreams of one day owning an antique shop once he retires from knighthood. But only he sees that as an unattainable dream.

He still can’t find the words to tell you that his love is on a ticking clock, but until he finds the words, he will live each day protecting you (and the royal prince if he feels like it).

#tot #tears of themis #tears of themis headcanons #tears of themis luke #luke pearce #tot luke #tears of themis vyn #tears of themis artem #tears of themis marius #luke pearce x reader #royal au #tw passing out #cw passing out #tw assassination #cw assasination

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ryukoishida · 3 years

Text

QianQiu/Thousand Autumns Fic: In which gang leader!YWS and school teacher!SQ falls in love.

Title: You’re a Problem I Encounter Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW eventually Chapter: 1/? Summary: Yan Wushi was the proud leader of Huan Yue Group, one of the most influential syndicates in the underground world, who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. His accidental encounter with the pure-hearted school teacher Shen Qiao was a problem he didn’t expect to get entangled in. A/N: A syndicate!AU that literally nobody asks for. It’s also been awhile since I last wrote a fic, so please excuse awkward/bad writing. Sobs. List of Chapters: [1] [2] [3]

i. First Encounter

“Tie the pretty boy up nice and tight,” Sang Jingxing ordered his subordinates in a lazy drawl, his face half hidden in the shadow of the poorly lit room, but even the darkness couldn’t conceal the cruel smile crawling along the lips of the deputy leader of He Huan Group. As he stepped away from the wall and began walking towards his captive, his grin widening when he saw how much of a mess his men had made of the young man, his foot crushed the discarded glasses that’d been knocked off the man’s face during the brief but vicious fight.

There were no windows, just a lone, bare lightbulb swinging back and forth from the ceiling casting a meager glow of light in the underground chamber.

Glancing down at the half-conscious man bound at the wrists behind his back, Sang Jingxing grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his neck to crane back.

“We don’t want you running back to your daddy so soon again, do we?”

The only response he received was a pained groan. A sound that sent trills of excitement down Sang Jingxing’s back.

It had taken four trained men to finally take Shen Qiao down. By the time the scuffle ended, Xiao Se had an impressive bruise on his right cheek, Yan Shou had bloodied scratches along one of his arms, Huo Xijing had been elbowed directly in the solar plexus and was still recovering on the ground, and Bai Rong was smart enough to retreat just after receiving a blow that barely missed her eyes.

After a valiant attempt at escaping, Shen Qiao was no match for the sheer number of guards Sang Jingxing had assigned to keep him under surveillance in the end.

“At least not before we get what we want, isn’t that right, my dear?” Sang Jingxing turned towards the woman with an overly saccharine smile.

Yuan Xiuxiu rolled her eyes at her partner’s theatrics, but after working and managing He Huan Group together for so many years, she was used to his antics by now, so she merely ran a hand through her wavy hair and replied, “I don’t care what you do with the boy – torture him, fuck him – do whatever you want. Just don’t go overboard. We still need him alive if we were to negotiate with Qi Fengge.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Sang Jingxing said to Yuan Xiuxiu’s retreating back as the leader of He Huan Group slammed the cell door shut behind her without another word.

There were no windows, just a lone, bare lightbulb swinging back and forth from the ceiling casting a meager glow of light in the underground chamber.

“Ah… Shen Qiao. Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it was to steal you away under Qing Fengge’s nose?” he’d released his grip on Shen Qiao’s hair, and his head lolled forward like a broken, ragged doll. Blood streaks on his face made his complexion more pallid, and the only sign that he was still breathing was the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Sang Jingxing continued, circling his captured prey like a hawk. “I get that you’re his adopted son, but you aren’t even meant to be his successor, so why does he spent so much of his resources on protecting you?”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer, but he wanted to have fun with the boy first before he dived straight into business. With a leering, animalistic gleam in his eye, Sang Jingxing reached out towards Shen Qiao’s bruised face, thumb roughly brushing against the man’s lower lip as he tried to force his finger past the seam of his lips.

Though Shen Qiao was in no shape to fight back, he was not a man who surrendered as long as a drop of strength still remained inside him. He twisted away from his captor’s hand and swiftly angled his head to bite Sang Jingxing’s finger with a snarl, hazel eyes bloodshot from what little adrenaline still lingered in his system during the fight.

Sang Jingxing hissed in pain, fury flashing across his eyes as he yanked his hand back, and Shen Qiao felt a sharp blow across his cheek just a short second later. Taste of iron flooded in his mouth.

“Playing hard-to-get is cute the first time around,” Sang Jingxing muttered while inspecting the teeth marks Shen Qiao had inflicted on him, before he put his hand on Shen Qiao once more, “but I don’t have that much patience, even for a beauty like you.”

He wrapped his fingers around Shen Qiao’s neck and started to squeeze with real intent to hurt.

“Yan Wushi, how did you—!” Yuan Xiuxiu’s muffled high-pitched exclaim transmitted through the thin walls of the basement and was interrupted by a distressed scream.

Before Sang Jingxing could react or shout for backup, he heard the men who were stationed outside the cell yelped in surprise and agony, and two successive bodily thuds later, the cell door was busted open.

Two men strode in with confident steps. The one leading had a cold, lethal look to his maroon eyes, the streak of star-silver locks a stark contrast to his otherwise dark, slicked back hair. In between his index and middle fingers was a small silver blade, still dripping with fresh blood of his latest victims; he wiped the blood off with a clean handkerchief that the younger man standing just half a step behind him handed him with the kind of easy elegance that one couldn’t simply mimic.

“Sang Jingxing, has He Huan Group lost so much money these days that you can’t even afford decent guards anymore?” the older man sneered.

“Leader Yan,” the utter of the respectful title was pleasant enough, but they’d been rivals long enough to know that there was no amiability in this exchange, “what’s the meaning of this?”

“I heard you got yourself a new plaything,” Yan Wushi said, glancing over at the barely conscious Shen Qiao with one of his eyebrows raised, “is that him?”

“What is it to you?” Sang Jingxing asked, narrowing his eyes. His flexed his fingers instinctively, his muscles taut and itching to reach for the revolver tucked inside his suit jacket. If anything, at least he was certain that the bullet would find its target faster than Yan Wushi could cause any real damage with his infamous silver blade. It had been awhile since they last confronted each other face to face like this, but Sang Jingxing could never forget the scars and humiliation of defeat from their last meeting.

“Oh, calm down,” Yan Wushi chuckled, the other man’s subtle signs to initiate the first attack all too obvious under his trained observation, “I’m not here to pick a fight, unless you’ve already forgotten what that was like the last time that happened.”

Sang Jingxing pressed his lips tight, silent anger threatening to boil over in the form of whipping out his revolver and pulling the trigger, but he didn’t dare — not when he knew he’d already lost. The fear of losing once again to this man – this monster – was simmering at the back of his mind, and he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to get away with just a long, ugly cut along his back this time.

“That’s what I thought,” the corner of Yan Wushi’s lips curved up slightly into a cold smile, “let’s not waste any time here. I’ll take what I want, and then we’ll each go our separate ways, hmm?”

“Yu Shengyan,” the leader of Huan Yue Group commanded his assistant with a nod towards the bloodied man still tied up in the chair a few steps away from them. Without further instructions, Yu Shengyan quickly ran over to Shen Qiao and started to cut the ropes loose. With practiced swipes of his switchblade, it took him only a short moment before he freed Shen Qiao.

At this point, Shen Qiao had already completely fainted, and when released from his restraints, he fell forward limply into Yu Shengyan’s arms.

“What do you want with Qi Fengge’s kid anyway?” Sang Jingxing asked. Though he’d given up on trying to keep Shen Qiao in his possession, curiosity still got the best of him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Yan Wushi only said with a laugh.

Carrying Shen Qiao on his back, Yu Shengyan followed his master out of the dank basement cell, thrilled that he got to witness Yan Wushi scaring the shit out of Sang Jingxing and his minions, but mostly confused about the purpose of this confrontation. He didn’t know what to expect when Yan Wushi had suddenly ordered him to come to He Huan Group’s headquarters. To be honest, the young assistant had been half-expecting the gang leader to start a bloodshed for one reason or another — after all, it wouldn’t have been the first time Yan Wushi went off the rails due to the most miniscule of reasons — but he’d never thought they’d be rescuing a stranger.

They were rescuing him, right? Yu Shengyan was hesitant as he carefully placed the unconscious man into the back of the car before slipping into the driver’s seat. Glancing over at his master out of the corner of his eye, the young man almost felt sorry for Shen Qiao, for he recognized that particular look on Yan Wushi’s face.

It probably would not bode well for the man still unaware of what he’d gotten himself into by getting accidentally entangled into Yan Wushi’s life.

#qian qiu #thousand autumns #shan he jian xin #yanshen #yan wushi #shen qiao #bowie's crappy writing

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onepiecereactions · 3 years

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Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration, OS

Smoker, Tashigi, Garp, Kizaru OS.

Humour.

Warning vulgarity.

2100 words.

English Version

Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration

Smoker hated coming backfrom a mission. Don't get me wrong, he loves his job! But two things annoyed him the most about these moments.

On the one hand, that meant not going on the sea for at least a few weeks. Indeed, Marineford had established a complex system of turnover of vice-admirals so, with some exceptions, at least 3 vice admirals are always present on the base in case of necessity.

The feeling of freedom, feeling the air on his face, not being locked, that was what made Smoker happy deep inside him. That and the feeling of having helped the citizens and brought some justice back to this damn world, obviously.

On the other hand, returning to base meant a horrible administrative mountain. And just thinking about it, headaches were already migrating through the vice-admiral's head. Luckily, Tashigi was always ready to help him and do some of his duties to let him rest.

So it was with a heavy heart that Smoker set foot on the base for the first time after months of mission. While Tashigi was already rushing into his office with the firm intention of working all night to do her report on time, Smoker was walking mechanically to his private apartments. He threw his dirty jacket on the floor, took a long, hot shower, and get into his bed, already cursing tomorrow's hellish day.

The next morning the vice-admiral woke up in a bad mood. He grabbed his jacket that he had left on the soaked bathroom floor and sighed: it was ruined. As resistant as the clothes made by Marineford are, staying intact when you get cannonballs in your back is complicated. And Smoker, unlike many of the women on the base, hated walking around topless.

So his first resolution of the day was to go find a new jacket. And of course, he was going to ask Tashigi to do it for him. At first, as a man of integrity, Smoker was remorseful about leaving so many of his tasks to his colleague, even if the latter was doing wonderfully. But after several years in Marineford, honestly, now he didn't care.

So he grabbed his den den mushis and called the brunette. After several seconds of waiting, Tashigi did not pick up. Smoker worried, it was very unusual for the young woman who had a reputation for answering even when she was asleep.

He then quickly took two cigars from his desk, threw his dead jacket over his back, and walked quickly to his office.

Misfortune never happening alone, of course, on the way he passed Admiral Kizaru. The latter joined him in his race to his office and took the opportunity to discuss. The Yellow Admiral had the reputation of loving to talk, much to the misfortune of Smoker who loved calm above all else.

"Oh, tell me dear friend, are the holes in the jacket a new fashion? I know that I am no longer very young but still, I don’t understant. Is it to provide a ventilation system? Don't tell me you have a fever my dear friend? Do you want me to call the dear caregivers of the "

Kizaru didn't even have time to finish his monologue when he got the door of Smoker's office in the face. The latter had already crushed his cigars to refrain from hitting the high-ranking officer in the face.

Once he was sure he heard the yellow monkey leave, he got into the chair across from his desk and reached into the second drawer to extract two new cigars.

After a few seconds of enjoying the smoke reaching his lungs, Smoker grabbed the stationary den den mushi of his desk and, as he went to call Tashigi, a note stuck to the back of his device intrigued him.

"Even though I warned you last night, that I sent you an official mail 48 hours before and that I slipped a note under the door of your apartment, I want to remind you, just in case, that I am absent that day until 7:30 p.m. All the captains have a meeting. I wish you a very nice day. Captain TASHIGI. "

Oh shit. For a little Smoker could have cried. It was certainly one of the worst announcements he could receive. No Tashigi. No Tashigi for a whole day! One more day after a mission! All the calls and assignments she receives today will go straight back to him, her boss! In addition to her work he was going to have to do his own! With holes in his jacket.

Smoker decided to go on strike. The schedule for that day was already far too scary to be able to live it. A thousand times he would have preferred to fight against Monkey D Luffy rather than going through it.

He then decided he would do what was necessary. He got up quickly from his seat, crashed out of his office and almost ran towards Building C. It was barely nine in the morning but the Vice Admiral thought he was fainting when he saw the huge queue in front of the door. . Obviously, it was Monday, and those morons in the administrative sector never worked weekends.

He then did like everyone else, walked over to the door to grab a numbered ticket, sat down on one of the few free seats and waited.

To his left was an ordinary soldier, without a shirt and pants, just his underwear. Smoker could smell a familiar scent of magma. Akainu had made his own again during the training of his subordinates.

Smoker looked at his ticket, number 38 and sighed. As he was about to improvise a nap while waiting his turn, his portable den den mushis rang.

"Vice-Admiral Smoker, I'm listening. » He said wearily.

The soldier at the other end of the line looked surprised to find the Vice Admiral and not the Captain. “Captain Tashigi is in a meeting, her calls are being redirected to me. If it's not urgent hang up ". Without further ado, the soldier hung up to the vice-admiral's delight.

1 hour later.

"I swear in front of Gol D Roger that if that damn den den mushi rings one more time I will blow his head against the wall." Grumbled the marine for the third time in a minute.

After an hour of waiting and 15 calls, the Vice Admiral was finally called into the room.

He almost tore his jacket from his back, put it violently on the desk while trying to keep his nerves and glared at the woman in front of him who remained unmoved.

"Vice Admiral Smoker, registration number XXXX, I need a new model 3 series AB size 98 jacket with option 13". Smoker had been clear, to the point, and hardly angry.

The woman, who was well into her fiftieth, looked at him indifferently.

“It doesn't work like that, vice-admiral. She said in a weary voice, as if she was talking to the first moron in the area.

Smoker struggled not to crush his cigars again but revised himself to think it would be difficult to face this without cigars.

"So how do you do in this case?" He asked sharply.

The woman didn't even bother to answer him, she just gave him a form. Smoker thought it was a big joke when he found himself with a five-page double-sided document in his hands.

" Are you kinding me ? Five fucking pages for a fucking jacket? Can't you just write 22 fucking words on a fucking post it note and talk about it? Bellowed the Vice Admiral who was already starting to turn to smoke in annoyance.

"Blblblbl, blblblbl, blbllb" The den den mushi began to ring, straining Smoker's last strength to stay calm.

" It's not my fault ". The woman began in a slow, boring voice.

Blblblbl, blbllblb, blbllb

"If you are too stupid"

Blblblb, blblbl, blbllb

"To complete a simple form"

Blblbllbbl, blblbl

"That even Kizaru gets to"

Blblbl, SCRATCH.

The vice-admiral's den den mushi flew across the room, finishing its course into the wall.

To the slow voice of the woman was added the tears of the den den mushi.

"FUCK OF," Smoker yelled as he stormed out of the room to make sure his fist didn't end up in the woman's face. He went out like a madman and locked himself in his office to try to find calm and serenity.

He grabbed a third cigar and after about ten minutes of relaxation began to fill out the damn form. He was only halfway through when the door to his office slammed open, knocking out the lustrous wood that had already received quite a few knocks.

"Ah my dear friend, I went to the infirmary and got you some medicine to lower your temperature. But beware, this is a suppository! ".

Smoker felt his heart stop beating when he saw the yellow admiral's face in front of his nose.

Blblblb, blbllb

"Oh my dear friend I think someone is trying to reach you on your stationary den den mushi. "

Blblblb, blbllb

"Maybe you should answer, maybe it's urgent, don't you think? "

Blblblbl, blbllb

Smoker had a vision. The den den mushi stuck, smeared with haki, right in the middle of the admiral's face, his nose bleeding.

It took phenomenal self-control for the vice-admiral not to reproduce his impulses. For the second time, he chooses to escape.

He took a pen with him to finish filling out the damn file that had become completely unreadable so much he had massacred it.

He found himself in front of the lingerie door, walked past all the soldiers and walked into the office. He barely had time to put a foot inside when he felt a stapler cross his face with its smoke.

"I DON'T THINK I CALLED YOUR NUMBER!" Yelled the woman who had "briefed" him earlier.

Smoker crushed the doorknob but stayed calm. He turned around, took a ticket from the machine, and sat down in the only seat available: the one next to Vice-Admiral Garp. "

Smoker sighed and prayed to all the gods that this old fool would leave him in peace.

So he settled down next to him and inspected him discreetly. He then realized that the old man's uniform was impeccably worn if the traces of grease were omitted from his shirt from all the donuts he had. But the Marineford hero wasn’t wearing socks.

"Don't ask questions kid." The grandfather simply told him when he met Smoker's gaze.

"Hey Smoker, I heard you're after my grandson. Did you know that when he was young he used to have fun sticking his finger up his nose to eat his boogers? Except that this stupid pirate, as he is elastic, he always ended up bleeding from the nose. Suddenly he would start screaming and running in all directions. Most of the time he would smash into a tree or a wall and fall apart, by the time the bleeding ended. Did you also know he got clean very late? I had to buy him pyjamas with an opening pocket on the buttocks because he never managed to undo his buttons and ended up pooping on himself? Ah and also the time when ”.

Smoker wanted to: die.

Blblblb, blbllbl

A mirage ? a hallucination?

"Vice-Admiral Garp, I'm listening. Ah hi Sengoku, how are you? A fishing trip? Now ? Ah I'm coming. By the way, don't you have pairs of socks to lend me? »And so the Vice Admiral disappeared through the maze of hallways, much to Smoker's delight.

It took no less than forty-five additional minutes of waiting for Smoker to finally put the damn file in the damn good drawer which, by chance again, was in building A and, as it happened, no administrative soldier was available to take the paper which he therefore had to deposit himself.

The same day, at 10 p.m.

"A call for you Vice Admiral Smoker." The bartender handed the den den mushi to the vice-admiral, who took a last sip of sake before answering.

"Good evening Vice-Admiral, I hope you had a good day! » Tashigi began. "I was wondering why you weren't answering den den mushi... I received an official document for you. It involves a fine for "disrespecting an administrative colleague" as well as a two-week ban from returning to the lingerie office. Is everything okay ”.

"I STILL PREFER TO WALK NAKED THAN TO RETURN TO THIS OFFICE".

#one piece #vice admiral smoker #monkey d garp #tashigi #Kizaru

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

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Everything I Wanted (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,700 + Warning: Adult language, adult situations Premise: After all this time, her social media posts have a way of captivating him...until he turns the tables on her. Part 3 of Lovely and Ocean Eyes.

________________ Ethan walked down the corridor on a seemingly normal workday, far too aware that his steps were lighter and the smile he fought so hard to conceal made its appearance more often than not. For the sake of his reputation, he schooled his features into his usual unwelcoming and severe expression, though part of him worried that he was fooling exactly no one.

Perhaps his face betrayed the way his pulse picked up pleasantly at the memory of the shy smile she offered him every time they crossed paths. The simple gesture was enough to brighten his mood, no matter how stressful his day. Somewhere down the line, Ethan had surrendered to the effortless way Dr. Lilac Allende drove him to distraction.

His good mood quickly soured, however, when he walked past the locker room on the third floor. Typically, he studiously blocked out all the mindless conversations that drifted out into the hall, but a particular name caught his ear.

“Damn,” a tall, burly intern was saying as he glanced at his phone. “I knew Dr. Allende was hot but.. just wow.”

His friend closed the locker door and walked over to glance at the screen, nodding in approval. “What's her deal? She single?”

The first intern scoffed, almost derisively. “Thinking of asking her out, Reyes?”

Reyes looked unabashed, maintaining an easy grin that was almost arrogant. It made Ethan want to punch it right off his face. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Is she still with Lahela? They were a thing a while back, I think?”

Ethan had the mad urge to step in and correct the false statement, but he abstained. The two morons before him had no right to Lilac's personal life.

Reyes stared at the phone screen again and gave a low whistle. “Her Pictagram is a work of art. The things I'd do–”

“The things you're going to do, Dr. Reyes, are your actual job duties,” Ethan said through girt teeth, stepping into the room.

Perhaps it was his sudden appearance or the downright murderous glare the older doctor was sending their way, but the pair of interns fumbled, the first one almost dropping the phone. By the time they straightened up to face Ethan, they looked far too rigid, uncomfortable, and downright terrified. The verbal lashing he unleashed on them was one for the books. In the end, there was no trace of arrogant smirks as both interns walked away, pale and with the extra workload Ethan assigned.

Finally alone, he exhaled a sharp, steadying breath. At least there were a few guarantees in life, even if things had changed: he could still reduce grown men to tears and these damn interns were going to drive him to an early grave.

Considerably calmer, Ethan produced his phone from his pocket and opened the too familiar Pictagram page. One glance at her latest picture and the two idiots' reactions made sense, even if they were still not justified.

Fucking hell.

Just like his moronic predecessors, Ethan almost dropped his phone, stifling a cough. Any trace of gentlemanly thoughts vanished as his eyes took in her bare shoulder, exposed so intentionally and coyly. All he could think about was running his lips along the curve of it, his fingers slowly tugging the black robe lower until it pooled on his floor.

Before his primal mind could add his teeth and the moans she'd reward him with to this fantasy, his eyes fell on the caption.

Stay?

Ethan could hardly fight back the grin the single word inspired. The previous morning, as she had stopped by his office to use his coffee machine, he pointed out how useless Pictagram was. Lilac was quick to remind him that he seemed to be enjoying it, referencing the reaction he'd had to her previous posts. Determined to save face, Ethan had blurted that he might even delete his account.

A smug smile over her shoulder had been her reply along with a sultry promise. “I bet I can make you change your mind.”

She had accomplished just that along with taking root in his every thought. The need to see her became so acute, that he sought her out in every hallway he turned into. Finally, he found her in one of the break rooms, laughing and chatting with her intern, Dr. Ortega.

“This coffee machine is the worst,” he heard Ortega complain. She rattled the cup as though the action would force it to hurry. “I can't believe I'm going to be late because of shit coffee.”

Lilac laughed. “Shit coffee is better than no coffee.”

“Spoken like someone who has a mysterious coffee source.”

With another laugh, Lilac mimed zipping her lips shut. Dr. Ortega snorted with laughter, which was a rare enough sight.

“At least rounds are not with Dr. Ramsey this morning,” Ortega continued as she sniffed disapprovingly at her cup. “I'd be dead meat for being even two minutes behind.”

“And that's considering the guy's mellowed out in the past few months,” a nurse chimed in from his place at the loveseat. “He was far grumpier before. Something or someone is putting that man in a good mood every night.”

Ethan felt his neck flare up, his eyes solely on Lilac, looking as lovely as ever and utterly unfazed.

“That poor soul,” Lilac commented so convincingly, Ethan almost believed it. “Whoever that is.”

The nurse had no reaction, invested in his newspaper as he was and Ortega threw a hesitant smile at Lilac.

“I always kind of thought you two had a thing,” she confessed.

Lilac did not even react, taking a sip of her to-go cup. “Because I'm his so-called favorite?” When Esme nodded, Lilac shrugged. “Being on his radar comes with its cons.”

At this, Ortega nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he's harder on you, for sure.”

That was his cue. With absolutely no preamble, he marched into the breakroom, startling the three occupants with his mere presence.

“Allende, if you are done with your morning gossip session, I'd appreciate you getting me those labs I asked for.”

Lilac pushed herself off the counter at once. “Yes, doctor.”

They stared at one another, neither betraying a single emotion.

“Now. It's not like lives depend on it or anything.”

Ortega shot Lilac a sympathetic look, no doubt reconsidering her previous thoughts of their involvement. Without another word, Lilac followed Ethan out of the break room. Once they were alone in a deserted hallway, Lilac raised a brow at him.

“You didn't ask for any labs,” she said at the same time Ethan blurted out, “'That poor soul'?”

Lilac laughed and he joined her with a chuckle soon after, their bodies comfortably gravitating closer to each other. His hands throbbed with the raw, poignant need to touch her and the blinding disappointment of being unable to. The way Ethan longingly looked at her then, drinking in every one of her beautiful features, he imagined he looked like some yearning nineteenth century gentleman straight out of an Austen novel.

“Mine was more believable,” she pointed out, that witty, playful challenge in her eyes. An Elizabeth Bennet to his hopeless and bewitched Darcy.

“Not remotely,” he returned without missing a beat. “No one would deem the person having sex with me every night as 'poor.'”

“They would when said person could barely walk the next day.”

That made Ethan pause, the bravado slipping as his eyes fell on her rosy lips. His breath caught audibly at his throat.

They were standing so close together now, eyes locked on each other with palpable magnetism. If anyone walked by they would be found out without a doubt. Even more so if Ethan gave into the burning urge to kiss her right there and then.

Lilac gave him a coquettish smirk. “Did you like my post?”

Ethan found his voice again. “It was…”

There was no appropriate word to describe the delicious, sinful perfection of it.

“Nice?” she teased.

“Dr. Reyes and his idiot friend definitely thought so.”

Lilac snorted. “That explains the DM that sits unopened in my inbox. Jealous?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Good. They're not the ones who have me in their bed every night.”

Ethan almost stuttered like an imbecile. He fought back all indecent thoughts and returned, “You forget I have you against multiple different surfaces, Rookie.”

She paused briefly, eyes dark as they traveled down his body and back to his eyes again.

Fuck, she had him. He knew the look too well.

“Or against no surface at all, as you proved on your birthday.”

Ethan cursed.

Everything in her expression suggested that she fancied herself the victor of their Pictagram debate. Matching her smug smirk with a dashing smile of his own, he decided then to give her a taste of her own medicine.

________________________

Ethan, ever the prophet, had predicted the board meeting they were both required to attend would be pointless.

He had been right, of course. They both sat in the boardroom forty minutes into it, listening to Dr. Cyrus drone on endlessly about something that had little to do with patient care. Listening was a generous term because Lilac remained focused on her laptop, diligently updating patient files. Ethan, sitting across from her, was doing much of the same, the glare of his screen reflecting on his glasses.

Soon, the buzzing of her phone on the table pulled her away from her concentration. Her heart leaped when she saw it was a notification alerting to his latest Pictagram post. Confused, Lilac glanced up at him but he was too invested in his work to notice.

After ensuring no one was paying her any mind, she opened the app and regretted it at once.

One quick glance at artfully sculpted muscles and Lilac was reduced to a coughing mess. Dr. Cyrus stopped mid sentence to glare at her. Everyone else in the room followed suit to stare.

“Dr. Allende, are you alright?” Naveen asked with concern.

Ethan wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, his lips quirking ever so slightly, his fingers brushing hers. After a quick sip, she mumbled, “I'm fine. Sorry.”

Convinced, they resumed the meeting.

Lilac, meanwhile, attempted to catch Ethan's eye to throw him a glare, but he remained laser focused on his screen. Having no other alternative, she returned her attention to the picture. Soon, she was texting him.

Your one follower approves.

Her phone dinged almost immediately after with his reply. Her pulse spiked with excitement, which was ridiculous because she slept with the man every day.

I am aware. We all saw.

Cheeky bastard.

That was a low blow, Ramsey. And with a picture I took too.

He almost smiled when he read that.

Pay attention, Rookie.

She bit her lip, glancing up at him. Ethan was the perfect picture of professionalism, his stoic expression betraying nothing as he worked. Her eyes returned to the picture, her cheeks flushing.

Oh, I am.

To the meeting.

Oh. Dr. Cyrus has my undivided but unwilling attention.

Liar, he returned at once. For a man who claimed to hate texting, he was a master at sending them without anyone's notice.

I can tell because you actually look interested in what you're doing.

Lilac almost laughed out loud at that. She quickly turned her head away from the front of the table to avoid suspicion.

I am studiously taking notes.

Unless you're jotting down all of Cyrus's brown-nosing remarks to Naveen, I highly doubt that.

This time, a small squeak of laughter escaped her. Luckily for her, she was able to mask it perfectly with a dainty cough. No one at the table gave her a second glance, except for Ethan. Handsome as ever, his mouth quirked ever so slightly.

I don't need to take notes on that, she replied. I already know how to get on my boss's good side.

She watched as Ethan imperceptibly read her text, having no visible reaction.

Time to go in for the kill.

And the best side to get on is under him.

This time, it was Ethan who sputtered slightly and coughed. A furious blush started to color his neck and ears in a way that was entirely too satisfying. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't finished yet.

Although he actually enjoys me on top of him too.

Those piercing blue eyes found hers instantly, so dark and smoldering that she was struck motionless for a second. A familiar, molten heat pooled in her belly as Ethan's lustful gaze remained on her, unwavering. The longer they stared at each other, magnetized, the more evident it became that he would take her right there and then if it weren't for the company surrounding them.

When the meeting was adjourned for a break twenty minutes later, Lilac was assured that her texts had the intended effect. The tall, hard body of her boyfriend pressed hers flush against the door of his office the second it closed. A second after that, his full lips hungrily kissed her neck, his powerful hands gripping handfuls of her hips.

“You're determined to kill me,” he muttered darkly against her skin.

“But what a way to go,” she said in a whisper that gave way to a moan at the last word.

He agreed in the form of a husky groan that resonated deliciously against her throat. With almost lazy effort, he turned her body to face the door, strong hands guiding her backside to press urgently against him.

“The way you tease me, Lilac,” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending a powerful shiver through her. His hips began guiding her toward the nearest table with ease, his fingers slowly skimming their way up her thighs and under her skirt.

“You like it,” she challenged breathlessly.

Ethan hummed against her shoulder, pulling her blouse down in a perfect rendition of her post.

“It's torture.” Another searing kiss. “Seeing the way you look at me and not being able to take you against the nearest wall.”

Lilac had a witty response ready, but at that exact moment, his thumbs hooked around the lacy fabric of her underwear.

“Are these for me?” His voice was nothing more than gravel. Lilac's legs quivered, every sense proudly dominated by him.

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes fluttering closed in a heady rush. He had her bent over the table, her skirt bunching to indecent heights around her thighs.

Without another word, he removed the garment skillfully, sliding it slowly down her legs and bunching it in his fist. Lilac pressed herself further against him, aching painfully for him.

“Use them to tie me up,” she suggested in a ragged whisper.

Ethan cursed.

His hips jerked against hers, sliding the thick, hard column of his body against her. Lilac was so overcome with maddening need that her arms almost gave out from balancing her on the table.

She never found out if Ethan was delirious enough to take her whispered advice because both of their pagers went off with infuriating insistence.

“The meeting from hell that never ends,” he groaned. “Break is over.”

Lilac straightened against his chest, smirking when he made no movement to let her go. “To be continued?”

Ethan leaned in to kiss her neck. “Your bed or mine?”

Lilac swiveled in his hold, facing him with a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Doesn't matter as long as it's you next to me.”

He matched her smile with an unfairly charming one of his own.

Though they were needed at the Board meeting, they stole another minute together in each other's arms. Lilac studied his handsome face briefly, feeling her heart restart as it often did when she realized he was finally hers. Perhaps he was hers in secret for the time being but he was hers nonetheless. The thought that after all the strife and hardship, she still found herself where she belonged, in his arms, made her smile grow wider.

“What?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I love you,” she told him, not for the first time.

It was his turn to give her a smile so incandescent that it stole her breath. “That's a relief,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Given that I am madly and desperately in love with you, Rookie.”

_____________

Author’s Note: Are we okay after those two new OH chapters?

I’m not! I have some ideas for future fics but we’ll see if the writing gods are in my favor.

Thank you for reading this senselessness. I love you for it.

-Bree

_______________

Please let me know if I need to add/remove you. You might have asked me already but I can barely keep track of my life atm. Sorry!

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite | @angela8756

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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levis-hazelnut · 3 years

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Summary: when you and your best friend, Hanji, were younger, you had made up stories about your dream guys - what they would look like and how you would meet. What happens when the one you had made up appears to be real?

Warning(s): I don’t think there are any in this chapter. But, please do tell me if there are any.

Taglist (closed!): @castellandiangelo

Status: completed!

part 3 > part 4 > part 5

series masterlist

My elbow was propped up on the table with my head in my palm as I flicked around the fruit in my bowl with a fork. I was home alone since Hanji went out somewhere and I had nothing to do. Yeah, the weather was pleasant but I didn't feel like going out even though it's a Saturday. I just wanted to roll myself into a ball in a corner and slowly die. What's the reason for my misery? Well, you probably don't even care, but I'll tell you anyway. So, you know how I told Petra that she can take away my Levi, yes, he's my Levi. Whatever. So, of course, since I'm such a great friend, I started to try and get them to hang out more and more, while I tried to fight away my feelings. The feelings that try and consume me every time I see that stupidly sexy face of his.

Before I start fantasising about him, I'll carry on... So, they seem to get along well since Levi prefers normal people, unlike myself and my other friends. He still hangs out with me, but just not as much as before and I truly think he's catching feelings for her. Oh, I should also mention that this has been going on for three months so it's definitely possible for that to happen. Like I basically fell in love with him as soon as I saw him. Well, who cares about me and my feelings? I know Levi doesn't (well, he tries to care for me but I push him away as the idiot I am).

And that's essentially the reason why I want to die in a corner. They both better thank me when they get together otherwise I will straight up trash every single one of their dates. I'm an idiot. I'm stupid. I'm a poor excuse of-- "You aren't an idiot, you're a weirdo. Don't forget that." Tch. His dumb voice is trying to slither into my brain. Can't I at least finish my self-loathe session? So inconsiderate. "Ugh, why am I annoyed at him for something I caused? I'm truly a horrible being," I muttered to no one in particular before groaning when I reached for my phone that buzzed in my ears. "What?" I spat when I answered, not even reading the caller ID. "Good afternoon to you, too, darlin'. What's wrong with you?" Oh, it's my favourite person ever... "What do you want, Ackerman?" I asked with a bitter tone. "First of all, I want an explanation." "For what?" "Why are you acting like this? You've been moping around for the past couple of fucking months. What's going on?" "... Nothing. What's the other thing you want?" "I haven't gotten an explanation yet." "Levi, please, just forget about it." My tone showed that I just wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible. I heard a sigh before hushed words sounded. "(Y/N), I'm going to come to your apartment and hold you at gunpoint if you don't tell me." "Sure, do whatever, but I'm still not going to tell you." "You're fucking crazy." Yeah, I know. That's why you prefer Petra over me, I thought. "I know. Can you leave me alone now?" "... The other thing I wanted to ask is if I could come over later." "Why? Are you actually going to hold me at gunpoint?" I asked sarcastically. Another sigh sounded. "We've barely hung out recently and it sounds like you're going to start crying any moment, so I'll come and keep you company. Also, we have that assignment to do." Why do you have to be such a softy? Just when I was getting annoyed with you, you decide to be a Prince Charming. "Fine. What time are you coming?" "Is three fine?" I glanced at the time and saw that it was already two o'clock. "Yep. I'll see you later." "Bye." ~/~ Levi and I sat at the small, round dining table with both of our laptops open as we worked on the assignment together. We let Lo-Fi play quietly as background noise and we often spoke - either to distract ourselves from the boring shit we were doing, or to help each other. As he said, Levi had a come a few minutes before three o'clock and after trying to get me to tell what happened, he decided it was futile and suggested we start working. Since I had nothing else to do apart from dying, I agreed.

As he cleared the table and put his things on the surface, I got whatever snacks we had and placed them in the middle of the table. I also made Levi a tea and myself - a coffee before we sat down and started. I wasn't really in the mood for anyone. I didn't even want Levi to be here when he first arrived, but now I don't mind since he gives me good company. After about an hour, Levi suddenly decided to get up so I averted my eyes from the laptop screen to question what was wrong.

And his answer?

Girl, get ready for this. You're going to burst into tears for me. "... I'm going on a date with Petra." There it is. The reason why I wanted to just breakdown and die in a hole. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Levi is going on a fucking date with Petra. Those words kept on repeating in my mind like some kind of incantation as he packed his things away and slipped his jacket on before grabbing his phone. Soon, I knocked out of my trance and looked up at him before standing up. "... Petra?" "I asked her out yesterday." "You did?" I squeaked out, assuming that Petra would have been the one to ask him out. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll see you on Monday." "Okay. Bye." Being a good host, I walked him to the door and waited for him to put his shoes on before closing the door once he left. (Y/N), don't cry. Don't cry. Do not cry. He's just a boy... A boy that's a damn Adonis, and has hair I want to tangle my fingers in, and eyes I could stare into all day, and a nose that's just so boopable, and a jaw that could slice me, and lips that I wish I could feel on mine, and a body that looks better than any athlete... Yeah, he's just a boy... that I'm going to fall in love with. Hey, does anyone know a good suicide method that leads to certain death? No? Okay. ~/~ "(Y/N)? Are you home?" "... Yes," I muttered as I laid on the soft carpet in the living room with my cheek pressed against it. "Why are you... on the floor?" Hanji inquired with clear confusion written on her face. "I need help: I want to cry, but my eyes won't even fucking water. I want to die, but I still have a long life ahead of me. I want to sleep, but I'm not even tired. I want to--" "Okay, okay. What's going on?" my bestie questioned and crouched down. "Why are you like this?" I turned my face so it could hide in the carpet. I don't care if I would get spots from stuffing my face in it, I just needed something to comfort me and this was my solution. "Levi and Petra are going on a date today," I spoke into the material and I could almost imagine Hanji's shocked face. You see, I never told her about my stupid promise. "Sorry?" "Levi, aka the love of my life, asked Petra out yesterday.." "Oh, (Y/N)..." I could hear the pity in her voice. "How did this happen?" "Because of my dumb ass." I explained the rest of the story to Hanji, though my words were muffled since I was still giving mouth to mouth resuscitation to the rug. But I know she heard every single word I said. "You know I would never say this to you, but you're a fucking idiot." "Yeah, I know." "You aren't an idiot, you're a weirdo. Don't forget that." "Tch. I can't even stop thinking about him and his shitty words," I mumbled, making sure that my words were inaudible to Hanji since she would ask what I was going on about. "You should've asked him out." "But that would've looked bad after I told Petra I'd help her." "Well, I don't know why you didn't ask him out before. It's already been five months since he first came, and you haven't done anything." "The first month, Eren didn't let me. And the second month is when Petra asked me to help her, so I couldn't do anything for the other three months." "Okay... Petra is a sweet girl with a kind heart, and she deserves someone to make her happy. But, you've basically been married to him since you were thirteen, or however old we were when we made him up. You can't let others take him away from you. I'm sorry, (Y/N), but you truly are an idiot." "I understand that, Hanji. Don't make me hate myself more than I already do." "So, what do you plan to do now?" "I don't know," I sighed before finally sitting up, cross-legged on the floor. "I can't really do anything about it... Hanji, what if they end up getting married?" "... It's only one date. And it may lead to many others, but we never know if they'll get that far." I huffed once again and stared at the ground. Tears still wouldn't fall. And a couple of hours later, I found the kind of comfort I needed. I didn't need words, I just needed warmth in the arms of someone that cares about me and loves me. My face was buried in the crook of Eren's neck as his arms tightened around my form as we laid down on the sofa. I rested on top of him as he tucked my head under his chin and fiddled with my hair.

No words were spoken, none were needed. And he knew that whenever I felt better, I would tell him what happened. But, for now, he would hold me and comfort me. I seriously don't know what I would do without him. He's always been there for me (if Hanji was unable to) and he always manages to get me back to my normal self. But who knows if it will work this time? We stayed in that position for maybe just less than an hour before I sat up and drifted my fingers through my hair with a heavy sigh. Eren also sat up and I could see him looking at me from my peripheral vision, so I turned to face him. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" "... Yeah...” I sighed before explaining everything to him. "... Oh," was all that came out of his mouth before he embraced me once more. "What do I do?" I whispered, and anyone would be able to hear the obvious pain in my voice. "I'm sorry, but I don't know, (Y/N). Just distract yourself. Moping around won't do anything." "I know. But I don't even feel like going anywhere. Or doing anything." "Come on. Don't just dwell on it, do something to take it off your mind. Have a shower, or sleep, or anything to help you." "Hanji's in the shower. I'm not tired. I don't know what else I could do." "(Y/N), I don't like seeing you like this," Eren muttered and gripped my shoulders to pull me away from the embrace. "It's one guy--" "Yeah, one guy that happened to be someone me and Hanji made up. And he happened to like someone else." "Well, why did you make up someone so attractive?" "Eren, this is not my fault, so shut up. How the hell was I supposed to know that he was going to be real?" He bit back a chuckle. "Sorry." "... Please tell me what's so funny?" "You're just adorable when you're angry. Well, when you aren't angry with me." I huffed and flopped back against the cushion of the sofa, hoping it could suck me in. ~/~ On the way to university, I stopped by my favourite cafe and grabbed a coffee before continuing my journey. Wondering why I'm not rushing or tired? Well, that's because my first lecture is at two o'clock so I had the right amount of sleep, and didn't have to force myself to get out of bed or rush. However, I wasn't looking forward to going since two people are going to be there, and I don't feel interacting with them. If you haven't guessed who I'm talking about, the two people are Levi and Petra. As I wandered through the building to get to the lecture hall, I spotted Petra talking to Historia and decided to walk in a different direction. When I turned around, taking a sip of my coffee, I bumped into someone which caused me to choke on the beverage. I patted my chest as I coughed before silencing and looking at the person I accidentally collided against. Of all people... "Hey, darlin'." "You sure you still want to call me that now even though you have a girlfriend?" I muttered and he lifted an eyebrow my way. "Why do you look so confused? Have you already forgotten about Petra?" "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. You're still in a bad mood?" "Yeah, I am. And don't even think about questioning me about it. I have a lecture to go to." "Hold up." He took hold of my forearm and I tried yanking myself out of his grip but it was futile. His grip was strong, but it wasn't painful. "We still have five minutes until we have to be there." "... So? Don't you think I should be early for once?" "Fine. But let's walk together--" "Levi!" Oh, I knew exactly whose voice that belonged to. Why am I annoyed at her? She didn't do anything wrong. I need to stop blaming others for the things I caused. "Hi, Levi!" Petra beamed and she pecked his cheek as I slowly felt the raven's grip on me loosen, allowing me to free myself. "Hi, (Y/N)." "Hey," I smiled. Damn, my smile was more fake than propaganda. "I heard you went on a date with Levi. How was it?" I asked, shooting a glance to the male to see that his eyes were on me. "I'm going to borrow your girlfriend for a second." "Sure," he replied as Petra walked beside me, going through random corridors as we spoke. "So, where did you go?" "Well, we went to the cinema first, and then, a small restaurant." "Did he initiate anything?" I smirked, trying to be a teenager that loves gossip. "Um... He gave me a small kiss on the lips when he dropped me home. It was very brief though, almost like a peck." "That's great! That obviously means he had a great time. Did you have fun?" "Yes. Thank you so much, (Y/N). I owe you so much." "Oh, no, it's fine. It's just a favour for an awesome friend." She smiled at me as we made our way back to Levi, finding him standing in the exact same spot. He noticed the smile on my lips but didn't say anything when Petra told him that she has to head to her next lecture. She waved at both of us as I started walking. "(Y/N)?" "What?" I said with exasperation. "Where's that smile gone?" "Levi," I started and turned around to face him. "You don't understand how much I'm trying to stay calm right now. But if you ask me one more question, you'll regret it. All you need to know is that I'm going through something and I don't want to talk about it at all." He simply sighed and nodded as we proceeded to go to our lecture in silence. When I walked in after Levi, I felt someone tousle my hair so I turned around to see Jean, who winked at me. Oh, yeah, I also didn't speak to Jean about getting over me and whatever-whatever. I'm only human, okay? I can't deal with so many things when I have so much on my mind. "Hey, babe." "I already told you not to call me that millions of times." "What's wrong with you?" 3... 2... 1... and... "I've had enough of this... Everyone can just take their fucking noses out of my fucking business! It has nothing to do with you and I have no intention of sharing it with you! Just leave me alone, you fucking assholes!" There it is. The eruption. I barged past Jean and stormed down the corridor as I heard Levi and Jean call me. For fuck's sake. What part of my outburst did they not understand? I do not wish to talk about it and I don't want them commenting on my mood. Just let me be. I slammed the door of the bathroom open, frightening someone I paid no attention to as I leaned against the wall of the bathroom and gazed at the floor. I didn't care about hygiene right now, I just needed some space. "(Y/N)?" I guess I won't be having that, I thought before I looked up to find Hanji there. Gosh, I was so grateful to see her, so I threw myself at her. "What happened? Don't you have a lecture right now?" "Yeah, I do. But people are just pissing me off," I spoke into her chest and I felt her hand pat my back. I parted from the hug and she looked at me questioningly. So, obviously I told her what happened earlier. It wasn't anything big, but I just needed to vent. "(Y/N), you've looked so hurt the past couple of days, or even the past couple of months, and I hate to see you like this. You either cut off ties with both of them or try and keep your feelings away." "I can't do either of those." "Then, you won't be able to fix yourself. Get over the fact that Levi has a potential girlfriend, who is not you. We never know what's in the future so suck it up and be a man,” she said. I fought back a smile that tried to etch onto my lips before giving up and letting it spread across my face. Hanji grinned because she saw I was in a better mood. "Now, get back to your lecture. Who's your professor for this lecture?" "Mike." "Oh, he won't care if you walk in late. Go." I was about to leave, but I looked back and gave Hanji another smile. "Thank you, Hanji." "No problem!" I entered the lecture hall, avoiding the stares from Jean and Levi as I went to sit next to Historia, who grinned up at me. I gave a smile in return and paid attention to the lecture straight away, not wanting any distractions. I kept any negative thoughts out of my mind and focused on my education. Both males that I shouted at didn't try to speak to me for the rest of the day and I was glad about that because when I shouted at them earlier, that was just me getting a little angry. So, if they attempted to talk to me, I would literally explode and say things that shouldn't be repeated. Now, I was at home with Hanji, talking about crap I was barely paying attention to. "(Y/N)...? (Y/N)?" the brunette called. "(Y/N)!" "Hm...? Oh, sorry." "What's up?" "... I kind of feel bad for shouting at Jean and Levi when they were simply caring for me. But, I'm also still pissed at them for nagging me. And I'm not over the fact that Levi and Petra are dating. Also, I haven't spoken to Jean about the whole moving on thing--" "Stop. You need to forget about everything, it's affecting your mood and your thoughts, and you barely concentrate on anything. If you keep this going, you're only going to get worse." "Hanji... I'm trying. No matter what I'm doing, these thoughts always consume me." "Well, talk to Jean. At least you'll have one less thing to fret about." "Uh, I think I'll wait for him to talk to me because I can't just bring it up out of nowhere after shouting at him." "Okay. Also, just apologise to both of them. Then, all that's going to be on your mind is Levi and Petra," she smiled before her expression contorted into something that seemed as if she was deep in her thoughts. "However, that's the biggest of your problems," she muttered and tapped her chin with an index finger as she stared at the ceiling. "I'll do the other two things, and try and do something about the Levi and Petra thing... Of course, I'm not going to break them up or anything," I quickly added when her eyes slightly widened. "I guess I'm just going to be happy for them, and then be even happier if they ever break up. I sound like such a bitch, but I can't help it." "Be whatever you want, just don't be an idiot and get yourself into another mess like this again." "No promises~" I sang with a smirk. So far, ever since Levi appeared, my life has been nothing but a mess. I don't know if that will ever change, but hey, I can only hope for the best.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #x reader #reader insert #anime #dream guy #modern au #series #what's a fic without a lil angst?

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