#sounded like the driver helping them get their story straight/take their mind off it

[vimbry]

it's sad how many reviews and stuff around tmbg seem to centre linnell as the sole dark and creepy writer of the band, never really crediting flansburgh too. do "hide away folk family," "dirt bike," "rabid child," "black ops," "cloisonné" mean nothing to them, smh.

#tmbg #this rigid dichotomy they tend to get forced into even tho linnell has written some happier songs and flansburgh plenty horrific ones #I'll be honest tho. I fully went into tmbw-interp-tab conspiracy when I first heard ''sleeping in the flowers'' lmao #I thought that song was about somebody getting murdered #the title seemed like a euphemism to me #it's actually. according to flansburgh. just about getting high in central park #and it's inspired by itchycoo park by the small faces which I knew and loved before and it's GREAT go listen to that. it's '60s psychedelia #so the lyrics are prob fantasising about spending time with the crush and essentially playfully talking sweet nothings together #bc they're stoned and in love #but honestly I thought ''you proclaim that you're an island. I proclaim that I'm one too'' #''I declare that I am england. you declare that I have drowned'' #sounded to me like someone trying to get away and be alone but the other person not getting the hint #esp bc the narrator introduces themself as not wanting to be ''known as the creep'' #the part about getting a ride home with a drunk guy ''who showed me how to spin my head round and round'' #sounded like the driver helping them get their story straight/take their mind off it #and the narrator feels they came across as ungrateful about their advice in their shocked state #plus the way the instrumental between the verses and chorus changes from fuzzy and gritty to lighthearted brass #like it's catching you off-guard #but it's not about any of that it's about being high #anyway none of that is an example of a genuinely creepy flansburgh song but

[charlie-lec-stories]

Out the comfort zone // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Sensitive matters should always be addressed with kindness, tactfulness and pinch of fun.

Warnings: Sexual comments and conversations, but from a mature and funny perspective.

Author’s Note: This story is about communication. Since our favourite trio relays a lot on it, this time you'll have the chance to witness them discuss a really sensitive matter on their relationship. Rate: +18 (Sexual topics)

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"No, no, no, no, no, no. This is not working, Max".

"Maybe if you move your leg to the left, Schat".

"What do you think I am, a gymnast?".

"Well, you are pretty flexible, Amour. Just open your legs wider. I can go behind you".

"This is getting kind of personal, guys, I don't think I want to be a part of this anymore".

"Oscar, don't be a baby".

"He is a baby, Amour".

"I'm 23!".

Lando, George and Alex couldn't believe what they were hearing. It wasn't enough for them to do the dirty together, they also had to mix Oscar into it. As the three of them walked further into the apartment, they found Oscar's hoodie on the floor, and the sound of Max grunting wasn't helping with the picture they were already making in their minds.

"I swear to God, I'm not that flexible. I mean, when it’s just us three, it's easier, but I think that four is just too much. Sorry Oscar, it’s not your fault".

"Way to make a man feel rejected...".

"I really am sorry. But if we keep going like this, I'm going to fall and my ass is going to hurt for days'.

Okay, maybe they should make their presence known. Looking at each other, George understood that he should be the one taking the lead.

"Hey guys, are you home?". He asked, but Lando just couldn't keep quiet.

"Please, tell me you haven't corrupted my teammate yet. He's just a baby!".

Walking into the living room, the three drivers were surprised by what they found. Tangled in a Twister mat, the other four were barely keeping their bodies up. Actually, Y/N was the first one to give up, falling butt first to the floor and taking Oscar down with her, who kicked Charles' right arm, making the monegasque lose balance and take down Max with him.

"Why is it that I can never guess it right when it comes to you three?". Lando asked, rhetorically. Every time he guessed they were doing nothing, he walked on them taking their clothes off, and every time he thought that they were having a private moment, they were just doing something completely innocent.

"Maybe you just think it too much". Max replied, smirking at the disgusted face Lando made. Oscar, Charles and Max got up, Y/N staying laying on the floor, legs and arms extended and exhausted look on her face. Everyone looked at her, expecting her to get up.

"Don't worry, I'll get up when I start feeling my legs again... Man, I hate Twister". She sighed. Oscar took his chance to get back at her.

"And I'm the baby...".

They all had dinner together, and after the guys went away, Max and Charles cleaned the kitchen while Y/N fixed the living room. She carefully folded the mat while listening to the boys chatting in the kitchen. They were discussing something about Carlos. Apparently, the spaniard had a fight with his girlfriend about anal sex. She found it weird that Charles and Max were open enough to talk about it knowing that she was around. It wasn't like she didn't know what they both did when they were alone, but they were never straight forward about either. She kept listening to the conversation. It seemed like Carlos' girlfriend was scared of trying it, and he took it as if she didn't trust him enough to do that with him. But she wasn't interested in what Carlos and his girlfriend did, she cared about what Charles and Max thought about the situation.

The thing is, they had their own ways of approaching sex and those ways were kind of limited. Mostly because of her. She was scared, as Carlos' girlfriend, of getting hurt while doing new things, and even if she had boyfriends before them, she was a little vanilla with them. It was a big jump going from one person to thinking about two at the same time. So the boys were patient, they "took turns" so she wouldn't be too overwhelmed with the situation. More than once she thought about how boring it must be for the one waiting, watching the other two have fun while he had to wait, and whenever those thoughts crossed her mind she felt the need to broaden her comfort zone a little bit.

She concentrated on the conversation again. Max explained that he could empathize with Carlos' point of view, it would hurt him a little to know that Charles or Y/N wouldn't try with him something they wanted to do thinking they could get hurt. He was clear with that: when you love someone, you don't let them get hurt, and you never, ever, hurt them yourself. Charles was little more on the girlfriend's side, he remembered the first time he let Max do that, and he was scared shitless, he also reminded Max that he begged Charles to go easy on him when it was his turn, and with that reminder, Max gave some more credit to the girlfriend's argument. It seemed like they both understood, not only for having been in that position before, but also from an empathetic side, how vulnerable it could be to let someone do that to you. She felt relieved.

"Hey, can I ask you guys about something?". She asked later that night, looking at her lap. They were getting ready for bed, Max was brushing his teeth and Charles was changing his jeans for a more comfortable pair of shorts. They both looked at her, curious about what she could be thinking about. She had been pretty quiet since the guys left.

"Sure, Amour. What is it?". Charles walked to the bed and sat down, placing his hand on her leg and running it up and down, easing her anxiety a bit. Max rushed up his routine so he could focus completely on her, going to the bed as fast as he could.

"I've been thinking about something. About us". Max didn't like the sound of that, he loved what they had too much, he didn't want to break up. "I know that we don't do a lot here". She patted the bed and they frowned at the same time.

"What do you mean, Schat?". He smirked at the thought of everything they had done on that bed. "We do a lot here".

"I mean, yes, we do, but it's how we do it". They weren't following her and it was frustrating. "I want us to do things together, the three of us, but it scares me. Every time I think about it, this fear of getting hurt paralyzes me".

"You mean that you want us to do things to you... together?". Charles was trying to be as polite as he could about the subject, Max was a little more direct.

"This is the type of conversation I like to have in bed. Who cares about the last episode of The Last of Us?". Y/N laughed under her breath, the pink on her cheeks softening a few tones.

"We can try whatever you want, Amour, as long as you feel comfortable. You're the one that will get the roughest part, we know that, that's why we never asked for more and waited for you to bring it up". That made her feel safer.

"We will always take care of you. We promise". She knew that Max was sincere.

"So, how do we do this?". The boys looked at each other, their eyes wide open.

"You want to try this now?". Charles asked and she nodded.

"Yes! I waited for this moment my whole life". Max exclaimed happily as he took off his shirt.

"Mate, calm down or you'll be the one getting it". Charles did what he could, but there was no cure for Max. If there was something that he had been waiting for was for the moment they all three did something together.

"I didn't know his love for butts extended this far". They watched Max go to the bathroom, looking for lubes and oils that would make the process a lot easier.

Charles just sat with her, holding her hand and smiling at her. Y/N and Charles had a different sexual history together than each of them had with Max. They started dating first and that meant that they started sleeping together before they added Max to the equation. Charles knew what, how and when she liked things. He knew her like the back of his hand, and had a different approach to intimacy than Max had. They were pretty equal in bed, but she usually let him take the lead of the situation and it was a wise decision, since he never guessed wrong what she wanted to do. Max was different, he worshiped her, he would do whatever she'd ask for if it meant pleasing her. That meant that she was the one taking the lead and he followed her like a warrior on a crusade. She didn't know what they were like when they were alone, for what she heard from them once in a while, they switched a lot, it all depending on their moods at the moment. When the three of them were together, Charles would usually go first, helping her relax and carry the situation, Max watching and doing little to no interventions. Then the Dutchman would follow with Charles still in the picture, but more coming from a caring side, taking care of them. He had a protective side that never rested and always shone with them.

Max gave Charles the space to ease Y/N's nervousness, while he decided to go to the living room for some scented candles and his speaker, already thinking on which playlist they should use to make the situation more relaxing for her. Charles took his time setting the mood, kissing and caressing every place of skin exposed before starting with her clothes. She was grateful that they didn't jump on her the minute she agreed to try this, instead they took the time to help her feel comfortable and, more importantly, loved. Once every piece of clothing was off, Charles looked at Max, a silent conversation about how Max could enter the picture as smoothly as possible. They decided for him to do something that Charles usually does: massages. So while Charles kept her busy, Max took one of the oils and gently started massaging the knots on her shoulders, easing the tension. They both knew the process, they knew what they had to do for her to be ready, so they just made sure to be open and verbal about what they were going to do before doing anything.

"It's going to hurt, you'll feel some pressure, Schat. It's normal, you just have to relax". Max told her after her and Charles had already been going at it for a while, as he carefully moved her legs to position her comfortably on top of Charles. "If you feel like you can't keep going, you tell me and I stop immediately, okay?". She nodded, still a little tense, even if she was worked up. Charles, under her pulled her flush against him, letting her rest her weight on him and running his hands up and down her sides.

"We need words, Amour, you know it". It was a rule that they had, nothing without explicit consent, specially new things.

"Yes, I understand. I want to do it". She sighed and prepared herself, focusing on Max's hand caressing her lower back.

It hurt, it took her some time to get used to it, she even let a few tears run down her cheeks. The boys stopped moving a few times to give her time, they whispered some comforting words to her and kissed her discomfort away. But she ended up liking it, once the pain was not there anymore, once she felt how connected she was to both of them in that moment, she realized that she was right on stepping out of her comfort zone. She had never seen them as happy as she saw them in that moment, Charles locking eyes with her from underneath her, Max's smile against the back of her shoulder as his hand grabbed Charles', both squeezing each other's hand tightly. It was special and it was great, two things she before feared the moment wouldn't be. She was glad that they all did that together.

"How do you feel, Amour?". Charles asked her as soon as he recovered from his post sex dizziness. She felt Max moving away from her, lifting his weight so she could move if she needed to, but she needed him close, so she grabbed his arm and pulled him back on top of her. Charles let out a huff when Max's weight fell on them again, being the one holding everyone on top of him was hard, but he wouldn't rather be anywhere else. Max chuckled at his huff and Charles slapped the back of his head, but ended up joining his boyfriend in the laughing fit. They stayed like that for a while, just close while their hearts went back to a normal rhythm.

"What about a bath, Schat? I think it'd be good for you". She let out a quiet 'yes', Max then getting up and walking to the bathroom. Charles took his time with the massages, working on all the new muscles she had used and were in need of care. When the water was ready, he helped her up and she went to the bathroom. While she relaxed, Max and Charles cleaned up. They changed the bed sheets, took all the candles, oils and lubes to their places and prepared some tank top and cotton panties for her to dress up with. She stayed there until the water got cold, and with still some discomfort, she got out and wrapped herself in a towel, emptying the tub before walking out. She dried and dressed herself quickly, and joined the boys on the bed, taking her spot in the middle. The tiredness on their faces was notorious, but they put on the effort to stay awake to make sure she was alright.

"You might feel a little sore in the morning". Charles said and then kissed her shoulder, his hand on her hip, on top of Max's.

"But the bright side is that you get breakfast in bed because of that". She giggled at Max's comment.

"I might do this with you every night if it gets me breakfast in bed in the mornings". She joked, but Max was grinning like he won the lottery. "I'm joking".

"Don't play like that with my heart". His smile dropped and she felt Charles shaking with laughter behind her.

"You seriously love butts".

"They are one of the best features of you guys, after your arms and Y/N's boobs". The other two looked at him holding their laughter. "What?"

"Bueno, para gustos, colores". Y/N said and snuggled up by bringing Max closer. They were used to her chanting some Argentinian sayings at them and they learned what most of them meant. This one meant that it was pointless to discuss personal preferences. "Thank you for being so good to me". She said after a while. "You have no idea how important it is for me that this moment went on this great".

"We love so much, Schat. You don't have to thank us for these things. We'd bring down the moon and stars for you".

"Je vous aime, mes chéris". (I love you, loves)

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Hey, I'm back with lestappen x reader. Hope you guys like it. I'm thinking about working a bit with smut, but from a more subtle and delicate perspective. What do you guys think about that? Would you like more content like that?

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #lestappen imagine #lestappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #max vestappen one shot

[maygrcnt]

 I’m a Careful Driver (You’re a Reckless Driver) 

in which i dive into the inner workings of eddie diaz’s brain while he talks with evan buckley. read on ao3 here

Eddie sat on his own couch, beer in hand, mindlessly listening to the drone of late night television. Having had a rare day off, he knocked everything off his to-do list earlier in the day before sitting down to relax. Christopher was sleeping soundly, there was no reason for him to still be awake except. . .

The sound of a key unlocking his front door suddenly met Eddie's ears. 

Except Eddie had a feeling he should stay awake just in case he had a visitor. The door opens, and his heart rate quickens. Before he can get a word out Buck is already justifying his arrival. 

“Okay I know I didn’t text, and I know it’s late, and you probably were just about to go to bed, but you know how much I hate working a shift without you and I just couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell you about everything that happened today,” Buck launches into a speech that was probably rehearsed throughout his entire drive across town. 

“You know you don’t need an excuse to come over,” Eddie says, turning around to face the other man. His breath catches when he notices Buck is still in his LAFD T-shirt and sweats. He must have driven straight here from the station. 

Buck smiles at the comment while taking his shoes off and placing them neatly on the mat by the door. “Okay don’t go anywhere I’m gonna grab a beer and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

A warmth starts in Eddie's chest and makes its way all the way up to heat his ears while Buck helps himself to the contents of his fridge. He finds the remote to turn off the talk show that he wasn’t really watching and situates himself so that he would be facing Buck when he returned to the couch. 

“Okay so, the first call was to an elementary school. . .” He begins while finding his way back from the kitchen. 

Eddie slots his head into his hand and fixes his eyes on the man across the couch. It was so easy to fall into a state of awe while listening to Buck ramble on and on about any and everything. Eddie really was listening to all Buck had to say, but he also happened to let his mind wander. When they were safe at home like this he tended to let his mind wander farther than he might elsewhere, lest his face betray him and broadcast his thoughts.

It rarely did, but he kept cautious nonetheless. Ever careful to preserve their relationship exactly how it stood. The thought of taking a risk that could steer this friendship off the road paralyzed him. And so, late nights and careful thoughts it would have to be. 

Buck started laughing while trying to continue his account of the day. He laughed so hard he managed to lose his center while sitting on the couch and he placed a hand on eddies leg to recenter his position. Buck wasn’t as careful as Eddie.

At least, that’s what Eddie would assume if he thought the other man might be interested in the same way he was. But the lack of discretion made Eddie believe there was no reciprocation. He couldn’t imagine feeling this way and not being terrified of it. 

For the first time in the conversation Eddie genuinley couldn’t pay attention to what was being said, because Buck still hadn’t moved his hand. It rested naturally on Eddies thigh while Buck recounted the end of the shift. As the story came to a close he felt a wash of adrenaline, and an urge to abandon all the caution he had spent years building. 

He pushed down the urge, at least as much as he could. 

“Well,” He said while putting his own hand on top of Bucks (the bravest thing he could muster the courage to do), “it sounds like you had a pretty great shift.”

Buck tilted his head, faced his body directly towards Eddie, and stacked a third hand onto the pile. “It’s never a great shift without you there.” The tone was playful, but a distinct layer of sincerity permeated and both men knew it. Those words lead Eddie to do the most reckless thing he could think of:

Hope. 

He let himself, for just one moment, hope that the intention behind Buck’s words was the same as his own. 

Then, with the same lack of caution he’d always employed, Buck removed one hand from Eddie’s leg and placed it on his face. It was now that Eddie realized how paper thin his walls of defence really were. When faced with the choice, cower in his fears or fall head first to something new, Eddie chose to fall. 

Luckily Buck was right there to catch him. They let themselves fall into the last first kiss either of them would ever have. Eddie placed his hand on Buck’s chest to feel his pulse and ensure it wasn’t a dream. He had lost Buck before. He had almost lost himself more times than he could count. But this was real and now that he had Buck he wasn’t letting go.

Eddie was stilll terrified, there was a whole new world of things to worry about. But he no longer feared being reckless, now he had someone to be reckless with. 

#911 on fox #911 fox #buddie #buddie fic

[pumpkzsafeplace]

𝔼𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕒 │ 01.

(includes swearing and other strong language!)

x

The skies were as dull as the polluted sea water of England,

As the run-down taxi span around the sharp left corner of the narrow street. The sound of the breaks could be heard from outside giving the bypass’s glares and snarls, but the driver didn’t seem phased as he simply flipped them off with a lazy middle finger. The car looked like it was struggling to stay in between the lines as much as his eyes were struggling to keep open.

In all honesty, he looked like he hadn’t looked after himself properly in days.

He had a grease filled completion, that really highlighted just how scruffy and unkept his grey beard was. Luckily for him that was the only hair he had to worry about on his head. His face looked irritated, filled with spots and rashes that had been left to just pollute and take over his appearance. His green eyes had sunken into his skull from the lack of sleep he was probably getting, and it looked like the shirt and shorts combo he was sporting was close to hitting its two-week milestone tomorrow.

But that’s not the main character of this story.

No, our main character sits behind the plastic proof covering.

She was looked no older than twenty five and was dressed in what looked to be paint clothes, which was a unique choice to travel in. Both items of clothing looked too big for her frame, but she didn’t look like she minded. The top was stained with pink hair dye that clashed against her natural red curly hair and the pants were covered in gloss from what looked to be a previous renovation. Her shoes that she wore to finish the look were a pair of old converses that looked to have seen better days.

She wasn’t wearing any makeup, preferring her skin to be unsticky to help with the claustrophobia, and her hair was tied back to keep the annoying baby strands from getting in her face. Her headphones were helping with that issue too though, the big bulky frame acting like a headband as it replayed the same song for the 13th time in a low rhythm.

Around her neck she wore two things.

The first one was an old necklace that you could tug and yank, the elasticated string making it a good source for boredom or frustration. Sitting at the bottom of the string was an oddly looking ovel. It was beautifully patterned and had that old genuine rustic vibe going for it which is rare to see nowadays.

The second one stood out a bit more against her black clothing, it had caught the taxi drivers’ eye numerous times although he didn’t dare bring it up.

It was a green lanyard.

It had been decorated prettily with badges of cute bubble bees and angel wings, but the décor couldn’t take away the daunting sign that hung at the bottom. The same sign that caused so many unnecessary conversations of debates on an illness they didn’t have and had just saw on tv, so many whispers and finger points, so many rumours and belittling.

And all it had on it was one word.

One simple word.

Autistic.

The driver suddenly let out a loud curse as he took a sudden left turn, nearly knocking the poor woman out of her seat and onto her three neatly packed duffel bags. The taxi swerved again to a line itself back straight before the breaks were slammed on like the two of them were minutes away from being involved in an accident.

They weren’t.

The main just couldn’t drive.

“Hey pipsqueak, we’re here.” He grumbled, unlocking the doors and finally giving the woman the escape, she had been craving since he nearly ran over a bird ten minutes into their journey.

She nodded with a polite smile, hoping it would counter her for not wanting to talk to the bad driver. She was worried that if she opened her mouth, she wouldn’t really know what to say if she had to engage in a full conversation and the last thing she wanted to do was piss somebody off seconds into her ‘fresh start’.

He didn’t seem to mind as he sat there on his phone, gambling whatever little money he had left away. Meanwhile the young woman struggled pulling and balancing all three heavy duffels against the winter winds.

Yippie for the English weather.

As soon as the bags touched the floor, the door was slammed shut behind her and the driver sped off into the distance like she had entered a horror movie- which judging by the conditions in front of her, she wouldn’t doubt a possibility.

Just for double clarification, she unlocked her phone and got up the pictures of the flat she had purchased to move into. Photoshop must have really done wonders to these promotional pictures because as soon as she held it up against her current surroundings, it wasn’t difficult to play spot the difference.

The block building itself was an off-white colour.

A handful of windows were still in place. However, a good amount was either filthy, graffiti-stained or just broken and smashed all together. A good amount looked to be either covered with wooden panels or pieces of furniture to block out the draft that would be battling against their warm home environment. To the left of her were three large overflowing bins, their continents staining the pavement with it’s moulding liquid. It was enough to turn her stomach, and she wasn’t exactly the squeamish kind when it came to stuff like that.

Although if she were to see a mouse or a rat, that would be a different story.

With all the unprepared changes, she began to feel the panic tingle at the tips of her fingers. It had become almost like a warning sign for her over time to get her breathing under control before the situation went south. Plus, this was going to be a fresh start for her- she didn’t want to ruin it having a meltdown 5 minutes after arriving at the new place.

Just calm down, it’s going to be okay.

Yes, it was different- but different doesn’t always mean bad.

Maybe she was being a bit too judgmental too quickly?

It’s not fair to judge something just for how it looks.

She didn’t like it when it happened to her in school.

So, let’s just start again with more of a positive mindset.

She thought as she made her way over to the block door. With frowned eyebrows, her eyes focused in on the small burnt hole beside the mental door. She thought nothing of it at first, until she noticed the security ‘push me’ button sat inches away on the other side of the metal.  Basically, giving anybody access to the building whether they had a security card or not.

Wonderful.

Her nerves were now twitching as her anxiety began to inch underneath her skin, putting her on edge at this whole last-minute decision.

C’mon, she could do this!

Be brave, you’ve got this!

With shaky hands, she paused her music and pressed the number of the flat she had picked to rent out. The automatic voice that answered was loud and obnoxious as it patched through the signal to the room itself. For a couple of minutes, it was complete radio silence, until a rough voice echoed out through the speakers.

“Yes?”  He responded, already sounding annoyed with the interaction.

Was he not expecting her? Had she gotten the address wrong or something? Was this not the place she was renting and now she was just stranded here until further notice.

Her fingers began to twitch and stim without her permission as she tried to find her voice in the sea of monsters that had haunted and claimed her mind a long time ago. She bit her inner cheek as she attempted to re-ground herself, digging her nails into the palms of her hands as she cleared her throat.

“Hi-um yeah, I think I’m supposed to be moving in today. I spoke to a Mike yesterday. Mike Rodgers? He said the place would be available today to move in, I’m Eliza.” She babbled, hoping that the point of her conversation was mixed up in that splurge somewhere.

"Eliza Winters?" The voice asked with a grunt, giving her some control back over the situation.

“Hi, Yes! That’s me! Hi.” She stated, sounding a little too excited for a first meeting.

A loud buzz sound filled her ears, overwhelming her for a moment- but thankfully not too bad due to her ear protection.

With a struggle she dragged the three bags into the entrance way, giving the place a further critical inspection.

Yeah, it didn’t look any better than the front in all.

Inside gave off an eerie vibe almost due to the mouldy colours and graffiti coated walls.

If she didn’t hear the occasional shuffle from the doors, you would think the place looked abandoned. Even half of the post boxes had been torn apart, only a few still fully secure and promoting their door number. The rest were just open for anyone to take, the identification number scribbled down in permanent marker.

With cautious steps she dragged her things into the lift- and from first inspections she really debated leaving it and attempting to survive the three flights of stairs. The entire walls were coated in graffiti, even the ceiling had become a victim to the tagging.

Bless, it looked like somebody attempted to cover it and try and redeem some sort of professionalism back but at lass their attempts were hopeless.

Eliza pressed the floor button and immediately regretted her decision as the lift jumped robotically before it began its increase. She attempted to shake off the nerves as her journey was shortly coming to an end, and with a deep breath she waited for the lift doors to open in anticipation.

“Who the HELL do you think you are, to have the AUDACITY to sleep with MY sister!” A shrieking voice welcomed her as the lift doors opened to a scene best described as chaotic.

Continued in : 02.

Back to description.

#pumpkinposts #creative writing #writer #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing wednesday #writerslife #writers and poets #story #short stories #short story #eliza

[ikeromantic]

Entwined Ch 3

Trying out some cover art for this story ^_^ Images from Pexels!

Part 3 of a multipart series. Mai has been reborn in the modern age after a full life in the Sengoku. The warlords as spirit animals find her again after 500 years of searching for her soul. Approx. 3700 words.

Part 1

Previous: Entwined Ch 2

Mai sighed at the inventory spread out on her design tables. This was her least favorite part of sewing. There were a ton of odds and ends she needed to find a use for. Buttons and beads and trim that didn’t amount to enough for a real commission. Maybe she could do something crafty with them. Mai sketched out a few quick ideas. A lampshade, an apron. Maybe a decorative pillow? 

None sounded very appealing. The apron idea was the best, but did people even wear those anymore? She rubbed her temple, hoping for a burst of inspiration. Just then, her office door swung open almost like an answer to her unspoken plea. Mai leapt to her feet, ready to greet a new customer, but it was Mitsuhide on the step. 

“Good morning, little mouse.” He came in and the door shut behind him.

“Good morning?” She felt incredibly pleased to see him there, followed by embarrassment for being so eager. Keep it professional, she told herself. “I must have misunderstood your email. I thought we were meeting at the address you sent in about two hours?”

His smile widened as if he could see past her words and straight into her racing heart. “We were. You did not misunderstand. But my errands this morning brought me through your neighborhood, so I thought I would offer to pick you up. But if you prefer . . .” He gestured to the door.

Mai shook her head. “Oh! No, that’s really nice of you.” She took a breath, reminding herself to calm down and speak like a human. “Just give me a moment to wrap up here.”

“Sure.” Mitsuhide sat on one of the lobby couches, lounging like an indolent cat. He looked so sure of himself, so comfortable everywhere he was, she thought. 

She tried not to glance at him as she shut down her laptop. He drew her eye though. It was more than his looks, she decided, though that was plenty to like. It was the way he carried himself. As if he knew things, secrets and hidden stories, as if he carried the weight and mystery of that knowledge.

“Do I have something on my face?” Mitsuhide’s smile turned wicked. 

Mai felt her cheeks heat. “Umm. Yes. A bit of fluff.” A lie, and a bad one at that but better than admitting to her thoughts.

“Oh? Could you brush it off for me? Since I can’t see it.”

“I . . .” She swallowed. “Sure.” It was just his cheek. Just his cheek. Just his - her fingertips grazed his skin and with that touch came an image, unbidden. In her mind’s eye, she was cupping his cheek in her palm, reaching through some sort of wooden cage. His face was bruised and swollen, but his eyes were the same. Mai jerked her hand back.

Mitsuhide raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Did you get it or did it get you?”

Mai gave a half-hearted laugh. What a weird thing to think of. “I got it. Sorry.”

He stood. “So are we ready to go?”

“Ready.” She grabbed her bag and shoved her notepad into it. “Will I need to take photographs of the site or anything?”

“If you want to.” Mitsuhide opened the door for her and then waited as she locked it behind them. 

“Ok. So what is this place? Is it involved in your script?”

He nodded. “In a way, yes.” Mitsuhide helped her into his car. 

It was, Mai noted, a very nice car. New enough to have all the bells and whistles, anyway. She wondered what he did besides theater work to afford this kind of thing, but it wasn’t polite to ask. 

“It’s more a mood. Inspiration.” He shrugged and offered her a smile from his driver’s seat. “I am hoping you’ll feel it too.” 

There was some unexpected earnestness in his gaze, a momentary vulnerability gone as soon as noticed. Mai wished she could have it back, just a little longer. Which was silly, of course.

He parked at a garage a few blocks from their destination. On the walk there, he was mostly quiet. Only stopping to point out a handful of historical markers. Mai tried to pay attention, making notes in her journal. She didn’t think this information would apply to costuming decisions, but you never knew what might spark inspiration.

It turned out the historical site they were heading to was barely a ruin. It sat, preserved, in a small patch of green at the edge of a lake. Just a few large stones and the bare remnant of a rock wall. 

“So, what is this place? Or what was it?”

Mitsuhide pulled himself up onto one of the large stones and sat down, his legs dangling off the side. “A place with a good view.” He patted the spot next to him.

“I don’t think I can get up there.”

“I’ll help.” He gave her a playful grin at odds with the weight of his gaze. “Come on.”

Mai tucked her bag behind her and tried to clamber up beside him. There wasn’t much to get hold of, but thankfully Mitsuhide was true to his offer. He reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling her up. “Thanks.”

“All the thanks I need is you sitting here beside me.” He winked.

“You know, some people might get the wrong idea with the way you talk to me.” Mai gave him a critical look. “I’m just your costume designer. We’re like . . . co-workers at best.”

Mitsuhide put a hand to his chest. “How cruel. Merely co-workers? What if I told you that you mean more to me than that?”

His melodramatic expression made her giggle. “I would tell you that you’re an excellent actor.” He continued to make a stricken expression. “Oh come on,” Mai chided, “we barely know each other. You can’t act offended by me wanting to set this straight. I’m just your costumiere, right?”

“You aren’t just anything, Mai.” He dropped his over the top reaction and looked out at the lake. It looked like gold in the afternoon sunlight. “What if I’d like to know you better? We could be so much more to each other than co-workers.”

“I would tell you what I’ve told the guys that hit on me before you. I don’t date my customers. I’m sorry.” She felt her chest constrict as she turned him down. Some part of her screaming that this was not what she wanted. But she ignored it. 

Mitsuhide chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing I’m only teasing. Come on, costumiere.” He pointed to the lake. “Feeling any design inspiration? I was hoping you could incorporate the color and look of water. That dramatic fluidity. And the sense of something being old and grounded, like the remains of this castle.”

Mai felt deflated by his admission. Only teasing. It wasn’t disappointment she felt, or so she told herself. No! This was irritation at being taunted. Taken in by his silly act. She promised herself she wouldn’t let him get the better of her again. Mai took out her little notepad and jotted down a few ideas, focusing on the project.

They sat together in an awkward silence for a few moments. Mitsuhide watching her write, and she doing her best to ignore him. She wanted to stay annoyed but the cool breeze and the gentle sound of water and birdsong smoothed over her wounded pride. 

“There’s that smile.” Mitsuhide chuckled. “I was beginning to think I broke your heart.”

“In your wildest dreams. I always get serious when it’s about design.” Mai snapped her notepad shut and tucked it away. “So is this all you needed from me today?”

He leapt down from the rock and held out a hand to her. “Yes, though I’ll need you to bring the mockups for Act One to the theater next week. Will they be ready by then?”

Mai nodded. “I should be able to manage that. And it will be a good opportunity to check the fit for your cast.” She took his hand, ignoring the warmth that sent prickles up her arm from where their palms touched. 

Mitsuhide squeezed her fingers gently then helped her down. He only smiled when she snatched her hand back. “You know, there is one more thing I need from you today . . .”

A short while later, Mai found herself seated comfortably at a fine restaurant. It was the kind of place people dressed up and made reservations for, but this time of day it was mostly empty. “Are you sure this is ok, Mitsuhide? I don’t need you to buy me-”

“It’s a thank you for putting up with my whims.” Mitsuhide smiled. “Besides, I know the owner here and he’s been after me to come try his new menu.”

“If you say so.” She glanced around the dining room noting the expensive decor. Even the wait staff was dressed better than she was today. “So what kind of food do they have here? I didn’t see any menu.”

Mitsuhide shrugged. “Whatever the chef is in the mood to make. But I’m told it’s always good.”

“You don’t know if it’s good or not?”

Before he could answer, a man in a chef’s apron caught their attention. He was making a beeline for their table. He had a broad, cheerful smile that lit his single blue eye. His other eye was covered by an old-fashioned eye patch, embroidered in the center with a tiny crescent moon. 

Mai didn’t have much time to observe him before he was right there, pulling her into a hug.

“Kitten! It’s so good to see you!”

Normally, being hugged by strange men was not on Mai’s list of acceptable things. But there was something warm and familiar about this man. Still, she didn’t want him to get the wrong  idea. She pushed back gently and he let go.

“This,” Mitsuhide sighed, “is my friend, Masamune. Masamune, this is Mai. Please don’t call her kitten.”

“It’s, uhm, it’s nice to meet you?” Mai felt her cheeks heating as he stared at her. The look in his sapphire eye was so intense. As if they were long lost lovers or friends separated a long time ago and now, unexpectedly, reunited. 

At her words though, his smile faded a bit and he stepped back. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you too.” He looked at Mitsuhide. “I should have figured you would only stop in for her. You never eat properly on your own.”

“My nutrition is adequate,” he replied, sounding mildly annoyed. “I am just taking my co-worker out for a thank you lunch and since I can’t cook . . .”

Masamune laughed. “Fine, fine. I’ll whip up something special for the two of you. A take on my seasonal menu.” He reached for Mai’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “Thank you for coming in today.”

When he left, Mai let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Is he . . . is he always like that?”

“More or less.” Mitsuhide sat back in his seat, looking more relaxed than usual. 

“You two must be very good friends. How long have you known him?”

“A long time.” He had that pensive look again, though his lips were still lifted in his familiar grin.

Mai didn’t want to pry, but when he looked like that, it made her heart feel bruised. “Are you alright, Mitsuhide? I mean, I know you’re ok, but if there’s something you want to talk about, I can listen. I don’t mind.” 

He studied her expression, his fingers tapping a delicate rhythm on the tabletop. “It’s not the right time. And besides,” he smirked, “we’re just co-workers. I don’t want to cross a line.”

She could tell by his tone that he was teasing her. But he was right. She’d reinforced that boundary today and now, here she was, acting as if there were more between them. It felt like there was more between them. “Ah yeah,” she gave a half-hearted laugh. “Sorry. I just meant-”

“I know what you meant.” He reached across the table and patted her hand. “You are too kind. You really should be careful who you let see your soft heart.” 

His touch was brief, light, but it still sent her heart galloping away. Mai took a deep breath, trying to settle. Her attraction to him was ridiculous. Childish. She needed to get herself under control. It was really lucky for her that despite being such a tease, he was a gentleman. Here he was again, warning her. “Thanks,” she managed. 

Thankfully, Masamune appeared with their food just then, or she might have had to think of what else to say. He was carrying a tray covered in little dishes. The food was gorgeous and smelled good. 

“Are those radishes shaped like bunnies? And you made little snakes out of the cucumber!” Mai’s eyes darted excitedly from dish to dish. A variety of pickled vegetables, noodles in sauce, fruit, and fusion dishes, all made to look like little woodland creatures. There was even a pepper cut to look like a hawk. It reminded her of her visitor the day before. 

Masamune chuckled. “I thought you might appreciate that touch.”

“You are so talented! Ooh and look! A little kitty!” She pointed at a carrot.

“That’s a tiger, lass. See the stripes?” Masamune lifted it with her chopsticks and held it out to her. 

Mai peered at it. The shape still looked more like a cute kitty to her but she nodded agreement anyway. “He is pretty stripey. You did such a good job with him!”

“And he tastes good too.” He held it to her lips. “Try it.”

Mitsuhide frowned. “You don’t need to feed her.”

“I don’t need to, but she doesn’t mind, right lass?”

 Mai blushed. She didn’t want to make the chef feel bad. He seemed like such a sweet guy and he’d made all this especially for them. But it was weird being fed by someone else. She decided to get it over with quickly. The tiger-carrot was delicious. Lightly sweet and a little spicy. “Oh. My. God. Masamune . . . this is so so good.”

“I’m glad you like it. With that kind of reaction, I’d be happy to cook for you anytime.”

“You’re going to make him insufferable,” Mitsuhide sighed. He speared the rabbit-radish and stuck it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Tastes like . . . food.”

Masamune set the chopsticks down and gave Mitsuhide a withering look. “You never appreciate my cooking. But one day - one day I’m going to make something even you have to admit is tasty.”

Mai could not help but laugh at the two of them. “You guys are like an old married couple. Arguing over dinner.”

“It’s lunch. And for that comment I ought to take the whole thing back to the kitchen and let my staff eat it.” Masamune’s lips pursed in a pout.

If he looked sour, it wasn’t a patch on the face Mitsuhide made. “You should take that back. Or there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” Mai giggled. “You are too much.”

Her laugh seemed to soothe the chef. His smile returned. “Well, I can’t stay mad at you, Mai. And hey, my offer stands. You can stop by anytime. Hell, if you come by after hours, I’ll even give you a cooking lesson, gratis.” Masamune bustled back to the kitchen to finish prep for the dinner rush.

When he was gone, Mitsuhide sighed. “I apologize for him. I forgot how he is around y- around women. I should have taken you someplace else.”

“No, no, he’s fine. A little . . . handsy? I don’t think I’ve ever been hugged and hand-fed by someone at first meeting. But he seems very nice.” She smiled. “I can tell you two have been friends awhile.”

“Yes.” Mitsuhide grew quiet, his eyes turning toward his food.

Mai didn’t want to pry. So much about him was a mystery, questions he would not answer, feelings she couldn’t square herself with, and images like memories that flitted through her mind but didn’t stick long enough for her to analyze them. It was probably just her loneliness and overactive imagination. Mitsuhide was a normal guy who just didn’t like to talk about his private life with a - a coworker. 

She picked up her chopsticks and began sampling a selection of bowls. Some were so spicy it almost hurt. Some were sweet. Others had a smoky flavor, or a delicate mix of savory flavors. Masamune’s cooking made lunch an experience rather than just a meal. Mai looked up between bites to see if Mitsuhide was enjoying it as much as she was. 

To her horror, he’d taken several of the bowls and dumped them into one, eating the resulting mix without any expression. He glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Did you just . . . throw everything together?” 

“Yes. It’s more efficient that way. And I have vegetables, fruit, protein, and carbohydrates. A little of everything.”

Mai frowned. “But then you’re not really tasting any of it. Every dish is a little different. Like, those noodles you threw in. They have a subtle lemon flavor you won’t taste at all, mixing it with that spicy fish.”

Mitsuhide shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what it tastes like. It’s all going to get mixed together in the end, right?”

“Are you serious? But, but you’re friend is an amazing chef. Why would you eat here if - if you’re just going to do that?”

“One, because I thought you would enjoy it. And two, because Masamune likes to feed me.” He smiled. “Am I wrong about the first one?” His golden eyes lit up as he looked at her. The expression felt almost intimate, as if he’d peeled back the layers of her social mask and saw right into her mind.

She took a drink to hide her discomfort. “No. Of course not. I think I’m pretty obviously enjoying the meal.”

“Then don’t complain about how I eat it, little mouse. I am enjoying this meal in my own way.” He reached over and wiped a little smudge of sauce from her cheek, then stuck his finger in his mouth. “I think I do like that one. Which dish was it from?”

The gesture wasn’t drawn out or exaggerated, but it came across as sensual to Mai. She couldn’t even answer for a moment. It felt like her breath was stuck in her chest and her cheek, where he’d touched it, was on fire. 

“This one?” He pointed with his chopstick to a sticky-sweet rice and fruit dish.

“Ummm. Ahh. Th-this-” She pointed to another one with tart cherries and bits of sweet melon.

“Thank you.” He took the bowl and added a bit of it to his food-slush. Then he took a bite. “Mmmm. Yes. Though I think the sauce on its own was sweeter.” He smiled at Mai and then frowned. “Are you alright? You’re looking a bit flushed.”

She could absolutely tell from his tone that he was teasing. Or. She was pretty sure he was. He had to know what he’d done was - was very flirtatious. How was a girl supposed to take that? Mai swallowed. “Yep. Yeah. Just fine.” He had to be teasing her again and she was not going to give him the satisfaction.

“Good. I would hate to think our outing today left you feeling badly.” His grin widened ever so slightly. 

Mai tucked her flustered heart away and tried to secure her mask of professionalism. For whatever reason, Mitsuhide had a way of getting under her skin but she was going to beat him at this game. She was going to be the most competent, absolutely not interested in dating, costumiere he’d ever worked with. 

She held onto that thought as she smiled back. “No, not at all. And now I have some great ideas for the lead designs and palace costumes. So thank you.”

He nodded. “I see. Then we should head back and let you get started. I don’t want to take up your whole day.”

Mai did not tell him she’d cleared her calendar for him today. That would be akin to admitting how much she enjoyed his company. No, she just agreed. 

Of course, Masamune wouldn’t accept their money when it came time to leave. He pressed a dessert on her, all packed up in a gorgeous little decorative container, and ‘leftovers’ too, tied shut with pretty bows and carefully layered into a colorful bag. She promised she would be back, and she planned to do it too. Her friends Asami and Kaiya would love this place. 

Mitsuhide drove her back to the office. On the way, they chatted about all sorts of inconsequential things. The songs on the radio, weather, new films coming out this month. It felt like words used to fill the silence between them. A quiet that was more honest and more frightening. 

She felt it every time his gaze landed on her. She thought he only looked at her that way when he thought she was distracted, but she caught him. A weight heavier than gold in his eyes, each moment created a pressure that built in the space between them and squeezed out all the air. It made her light headed. 

When the car pulled up to the curb, she almost didn’t get out. Mai wanted to ask him why - why he looked at her with so much gravity. They’d agreed today. Co-workers. Client and costumiere. Was it only her that felt there was something more beneath that? And if he felt it too, then why these teasing games? But she couldn’t find the words to ask him these questions. 

“See you later,” she squeaked, embarrassed by the break in her voice as she spoke. 

“Not too much later, I hope.” He took her hand and turned it palm up in his. His fingers traced the lines of her palm. 

Mai snatched it away as if scalded. “Of course not. I’ll bring the mock-ups over on Monday.”

His thin, sharp smile lit up with amusement. “Absence shall make my heart grow fonder.” He looked away. “See you Monday then, at the theater.”

Next: Chapter 4

#ikemen sengoku au #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen masamune #masamune date #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

[teaveetamer]

Okay this is a weird criticism and keep in mind that I still like this route and it's my favorite but during my current replay of AM, I notice an issue that's been kinda bothering me wrt the gameplay-story integration. See, we're told that the Empire is this powerful malicious army and that since there aren't that many resources and soldiers/reinforcements, the Kingdom army might not stand a chance, but it's kinda hard to take that seriously when thanks to grinding, you can one shot soldiers rather easily. Not to mention, being able to cultivate more resources thanks to ng+ and the planting system. It's kinda similar to how it's rather difficult to take the whole "we're fighting our former friends" dilemma seriously when a) there aren't that many interhouse supports or scenes where the houses students interacted with each other and b) you can recruit almost all of them. Granted, it's probably my own fault for grinding and playing it on NG+ but still.

I think that's less of a gameplay-story integration problem and more of a suspension of disbelief problem, I think. All games are going to need a certain degree of leeway to make sense, because it wouldn't be very fun if you just straight up couldn't play it.

That's why CF needs to completely rearrange its timeskip circumstance. It wouldn't be a very fun game to play if CF started where AM/SS/VW started, since you'd just be steam rolling everything. Even though things being hugely different doesn't make a ton of sense. Same deal with why grinding needs to be available, because locking players out of progression just because it technically makes more sense for the plot wouldn't be very engaging (heh).

I think your best play would be to impose some restrictions on yourself (e.g. no grinding or greenhouse) if you want it to be closer to what you were thinking. Or just tell yourself that Dimitri is a one man army so it makes sense that he could slaughter everything easily when it's right in front of him, lol. I mean he was doing it during the timeskip without us.

Can't help you on the story stuff though, that's just straight up a writing problem. But I will say this: I wish they'd actually let us SEE the stupid party from the end of the Battle of Eagle and Lion??? We're just constantly told that there was this great party and everyone had a good time and got along and they all reference it fondly whenever a fight with former classmates comes up. But we never actually get to see it! They don't even describe it, we're just told it happened!

Especially irksome since Claude somewhat describes it in his introduction in Engage, and it sounds fucking hilarious????? And validates my headcanon that the Lions party so hard they probably get right up to the edge of expulsion whenever they let loose????????? Give me that I want more of that damn it! Give me Sylvain hanging from the chandeliers and Felix drunkenly trying to challenge a structural column to a duel and Ingrid stuffing her face while crying about how much she loves horses and Dimitri saying "fuck" once and giggling like a naughty schoolchild and Annette and Mercedes burning down the kitchen trying to make more snacks and designated driver Dedue trying to wrangle everyone back to their dorm rooms and put them to bed before 4 am (and failing because Sylvain thought it would be hilarious to try and take his pants off and run across the monastery grounds naked)

[acacia-may]

Secrets and Sugar Mice (A Secret Garden Future Fic): Epilogue

Story Summary: After many bumps in the road, the newly-licensed Dr. Colin Craven is finally fulfilling his long-time goal of running his own cottage hospital in Thwaite thanks to guidance, assistance, and generosity of the most competent doctor he had ever known, the Grand Doctor from London, Dr. Louis Cartwright. Even the generally pessimistic Colin can admit that the future looks bright, but there are still a couple of matters that have thrown a wrench into his plans--a certain medical supply cabinet, in particular, and Dr. Cartwright's daughter, a nurse with whom Colin did not get off on the right foot.

After a particularly frustrating day, Colin turns to his one of his oldest friends for help and advice. Perhaps Dickon is right and all it takes is the magic of friendship to turn this whole situation around...

Fandom: The Secret Garden

Genre: Friendship, Slice of Life, Developing Friendship, Post-Canon, Future Fic

Relationships (in order of appearance/mention): Colin Craven & Dickon Sowerby, Colin Craven & Dickon Sowerby & Mary Lennox, Colin Craven & The Grand Doctor from London, Colin Craven & Original Characters (Julia Cartwright), Colin Craven & Martha Sowerby, and Colin Craven & Mary Lennox (A little bit of Mary & Martha friendship at the end). Colin & Julia (OC) Centric.

Characters (in order of appearance/mention): Colin Craven (POV Character), Dickon Sowerby, Mary Lennox (POV Character), The Grand Doctor from London (Dr. Louis Cartwright), Dr. Cartwright's Daughter, Julia (OC) (POV Character), Martha Sowerby, and Mrs. Susan Sowerby

Rating: G

Warnings: Colin being Colin (I guess?) but honestly this is just friendship fluff and slice of life.

Word Count: 5331 [Out of 11,636 Total]

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

FINAL CHAPTER: Chapter 4 of 4. Link to previous chapter (Chapter 3).

Story Below the Cut! Thank you so much for reading!

Epilogue: Mary

Later that evening…

Mary pulled her leather driving gloves off of her hands. They were soaked and had done very little to keep her fingers from shriveling in the wet and the cold. She had the terrible habit of forgetting to take them off when she left the automobile, and she hoped they wouldn’t be ruined from her run through the rain into the house. If they were, she could always get Colin to buy her a new pair seeing as it was his fault she was out in the nasty weather anyway.

 With a slight shake of her head, she opened the door to her room and found Martha turning down the covers on her bed.

Mary smiled. “You’re back.” 

Martha turned to look at her—her eyebrows raising at Mary’s wet clothes.  She was unsuccessful in stifling her laugh. “So is tha.”

Mary sighed and shook slightly trying to remove some of the excess water. She would be so glad to be out of these sopping clothes. “Yes,” she huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Well, Colin called for the car, and I needed driving practice so I went out to fetch him.”

“In this weather?” Martha laughed.

Mary rolled her eyes, but her mouth turned up slightly in the corners. “You sound just like Colin.” She paused and squared her shoulders staring straight at Martha before adding pointedly, “I am a good driver. And besides, he should have been grateful I came to get him seeing as he was practically soaked by the time I got there.”

Martha’s laughing eyes narrowed. “Doesn’ he always bring an umbrella with him?”

“Yes, but apparently it didn’t do him much good today. I don’t understand what was so important that he had to go out into this storm in the first place. He said he went for a walk.” Mary huffed. “Hypocrite. The last time I wanted to go out in the rain he lectured me for two hours about how I could get pneumonia or catch my death of cold.”

“Maybe he changed his mind?” Martha suggested in her good-humored way.

“Colin doesn’t change his mind.” Mary shook her head before she added. “He said he ran into you when he was out today. What was he doing?”

Martha shifted a little, but she chuckled. “Buying candy.”

Mary blinked before she muttered under her breath. “Nincompoop.”

“I thought tha’d be happy t’ hear Master Colin had been out an’ about in th’ world.”

 “I suppose,” Mary conceded, but she huffed. “Though I don’t understand why he deems it so important to leave his precious hospital for candy when he can never seem to find the time to come home.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” replied Martha with a knowing smile and twinkling eyes.

Mary’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head discerningly. “You know something.”

Martha shifted uncomfortably and she shook her head with a breathy chuckle. “No, I don’.”

Mary blinked at her. Martha had always been a terrible liar, and if Mary could see through her little fibs when she was ten, she could definitely see through them now. “Martha,” she said pointedly.

Martha looked away from her and sighed. “‘Tis not really my place t’ say, and ‘tis probably nowt anyway.”  

Mary took a step towards Martha and asked with a genuine curiosity, “Martha, what is it?”

Martha paused for a moment as if mulling the question over in head, but then the smile she had seemed to be holding back spread between her cheeks, and she said, “Let’s just say, I may have a bit o’ an idea about why Master Colin spends all o’ his time at tha’ hospital…”

#the secret garden #colin craven #dickon sowerby #mary lennox #secret garden #frances hodgson burnett #secret garden fanfiction #part 4 of 4

[theringers]

often - charles leclerc

summary: you’re unbelievably desperate for your boyfriend all night.

request: Hope u dont mind me requesting #79 and #82 w charles or lando😃 have a good day!!

prompt: 79) "Look at you, grinding against everything, you're really desperate for it. Aren't you?" 82) "Yeah, that's it, baby, just like that."

a/n: this is short & unedited so i apologize for the lack of “story” but this just came to my brain and i needed to write it down so enjoy also sorry if the gif is malfunctioning i’m ready to throw my phone at the window so just ignore lol

warnings: nsfw, dirty talk, 18+, teasing, obvi i had to include some public stuff bc it’s my brand

The live music was loud and blaring through your ears. You had requested a few songs and enjoyed drinks while you waited for the band to get to your request.

Charles stood up from the table to head towards the crowded bar. “Need anything, mon amour?” He looked at you.

You lifted your cup and smiled. “Another?” He nodded at you and walked towards the corner of the room. He knew you had a tolerance like no other and could outdrink him on any occasion. It was just humorous to him at this point.

“Are you excited for your trip?” Your friend asked from across the table.

“Oh, so excited. Charles and I haven’t been able to get away for a long time. It’s much needed.” You sat in your bar stool day dreaming about the blue waters of the Caribbean Sea and how you were about to spend weeks out there on the relaxing water.

Your friend took another sip of her drink. “I’m insanely jealous. Too bad Pierre and I can’t tag along.” She frowned.

“Next time, I promise. We’ll plan a trip just the four of us.” You both started laughing. “Or better yet, just the two of us. Girls trip.”

After a few more laughs, Charles walked up to your table with a drink in each hand. Pierre followed with the same. “Thank you,” you smiled at your boyfriend as he handed you another. You couldn’t remember how many this had been but you were feeling good and really enjoying yourself.

You sat all the way back in your barstool, but kept your drink at the table. This was the best possible solution to avoid drinking too quickly. Every time you needed a sip, you had to scoot yourself closer to the table, take a sip, and sit back. It was working pretty well.

Charles leaned over and spoke in your ear over the sound of the loud music. “I’m going to need you to stop doing that.”

You looked at him, confused. “What am I doing?”

He waved his hand around. “This.” He leaned in closer again. “You keep rocking your hips back and forth and it’s driving me crazy.”

You sat up and moved yourself closer to the table, rocking your hips at a painfully slow, yet discreet, pace. Your eyes found his and his focus was solely on you, sipping the remains of your drink.

“Anyone want another drink?” You asked the table as you hopped out of your seat.

“I’m good, I think I’m ready to head home soon actually. Pretty long day,” Charles said.

Your friend scoffed. “Nonsense, it’s only 11 o’clock.”

Charles looked at her with his head hung, then back at you. “Fine. One more drink.” He looked at Pierre. “See, this is what we have to deal with.”

You waited in the line for drinks and returned to your table. As soon as you scooted back in your barstool, Charles leaned over. “This is our last round of drinks. I’m going to need to take you home after this one.” You didn’t look over at him. You just kept your eyes straight ahead and smiled.

After more casual conversation with Pierre and his girlfriend, Charles called the car home. He took your hand and lead you out of the bar after leaving a hefty tip for the bartender.

Sliding into the back seat of the car, he acknowledged the driver and then went silent. You followed in after him, sliding across the seats. Your short sundress rode up creating friction between your clit and the car seats. You let out a soft moan, but ignored it, hoping no one else heard you. That was not the case.

The car started to move and Charles leaned over to you. He rested his hand on your thigh and whispered in your ear. “I heard that.” It sent chills up your spine.

The rest of the ride was silent, trying to focus on getting home without jumping each other’s bones in the backseat of the car. As soon as you arrived home, you both drunkenly stumbled in the door.

You shouted at Alexa to play some of your favorite music. Often by The Weeknd came out of your speakers.

Charles sat down on the couch with his hands on his knees. A deep breath escaped his lips as he took in the dark apartment around him.

“What’s up?” You asked, walking over to him.

“Long day,” he said. You nodded in response.

Leaning down towards him, you spread your legs to straddle him on the couch. You sat back with your weight on his knees, looking at him. “I love you,” you said to him.

“I love you too, mon amour,” he said. You felt his hands grip your waist. You began to slowly shift your hips around - starting with back and forth, and a little bit of side to side.

“I had a really fun time tonight,” you said.

“Me too, I’m glad we decided to go out.”

“It’s always a good time with them.” You were lucky enough to play matchmaker for Pierre, setting him up with your best friend. It was a win-win. He got a beautiful girlfriend and in return, you got to have your best friend accompany you on vacations, to races, PR events, galas, the whole nine. It was a smart move on your part.

You looked down at Charles, focusing on his messy hair. He was always such a perfectionist about how he appeared, but that all went down the drain when he drank alcohol. You kind of loved it, seeing him let loose a bit and not care so much. You ran your fingers through his messy locks and smiled.

“That dress looks so sexy on you,” he said. His eyes absorbed your body all over and his hands began to move up and down your sides.

“I knew you would like it.” You started to move your hips with more intensity.

“You want to tell me about what happened in the car?” He asked.

“I think you know what happened in the car.”

He had a smug look on his face. “I don’t, actually. Enlighten me.”

“Well, since you want to play dumb,” you grabbed one of his hands off of your side and guided it under your dress. “I’m not wearing any underwear. And I forgot I wasn’t until I slid in the car.” His fingers massaged the skin of your inner thigh.

“That’s hot.” He dipped a finger between your folds and felt the wetness pooling. He swirled his finger around a few times before sliding it inside of you. You moved your hips slowly, meeting his finger. “Look at you, grinding against everything. You’re so desperate for me, huh?” He smirked. You rolled your eyes at him but continued to move your hips. “You couldn’t even help yourself at the bar tonight. Or in the car.”

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you,” you said. You leaned down to unbutton his pants, grinding your body against his thigh in the process. You let out a moan and he just watched you in awe.

You pulled his pants down, his hard cock springing free. You got back on top of him and hiked your dress up above your hips. You positioned yourself on top of his cock and started to slide back and forth, creating euphoric friction for both of you. Your folds were wet and warm, making him grunt. “Shit, baby,” he said. His head fell back against the couch as he guided your hips. “I need to be inside of you, now.”

You pulled away and quickly sat down on his cock. He kept his hands positioned on your hips as you ground them onto him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let your head fall onto his shoulder.

You put the weight on your knees and began to bounce up and down on him. He placed his hands on your ass for support. “Oh yeah, that’s it baby,” he said. “Just like that.” A throaty moan escaped your lips right into his ear.

“You feel so good,” you said. The rhythm continued and he spread your cheeks. He was itching to pound into you but he loved the way you looked bouncing on his cock.

He reached for the strap of your dress, pulling it down to expose your breasts. He took one in his hand and massaged it roughly. “Shit, babe. Look at you riding my cock like such a good girl.” He wasn’t one to talk dirty too much, but with alcohol involved he was an open book.

“I’m all yours, baby,” you said, leaning back. You ran your hands through your hair while riding him and made eye contact with him - driving him crazy.

You could feel him start to thrust up into you, an indication that he was getting close. You leaned back down to his ear. “Cum for me, baby,” you said.

He finished with a grunt and a tight grip on your hips. You rolled off of him and laid your head down on a pillow. After all that alcohol, the couch was seeming like a perfect place to crash.

Charles returned with a towel and a glass of water for you. “You did so well, baby. That was hot.” He said, smiling at you and handing you the glass of water.

You giggled and stuck your tongue out. “You’re welcome.”

#f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #smut prompts #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc smut #cl16 #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc prompt #cl

[greta-van-fics]

heat above

author’s note: y’all. this may be the worst thing i’ve ever written. it’s a long overdue present for my angel chey @stardustschords​ and i just. this is porn. love you so much baby!

taglist: @thatiloveyouso @brokenbellsos @greta-van-yeet @alwayzthere​ @gretavanhoney​ @weightofdreams-gvf​

warnings: A LOT OF SMUT (18+ ONLY) lord have mercy this gets dirty. unprotected sex, slapping, hair pulling, degradation, spanking, thigh riding....i’m going directly to hell.

He’d been making eyes at you all night. You were sure of it. Normal glances, like you’d received from the rest of the band, didn’t linger like that. They didn’t stick to your skin and slide off, leaving a sugary-sweet, sickly burn behind. Your stomach had been in confused flips all night. Was he looking at you? Surely not again.

You raised your eyes to check, and there, like clockwork, was his doe-like gaze. Large eyes the color of burnt caramel that you swore could see through every last scrap of clothing you were wearing. 

Your cheeks colored uncomfortably and you fidgeted against the wall, trying to listen to the story his brother was telling you. Something about high school theater camp, and a missing pair of underwear, and wow, his gaze was searing you. You looked down at your exposed décolletage, expecting there to be red burn marks left behind. 

Finally, mercifully, you found yourself not engaged in conversation with anyone. Slipping away to the parking lot behind the bar, you sat down on the curb, let out a frustrated huff, and tried to cool yourself down. The hot, heavy air clung to your skin and did nothing to help. 

The interview had gone well enough. You were expecting it to be just another run of the mill question-and-answer, with you feigning surprise and utter interest at the musicians’ run of the mill responses. Instead, you met what was quite possibly the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life. And to make matters worse, he had been seemingly unable to tear his gaze from you since.

“No chance you have a lighter, right?”

You just about jumped out of your skin at the voice next to you. Jake was standing in the back doorway of the bar, looking down at you. His full lips quirked into a faint smile at your obvious shock. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You mumbled back a barely-audible “N-no!” and wiped your damp palms on your tights. They slid off the sheer fabric uselessly. 

“You ok, sweetheart?” Jake’s voice was raspy, and the overhead lights of the parking lot cast half of his face into shadow, but the Cheshire smile and glinting teeth were always visible. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled. A sudden burst of confidence overtook you. “Is it my imagination, or have you been watching me pretty much all day?” Jake laughed, and the sound was delicious. He looked like sex in a dark t-shirt with black jeans so tight they left incredibly little to the imagination.

“Oh, I have been looking at you,” he replied unabashedly. You both stared at each other for a moment, clearly trying to gauge the other’s intentions. “Do you live around here?” 

“I have a hotel room.”

“Well, that’s alright. Have you ever made out with a perfect stranger in the back of an Uber?”

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest, but a smile pulled at your lips nonetheless. “Do you wanna take me home, Jake Kiszka of Greta van Fleet?”

“Maybe I do.” He crouched down so he was eye-level with you. “I want to do a lot more than just take you home, though.”

You leaned forward so you were and inch away from him, his nose almost brushing yours. “Are you gonna throw me around a little bit?”

Your brash confidence wavered when Jake’s hand shot up to grip your face by the jaw and he whispered, “You’re a mouthy little slut, aren’t you?”

The Uber ride to your hotel slid by in a flash of hot, slick skin sliding against teeth and lips that pulled and kissed at everything in reach. You vaguely remembered feeling sorry for the driver, but then Jake had his tongue in your mouth again and everything else melted away. Even the elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor was a mess of steamy hands tangled in increasingly-messy hair.

Once you had successfully fumbled your key card into unlocking your hotel room door, Jake backed you against the wall and slid his hands from your hips up to your breasts. “Fuck,” he whispered, leaning into kiss you once more. A moan slipped out of your lips.

“Jake,” you panted, and half slumped against the wall, unable to support your weight anymore as his wandering hands made you weak. 

A sharp sting across your face made you cry out in pain that was immediately replaced with pleasure. “You fucking slut. Try again.”

Your mind raced, trying desperately to comprehend what Jake was talking about. Try again? You’d never hooked up with him before, how were you to know—he gripped your throat with one hand and yanked your hair so hard that you were forced to fall to your knees, and suddenly it all made sense. You knew exactly what he wanted. 

Your clit was positively throbbing with need as you gasped out, “Daddy!”

An animalistic snarl escaped Jake as he looked down at you, panting between his legs. "Here’s how tonight’s gonna go, my little whore. First—” He slapped you again, but you swallowed your cry even as your eyes watered, “—you’re gonna suck me off and let me cum all over your pretty face.”

“Then,” he continued, now unzipping his pants to reveal rumpled purple boxers and an erection that made you want to moan just looking at it. “You’re going to get a nice reward and ride daddy’s thigh until you cum.” 

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the thought. Those fucking jeans looked downright perfect for getting off on. Jake ripped your hair downward again until you were face to face, him bent over you like a king lording over his subject.

“And to finish it all off, I’m going to fuck you into that bed like the dirty girl you are.” 

Without any time to think, he had pulled out his rock-hard cock and nudged it into your mouth. Your jaw ached as you tried to adjust to this size, gagging hard as he hit the back of your throat. “Come on baby, take daddy’s cock. Take it good. You don’t want me to slap you again, do you?” You managed to send him a smirk with your eyes even as his cock filled your mouth that made him falter for a moment, breathing out, “Fucking perfect.”

He began to fuck your mouth gently, your nails digging into his thighs. The tough fabric of his jeans sent electricity through your body as you thought about what was going to happen next. You took him as deeply as you could, but he was so large you struggled. You moved your hands to wrap around the inches of Jake that you couldn’t hold in your mouth and he gasped and dropped your hair, moving to push his own out of his face.

The image of him with his head thrown back, mouth open in ecstasy as his hips thrust into your mouth made your cunt ache, and you began slowly snaking your hand down to reach between your legs when—

“Fuuuuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” Jake choked out, and you pulled off of him, kneeling back on your heels and presenting your face obediently. He held his dick in his hand and came—a lot—on your face. He backed away from you, breathing hard and looking like he’d truly just ascended to the stars. 

You waited patiently for him to walk back over to you and wipe his thumb through the cum that had landed on your cheek. He inserted the thumb into your mouth and you cleaned it, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Thank you for fucking my mouth, daddy,” you said, giving his thumb a small kiss as it left your lips. Jake bit down on his lip, perfect teeth gliding across it into a smile. His forehead was shiny with sweat, and you could feel your own hair sticking to the back of your neck. 

“Do you wanna ride daddy’s thigh now, beautiful?” Jake asked, pulling you gently to your feet and guiding you over to the bed, where he sat down and patted his left thigh. Having spent all day fantasizing about that very thing made you drop all pretenses and nod your head so fast you thought your neck might snap.

Jake chuckled indulgently and brought you down onto his knee. You immediately ground as hard as you could into the black fabric. Thank God you had decided to wear a skirt today. The friction of his jeans and your tights made you let out an unholy moan. Jake placed his hands at your hips to help steady you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair. 

“You wanna take those tights off, don’t you, you filthy whore?” Jake plucked at the sheer black fabric on your legs. “You wanna show me how wet you are?” You nodded again, unable to form any words as you rode his thigh mercilessly. 

Another expertly applied smack across your face and a growl of “Use your words, princess,” had you involuntarily screaming out, “Yes, daddy! Oh, daddy, please!” 

Jake smirked. “Good girl.” He lifted you briefly and pulled your tights down your legs, ripping them several times in the process. “Fuck. These are impossible.” 

You would have giggled at his adorable frustration had you not been so drunk on lust that you couldn’t think straight. As soon as you were extricated from the tights, you sat back down on Jake’s leg and rolled your hips, the new found skin-to-denim contact causing you to throw your head back and moan. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, and you came hard all over Jake’s thigh, fisting your hands into the hair at his neck. 

You fell to his side on the bed and panted, still sensitive from your high. Jake didn’t move for several seconds, so you lifted your head to inquire why. You were met with the sight of him staring at the evidence of your orgasm on his jeans. 

“Fuck, you’re the sexiest goddamn person I’ve ever met,” Jake breathed, still looking at the spot you had left behind. You colored and apologized for ruining his pants, but Jake cut you off to roll over and pin you down to the bed, kissing you passionately. He slowly pulled your shirt over your head, seemingly reluctant to break the kiss to do so. 

You could feel him remember that he was supposed to be dominating you as he tensed his back and sat up, straddling your hips. “Do you want to be fucked now, needy little slut?”

“Yes, daddy,” you cried, clawing at his shirt to indicate that you wanted it gone. He complied and removed his and your remaining clothing. Completely naked, he dipped to kiss you one last time before flipping your onto your stomach and pulling your hips up so his were flush with your ass. He spanked it hard and another moan escaped you. 

“Yeah, you like that?” His deep was raspy with desire, and you felt his once again hard cock pressing at your once again soaked entrance. He spanked you again, then leaned down to whisper, “Tell daddy how you wanna be fucked.”

A string of profanities that you were certain were intelligible left your lips, but you had no time to wrap your mind around what you were actually saying before Jake had slid into you fully, his fingers pressing into your hips. 

“Shit!” You gasped, then Jake began moving and fucking you relentlessly. The sound was dirty and lewd, sticky skin against sticky skin and you craned your neck to catch a quick glimpse of Jake, hips pounding into you and hair flying wildly about his face. It was more painful than if he had allowed you a few seconds to adjust, but you wished it could have hurt even more. The pain drove you toward orgasm in equal measure as the pleasure. 

You felt Jake’s thrust began to get sloppier and suddenly you heard him groan, “Gonna cum, fuck, baby,” and attempt to pull out, but you threw a hand back to grip his wrist and stop him.

“Come deep,” you moaned, and that was all the both of you needed to hit the peak. You tightened around his cock and he let out a growl that mingled sinfully with your scream. 

He finally pulled out and fell onto the bed, panting. The air was thick and scorching. You collapsed onto your stomach, feeling his cum leaking slowly out of you. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling you into his side and placing a hand on your ass. “I can’t wait ‘til the next time you interview us.”

#lord please forgive me #jake kiszka smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka fic #gvf smut #by liv

[smutophile]

Crime & Punishment (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: Your CEO catches you in the office late at night watching naughty videos and decides to show you just how naughty girls are punished.

Warnings: Dub con, spanking, masturbation

Word count: 3k

You sat at your desk and watched the sun start to set on another dreary New York Friday. The rest of the staff on your level had left almost over an hour ago but you had agreed to be the one to stay behind to assist the West Coast should any problems arise. The pro was getting to start work later but the obvious con was sitting alone in an office building late at night whilst the rest of your co-workers started their weekend.

It didn't bother you so much. You lived alone - you worked alone. You were used to being alone. The night shift in the office was quiet. California very rarely ever called you with problems at this time of night. It was peaceful. You’d do what you always do when you had quiet time. You pulled out your phone and escaped into your fantasy world that would always stay just that - a fantasy.

You read your dirty stories, your smut. You looked around to make sure you really were alone. Nobody wandered down to your level at this time of night. You hadn’t seen your boss in weeks - he only showed up when something was wrong so the less you saw of him the better. Although - he wasn’t so hard on the eyes. Steve Rogers - CEO. Young for a CEO but such a babe. Strong muscular build with a beard that just screams daddy. It was no wonder when you read your stories, the dark mysterious man always morphed into a familiar face in your mind. The things you would love that man to do to you.

Lost in your daydream you kept scrolling, not paying attention to the world around you. Lost in your own fantasies. You failed to notice footsteps approaching your desk. Failed to notice the figure looming behind you. Watching as you scrolled through videos of naughty schoolgirls having their bottoms turned a nice shade of pink.

“You know - watching porn on work time is punishable by immediate termination”

The boding voice made you jump out of your seat, your phone falling out of your hands and straight to Mr Rogers’ feet.

“I didnt..I wasn’t...i’m sorry” You stuttered...desperately trying to grab the phone from the ground and stop the video that was playing. It was too late. Your boss had the phone in his hands and could see all too well what you had been doing.

“Are you going to try to tell me this was an accident? You just stumbled across this website and accidentally watched this video?” He spoke so smoothly with a smirk adorning his face.

You were silent. What could you say? You had just been caught red handed by the very person you had been fantasizing about.

He turned your phone off and placed it on the desk next to you. You kept your eyes down and twisted your fingers in your hands. You stared at the ground and prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. This was the most humiliating moment of your life. It couldn't get any worse.

“I could fire you…” He paused. Another smirk lining his face. “Or we could come up with another punishment to fit the crime”

“Anything...please. I need this job” Your voice was shaky. But you were confident. If he was willing to give you another chance you would take it.

“Oh sweetheart, you shouldn't go making deals with the devil. You are bound to get burnt”

He closed the gap between you and lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“Bend over the desk”

You hesitated. Had you heard him correctly? He couldn't be serious. You searched his eyes to see if he was joking.

“Or you can pack your things and leave and never return. Which will it be?”

He crossed his arms. His face was hard to read. This man was strong and intimidating but this was coercion. Was he really capable of this?

The fear was evident in your body language but deep down there was a part of you that was secretly excited by the prospect of what was to come.

You moved slowly but efficiently. You laid your body over the desk and stretched your arms out in front of you. You could no longer see Steve but you could feel him. He ran his fingers down your spine. Your body was scared - the hairs on your arms standing up. But your mind - your mind was racing with all the possibilities of what was about to happen.

Steve placed his hands at the base of your skirt and lifted it slowly to reveal your white cotton panties. Your cheeks reddened with embarrassment. Of course you hadn't thought to put on sexy lacy underwear. Nobody would see them. He rolled the skirt all the way up to your waist and left it there with your ass on display.

“Hmmmm - what to do with you?” He questioned. You’d never heard him so satisfied. You only ever heard him barking orders or demanding answers. This was a completely different voice. A voice which quite literally sent shivers down your spine.

“Have you ever been spanked before?” You could hear him rolling up the sleeves on his dress shirt. Running his fingers over your underwear.

“No” You shook your head. You had imagined it in your head over and over again but you could never voice your fantasies out loud.

He quickly pulled your ponytail sharply - snapping your head up off the desk.

“No - what?” He spoke forcibly. Now your body was terrified. Your legs shaking and sweat started forming on your forehead.

“No...sir?” You phrased it as more of a question than a statement. Not sure exactly what he was looking for but desperate to please him.

He released your hair and gently pushed your face back down onto the desk. Apparently that was the right answer.

“I think ten smacks with my hand will be a good start. You don’t need to count”

He walked around to the side to give himself the room that he needed. Your heart was beating so fast and so loud you were almost certain he could hear it.

The first smack took you by surprise. A lard thud on your right butt cheek. The surprise of the hit shocked you more than the pain did. It wasn't so bad. You could take 10 of these. Especially with your underwear on to protect you. You were at least grateful for that small mercy.

He didn't wait very long for the next smack. This one hurt a little more. You let out the breath you had been holding but still didn't speak a word. You tried hard to keep your mouth closed throughout the next few hits but the pain was increasing. His delicate hands crashing down on your ass in quick succession alternating from left to right. You could feel tears filling in your eyes. From pain or humiliation you weren't sure.

At about smack number 5 you let out your first yelp. What you thought would come out as a cry of pain sounded more like a moan of pleasure. The spanking hurt and Steve was not holding back. He barely waited between each hit and showed no sign of slowing down. You were not enjoying this. You couldn't. This was supposed to hurt but you felt your body betraying you. Or was your mind betraying your body?

At smack number 10 you finally let the tears spill over from your eyes but still keeping your mouth closed. It quivered but you wouldn't dare speak or let him hear you. You could feel him rub his hand over your bottom in a surprising show of kindness. He gently ran his hand up your back and flicked the hair out of your face and to one side.

“That's a good girl. Take a deep breath for me now” His words were like music to your ears. You had no idea how much you wanted to please him. How much you wanted him to be happy with you. You followed his instructions and took a big gulp of air. You kept your body laying over the desk - too scared to move or do anything that could upset him.

“You did so well for your first time. Lets see if you liked what I did to you”

Your tears were almost gone now. Your shock and fear were replaced by a whole new range of emotions. Excitement...lust.

He dipped his fingers into your panties and dragged them down to your feet. He helped you lift up to your feet one by one and placed the panties in his pocket. He kicked your feet apart and forced your body to spread itself on display.

“Oh my - you certainly did enjoy your spanking”

You buried your face into the desk and curled your fingers in embarrassment. You wanted to tell yourself you didn't enjoy what he was doing to you. The pain was intense but you couldn't hide the juices leaking out of your pussy and graciously down your thighs. You were beyond wet. You were dripping.

Steve ran a finger through your slit and the moan that escaped your lips could not be controlled. He held his glistening fingers up to the light and inspected your arousal.

Your body was on fire. The spanking had left your behind burning but your pussy was throbbing. Your clit felt electric and you tried desperately to get the much needed friction on it to give you a spark.

Steve could see you rubbing your cunt against the desk desperately like a dog on heat. You were past the point of caring now. Humiliation had taken a back seat now and the driver was your absolute need to orgasm. There was no other thought - you had never needed to get off more than at this very moment.

Steve dipped his fingers back to your slit and ran them up towards your clit eliciting yet another guttural moan from your lips. His touch felt like a live wire had just been connected to your pussy and you were being electrocuted.

He removed his finger after just a brush against your clit and watched you try desperately for more. More friction...more anything. You needed more.

“Get up on the desk. On your hands and knees” He ordered. That was the voice you were used to. The one that always got what he wanted. Nobody questioned him when he demanded something and this wasn’t a question. It was an order. Who were you to disobey?

You complied instantaneously. Keeping your head forward and lifting your body up onto the table on full display for Steve to see. He pushed your shoulders down so that you were on your elbows but still keeping your ass in the air. Your body shivered in anticipation.

You could still feel the heat on your ass from your spanking. It felt as though welts might appear in the shape of his hand prints. That thought got you even more excited. A temporary reminder of what had happened tonight. That this was real.

Steve placed an object in your hand. It was small - cylindrical shaped. Almost like a tube of lipstick. Except - he flicked a switch on the object and you instantly knew what this was. The vibrations ran all down your arm. It was tiny but powerful. A bullet vibrator. He had this in his pocket? You’d have to come back to that thought later. Right now all you knew is that you were naked from the waist down, horny as fuck and you had a vibrator in your hands.

“I want to see you cum” He stated matter of factly. How you wished you could see his face right now. But then again, your boss is looking at your ass and pussy on full display right now. Maybe not being able to look him in the eyes is a good thing.

You took the bullet in your hand and slipped it straight down to your clit. The sensation made you jolt immediately and almost threw you off balance. Steve was still there, his hands on your hips instantaneously to steady you. You got back to work and placed the vibrator back on that sensitive bundle of nerves. It wouldn’t take long for you to get off like this. It would be embarrassingly quick.

SMACK. You heard the smack before you felt the familiar burn of the hit on your ass.

“Ow...fuck” You were not prepared for that. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy for you. Your hand holding the vibrator had slipped back onto the desk to steady yourself from the new onslaught.

“Put that back on your clit now” His voice was low but menacing. Your need to please him...to obey him was back. Your body quickly following his command before your brain could even comprehend what you were doing.

The sting from his hit had faded slightly but the burn remained. The fire was spreading to your cunt and whilst the spanking had put a small delay in your orgasm, it still wouldn't take long. The fight between pain and pleasure in your mind was confusing but pleasure was winning. It always would.

“9 more smacks and then you can cum. Don’t you dare cum before i’ve hit you 10 times” That made things a little more complicated. His voice was threatening. You couldn’t let him down. Not now.

You placed the bullet back on your clit and your body shook with excitement. You were more prepared for the next hit but you were not prepared for the reaction your body would have to the pain. As if on cue, you could feel that familiar sensation in your body. Your orgasm was quickly building. The next two hits came in quick succession. Your legs started to quiver. Your head started to shake back and forth. No no no no. It was happening too fast.

He kept spanking, switching between each butt cheek and alternating where he hit. You barely noticed the pain - instead focusing on how many slaps were landing on your sore behind.

“Please...PLEASE…” You were begging. Desperately. That was the only word you could say right now. Unable to form sentences. Your brain was unable to function right now as your pussy was in charge and nothing else in the world mattered. The sensation had moved from your belly down to your clit and was going to explode any second now. You counted. Nine...Ten...and then - nothing. You were floating...as if there was nothing around you. No desk...no office...just darkness. And then as if you had fallen straight back to earth - your orgasm ripped into you. The feeling took over you as if you had been hit by a freight train. Your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm and your pussy clenched in on itself as it rode out the shockwaves with the rest of your body.

You dropped the bullet onto the desk and curled yourself into a ball. Your body still shaking from the aftershock of the most intense orgasm you had ever had in your life. Your breathing was staggered...almost to the point of hyperventilating. ‘As your senses slowly started coming back to you, you could feel Steve’s hands rubbing your ass. Smoothing away the pain.

The reality of what you had just done was starting to sink in. An overwhelming sense of dread taking over your body. Your body was now choosing between fight and flight and running away seemed like the best option right now. You snapped your head up to look at the culprit behind these feelings and your body followed quickly after. You stood up off the desk and peeled your skirt back down to give yourself a tiny bit of dignity back.

You slammed your laptop shut and slid it straight into your bag. You grabbed your phone and handbag and swung around to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Hey hey hey...wait…” His voice was calm, soothing almost. His arms out as they tried to stop you from your escape. Trying to placate you and reason with you. You were beyond reasoning right now.

The tears were back and you could feel a sob building in the back of your throat.

“I can’t….I have to go” You managed to squeak out without sobbing. You started to head for the elevator before his hands were on you again.

“Please...just stop. Let’s talk about this” He was always the voice of reason. A smart business man like him...he knew how to get his way.

“No...i just...I have to go” Your quivering lip giving away your emotion that you were trying to keep bubbled inside of you. You swerved from his grasp and pressed the button on the elevator. He kept his distance from you sensing your fear. You got in and pressed the button for the lobby and kept your head down. Not able to look at him. You didn't want to see his face. His pity. You just needed to get out.

Your trip home was a blur. Somehow you put one foot in front of the other and found yourself in your apartment. Alone. Confused. Angry. A shower would wash away the shame that was enveloping your body. You stripped away your clothes only vaguely registering the fact that you were still missing your underwear.

Once the steam had started to rise from the shower indicating that the water was indeed scolding hot - you slowly placed your head under the spray and let the cascade wash away your tears. You ran your hands through your hair and ran it down your body until they landed on your butt. There was that reminder. That physical painful reminder of the shameful slutty act you had done. The guilt washed over you like a slap in the face.

You allowed yourself to be spanked...by your boss and you masturbated yourself to a mind blowing orgasm...in front of your boss. You consented to this. When you allowed yourself time to think about the severity of what you had done you realized with absolute certainty that you had enjoyed it. You loved it. You craved it. It was everything you had ever wanted and more.

After an eternity, you left the sanctum of your shower and dressed in your pajamas. You grabbed your phone and switched it back on. Nobody would be looking for you. There would be no messages. Except there was. A few missed calls and a text. From an unknown number.

Please let me know that you got home ok.

Your fingers hovered over the phone. Before you could reply a calendar invite popped up.

Meeting. 8pm. Monday night. Steve Rogers office.

Accept or Decline?

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america smut #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #chris evans fanfic #dark!chris evans #dark!chris evans x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve #dark!steve x reader

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours (II)

Content: part 2 to an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time!! includes a karaoke bar in Cleveland, Ohio, sharing of motel rooms (oh my god there was only one bed 👁️👁️), and a lesbian wedding in the Catskills

Warnings: language, alcohol, NSFW content, making fun of Nebraska and The Notebook

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 32k

A/N: okay can I just say that I am so glad this is finally done. I have been working on this fic for over a month!!! the entire thing is over 51k in length!!!!!! my word doc is almost 100 pages!!!! this was meant to be a fun story about enemies to lovers stuck on a road trip!!!!! what happened!!!! but thank you guys so much for all the love and support and interest in this story <3 I was really nervous about splitting it up (which looking back was a good choice because again. it’s so long.) but you all showed so much love for the story and the characters!!!! I’d like to give a special shout out to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for proof reading, and miss andrea again for this pretty header image!! if you’re looking for any good reads after this, I highly recommend checking out their masterlists!! and as always, if you like this fic, please like it AND reblog it!! and shoot me a message about it!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by ALL content creators, and is the main motivation for us to create more for you all to enjoy!!

{masterlist}

{masterlist}

here is everyone’s wedding looks!! and HERE is a lil moodboard of Jo and Laure’s wedding so you can sense the vibes!!

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

It’s almost instantaneous, Y/N notices, how quickly and easily she and Harry fall into a rhythm of friendship. From the moment she wakes up the next morning to a blue sky, the storm long passed, and Harry holding out a cup of black coffee for her, the stress and anxiety of the previous day is gone. There’s no watching herself around Harry, biting her tongue to stop herself from snapping over every small motion he makes as he fidgets in the driver’s seat.  There’s no irritation caused by the way he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, or how he asks any question that crosses his mind, speaking out his random chain of thoughts just as often.  

The thing that Y/N’s come to realize is that Harry is so much more interesting than she’d ever thought. He’s certainly more interesting than the endless fields of corn that whip by her window as he drives down the interstate.  His jokes are dumb, but he says them with such a big grin on his face that she can’t help but laugh.  His comments are strange, but Y/N finds herself enjoying the weird words that slip from his mouth without being caught by a filter.

“If we were in a Children of The Corn situation,” Harry begins, raising his voice to be heard over the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel. “Do you think you’d be able to outsmart the cult?  Or would you get sacrificed to He Who Walks Behind the Rows?”

Y/N half chokes on the bottle of water she’d just raised to her lips, and coughs the liquid from her lungs as she turns to give Harry an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

“We’re in Nebraska. That’s where it takes place, right?” Harry asks, glancing at Y/N from behind his sunglasses. “There’s, like, a weird child cult, and they kill all the adults in town for the corn harvest, or something, and then this couple on a road trip discovers them, and tries to stop them.  Do you think you’d be able to?”

“Do I think I’d be able to stop a child cult?  Or would I get sacrificed to their weird corn god?  That’s what you’re asking me?” Although she can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of the question, her mind is already appraising the situation Harry’s proposed. “I think I’d be able to stop them.  They’re just kids, right?  You just can’t be afraid to—you know—” Y/N drags her thumb across her throat, and Harry quirks up an eyebrow at her casual response.

“You’d kill a bunch of kids?”

“If the kids were evil and wanted to kill me?  Absolutely.” Y/N leans her head back on the head rest, still keeping her eyes locked on Harry. “Wouldn’t you?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in response. “I don’t know.  I’d try to reason with them, I think.”

Y/N extends a finger gun at him, clicking her tongue in sync with the motion. “And that’s why they’d sacrifice you and not me.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head slowly as he turns his attention back to the road. “Lovely. Wouldn’t you try to save me?”

Y/N hums, pretending to think the question over. “That depends on how annoying you’ve been that day.”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Y/N, you really are.” Harry laughs more, but stops abruptly as he spots a sign to the right of the road. “Oh!  There’s a souvenir shop at the next exit!”

A groan falls from Y/N’s mouth as her head flops back, already sensing defeat. “No, Harry, you don’t need another keychain—”

“You don’t know that! Maybe I could get a corn stalk keychain!”

…

“You know, I could drive for a bit.  If you’d like.”

Harry looks up at Y/N with an apprehensive gaze, his nimble fingers halfway through attaching a new silver key chain in the shape of Nebraska to his key ring. “What?”

“You’ve been driving for three days straight.” Y/N leans over the passenger side of the car, resting her arms on the sun-warmed roof. “I could drive.  I know how to; I just don’t do it in L.A. because the traffic is annoying. But the interstate is practically empty, so…”

“Uh, no offense, Y/N, but…” Harry opens the drivers door, a small smile curving the corner of his lip. “No one drives Stevie but me.  And besides, she’s a stick.  Have you ever driven one?”

“Well, no.” Y/N admits, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “But you could show me.”

Harry inhales deeply, glancing around the souvenir shop parking lot.  Y/N can tell he’s surveying the area, searching for a reason to say no, but as far as she can tell, there isn’t one.  There are no other cars around, and the area is mostly flat, giving her a good space to practice driving in.  With a defeated look on his face, Harry exhales sharply and gives a quick nod as he takes a step back from the driver’s side. “Fine.  Get in.”

Y/N and Harry swap sides in the car, although Y/N is much more enthusiastic about it than Harry is. From the moment she climbs in and begins adjusting his seat, a pained look comes over Harry’s face, making her roll her eyes.

“Oh, come on.  You’re a giant, Harry, I have to adjust things so I can reach the pedals.” Y/N scoffs, reaching up to adjust the rear view mirror. “You can put them all back later.”

“Yeah.” Harry sucks in another breath before pushing his sunglasses up into his chestnut curls. “Okay, so…there’s three pedals on the floor.  The right one is gas, the middle is the brake, and the left is the clutch. And then here—” Harry takes Y/N’s right hand and places it over the gear shift. “This is how you shift.  There’s six gears, right?  And their use depends on the speed you’re going, so you’re going to start with one—” His hand squeezes hers as he shifts the gear shift over and up to the left with ease. “Which is here.  Here’s two—” He shifts the gear shift down to the left, and continues to move it as he speaks. “Three.  Four.  Five. And reverse.  Got it?”

“I think so.” Y/N nods, her hand flexing beneath Harry’s large palm.  His rings feel cool against her warm skin, and she has to admit, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. “Up left, down left, up middle, down middle, up right, down right.  Right?”

“Right.” Harry lifts his hand off hers to point towards her feet, which are sitting on the carpet cover in front of the pedals. “You want to start with your foot pressed firmly on the clutch, the one—yeah.  There, to the left.  Keep it pressed there.  Is it pressed there?”

“Since you first told me to press it, yeah.” Y/N furrows her brow in concentration, which is caused both from learning how to drive manually, and the effort it takes to stop herself from laughing at the nervousness in Harry’s voice. “Now what?”

“Take off the parking brake.” Harry pulls the lever down himself, making sure Y/N is focused on her other movements. “And the car is in neutral, so you can turn the key in the ignition.” He holds out his keys towards her.

Y/N takes the cool metal from his hands, quickly finding the right key for the Impala and slipping it in. The car roars to life, a sound which is now familiar to her ears. “Okay.  There.”

“Good.” Harry pauses for a moment before reaching across Y/N’s body and buckling her seatbelt, which she had forgotten in the excitement to drive. “Safety first.” He sits back in the passenger seat, fixing his seatbelt across his own body. “I have a feeling we’ll be needing these.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N sticks her tongue out at him, her eyebrows and nose wrinkling as she makes a face. “What do I do now?”

“Now…” Harry fidgets with his seatbelt again as he moves forward in the passenger seat, one hand bracing against the dash as he directs her. “Press the clutch and the brake at the same time, like that.  Now move the gear shift into first gear.”

Y/N does as he says, pushing the gear shift over and up to the left.  It takes much more pressure for her to move it without Harry’s help, she notes, but doesn’t let the effort show on her face. “Then?”

“Take your foot off the brake.” Harry instructs, caution laced through his voice. “And slowly—slowly! —release the clutch as you press down gently on the gas.”

“Okay…” Lifting her left foot first, Y/N does her best to match the motion with her right foot, pressing down at the same pace as she lifts the other.  Her movement, however, isn’t as smooth as she wants it to be, and the car lunges forward in a choppy motion.

“Careful!” Harry says loudly, twisting his body to face Y/N as he continues bracing himself.  His entire body is tense, his shoulders practically up by his ears as he appraises Y/N. “You have to do it at the same time!”

“Alright, alright—” Y/N tries again, focusing on matching her feet to each other.  This time, the movement is smoother, and the car begins to drive forward slowly, moving faster as Y/N presses down more. “Is that—am I doing it?” Y/N asks nervously, navigating herself slowly through the parking lot. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.  You’re doing good, yeah.” Harry nods slowly, but Y/N can see the strain in his jaw from the corner of her eye. “Now let’s try…let’s try shifting gears, so you can speed up.”

“Try not to sound so terrified.” Y/N mutters, turning the wheel to guide the car around a lamp post.

Harry ignores her comment. “You’re going to do the same motion, but this time release the gas while pressing down on the clutch.  Then move the gear shifter to two, like before, and—”

Before Harry can finish speaking, Y/N attempts to change into second gear.  The car lurches again as she releases the gas and presses on the clutch, and the jagged motion only gets worse after she shifts into second.

“Slowly, Y/N—” Agitation is clear in Harry’s voice, and his knuckles turn white as he grips the dash. “Slower!”

Another lunge of the car shifts Y/N to the side, and her foot slips off the clutch completely. With a sickening sound, the car lurches to a stop, despite Y/N’s foot still pressed on the gas.  “What—?”

Harry, who’s been wincing throughout the entire ordeal, sucks in a sharp breath. “You stalled her.” He says, shaking his head with a quiet horror.

Y/N tugs on her bottom lip as she glances at him from the corner of her eye, her voice hesitant. “Is…that bad?”

“Is that—?” Harry’s green irises snap to meet hers, wide open and shocked. “Yeah, it’s bad. That’s enough practice for today, I think.  I’m driving again.”

Y/N tries to protest. “But—”

“Nope!  Out!” Harry shakes his head firmly, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car in one swift motion. “Come on!”

With a defeated sigh, Y/N unbuckles herself, climbing out of the driver’s door that Harry’s just opened for her.  “Sorry.” She mumbles, walking around to the passenger’s side and climbing back in.

Harry gives her a small smile, albeit a pained one, as he begins to move his feet over the brake and clutch, shifting the car into neutral. “It’s fine.  That was pretty good for a first practice, really. Just…maybe it’s too soon for highway driving.”

Y/N buckles her seatbelt as Harry restarts the engine, and within a few minutes, he has his signal flipped back on to head back to the highway. “You know, mostly I wanted to drive so that I could pick the music.” She says casually, resting her chin in her hand after propping it up against the arm rest. “I’m getting a little tired of The Beatles on repeat.”

Harry laughs, raking his hand through his curls before shifting gears with ease. “Oh really?  What would you put on, if you had a choice?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugs, taking a moment to think. “We could listen to a nice sonata, maybe. Oh!  Or Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.  I haven’t listened to it in full in a while.”

A sound of surprise and indignation leaves Harry’s mouth. “Tchaikovsky—?  No!  No, you can’t listen to classical music on a road trip!  You need music that you can scream the lyrics to!”

“Is there a rulebook about what you can and can’t listen to on a road trip?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she poses the sarcastic question. “I wasn’t aware.”

“There’s an unofficial rulebook, yes.” Harry risks a glance over at Y/N, his green eyes alight. “And one of the most important—if not the most important—rules is that any song you listen to has to be able to be sung loudly while driving down a highway. Everyone knows that.”

“My bad.” Y/N says sarcastically, toeing off her shoes to better cross her legs beneath herself. “So, in short, we’re stuck listening to your playlist, huh?”

“Now you get it.” Harry shoots her a cheeky grin, pointing with his free hand. “You can change the song, though.  If you’d like.”

“Really?” Y/N reaches down to the small catch all tray between them, where Harry’s phone sits connected to a car charger.  She picks it up carefully, raising an eyebrow in question. “May I?”

When Harry nods, Y/N clicks on the screen, which displays the controls to the Spotify playlist currently being projected through the car’s speakers.  Unsurprisingly, a Beatles song is moving across the scene, causing Y/N to press the skip button immediately.  The next song is by The Killers, called “Spaceman,” and while she likes it, it’s not really something she feels like listening to in the moment. She hits skip again, passing over “Night Moves,” “Piano Man,” and “Seven Wonders,” (the last skip earning a sound of protest from Harry) before a familiar album cover pops up on the screen.

“Hold on.” Y/N says, mouth agape as the 1990s Vocoder sound fills the car. “You listen to Cher?”

“Are you kidding?” Harry’s surprised expression matches hers. “Of course!  She’s a treasure.” He taps his fingers to the beat of “Believe” while his head bops to the same pattern. “I love this song.  It’s a good one.”

Making a sound of agreement, Y/N lets her gaze drift to the window, watching the agriculture fields that whiz by. “Yeah.” She murmurs, losing herself in the beat. “‘No matter how hard I try…you keep pushing me aside’…”

“‘And I can’t break through’…” Harry’s voice joins with hers, louder and surer of himself than hers had been. “‘There’s no talking to you’…”

Y/N’s head turns from the window, locking eyes with Harry for the split second he looks away from the road ahead of them. “‘It’s so sad that you’re leaving…it takes time to believe it’…”

“‘But after all is said and done’…” The grin playing on Harry’s pink lips grows, popping out his dimples as he continues to sing. “‘You’re gonna be the lonely one’…”

With a grin pasted across her own face, so big that her cheeks ache, Y/N joins Harry for the chorus, yelling the lyrics more than singing them. “‘Do you believe in life after love?  I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!” Harry’s hand drifts down to the volume dial, turning the music up until the bass thumps through the entire car.  Y/N can feel it in her chest like a second heart beat.

“‘Do you believe in life after love?’” Encouraged by each other, Harry and Y/N scream the lyrics even louder on the repeat, straining their necks as much as their vocal cords. “‘I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!”

When Harry’s hand moves again, Y/N thinks that he’s reaching for the dial again, perhaps to turn it down, but then his hand makes a questioning motion, and Y/N realizes that Harry, ever the one for dramatics, is acting out the lines.

“‘What was I supposed to do?  Sit around and wait for you?’” Harry points at Y/N then, an exaggerated look on his face as his whole body moves to the beat. “‘Well I can’t do that!  And there’s no turning back’…”

Not wanting to be one upped, Y/N pushes up the sleeve of her sweater, exposing her wrist enough that she can tap on it. “‘I need time to move on’…” A fit of giggles interrupt the next line as she and Harry both raise their arms to flex their muscles. “‘I need a love to feel strong’…” Y/N taps on her temple as she sways her body to the beat the best she can in the car. “‘Because I’ve got time to think it through’…” When she turns to point at Harry, she finds him already pointing at her, once again in sync with her thoughts. “‘And maybe I’m too good for you, oh’!”

They repeat the chorus in the same way as before, screaming the lyrics as loud as they can, pulling dramatic facial expressions and dance moves to match.  Halfway through the repeat, Harry attempts to mimic the classic Cher move of pushing hair over the shoulder, and the ridiculous sight is enough to send Y/N into another fit of laughter.  She almost misses the entrance for the bridge, but recovers just in time to yell the lyrics in sync with Harry.

Forming fists and dragging her arms towards her dramatically, and Harry doing the same with his free hand, the two of them screw their faces up as they sing passionately. “‘Well I know that I’ll get through this…because I know that I am strong’…” The flexing of arms returns for a moment before being replaced by impassioned pleading hand gestures. “‘I don’t need you anymore…I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore’…”

Although they’d been energetic in the previous choruses, Harry and Y/N give their all for the final chorus, bouncing and yelling and gesturing as much as they can as they drive down the interstate at sixty-five miles per hour.  They quiet for a moment as the beat falls out, singing the lyrics at a slightly lower volume, but when the beat returns, they scream the lyrics one final time in unison before the music fades out.

The song changes to “Baby Driver,” and Harry reaches to lower the volume as he and Y/N both struggle to catch their breath.  They laugh between pants, hands on chests as they rapidly rise and fall.  Y/N lets her head fall back against the back of the seat, shifting her legs so only one rests on the seat beneath her thigh.

“That was a good one.” She admits, pushing her now-sweaty hair out of her face. “I’ll give you that. Cher was a good choice.”

“Do you see what I meant, now?” Harry asks breathlessly, his grin still plastered to his face. “Do you still want to listen to Tchaikovsky?”

In lieu of a reply, Y/N reaches for Harry’s phone again, skipping songs until “Jessie’s Girl” begins to drift through the speakers. “Turn it up again, Harry.”

There’s a twinkle in Harry’s eyes when he does as she says.

…

“I can sleep on the floor.” Harry volunteers, tugging his hand through his stretched out curls as his eyes scan the interior of the motel room. “Make a little bed out of pillows.  Then you can have the bed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, setting her bag on the small table in front of the room’s mirror. “You can’t sleep on the floor!”

Harry purses his lips. “I’ll take the chair, then.  I can stretch out on it—”

“Please, you have limbs like Gumby.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N unzips her bag and pulls out her toiletries. “You can’t sleep comfortably in a chair.  We can deal with one bed for one night.  It’s not the end of the world.”

Four days ago, Y/N might have considered having to share a bed with Harry the end of the world.  If someone had told her about the lack of available motel rooms on the road, Y/N might have never left L.A.  And that first night in Utah, she remembers, she would have rather smother Harry in his sleep than share a bed with him.  Now, however, they’re in Iowa City, and for all her talk of how much she despised Harry before, she’s found herself quite fond of him in a short period of time.

There’s a list of reasons why that’s happened, she thinks, as she pulls out her charger to plug into the wall.  Their forced close proximity in the car and motel rooms probably has something to do with it, as well as Harry being her only company for the last four days.  And maybe, just maybe, a small part of it is due to the way Harry looks in the dim motel room light as he flops back on the bed, his red and black striped t-shirt riding up just the slightest bit to expose the fern tattoos lining the bottom of his stomach.  The way his jade irises manage to sparkle in the light of the lamp, or how his chipped nail polish still manages to look elegant as his fingers dance along his chest and twist his rings over his knuckles.  The way his lips, despite his constant habit of biting them, look so soft and so pink, and how Y/N thinks she could just—

Y/N clears her throat, stopping her thoughts in their tracks.  It’s really been too long since she’s been around another human being, she thinks, keeping her back to Harry as she roots through her suitcase for her pajamas. Four days is too long for her to be with the same person, with hardly any alone time, and she’s wondering if she’ll be able to have alone time any time soon when her fingers brush over the familiar smooth silicone surface of her vibrator.

Y/N pauses, pulling her fingers back as if she’s been burned.  Right.  She’d tossed that in there just before leaving L.A., just in case she needed some stress relief.  Glancing back over her shoulder subtly, Y/N sees that Harry has his phone out now, his nimble fingers tapping along the screen as he lays on the bed.  Maybe some stress relief is exactly what she needs.

Grabbing the first articles of clothing she can get her hands on, Y/N carefully wraps her vibrator within the fabric, trying to fold it so that it doesn’t look like its hiding a small purple sex toy.  Once that’s done to the best of her ability, she grabs her toiletry bag, tucking it under her arm as she quickly makes her way to the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower.” She mutters, closing the door behind her without waiting for Harry’s response.

Although the ritual of stripping from her clothes, starting the shower and adjusting the temperature settings, and relaxing her muscles underneath the (albeit low pressure) stream of water is familiar, it takes Y/N a few minutes to work up the courage to run her hands down the length of her body.  She takes her time as her fingers dance over the planes of her breasts, down her stomach, fluttering over her hips before making their way to the crevice where her thighs flow into her core.  Taking a deep breath, Y/N begins with just her fingers, running them through her wet folds slowly and carefully.

She allows herself the time to warm herself up, waiting until she can dip her index finger inside her slick entrance and circle its way around her clit before grabbing her vibrator from the shower ledge.  She flicks it on to its lowest setting, making sure the electronic buzz is hidden beneath the sound of the shower before gently circling the tip around her clit.

The relief, Y/N finds, is instantaneous.  A breathless sigh slips past her lips as she rubs the toy over her folds, delighting in the fluttering sensation it leaves behind.  Without breaking contact, Y/N turns the toy up a level, biting her lip to keep from moaning as she presses it back to her clit.

Despite the tension building up in her body as Y/N works herself to an orgasm, this is the most relaxed she’s felt in days.  The tension, she finds, is so much sweeter than the anxiety and stress she’s been experiencing throughout the road trip.  Although her shoulders tense, it’s different than the knots worked into her muscles from hours in the car.  Although her leg feels as though it may cramp from its position perched on the bath tub ledge, the burn is more welcome than the ache of being stuck in one seated position.

If someone were to ask her what crossed her mind when Y/N brought herself over the edge, what thoughts drifted into her head as she gripped the wall of the shower with one hand as her core convulsed in the most delightfully sinful way, Y/N would tell them that it was nothing specific.  Strong hands, she’d say, smoothly and knowledgeably caressing her body.  A low voice whispering dirty nothings in her ear. A deep breath flowing down her neck as cherry lips and white teeth nipped and kissed down her skin and across her collar bones.  Nothing specific.  And Y/N would believe it when she’d say it.

But if anyone were to be listening at the exact moment that she thrust the vibrator inside her, panting and whimpering as her index and middle finger worked over her clit and brought her to climax, they’d hear the breathless whisper of a name that Y/N herself didn’t even know she was saying.

The nice thing about getting off in the shower, Y/N thinks, once she’s regained enough function in her head to do so, is that cleanup is a breeze.  Within fifteen more minutes, Y/N’s washed her body, shampooed and conditioned her hair, and is climbing out of the shower with the motel towel wrapped tightly around her body.  Within another few minutes, she’s towel dried to the best of her ability, and finally realizing that the pajamas she’d grabbed in her quick bid for the washroom happened to be the pink silk set that she’d tucked at the bottom of her suitcase four days ago.

Cheeks burning, Y/N weighs her options.  She could wrap the towel around herself, she thinks, and instruct Harry to look away as she snuck back to her suitcase and grabbed the sports bra and boxers she’d been sleeping in for the past few nights.  Or…she runs her fingers over the lace trim of the set.  These pajamas were quite comfortable, and the silk would feel so nice on her body after multiple nights of scratching motel sheets.  And, if she’s being honest with herself, her other pajamas are quite dirty from a new nights of use.  Now that her body feels completely relaxed and clean, she’d like to put on something to match.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Y/N does her best to seem casual and calm, still running her towel through her set hair, her clothes and toiletry bag (where she’s hidden her vibrator) tucked under one arm. “The shower’s free.” She says to Harry, barely glancing at him as she returns her items to her bag. “Although the water pressure is pretty shit.”

A low chuckle echoes from Harry’s mouth. “I expect nothing less.” He says, and Y/N thinks she may be in the clear when the laughter stops abruptly.

Biting back a sigh, Y/N straightens her back, knowing that she can’t avoid the conversation forever. “What?” She asks, tossing her towel on the motel room chair.

Harry is sitting up on the bed, his phone still held loosely in his right hand as his left props his body into an upright position.  As his eyes scan over Y/N’s body, his tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his lips without Harry being aware he’s doing it. “What—” His voice cracks, and a flush creeps up Harry’s pale neck as he clears his throat. “What are you wearing?”

Y/N begins to comb her fingers through her hair, sectioning it off before she begins to braid. “Pajamas.”

A scoff leaves Harry’s mouth. “No, no, those aren’t pajamas.  That’s…lingerie.”

“Yeah, well…I brought them as pajamas.” Y/N mumbles, twisting her hair into the desired pattern before tying it off with the ponytail on her wrist. “Look, I—my other ones are dirty, and I didn’t want to put a sweaty sports bra back on right after showering.  But…if it makes you uncomfortable, then I can—”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Harry cuts over her, giving a quick shake of his head. “I just—we’re sharing the bed tonight, so I wasn’t sure—as long as you’re comfortable—”

“I am.” Y/N says quickly, cheeks beginning to burn as the conversation continues. “I’m comfortable.”

“Alright then.” If Harry’s cheeks are any indication, then he’s feeling the same thing Y/N is. “I’m…going to shower, then.”

And that’s how, two hours later, after watching a rerun of When Harry Met Sally, Y/N ends up in bed next to Harry Styles in lingerie that she’d bought to impress her ex-boyfriend.

Harry, to his credit, is doing his best to draw a line between them.  His lanky body is practically hanging off the edge of the bed with how far he’s pulled himself from her, his defined back turned towards Y/N. Her own posture mimics his, back turned from Harry, clinging to the edge of the bed in an attempt to respect his personal space.  The problem, Y/N thinks, exhaling hard as she shifts under the covers, is that she doesn’t like sleeping on her side like this, and she especially doesn’t like tensing up to make sure her limbs stay in their designated zone.  It feels awkward and uncomfortable, and after laying in bed for over an hour, she finally huffs before turning onto her back, her hands settling down over the sheets.

“Harry.” She whispers, twisting her head to the side as she struggles to make out the shape of his body in the dark. “Are you awake?”

The bed creaks as Harry’s body shifts towards her, twisting on his hip to be able to meet Y/N’s eyes. “Yeah.  Can’t sleep.”

“Me either.” Y/N rolls over again, propping herself up on her side to face him as he matches the motion. They’re closer now, their faces about six inches away as they rest their heads on their pillows.  Y/N can smell the mint of Harry’s toothpaste on his breath. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Harry shrugs one shoulder as best he can while horizontal. “Dunno.” He mumbles, voice low in the quiet darkness. “Don’t think I’m used to sharing a bed with someone and not…being close to them.”

“Yeah.” Y/N matches the tone of her voice to his, as if speaking quietly and gently will preserve whatever it is hanging between them. “Feels weird.”

Moving his hands from his chest to tuck them under his pillow, Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous look apparent in his eyes even in the darkness. “Would it be okay if I moved closer?” He asks, caution written into every word. “It’s just—staying on the edge isn’t very comfortable.”

Four days ago, Y/N would have shoved him off the bed.  Now, however, she finds herself nodding, pulling her top leg into a bent position, her bare knee brushing over Harry’s beneath the sheets. “That’s fine.”

Y/N watches the way Harry’s body visibly relaxes, the tension she didn’t even know he had leaving his body.  Trying his best to move without disturbing her, Harry turns over to lay on his toned stomach, and the sheets pull down around his body enough that Y/N can see how his Rolling Stones t-shirt has ridden up his back.  Without thinking, Y/N pulls one hand from beneath her pillow and reaches for the sheets, pulling them back around Harry to his mid back.

“Thanks.” His voice is raspy, half muffled by the pillow as he tucks his hands beneath his head, eyes still locked with hers with an intensity that, during daylight hours, would have made her cheeks burn.

But in the safety of the darkness, Y/N simply returns her hand to its previous position, allowing the lack of light to masquerade the concern written onto her face. “You’re welcome.”

…

“I’m not saying The Notebook is a bad movie, I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense!”

Harry gives Y/N an incredulous look as he flips on his turn signal, shifting gears in the car so he can exit the highway and head towards a gas station. “What do you mean, it doesn’t make sense?” He demands, turning the car over the curve of the road. “They’re in love!  Noah reads to Ally to help her remember that!  What about that doesn’t make sense?”

“Well, the dialogue for one.” Y/N shrugs, tapping her fingers to the beat of “Heroes” that’s drifting through the speakers.

Harry scoffs as he pulls into an empty gas station, slowing the car to a gentle stop in front of a pump. “Give me one example of the dialogue not making sense!”

“‘If you’re a bird, I’m a bird’?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she quotes the movie. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“What do you mean, what does it mean?” Harry demands, shifting the car into neutral and pulling the emergency brake before turning off the ignition. “It’s romantic!  It’s talking about—about reincarnation, and past lives—”

“And what about how Noah and Ally first met, huh?  She was on a date with someone else!  She wasn’t interested in him!” As she rants, Y/N’s volume grows, almost drowning out David Bowie completely. “And then he climbed up a Ferris wheel, demanded that she go out with him, and said that if she didn’t, he was going to kill himself!”

Harry points an accusatory finger at her, his expression fierce. “Don’t!  It was romantic—”

Y/N pushes his finger away, holding her stance adamantly. “It was creepy!  And don’t even get me started on the arguments, and the lying, and—and she was engaged to someone else!  Noah was a homewrecker!”

Harry takes a deep breath, squeezing his keys in his hand as his eyes close for a moment. “I’m going to fill Stevie with petrol.” He says, his tone careful and controlled. “And when I get back, I am going to give you a very long lecture on why you’re wrong.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she grabs Harry’s sunglasses from the cupholder next to her, slipping them onto her face as she sticks her tongue out at him. “Whatever.  Go pump the gas, Styles.”

With one last withering look, Harry climbs out of the car and slams the door behind him, turning his attention to the rusted gas pump in the middle of nowhere along the Illinois interstate.  Y/N can’t help but laugh at the irritated look on his face, and how he flips her the bird when he catches her laughing.  Small giggles still roll through her as she turns her attention to Harry’s phone, choosing a new song as David Bowie slowly begins to fade out. She’s just begun scrolling through her options when her own phone begins to vibrate from where she has it tucked underneath her leg.

Y/N sets Harry’s phone back down on his seat as she grabs her own, her eyes widening when she sees Brant’s name lighting up her screen.  She should answer, she thinks, as she hasn’t spoken to him in person since their conversation in Colorado.  That conversation seems like a lifetime ago, and Y/N’s thumb hovers over the “accept” icon, her teeth tugging her bottom lip over and over.  She should answer.  She should.  Brant will probably want to discuss work, and find out when she’s coming back so they can plan another dinner, because he always likes to schedule things at least a week in advance.  He’ll tell her about his coworkers, what the weather in L.A. has been like (as if it ever changes), and maybe, just maybe, if he has time, he’ll tell her about a new Netflix series he’s just starting to watch.  Y/N should answer.

The driver’s side door opens with a creak, and Harry bends down to poke his head inside. “Alright, I’m going to go inside the petrol station and get us some snacks, and then I’m going to explain to you exactly how wrong you are.” He says firmly, mouth pressed into a flat line of determination.  His expression falters for just a moment as he sees the conflicted look on Y/N’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Y/N says quickly, pressing “ignore” and tucking her phone back under her leg. “Just go get the snacks while I create my counterargument, alright?”

Harry rolls his eyes, reaching into the car and pulling his sunglasses off Y/N’s face.  He slips them over his own eyes, his expression back to its determined look. “Fine.  Do you want Cheezies?”

“Uh huh.  The crunchy ones!” Y/N reminds him, grabbing his phone from the seat again to continue selecting a new song.

“Right.  The crunchy ones.” Harry shoots her a finger gun as he shuts the car door. “You can eat them as I prove you wrong!”

“You wish!” Y/N yells back, the phone call all but forgotten as she watches Harry walk into the gas station.

…

“We should go out tonight.”

Y/N sets her duffel bag on the queen-sized bed situated in the center of the motel room, giving Harry a confused look as she registers his words. “Go out?” She asks, tugging on the zipper of the bag. “Go out where?”

“To a bar.” Harry flops down on the bed next to her bag, leaning back on his elbows as he speaks. “All we’ve done this entire trip is drive, and we’re getting to the Catskills tomorrow.  We can have a bit of fun tonight, can’t we?”

Y/N snorts as she rifles through her bag, pulling out her phone charger and favourite book. “It’s a road trip; driving is the point, isn’t it?  Besides, what kind of bars are in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Harry shrugs lightly. “We passed a sign for one on our way into town.  And we haven’t had dinner yet, so we should go get something to eat anyways.  And I haven’t had a pint in forever.”

“I doubt you’ll like the pints from a dive bar in Cleveland, Harry.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plugs her charger into the wall. “I don’t think they’ll be up to your standards.”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Harry matches her eye roll with ease before turning his expression into something more endearing. “Please?  We don’t have to stay too long if you don’t want to!”

Y/N sighs as she sits down on the bed next to him. “Harry—”

“Just one drink!” Harry pleads, pouting out his bottom lip. “Please?  To celebrate not killing each other on this trip?”

In spite of herself, a small laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “The trip’s not over yet, Harry.  Don’t count your eggs before they hatch.”

“Y/N…” Harry whines, turning onto his side as he looks up at her. “Come on!”

Y/N tugs her lip between her teeth as she looks down at Harry.  It’s true, she thinks, that all they’ve done for the last five days is drive and sleep in motels.  Maybe they could use a break before tomorrow’s final day.  And they’ve been getting along so well today that Y/N would hate to put a damper on their moods now…

“Fine.” She relents, ignoring how there’s a turning feeling in her stomach when she sees Harry’s green eyes light up. “But just one drink!”

…

“I’ll take another Old Fashioned, please!” Y/N says to the waitress, raising her voice to be heard over the man singing a bad cover of “Take on Me” on the small bar stage. “And—Harry, do you want another?”

Harry bites back a laugh, barely managing to cover it with a cough as the waitress turns to him. “Uh, yes, please.” He smiles charmingly, flashing his eyes to Y/N between his words. “I’ll have another pint.”

With a quick nod, the waitress begins to work her way from their table to the bar, pushing through the crowds of people scattered around the bar.  

Y/N leans over to Harry as she twirls her straw through the remnants of ice in her empty glass. “You picked a good bar!” She says loudly, gesturing to the people around them. “Who knew this would be the center of Cleveland’s drinking scene?”

“I did!  I have good taste!” Harry replies with a laugh, lifting his pint glass to his lips to drain the remnants. “And here I was, thinking that you’d be whining to go home after the first drink!”

There’s something about the way Harry says “home” that turns Y/N’s stomach.  Or maybe it’s the Old Fashioneds, she thinks, as she eyes the three empty glasses sitting in front of her. “Oh.  Yeah.  Maybe we should go…?”

Harry groans, waving off her suggestion without a second thought. “No!  We’re having fun!  When was the last time you went out?”

“Uh…” The alcohol makes it hard for Y/N to think back in her memory, but she does her best to focus for a few moments to search for the answer. “I think…a few months ago?  Jo came to visit, and we went out for drinks…”

“That’s just sad.” Harry shakes his head, feigning disappointment.  Or maybe not feigning it, Y/N thinks, because a deep sigh leaves his lips right after. “You live in L.A., a place with so much culture and so many opportunities, and you don’t take them!”

“I take opportunities just fine!” Y/N defends herself, a pout working its way onto her lips of its own volition. “I’m just busy—”

“You’re always going to be busy!” Harry argues as the waitress approaches them with their drinks. “You—thank you—” He says to her as she hands him his pint and Y/N her Old Fashioned. “You have to take time for yourself, to enjoy things!  Or else life is just going to pass you by, and soon you’ll be old and grey in your apartment, with no cool stories to tell!”

Y/N takes the straw from her previous drink and slips it in her new one. “I have stories!” She argues hotly, a flush coming over her face from both the alcohol and the argument. “I have plenty of stories!”

Harry takes a gulp from his pint, wiping away the drop of beer that drips from the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah?  Tell me one.”

“Like—” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “Like now!  The story of how I had to go on a road trip with a guy I hated to make it to my best friend’s wedding on time!”

“I’m not really a fan of that title, honestly.” Harry purses his lips, his brow furrowing as he sets his pint back down on the table. “How about we call it the story of how you had to go on a road trip with a guy you hated to make it to your best friend’s wedding on time, and along the way, you and the guy actually realized that you got along pretty well, and became friends?”

A small smile plays on Y/N’s lips, and she raises her glass towards Harry. “Sounds like a plan.” She says softly, barely audible over the noise of the crowd.  Harry lifts his pint glass and clicks it against her drink.

They both take a sip of their drinks, and when Harry lowers his glass, there’s a mischievous glint in his eye that immediately makes Y/N uneasy. “I have another idea for a story.” He says, setting his glass down and pointing towards the stage. “How about the story of us singing karaoke at a bar in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Y/N snorts, half folding herself over their table as the snort turns into a full laugh. “Not a chance in hell, Styles!” She says through her laughter, tapping her fingers against the wood table top.

Harry pushes her shoulder, making her sit up again as he tries to convince her. “Come on!  We’ve been singing in the car for two days straight! There’s tons of songs we could do—”

“The car is completely different than a stage!” Y/N argues, shaking her head firmly. “No way!”

“What, are you worried about making a fool of yourself?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he gestures around the bar. “Is there anyone you know in the audience?  The audience that’s full of people who are pissed out of their minds?”

Biting her lip hard for a moment, Y/N gives a reluctant shake of her head. “No.” She mumbles, looking down. “But I just—I don’t sing karaoke.”

“And you didn’t spend five days in the car with me, either.  Until you did, and we had fun.” Harry points a ringed pointer finger at her, and the annoying glint in his eye means he knows he has her trapped. “There is literally no better place to try it than right now, in this bar, where you know no one.”

Y/N glances around the bar, appraising her surroundings.  She knows Harry has a point; besides himself, she knows not a single soul in the building.  They’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, and she won’t ever find herself in this bar—or, honestly, Cleveland, Ohio—again.  If there was ever a time to try karaoke, it would be now.  

And hasn’t this trip been full of trying new things?  New foods, new conversations, new ways of thinking…Y/N finds herself locking eyes with Harry, losing herself in his intense gaze.  Y/N’s not sure what’s swirling around in his irises, whether it’s alcohol or something else entirely, but it’s intoxicating.

Y/N lets out a harsh exhale, pulling the straw out of her drink and downing it entirely in one swift motion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she slams the glass back on the table before looking back at Harry to find a new grin pasted across his pink lips.

“Alright.” Y/N slips off her stool, stumbling for just a moment until Harry catches her elbow. “You go pick the song.” She says, pointing towards the DJ near the stage. “I-I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

Harry nods, catching his lip between his teeth as his hand squeezes her arm. “Are you alright?  You stumbled there—”

“I’m fine!  Perfect, actually.” Y/N assures him, pulling away and walking towards the washroom.  She calls over her shoulder to him as she does. “Go pick the song!  I’ll be back in a moment!”

When Y/N reaches the washroom, she’s surprised to find it empty, and she’s even more surprised when she catches her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Is that really her? She wonders, propping herself up on the counter as she leans closer to examine herself.  Her skin is flushed from the alcohol, all across her cheeks and neck, and it only gets warmer as the heat of the bar finally hits her. Y/N undoes the top few buttons of her plaid shirt, exposing her chest to the air.  Cocking her head to the side, Y/N studies herself for a moment before undoing the rest of the buttons and rolling up the sleeves to wear the shirt like a cardigan, leaving her bralette exposed.  It’s a different look than anything she’s ever done, but…she likes it, she realizes, as her eyes scan over her reflection.  She likes this.  Being somewhere that no one knows her, somewhere filled with people that won’t judge her for drinking too much, somewhere that she doesn’t have to worry about stories getting back to her work.  Y/N likes the wild look in her eyes, the breathlessness stirring inside her, the plumpness of her lips from the ice of her drinks.   When she looks at herself, she sees a different person. Someone she doesn’t recognize. Someone who seems to know what they want.

Her phone vibrating in her back pocket pulls her from her thoughts, and it takes Y/N a moment for her intoxicated self to manage to pull it out.  When she sees Brant’s name flashing on the screen, she only hesitates for one second before hitting decline.  That one second of hesitation, however, is all it takes to make her contemplate herself in the mirror again, second guessing what she sees.  She tucks her phone away before washing her hands, and splashes a little bit of cold water on her cheeks to help cool herself down. Giving herself one last look over, Y/N buttons the few bottom buttons of her shirt back together, tying it into a neat knot to cover her stomach.  Even if no one here knows her…she can’t get too wild.  She still has to be who she is.

After exiting the bathroom, Y/N returns to the table, expecting Harry to be waiting there for her. All she finds, however, is his jacket tossed over the back of his chair, and his now empty pint glass sitting on the table. Y/N turns in a small circle, wondering where he is in the crowd when she hears his slightly slurred voice magnified over the speakers.

“Y/N.  Up here, love, c’mon.”

Y/N turns towards the stage, her eyes wide as she realizes Harry has a microphone in one hand and has the other hand wrapped around the microphone stand.  His smile is practically glowing underneath the stage lights, and his eyes seem to be doing the same.  He releases the mic stand to run a hand through his hair before beckoning her forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Cleveland, this—” Harry points towards Y/N, and she almost swears that every person in the bar turns towards her. “This is my very good friend Y/N. And five days ago, she hated my guts!” The crowd boos, and Y/N stares at Harry with incredulous eyes.  What is he doing?

“No, no, don’t boo, it’s alright.  I hated her guts too.” Harry says with a shrug, leaning against the mic stand again. “But everything’s alright now!  We’re getting along, she’s stopped being such a control freak, and she even said she would let me pick a song for us to sing tonight, isn’t that nice?”

The crowd cheers as Y/N walks towards the stage, stopping just before it to stare up at Harry as he continues his drunken monologue.  If she was sober, she’d probably pull him down from the stage, grab the front of his patterned button down shirt, and drag him back to their table.  But the alcohol running through her system is making her bold, and with her head swimming in the amber liquid she’d been consuming, all she can do is laugh and stumble her way to the stairs to the stage.

Someone wearing a t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it helps her up the stairs, handing her a microphone once she makes it onto the stage.  Harry, realizing she’s where she needs to be now, motions to the DJ behind her, and a familiar beat that Y/N can’t place begins to play.

“Harry—” Y/N speaks without raising the microphone to her lips. “What song—?”

“Don’t worry, you know it.” Harry assures her, his eyes flickering over her appearance quickly. “You look great.  Just go with it!”

There’s really no choice but to go with it, she thinks, because within a moment, Harry has a simpering smile on his face as he lifts the microphone to his lips, his body turned towards the audience but his eyes flickering to you.

“‘I wasn’t jealous before we met…now every man I see is a potential threat’.” He sings in a confident voice, and Y/N watches the split second it takes for the crowd to realize he’s actually good.  And it’s not just his voice, she thinks.  It’s his demeanor.  The part of Harry’s personality that had first irritated her, the part that lives for a spotlight, the part that can draw someone in with a snap of a finger…that part shines on a stage.

In contrast, all Y/N can do is stare with a shocked expression painted across her face as Harry continues to serenade the crowd.  He makes eye contact with specific people as he croons the next lines, his hand confidently wrapped around the microphone “‘And I’m possessive, it isn’t nice…you’ve heard me say that smoking is my only voice’.”

It’s then that Harry’s attention turns back to Y/N, his eyelids hooded, half hiding his emerald eyes as he saunters back towards her.  It’s like a switch has flipped in his head, because Y/N is certain that he’s never looked at her in this way before. “‘But now it isn’t true…now everything is new’…” The closer Harry gets to her, the less Y/N can breathe. By the time he’s a foot away from her, she feels like her breaths are stuttering in her chest, giving barely enough oxygen to her body to keep her going.  

Harry, it seems, is unaware of the affect he’s having on her.  His long limbs are loose and free as he continues to move closer, the smirk on his face intertwined with something deeper that Y/N’s drunken mind can’t quite put her finger on. “‘And all I’ve learned, has overturned…I beg of you’…”

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and sweat that emanates from Harry as he gets close enough to press his forehead to hers reminds Y/N exactly where she is, and what she’s supposed to be doing.  Just managing to bring the microphone to her lips in time, Y/N shoves Harry on his shoulder, pushing him away enough that she can walk past him and distance herself. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion’…” She sings, glancing at him over her shoulder as she moves away.  Harry watches her with darkened eyes, a hungry look on his face as Y/N begins to sway her hips to the music.  It’s fun, she realizes, being on stage like this, and playing the part with Harry as she sets down a challenge. “‘Lay all your love on me’.”

The crowd cheers as Harry begins to take measured steps towards Y/N again, looking like the cat who wants to catch the canary.  Y/N, ever the competitive player, refuses to give in so easily, and quickly extends a hand to two people sitting in front of the stage.  They give her support as she slides down from the platform, working her way through the tables without so much as a glance behind herself at Harry, who she knows is following her.

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck…a little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck’.” Y/N finally turns around, pausing her walk to see Harry hopping down from the stage. She points at him slowly, giving a small shake of her head as she sings the next line. “‘I still don’t know what you’ve done to me…a grownup woman should never fall so easily’…”

Harry’s smirk only grows, and he runs a hand haphazardly through his sweaty curls.  He’s enjoying playing the part too, and Y/N can tell by the way he allows her to cross the seating area, so that they’re walking parallel to each other towards the bar.  He’s not chasing her down.  He’s taking his time, knowing that he’ll get her in the end.

“‘I feel a kind of fear…when I don’t have you near’…” Y/N pauses at a table of two men and a woman, leaning down between the latter two.  She only takes her eyes off Harry for a moment to give a questioning look to the man, who gives her a smile of permission.  Y/N runs her fingers across his shoulder and down his arm, but keeps her eyes glued to Harry the entire time. “‘Unsatisfied, I skip my pride…I beg you dear’…”

When he sees Y/N’s fingers trace down the collar of someone else, Harry’s brow furrows in jealousy, his jade eyes shifting even darker than they were before.  He keeps pace with Y/N as she begins to move again, but there’s an air of tension in his saunter that wasn’t there a moment ago.  When he sings, it sounds like half plea, half demand. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry rounds a table of people before beginning to close the distance between him and Y/N, each of them now standing in front of the bar.  With the tension between them now palpable, the crowd is moving out of their way discreetly, watching as the two approach each other. Harry licks his red lips before singing the next line. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion…lay all your love on me’.”

Y/N releases her bottom lip from between her teeth, running her fingers over the finished wood of the bar before pulling herself to sit atop it.  She crosses her legs carefully before leaning her weight on one hand, giving a small shrug, knowing that Harry’s eyes are glued to her every motion as the bartender pours him a shot. “‘I’ve had a few little love affairs…they didn’t last very long and they’ve been pretty scarce’…”

Harry’s lips wrap around the shot glass, throwing it back just in time to sing the next line as tequila drips from the corner of his mouth.  The drop of alcohol runs down his chin to trace the muscles of his neck, and as Harry pulls himself to sit next to Y/N on the bar, the only thing she wants to do is lean forward and lick the liquor from his skin.

“‘I used to think I was sensible’…” Harry passes a newly poured shot to Y/N, meaning for her to take it from him, and he nearly stutters over his next line as Y/N wraps her hand around his own, guiding him to guide the shot to her mouth.  There’s a sharp intake of air into the microphone before Harry can sing again, and Y/N smirks at the small victory as she wipes her mouth doing her best to hide how the bitter taste of the tequila affects her. “‘It makes the truth even more incomprehensible’.”

Y/N brings her microphone to her mouth again to sing the next verse with Harry, their eyes locked together as they lean forward into each other.  Despite the cheering of the crowd, Y/N can’t help but feel as though she and Harry are the only two in the bar, as if this—very public—performance were small and intimate and just between them.

“‘Because everything is new’…” Harry grips the knot in Y/N’s plaid shirt, easily pulling it undone with one hand.  His eyes break away from hers for only a moment to canvas over her newly exposed midriff and lace bralette before snapping back to her gaze with a renewed vigor. He keeps the tails of the shirt clutched within his strong hand as he begins to lean back on the bar, pulling Y/N down with him.

“‘And everything is you’…” Y/N almost falls over before she catches herself, bracing one hand beside Harry’s head on the bar to support her weight as he lays down fully. She can feel how tightly he’s gripping her shirt by how the hem of it is pressing into her skin, and the pressure of the fabric cues another kind of pressure to begin to curl inside her stomach. When she sucks in a breath, she can taste tequila and Harry’s cologne on her tongue, and she struggles to bite back a whine while Harry wraps her shirt tighter around his hand.

“‘And all I’ve learned has overturned’…” Harry releases the wrinkled fabric of her shirt, his now freed hand trading the cloth for the skin of her exposed waist.  The coolness of his rings against her flushed skin makes Y/N’s breath stutter, and she curls her body over him more in response.  The taste of Harry’s touch has sparked a need to be closer, as well as a new fluttering in her core, and judging by the way Harry keeps licking his lips, he knows it.

Refusing to be the only one affected by their close proximity, Y/N moves her supporting hand from the bar to Harry’s hair, tugging on it harshly as Harry opens his mouth to sing the next line.  As Y/N sings “‘I beg of you’…” with a pleading glance, Harry grunts deep in his throat, just managing to pull the microphone away from his lips so that Y/N is the only one to hear it.

Although getting a reaction out of Harry was her goal, actually hearing that reaction is another story entirely.  Heat rushes to Y/N’s face as Harry grips her waist tighter, pressing her thighs and hips to his own as he guides the two of them to the beat of the music.  The cheering and wolf whistles from the crowd are the only thing that keep Y/N grounded and in the moment, reminding her that—despite how it feels—there are people watching the two of them.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry grinds his hip against Y/N’s once more, moving them in a steady and consistent pace.  Y/N repositions her body in return, spreading her legs so she can straddle Harry’s hips more easily.  She knows, though, that she needs to start pulling back.  She has to do something to get away from him, to break the trance that his touch has her in, before she does something she’ll regret.

“‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Y/N slowly sits back up, letting go of Harry’s hair in order to trail her free hand down his chest. Although she knows that she’s supposed to be distancing herself from him, she can’t resist digging her nails in just the slightest bit, delighting in the hiss that leaves his mouth. “‘Lay all your love on me’…”

Harry sits up slowly as the key changes, his eyes glued to Y/N’s lips as she sings a line by herself, her voice growing ever so slightly fainter every time Harry tugs on his red lips with his teeth, soothing the mark with his tongue a moment after. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’…”

Now that they’re both sitting upright, Harry grips their bodies and turns them so that their legs once again dangle off the bar.  Y/N can feel the blood rushing from her head as she drapes her arm over Harry’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering as Harry digs his fingertips into her waist. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Harry’s pupils are so blown that his irises practically look black.  His chest is heaving with every breath, his exposed skin flushed and sweaty.  His curls are a mess from Y/N tangling her fingers in them.  If Y/N didn’t know any better, she’d say Harry looks freshly fucked, and then she wonders if she looks the same.  By the way Harry’s looking at her, she thinks it’s safe to say that she does.

“‘Lay all your love on me’.” They finish together, hungry eyes locked with each other while the wolf whistles and clapping gets louder as the final notes of the song trail off.  This is where they should break apart, Y/N thinks, her chest moving rapidly with every ragged breath she takes.  This is where she should climb off Harry’s lap, climb down from the bar, return the microphones to the DJ, and gather her things and go.  This is the end of whatever the hell just happened during that song.  This is where she says “Harry, we have to be up early tomorrow to drive, so we should go back to the motel.”

To her credit, Y/N tries. She swallows hard, her mouth as dry as it’s ever been, and sucks in another breath, almost whimpering at the taste of his cologne in the back of her throat.  Don’t, she tells herself.  She needs to say what she needs to say.  Their game is done.  It’s over.

“Harry—” She begins, and that’s all she manages to say before Harry is kissing her.

Her body reacts before her mind does, but between the overwhelming sensations all around her and the copious amounts of liquor that her brain is swimming in, Y/N can only register every third movement.  The microphone falling from her hand onto the bar as she tangles her fingers back in Harry’s curls, twisting and pulling and receiving the most delightful gasps from him in return.  Harry’s teeth catching her bottom lip, just barely tugging on the tender flesh. Ringed hands keeping a firm grip on Y/N’s sides as Harry helps her down from the bar, his lips still pressed firmly against her own.  The lingering taste of tequila on Harry’s skin as Y/N kisses down his jaw, unable to completely pull away as Harry struggles to settle their tab with the bartender.

She’s never felt like this before; Y/N didn’t even know it could feel like this.  She didn’t know that she could feel an ache so deep inside her, both painful and pleasurable at the same time, and be so completely aware that the only cure for it is the touch of another person.  Y/N had been convinced that this rush was something that was fiction, made up by steamy romance novels to entice lonely housewives to dive beneath their pages. And yet here she is, stumbling out of a bar in Cleveland, Ohio, with Harry Styles, someone that she swore up and down that she hated five days ago.  Here she is with Harry’s jacket draped over her heated shoulders, his hands slipped underneath, rubbing at her exposed skin as he guides her back to the motel.  Here she is with his lips connected to her neck the moment their motel room door is closed, his fingers fumbling with the locks on the door as he refuses to pull away from her.

Yes, Y/N thinks, as she grinds her hips against Harry’s, relishing in the strangled moan that he breathes into her mouth: it’s never felt like this.

“Y/N—” Each pant of her name from his lips sounds like a song. “Fuck, Y/N—” Harry pulls back from her just enough to suck in a full breath, the first in what feels like hours. “I—we—”

“Shut up.” Y/N uses her grip on his hair to pull his head back, trailing open mouthed kisses over his jugular. “Just shut up, Harry, I need—I just need—”

“Need what?” Harry demands, eyes dark as he pushes himself away from her.  An involuntary whine at the loss of contact escapes from Y/N’s throat, and Harry has to steel himself again before he can continue. “What do you need?” He asks, struggling to keep his voice controlled. “You—you have to tell me, so that—I need you to be clear.”

Y/N licks over her swollen lips, eyes blown wide with lust as she stares up at Harry, struggling to find the words.  “I need…” She swallows once more, inhaling sharply as he grips her shoulders to steady her. “I need you, Harry.  Just fuck me. I-I need you to—”

Before she can finish her request, Harry has scooped her up into his arms, tossing her on the creaking motel bed as if she were a rag doll.  A gasp of shock leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she’s barely managed to sit up before Harry is caging his body over hers, forcing her back down as he kisses her hard.

Y/N’s hands go straight to the hem of his shirt, tugging roughly on the fabric, shoving it up Harry’s body before he gets the clue to half sit up and pull it off himself. After that, it’s a rush to remove clothes, each of them blindly pulling off shirts and bras and pants.  Everything is rushed, and that’s what Y/N wants. She doesn’t want time to lay down and explore, and allow herself space to second guess her decision.  All she wants is Harry to do something about the ache in her core, to fill her up so completely that she’ll be feeling him for days. It’s that need that makes Y/N tug on his hair to get his attention as he begins to kiss her thighs.

“No.” She shakes her head haphazardly, and the room spins slightly when she finishes the motion. “No, I just—I just need you to fuck me.  I’m ready, Harry—”

“But—” His teeth tug roughly on his bottom lip, mimicking Y/N’s actions from moments ago. “I want to taste—”

“Please, Harry.” Y/N whines, throwing her head back on the motel pillow. “It’s been so long since I’ve been full…please…”

The lewd admission catches Harry off guard. “Fucking hell—” He spits out, his hands tugging on his hair as he sits up. “Yeah, I—okay.” He closes his eyes for a moment to steady himself, the struggle to have a coherent thought clear on his face. “Okay, I need…”

Harry’s eyes begin to search the room, and the moment they settle on his bag in the corner, he rushes towards it.  Y/N watches the muscles in his back shift beneath his smooth skin as he unzips the bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a tiny foil square.  He tucks the package between his teeth as his hands fumble with his belt, undoing it quickly and pulling it off to toss to the floor.  He undoes his button and fly as he climbs back onto the bed, doing his best to waste no time as he situates himself between Y/N’s still spread legs.  

“Y’look so hot like this, y’know that?” He can’t stop himself from muttering the words as he pulls his pants down just enough to free his cock.  Y/N stares hungrily at how swollen he is, only half listening to Harry’s words as she watches his hand stroke himself, the other lifting the condom package to his teeth.  He tears the foil open, spitting the little tag from his mouth as he removes the condom from the foil.  That foil is soon tossed to the ground before Harry gives himself one last stroke, quickly but carefully rolling the condom down the length of his shaft.

Placing his hands on either knee, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs even wider, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of her bare core. “You’re dripping.” Harry says in a low voice, and before Y/N can reply with anything, he runs a ringed finger over her folds and slips it into his mouth.

“Ah—!” Y/N gasps at the unexpected sensation, the minimal contact enough to send her reeling. Harry grins at the response, loving how the pleasure from the small action is clearly written across her face.

“Sorry.” He says with a small shrug, lining himself up with her entrance. “Just wanted a little taste, tha’s all.  Couldn’t resist.” Harry drags the tip of his cock along Y/N’s slick core, a look of concentration overtaking his features. “I’ll go slow—”

A sound of protest leaves Y/N’s mouth. “No.  Go fast. I need it, Harry, please—” Her plea is cut off by Harry thrusting inside her with one sharp movement, and then Y/N stops talking completely.

There’s a slight feeling of pain, as she wasn’t lying when she said it’s been a while since she’s been with someone, but underneath that pain, pleasure is quickly building as Harry begins to snap his hips towards hers, finding a rhythm within a few thrusts. Y/N knows immediately that Harry is probably one of the largest men—if not the largest man—she’s ever been with, but that’s exactly what she needs right now.  The moment he filled her for the first time, there was a feeling of completeness that she’s been missing in her life for a long time.  She needed this, she thinks.  She needed to be stretched, to be filled, to be fucked, and Harry is the only one that could have fulfilled those needs this well. She’s convinced of it.

It’s far from the most romantic sex Y/N’s ever had; it’s all teeth clacking, biting, scratching, tugging, and growling.  And she knows that she should be concerned about how Harry’s teeth biting down on her shoulder is going to leave marks, especially when she has to wear a bridesmaid dress in less than 48 hours.  But all of that is exactly what she needs.  She doesn’t want Harry to whisper how much he loves her, how close he feels to her, how happy he is to be with her.  She doesn’t want to hear him say anything, except—

“Feel so fucking good around my cock.” He growls, his fingertips digging deeper into the flesh of her hips. “So bloody tight, Y/N…”

A sharp gasp tumbles out of Y/N’s throat as Harry swivels his hips, finding the exact spot she needs him the most. “Oh God, Harry, I—” Y/N scratches her nails down his back, surely leaving a trail of angry red marks in her place, as her other hand twists the sheets within her grip. “Fuck, right there, right there, right there—”

“Feels good, yeah? You like it?” Harry manages to bring a hand to her hair, tangling it within her locks and pulling hard. “Tell me.” His voice is so much lower than she’s ever heard it, his accent so much thicker, and the combination sends Y/N’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Tell me how much you love my cock, and—fuck—how much you love me fucking you.”

Y/N’s mouth falls open, a strangled whine echoing from the back of her throat as the head of Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot again. “I-I love it, Harry, I—your cock fills me so well—don’t stop, please don’t stop—!”

Using her moans as fuel, Harry begins to thrust faster, tugging on Y/N’s hair one last time before grasping her hips between his hands to gain more control.  If his flushed skin and the sweat covering his entire body is any indication, Y/N can tell that Harry is just as close as she is.  Her breathing quickens just as the sound of the bed creaking does, and she brings one hand down to her clit to rub fast circles, desperate to reach her release.

“Harry—” She gasps for what seems the millionth time that night, her body shuddering as she pushes closer and closer to the edge. “I’m so fucking close, Harry, please—”

The growl that falls from Harry’s mouth almost doesn’t sound like him.  It’s deeper, more animalistic, and so unlike the careful and slow voice that she’s gotten used to over the last five days.  Releasing one hand from her hip, he pushes her hand out of the way, replacing her fingers with his own to rub circles over her clit. “Cum for me, Y/N. I know you need it, baby, so just—” Harry groans as her walls squeeze his length. “Just cum.”

The command combined with his motions is all it takes to push Y/N over the edge.  A breathless gasp falls from her open mouth, and she screws her eyes shut as pleasure courses through her body.  It’s so much more intense than anything she’s felt before, so much more pleasurable, so much more dizzying, and just so much more. Small whimpers and Harry’s name are the only things she can think to say as her orgasm makes her movements stutter before falling limply back onto the bed.

“Fuck—” Harry moans roughly as he kisses her one more time, his mouth falling open against hers as her orgasm triggers his own.  Although the rhythm of his thrusts stutters, they don’t completely stop, and he continues to slam his hips against her own as he rides out his orgasm. “That’s it, baby—squeeze me tight—” Harry pants into Y/N’s mouth, barely registering anything he’s saying, let alone the pet name that’s begun to fall from his lips. “Christ…”

Things become a blur after that.  After Harry pulls out, all Y/N can focus on is how empty she feels without his thick cock filling her to the brim, and she doesn’t even realize that he’s gotten off the bed until he returns, his weight causing the whole bed frame to creak once more. With both of them so sweaty, Harry only pulls the top sheet over their panting bodies, pressing his head into the crook of Y/N’s neck as his eyes close.

Neither of them says anything, and for multiple reasons.  What exactly is there to say?  And, more pressing, what exactly is Y/N capable of saying right now?  There are no words running through her mind. All she can do is think in terms of physical contact and needs, and those two things tell her everything she knows in this moment.  She knows that Harry is in just his boxers now because she can’t feel the rough fabric of his pants against her bare skin.  She knows that she needs his hands on her, cupping her breasts the way he is. She knows that if he were to move away from her, she’d go chasing after him.  She knows that she’s completely worn out—completely fucked out, really—and above all else, she knows that whatever needs to be discussed between them can be discussed the next morning.

Harry, however, seems to have a different approach.  His face still pressed into her neck, he mumbles something against her sweat soaked skin, low and deep and completely inaudible.  Y/N feels an open mouthed kiss pressed to her neck, and then hears another mumble, this one even quieter than the last.

“Hm?” Y/N barely manages to hum the syllable in her exhaustion.

There’s no response, no repeat of the quiet phrases, and it takes Y/N a few minutes of feeling Harry’s breathing even out to realize that he’s fallen asleep.  If she were sober and had the mental capacity to examine things, Y/N would wonder what it was that Harry whispered into her skin.  But her brain is swimming in exhaustion and endorphins and tequila, and the only thing she can do is close her eyes and allow her breathing to sync up with the rise and fall of Harry’s chest.

…

The first thing Y/N registers the next morning is the shrill ringing of her cell phone, which somehow made its way to the bedside table in her drunken fervour the night before. The second thing she registers is the pounding of her head, like she can feel each pump of blood to her brain, and the uncomfortably dry feeling in her mouth, as if it’s been stuffed full of cotton. The third thing Y/N registers is—

“Christ.” Harry groans into her neck, his voice raspy from sleep and laced with irritation. “God, who is calling right now?”

Right.  The third thing she registers, probably the most complicated of all, Y/N thinks, is just how much of Harry’s taut and tattooed bare skin is pressed against her own.  His strong arms are thrown over her waist, clutching her tight to his chest. In the back of her mind, she’s vaguely aware of the chain of Harry’s cross pressing into her breast, probably leaving a small red indentation along with the other marks he left on her last night.

Last night.

Y/N lets out a small whine as the previous evening comes rushing back to her.  It’s a blur of alcohol, ABBA, and Harry.  Harry is everywhere, in every blurred picture her hungover brain can conjure.  Laughing at her from across the table.  Smirking at her on stage.  Staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes as he pulled her down on top of him on the bar, grinding his hips into hers.  Kissing her.  Kissing her multiple times.  Coming back to their room with his hands leaving scorching imprints over every inch of her.  And now, him laying next to her, clutching the two of them together like they’ve always done this.  Like it’s natural.

The phone rings again, louder than the last time, and Harry curses under his breath, the short exhale of air leaving goosebumps along Y/N’s neck.  He lifts his head just barely as he reaches across Y/N’s body, grabbing her phone from the bedside table and not bothering to check the caller ID as he answers.

“Hello?” He says, the rasp of sleep still clear his voice.  Within three seconds, Harry’s entire body tenses against Y/N, his arm constricting around her waist enough to shift her on the bed.

Y/N lifts her head up when she feels the change, finally opening her eyes just enough to read the change in Harry’s body language.  What she finds are dark and stormy green eyes, a swollen red mouth pressed into a thin line, and a deep crease between his furrowed brow, all of it such a contrast from the hazy memories of him the night before.

“I—yeah, she’s right here.” Harry mutters, his eyes snapping to Y/N’s face for just a moment. “I’ll—oh. Yeah, no, the trip’s been…good. Yeah.  Not too much traffic.” His arm moves off her waist as he pulls away from her, rolling onto his back as the bed creaks beneath them.  With his newly freed hand, Harry covers his eyes, rubbing them for a moment as the irritation on his face grows. “Yeah, it was nice of me to give her a ride.  Yeah.” He sucks in a breath. “Well, she’s—she’s awake now.  Here.  I’ll let you two talk.”

Y/N props herself up on one elbow, careful to keep the sheet pressed to her chest so that she’s not exposed. She knows that Harry’s already seen everything, touched everything, and kissed everything, but the sudden change in his demeanor is telling her that she needs to be guarded, even if she has no idea what caused it.

Harry holds out her phone for her, his face stony as Y/N slowly accepts it. “Harry—?” She begins, but he just gives a rough jerk of his head, and offers no other explanation.

Eyes still glued to Harry’s face, Y/N brings the phone to her ear, clearing the sleep from her voice. “Hello?”

“Hi.” The familiar cadence of Brant’s voice crackles through the phone speaker, an indication of how far away he is from her. “It’s good to finally hear your voice; I haven’t been able to catch you the last few days.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Harry as her body goes cold, pressing the sheet tighter to her chest. “Brant.” She whispers his name unintentionally; her body won’t allow her to say it any louder. “Hi.”

At the sound of Brant’s voice leaving her lips, Harry throws the covers off of himself, jerkily pulling himself off of the low motel room bed.  He snatches his jeans off the floor, and doesn’t give Y/N another glance as he walks to the small bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.

“Hi.” Brant says again, completely unaware of what’s happening on the other end of the telephone line. “I’ve missed you.  Where are you now?”

“Uh, Cleveland.” Y/N says weakly, stumbling her way out of the bed to her duffel bag.  She grabs a new bra and t-shirt, along with her comfiest pair of pants.  Without Harry beside her, she’s freezing. “Today’s our last day of driving.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Brant replies easily. “The wedding is tomorrow, then?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N’s eyes flicker to the bathroom as the sound of the shower starting travels through the wood of the door. “And tonight is the rehearsal dinner.”

Brant makes a sound of acknowledgement on the other end of the phone. “That’ll be nice!  Do you know if you’re flying back?”

“Uh—” Y/N pauses her movements, her pants half pulled up her legs.  That, honestly, is a good question, and one which seems as though the answer is changing with every passing moment. “I guess I’ll call the airline and…see if I can fly back.  Maybe the storms will have passed.”

“You must have driven through them, right?  In Utah, or wherever they were?” Brant asks curiously. “Did they seem that bad? Honestly, I’ve always found thunder to be relaxing.  I think most people do.”

Y/N tugs her t-shirt over her head with one hand, accidentally bumping her chin as she does so.  The motion causes her to bite down on her tongue, and she lets out a curse under her breath, not even bothering to correct Brant.  It doesn’t matter, she thinks.  He probably wouldn’t remember. “Yeah.  Relaxing.”

The sound of the shower turning off catches her attention, distracting her from what Brant says next. “I—sorry—” She mutters in a distracted tone, raking her fingers through her sleep and sex mussed hair. “What was that?”

“I said let me know when you’re on your way back from New York, so I’ll make us a dinner reservation.” Brant repeats himself without suspicion of Y/N’s distracted tone. “We just got some new files at work that I think you’ll be very interested in.”

The bathroom door creaks open, and Harry emerges from the cloud of shower steam.  He’s dressed in just his pants, his marked chest still damp from the shower.  Although he catches Y/N’s eye for a moment, he quickly looks away, rubbing his towel through his wet curls as he turns to search for a shirt.  The red marks of Y/N’s nails are prominent on his otherwise unmarked back.

“Dinner?” Y/N repeats slowly, chewing on her cuticle as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Are you—you still want to get dinner?”

“Of course.  I enjoy our weekly dinners, don’t you?” Brant asks, confusion finally slipping into his voice. “I’ve missed them.”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat, rubbing her thumb absentmindedly over her bottom lip. “Okay.  Yeah.  Dinner. I’ll, um, I’ll let you know when I book a flight home.”

“Sounds wonderful. Well, I’ll let you get on the road. Let me know when you’re available.” Brant’s voice already sounds more and more distant. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Y/N replies lamely, letting her phone drop to the crumpled bed sheets.

There’s a rustling behind her, the sound of a belt clicking, of the zipper on a duffel bag being pulled shut.  Y/N waits for a moment, to give Harry the chance to say something to her, but nothing comes.  Finally, she twists around on the bed, her nerves running on high.

Harry is completely dressed now, a black t-shirt covering his previously bare chest, and he’s tied his familiar green bandana into his damp chestnut locks.  His sunglasses are hanging on the neck of his shirt, but even without them covering his emerald eyes, Y/N can’t decipher anything that’s swirling within them.

“That—that was Brant.” She says finally, scratching a nail over the palm of her hand.

Harry jerks his head in a nod as he shoulders his duffel bag. “Yeah.  I heard.” Tapping his fingers against the leather strap, he finally spares a glance at Y/N. “He wants to take you to dinner, huh?”

Running her teeth along her bottom lip, Y/N takes a moment before she replies. “Harry, I—”

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters, taking long strides to the door and unlocking it with a harsh turn of his hand. “Just hurry up, yeah?  I want to get on the road soon, so we’re not late to the rehearsal dinner.”

When he slams the door behind him, Y/N breaks.

…

And just like that, it’s like they’re back at square one.

It really feels like the first day all over again, Y/N thinks, in every sense of the sentiment. From the way she and Harry sit in silence, each avoiding the other’s gaze, to how every single one of Harry’s movements is filled with a tight and tense irritation.  Even the sound of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” is familiar, echoing through the speakers of the car like a soundtrack to an old memory.  

After four hours, the silence is finally getting to her.  She can’t stop shifting in her seat, her muscles seizing from hours on end in the same position—although, frankly, her soreness may partially be a result of her and Harry’s activities from the night before—and with every short and hard breath Harry sighs, Y/N gets more and more antsy.

“Harry.” She says finally, risking a glance at him from the corner of her eye.  He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift, both grips tight enough to stretch his skin over the bones of his knuckles until it goes white.  At the sound of Y/N’s voice, his jaw flexes, but he shows no other evidence that he heard her.

A frustrated sigh falls past Y/N’s lips. “Harry.” She says again, firmer this time. “Are you going to ignore me all the way to the Catskills?”

Realizing that he can’t feign deafness, Harry lets his shoulders lift once and drop down again in a quick motion. “’M not ignoring you.” He mutters, keeping his eyes glued to the road.

“We’re not talking. At all.” Y/N taps her fingers against her knee, just slightly off the beat of the music. “Shouldn’t we talk about what happened?”

“Why?” Harry asks, his voice flatter than she’s ever heard it. “What’s there to talk about?”

Y/N twists her body in her seat, her seat belt nearly cutting into her throat with how quickly she moves. “What the hell do you mean, what’s there to talk about?  There’s plenty!  Last night—”

Harry cuts over her with a sharp tone, still refusing to look away from the road. “Last night we got drunk, and we made a mistake.” His grip tightens even more on the gear shift as he moves it to accelerate the car. “And it shouldn’t have happened.”

It takes a few moment for the words to register in her brain, and Y/N blinks slowly as the process unfolds. “You think it was a mistake?” She tries to ask the question as nonchalantly as possible.

“I do.” Harry nods tightly, and while Y/N thinks that she can detect something else underneath his tone, his dark sunglasses hide the truth of his thoughts from her. “We got caught up with trying to—to pretend we’re not who we are.  But we know who we are.”

If Y/N’s brain couldn’t process Harry’s words a moment ago, it’s working in overdrive now as she draws a million different conclusions from the conversation.  What the fuck does “we know who we are” mean?  Wasn’t the whole point of this trip—the long lesson they’d learned together—that both of them were different than the other had thought? Hadn’t Harry proved to her, over and over, how he was so much more considerate and empathetic than she’d previously imagined?  Hadn’t she shown him that she wasn’t the Ice Queen he thought she was, wasn’t as controlling, wasn’t as perfect?  Hadn’t that been a good thing?  Hadn’t they bonded at roadside fruit stands, small souvenir shacks, ghost town gas stations, and dingy motel rooms?

But maybe…maybe she had imagined all of that, because the way that Harry is actively avoiding her gaze is telling her that he isn’t thinking the same thing.  Everything from his body language, to his tone of voice, to his attitude, is telling her that he’s just as stubborn and closed off as he was when they first met.  He hasn’t changed.  If he had, he wouldn’t be refusing to do something as simple as look at her.

Still, something about the interaction doesn’t sit right with Y/N.  Although she turns to face the windshield again, she keeps Harry in the corner of her gaze. “Is this…” She swallows hard. “Does this have something to do with Brant calling?”

A harsh snort is all the response she gets. “Christ, no.  Trust me, nothing that prick can do has that much of an affect on me.” Even from behind his sunglasses, Y/N can tell that Harry is rolling his eyes. “Although I suppose it is a reminder of where you belong.”

A flash of irritation rips up Y/N’s spine. “A reminder of what?” She repeats, eyes narrowing.

“You heard me, Y/N, don’t make me say it again.” Harry taps a finger to the song, perfectly on the beat. They’re out of sync, Y/N realizes. Had they ever been in sync?

No, she decides.  They hadn’t.  She’d just been fooling herself.  Being in the car for five days with only Harry for company had deluded her, but soon she’d be with Jo, and a million other people, and when she’s not in stuck in Harry’s car, smelling Harry’s cologne, listening to Harry’s music, she’ll have a clear head.  She’ll be able to think straight.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses her arms firmly over her chest, leaning her head against the cool glass of the passenger window.  A sign welcoming them to the state of New York whizzes past. “I won’t make you say it again.  You don’t have to say anything.”

…

“So?  What do you think?”

Y/N steps over the threshold of the cozy cabin, analyzing every little detail of the room as quickly as she can.  The interior seems to be one open concept room, cleverly split up with small architectural dividers.  The living room and kitchen flowed into each other smoothly, with a kitchen island dividing the space.  To the left of the living room is a small reading nook, holding a comfortable looking wicker swing chair and a half-size bookshelf that seems to be well stocked. Separating the reading nook from the rest of the cabin is the staircase, which Y/N presumes leads up to the master bedroom and bathroom that’s lofted above on the halved second floor. Between the wall of windows giving a beautiful view of the forest, the fire quietly cracking in the living room, and the potted plants scattered around the cabin, Y/N has to admit that she thinks she could live in this space for the rest of her life.

“It’s beautiful, Jo.” She finally replies, setting down her suitcase and duffel bag as she continues to look around.  She walks to the living room first, brushing her fingers over the cable knit blanket that’s draped over the back of the comfortable looking couch. “Is this for you and Laure?”

“Nope.  It’s for me and you.” Jo replies, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge.  She pulls out a bottle of rosé, motioning over her shoulder to the cupboard. “Grab a couple wine glasses, would you?”

Y/N crosses to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards until she finds the glasses.  Setting them down on the island, she gives Jo a confused look. “Me and you?”

Jo gives her a familiar grin as she uncorks the wine, and the sight of it lights a warm fire in Y/N’s chest.  It feels like home. “It’s tradition for the bride not to see the bride before the wedding, isn’t it?  So after the rehearsal dinner, Laure and I will say goodbye until the ceremony tomorrow, and you and I—” She fills Y/N’s glass liberally. “Will have one last night of single girl fun.  And then you can have the cabin to yourself tomorrow night, because I will be on my honeymoon, and, hopefully, getting laid.”

Y/N smiles back at her as she lifts her glass, clinking it against Jo’s. “Sounds like a plan.” After taking a long sip, Y/N leans her elbows on the counter, propping her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow.  Married!”

“Yeah, well, that’s old news.” Jo waves her hand as she lowers her wine glass from her lips, her inquisitive eyes alight with mischief. “I’d rather know how the trip with Harry was. Are you two finally getting along? The last time I called, you actually sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

Y/N pauses with her wine glass half lifted to her lips.  Part of her wants to tell Jo everything, because she always tells Jo everything. It feels wrong to have a secret from her.  But then again, she’s never had a reason to have a secret before.  Right now, however…the last thing Jo and Laure need the night before their wedding—three hours before the rehearsal dinner—is to be stressed because the maid of honour and the best man had a drunken one night stand in Cleveland, Ohio.  

“I wouldn’t say we’re getting along.” Y/N says diplomatically, taking a sip of wine between her words. “We’re…a bit better, I suppose.  But we’re not that close.”

“Really?” When Jo raises an eyebrow, Y/N almost swears that she can detect a hint of disappointment in her voice. “But Harry said—”

“He said what?” Y/N asks quickly, the diplomatic tone disappearing immediately.

Jo tugs on her bottom lip as she gives a small shrug of her shoulders. “Nothing, I guess.  I don’t know.  I overheard him and Laure talking last night, but I couldn’t really make much of it out.  It sounded like you two were at a bar.”

The new information makes Y/N pause.  Harry had called Laure while they were at the bar last night.  Harry had felt the need to call Laure while they were at the bar last night.  What had been so urgent, so pressing, that he needed to speak to her right then and there?

“A bar, yeah.” Y/N finally replies after a moment. “It was alright.  We just had a couple drinks to relax from being in the car.”

“Just drinks?  That’s all?  Nothing else?”

Y/N clears her throat, gulping down the rest of her wine before answering. “That’s it.  Nothing else.”

…

“Here you go, Miss Bride.” Y/N grins at Jo as she tops off her mimosa, fixing the tie of her pink silk robe as she settles back down in her chair. “Something to relax you, yeah?”

Jo glances up at Y/N, her pen pausing over the page of her notebook.  She’s careful when she moves her head, so as not to disturb the hairstylist that’s carefully curling her hair, but still manages to meet Y/N’s eye. “I’m relaxed.” She argues, but takes a sip of the drink nonetheless. “I just love mimosas.  You can’t blame me for that.”

Y/N gives a slight shrug as she brushes a strand of her own carefully styled hair over her shoulder. Jo, being Jo, had insisted on sleeping in as much as she could that morning, so when the hair and makeup lady had arrived two hours ago, Y/N had been the first one to get made over. Which, honestly, she quite enjoyed, but the real feat would be remaining picture perfect until the ceremony, which is still two hours away.

“Will you do something for me?” Jo asks suddenly, her pen still scratching over her notebook.  She finishes signing her name with a messy signature, waiting until the hairdresser has paused her movements to rip the page from the notebook and fold it up.  She quickly writes Laure’s name on the front and extends the note to Y/N. “Will you bring this to Laure?”

Although Y/N accepts the note from her automatically, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her voice. “This isn’t an explanation of why you’re leaving her at the altar, is it?”

Jo flips Y/N off with an elegantly painted fingernail. “No, you jerk.  We agreed to write letters to each other right before the wedding.  As a little keepsake.”

A sudden lump develops in Y/N’s throat as she turns the note over in her hands, her mind flickering back to the last time she’d read something Jo wrote for Laure.  How Harry’s voice had sounded reciting Laure’s words for Jo. “You two are sickeningly sweet, you know that?” Y/N finishes her mimosa before standing up, tightening her robe once again. “I’ll take it to her now. Where’s her cabin?”

“Just down the path towards the resort.  Take a left when you reach the arrow sign.” Jo instructs her, setting her notebook down beside her before relaxing back into her chair.  Her eyes close as the hairdresser continues styling her hair. “You’ll find it.”

Y/N nods, slipping on her scuffed up Vans before dashing outside.  When the slight chill in the morning air hits her, she pulls her silk dressing gown around her tighter, and debates whether or not she should grab a proper jacket.  She decides against it, however, and ignores the goosebumps popping up on her bare legs as she begins to walk down the path Jo mentioned.

It’s a quiet and calm morning, and Y/N can hear birds chirping and flittering through the pine trees around them.  The trees themselves add a wonderful scent to the air, in addition to the faint smell that indicates it may rain later.  Glancing up, Y/N can see that the sky is overcast, giving another indication of future weather patterns.  A small sigh escapes her.  A storm would be just the thing that’s needed today, she thinks wryly.  

When Y/N reaches the arrow sign, which points towards the lake, the main resort building, and the cabins, she takes a sharp left.  And practically slams into Harry’s chest.

On instinct, Harry’s strong hands grip her arms, steadying her as she stumbles back from him.  Y/N’s eyes widen as she registers who she almost walked into, and she can tell Harry is just realizing it’s her.  His grip on her tightens for just a moment before it releases, and he takes a step back from her, creating space between their bodies.

“Sorry.” Y/N says after a moment, clearing her throat. “I was just—”

“Yeah.” Harry holds up his hand, and for the first time Y/N realizes that he’s holding a note identical to hers. “You’re on messenger duty too, huh?”

Biting her lip, Y/N nods slowly, holding up her own note. “Mhmm.”

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and Y/N doesn’t miss how Harry’s green irises pause during his scan of her bare legs.  Crossing her ankles together, Y/N lets her eyes wander too, admiring for a moment how Harry’s grey sweatpants cling to his hips.  But only for a moment.

“Well, here.” Y/N pushes the note towards him, taking the note that he trades her in return. “How’s Laure doing?”

Harry gives a half shrug, turning Jo’s note over and over in his fingers. “Pretty decent, except she won’t eat anything.  Says she’s too nervous.”

Y/N cracks a small smile at the image of Laure, someone who is usually so self assured and confident, being too nervous about anything. “Tell her she can’t have a drink until she eats.  That’s how I got some toast into Jo.”

“I’ll do that.” Harry says with a terse nod.  

A beat of silence falls between the two of them, the only sounds audible being the chirping of birds and the wind in the trees.  The latter sends a shiver through Y/N, and she wraps her arms around herself to rub her bare skin, trying to find a bit of warmth in the shade of the forest.

A crease appears between Harry’s brow as he registers the motion, and he quickly shrugs off his own jacket.  Before Y/N can refuse, he’s draping the fabric around her shoulders, careful not to touch any bare skin.

Although Y/N fixes the drape of the jacket, her mouth opens to protest. “Harry—”

“I should go.  I have to give this to Laure, and get her to eat something.” Harry’s voice is gruff as he takes a step back. “I suppose I’ll…see you at the wedding?”

Y/N nods slowly, her fingers still grazing over the hem of the jacket. “Yeah.” She should say more, she thinks.  She should voice her anger, or her hurt, or whatever the hell it is that’s curdling like a hot ball of lead inside her stomach, but she can’t think of the words. “Yeah, I—” I’m sorry.  I miss you. I wish I could take it back.  I wish I could do things over. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

…

“Uh, hello.  Can everyone hear me?”

Y/N watches with expectant eyes as Harry leans forward over the podium, his pink lips brushing against the microphone for just a moment before he takes a step back.  He looks so different than the last time she’d seen him with a microphone, she thinks.  He’s dressed so much more formally, in a striking emerald suit that matches the colour palette of the wedding, along with Y/N’s dress.  His cheeks are flushed from champagne, his eyes bright, but there’s a hint of nerves under his thick accent.  

Harry raises his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat quietly as he unfolds a piece of paper and smooths it on the podium. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harry Styles.  I have had the honour of being Laure’s best man today, as well as her best friend since we were teenagers.” Harry pauses his speech to smile at Laure, the fondness for the bride apparent in his eyes. “We’ve been through a lot together—I’ve watched her go through a lot, too—and she’s always come out on the other side better than ever.  An example of this is when she made the decision—after living in England her whole life, never leaving, living in the same small brownstone for eighteen years—to move to America for university.”

Y/N lifts her champagne to her lips, taking a small sip while keeping her eyes glued to Harry.  The more he talks, the more relaxed he appears, as he naturally falls into the role of a performer again.  Out of the corner of her eye, she can practically see him charming every woman in the room, and it takes all her concentration not to roll her eyes.

“She’d made the decision a bit impulsively, and—in true Laure fashion—stuck to it like the stubborn person she is.” Harry laughs lightly, shaking his head at the memory as Jo nods in agreement beside Y/N. “She was so certain that moving was what she wanted, so determined to do it—and then the night before her flight, she showed up at my house in tears, talking about how she couldn’t possibly go through with the move.  She couldn’t leave behind everything she’d known.” Glancing down at his notes for a moment, Harry takes a deep breath before continuing. “It freaked me out a bit, I won’t lie.  To see someone who’s usually so sure of themselves question such a big decision. But I assured her that everything would be fine, that moving forward was always scary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.  Life always pushes us forward, whether we’re ready for it or not.  So Laure left, and a month later, I decided to go visit her in America, expecting to find her incredibly homesick, in tears, a mess.” A small smile begins to play at the corner of Harry’s lip. “Instead, I arrived to find her adjusted, happy, and about to go on a date with a girl she had met named Jo.”

A laugh ripples through the wedding guests, and Y/N can’t help but smile in spite of herself.  

“And I, uh…I was at a loss for words that day.” Harry’s eyes flicker to the head table, settling on the two brides with a happy smile, and yet…something in his eyes looks flatter, like he’s trapped in a deep thought. “I thought I was going to visit my friend, and comfort her, and instead I found her on a date, completely fine.  She didn’t need me to comfort her.  She was—and still is—so incredibly resilient. She always has been.”

Harry’s eyes travel again, but this time, they settle on Y/N.  She shifts in her seat as he looks her over, his eyes phasing emotions again while his tongue swipes over his lips quickly. “So anyways—” Harry quickly looks away when he catches Y/N’s eye, turning his attention back to the audience of wedding guests. “I suppose I’m the one to thank for this marriage, because if I hadn’t pushed Laure to come to America, she would never have met Jo.” An easygoing smile pulls at his pink lips as the crowd laughs lightly. “And now, Laure…you’re at that same place again.  A new beginning.  Except this time, you’re not alone.  You managed to find something that most of us…” Harry hesitates again. “Most of us spend our entire lives searching for, and when we find it, we manage to f—screw it up.” His eyes flicker to Laure’s grandmother when he catches the curse word, and Y/N hides a small laugh behind her champagne glass. “But you didn’t. You and Jo…you’re lucky.  You figured out what you wanted, and you didn’t let anything—fear, anxiety, or your…your own pride—” Harry swallows hard, his eyes flickering to Y/N once more, and the glance makes her skin burn beneath her dress. “—stop you.  You’re both an inspiration to all of us.  I love you two.  To Jo and Laure!”

Y/N murmurs the toast with the rest of the crowd, raising her glass of champagne and draining it as her head spins with Harry’s words.  A waiter walks by and quickly refills the glass, grazing by Harry as he makes his way back to his seat on Laure’s right side.  Y/N barely gives herself a moment to catch his unreadable emerald eyes before she stands, carefully picking up the hem of her dress as she walks to the podium. It’s her turn now.

Stepping up to the microphone, Y/N clears her throat, resting her free hand against the wood to steady herself. “Thank you, Harry, that was…lovely.” Y/N begins, allowing herself one more stolen look at him.  His brow is furrowed, hands folded together over the cream tablecloth as his eyes focus on her.

“My name is Y/N, and I’m the maid of honour.  Jo and I have been best friends since the first day of kindergarten, when she punched a boy in the nose for me, which, funnily enough, wasn’t the last time she’d have to do that.” A laugh rolls through the room, and Y/N gives an endeared look to Jo’s sheepish grin before turning to face the wedding guests again. “I’ve had the good fortune of having her on my side from day one, and…I know just how lucky that makes me.  There’s so many times where I’d…I wouldn’t have been able to handle what life threw at me if I didn’t have Jo with me.  She’s kind, and compassionate, and fiery, and just…the very best person I know. And if you know her, then I’m sure you’d agree.”

Y/N takes a moment to breathe, her parched tongue swiping quickly over her lips. “I’ve, um, I’ve never been a perfect person.  I’ve never been very good at…articulating what I feel, or—or making a hard choice. I’ve always followed a safer path, out of…fear, I suppose.” Not for the first time since she began talking, Y/N’s eyes travel to Harry.  He still has the same stoic expression over his features, but his eyes…she can tell he’s hanging on every word she’s saying, and is analyzing every syllable.

“But Jo has never done that.” Y/N continues, shaking her gaze from Harry to settle on her best friend. “Even when she’s been afraid, she’s pushed forward, usually dragging me along with her.  And it’s a good thing she has, because I wouldn’t have half the stories I have now if not for her.” Y/N cracks a smile. “But she just—when Jo loves you, you know it. She never hesitates to tell anyone. She never worries about it being too much.  She has the biggest heart, and if you’re lucky—really lucky—she’ll keep you inside it. And I used to worry about her, because in my mind, that was dangerous.  Being so open was so terrifying to me, I was certain that it would backfire for Jo.  And then she met Laure.”

Although it’s a struggle, Y/N manages to train her eyes on Laure without letting them travel to Harry. “Laure and Jo may seem different on the surface, but they both share giant hearts. And their differences balance each other out so perfectly.  You two—I never really believed in soul mates until I saw the two of you together.” Y/N admits, biting down hard on her lip when she catches Harry shifting in his chair from the corner of her eye. “But the way you two know each other, and speak to each other, and love each other…anyone who sees it can’t help but know that you’re meant for each other.  That you’ve been meant for each other since the beginning of time. Every choice you made, every path you took—all of it led you two to each other, because that’s what was destined to happen.  You—” Y/N’s voice catches in her throat, and she takes a moment to compose herself before speaking again. “You’re going to be happy together, because you were meant to be.  It’s as simple as that.”

Y/N knows that she can’t say anything else without beginning to unravel, so she simply raises her champagne glass in the air, deciding it’s best to leave it at that. “To Jo and Laure.”

Above the echoes of the wedding guests, Y/N can hear Harry’s unmistakable voice.

…

“‘She’s like the wind…through my tree’…”

With her champagne glass raised to her lips, Y/N pensively watches as Jo and Laure turn to the music in each other’s arms, holding one another close as the voice of Patrick Swayze drifts through the speakers.  When the pair had originally told Y/N that they wanted to dance to a song from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack for their first dance, Y/N had laughed at the choice.  Now, however, as she watches Laure brush back a strand of hair from Jo’s face, her lips drifting down to whisper something in her new wife’s ear, Y/N has to admit that the song is the perfect choice for them.

“They look happy, don’t they?”

Y/N recognizes Harry’s voice, not needing to turn her head away from the couple on the dance floor to know that he’s moved from his chair three seats down.  Although the feeling of his warm breath on her neck is enough to make her shudder, as well as bring back memories of the nights they spent together, Y/N does her best to keep herself composed.

“They do.” She agrees after a moment, setting her fluted glass down on the table.  She keeps her fingers around the base, gently gliding them over the smooth crystal absentmindedly as she finally turns her head just enough to catch a sight of Harry.

He’s moved himself to Jo’s chair, with one hand braced against the table and one hand lightly settled on the back of Y/N’s seat.  He removed his suit jacket after his speech, but his waist coat is still buttoned properly, despite the sleeves of his dress shirt now being rolled to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.  His face is just as pensive as it’s been all day, but there’s some sort of change that Y/N can’t quite put a finger on.  There’s less of a guard in his emerald eyes, she thinks, before turning her attention back to the dance floor.

“Do you…” Harry licks his lips once, swiping a hand through his carefully styled curls before brushing over the back of his neck. “Would you like to dance?  With me?”

Y/N’s movements against the crystal flute pause.  That question was the last thing she expected him to ask. “I…” Clearing her throat, she keeps her eyes focused on the swaying of Jo and Laure. “I don’t know.”

A vibration on the back of Y/N’s chair lets her know that Harry’s tapping his fingers against it, the pattern familiar after watching him play the same rhythm on the steering wheel for five days. “You don’t have to, so—don’t feel like you have to say yes.  But I just…I don’t know.  I thought it would be nice.”

Yes, Y/N thinks wistfully, pursing her lips slightly at the nervous tone in Harry’s voice.  It would be nice.  To be wrapped in his arms again, his body close enough that she can feel the pounding of his heart beneath his formal clothing.  To feel his calloused hands within her own again, and resting on her waist, pulling her closer to himself with every passing moment…

“It…” Y/N glances down for a moment, fixing a crease in her dress with careful attentiveness. “It would be nice, yeah.  Until we try ripping each other’s throats out in the middle of the wedding.”

The joke is only half a joke, and Harry’s laugh is only half in amusement. “I didn’t really plan on that.”

“Well, it seems that things we don’t plan on keep happening, so…” As the music begins to fade out, Y/N finally turns her head to look at Harry straight on. “That’s not really a reassuring statement.”

A flicker of irritation flits through Harry’s eyes, a sight that’s become familiar in all her years of knowing him. “It was a simple question, Y/N.  Do you want to dance or not?”

As Y/N’s own irritation escalates, she knows that she should say no.  The best thing for her to do right now would be to distance herself from Harry, to get some space to clear her head, and to keep herself from making a scene.  Whatever there is to talk about—if there even is something they need to talk about—can be done at a later date, preferably not in the middle of a wedding.  And yet—

“Fine.” Y/N finished off her champagne glass, setting it back down on the table gingerly as a new song begins to drift through the speakers.  “Let’s go.”

Harry stands from his seat first, extending a hand to Y/N to help her up.  Although she’s wary, she takes it, the sensation of his cool rings against her own fingers growing more and more familiar with each moment she spends touching them.  

A few more couples have joined Jo and Laure on the dance floor now, and Y/N and Harry fit right in as he leads her to the center, keeping her hand held firmly in his own as his free hand finds her waist.  Y/N rests her own hand on his shoulder, gripping his sturdy frame carefully.

“‘Is love so fragile…and the heart so hollow’…”

The song, Y/N realizes, doing her best to focus on anything but the way Harry’s gaze is locked onto her with a frightening intensity, is one that she’s heard a few times over their road trip together.  The beat of the song is as familiar as a memory as the two of them sway to it, their motions careful and controlled.

“‘You’re saying I’m fragile; I try not to be…I search only for something I can’t see’…”

Harry’s hand on her waist, Y/N can’t help but notice, is so much more unsure than it was a few nights ago, when he pulled her close on top of the bar.  When he guided her movements in a way that was so much more frenzied than he’s doing now, and in a way that she misses.  She’s missed it, that breathless feeling.  The feeling of not knowing what’s coming next, and being enthralled by the unknown of it all.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today…give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirking up ever so slightly lets Y/N know that he’s listening just as intently to the lyrics as she is, and has the same events and memories floating through his head.  His hand begins to get braver, tightening his grasp on her as his hand begins to rub gently over her hip.

“Harry…” His name slips from Y/N’s lips involuntarily as she meets his jade eyes in question.  From the corner of her eye, she can see Laure and Jo watching the two of them as they dance, whispering into each other’s ears like girls gossiping in a school hallway. “What—?”

“Sh.” The sound is soft as it falls past Harry’s red lips, the crease between his brow slackening slightly as he sighs. “Just…don’t speak.  Not right now.”

“‘You in the moonlight…with your sleepy eyes…could you ever love a man like me’…”

The request is easy enough, but Y/N can’t make herself listen to it as she cocks her head to the side, the furrow of her own brow matching Harry’s. “Why?”

“‘And you were right…when I walked into your house…I knew I’d never want to leave’…”

The breath that Harry sucks in is mostly taken through his teeth, his lips pursing immediately after as he contemplates his answer. “I just want to…remember this moment. Properly remember it, before tonight ends, and we…”

“‘Sometimes I’m a strong man…sometimes cold and scared’…”

“…We go our separate ways.” Harry finally finishes, his eyes shifting to the floor as he pulls Y/N even closer to his chest.  Her elbow is completely bent to her body as her fingers drift further from his shoulder, moving closer to where the slope of his neck begins.

Although the explanation makes sense, the thought of going a separate way from Harry catches Y/N’s breath in her throat, so much so that she can barely choke out a reply. “Okay.” She manages, the lump in her throat growing with every passing second.

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Eyes drifting closed of their own accord, Y/N leans her head forward, settling her cheek into the curve of Harry’s shoulder.  The smell of his cologne lingers in the fabric of his emerald waistcoat, intoxicating her further with every breath she takes.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Something warm and soft presses against the top of Y/N’s head, and she knows that it’s Harry’s own cheek resting against her.  A gentle sigh falls from his mouth, and Y/N feels every moment of it, from the rise and fall of his chest against hers to the breath of air that blows slowly from his lips.  She memorizes the motions, something for her to play in her head again later when she’s alone on a plane back to L.A., where her regular life is waiting for her. Where Brant is waiting for her.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

Y/N quickly lifts a finger to her eye, wiping away the moisture that’s pooling on her lash line before returning her grip to Harry’s shoulder. “If I said…” She hesitates, taking the time to choose her words carefully.  She needs to choose them carefully. “If I said that I loved every moment of the road trip…would you believe me?”

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Harry squeezes her hand in his own, his entire body tightening in response to her words, and for a moment, Y/N fears that she’s overstepped.  An apology is already forming in her mouth, about to spill from her tongue, when Harry’s response cuts her off, his voice hesitant and anxious and so quiet that she almost can’t make out the words.

“If I said that I loved every moment I’ve ever spent with you, and not just these last five days, would you believe me?”

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Y/N’s eyes snap open, her head quickly lifting from Harry’s shoulder to look at him with wide and astonished eyes.  Although the struggle is written clearly upon his face, he doesn’t shy his eyes away from hers, and instead holds her gaze as the voice of Stevie Nicks continues to croon over the speakers.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

As the music fades out, another song begins to fade in, increasing the tempo and causing the other couples around them to break apart and mill around the dance floor.  Only Y/N and Harry stay pressed together, stuck in a bubble of all their own, frozen in a moment of change, and unable to move forward or back in the same way they once had.

Over the fabric of her dress, Y/N can feel Harry’s thumb brushing against her hip, sending electrifying pulses throughout her body.  A loose curl has fallen from his styled hair into the path of his eyes, dusting over his eyelashes lightly as he blinks.  Did she believe him, she wonders?  Could she believe him?

“Can we…” Her mouth is dry when she tries to respond, and she licks her lips quickly, noticing how Harry’s eyes flicker to follow the motion. “Can we discuss this after the wedding? I just—I don’t want to take attention away from Jo and Laure—”

“Yeah.” Harry nods roughly, his hand squeezing hers one last time before he slowly drops it, stepping back from her with great care.  Y/N has to bite her tongue to stop herself from whining in protest.

“Yeah.” Harry repeats the word as he fixes his hair, his eyes drifting from hers. “We can discuss it later.”

…

Later, after Jo and Laure cut the cake, after each of them danced with their parents; later, after the staff members began to clear the plates from every table, after everyone waved goodbye to Jo and Laure as their car drove off to the honeymoon cottage snuggled further up the mountain side; later, after guests began to depart in their own cars; later, after Harry snagged a bottle of merlot from the kitchen, after Y/N slipped off her heels during the walk back to her cabin, the feeling of the ground beneath her feet oddly comforting; later, after Y/N opened the door, allowing Harry to step in first before following…

Later is each of them standing in the kitchen, still in their formal clothes, more disheveled than they were at the start of the day, as Y/N opens the cupboard and reaches for the two largest wine glasses she can find.

“Here.” She sets them down on the counter, allowing Harry to fill them to the brim with the crimson liquid. He pushes a nearly full glass towards her before taking the other in his hand, each of them bringing the glasses to their lips for a long drink.

Harry is nervous, and Y/N can tell.  She’s gotten a bit better at reading him over their journey together, and she can see the anxiety that’s running through him in his body language.  However, although the tapping of his fingers, the rubbing of his lips, and the crease between his brow is a major indication, she knows the real reason she’s aware of Harry’s nerves is because she’s hyper aware of her own.

“You, uh—” Harry clears his throat quietly, the action half reflex, half habit. “You looked really pretty today.  Beautiful, actually.”

A light flush heats Y/N’s cheeks, both from the wine and his compliment. “Thank you.” She murmurs, glancing down at her forest coloured dress. “I’m just glad the dress survived the car.”

A chuckle falls from Harry’s lips as he lifts his wine glass again. “Yeah.  A real miracle, huh?”

Y/N taps her fingers anxiously against the kitchen island, the coolness of the countertop a nice contrast to her heated skin. “Well, considering all the things that didn’t survive…” She trails off, watching as Harry’s face falls when the meaning of her words washes over him.

Still, Harry steels his shoulders, resolve painting itself over his pained features. “You mean us, yeah?” His tone is blunt and to the point. “After we…?”

“I just—what the fuck was that, Harry?” Y/N asks, her voice every bit as exasperated and exhausted as she feels. “I thought we—and then you—and now, saying you—you’ve always…?”

“I know I’ve been—I know I fucked up.” Harry drops his head, shame clear in his voice as he twists a ring around one of his fingers. “I know that, Y/N.  I’m so sorry—”

“I’m just so confused, Harry.  Really, I—” The words spill out of her now, faster than they ever have. “I know we were drunk when we fucked, but I…I liked it.  And the next morning felt so good, and so right, and then Brant called, and it was like…a switch flipped inside you.  And you called us a mistake.  So I just—I don’t understand how you could say that less than forty-eight hours ago, and then tell me you’ve always loved being around me tonight.”

Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips once before he inhales slowly, collecting and preparing himself for the conversation. “I’m sorry.” He says lowly, his accent thicker with remorse. “I didn’t want to—I felt like it was a mistake, but not because of anything you did.  It was because I knew that I had feelings for you, and I knew that you didn’t have feelings for me.”

The admission of his feelings was clear in his speech before he actually spoke the words, but the verbal acknowledgement of them still leaves an ache in Y/N’s chest as she refutes the statement. “You didn’t know that!” She says hotly, her hand tightening around her glass with every breath. “You wouldn’t let us talk about it, so how could you know?”

“Because Brant called!” While Harry’s voice doesn’t raise in volume, it does in intensity. “Brant called, and asked you to dinner, and you said yes!”

“What, did you want me to break things off with him right then and there?  Over the phone?” Y/N demands, an incredulous look on her face as she appraises Harry. “I’m not a bitch, Harry.  That would be heartless, and I’m not—I don’t want to hurt anyone. And maybe, maybe, it would be different if I felt anything for Brant, anything that was even a fraction of what I’ve felt for you, the good and the bad, but I don’t!”

Y/N’s words hang heavy in the air between them, flickering through the room like the dim light of the light fixture above them.  There’s just enough light, however, that she can watch as her words roll over Harry, sinking into every pore of his body until all the defiance rolls out of him.

“What—” His voice cracks with emotion, and he takes a moment to compose himself before he tries again. “What do you feel for me?”

Turning her eyes down to her wine, she raises the glass to her lips, draining more than half of it in one swift motion.  When she speaks again, her voice is slick with the liquor. “What does it matter?” She asks softly. “If you couldn’t believe it enough to not try to push me away the moment I let myself be vulnerable?”

“It wasn’t—your vulnerability wasn’t apparent to me.” Harry lifts the wine bottle automatically, refilling Y/N’s glass with merlot. “It was mine that scared me.  Brant called, and you spoke to him, and I felt like—it was like that first date all over again, when you gave your attention to that guy from your class.  I felt…” Staring into his own wine, Harry mulls over his words as if the liquor can reveal the perfect thing to say. “I felt like a jealous teenager again, like a proper idiot.  And I—you’ve always been so much more put together than me, and refined, and steady, and Brant clearly fits into your world neatly, so I—”

“Stop fucking doing that.” Y/N’s voice is as sharp as ice, as harsh as frostbite. “How many times can we prove to each other that we’re more than our projections of the last seven years?  How many times until it sticks?”

Harry studies Y/N’s face, his emerald eyes scanning over every slope and curve of her expression before he replies. “I didn’t think you felt anything for me.  I’m still not…sure…”

“Harry, I feel—I feel everything with you.” Y/N’s voice drops to a hushed whisper, as if what she’s admitting is top secret. “I feel like I can be myself.  I can be as stupid or serious as I need to be, and you’ll just…accept it.  The only person I’ve ever felt that with before is Jo.  No one else.  And it—it’s terrifying, but good, and then you pushed me away again, and that fucking hurt.  You have the ability to hurt me now, and the moment you got it, you did.”

“I didn’t know.” Harry mumbles the words, rubbing his hand over his flushed cheeks slowly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.  If I’d known—”

“But you didn’t even ask. You can’t do that, okay?” When Y/N looks up at him, she can see the vulnerability on her face reflected in Harry’s eyes. “Please.  I don’t care if you get jealous, or angry, or—or anything else that’s as irritating as I know you can be—” A soft snort echoes from Harry. “Just be honest with me. Tell me.  Ask me.”

“What about…” Harry reaches across the kitchen island, taking Y/N’s hand in his own and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “What I said to you earlier?  I told you how I felt.   And I asked what you feel for me.  Can you be honest with me about that?”

“I can.” Y/N says carefully, pursing her lips for a moment. “I…I’m not sure if I’m ready to say something as…decisive as you do.  I’ve never really—I know that I feel…more intensely for you than I ever have for anyone else.  I just don’t know…how intense, or…I can’t describe it.”

“Maybe I can help.” Harry tugs gently on Y/N’s arm, bringing her around the kitchen island to his side of the room.  With his hand still holding hers, he leads her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her with him.  He’s mindful of the skirt of her dress, fixing it carefully so that it doesn’t get caught beneath her. “To me, love is…wanting to be near the other person. Do you want to be near me?”

Y/N nods softly. “I do.” She whispers into the darkness, the cabin quiet save for their breathing and the chirping of crickets outside.

“And what about…” Harry lifts a hand to caress her face, his calloused fingers gentle against her warm skin as he brushes over her cheekbone. “This?  Do you like being touched by me?”

Y/N’s skin burns beneath his touch. “I do.  A lot, actually.”

“And even when we were arguing…when we weren’t speaking to each other, and wouldn’t look at each other…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, the motion staining his lips an even darker pink than they were before. “Did you want me as badly as I wanted you?”

Harry’s other hand begins to rub Y/N’s thigh over her dress, still heating her skin even with the layers of fabric preventing actual contact.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the sensation. “Yes.” She breathes, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “I did.  I still do.”

“Obviously, I…I’d like it if you could know exactly how you feel, but…” Harry shrugs slightly, his hand drifting down to rest on the side of Y/N’s neck. “I know that it’s different for you.  You’re not used to it.  You don’t have to put a label on it, yeah?  I just want you to be comfortable with me.  As long as you’re mine, you can take as long as you need to express how you feel.”

Relief spreads through Y/N’s body at Harry’s words.  The freedom to take her time, to feel like she doesn’t need to have all the answers right away, is something that none of her past partners have ever offered her, and a familiar sensation begins to curl itself around Y/N’s core as Harry caresses her neck. “Yours?” She repeats slowly, her senses feeling like they’re processing through molasses. “Am I yours?”

“I’d like you to be.” The corner of Harry’s pink lip pulls up, but there’s an air of anxiety in his words. “Are you?”

The fabric of her dress swishes beneath Y/N as she pulls herself into Harry’s, managing to settle one knee of either side of him beneath the layers of tulle. “I am.” She murmurs, her hands wrapping themselves around his sturdy shoulders.  Their noses bump together as she moves closer, breath mingling in the small space between their lips. “I’ll be yours.”

Harry’s breath washes over her as he sighs gently, the fragrance of merlot and champagne settling on the back of her tongue. “Laure and Jo will be happy.”

A small laugh, mostly an exhale of breath more than anything else, sounds from Y/N as she twists the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck between her fingers. “Mmm.  Probably because they won’t have to break up any more fights.”

“No, no, we’ll still fight. It keeps things interesting.” Harry’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, his nose brushing over Y/N’s once more as he tilts his head to the side. “We’ll just have a lot more fun when we make up with each other.”

Harry’s fingers find the bare expanse of Y/N’s back between the straps of her dress, gliding his fingertips over her warm skin.  The sensation of his cool touch against her sends a shiver up her spine, and she twists herself closer to him in return, but keeps the inch gap between their lips. There’s an anticipation between them, but also a stubbornness.  A refusal to be the first one to break.

“A lot more fun?” Y/N questions, massaging the tips of her fingers into Harry’s scalp.  She lets her painted nails scratch along him gently, just enough to make his eyelids flutter at the sensation. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I could tell you…” Harry purrs his words, pressing his head back into the palm of her hand. “Or I could show you.  It’s up to you.”

His words offer Y/N a choice.  Will she continue to push him?  Or will she give in?

When her hands retreat from his hair, Harry whines quietly, his half lidded eyes staring up at her in confusion.  Y/N braces herself against his shoulders as she carefully removes herself from his lap, picking up the fabric of her dress with one hand while grabbing the half empty bottle of wine with the other.

Harry watches as she takes a step backwards, her eyes glued to his as she appraises him.  As comfortable—and as attractive—as he looks on the couch with his emerald slack covered legs spread, sleeves half rolled up, chest heaving from their close contact, Y/N needs him somewhere else.

Harry’s tongue glides slowly over his parted lips as Y/N raises the bottle of wine to her mouth, taking a small sip before turning on her heel and walking to the staircase that leads up to the master bedroom of the cabin.  She only gets two steps up the stairs before she feels Harry’s hot breath on the back of her neck, his back and arms bracing against her as she climbs slowly.  With one hand still holding her dress out of her way, Y/N steps over the summit of the stairs, not waiting for Harry before she makes her way to the bedroom.

The bedroom itself has been tidied by the hotel staff since Y/N last saw it, and she’s never been more thankful for it; she and Jo had left it in a mess in their efforts to get ready that morning.  Instead, the staff have perfectly made the bed, complete with all the decorative pillows that Y/N had tossed onto the floor the night before, set fresh candles on the night tables and dresser, and left carefully rolled white towels on the edge of the bed.

A pair of tattooed arms wrap around Y/N’s waist, and a smile lights up her face as she falls back into Harry’s strong chest. “Your room is lovely.  Much nicer than those motels.” He rasps in her ear, teeth just barely grazing her lobe as he speaks. “Do you have a lighter for the candles?”

“You want to light candles?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she drops her dress from her hand in order to trail her fingers over Harry’s wrist. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

Pressing a light kiss to her neck, Harry shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He murmurs. “We were so rushed last time.  I want to enjoy tonight.”

A smile creeps over Y/N’s face as she carefully unlaces Harry’s hands from her waist. “The lighter is in the bedside table, on the left.”

As Harry turns his attention to searching through the drawer, Y/N sets the wine down on the dresser, appraising her reflection in the mirror propped on top of it.  She begins to unpin the hair that had been carefully styled that morning, her hair only a fraction as put together as it had been. Setting the pins down on the wood surface in front of her, she takes her time taking off her earrings and bracelets, her eyes following Harry’s movements in the mirror.

The broad expanse of his back is still covered by his green waistcoat, rumpled as it stretches over the slope of his body.  With each movement, a new flicker of candlelight begins to glow in front of him, illuminating the silhouette of his body with soft flickers of orange and yellow.

“You’re a bit of a romantic, aren’t you?” The question slips from Y/N’s lips before she’s turned around completely to watch Harry’s actions without the aid of the mirror. “You like this sort of thing—the candles, the cabin in the forest, coming from a wedding…”

Harry’s body shakes as a laugh rolls through him, his side profile barely visible as he turns to light another candle next to the bed. “I suppose I am, yeah.  Are you not?”

Y/N gives half a shrug, tucking her now loose hair behind her ears as best she can. “I don’t know. I’ve never really considered myself one…never saw the point in grand gestures.  They’re not very realistic.”

“They don’t have to be realistic.  That’s why it’s a grand gesture.” Harry says easily, sauntering towards her with a dimpled grin on his face.  He reaches carefully behind Y/N, his thumb flicking the lighter to spark as he tilts the candle towards the flame. “And I’d hardly call candles a grand gesture. Haven’t you ever been properly romanced?”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplates the question. “Not…really? I mean, there’s been a few things, but nothing…I don’t know.  We were always busy—”

“You can always make time for someone if you want to.” Harry sets the lit candle back down on the dresser, repeating the motion with two more before setting the lighter down as well. “Hasn’t Brant ever—well, I know he hasn’t, actually—” A snort leaves Harry’s mouth as he begins to run his hands over Y/N’s bare shoulders, massaging the skin gently. “Haven’t any of your exes asked you what you wanted, or…done something spontaneous for you, like a surprise gift, or trip, or…?”

Harry trails off as he registers the expression on Y/N’s face, and feels the tensing of her shoulders beneath his hands. “Um, not really.” She says, doing her best to keep her tone light. “We were always very…scheduled.  A surprise trip wasn’t really feasible.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth tugs down into a frown, his hands continuing to work over the knots in Y/N’s shoulders as he turns her around.  He presses himself behind her, moving her hair to one side of her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her spine. “The more we speak, the more I see why you’re so guarded, love.” He murmurs, his tone carefully controlled. “You don’t need to be like that with me.  If you’re…afraid of what I’ll think, or…you know I tease you, but you’re always fine with me.  We can be serious—”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, glancing at Harry over the curve of her own shoulder as she rests one hand over his own. “I don’t want to be serious.  I’m so sick of being serious.” She maneuvers Harry’s hand to her back as she speaks, guiding his fingers until they find the zipper of her dress. “I like that you tease me, and aren’t afraid to irritate me, and how you care enough to listen to what I say…”

The sound of her zipper slowly being tugged down pricks Y/N’s ears, and she watches Harry’s movement in the mirror.  There’s a clear look of concentration painted onto his expression as he helps remove her dress, but the moment he catches her eye, he locks into her gaze.  As he finishes pulling down the zipper, he keeps his emerald eyes glued to hers in the reflective surface, his stare becoming more and more hypnotic with every passing second.

“So what you’re saying is…” Harry’s lips brush against her ear as he leans closer to her, pressing a sensual kiss right over her pulse point. “You want me to romance you, but still annoy the shit out of you?”

Although it’s breathless, the sound that leaves Y/N’s mouth is unmistakably a laugh as Harry begins to trail kisses down her neck, slipping the strap of her dress down her shoulder. “Yes. It’s oddly endearing.”

“Oddly endearing is my middle name.” Harry’s laugh matches hers as his hands continue their task of removing her clothing.  Once Y/N’s straps are free of her shoulders, Harry helps her step out of the hunter green dress, carefully maneuvering the full skirt to the corner chair without creasing it.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty dress, now would—” Harry freezes mid sentence as he turns back around, his mouth falling slack as if seeing Y/N for the first time.

Despite having been naked and underneath his body less than forty eight hours ago, Y/N crosses her arms over her body.  The black teddy bodysuit she’d purchased to wear under her bridesmaid dress had, at the time of purchase, been more for practicality than anything.  The underwire of the strapless bra supported by the corseted middle was comfortable enough to keep her properly situated in her dress without a wardrobe malfunction, as well as serving as a barrier between Y/N’s sensitive skin and the stitched seams of the gown.  It’s not until this moment, with Harry staring at her with a hungry stupor in his eyes, does Y/N realize how racy the undergarment is.

“What?” She says after a moment, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “I—it’s not like you haven’t seen me before.”

The nerves woven into her tone are enough to snap Harry from his thoughts. “This is…different.” He approaches her again, his steps slow and measured as he lays a hand on her lace covered side. “I was pissed last time I had you…didn’t get to properly take in the sight of you…” Harry scratches his nails over one of the mesh panels, his jade eyes darkening another shade once more.

“I didn’t get to enjoy you, either.  And yet you’re still fully clothed.” Y/N begins to fiddle with the buttons of Harry’s emerald waistcoat, working them open one by one as she forces herself to steady her breathing. “That’s not very fair, is it?”

“I suppose it’s not. Not fair at all.” Harry allows her to pull his waistcoat from his body, and it’s not until Y/N reaches the third button of his button down shirt that she realizes how much he’s enjoying her undressing him.

Every breath that Harry takes is ragged and shallow, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself controlled as Y/N’s fingers trail down the exposed skin of his chest.  The sight of Harry’s throat tightening as her nails scrape his skin is too much for her to resist, and she quickly attaches her lips to the base of his neck as she pulls the now unbuttoned shirt from his body.

Swiping her tongue over the new mark at the base of his throat, Y/N manages to pull a moan from Harry, and her lips pull back into a small smile against his hot skin at the sound. “You sound really nice when you do that.” She murmurs, her hand trailing down to his belt as she speaks.

She can feel Harry swallow again, and when he replies, his voice is as low as she’s ever heard it. “Then you’ll have to make me do it more, won’t you, pet?” His eyes are blown darker with lust as he grips Y/N’s hips tight, pressing the pads of his fingers into her flesh. “Are you going to give me moans that are just as pretty?  Or am I going to have to pull them from your stubborn little mouth?”  

Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest at his dominant tone, her mouth falling open in a gasp against Harry’s collar bones.  She can feel the vibrations of his laugh in her lips, the tingle not unlike the burning she feels in her core, and Harry’s hand travels from her hips to her chin as the burning increases.

“Cat got your tongue, hm?” Harry grips Y/N’s chin between his thumb and forefinger as she fumbles with his belt, the action clumsier without her looking at her movements. “Don’t get all shy now, m’love.  It’s just me. We’ve been here before.”

Pulling his belt from his dress pants, Y/N tosses it to the side, her fingers resting on the warm skin of Harry’s abdomen. “I know.  It just feels different now, that’s all.  After everything we said, and…” Her eyes are unable to hold his as she drifts off, and she drops her gaze to his swallow tattoos as her cheeks redden.

A gentle tap on her chin brings her eyes back to meet Harry’s intense gaze. “I know it feels different, but that’s not bad.” Harry’s voice softens as his thumb begins to stroke over her skin, the motion slow and gentle. “It can be really good, actually. I told you, I can properly enjoy you now.  If you’ll let me, that is.  It’s up to you.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip as she reaches behind her back.  Her fingers quickly find the laces at the back of the garment, and she pulls the tie undone slowly, making sure to keep her eyes locked with Harry’s the entire time. “I want that.  I want you, Harry.  I want…all of you.”

She barely has her laces undone before Harry is grasping at her hips, pulling her body tight against his again for another desperate kiss.  His lips glide between hers smoothly, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle before he lets his teeth nip at her bottom lip, tugging at the flesh in a hungry way.  With her lingerie hanging loosely off her body, Harry easily yanks the material down her body, fully exposing Y/N’s breasts and stomach.  

The sight of her exposed skin is enough to grab Harry’s attention from the removal of clothing, and he leaves the lace bodysuit hanging at her hips as his kisses begin to travel down her jaw, her neck, her collar bones, to her breasts.  A breathless gasp falls from Y/N’s mouth as Harry’s open mouthed kisses become wetter and longer, until his hot mouth is wrapped around her stiff nipple.

“Harry—” Y/N tangles a hand in his already ruined curls, yanking hard at his hair as his teeth scrape against her sensitive skin. “God, be careful—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry murmurs the phrase against her breast, barely pulling his mouth off enough to speak.  His eyes, although half lidded with lust, flicker up to her with a playful look. “Y’really want me to be careful, pet?  Or do you want me to devour you?”

His words send another flood of heat to her core, and it takes all of Y/N’s focus to keep herself standing upright. “Shut up.” She mutters, voice pitched higher than normal as she tugs on Harry’s hair again, half in need and half to solicit a groan from him.

The groan he emits, however, just adds more sensation to his teasing as the sound causes a vibration against her nipple, and Y/N barely manages to pull Harry away from her before her knees buckle.

Harry, however, wastes no time, and it’s only the moment after Y/N pulls him off of her that he’s kissing her again, teeth clacking against teeth as he backs her up towards the bed.  When the back of her legs hits the mattress, Y/N stumbles back, but Harry catches her in time to lower her gently to the bed.

There’s an unmistakable tenderness in the movement, and the action catches Y/N right in the throat. “Thought you weren’t being careful?” Despite her ribbing tone, Y/N’s voice is breathless as she settles back into the soft sheets. “Isn’t that what you just said, pet?”

A growl rips from the back of Harry’s throat as he cages himself over her shaking body, his mouth already reattached to her chest to leave a fresh trail of bruises from her sternum to her abdomen. “You’re such a bloody minx, y’know that?”

Although she opens her mouth to reply, the only sound that leaves Y/N’s lips is a gasp as Harry quickly lifts her hips to pull her teddy completely off, tossing it to the side without so much as a glance.  He leaves one last bite on her lower abdomen, just hard enough to leave an imprint of his mouth, before soothing the mark with a wet swipe of his tongue over the red skin.

“Knees up, minx.” Harry’s accent is thick, dripping from his voice like honey as his hands rub her lower calves, helping to push them up on the bed until Y/N’s legs are bent and spread open in a position he likes.  The way that Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips tells Y/N of his intentions right away, and she braces herself on her elbows on the bed before pulling back.

Harry, who had been leaving open mouthed kisses along Y/N’s knees, makes a disgruntled sound at the loss of contact. “Where do y’think you’re going?” He asks in frustration, pulling himself onto the bed and crawling after her.  Gripping one of her ankles, he spreads her open again, resuming the path his mouth had been making to her core a moment ago. “Trying to get away from me?”

A breathless laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “More like trying to get comfortable.  It’s been so long since I’ve had someone…” Despite Harry’s position between her legs, Y/N can’t bring herself to say the words.

“Had someone what? Eat your cunt?” Harry asks crudely, raising an eyebrow as he kisses her inner thigh.  His hot breath rolls over her core, causing Y/N to sigh as she relaxes back into the sheets. “That’s a tragedy, love.  Especially when you taste so sweet.  I remember from a few nights ago…I just barely got a taste when we…”

She should know better, Y/N thinks.  She should know, now that she knows Harry well enough, that something like this is coming, especially since it’s exactly what he did last time he was between her legs. Still, when his ringed index finger runs quickly between her folds, becoming coated in her wetness just for Harry to pop it into his mouth like a satisfied and smug ass, Y/N half jumps off the bed.

“Sensitive, are you?” Harry laughs around his finger, taking great care to lick off every bit of her wetness. “Just as sensitive as you are sweet.”

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, doing her best to give him a scathing look. “You could’ve warned me, you—”

Her complaint is cut off abruptly by Harry licking over her slit with the flat of his tongue, collecting every drop of arousal before suctioning his lips over her clit. “What was that?” He mutters between his actions, flicking his tongue over Y/N’s clit as she grasps the sheets between her fingers. “I didn’t quite catch it, love.”

Falling back onto the pillows, Y/N allows her eyes to close for just a moment as she twists the cotton sheets between her hands. “Shut—shut up.” She moans, one hand releasing the sheets to latch onto Harry’s curls.  She tugs harshly, and the moan he releases sends shivers from her core into her spine.

Although Harry laughs against her, his smirk detectable against her folds as his tongue continues to work over her, a silence falls between them as he continues to eat her out. It shouldn’t be surprising, she manages to think as she tugs on his curly locks, that Harry is giving her the best oral she’s ever received.  Everything he does to her, from irritating her, making her laugh, to pleasuring her, is so intense that it only makes sense.

Harry’s tongue dips inside Y/N’s entrance, proving that thought to be true for what seems to be the millionth time that night.  Y/N can’t help but writhe on the sheets now, her body unable to contain the pleasure that’s building inside her core like never before.

When a gasping whine echoes from Y/N, a sound she’s never even heard herself make before, one of Harry’s hands moves from its position on her thigh, where he’s been holding her open so he can continue to work.  It travels up her leg to her pelvis, pressing flat on her lower abdomen and keeping her hips secure to the bed.

“You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you, pet?” Harry’s mouth is red, coated with her wetness when he glances at her.  He begins to rub circles on her abdomen, both soothing her and creating an ache deep inside her that she knows can only be satisfied by his cock. “You’re going to be a good girl and cum on my mouth, yeah?”

Y/N whimpers in response, barely managing to keep her eyes open as she nods desperately. “I-I need—your fingers, or—”

“No, no, pet, you don’t need that.” Harry assures her between long licks over her clit. “I’ll fill you later, but you’re going to cum from my mouth.  I know you can do it, love.  I know you can.”

“I—” Harry’s hand pressed to her abdomen is the only thing keeping Y/N from rutting her hips into the air in desperation. “Please, Harry, I—”

“You can do it.” Breath hot against her entrance, Harry dips his tongue within her again, moving it in and out slowly as his nose brushes against her sensitive bundle of nerves. “You—fuck—you’re so ready, Y/N, I know you can do it…just relax, pet…let go…”

Let go.  The command is so simple, and yet, isn’t that all Y/N’s ever wanted?  Isn’t that exactly what Harry has managed to allow her to do this entire trip?  No sooner does the thought cross her mind that Harry’s teeth graze over her clit, tweaking it ever so gently before pressing the flat of his tongue against it once more.  He gives a harsh suck, mouthing something she can’t understand, and then Y/N is tugging on his chestnut curls with a renewed desperation as she falls over the brink of pleasure.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…” His name is the only thing Y/N can repeat as she orgasms, her head falling back against the pillows while the waves of her pleasure wash over her.

Harry untangles her hand from the sheets, weaving his fingers through her own to give her something solid to hold onto as she loses herself in the sensations.  Although he keeps his mouth pressed to her, his actions are gentler, just licking the wetness that drips from her entrance as she rides out her orgasm.

It takes a few moment for the pleasure to recede enough that Y/N can become aware of her surroundings again. Chest heaving, she lolls her head to the side, her hand falling from Harry’s curls and onto the crumpled sheets.

Harry finally pulls away from her then, pulling himself from between her legs to the side of Y/N’s shaking body.  He licks his wet lips, savouring the last drops of her arousal before pressing softer kisses to her stomach, her sternum, her collar bones, until he reaches her lips.

“You alright, love?” Harry asks, voice quiet in the hum of the night as he settles beside her.  He brushes a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead, and the motion is so gentle that Y/N almost tears up. “Just take some deep breaths.”

“I—” Y/N sucks in another breath as Harry wraps an arm around her stomach. “I’m alright.  Just…trying to catch my breath.” She laughs nervously as her cheeks redden in a post-orgasm haze. “You’re, uh, you’re really good at that.”

Harry’s laugh is much more amused than hers. “Thank you.  I quite enjoy it, so it would be rather sad if I wasn’t good at it.”

“That’s true.” Y/N hums, rolling her head onto Harry’s shoulder.  He rubs small circles on her waist, and the action gives her something to focus on as she evens her breathing.

Harry sighs in satisfaction. “You know, if you had shagged Brant, I doubt his cunnilingus skills would have been as good as mine.” He says thoughtfully, as if he’s been pondering the idea for a while.

Y/N groans, bracing her hand against is muscled chest to shove him away. “Do not mention Brant while I’m lying next to you naked!  Christ, I shouldn’t have to say that!”

Harry laughs as he readjusts himself, pulling his body over hers while his lips work against her neck. “I’m sorry.  I won’t bring him up again, I swear.”

Huffing slightly, Y/N settles herself back into the sheets. “Good.”

“But for the record—”

“If you keep speaking, I’m not giving you a blowjob.” Y/N warns, shooting Harry a warning glance. “Are you prepared to give that up?”

The speed at which Harry’s face falls is almost comical.  His brow creases as his ruby lips pull down into a pout, his arms keeping himself suspended above Y/N as he relents. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Truly, I am.  I’ll stop.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes focus on Harry’s shining green irises. “Good, because I really want to blow you.”

The crude admission catches Harry by surprise, his eyebrows jumping up in shock as he rolls to the side. Propping himself up on his elbow, he rakes a hand through his messy curls as he answers with a measured tone. “You do?”

Y/N nods slowly, pushing herself up to sit on her knees as one of her hands begins to trace over the muscles of Harry’s chest. “I do.  Like you said…I didn’t get to last time.  And I bet you taste good.”

Harry sucks in a breath through his teeth as he gives a sharp nod. “Yeah.  Okay.  If you want to—”

“I do.” Y/N presses on Harry’s chest to push him back again, but this time she does it carefully, settling him back into the sheets like he did for her.  Moving so that she’s on her knees beside him, she gives him a quick kiss, only letting herself enjoy his slightly chapped lips against hers for a moment before she directs her attention to the bulge in his Calvin Klein boxers.

Y/N trails a finger over the line of hair leading to the waistband, feeling the muscles of Harry’s abdomen contract under her finger. “Sensitive, huh?” She asks quietly, mimicking what he had said to her before earlier.

Harry inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “Yeah.  So don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.  I’m just…warming you up.” Y/N continues the motion for a moment before her fingers drift to the elastic of his boxers.  She dips a finger beneath it, continuing to tease his abdomen before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his clothed bulge.

Harry’s hips jerk in reaction, his mouth falling open as he spits out a curse. “Bloody hell…”

“Feel good?” Y/N only lifts her mouth enough so that the soft murmur can be heard.  She can feel Harry’s cock twitching as her lips move over it, and the thought that she’s turning him on enough for him to twitch in his boxers sends a flood of heat between her thighs.

“Feels really good, yeah.” Harry’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and the effort it takes to keep his voice controlled is apparent on his face. “Keep going.”

Y/N hums in response, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulling them down his legs as Harry lifts his hips.  She waits until his boxers are completely removed to turn her attention back to his cock, and the sight of it makes her mouth water.

It’s just as big as she remembers, with a slight curve along the length leading to the red and leaking head. Y/N can practically see the heat radiating off of it, she thinks, and when she wraps her hand around the base, her suspicions are confirmed.

The weak groan that falls from Harry’s cherry red lips is the only thing that keeps Y/N from getting completely distracted by admiring him.  She pumps him slowly a few times, and his length throbs in her hand as more blood floods to his pelvis.  Licking her lips once, Y/N leans down and gives a small kitten lick to the leaking tip, collecting the precum on her tongue.

A garbled moan sounds from Harry’s chest, and Y/N watches from the corner of her eye as one hand tucks into his own curls before the other gathers her hair within his fist. Although he’s holding her, he doesn’t force her down, or try to guide her motions.  He wants to see what she’s going to do of her own accord.

Y/N takes her time, licking slowly from the head of Harry’s cock to one of the pulsing veins that runs down his shaft.  She traces the line with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the sounds that the action pulls from Harry before taking the head of his cock between her lips. Mindful of her teeth, she sucks slowly, pushing herself further and further down his length until her nose is just touching his pelvis.

“That’s it, minx.” Harry moans his words, his voice breathless and strained as he cards his fingers through her hair.  His flushed chest is rising and falling prominently as Harry takes deep breath after deep breath. “Doing so well, aren’t you?”

The praise sends a wave of delight through Y/N, and she begins to bob her head faster, working what she can’t fit into her mouth with her hand.  Harry, she learns, is extremely vocal during sex, which isn’t exactly surprising now that she knows him better.  Still, his moans and whimpers are all the encouragement Y/N needs to keep her pace, slowing down only to tease him.  And she loves to tease him.

“Fuck—” A groan rips from Harry’s chest as Y/N slows her motions again, trailing her tongue up his length before focusing on his tip with great interest. “C’mon, darling, don’t be mean to me.  I wasn’t mean to you.”

“I’m just enjoying myself, Harry.” Y/N says innocently, batting her eyes at him as she kisses the head of his cock. “Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?”

The question is simple enough, but the sinful context makes Harry buck his hips into her hand. “Y’know I do, pet, but you’re torturing me…”

Y/N lifts her mouth from his length with a quiet pop as her strokes slow down. “Am I?”

“Fucking hell—” Another moan forces its way through Harry’s clenched teeth. “You won’t be laughing when I’m fucking you at the same pace you’re teasing me right now.”

Y/N’s movements stutter for the first time since she began. “What?”

“Didn’t think of that, did you, minx?  Thought you could tease me, and I wouldn’t get you back?” Although Harry’s words are domineering, he pants through them, throwing his head back against the pillow. “That—Christ—That’s not how it works.”

Speeding up her stroking of his length, Y/N leans over Harry’s body, sponging a kiss just at the corner of his lips. “You don’t mean that, Harry.  You need to fuck me just as badly as I need it.”

“You need it, do you?” Harry’s eyes snap open, lust completely clouding the jade green of his irises. “How badly?  Tell me.”

Y/N kisses him once more, pulling back the moment his tongue tries to pull her in for more.  She returns her mouth to the tip of his cock, letting her tongue flick over his slit before sucking on him again. “So badly, Harry. I’ve never felt as full as I did with you in me…”

“Oh fuck…” Harry’s words slip into drawn out moans as he tugs on his own hair, his hips stuttering up into her hand again. “Stop.”

The sudden command makes Y/N pause, and she pulls her mouth off of Harry’s length to stare up at him with wide eyes. “What?” Her hand pauses its motions, but stays wrapped loosely around his base. “Is—is everything okay?  Did I hurt you?”

The concern and fear in Y/N’s voice is enough to snap Harry out whatever headspace he had been slipping into. “No, pet, you didn’t hurt me.  I just need to be inside your tight cunt.  Can’t stand another moment without it, if I’m honest.”

The twitch of his cock in her hands confirms his words, and Y/N gives one last lick to its biggest vein before releasing him.  She keeps her mouth in use, however, by sponging kisses up Harry’s already marked chest, stopping only once she reaches his lips.

The kiss they share is passionate, with a rhythm finally established between the two of them as Harry slots his plump lips neatly between hers.  There’s no awkward turning of their heads, trying to find a way to slip a tongue into a mouth, and no teeth clicking together.  Already, each of them knows the best way to fit together, as if they were meant to all along.

“How do you—” Harry mutters the words against Y/N’s lips, his breath flowing into her own panting mouth with every gasp. “How do you want me, love?”

Y/N takes a moment to think, but only a moment. “On top.  I like…” Her cheeks flush with even more heat. “I like feeling you over me. And holding your hands…”

Harry raises a surprised brow at the confession she spills into his mouth. “My hands?”

Forehead still pressed against his, Y/N nods, picking up one of his hands and lacing his ringed fingers through her own. “Mhmm.  They’re strong, and…and they fit in mine so nicely.” Y/N glances at Harry through her lashes, shy despite having his cock in her mouth less than a minute ago.  It’s the intimacy, she realizes.  A sexual act is nothing new to her, but putting emotion behind it…

“They do fit together well, don’t they?” Harry agrees, squeezing her hand as he leans forward, pressing puckered lips to her forehead. “Alright, then.  Lie down for me.”

After Harry grabs a condom from Y/N’s bag and rolls it on, it takes a moment for the two of them to get positioned comfortably.  Y/N leans back on the rumpled sheets, fixing one of the pillows behind her head with Harry’s help.  Once he knows that she’s comfortable, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs again, situating himself between them with his arms propped up on either side of her body.

Although it’s the same position as the last time they had sex, Y/N can’t help but feel like it’s entirely different in every single aspect.  While the drunken need that she felt for Harry had been exciting, and while he had satisfied her incredibly, there’s something different about knowing that she has feelings for the man who’s so interested in pleasuring her, and that he has feelings for her in return.

Harry moves one hand to his length, rubbing the tip of it between Y/N’s soaked folds as his other hand grasps her own. “Are you ready?” He murmurs, his lips hovering just over her own.

Y/N nods quickly, squeezing his hand tightly. “Please, H.  I need it.”

The first thrust into her is slow.  Painstakingly slow.  Y/N knows that she should be appreciative of the restrain Harry has, and that she needs a moment to adjust to his size, but the way he stretches her makes her feel so complete that she can’t help but whine for more.

“Faster, Harry.” She pants, squeezing her eyes shut as he continues to enter her slick entrance. “I…”

“Sh, love.  Just spreading you open first, yeah?” The effort to control himself shows through the strain in his voice, but Harry still manages to sponge a quick kiss over her lips. “Besides…I warned you, didn’t I?  Said I’d tease you if you teased me…”

Y/N whines loudly as Harry finally bottoms out, his hips pressing flush to hers and bringing a kind of euphoric fullness that she’s never felt before. “Oh God…” She drags out her speech, her eyes barely managing to flutter open in time to catch the look on Harry’s face as he feels her walls squeeze him.

His brows are drawn together, an all too familiar crease appearing between them.  It’s a look of concentration, but the pull of his mouth and the quiet pants leaving it tell Y/N that it’s so much more than that. His pupils are blown out, dilated so much that she can barely see the green that she loves so much, and every few moments, Harry’s eyelids flutter, times perfectly with the contraction of Y/N’s pussy around his length.  

“Move, Harry.” Y/N begs, grasping his free hand and squeezing it along with his other hand. “Please.”

Her pleading sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, and he begins to thrust in and out of her slowly, letting her adjust to each pace before gradually increasing his movements. “Like that, pet?” He asks, voice low and thick with pleasure. “Is that what you wanted?”

A whine is all the answer he gets, as Y/N is so far gone past the point of being able to reply with a coherent sentence.  The only thing she can think of is how good it feels to have Harry fill her.  How the feeling of his cock inside her is simultaneously too much for her, the most content she’s ever felt, and not enough to satisfy the ache deep within her.  Every one of her senses is consumed with Harry—the touch of his skin to hers, at her pelvis, over her abdomen, his hands squeezing hers with desperation as he thrusts inside of her repeatedly.  The scent of his cologne mingled with his sweat, so hot and all consuming that the air feels thick with it.  The taste of that scent on the back of her tongue, along with his Merlot flavoured kisses that linger in her mouth.  The sight of him caged over her, his sweaty curls and flushed skin being all that she can see.  The sound of his moans, hot and low in her ear.

Everything is Harry. Had there every been a time where it wasn’t?

When Harry pulls his hands from Y/N’s, a small whimper stumbles out of her mouth, growing louder when his thrusts begin to slow and the ball of tension in her core begins to uncoil. “What—?” She begins, the question still half formed on her tongue when Harry moves his grip to her knees.

In one swift motion, Harry has her left knee over his shoulder, quickly repeating the movement with her right leg as he sponges stuttered kisses over the newly available skin.  “Need to be deeper.” He mutters, pressing a wet and breathless kiss to Y/N’s lips before sitting up for more leverage.  Weaving his fingers back through hers, Harry begins to thrust again, the head of his cock rubbing against new areas with every motion.

And oh.  It’s like an entirely new feeling.  The moans and whimpers are leaving Y/N’s mouth in a steady stream now, with any ability she had to filter her volume gone the moment Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot.

“Fuck, Harry, right there, baby—” Y/N releases one of his hands to throw her arm around his shoulder, digging her nails into the muscled skin as the words of pleasure slip past her lips. “That’s it, that’s so fucking good—”

“Yeah?” Harry grunts, bracing himself against the bed so that he can increase the speed of his movements. “You like how my cock fills you?”

Y/N nods desperately, the movement stuttered as she shakes from both her pleasure and the force of Harry driving his hips into her own. “Yeah, I—fuck, you’re going to make me cum…”

Harry’s face twists in concentration as he removes his braced hand from the bed and trails it down Y/N’s body, pausing just enough so that he can tweak her nipple as he passes by. He continues on until he reaches his destination, and settles his large thumb over her clit to rub fast and concise circles on the bundle of nerves.

“Oh—” Y/N’s back arches off the bed as her nails dig into the skin of Harry’s shoulder, as well as the back of his hand.  She barely manages to pant through her whimpered words. “Fuck, I’m going to cum—”

“Please, baby.” Harry pleads with her, his expression desperate as he stipples more kisses to Y/N’s knees, the only inches of skin that he can get his mouth on as he drives himself harder into her. “Need you to cum for me, I—fuck, minx, I need it more than you know.”

A sharp gasp falls from Y/N’s slick mouth as Harry hits her G-spot again, and the sharp repeated motion combined with his stimulation of her clit is enough to send her barrelling headfirst over the edge.  A desperate sound leaves her mouth, half moan, half whine, as the coil in Y/N’s core snaps, sending shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of her body.  

The reaction is almost instantaneous.  As her body shakes with pleasure, abdomen contracting and releasing over and over, Y/N feels Harry’s hips begin to stutter, his movement growing sloppier as the constriction of her core works Harry to an orgasm.

“Y/N—that’s it, pet, just—yes—” Harry’s words are more coherent than hers, but still just form a string of half put together phrases as he presses himself deep inside her, his eyes snapping shut as he spills inside the condom.  A choked sound works its way out of his throat, pulling from deep within his chest, and the pads of his rough fingers dig into her thighs as he grounds himself throughout his orgasm.  

Y/N’s shuddering climax finishes before Harry’s does, and all she can do is collapse back in the sheets, enjoying the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her one last time before he pulls out slowly to clean himself and throw away the condom.  An involuntary whine, quiet but audible, falls from her lips at the empty feeling that’s left behind, but it’s soon satiated after Harry returns to the bed, wrapping his shaking arms around her and pulling her tight into his chest.

His chest, like her own, is soaked in sweat, covered in dark bruises, and heaving from the aftermath of the orgasm he’s just finished, but it’s the only place Y/N wants to be.  She presses her ear into his skin, his racing heartbeat thumping beneath her head, and she focuses on the pounding pattern as she attempts to catch her breath.

Harry speaks first, clearing his throat before his wrecked voice fills her senses. “That was…that was so fucking good.  I was worried that it wouldn’t be as good as the last time, because we were more sober, but…”

“It was better, yeah. I know.” Y/N agrees, her voice filled with exhaustion and contentment as she kisses over a purple bruise forming on Harry’s collar bone. “I think…I think knowing how we feel made it better.”

“I agree.” Harry’s hands move over her back, his fingertips tracing invisible patterns onto her sweaty skin. “Passionate sex with someone you care for with candles lit…all after the wedding of your best friend…was that romantic enough for you?” There’s a teasing edge to his voice, just barely audible beneath the rasp.

A tired smile lifts the corners of Y/N’s swollen lips. “I suppose so.  But it’s not hard to be, in comparison to others…”

“Well, from now on, you’re going to be comparing to me, yeah?” Harry shifts his arms around her, tightening his grip before reaching for the crumpled sheet to pull it over their bodies. “This’ll be the marker, I suppose.  And I’ll have to work on raising the bar with everything I do for you.”

“What about what I’ll do for you?” Y/N just barely manages to raise her head off Harry’s chest enough to look at him. “This is a two way street, you know.  I have to romance you, too.”

“Mm.  True.” Harry hums as he resumes tracing patterns on Y/N’s skin. “How about you stop making fun of my taste in romantic movies?  I’d like to watch The Notebook without you poking fun at it.  If you’re laughing at all the emotional scenes, it makes me feel pathetic when I cry at them.”

Y/N laughs quietly as she rakes her fingers through Harry’s sweaty curls. “That’s asking too much from me. How about…I can still make fun of your taste in romantic movies, but I’ll hold you and comfort you when you cry at the really dumb scenes?”

An exhausted snort rolls through Harry’s chest, but there’s a degree of tenderness hidden in the sound. “I suppose that’s the best offer I’ll get, isn’t it?”

“You suppose right.” Y/N sighs contently, her eyes drifting shut as she settles herself into Harry’s chest.  The feeling of the subtle rise and fall of his muscles is enough to soothe her to sleep, and she’s just settling in for what she thinks may be the best sleep of her life when her head suddenly drops as Harry abruptly pulls away from her.

“Harry—” Y/N’s eyes snap open as she pulls herself into an upright position, any feeling of calm that she had a moment ago gone out the window. “What the fuck?”

A sheepish Harry smiles at her from the dresser. “We left the candles lit, love.” He says, blowing out the three lit candles on the wooden surface before walking to one of the bedside tables, where four more candles are lit. “It’s not safe.”

“No, you know what’s no safe?  Jerking your girlfriend from her sleep when she’s exhausted, and has to be up early tomorrow.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she flops back into the pillows.

Harry blows out the last candle before sliding back into the bed. “Would you rather I let the cabin burn down?  That wouldn’t be very romantic of me, now would it?”

Turning over on her side, Y/N faces the wall away from Harry. “You’re an asshole.”

“Don’t be mean.” Harry’s pout is tangible in the press of his lips to her bare shoulder. “We were having a moment!”

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry laughs as he wraps his arms around Y/N, pulling her to spoon into his chest. “Just go to sleep.  You’ll be less grumpy in the morning.”

“Fuck off.” Y/N mutters, but she allows herself to be held against Harry as his breathing once again soothes her to sleep.

…

“Are you sure I can’t drive?”

Harry laughs as he shuts the loaded trunk of the Impala, the sound echoing off the trees around them and scaring a few birds that had settled in the branches. “After that disaster in Nebraska?  No way.”

“Did you let her drive Stevie?” Laure asks, shock woven through her voice as her eyes flicker between Y/N and Harry. “Really?”

“No, I let her try to drive Stevie.  And then she stalled her, and lost all driving privileges forever.” Harry replies with a snort, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders as his keys jangle in his hands. “So I’ll be driving the forty-two hours back to L.A.”

Y/N crosses her arms with an irritated sigh. “Whatever.  Don’t complain to me when you get stiff from being in one position for eight hours a day.”

As Harry rounds the back of the car, he shoots Y/N a smug grin, walking up behind her to wrap his warm arms around her waist. “But you’ll give me massages, won’t you, baby?  I’d really appreciate them…”

“Okay, this is still weird for me.” Jo says slowly, shaking her head as her eyes flicker between their intertwined pose and Laure, who looks equally as bemused. “A week ago, we had to practically beg Harry to drive you, Y/N, and now you’re…?”

“It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” Harry asks, resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “No woman could last five days with me while resisting the Styles charm…”

Y/N shrugs his chin off her shoulder with a snort. “Right.” She scoffs as she unravels his hands from her waist. “The Styles charm.  We’ll pretend that’s a thing.”

Harry pouts as Y/N pulls away from him, his arms still outreached and trailing after her. “It is a thing!”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N walks over to Jo, wrapping her arms around the girl tightly as the crisp morning air sends a shiver down her spine. “Congratulations, Jo.  Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Although Jo hugs her back with a smile, there’s something lingering under the sweet expression. “Thank you.” She speaks in her normal tone, but waits until her lips are right by Y/N’s ear to lower her voice. “The moment you arrive back in L.A., I expect a three hour phone call explaining how all of this happened.  Is that understood?”

“You’re so demanding. I would have thought you’d be more mature now that you’re married.” Y/N laughs as she pulls out of the hug, turning to Laure and giving her a tight squeeze before walking to the car.  She leans against the cool metal of the passenger side as Harry rounds around to the driver’s side, having said his goodbyes right after she did.

“I’m serious!  The last time we talked about Harry, you threatened to cut off his—”

Laure takes Jo’s hand, squeezing it hard as she bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, darling, that’s enough.  Just be thankful they’re not arguing anymore, yeah?  Maybe we’ll finally be able to have a wine night that doesn’t end with someone flipping a charcuterie board.”

The memory of Laure and Jo’s four year anniversary party brings a sheepish smile to Y/N’s face, and she watches as the realization hits Jo, who gives a satisfied nod to Laure before the latter presses her lips to her cheek.

Harry, however, is less amused, and shoots a questioning glance at Y/N over the hood of the car. “Wait, when did you threaten to cut something of mine off?”

“Oh, it was just a joke, Harry.” Y/N waves off his concern as she opens the passenger door with a click. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, as long as you don’t piss me off too much.”

“Right.” Harry says slowly, climbing inside the car as Y/N does the same.  “I’ll do my best.”

Harry starts the car with an easy and practiced motion, shifting it into reverse and pulling away from the mountainside resort as the two of them give one last wave to Jo and Laure through the passenger window.  Once they’re back on the winding mountain road, Y/N grabs Harry’s phone from its usual spot in his cup holder, scrolling through his music library with interest.

“What do you feel like listening to?” She asks curiously, her eyes scanning over the now familiar titles indecisively. “Something fast?  Something mellow?”

Harry shifts the car into second gear before grabbing Y/N’s free hand, brushing his pink lips over the back of her knuckles in a gentle motion. “I don’t really care.” He says with a shrug, winding his fingers through her own before lowering their hands between their seats. “Anything you want.”

The comment of free reign causes Y/N’s eyes to widen in disbelief. “Really?” She asks incredulously, and when Harry gives a confirming nod, she quickly settles on “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” leaning back in her seat as the familiar guitar riff fills the car.

From the corner of her eye, she watches Harry’s nose wrinkle as his eyebrows crease beneath his sunglasses. “Actually, I changed my mind.” He says lowly, swiping his thumb over her knuckles in a motion of apology. “Not this song.”

Y/N lets out a groan as she presses her head back into the head rest. “For fuck’s sake, H—”

“I’m not feeling it! It just doesn’t suit this time of day, or this scenery—”

“We have forty-two hours left in this trip, and you’re already pissing me off.  Do you want something to get cut off?” Yanking her hand from his own, she grabs his phone again and opens it with a harsh sigh. “Okay, what do you want to listen to?”

“I told you.” Harry taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he risks a glance at her, gauging if the irritation in her voice matches the irritation on her face. “Whatever you want to listen to.”

Y/N allows herself a quiet snort, but makes no other comment on the contradictory statement. “Fine.” She says shortly, scrolling through his songs for another moment before clicking on “Strangers”. “How’s that?”

Harry raises his now empty hand defensively before finding her own again, squeezing it gently. “Good, love.  It’s good.”

“Good.” Y/N gives a short sigh of relief, settling back into her seat again as a new guitar riff begins to sound through the car speakers.

The first verse of the song has barely finished when Harry clears his throat thickly, the corner of his lip just barely twitching up. “You know, actually—”

“Stop the car.”

#feedback is appreciated!! #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles au #road trip au #enemies to lovers #slow burn #fine line #dreamwithharry #42 hours #writing

[anotheranimewriter]

How You Met The TR Boys

I once again do not own the picture, google truly is my bestfriend, but look at this handsome fella! He is the lovely boy we will be meeting today, hmmm who should we meet next?

Missed our last meeting? Catch Up Here w. Mitsuya Takashi

How You Met The TR Boys

Ken 'Draken' Ryuguji: Ahh brothers, gotta love them right? Even when they get into trouble and you have to bail them out, and somehow end up meeting a very cute blonde headed boy in the process, so it can't be all that bad? Right?

“We.. we paid… we gave- hiccup- money. Now show- sho-sh.” The first one’s head began to slack onto the other's shoulder who picked up from where he left off “Boobies. Boobies now!” He demanded slamming his hand on the counter, nearly breaking his hand from the brute force. “Yo. Assholes, get lost.” Draken said emerging from the back room, he hated the rowdy customers. Creaks and moaning was one thing, but the loud ones always pissed him off without a doubt. “Who.. who you tal-talkin to like that.. brat boy.. Barbie.” The hand man continued turning slightly to face Draken, nearly knocking the other idiot onto the floor. Draken shook his head and his tongue kissed the front of his teeth. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone today, he wanted nothing more than to just listen to his music and sleep, but the shit day he was having wasn’t over just yet. “Look. We could do this two ways, you take your friend and leave, or I kick your ass and throw you out.” Draken stated calmly as he let out a frustrated sigh, as he caught the guy flex under his gaze, watching hand man prepare a fist with the other hand and just as Draken was readying himself up to punch the guy straight in the jaw the elevator let out a soft ding breaking the silence between them.

“Come on idiots. We’re going home.” A girl said, stepping out of the elevator and in front of the two men, completely ignoring Draken’s existence. “Move imouto. I’m gonna kick-” Hand man started but was quickly cut off when the girl punched his stomach causing him to fall over with his companion still leaning on him. She stood over both the men as they were now laid on the ground in front of her “Idiots.” She mumbled to herself as she shook her head before removing her sweater from her frame, bending down to tie their legs together into a tight knot. Once she admired her handiwork she finally turned to acknowledge Draken who was intensely staring at her in confusion “I hope they didn’t cause you too much trouble blondie. They’re idiots but they’re not bad people.” She said flashing him a soft smile and Draken nodded as the door behind him opened ever so slightly “You should help her Draken.” One of the girls says from behind him as he nods at her words but doesn’t move a muscle, until he sees the girl grab an arm from each man and begins tugging them to the elevator.

“Whoa, you’re gonna hurt yourself. Let me help you.” He says rushing to her side to help her pull one of the man’s arms while she gives him a curt nod, pulling the others until they reach the elevator pulling the two men inside. “So, how did you get stuck with these two?” Draken asked, but the minute the words escaped his mouth he began to question himself, did he really care? Why was he trying to talk to her? She broke his internal fighting with a sweet laugh “If I could choose what brothers I’d like to have, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She said smiling at the two men who wore lopsided grins even while unconscious. Once the elevator dinged they pulled the men out and onto the sidewalk that for once wasn’t so busy, even for the city's night owls. “So how do you plan on getting them home?” Draken asked, again instantly questioning himself, the words were just escaping his mouth and he couldn’t understand why “Anyone ever tell you, you ask a lot of questions blondie?” She teased as a car pulled up in front of them, another man stepping out from the drivers side “Idiots.” He said pulling both the men in front of them with ease as he untied their legs before carelessly tossing them in the backseat.

“Boyfriend?” Draken questioned again, this time mentally slapping himself as the girl let out a cute laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it “Y’know blondie, you’re kinda funny. Anis.” She said as he nodded now making sense of the interactions “They called me when they were at the bar, I knew they’d be at the brothel, they are regulars, and I had to call the last one because, like you said, how do I get them home.” She explained as Draken nodded, not truly paying mind to her story but to her eyes and how they gleamed in the light. “Got a name blondie?” She asked, snapping him back to reality “Draken.” He responded nearly immediately as she smiled, placing two fingers near her temple before winking and moving them away from her face. “(Y/N/N). Who knows, maybe I’ll see you around Blondie.” She said before hurrying over to her brother's car, as Draken stood there watching them pull off before he returned upstairs. (Y/N/N), oh how he couldn’t wait to see her again.

#ken ryuguji #draken imagine #ken ryuguji x reader #ken ryuguji imagines #draken x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji revengers

[comorbidfascination]

Bone-a-Fied Lover

full fic list here

The Sawyers hardly ever saw their dad's side of the family, but the Hewitts were always nice. When Luda Mae comes down for a visit, she brings a long time family friend.

warnings: mentions of cannibalism

I'm essentially using the first movie as a baseline and adding in elements from the second, as those are the only tcm movies I've seen anything from. Also Nubbins isn't dead because I like the fanon dynamic between him and ChopTop.

You had heard the Sawyers mentioned once in a while, but you never really expected to meet them. You had known Luda Mae Hewitt for years, since she offered to babysit you as a child. Typically, her brother would drive her across the state to visit family for the holidays, but Charlie was getting older too, and Thomas didn't like to leave town much. You had often told Luda you would take her, but she was too stubborn to accept help; Charlie only got roped into it because he owed her favors.

"I keep tellin' you kid, it ain't because she don't wanna trouble ya, it's 'cause nobody wants to stop and letcha pick up roadkill." He always waited until no one else was in the room to give you a piece of his mind. "She only changed her mind this time 'cause you wore her down."

"Charlie, you were in the room when she asked me. Luda wants to bring the twins their belated birthday gifts and I need to get out of the house." You didn't even look at him as you stuffed more clothes into an old suitcase.

You could feel his eyes on you for a long moment. "Lost your job and now you're out toting my sister around Texas 'cause you've got nothin' better to do."

Rolling your eyes, you kept moving around the room you'd been staying in at the Hewitt house, choosing which of your art supplies to bring along. The trip was meant to take a few days, and Luda had told you about the similar works made of bones by the Sawyers. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'll steal her away and none of you will ever see her again." You sneered at each other across the room.

A knock on the wall sounded downstairs and Luda's voice followed it, "You ready dear?"

"Down in a minute!" You clapped the case shut and pushed past Charlie to join her at the front door. Thomas was with her, stoic as ever, sitting at the kitchen table. He silently insisted on carrying all of the luggage to your car, and you relented since you knew he'd never listen to protest. You settled into the driver's seat and waited for Luda to take the passenger seat before waving everyone off. As soon as the tires hit a straight road, she was telling you stories about the trouble she and her cousin Drayton used to get up to as kids.

When the old farmhouse trundled into view, you whistled at the size of it. "Now that's a home worth living in!"

"See, I toldja not to worry 'bout findin' space for us, dear. They've got at least two guest rooms to my knowin'."

You parked the car and extended your arm so you could lead her inside. At the sound of guests, an older man opened the door with a too-wide smile. "There ya are Luda, let's get everybody settled." He didn't sound all that excited, but he seemed like more of a pragmatic type anyway. The muffled crash and yelling inside the house was a welcome distraction as the man, who must have been Drayton, ignored you.

Three men closer to your age came tramping down the stairs, two of them practically chasing the other, though he was much more physically imposing. Your assumptions were soon corroborated when the eldest brother shouted for Nubbins and ChopTop to quit running Bubba around the house so he could bring the suitcases in. The twins' hooting and hollering dimmed to an onslaught of words directed at their cousin. You sighed and walked back outside to grab your bag, hoping you'd be allowed to carry it yourself this time.

A garbled sentence drew your attention back to Bubba, who followed you to the car dutifully. You tried for a sympathetic smile. "Hey, it's nice to meet you. I can get mine and that one's hers." He nodded and looked at you expectantly through the eye-holes of a homemade mask, prompting you to apologize and give him your name. You had a feeling Bubba might be the only brother that wouldn't give you a headache by the end of this trip.

Everyone else had dispersed from the front hall by the time the two of you were back inside, so he showed you to the room you would be staying in. It was upstairs, right across from his, where as Luda's was downstairs so she wouldn't have to worry about her knees. The placement of occupied bedrooms seemed a little strange to you, with each brother as far from each other as possible except for the twins, who shared a bathroom. More than anything, you were glad you were put with the most quiet member of the family, since you didn't like to be distracted from your work. Bubba had turned to leave, but lingered in the doorway when he saw what you were pulling out of your bag. Animal bones of all shapes and sizes fell from the canvas in neat packages, and you unwrapped one to show him. "Raccoon femur. Pretty cool, right?"

Bubba squealed and flapped his hands, hurrying down the stairs and looking back a few times to make sure you were still following. He brought you to a room covered in bones, many of which looked to be human. A chicken suspended in a cage squawked a greeting as you gasped and smiled brightly up at him. "Oh my god, this is amazing!" He babbled more quietly, looking a little embarrassed. "Which one of you made all these decorations? I especially like this one." You pointed at a wind-chime made from what you thought might be finger bones. He couldn't look at you, but patted his chest. "No need to be shy, Bubba," You laughed, "You did a great job."

A voice called for everyone to wash up for dinner, and you let him lead you to the dining room where the twins were already seated and arguing. He pulled out a chair for you next to his, which made your face heat up just a bit. ChopTop immediately started teasing Bubba, but before you could get a word in edgewise, Luda walked in with a plate piled high with steak. You set it on the table for her and got up to help, but Bubba put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let him take your place to get away from his brothers a little longer.

As you expected, Chop went in on you instead. "You been hidin' away with Junior this whole time? Makes ya wonder what y'all were doin' all by yer lonesomes."

Unfortunately for you both, Charlie had prepared you for random bouts of derision. "Aw, are you jealous?"

Both twins went red in the face, though Nubbins was laughing himself into resembling a cherry tomato. Drayton shouted for him to shut his mouth, but that just made him wheeze harder. ChopTop smacked his brother on the arm, and you just settled back into your chair to wait for dinner to be served.

You had been warned that mealtimes would be an "eventful" affair, but the boys seemed to be on their best behavior whenever Luda was around. She had always been the type to command a room, despite her sweet disposition; when she talked, you listened. "When's the last time y'all had visitors, Dray?"

He cleared his throat, eyeing you as your knife cut cleanly through the meat. "Maybe a week ago. Been savin' the best cuts for your visit, though."

"Well aren't you thoughtful. It's been a while since we had somebody come through, but we've been gettin' by on what we've got. Poor Tommy's been antsy, but I figure he'll have caught one or two by the time we get back."

You nodded along, fully aware of both family's eating habits. As long as you weren't on the menu, it was fairly easy to ignore. "Keep gettin' real skinny ones, though. They make better jerky than anything else."

The room let out a breath of relief and you glanced at Bubba, who was bouncing a little in his seat. Smiling to yourself, you half-listened to Luda go on talking just to fill the silence. You chuckled under your breath when it began to sound like she was advertising how nice and helpful you were around the house. "Such a sweetheart, but there ain't a mess in the world this one can ignore. Always pickin' up after everybody even when I say it ain't necessary." She gave you a wry smile, which you returned with a good-natured shrug.

"I think we could use somebody like that around here, if I'm honest." Drayton didn't realize the mistake he'd just made, and neither did you, but Luda jumped on it.

"Well all the jobs have been goin' and I bet y'all could let her stay in exchange for pickin' up or somethin' like that." Her voice was carefully nonchalant, but you recognized that tone. She knew you had a problem and figured she'd solve it, regardless of what anybody else thought of the idea.

You kept your eyes on your plate, eating without pause so you wouldn't have to share an opinion on the matter. Drayton made a thoughtful noise, but the twins started talking over one another, saying they were tired of seeing the same faces everyday and wanted you to stay longer. You and Bubba were the only ones outside of the conversation, but you could see the way his leg had tensed up under the table next to you. It was awful to think you'd made him uncomfortable, even by proxy, so you glanced up at him to gauge his expression. It was hard to tell with the mask on, but he seemed nervous, almost. You gently tapped your elbow against his to get him to look at you, tilting your head to ask if he was okay. Bubba whimpered quietly, rubbing your arms together with a small, but reassuring smile.

"I think we could make that work; always need more hands on deck, after all. We can come up with somethin' a little more structured tomorrow, whaddya say?" Drayton looked at Luda, then you, as you both nodded. She seemed more excited, but then again she wasn't the one getting handed a full time job that might end up unpaid.

As you settled into bed that night with a full stomach, you wondered again why Bubba had looked so nervous at the thought of you staying longer than a few days. His room was only a couple steps away, but you didn't want to bother him. Your bag sat half-opened on the floor, and you figured you might as well unpack to get your mind off of those furrowed brows and pouty lips. Clothes were folded neatly in the drawers, toiletries arranged on the attached bathroom's counter, and the packages of bones sat unwrapped at the foot of the bed. You lingered on these, organizing and regrouping them a few times until you were satisfied enough to line them up on top of the dresser. You knew you were stalling, just unsure of what for. You jumped at a loud snore from across the hall, then shook your head and laughed at yourself for being startled. It wasn't long before the ebb and flow of Bubba's snoring faded into white noise and you were drifting off to sleep.

With the morning came another round of thundering footsteps and shouted conversations. The smell of sausage wafted up the stairs as you got ready to face the day. By the time you joined the breakfast table, only Chop was absent. Bubba giggled happily when you chose the same seat to his left, and you smiled back, glad his mood was lighter after some rest. It only took a moment to realize that Drayton and Nubbins were arguing over who had to go wake up ChopTop, so you sighed and stood up. "Where's his room?" Bubba squeaked and pointed down the hall, so you left the other men hollering and went to go get him.

Knocking on the door, you called for him to wake up, answered only with a groan. "Chop, they won't quit yelling until you show up, just cover your bits and come on." You got a cackle in response and counted it as a win.

He walked in wrapped in a blanket and probably nothing else almost as soon as you sat down again. Ignoring them all, you tucked into your sausage and eggs. Drayton tried arguing with him instead, but you were already sick of it. "He's here, ain't he? Eat your breakfast."

The twins laughed, even Bubba giggled some more, but Luda just sipped her tea smugly. You were beginning to think she had asked you to come along just to herd cats. She was lucky you had a big appetite and got along with Bubba well enough to stay. There really wasn't much to do back home without a job to keep you busy, and she was right about your cleaning habit, so it wasn't hard to convince you. As long as you could keep your bone collection and go through theirs, you'd be happy as a clam. It was a little bittersweet to think that Luda would be leaving the next day, though. You'd miss her.

Later, Bubba knocked on your door. He stood sheepishly in the hall until you invited him in, wearing a mask you hadn't seen before. "Is that a new one? Looks real pretty." He squealed, covering his mouth quickly to muffle it, but you put your hand on his arm and tried to meet his eyes. "I mean it, Bubs. You look pretty regardless, but I like the colors you used for the makeup."

He buried his face in his hands, and you let him get away with it that time. Chuckling to yourself, you sat on the bed next to him with some of your art supplies to continue a necklace made from possum teeth. He peered over at the work in progress, babbling quietly by your ear. You began to explain the process out loud to him, describing the way you cleaned and prepared the materials as you strung each tooth between beads. He was a good listener, pointing to pieces he wanted you to talk about more. After you tied the last knot, Bubba tugged your sleeve so you'd stand up with him. He took you back down to the room filled with bones, gesturing to some of the furniture he had made.

"I don't really make stuff that big, but I do more than jewelry, if that's what you're asking." He pointed to himself, the bench behind him, then to you. You nodded, smiling at how eager he was to share a hobby with you. "Yeah, I'd love to work on something like this with you. Maybe that can be part of my job here."

He stammered a little, hurrying to bring you into the living room where Drayton and Luda were watching a talk show. They both looked up when you walked in, and Luda waved you over to sit with her on the sofa. When Bubba didn't move, you whispered, "C'mon, we can all fit."

Drayton coughed and took a swig of water from a chipped mason jar. "Think you'd be up to cleanin' this place? Can't exactly spare to pay ya, but you'll get the same room you're in and three meals a day."

"Sure. If I could, I'd like to organize that bone room, but I know the rest of the house needs to take priority. I can cook pretty well too, if you aren't feelin' like it." You pulled your legs up onto the sofa, accidentally putting one halfway into Bubba's lap. You adjusted and turned back to the eldest. "I make things with found objects like what you've got in there, used to sell some of my stuff at the farmer's market. Bubba already offered to show me how to make furniture."

Drayton eyed his baby brother for a little too long before responding. "Sounds like a deal to me."

When you glanced at Bubba, he was blushing so hard he was crimson down to the collar. Concerned, you put a hand on his knee, but he avoided your gaze. You noticed that he didn't do anything to shake off your hand, so you kept it there as the talk show host introduced a new guest.

Wandering back into the kitchen, you passed a window showing the twins walking back to the house through an overgrown garden. You had always wanted your own place to grow vegetables and herbs. Struck with an idea, you met them at the back door. "Hey you two, I've got a challenge for you." Just as you expected, they both perked up at the opportunity to best the other at something. You went out to one of the raised beds and tugged up a weed. "I'm about to make a batch of cookies, and the one with the most weeds pulled up by the time I'm done gets first dibs. They've gotta be completely uprooted though, not just snapped off."

Nubbins didn't even agree, just ran off to start with Chop at his heels, shouting at him for trying to get a head start. You laughed and went back inside to find what ingredients were available. Really, you hadn't even meant to bake anything until you realized they'd need an incentive. It was a bit of a mess, but you figured you might as well get started on your new job. It wasn't easy to find a single thing in that kitchen, but after you piled everything in your way onto the table in the middle of the room, you could at least get to what you wanted. You stared at the mountain of expired ingredients and sighed, wishing you could make industrial trash bags and a label maker appear out of thin air. With the counters clear, you started on the cookies so you could clean while they baked. People tried to poke their heads in a couple times while you worked, but you shooed them away as best you could. Thankfully, only Drayton commented on the state of the room, while Luda and Bubba just wanted to help. You sent them for trash bags and continued going through the endless supply of cans and yellowed tupperware.

"I know you want to help, honey. I'll be fine."

Bubba did not like the answer to his questioning whine. He sat on the floor with you and picked up one of the cans in the pile closest to him. Unsure what you were looking for on each one, he made the same noise.

You showed him the expiration date. "If it's more than a few days past the date, it needs to be thrown out. Can't be eating stuff that's gone bad or it'll make us sick."

He shrugged and started transferring the pile into bags. You were almost certain that Drayton hardly ever used but a few things in the cupboards, so you gave him a pass for not knowing. It was like no one had gone through the pantry since moving in, and you sighed as you began to pull things off the shelves at random to check the dates. By the time the cookies were done, the room looked like more of a mess than it had to begin with, but you were keenly aware of how much work had gone into trashing the place. You set them on the counter to cool and mentioned the weeding competition to Bubba as he walked in from throwing some bags into the big trash can outside. He giggled and closed the oven door for you.

From the back door, you called out to the twins, "All done, lemme see!"

ChopTop was closer, so you joined him first. "Been countin' 'em as I go. Got forty-two!"

His brother shot up from the dirt with a whoop. "Fifty!"

"Looks like you get first pick from the batch, Nubbins." Chop trailed behind you both with a grumble. "There's plenty to go around, don't worry." Bubba handed you a spatula and a plate as you re-entered, making you smile. "Thanks, honey. Now, there's enough for everybody in the house to have two, but Nubbins get to choose his first and gets to eat however many are left if somebody doesn't want theirs."

Drayton and Luda had apparently been called in, as they were lingering by the table as you spoke. Bubba handed you more plates as you let everyone choose, saving yourself for last. You had earned both cookies and only Luda left one for the winner. Nubbins snatched it up from the tray without waiting for you to give it to him, chomping down messily while sending a shit-eating grin to his twin.

When everybody had their fill, only Bubba stayed in the kitchen with you. He babbled cheerily as you both settled back onto the floor. The cans had been finished, but there was still boxes and cleaning supplies from under the sink you didn't fully trust. You brushed some hair out of his eyes, making him turn to face you. "I'm glad you wanted to stay with me, Bubs. It's nice just spending time with you." He forced himself to keep looking at you, though you could tell he wanted to hide from the attention again. "I'm kinda excited to keep living here with you. The other boys are fine, but I guess you just make me happy to be here."

Bubba surged forward, pulling you onto his lap so he could breathlessly whimper his thanks into your neck. Surprised at his boldness, but not bothered in the slightest, you wrapped your arms around him with a gentle squeeze. Footsteps sounded in the hall, and he squeaked, picking you up and leaving the kitchen quickly. You had no idea where he was going, but it was easy to tell he didn't want anyone to ruin the moment by coming in and teasing you both. Giggling into his shoulder, you clung to his broad frame as he tromped up the stairs, making you bounce a little in his arms. Being so close to him was exhilarating, especially with such an unthinking display of strength; he had no idea what he was doing to you. You were the one turning red now, burying your face in his plush chest just to feel more of him. Once in his room, Bubba tried to set you down, but you didn't let go. Instead, you tugged at his shirt so he'd follow you further up the bed. He kicked his shoes off and did as you wanted, flopping with his head on your stomach while you sat up against the headboard. You carded your fingers through the hair of the mask, wishing you could feel what was underneath.

"Sweetie?" You didn't want to rush the question. Bubba lifted his head expectantly, toothy smile making your heart melt even more. "I know you might not be ready yet, but whenever you are, I'd love to see what you look like under the mask."

He made a short, high pitched noise that made you regret asking at all. But then he glanced at the closed door and took your hand to cover your eyes with it. A quiet rustling was all you could hear, but then his head was back on your stomach and your other hand was guided to his hair like he had known exactly what you wanted.

"I won't look, Bubs, I promise. I'm just going to take my hand off, okay?" He burbled complacently so you put both hands on him, petting his hair and rubbing at his shoulder. "Every bit of you is so soft." He hummed and shifted your shirt up so he could rest his bare face on your stomach. You gasped at the sudden burst of cold followed by the now familiar weight, but didn't push him away.

"God, I wanna kiss you." You tensed immediately, realizing you had said that last part out loud. Bubba, however, made a sweet little happy noise and pressed a chaste kiss to your tummy. You didn't say anything else, afraid of slipping up again somehow. He squeezed your love handles, giving each a kiss, then pulled your shirt back down. The bed creaked as he sat up in front of you, and it was only a minute before he was covering your eyes with his hand so he could pull away to let you know when to open them. Blinking at the light, you smiled at the soft look on his face, which was once again covered by the mask. He took your hand and kissed the palm, closing your fingers around it. "I'll keep this one for you." Your voice was a whisper, not wanting the moment to end. You took his hand and repeated the gesture, hoping this wouldn't be the last time you'd see this side of him.

#bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #d3's post #slashers #slashers x reader #🍐

[just-my-fandom]

I like the hc on being for the Ninjas dating another ninjas sister who’s their soulmate, Could do one where reader (Lloyd’s older sister) Has been dating cole for a bit in secret and Lloyd and Garmadon find out and become overprotective ( I am so sorry I just love the overprotective dad and/or brother trope)

Boo (Cole Brookstone x Garmadon! Reader)

A/N; I stuck with the powers the reader has in this headcannon. I’m currently only writing for Ninjago, the Umbrella Academy, and Stranger Things, so send them in.

Summary; When the Ninja join the Tournament of Elements, Cole and the reader are forced to fight one another. Cole risking himself already raises suspicion to Lloyd and Garmadon, but it isn’t until they confront the reader before they find out the truth.

Also side note, Rest In Peace to Kirby Morrow who voiced Cole.

“THIS whole thing is so stupid,” You drop your tray onto the table seated with four men, settling next to your father and sensei, Garmadon,

“Hey, their foods great though,” Kai speaks up from across you, seated between Cole and your younger brother, Lloyd,

“Take it,” You mutter, pushing your tray to the hot head before resting your elbows on the table,

“You can’t be skipping meals, Y/N,” Garmadon states, dragging the tray back in front of you so you glanced and glared at him, “You never know when you’ll have to fight,”

“Hopefully never,” You spit, Garmadon raising his eyebrows at your tone, “Come on, dad. We’ve already had four rounds and none of us had to fight. Face it, Chen just wants us here for his enjoyment. He doesn’t want to lose any of us,”

“Me and you are seeing a completely different story here, Y/N/N,” Jay peers over the booth across from you, eyes squinting, “I want to fight. You just know you’ll loose,”

“Want happened to encouragement on the team?” Lloyd asks, looking up at Jay,

“Ehem!” A sharp cough through the speakers above cause everyone’s gaze to shift, “Ehem! Ladies and gents, it’s time for round five!”

“Oh come on,” Kai pouts at his food, poking at the chicken and dumplings,

“Would the following Masters please make their way to their assigned arena; Speed, Gravity, Nature, Mind-,”

“I told you,” You glare up at Jay.

“And our last two, Earth and Natural Occurances!”

Your eyes snap over to Cole, who nearly dropped his fork at the mention of his element, “Remember!” Chen laughs, “Only one can remain,”

“IM not fighting you, Cole!” You turn to stare at the black ninja, arms out in alarm before they raise to your hair, “Oh, God, what if he knows? What if he set this up on purpose and tells my dad-,”

“No one knows, Y/N,” Cole instantly steps up to put his hands at your wrists, pulling them down from your hair, “We just gotta do what Chen tells us to do, and we’ll both make it out,”

“Only one remains,” You remind, “One of us has to take the fall,”

“Easy,” Cole shrugs, your brows pinching, “You grab the blade as soon as it starts. You continue on,”

“No,” You shake your head, “That’s not how this works. Give yourself up instantly and they’ll know,”

“Well I’m not letting you take that fall, princess,” Cole pulls back, when Garmadon knocks and hastily steps in,

“You two ready?”

“IM not fighting you,” You repeat your earlier statement, hands clenched as you and Cole stood feet apart in the arena, every elemental master watching above.

“We can draw it out until they call it a tie,” Cole reassures, not loud enough to where Chen could hear, “Quick- attack me, but not too hard,”

You clench your jaw, throwing a hand out so a small tornado formed and threw itself at your secret boyfriend, knocking him off his feet and into the stone wall behind him,

You flinch behind your mask, stomping a foot down so the earth cracked, where Cole jumps to the side, tossing a wall of rocks in your direction.

“I’m bored!” You hear Chen whine, “Release the Condrai Crushers!”

Your eyes snap to the side, yelping when three vehicles roll out of the tunnels in the wall, one zooming straight for you.

You feel Coles arm loop around your waist, tugging you to the side before his back presses to yours, watching the vehicles surround you. “I got your back,”

“I got yours,” You murmur, hand grazing his before you lunge forward, throwing your arms up so the earth raised into a ramp, the first vehicle leaping off said ramp and ramming into the stone wall,

Cole dodges the next vechile, lunging towards the third to drop a pile of rocks over top of the driver, causing him, too, to crash into the wall.

You huff out a relieved breath and high five Cole, grasping his hand with a smile beneath your mask,

“Enough!” Chen shrieks, so you released Coles hand and turned to Chen, “I know what you’re trying to do. And if neither of you will win, you will both loose!”

You watch in alarm as the ground began to drop in small holes, your feet moving backwards and into Cole, his hands at your hips in alert,

You jump to the side when the floor gives out beneath you, stumbling as you are left surrounded by darkness, eyes looking up at the blade at the top of the post,

“Chen’s right!” Cole calls, as you look to him, “One of us has to be win!”

“And it’ll be you!” You shout back, finger pointed, “Get the blade, Cole. I’ll be fine!”

Cole rushes up the post as you look down at your wobbling knees, Cole jumping down onto a stone still intact, tossing the blade so it hit flat against your chest, your hands stumbling to catch it.

“Winner!” Chen calls, as your eyes snap up to Cole, shocked, “Loser!”

“Cole-!” You lunge forward onto the next stone, barely catching yourself as the floor gave out beneath Cole, dropping him into the darkness below,

You clench your jaw and glare up at Chen, chucking the blade across the arena so it slid off the stones, into the pit beneath.

“YOU seemed really distressed during that battle,”

Your eyes flick up from your food, your fork jabbed into the noodles you received. Garmadon raises an eyebrow, and you look back down at your plate.

“What, am I not allowed to care about my friend?”

“Not with how touchy Cole had been,” Lloyd sits down, eyes squinted, “What’s going on between you two? We both know if you had to go up against Kai or Jay you would have been fine with them giving themselves up,”

“Nothing is going on between us, Lloyd,” You snap, gaze hard, “Coles my best friend. We don’t know what happens when we loose, I didn’t want him to get hurt,”

“Y/N, I read you like an open book,” Your fathers tone softens, leaning forward, “Why didn’t you just tell me sooner?”

“Tell you what?” Kai cuts, and you drop your fork, pushing your plate forward,

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” You ask, harshly, Garmadon frowning, “Nothing is going on between Cole and I. And if there was I wouldn’t tell you because I know how you both get,” You gaze shifts to Lloyd, before you slide out of the booth, hands clenched to stop the earthquake at the tips of your fingers.

“I got her,” Garmadon states, Lloyd and Kai sharing glances as Garmadon followed his oldest daughter.

YOUR hand wipes away the blue in your eye, hearing your fathers footsteps behind you, “Why are you following me?”

“How long?” Garmadon avoids, your arms crossing as you stopped, turning to face him with your head ducked,

“Almost a year,” You murmur, lifting your gaze to his,

“And why I am just now finding out?”

“Because you know how you are,” You squint, “Every boyfriend I had you scared away, and now that boys know who my brother is? They won’t even talk to me,” You hiss, shoulders dropping, “Cole is the only one who I seem to be able to control my powers around. I’m scared that without him here I’m going to accidentally kill someone with my powers,”

“You’ve trained,” Garmadon responds, your eyes rolling.

“Yeah, but I have your anger from when you were Lord Garmadon,”

You miss Garmadons flinch, but hear his sigh, “I just wished you told me,”

“I told mom,” You shrug, “She seems to enjoy the fact that I keep my relationship to myself. Guess that’s out of the box,”

“I won’t say anything to your teammates if that’s what you’re worried about,” Garmadon reassures, watching your fists release, as your brows,

“Thanks, dad,” You murmur, Garmadon smiling as he nods his head towards the dining area, hands behind his back.

“COLE!”

The Master of Earth turns away from helping Garmadon to his feet, stumbling back upon another figure ramming into him, mind quick to realize it was you,

“Whoa,” Cole laughs, weakly, eyes glancing at Garmadon before his arms wrap at your waist, “Dont worry. I’m fine,”

“You’re such an ass,” You lean back to hit his chest, hands then sliding to hold his face, “Dont do that again,”

“No promises,” Cole murmurs, looking over at Lloyd’s alarmed- “I knew it!”

Your hands drop as Lloyd points an accusing finger, Garmadon chuckling, “I knew something was going on between you two!”

“You’re just now realizing that?” Kai asks, so you spun to look at him, alarmed, “Oh don’t give me that look. You guys suck at keeping quiet at night,”

“Do what?” Garmadons smile drops into a scowl, your eyes widening as you take Coles hand,

“This is our cue to leave. We’ll meet you at the docks, guys,”

Lloyd crosses his arms, eyes squinting to his father, “Did you know about this?”

“Why do you sound like the father here?” Garmadon questions, side glancing his son, “Of course I knew. But go easy of them,”

“What?” Lloyd slacks, “Why?”

“An instinct,” Garmadons hands link behind his back, stepping forward to follow after you, “I have a feeling they’re good for each other,”

#cole brookstone imagine #cole brookstone x reader #cole brookstone #Cole brookstone one shot #lloyd garmadon imagine #ninjago lloyd x reader #lloyd garmadon x reader #lloyd garmadon #lord garmadon #Garmadon #ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago imagine #ninjago one shot

[kerie-prince]

the intern

Peter Parker x Reader (college au)

requested: (anon) plz plz plz give me some college aged, super powerful ( think stark ceo powerful ) peter parker shit. idc what the rest of the story is about, i just need a brooding, smoldering, suit wearing, extremely expensive, college aged spiderman. plz and thank you!!!!

warnings: language

summary: When you start a new internship at Stark Industries, you're not only surprised to find Peter working as your boss, but that he's not the shy neighborhood boy you grew up with

a/n: this doesn't follow canon so for this imagine, hammer industries is just a rival company and the snap never happened lol also i don't know anything more than operating a phone so don't expect me to write sciencey, techy stuff lmao

(gif source)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were running across the road to jump into a cab that was available. Your phone hadn't been charging all night as you thought it had which caused you to wake up forty-five minutes before the start of the interview. You need this internship before you graduate from Empire State and get your degree in robotics.

On the way there, you nearly got car sick as the driver took sharp turns and nearly ran past intersections seconds before they became red. Once in front of Hammer Industries, your heels clicked loudly as you ran inside the tall building. You checked in with the front desk and took the elevator up to the 10th floor.

Just as you arrived, Justin Hammer was calling your name. “I'm right here!” you nearly tripped on your heels and your breaths were short.

“I've called your name three times, do you understand what that makes you look like, correct?” Justin stood unphased as you stood up straight and tried to steady your breath. “All these people are on time. Some of these folks have been here for hours, even.”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry–”

“Shame, I really liked your resume and your report on the expansion of nano-technology. Try again next year, maybe.” Justin started to call out the next participant and when she got up you stepped in front of her, “Please Mr. Hammer, I need this internship or I can't graduate.”

The people in the waiting room had their eyes on the two of you, tension so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. “Then maybe you should have come on time,” he pushed you aside to let the next person in to interview. You quickly ran back out and spoke to no one all the way home. Your eyes and cheeks were aching as you held in the tears during your Uber ride. The driver wanted to ask if you were okay, but if you were to break down in his car he’d probably be stuck having to listen to what happened and if he was honest with himself, he didn't actually care.

Once you got to your apartment, you made a straight line to the kitchen. “Hey, how’d the interview go?” MJ, your roommate, asked while still looking at her computer. You reached into the freezer for your emergency ice cream pint, snatched a spoon and walked into your room without saying anything. “That bad, I guess,” MJ said to herself.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

You sat with MJ and Ned in the cafeteria, but had not touched any of the food on your plate. Your head was laid on the steel table and you just continuously groaned. “I’m a failure,” you whined.

“No, what you are is fucking dumb,” MJ commented as she ate.

“Thanks, Michelle, that makes me feel so much better,” you looked up to glare at her before laying her head back down. Ned felt bad that his friend was in despair, “How come you didn't ask Peter for help?”

“Huh?” you lifted your head back up some of your hair falling onto your face.

“Yeah, Peter already works at Stark Industries, why didn't you just ask him to get you in? You could even skip the internship altogether and be in full time,” Ned suggested. You gave it some thought, but something about it didn't sound right.

“No, I don't want to bother Peter. I don’t want him to think that I’m only calling him for a job,” you sighed. Ned texted Peter anyways. Unexpectedly, Peter texted him back immediately.

“He says it’s fine,” Ned showed you his phone to read the text. ‘Yeah man, tell her to come in tomorrow and Ms. Potts will interview her’

You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and pulled out your phone.

‘Thank you so much for helping me out’

(…)

‘No problem, anything for a friend’

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The Stark Industries building was huge. It almost looked taller than the Empire State Building, and maybe it actually was. Your legs were shaking as you stared up at it. “Here goes nothing,” you assured yourself.

The lobby was bustling with people; workers walking around, a group of kids that seemed to be here on a field trip, and some teens taking pictures in front of one of Mr. Stark's Iron Man suits.

The trip up to the 17th floor was crowded with people as more and more entered in every passing floor. You had to squeeze yourself out and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot in the process.

Looking around, your jaw dropped. It was an open laboratory with groups of people putting together small robots, flying drones, and people laughing and talking. It was such a fun and cool looking environment, you wondered why you didn't just apply here in the first place.

Pepper Potts spotted you walking around and approached you with a tap on your shoulder. “Hi, I’m Pepper. You must be Y/N,” she reached her hand out to shake yours which you accepted. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Peter’s told me a lot about you. Come, follow me,” Pepper’s office had glass walls and a view of New York from behind her desk. You weren't particularly fond of heights, but even you would love to have an office view like that. Pepper gestured to the chair in front of her as she smoothed her dress to sit in hers. “So, I see here that you had an interview at Hammer’s. Can I ask why you chose them?” You didn't even know how they got that information. You hadn't seen or spoken to Peter in quite a while, so how Pepper knew that was beyond you. You sat there with your lips moving to say something but nothing was coming out.

Pepper seemed to have caught on what you were thinking and elaborated, “Before I do any interviewing, I do full background checks on everyone.” She had a gentle smile which made you feel better. You thought she would scold you or something considering the question did more than catch you off guard.

“My mother used to work there for a long time and I figured that I would follow,” you explained. Pepper nodded her head and wrote some notes down. She looked onto her computer and looked at everything there was about you. “Well, I see here that you have exceptional grades. 4.7 GPA since you started school and your paper on nano-technology has gotten much praise. I think even Tony read it.” No way. The Tony Stark read my paper? “So tell me, do you see yourself working here at Stark Industries?”

You looked outside and watched everyone in the open lab again. “Yes.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. We’d love to have you here,” she reached over to shake your hand. You looked at her surprised and hesitantly shook hers. “Welcome to the team, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much!” You cupped her hand with both of yours and shook it a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to mind. You were ecstatic to start your path to your career, and at a dream place at that.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

Your alarm rang at the time you set it to, but there was no need for it. You couldn't sleep all night. Today is your first day of your internship and you were feeling so many things at once. Excited, nervous, happy, scared…

You tried to restrain yourself to a light breakfast, but MJ’s pancakes were to die for that you ate two whole stacks. You looked through your closet just about fifteen times; you had already picked an outfit the following night with the help of MJ, but when you put it back on, you hated it. It sucked for your roommate seeing as she had to sit through you changing from eight other outfits.

You tried to picture the lab again to see how other people dressed for a better idea to base it on your outfit choice. From what you remember, it was pretty casual, so that’s what you stuck to.

You were given your pass the day you were hired, so you had no issue walking inside. The elevator was just as packed as it was last time, but you were more composed so there were no toes being stepped on this time. You weren't exactly sure as to where you had to go, so you looked around to see if there were other interns to ask where to start.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice surprised you from behind. Your shoulders jumped a bit, but relaxed at the view of his face. His face… you actually hadn't seen him for quite a while. Months, maybe. His jawline was more defined, and his once floppy hair was styled neatly. You tried to not look him up and down, but the temptation was definitely there. And the other thing, his voice was deeper than you last remembered. Is this really Peter Parker? “Hey, Peter.”

He gave you a hug that nearly made you lose breath. He was stronger than you remembered. A memory flashed back to when you were in junior high; you, Ned and Peter were hanging around the local park and you beat Peter on rounds on the monkey bars. He gave up after a couple bars, but you went back and forth a couple times. ‘Show off.’ But now, he had muscles that the shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps.

The hug was quick, and you had to pretend that he didn't just squeeze some life out of you. “Do you work on this floor?”

“Yeah, you’re actually assigned to work with my team. Come, I’ll show you around.” He started walking and you noticed how his posture changed. Damn, I know it hasn't been this long since I've seen him. Why does he look so different? He was wearing trousers. Trousers? Peter hates trousers. But his ass is looking great–

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s going to be working with us as an intern. And I'll say this beforehand, no she's not going to be taking coffee or lunch orders,” Peter introduced you. There were various aged people in this group. Some were your age, and one person looked to have been in his thirties. Peter is in charge of this group? They all said ‘hi’ to you and went around introducing themselves.

Once that was finished, Peter pulled a chair for you on the table. “You’ll take notes for me while I give this presentation,” he whispered to you before walking in front of the table and started writing on the clear glass board.

He was talking quickly and didn't stumble over his words like he used to. Everyone was listening to him attentively and you jotted notes down as quickly as you could. Every now and then, you would steal glimpses of him and feel a sort of… well you felt something. Amazement? Inspiration? Adoration?

No doubt was Peter one of the smartest people you've ever met and here he was leading his own team and making potential products for Stark Industries at such a young age. Seeing him at work was so… it was indescribable to you but all you could think of was how different he is now. In a good way, of course.

Peter Parker has been your friend for years and to see him change from a bumbling, shy, adorable nerd into a confident, intelligent working man attracted you.

When you got home, you thought a lot about your first day. Being an intern at Stark Industries was really fun, so far. You weren't expected to do silly things like get coffee or lunch for everyone or pick up someone’s dry cleaning. You actually learned something and even had your opinions heard on some of the things that Peter suggested for his team’s upcoming product presentation.

If this is what it's like to be an intern, you couldn't imagine what it would be like working full time.

“How'd it go?” MJ stuck her head in your room. “It was fun. I'm working with Peter,” you explained your day to her.

“Cool,” was the last thing she said before she went to her own room for the night.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

In the past few months, your internship at Stark’s has been going swimmingly. Everyone's been so nice, and the work is so fascinating. You've gotten closer with Peter and along the way, he felt like he was more than a friend and boss to you.

Currently, everyone was getting ready for their final presentations for the upcoming annual Stark Industries Convention. It was going to be Peter’s first year presenting his own project with his team and you were so excited to be a part of it.

The time you’ve spent with Peter was really fun. He was a good mentor and a great friend. The only thing was that you couldn't help but look at him a little too long, and you’ve found yourself thinking about him during your classes or doing your homework. The shy boy from Midtown High was no more, replaced– no, grown into the Peter you know now. But you pushed all feelings aside to focus on your next thesis paper and mock-up of the handout brochures of Peter’s project.

Sometimes, you didn't even feel like an intern as Peter would ask for any ideas you had to make the project better and even let you help with assembly. He stayed true to his words and you’ve never once had to run for coffee or things like that. There’d be times when you would study some of the little parts under a magnifying glass and he’d come up slightly behind you and explain about some of the bits on the working table.

And every time he did that, your breath would be stuck in your throat and you’d have to remind yourself that this was just Peter helping you out and you’re just learning. But it was normal to want more every now and then… right?

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The convention was just a few days away and you had trouble finding something to wear. These events were usually black tie events, but did that mean the presenting teams as well? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?

One of the guys on your team, Richie, sat with you during lunch and talked about how he was probably going to wear the same suit as always. Not because he couldn't afford a new suit, but he was just a simple person and he only wears it once a year for the conventions and that’s all, so it’s still in mint condition.

The girls on your team and some from others were going dress shopping the day before and invited you to join. You were excited mainly because now you don't have to bother MJ for it.

Speaking of MJ, you were going to ask her to come with you. Pepper sent out the electronic invitations to everyone in the company and authorized plus ones to even interns. She’s never been to one – for reasons you were still confused about – but you wanted your best friend to be there for you. And if not MJ, then you bet Ned would still come with you. Wait, what if he’s going with Peter?

On cue, Peter had sat in the chair next to yours in the small break room, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Pete. You excited for Saturday?” Peter quietly stirred his coffee and gave you a small smile, “Uh, yeah. I’m nervous, but I’ve worked really hard on this. And everyone, too. Including you.”

You slightly blushed. I didn't do all that much you thought. You two just sat there taking small sips from the hot, bitter beverage.

“So… I wanted to ask you something,” Peter started.

“Mhm?” The coffee nearly slipped past your lips. You quickly grabbed a napkin to lightly dab some of it off of your lips.

“Well, as you know, we can bring anyone with us to the convention,” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Is he going to…

“And I wanted to know if you were bringing MJ with you.” Oh. You nodded your head and thought you hid your disappointment well but without knowing, Peter actually caught it for a split second. “Good. You can come with me,” he smiled and stood up.

You were in awe; without effort, Peter just asked you to be his date for Saturday.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

“Dude, how are you not ready yet? He’s gonna be here any minute,” MJ sat at her computer per usual working. Your music was too loud for her taste playing from your shared bathroom. Peter said he would pick you up at 7, and it was currently 6:50.

You had put on and removed your make-up at least five times. Something was always wrong; one of the wings would either be thicker than the other, the blush would be the wrong shade, or the lipliner kept going out of place. But, alas, you finally nailed it.

Your hair was styled half up with elegant curls and braids. In between some braids were little bits of baby’s breath flowers. Most likely, you were going to have a hard time taking those out but they looked cute and it was too late to take them out.

Your dress was right above your knee and flowed comfortably so you wouldn't have a hard time walking. It was a neutral taupe color and had a V-line that ended just above cleavage and hugged the curve of your waist. You paired it with simple black heels and a small, white handbag.

“He’s here,” MJ informed you.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, “what do you think?” You spun around and held your arms out. “You look really pretty. Now go get ‘em. I’ll watch it on the live stream.” She gave you a lazy thumbs up and resumed her work.

Outside was Peter in an all-black apparel. His dress shirt had only one button undone, and he had a loose blazer that accentuated the dip of his shoulders. He stood against the limo with his hands at his sides. God, he’s gonna be the death of me.

When he caught sight of you, he had a flirtatious smirk on his lips and held out for your hand. “Peter, where’d this limo come from?”

“Mr. Stark set it up for me,” he stated like it was no big deal. Must be nice being his favorite. He held the door for you to climb in and closed the door behind him. “We’re ready, Happy,” he told the driver. Happy rolled his eyes, closed the window and drove off.

The convention was off to a great start; Tony Stark came in with his suit as he always loved to do and started introductions before everyone else scattered around to look at the projects of the many departments in his company. Some groups of certain departments had large stages, some had small stands, like Peter’s.

There were still large crowds coming to see the smaller presentations, and everyone seemed to be fascinated with Peter's. You stood on the side as his team operated the machine and Peter spoke. He looked confident and it was mesmerizing to watch him.

After the night was over, all employee’s and some guests were brought back to headquarters for the after party. You walked around with Peter and had flutters in your heart every time he held the small of your back. The most exciting part of the night was meeting Tony Stark in person. He greeted Peter warmly, and then his eyes landed on you, “Peter, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of mine,” he gestured for you. You shook Tony’s hand and stood starstruck. “The one you don’t shut up about?” Pepper hit his shoulder and laughed nervously.

“Wait, I’ve heard about you. Buddy of mine works at Empire State and he showed me your paper, it was really good.” You were still shocked that he had even read it and here he was talking to you about it. You went back and forth talking about nano-technology.

On the way home, you and Peter talked and laughed about things you told him as you caught him up to what was happening on campus when he couldn't be there. It was a really fun night, and Peter was more noticeably relaxed now that the hard part was over. “Alright, home sweet home,” Happy announced through the window.

“Well, that’s me,” you smiled sadly, not wanting the night to end. You reached to open the door but Peter climbed out from his side. He walked around to open your door and just like he did earlier, held his hand out for you to grab and assist you out the limo. What was different this time was that he kept his hand in yours as he walked you to the door of the apartments. “I had a great time with you tonight,” Peter confessed.

“Me too,” your voice was soft and low for only him to hear. Peter’s eyes switched from looking into yours to your lips before he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. The kiss was needy, passionate, but had a certain gentleness to it. Once he felt you kiss him back with the same fervor, he deepened the kiss and brought one hand to pull your waist closer to him.

You pulled apart to regain your breath and looked to admire his swollen lips and he copied the same notion. He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss and pulled away, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Peter.” Your cheeks were flushed and your face was warm. You watched him as he left and ran inside. Upstairs in your apartment, you found MJ and Ned sitting on the couch with a bag of chips in each of their hands.

“Good night?” Ned asked. You just nodded and walked slowly to your room.

“We saw the whole thing, by the way,” MJ said nonchalantly. You looked back to glare at your best friends, Ned smiling innocently at you and MJ keeping her straight face.

You changed into your pajamas and laid on your bed on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You couldn't wait to go back to work on Monday.

—

requests open!

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #requested #requests open #peter parker au #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #spider man imagine #spider man x reader #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #spider man fluff #spider man smut

[mydogisveryadorbs]

falling | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj never meant to fall in love with you, it just happened

warnings: cursing, drug use (weed), little angsty, SOFT JJ, fluff, fluff, fluff

a/n: thank you for this amazing request sweet anon! i hope you enjoy it!

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

6.5k+ words

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

Rain is something that every Kildare resident has become accustomed to. The rainy summer months were simply a nuisance to everyone who lived in the OBX. 

You couldn't quite understand the contempt the people of this town had for the bad weather. To you, the rain was refreshingly familiar. It reminds you of splashing in the puddles with your older brother and being playfully scolded by your mother for tracking mud into the house. The rain is your childhood.

When you spot the dark clouds on your way out of the house that morning, your mood becomes instantly brighter. You play upbeat music as you walk to visit your dad at work. 

Your father is the manager of Kildare’s finest Resort and Spa so you practically grew up there. Making friends has never come easily for you and so some of your finest childhood memories were made running through the grass fields in the courtyard and being the honorary taste tester for the kitchen staff. 

The rain gives you an extra skip in your step and you rush through helping your dad with some of his paperwork so you can get back outside quicker.

Not every Kildare native has the same mindset that you do. To JJ Maybank, the rain is a reminder of the days he was forced to stay inside with his father. The cracking thunder reminds him of being hidden under his bedsheets in fear, with no one to comfort him.

The blonde’s fingers quickly fumble to punch in the well-known number of his best friend. The phone rings, and rings, and rings, until the crackly sound of John B’s voicemail box fills his ears. He tries Kiara and even Pope, before ultimately giving up.

The one day his bike is in the shop, it rains and none of his friends answer their phones.

Despite every instinct he has, JJ knows he has no choice but to walk home in the rain. His clothes are already sopping wet against his skin even after a brief minute of standing under the downpour.

He shivers, arms wrapping around his body as he prepares himself to make the journey home.

Before JJ can even take one step forward, a bright yellow blob moves towards him, catching his attention. The blob slowly morphs into a figure as it approaches.

“Hello,” a sweet feminine voice calls out to him. JJ’s brows instantly furrow at the sight of the teen girl in the bright yellow raincoat, holding an equally bright, yellow umbrella.

“Um, hi?” he replies over the sound of the rain, his voice coming out in more of a questioning tone.

You quickly move your hand so that your small umbrella is covering both of your heads.

“Thanks,” JJ mutters, still confused. You offer him a sweet smile. He takes the moment to scan your face. You're easily one of the most gorgeous girls he's ever seen and he wonders how he's gone this long without noticing you. 

“You looked like you needed it more than me,” you explain with a shrug, eyes falling away from JJ’s piercing blue ones. “Where are you headed? I didn't drive here but I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind if I borrowed his car to take you home.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh, um, your Mr. (Y/L/N)’s daughter right?” You reply with a simple nod. “It's fine, I'll just walk.”

Your lips pull down into a sudden frown and JJ has an intense urge to make you smile again. “It would be much faster for me to drive you,” you urge, “Plus, if you walk home without an umbrella, you'll definitely catch a cold.”

JJ can't help but smile softly at your kindness which you eagerly return with one of your own. “How ‘bout you just let me borrow your umbrella then?” he asks jokingly.

“Well that would work, but this is my favorite umbrella.” This is a lie. You have two other umbrellas just like it at home.

“Well I guess you'll just have to give me a ride home then,” JJ gives in.

Your smile grows as you link your arm with the blondes and pull him to your dad's fancy sports car. JJ gives you directions back to the Chateau and you oblige. 

The two of you make conversation for almost the entire drive, only breaking when you stop to turn up a song you like. JJ is pleasantly surprised when you never mention the length of the drive or the rundown houses you pass.

A few minutes later, You pull up to the chateau, putting the car in park. The car goes quiet besides the sound of rain hitting the rooftop. 

JJ looks over at you with a soft smile. “Thank you, really, for the ride,” he tells you genuinely as he gathers his things.

“Any time, Maybank.”

Over the next two weeks, you start to spend a little more time at the hotel, bumping into JJ anytime the opportunity arises. The blonde is used to eating his lunch on his own in the back room, but when you ask if he'll join you for lunch on the golf course, he can't possibly say no.

“So then my friend John B had to practically drag me out of the water,” JJ says, continuing his story about getting stung by a jellyfish. “I couldn't walk for three straight days.” His words are muffled by the bite of the sandwich he has in his mouth causing you to giggle. JJ smiles at the sound, wanting nothing more than to make you laugh like that again.

“You know I've always wanted to learn how to surf,” you tell him, causing his eyes to widen. “But after your stories, I might not,” you add with a laugh.

“You've never been surfing,” the blonde asks in disbelief to which you respond with a head shake. “How long have you lived here?”

You smile. “All my life.”

“You've lived here all your life and you've never been surfing?” 

“I've been paddleboarding,” you offer with a sheepish smile.

JJ chuckles slightly at your lame joke, but mostly at how adorable you are. “Come surfing with me tomorrow,” he says, softly grabbing your hand in his causing you to blush hard.

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. I have the day off and my friends and I were planning to go anyway.”

Your eyes widen and you gulp slightly. “Your friends are going to be there,” you ask warily.

JJ nods in confusion. “Yeah my friends will be there, unless,” a look of realization sweeps over his face, “Oh. You don't want to go with my friends.” His hand drops yours onto the blanket you brought.

“No,” you tell him earnestly, grabbing his hand back. “It's not that I don't want to go with them, it's that I don't think they will want me there.” JJ looks at you in confusion. “You and your friends are the most looked up to friend group on this island. It's an unspoken thing that everyone wants to be you guys. I just don't think they'll want me butting into your group.”

JJ frowns. Is that really what you think of yourself? The blonde has only known you for a few weeks, but at that time he's decided that you are the kindest, most selfless person on this island. Why you are unable to see that, is beyond him.

It's the first moment in JJ’s life that he has the sudden urge to kiss you. But he can't, he knows that. He knows it won't be the last time he gets this feeling (not with your perfect pouty lips and kind heart around him all the time), but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind for now.

“(Y/N),” he says, drawing your attention back up to his eyes. “Trust me, they'll love you.” What's not to love? But he doesn't say that last part out loud.

JJ doesn't know it, but this moment is also the first time you have the urge to kiss him. The urge to wrap your hands around his neck and pull his lips to meet yours. Your heart rate increases rapidly and you push the thought aside as well.

With promises of meeting the next day, you bid JJ goodbye, the butterflies in your stomach not diminishing until the blonde is out of your sight.

The next afternoon you spend thirty minutes trying on all of your bikinis. You want more than anything to have a good impression on JJ’s friends. 

You are slipping a pale green tank top over your bikini as the doorbell echos through your house. “I'll get it,” you tell out, hoping no one gets to the door first.

Grabbing the rest of your things and shoving them into your tote bag, you quickly run downstairs. When you make it to the door you spot your older brother Sam reaching to open it.

“Sam wait,” you yell, rushing to open the door first. You pull the handle revealing JJ. He's dressed in a pair of grey cargo shorts, a worn black tank top, and his infamous red snapback. “Hey,” you say with a smile.

“Hey.”

“(Y/N), where are you going,” Sam asks from behind you. You turn around to see your brother giving you a look that resembles that of a worried parent.

“I'm going surfing with JJ and his friends,” you tell him quickly. JJ waves at your brother, slightly intimidated by the tall boy.

Sam looks over your shoulder at JJ before snapping his eyes back to you. “Did you tell mom and dad about this?”

You roll your eyes lightly. “I'm not ten, Sam,” you say sarcastically. “I don't have to get permission every time I leave the house.”

Sam’s eyes move back to JJ, only to see that the blue-eyed boy is already looking at you. “Keep her safe, will you?” he asks with a sigh.

JJ looks at your brother. “Of course,” he promises.

You smile, kissing your brother on the cheek. “Love you, Sam.”

He responds with the same and the two of you are quickly moving off your front porch and towards the street.

JJ watches your expression as you approach the pogue van, expecting some sort of disgust of their old vehicle.

He opens the passenger door for you, making you blush hard, before moving to the driver's seat. “Sorry it's not the nicest car,” he says as the van sputters to life, slightly cringing at the sound of the old engine.

“What are you talking about,” you say with an honest smile, “This is literally the coolest car ever.” You stick your hand out the window letting the wind hit it as giggles escape from your mouth.

JJ’s lips stretch into a wide smile at the sight. 

The two of you laugh and sing along to whatever song comes on the radio. It's just like the night you drove him home from the hotel except now, the sun is shining bright above you.

When JJ pulls the van up to the front of the run down Chateau, you feel your palms begin to sweat. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask the boy next to you, not taking your eyes off the front porch.

JJ smiles. “They're gonna love you,” he says confidently, “Now come on before I die of heatstroke.” He hops out of the car, running around to your side and helping you out.

You chew your lips nervously as the two of you walk up the steps and across the front porch. 

“We're here,” JJ announces as he opens the door for you. 

The first thing you notice when you enter the little house is the pungent smell of weed. Despite not smoking yourself, you don't mind the scent. The second thing you notice is the three teenagers sitting on a worn couch.

A girl with curly brown hair throws her hands up into the air. “JJ’s brought a girl home,” she exclaims with a chuckle. 

The blonde beside you rolls his eyes. “Shut up Kie.”

The girl who you assume is Kiara, stands up, and runs over to you. Much to your surprise, she pulls you into a tight hug. You stand there in confusion for a second before hugging her back. “I'm Kiara, but you can call me Kie,” she says, pulling away. “Those two dumbasses are John B and Pope,” Kie tells you, pointing to the two boys still sitting on the couch. They lift their chins in a greeting.

“So are you guys ready,” JJ asks, breaking the tension. 

The boys stand up and the five of you walk outside before piling into the van. John B and Kiara sit in the front and JJ, Pope, and you in the back.

“JB, where's Sarah,” Pope asks. 

“Couldn't make it,” John B replies, “Said she had family stuff.”

“John B, you're dating Sarah Cameron, right?” you ask sweetly.

John B nods. “Yeah, you know her?”

“Not really, we had English together last year,” you say, watching as the brunette boy’s expression remains stoic. “I don't know if she'll like me though. I kind of punched her brother in third grade for making fun of my friend's dress.”

The whole group laughs loudly and you blush hard, not meaning for that to slip out. JJ uses the moment to wrap his arms discreetly across your shoulders.

“I think she'll definitely like you then,” John B says. “That's badass.”

A few minutes later, the van pulls up to a secluded spot on the beach.

“Wow, it's beautiful here,” you say in awe.

JJ nods as he and Kie take the surfboards down from the roof of the van. “This is our secret pogue spot.”

“Oh,” you say looking down, feeling out of place.

Pope hands you one of the boards. “You're basically an honorary pogue if we bring you here,” he says with a kind smile. “Think of this as your initiation.”

You smile back, relieved that JJ’s friends aren't annoyed by your presence. JJ tries to hide a smile of his own, loving that you are getting along with his friends considering they're the only family he has.

The five of you walk down to the beach, finding a good spot to lay down your stuff. 

JJ can't take his eyes off of you as you slip your tank top over your head. His little heart can't handle how gorgeous you are. You're wearing a small blue and white floral bikini, leaving little to the imagination.

“You okay, Maybank?” you ask, snapping him out of his trance. He nods dumbly, making you chuckle. “C’mon,” you say, grabbing your board in one hand and holding the other out to the blonde.

This sets him into motion and he quickly grabs his own board and links his fingers with yours. He has to remind himself to take in this moment, wanting to remember the first time you ever held his hand. 

“So how do I do this,” you ask once you have paddled out into the water. 

JJ nods. “Normally I would have you do some exercises on land first, but I say you just go for it,” he says, floating on the board next to you.

“Great plan, Maybank,” you say with a slight eye roll. “If I die it's on you.”

JJ laughs. “You're not gonna die, (Y/N),” he tells you. “The waves are small today anyways.”

He explains the basics of how and where to stand before demonstrating on a wave. You admire how his tan body moves gracefully on the board. He makes it look so easy and you smile at the look of concentration he has.

JJ ladles back out to where you are when he is done. “Maybank,” you exclaim. “That was amazing.”

JJ smiles wide. “Now it's your turn.”

You grimace. “It's not gonna look like that.”

“Don't worry, that took years of practice,” he encourages before pointing behind you. “Look, there's a perfect wave coming.”

You look at the wave, gulping in anticipation. “Wish me luck.”

“You got this,” he yells making you laugh. Your heart pounds in your chest as you line yourself up the way JJ had. When the wave comes toward you, you attempt to put your foot where JJ told you. Instead, you miss and fall into the water before you even have the chance to stand.

JJ’s heart drops the moment your head disappears under the water. The waves weren't too big and the current shouldn't be strong at this time of day, but he couldn't help the sick feeling he got watching you fall.

The moment your head pops up out of the water he breathes a sigh of relief. The sound of your laughter is enough to calm his anxieties.

You slide back on your board, paddling back over to JJ. “Well that was embarrassing,” you say with a giggle.

JJ smiles with a small shake of his head. “No one gets it on their first try,” he reassures her. “If you stood up just now I would have sent you straight to a surfing competition.”

A few more tries (and fails) later you notice the sun starting to set over the horizon. 

“You ready to go back in,” JJ asks from his board next to you.

You shake your head. “I want to give it one more go,” you tell him. “But you go in and watch from the beach.”

The blonde frowns. “Are you sure?” 

“I'll be fine, Maybank,” you say with a small smile. “Plus, then you can watch me better when I shred some waves,” you add in a mock surfer voice. 

JJ gives you a slight eye roll before making his way to shore. He meets up with the rest of the pogues who are coming back from up the beach where they had found some bigger waves.

“Getting bored of teaching the newbie,” John B asks when he sees JJ.

JJ gently shoves the boy. “No,” the blonde replies plainly. “She just wanted to give it one last try before we head in.”

The four of them watch from the sand as you make your way towards an upcoming wave.

“I bet you five bucks she doesn't even stand,” John B whispers to Pope.

“Hey,” JJ snaps, turning to look at his two friends. “What are you two idiots doing.”

“Definitely not betting on your girlfriend,” Pope says, sarcasm laced in his voice.

JJ blushes at the word 'girlfriend’. “She's not my girlfriend.”

Even Kie rolls her eyes at this. “Yeah, okay.”

They go silent as you get closer to the wave, watching as you paddle along it. In one graceful motion, you position your feet, straightening your legs until you are standing.

The four pogues cheer as you ride the wave. It's definitely not perfect, but JJ couldn't be more proud. 

You ride the wave in, throwing your board on the sand as you run-up to the group. “I did it guys,” you exclaim happily.

Running up to JJ, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, practically jumping into his arms. He catches you easily, spinning you around in excitement.

The blonde puts you down after a minute, reluctant to let go of you. You look up into his eyes, feeling the tension grow.

“You did awesome, girly,” Kie says, drawing your attention away from JJ.

He smiles as he watches you interact with his friends. At that exact moment, his heart feels so full, but he can't explain it.

After everyone is done congratulating you, the six of you gather your things before piling into the van. You tell jokes and chat on the way back to your house.

You give JJ a soft kiss on the cheek before bidding everyone else goodbye. Despite rolling his eyes when his three best friends make fun of him for it, having your lips on his cheek is the last thing he thinks about before drifting off to sleep that night.

Yes, he's definitely falling for you.

Over the next few weeks, you grew closer and closer with the pogues. A few days after your surfing adventure you met Sarah Cameron for the first time, and after that, you were basically a pogue yourself.

When you invited JJ over for dinner at your house, the blonde assumed your parents would hate him like every other kook family. However, your parents and brother treated him with nothing but kindness and respect (how could they not after all the stories you have told them). 

Looking back, that was the night you knew you were in love with JJ. Watching him laugh and have meaningful conversations with your family made you fall even harder for him.

Tonight, almost five months after you first met JJ on that rainy night, you are lounging on the floor of John B’s living room cracking jokes with your friends.

You told your parents you were spending the night at Kiara’s, knowing that they would ask fewer questions.

“Kie, pass me the blunt, would you,” John B asks from his spot next to Sarah. 

You are sitting next to JJ, your legs stretched across his and your back pressed against the couch. Your eyes watch as John B places the blunt to his lips, inhaling the vapor.

The brunette lifts an eyebrow. “You wanna hit, (Y/N),” John B asks, holding the blunt out with two fingers.

Before you can even open your mouth, the blonde beside you speaks up. “She doesn't smoke JB,” he says annoyed at his best friend for even asking.

You look at him confidently. “Actually, I think I'd like to try,” you say, causing everyone to look at you in shock. 

“You sure?” JJ asks softly from next to you. You nod and John B passes you the blunt.  

Placing it in between your lips, you inhale like you had seen John B do earlier. Only, when you do it, it sends you into a coughing fit.  

JJ rubs your back with a slight eye roll. “Atta girl,” he says with a small chuckle.

It doesn't take long for you to be high out of your mind. You're a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and you probably should have guessed you would be a lightweight when it came to weed too.

At some point in the night, you find yourself sprawled out on one of the hammocks outside in a large, ratty t-shirt you assume belongs to JJ. The stars spin above you and you giggle. 

“(Y/N)?” you hear the voice of the boy you're madly in love with, approach.

“Maybank,” you cheer when he finds you on the hammock. He gestured for you to move over and once you do so he plops down next to you.

You're instantly pulled into JJ’s toned chest and you let your head rest easily on his shoulder.

“Is everyone else asleep?” you attempt to whisper, but it comes out louder than you had anticipated. 

JJ’s hands find your hair and begin to play with it lightly. “Mhm.”

“So it's just me and you?” you ask sweetly, words slightly slurred from the weed in your system. 

He hopes you can't hear how fast his heart is beating from having you this close. “Just you and me.”

“JJ can I ask you a question,” you mumble, the weed making you only slightly more confident.

“F’course,” JJ tells you.

You use your fingers to trace lazy patterns on his bare chest. “How come you never call me any nicknames,” you ask with a pout. “Like I call you ‘Maybank’, y’know and you have a nickname for every one of our friends except me.”

JJ doesn't answer right away and even your wasted mind thinks that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ask. 

“Because I like your name,” he finally says after a while.

A small “oh” is all you can muster, so the blonde boy continues. “I like saying your name. It's really pretty and I like the way it sounds,” he tries to explain, slightly cringing at his words.

“I like you,” you blurt, but it comes out in a slow drawl.

“What,” JJ asks quickly, eyes widening in shock. When you don't reply, he looks down at you only to find you fast asleep on his chest.

His brain is going a mile a minute trying to comprehend what you said. You must've meant it in a friendly way because there's no way someone like you would like a guy like him. Right?

The blonde lays there for hours, unable to sleep with your words on his mind (and your head over his heart). Finally, he coaxes himself to sleep with the thought that you were high out of your mind and didn't mean anything you said.

The next morning you wake up alone in the bed of John B’s guest room. You have no idea how you got there and have little recollection of the previous night.

You stumble out of the small room with a headache and feeling slightly nauseous.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Sarah says with a smile when you appear in the kitchen. 

You look around the room, noticing that you were the last one awake. “What happened last night,” you groan, plopping down in the seat between Kiara and JJ

“Well,” Pope says with a smirk. “You had your first official experience with weed.”

You groan again, laying your head in your arms which are folded on the table. You feel a familiar hand rest on your back and you turn your head to look at JJ. He smiles at you and a sea of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, sitting up. JJ pouts at your words and you giggle, leaning over to give him a small kiss on the cheek which unbeknownst to you, makes his stomach fill with butterflies too. 

You bid goodbye to the rest of your friends, before stumbling out of the chateau and to your car. 

JJ’s eyes follow your body until it is completely out of sight. When he finally sees your car pulling out of the driveway, he looks back to his friends only to find all of them staring at him. “What?”

“Just tell her you love her already,” Kiara says with a dramatic groan causing JJ’s eyes to widen. 

John B nods. “Seriously, dude,” he says, “You gotta do it before she gets tired of waiting.”

“What are you guys talking about,” JJ asks innocently despite knowing exactly what his friends are talking about.

“The two of you are madly in love with each other so what are you doing wasting this time you could be spending together,” Sarah reasons.

JJ knows his friends are right, but he doesn't need them breathing down his neck when he does decide to tell you.

You, on the other hand, realized a few seconds into your drive that you forgot your phone. You had turned around and were now making your way back up the porch steps.

“I do not like (Y/N),” lies through his teeth, having no idea that you could hear him clearly through the mesh screen door. “She's just a spoiled, kook, brat that I happened to take pity on. She means nothing to me.”

Each word that passes from JJ’s lips is like a knife to your heart. Completely forgetting your phone, you don't waste any time running back to your car. Hot tears stream down your face at a steady rate as you attempt to get as far away as possible from the boy who broke your heart. 

“Okay keep telling yourself that,” John B says to JJ with a small smirk on his lips.

JJ rolls his eyes, but on the inside, he is longing for your sweet lips to press to his cheek again. The dense blonde has no idea that the girl he loves with his whole heart, is currently broken because of him.

Over the next few days, you make every excuse in the book not to see the pogues, knowing that even being in the same room as JJ would be too much. 

When Kiara brings by your phone from the Chateau, you immediately break down and tell her what you witnessed. The curly-haired girl wants to tell you the whole truth, but she figures it should come from the idiotic blonde himself.

After three days of not hearing from you, JJ’s worry starts to eat him alive. What if you were sick? Or sad? Or what if you finally realized you were too good for him?

Despite the drizzling rain, JJ takes his bike and makes his way to your house as quickly as he can.

When he knocks on your large oak door and your brother opens it, JJ is immediately brought back to the first day he came to your house. He remembers the pride he felt when you first stood up on that board. 

“Hey, Sam. Is (Y/N) here?” he asks, peaking around your brother's shoulder as if you would be standing there like you were that one day.

“No,” Sam says harshly, immediately slamming the door shut in JJ’s face. 

The blonde is left there in confusion wondering what is wrong. He knocks on the door again, louder this time. 

Sam opens the door again. “What?” he snaps.

“I know she's here,” JJ explains seriously. “I can see her bedroom light from her window and she never leaves her light on.”

Your brother scowls at JJ’s words as if it's an abomination that he knows such an intimate fact about you.

“Leave, JJ,” Sam says, slightly calmer now. “She doesn't want to see you.” He shuts the door again, causing JJ’s heart to break slightly.

What does he mean you don't want to see him?

The blonde steps away from your front door and moves under your bedroom window. The rain is falling much harder now, causing JJ’s curls to plaster to his forehead.

He glances up at your window, suddenly having an idea. It takes him a few tries, but JJ is able to scale your house and make it to your small balcony.

He peers into your room, spotting you laying on your bed, with your back facing him. JJ knocks lightly on your window and you snap your head in his direction. 

Your eyes widen when you see his sopping wet form and for a second you forget why you're laying alone in the first place. You rush to the window, undoing the hinges and pulling JJ inside.

Once the blonde is standing in front of you, his words from the other night come rushing back.

“What are you doing here, JJ,” you ask with a small sigh, wrapping your hoodie-clad arms around your stomach.

The blonde frowns. “You called me JJ.”

“That's your name isn't it?” 

“Yeah, but yo-you never,” JJ stumbles over his words. “Are you okay? Why haven't you been answering my texts or calls?”

“I was busy,” you say with a shrug, sitting back onto your bed.

“You know you can talk to me, right,” JJ asks as he takes a small step closer to you. “I'll always be here for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay,” you mumble sarcastically. 

JJ flinches back. “What's going on (Y/N)? You're not being yourself. You are always there for me and my problems, so you should know that I'll always be here for you and whatever it is you're going through,” he tells you honestly.

“Oh yeah because you took pity on me, right?” you snap, looking him dead in the eyes as a few tears fall down your cheeks. A look of confusion spreads across his features. “Because I'm a ‘spoiled, kook, brat’ right?”

JJ's heart drops to the pit of his stomach as he realizes what you are talking about. His eyes well with tears knowing why you've been hurting the past few days.

“(Y/N),” he all but whimpers. His hands reach out for you but you pull back.“Please, let me explain.”

You harshly wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I think you made yourself very clear the other day. Leave, JJ,” you tell him.

JJ shakes his head as panic builds in his chest. He struggles to breathe as he realizes that he is about to lose you before he even truly has you.

His breathing becomes more and more erratic and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“JJ,” you ask softly, noticing the arising panic attack. The blonde looks up at you, fear evident in his eyes. Despite the pain, he put you through, you still love him and can't stand to see him in pain. “C'mere JJ,” you say softly, pulling him to sit on your bed. You crouch down below him, shushing him softly.

“You gotta breathe with me,” you tell him, making sure he's watching as you take a few big breaths in. He is able to take a few shaky breaths and soon his heart rate has slowed to a somewhat normal rate, JJ collapses into your arms. “You're okay. It's gonna be okay.”

JJ frowns, pulling away from you slightly. “Why are you being so nice to me,” he asks shakily. “After everything I've done?”

You shrug, looking down.

He uses two of his fingers to gently lift your chin so you are looking at him. “Please let me explain,” he whispers and you nod slightly. “After you left that day, the pogues were messing with me, saying that I was so in love with you n ’shit, so I had to say something that would get them to shut up,” he says quickly, wanting to get through his story so you will stop hurting. 

“Nothing I said that day was remotely close to the truth. You are the most kind-hearted person on this island, and for me to even say that you aren't, it's just, I'm so sorry,” he says. “I never meant to hurt you, but I couldn't have the pogues thinking I was in love with you.”

Your heart falls at his words. “Because that would be embarrassing, right?” you say, trying to hide the dejection you are feeling.

“No.” You look up at him in confusion. “Because I didn't want you to find out before I got the courage to tell you myself.”

“What?” 

“I'm in love with you (Y/N),” he says with a small smile on his face. “I have completely fallen for you. Everything you do, everything you say, everything you are. You’re my first thought in the morning, you’re my last thought before I fall asleep, and you're almost every thought in between.”

The room goes silent and the only sound that can be heard is the rain softly hitting your window. 

“Now is where you say something,” he says with an awkward chuckle.

You open your mouth to speak, but everything you want to say to the boy in front of you is stuck in your throat. “I-” you manage to sutter out.

JJ sighs. “It’s okay,” he says standing up, leaving you to fall limply against your bed. “I figured this would happen. You don’t have to say anything.”

When he moves towards your window, your body seems to catch up with your brain and you run to stop him. JJ turns around, but before he can get a word out, you press your lips to his. 

You swear you see sparks fly behind your eyes the moment your lips meet his. The kiss starts softly at first and then builds with an intensity that has you gripping his shoulders for balance. This kicks the blonde into motion. He places one hand softly on your cheek and uses the other to tug your waist closer to him. 

The intoxicating taste of weed and mint lulls you closer as your lips move together perfectly. Neither of you ever want to stop. Moving your right hand to lace your fingers in his hair, you tug slightly, causing him to let out a small groan. You smile into the kiss before reluctantly pulling yourself away.

“That was…” JJ trails off breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” you agree with a chuckle. “Look, when I first met you, I never would have imagined that I would have such strong feelings for you. I never would have thought that I would miss being by your side, or get butterflies in my stomach when someone mentions your name. When I first met you, I never would’ve thought that I would love you the way I do.”

Tears brim JJ’s eyes as your words fill his heart. “So, you…”

“I love you, Maybank,” you say, not looking away from his eyes.

“Say it again,” he asks in a small voice, eyes wide like he can’t believe the words you are actually saying.

You smile wide. “I love you, so much.”

JJ pulls your body tight to his chest and buries his head into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything,” he mumbles into your neck. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say.”

You chuckle, lifting his head off your shoulder and cupping his cheeks with your hands. You place a few soft kisses to his pouty lips causing him to smile wide. “I forgive you, but only because you're cute,” you tell him.

He blushes slightly, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks and then your lips. Both of you have big smiles on your face when you pull away. “How have I gone this long without kissing you,” JJ says causing you to giggle. He uses the pads of his thumbs to trace your cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful,” the blonde whispers, voice laced with sincerity. 

You blush hard and nuzzle your face into his chest. After a second you look back up at him. “Stay the night?” you ask.

JJ nods. “Of course, my love.”

Smiling at the name you pull him towards your closet. “I thought you didn't give me nicknames,” you tease and he shrugs his shoulders. 

“That was before,” he says with a smile. 

You hum in response, handing him some of his clothes that either he had left at your house or you had stolen from the Chateau. Once he is changed out of his wet clothes, the two of you climb into your bed. 

JJ instantly pulls you snug to his chest and you get comfortable and he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. 

Both of you know that everything will change after today. Everything is different now, but for some reason, it feels normal to the two of you. It feels like this was how it was meant to be. Just you and JJ, together.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Maybank.”

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

masterlist

#jj #jj fic #jj x oc #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fluff #Outer Banks #outer banks series #john b routledge #jj outer banks #outer banks fic #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #john b x sarah #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy