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fangswbenefits · 5 months

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The Arrangement (5) - Confrontation

Summary: Living under the same roof as Astarion was proving to me more of a challenge than you had anticipated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Nightmare. Hurt/Comfort. Innuendo. Heavy use of sarcasm hahaha.

Word count: 4.4k

Previous chapter. Ao3. Series Masterlist

If anyone had suggested a few days ago that you'd find yourself living under the same roof as Astarion, you would have called them delusional and point them to the nearest infirmary for a mental check.

But the wheels of fate turned in mysterious ways, and a mere glance at the man sitting across from you was proof enough of that.

The flames swirling and crisping in the nearby fireplace cast the most delicate yellow and orange tint on his pale complexion as he flipped the pages of a book you had lent him.

You had tried to focus on your own reading, but you just couldn't help but to occasionally shift your gaze to him.

Gods… it was nigh criminal how handsome this man was.

It was as if he had been hand-carved by someone intended on wreaking havoc in the name of beauty.

And, as far as you were concerned, they had thoroughly succeeded.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and he met your gaze dead-on, unblinkingly.

So handsome…

A cold shiver ran up the back of your neck, but you found herself unable to look away. It was as if, in that moment, you had managed to block out everything around you but him. The longer you stared at him, the more acutely you felt detached from reality.

“May I kiss you?”

You blinked a few times. “What?”

His eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raised in sheer perplexity.

“No need to look so offended, darling,” he said with a scoff, rising from his seat and snatching the candle holder from the table to your right. “I was merely asking for this. I apologise if the request is out of the realm of your ‘one hundred good deeds I must perform before I perish’ list.”

You blinked again.

What?

You glanced around, but judging from the lack of reaction from both Gale and Shadowheart, you figured that maybe he hadn't actually asked to kiss you.

Great. Now I'm hallucinating…

He returned to his padded chair with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I've seen more light in the deepest corners of the Shadowlands.”

Maybe sleep deprivation was finally taking its toll on you, rendering you delirious.

Regardless, the illusion had been enough to flare your heart, and you hurriedly focused your attention on the book in your hands.

“I had quite forgotten how peacefully silent it can be without having you around, Astarion.” Shadowheart spoke as she tended to a few rolls of parchment and letters.

“Well, you can thank Wyll for that.”

She ignored him. “All you do is complain.”

You felt a storm brewing on the horizon as you lifted your eyes to glance at him.

Astarion let out a cynical laugh. “You're one to speak.”

Shadowheart was now scowling. Deeply.

“Besides, that is a rather disingenuous accusation. Want proof?” he asked, clearing his throat. “So, Gale - what are you reading that has you scribbling about like a mad man?”

The wizard snapped out of his nose-deep dive and brought his quill to a halt with a beaming smile. “Glad you ask, my friend. ‘A Visual Guide to Baldur's Gate's Exquisite Cuisine’. First edition. Hand-signed by the finest chefs in the city. What a marvel, indeed.”

As expected, Astarion looked as unimpressed as ever, but you interjected before he could mouth anything obtuse.

“That sounds rather exciting, Gale.”

He nodded eagerly. “A small guilty pleasure of mine, I must say. I'm taking down some notes, so that I can - hopefully - prepare some delectable dishes for us.”

Shadowheart's eyes remained fixed on Astarion as if awaiting for him to burst at any moment.

He exchanged a quick glance with you before muttering, “Unbelievable.”

“I think it's to be commended that he cares enough to try,” you said sweetly, earning a scornful glare from him. “I can't wait for you to showcase your abilities, Gale.”

“My sentiments exactly, dear friend.”

Astarion chuckled darkly. “‘Abilities’ as in setting the kitchen ablaze, or…”

You shot him a death glare.

He shrugged. “You two are a match made in the hells.”

This had you snap your book closed with a loud thud, eyeing him defiantly. “So what constitutes an engaging reading to you, Astarion? Murderous ploys?”

His lips curled into a devious smile. “Something along those lines. Although I do enjoy indulging in some debauchery from time to time.”

You weren't sure Gale would set the kitchen ablaze with his cooking skills, but Astarion's blunt and crass words sure did that to your cheeks.

Shadowheart scoffed.

“There are some interesting books in my collection,” he continued, clearly enjoying your loss of composure. “I will gladly lend you some… or maybe offer a guided tour through my favourite pieces?”

You needed to change the subject.

Fast.

You were most definitely fighting a losing battle.

This was Astarion's playground, and he would always come out victorious.

“Must you always resort to such vulgarity?” Shadowheart sneered, shaking her head in disapproval.

“I'm afraid the city is fresh out of those who know how to properly enjoy themselves, and we can't all be dullards, darling.”

You cleared your throat. “So, Gale… you're leaving for Waterdeep soon enough.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Yes. If all goes well, we shall have access to the Wish spell soon enough, my vampling friend.”

Astarion crossed his arms. “Finally some progress.”

“Maybe you should be more thankful.” You said with a frown.

“As should you,” he shot back. “No more need to offer your blood to me.”

Fair enough.

“Much to your disappointment, I imagine.” Shadowheart chimed in.

But before he could retort, you heard a rising commotion outside that only came to a halt as the front door burst open.

Lae'zel came through, carrying what appeared to be a very much deceased wild boar across her shoulders as if it was nothing more than a sack of feathers.

She kicked the door shut at once, nostrils flaring. “Tsk'va! What are those two doing outside?”

“House arrest.” Astarion informed.

Bringing the carcass to the kitchen table, Lae'zel locked eyes with you, visibly annoyed.

“I had plans to rescue you from that prison. And I would have had it my way had it not been for Gale and his… morals.”

Gale bolted from his seat, suddenly looking rather distressed. “Lae'zel, we've spoken about this before and agreed not to bring bleeding carcasses into our home.”

She glared at him. “You alone agreed to it - I had no part in it.”

He gave her an exasperated look, picking up a piece of cloth to wipe away the strands of blood that had begun to run along the wooden surface.

“If this falls on the carpet, it will be a nightmare to remove the stains.”

Astarion tutted. “Darling, that carpet is so hideous that being splattered with carrion blood would be a vast improvement.”

You rose to your feet, rushing to join Lae's zel, who quickly placed her hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Your lips tugged into a genuine smile.

To her, this was the equivalent of ‘I am glad you're safe and I care for you’ and it warmed your heart beyond measure.

Naturally, Astarion quickly joined your side, earning Lae'zel's disdainful gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, it was a two-for-one type of deal, wasn't it?” Astarion mocked, turning to you. “Free one criminal and get two on house arrest.”

Unfortunately for Astarion, Lae'zel had little patience to entertain his sarcastic remarks and merely scoffed.

“I would have easily rescued from that prison, you know?” She gave your shoulder another squeeze and you nodded. “Those frail guards are no match for a githyanki.”

“On that much we can agree.” He mused.

She gave him a stern look. “I would have left you there.”

“We fought a giant brain, a scheming squid, and a whole parade of lunatics side by side, in case you've forgotten, my dear nest of vipers friend,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe you ought to show more gratitude.”

You expected her to snap at him, but she merely pressed her lips and gave him a nod.

That would be as far as she'd go, though.

“Well, as much as I enjoy this ‘family’ reunion, I'm off to my room,” Shadowheart said from a distance, already heading towards the staircase. “Please do not maim each other in my absence - there's only so much healing I can provide.”

You chuckled and she smiled warmly at you.

“Say, Lae'zel…” Astarion started, circling the boar with utmost interest. “I would hate for perfectly adequate blood to go to waste.”

The implication in his words wasn't subtle at all, and she groaned. “I thought you feeding on our friend was enough.”

Your stomach lurched violently.

He scoffed. “There is no such thing as ‘enough’ blood for a vampire. Besides, she's the main course… this would be more of an aperitif, if you will.”

Now, you felt positively sick to your core.

A wave of nausea and repulsion gripped you tight.

“It would be a mutually beneficial situation - I save Gale from a mental breakdown, sparing you tue ordeal, and I also get to quench my hunger.”

Gale grumbled something in agreement.

But you felt the sudden wish to be swallowed whole by some magical hole in the ground.

The way he referred to you as nothing more than food prompted a visceral reaction from you, and you feared you might empty the contents of your stomach from it alone.

“Um… I'll go get some sleep… I'm too tired,” you said dismissively, already pacing towards the corridor that led to your room. “Have a good night.”

Astarion called after you, but you didn't bother looking back.

But before you could turn the doorknob, you heard light steps approaching and firm fingers gripping your forearm.

Astarion.

His face was void of any amusement. “You're upset.”

You pulled free from his grasp. “A neat observation. No wonder you're such a skilled rogue.”

His brows furrowed lightly. “What's the matter?”

“It seems that I'm only worthy of your attention when it comes to you treating me as nothing but a meal, to hurl your sarcastic remarks at. Oh - and unless I'm on the verge of death,” you said, counting on each finger.

He seemed quite taken aback, his features twisting into a scowl. “You really adore selling yourself short, don't you?”

“You won't even deny it.”

“Then what sort of attention do you want from me?” He asked, taking a step closer, the sudden proximity catching you off-guard. “Do enlighten me.”

You glared at him in silence for a moment, vaguely wondering how the two of you had gotten to this point in your relationship, where everything seemed so… off.

Astarion was standing in front of you, but it wasn't truly him.

He was there, but not really.

He seemed so detached from the Astarion you had fallen for, and a part of you loathed that you had allowed yourself to get so attached to him in the first place.

Eventually, you heaved a deep sigh as he awaited your reply. “The sort of attention I don't have to beg for.”

His face softened briefly and he parted his lips only to press them close together again as if he had decided against speaking.

Right.

You swallowed hard. “Have a good night.”

The hopeful part of you half-expected him to stop you from walking away as you closed the door behind you, but he did no such thing.

You pressed your back against it, taking a deep breath, feeling as if you had just lost something.

Had you been too dramatic?

Did it even matter at this point?

Maybe it was better off this way.

You moved to scrub your face clean in the washbasin, preparing yourself to get some rest before the morning came.

Whatever was of your relationship with Astarion would have to wait for you to be able to think more clearer.

Slipping into your nightdress, you allowed yourself to fall on your bed and onto your stomach with a muffled thud, wanting to do nothing more than to scream into the covers, but remained still instead.

After what felt like hours of restlessly rolling beneath the sheets, you felt your mind lighten and were able to find solace in the peace and quiet.

That was until you heard a distant voice.

A woman's voice.

Her voice.

“Go on. Bleed her dry for me…”

You felt the mattress dip slightly and your eyes snapped open only to find Astarion baring his fangs.

And then he was on you, pinning you frozen with both hands.

“No - stop! Get off!”

He didn't hold back and you felt a familiar sting tear through your neck, his cold lips sprawling across your skin.

“She's so pathetic. Just kill her. Put her out of her misery.”

“Get off!” You cried out, feeling his weight pinning you down.

He didn't waver and you felt your blood being drained from you alarmingly fast as you tried your best to yank free from his vicious grip.

You were going to die.

He was going to kill you.

“Stop! Please - Astarion!”

Something was squeezing your shoulder and you tried to squirm away from the increasing pressure.

You felt him chuckle in amusement against your skin and that was what killed you first.

“ASTARION!”

The grip on you kept on increasing and you realised someone was shaking you.

“Wake up.”

How was he speaking whilst fiercely feeding on you?

Were you already dead?

Your cries turned into uncontrollable sobs and you felt like breathing was no longer an option.

“Wake up!”

The shove against your shoulder was too fierce this time, and you jolted violently, feeling the pressure on top of you only faintly ease.

“Get the fuck off me!”

You tried to conjure a spell - any spell - that might help you set yourself free.

He called out your name and your eyes snapped open at once, only to see Astarion hovering over you, hand now pressed firmly against your lips, muffling your sobs.

Bergamot.

Rosemary.

Aged brandy.

It was him.

He was there.

The nightmare faded with each passing second, and, for the longest time, all you could hear were your laboured breaths as you struggled to step into reality.

Your eyes were blurred from the tears welling up, and you watched his lips part to utter something, but the pounding in your ears prevented you from understanding a single word.

He eventually dropped the hand from your mouth, staring at you with an understanding look on his face.

“You're safe."

For a split second, you wondered if this was truly your Astarion, and once you asserted that it was truly him sitting beside you, you pushed yourself from the mattress, looping your arms around his neck.

He took you in his arms, gently pressing his lips to your temple.

“You're safe. I'm here and I've got you."

You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as you pressed your face to his shoulder, seeking any sliver of comfort he could spare you.

The door to your room burst open.

“What happened? What did you do?”

Shadowheart's accusatory tone ground on your already fragile nerves.

“She was having a nightmare.”

His cool hand came to the back of your head, further pressing you into him.

“Oh. Another one…”

You felt your heartbeat soothe and your breathing gradually even out.

But his embrace felt too much like coming home for you to part from him, so you didn't, allowing him to rock you gently in his arms.

“It's become more frequent as of late.” She said with a hint of sadness to her voice.

Astarion kept his lips pressed to your temple, grounding you.

You eventually pulled back from him with a loud sniffle. “I'm fine. I am sorry I worried you…”

Shadowheart approached you, kindness on her face. “Nonsense. I am here for you - we are here for you,” she added, glancing at Astarion. “Always.”

“I'll just try to get some rest… you two may go…” you stammered in between a few sobs.

Shadowheart didn't move and neither did Astarion.

You rubbed your puffy and wet eyes. “I mean it. It will be fine.”

“Very well,” Shadowheart drawled out reluctantly. “But please let me know if there is anything I can help with.”

You gave her a reassuring nod paired with a comforting smile.

She returned the gesture and excused herself, clicking the door shut behind her.

Your gaze shifted to him. “You can leave, too.”?

He scoffed. “No.”

“What?”

“You'll have to stake me.”

You were utterly confused by his perseverance.

“I am fine, Astarion. I am thankful for your help, but… you don't have to stay.”

He nodded. “I don't have to, but I want to.”

Your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

And then your eyes fell to his shoulder.

“Oh, my…” you winced at the sight of the soppy fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry for that…”

He looked confused at first, but followed your line of sight and smiled. “Was this an excuse to get me out of my shirt?”

His playful jab immediately had you chuckle, rolling your eyes at him.

“Not to mention that I've been covered in all sorts of your bodily fluids,” he went on, earning a surprised glare from you. “This might be my…” he paused brielfy, as if evaluating his options. “Ah - my third favourite, yes.”

You should have known better than to take the evident glare, but you could really use the distraction.

“What are the first two, then?”

You hadn't even realised your nightdress had come undone at the front until he reached out to pull back the sleeve that had slid down your arm.

Glancing down, you couldn't help the rush of heat on your cheeks as your breasts were barely covered at all.

“Blood, naturally,” he said in a low voice, tying each set of strings with unmatched dexterity, keeping your modesty preserved. “And your-”

But before he could reply, you quickly pressed your forefinger to his lips, eyes widening as you felt him smile under your touch and pressing a soft kiss.

You felt as though you might implode.

His hands moved up your chest, tying up the last knots.

“There - all neatly wrapped up like a nice little gift.” He said, amusement coating his words.

He was too good at getting under your skin.

More than you were willing to admit, especially out loud.

“Thank you for making me laugh.” You said truthfully, pushing aside how he had so easily made you feel all heated up.

“I aim to please.”

His words hit you like a thousand knives.

“You're more than that…” You said, wanting to reassure him that he didn't need to resort to honeyed words and calculated moves to create a meaningful connection with someone.

But your statement had the opposite effect, and he frowned slightly.

“Don't. Do not start…”

You swallowed and nodded in understanding. “I didn't mean to offend.”

He shook his head, adjusting the fabric of your nightdress over your shoulders. “You didn't. I merely do not wish to make this about me.”

You were slightly taken aback.

“I know all too well the burden of nightmares,” he explained. “Even if elves don't indulge in conventional sleep, we are still prone to nightmares when we trance.”

Oh.

“And I would hate for you to be plagued like that.”

You lowered your gaze, feeling extremely exposed all of a sudden.

“So tell me, darling, when did these start?” He asked, shifting closer to you. “And why were you screaming my name?”

You felt a lump swell in your throat.

He placed his finger under your chin, and pressed upwards until your eyes met his.

“What haunts you?”

You.

“Can we just… not…” You asked, already feeling tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

Reason told you that a heartfelt conversation with Astarion was long overdue, but you didn't feel ready.

You still felt too startled and too vulnerable.

He had hurt you in more ways than one, even if unconsciously done at times.

“We don't have to talk about it.”

You nodded, a few tears rolling down. “Thank you.”

“We can push all of that aside, even if just for tonight.”

Your heart hammered fast inside you.

He then cradled your face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips to each cheek, kissing your tears away.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he trailed down, inching closer to your lips.

A shudder coursed throughout your entire body, barely able to contain the anticipation.

Please kiss me…

His thumbs rubbed slow circles on your flushed cheeks and your lips parted as his ghosted yours.

Astarion…

Almost there.

You could almost taste him.

Your hands came to grip his wrists tightly, silently urging him to take you.

Please… please…

As your heart thudded faster and faster, you gasped when he quickly kissed the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your forehead.

You couldn't deny the overwhelming wave of disappointment that washed over you, even if, deep down, you realised it was probably the best course of action, considering how vulnerable you still felt from the nightmare.

A few more tears spilled over, which he quickly brushed away before pulling back.

“I can stay until you fall asleep.”

Your heart dropped.

Everything was conditional with him.

It was always meant to come to an end, eventually.

He would stay with you… but only until you drifted off to another nightmare, perhaps.

It was as if he couldn't simply stay with you.

You shook your head with a sniffle, letting go of him. “No. You can go… but thank you for this.”

“I can stay.”

“... until I fall asleep.” You finished his sentence.

He nodded, eyes locking with yours. “Or for as long as you need me.”

You felt ridiculous from the way your heart immediately skipped a beat.

“Will you hug me?”

He shifted back against the headboard and sprawled his arms out to you with a sly grin. “Come here, darling.”

For a brief moment, you saw your Astarion again.

Open and caring.

You scooted over to rest your body against his, smiling softly as he placed his arm around you, trailing absent-minded caresses along your arm.

His coldness felt comfortable even in the dead of night, and you wrapped your arm around his torso, enjoying the silence.

“Am I too cold?”

You're perfect.

You shook your head vehemently.

But he still reached out to grab the blanket at your feet, draping over your frame.

“You are shivering, you fool.” He whispered and you could hear the smile in his remark.

You snuggled up against him, wishing you could freeze this moment in time.

Slowly but surely, and lulled by his caresses, you felt exhaustion take over, your eyelids feeling progressively heavier.

Maybe this was all a dream.

Maybe you'd wake up only to find that this had never happened.

That you hadn't felt your Astarion once again.

His chin was resting atop your head and your heart skipped yet another beat.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened to us…”

The hand on your arm stilled for a moment and he hushed you. “Just rest.”

Your eyelids did feel heavy, and you could recognise your own brain fighting away your sleep, but you still wanted to know.

You needed to know what had gone so terribly wrong.

Especially when the man holding you in his arms had just provided immeasurable comfort.

“I miss you… us…” You heard yourself mumble under your breath.

He did utter something unintelligible, but you were far too exhausted to ask for a repeat.

Your warm body slumped against his cold one as he lulled you into sleep with the rhythmic caresses on your back.

It seemed that this time, your nightmare had started and ended with him.

Morning came and he was gone.

Of course he was.

Even with your windows barred from the sun, he had still chosen to leave.

He had tucked you under the bedsheets and warm blankets.

You had nearly forgotten what a good night of sleep was ever since the nightmares had taken root in your mind.

His scent lingered all around you and it was impossible to escape it.

You eventually pushed yourself up to sit in silence, going over the events of a couple of hours ago.

Why did he always leave in the end?

Why couldn't you just bring yourself to move on from him?

You could have taken the time to open up to him about how you felt, but you were so afraid to push him away.

He had his own vulnerabilities and he didn't need yours weighing him down, too.

You lazily scrambled out of bed, slipping into your robe, ready for a new day.

As you made your way down the corridor, you began to hear heated voices coming from the kitchen.

“Must we all live in darkness because of you?”

You found Astarion sitting by the table, seemingly unbothered by Lae'zel's snarky remarks, the room plunged in darkness, keeping the scorching sun at bay.

“Oh please, feel free to address your complaints to the Grand Duke.”

Gale saw you first and offered a warm smile. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

You hugged yourself, forcing a smile. “I am well, thank you.”

Astarion turned his head to you, annoyance giving way to a sliver of concern. “Did you manage to get some rest?”

You nodded, your heart immediately reacting to his presence.

“Shall I brew some chamomile tea?” Gale offered eagerly, moving about the kitchen to gather the supplies.

“Thank you,” you said, glancing around. “Where is Shadowheart?”

“She headed out to the apothecary,” Gale said, placing the kettle by the fireplace. “She's keen on helping you out with these nightmares.”

Guilt hit you.

Of course she had.

Shadowheart had held your hand through so many perils, yet you couldn't help but to feel guilty that she was searching for help when the solution to your problem was right in front of you.

And he kept glaring at you, as if studying your every move.

A soft knock on the front door snapped you from your thoughts, and you went to push it open, revealing the visitor.

No.

No fucking way.

You immediately slammed the door shut, feeling rage swirl inside you.

“Who is it?” Gale asked.

“No one.”

Then your gaze met Astarion's whose eyebrow was arched in confusion.

“That is no way to treat a guest.” The woman outside chirped happily.

Ava.

Next chapter: Broken - November 26

Series Masterlist . I don't keep taglists, so feel to follow this story on Ao3 🩷

#astarion smut #astarion angst #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion scenario #astarion x you #astarion x reader

1K notes · View notes

pugzman3 · 2 months

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Man.........it's almost like....a Supreme Being.....with ultimate knowledge, superior designing capabilities, who could see the end from the beginning, and has total capability to not only, CREATE such a masterpiece of ecological functions, but can also regulate it in order to keep it functioning, to provide what he said he would provide, a habitation for this whole other engineering marvel that he created. Thank you LORD. And this video is just a single example among a multitude of examples.

Look, get mad about all the climate change lies if you want. Get mad at the regulations that are being forced on us in sight of the blatant hypocrisy by those pushing it on us. If that's where you want to plant your flag, have fun.

But some of yall are going to see the bigger picture. This environment worship, mother earth goddess nonsense, the idea that we are "one with nature" and we have to sacrifice everything to save it, this is Pantheism. It is not new by any means, look it up. And to the elites, it isn't about saving the earth, it is about worshipping gods, and not GOD. They are leading the population to THEIR gods, and not Jesus Christ, who by all things were created.

We don't know exactly how they are going to do it, but that isn't what is important. What is important is that you understand they are trying to hide the truth of Jesus Christ to you. That is where you need to get to first. Realize he is the truth and let him in, and you are going to start seeing so much of the deceptions. And it won't matter what they do, or how they do it, because you will be saved and under the blood of Christ.

Have I told you lately that every conspiracy theory goes back to God vs the devil? Because it does.

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wildernessuntothemselves · 8 months

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Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 1

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Not proofread.

"Can I touch your cock?"

"What?" He chokes on his drink, some of it even coming out of his nose, and you pull a disgusted face. Really? Is this the guy you like? You need higher standards.

Still, you like him, drink squirting and all. You shrug, looking down at your own drink and fiddling with it nervously. "Just wanna know what a cock feels like. It’s no big deal." You bluff, hiding behind your inexperience that he knows about all too well.

Beomgyu is quiet for a while, and you start manifesting for the couch you’re sitting on to devour you whole. But finally he speaks up.

"Okay.” He says, and your head snaps up to look at him in disbelief. “If I can touch your pussy too."

You sneer at him as if you hadn’t literally asked him the same thing. "What? No. Pervert!"

"But you just--"

"Forget it." Truth is you were self-conscious about what he’d think if he saw your body. You didn't look like those onlyfans girls you’ve caught him watching many times. What if he finds your pussy weird-looking? God, you would never live that down.

"No, wait, okay, okay." He quickly backtracks, dropping his demand. His eagerness would be laughable if you weren’t just as eager yourself. “You can touch me.”

“Woah, what are you doing?” You cover your eyes with your hands when you see him pull down on his pants.

“Taking my cock out? You know, so you can touch me?”

“Not so fast, idiot. Let’s take it slow.”

He gives you a dumb look. “Slow how? Like kissing?”

Your cheeks flush at the thought, having imagined exactly that too many times, just Beomgyu pulling you into a heated kiss and maybe confessing his undying love for you, and how he’s only been acting so clueless and stupid to hide his true feelings for you…

No, you definitely should not be kissing.

“Forget it. Pull down your pants.” You tell him and he happily obliges, his cock springing out of his pants and smacking against his hoodie, leaving a tiny wet stain on it.

“Well, don’t just stare at it.” He whines when you take too long to make a move, grabbing your hand and moving it to wrap around his cock, moaning out at his own movements.

“Wow, it’s so soft.” You marvel as he moves your hand up and down his shaft, his skin gliding smoothly under your palm.

"Mmm hmmm." He hums and you look up to see him staring straight at you.

"Stop staring at me, you freak." You blush, feeling scrutinized. This was already so nerve-racking for you, you didn’t need him watching you like that.

“Come on, jerk me off properly. I’m doing all the work here.” He whines, pressing down on your hand to make you grab him tighter.

You roll your eyes. He’s such a brat. “Fine.” You smack his hand off and hold him firmly in your grip, trying to imitate the movements of your favorite internet dom and how she gets her sub to go crazy for her. And Beomgyu would be such a cute sub, and he’d make such pretty noises that you definitely didn’t spend your nights fantasizing about with your hand down your pants.

But he’s exceeding even your filthiest fantasies with the moans he’s letting out. He’s so loud and whiny, it’s going straight to your pussy and drenching your underwear.

In an effort to still come out the one in control, you tease him. “How are you so hard already?”

But it’s not effective on Beomgyu. Not when he never had any sense of shame to begin with. “Of course, I’m hard. You’re jerking me off. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was thirteen.”

“You have?” Your pace falters. Is this it? Is this how he confesses to you? Sure, it’s not the most romantic setting but you’ll take it.

“Of course. You know I’ve been trying to get any kind of action for years. Thank you so much. You’re the best.” He babbles, throwing his head back and thrusting up in your hand. You’re glad he did that so he wouldn’t see the absolutely heartbroken look on your face. You’re so stupid. He just wanted someone to touch his crusty dick.

Okay, that’s a lie. He actually has a really pretty dick which is so unfair. You wish it was veiny and gross and standing weird. Maybe then you would’ve gotten over your apparently hopeless crush on him.

"Fuck, you’re really touching my cock." He whimpers, staring at the way his cock is thrusting into your hand, too lost in the pleasure of it to notice your sour mood. “It feels so good.”

“I know. I can see the way you’ve gone all brain-dead just from a few strokes. I don’t even have to do much when you’re practically humping my hand. Are you that desperate?” You talk down to him, needing to release your bitterness somehow, but it only spurs Beomgyu on further.

He nods, jaw hanging open and a little drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth as he stares at you, heavy-lidded. “God, you’re so dirty and mean. I didn’t even know I’m into that.” He groans.

No, what he’s into is cute, feminine girls dressed in skimpy little sundresses whimpering and crying as they get railed by big cocks. It’s why you’ve tried dressing all girly before he pointed out the change in your style and made fun of you for it. You know he didn’t mean it maliciously. It’s just what best friends do, make fun of each other over the stupidest things. But it sure guaranteed you’d never dress like that again.

"Can I cum?"

"Oh, you’re asking permission?" You laugh, happy to at least be having an effect on the man you're in love with, even if it’s just because he’s a desperate perv. "Guess whenever I need to put you in line I should just put my hand down your pants."

"Yes, please."

You giggle. Well if you can’t have him, at least you’ll have this.

“You can cum, gyu.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you!” He moans, and you point his cock towards his hoodie so he’d cum all over it. Just a little petty revenge on him. Not that he even cares, if the dopey smile on his face is any indication.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve said that already, idiot.” You wipe your hand on his hoodie, soiling it further.

“I mean it.”He sits up from his slumped position and grabs your hand as you pull it away. “Let me make it up to you. Let me eat you out.”

You frown at him and yank your hand away. “You just wanna know what pussy tastes like.”

“So? It’s a win-win.” He scrambles to the ground and slots himself between your legs, resting his head on your thighs and peering up at you cutely. “Please.”

You feel one of his thumb swipe under the leg of your shorts and you kick him away. “No!”

But he grabs your leg and whines. “Why?”

“I’m saving it for someone I love.” You admit shyly and he has the audacity to retort, “You know I love you.”

“I know.” You sigh, “But not that way… right?”

“Right.” He admits, finally letting you go and you just want to crawl into yourself and cease to exist. It all hurts too bad. You don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself when he clearly will never feel the same way about you. You really should forget all about this. It’s a mistake. A moment of weakness. That’s all it is.

_______________________________

But you can’t hold on to your convictions when he’s drooling over her like that.

“Seriously, Beomgyu, we’re in the middle of studying.”

He snaps his open mouth shut. “What? I’m not doing anything.” He says defensively and you roll your eyes, reaching up to swipe the drool off the corner of his lips.

“You’re staring at her as if you wanna take her right here inside the library.” You retort, hiding the pain from your voice well.

“So what if I do? She’s so sexy. I could just rip that tight, pink dress off her body. It’s barely even covering it. I can practically see her–oh!” His horny tirade cuts off into a gasp as you grab him through his pants.

“What are you doing?” He looks at you, panicked, but his hips still buck up into your hand. He’s such a horndog.

“Keeping you from jumping her in the middle of a public place.” You sneer, though in reality you just can’t bear him talking about her any longer.

“What about you jerking me off in the middle of a public place?” He counters back and you flush at being called out, moving to pull your hand away but he stops you, his large hand encompassing yours and pressing it against his bulge just like he did that first time.

“Did I mention that I’m totally fine with that?” He asks and you let out a sigh of relief. You can’t handle being rejected by him now. This is the only thing you have going for you–that you’re the only girl getting him off. If he doesn’t want it anymore then you’ve got nothing.

Luckily though, getting his dick touched is still very effective at getting him to stop obsessing over her and just focus on you.

“Go faster.” He prompts, but you don’t give him what he wants that easily. You gotta make him work for it so you don’t feel like you’re that easy.

“I will if you can answer this question.” You point to the next question in the quiz you were solving and he groans. “Who cares? Just need you.” He whines, knowing how weak you are for his puppy dog eyes, but unbeknownst to him, you’re too wounded by his flagrant drooling over another woman for this to work now.

“I care. So either you be good and answer or you don’t get to cum today.”

“You’re so cruel.” He whines, but casts his eyes to the paper, making an effort to figure out the answer, his brows furrowing and his lips pulling in a pout as his pretty brain works overtime to answer the question you wanted.

God, he’s so pretty. And you’re so screwed.

____________________________

“Look, baby, look what I got!” Beomgyu yells, shoving a piece of paper into your face enthusiastically. The writing is swimming in front of your eyes and you’re finding it so hard to focus when he is calling you that–baby–something he’d gotten into the habit of saying since you began messing with him.

Luckily, he’s kind enough to tell you what you’re looking at. “I got an A! I never thought I’d get an A in my life, and it’s all thanks to you!” He squeals, gathering you into his arms and smothering you with a passionate kiss that you’re too weak to resist, getting lost in his soft lips. His soft, sweet lips that you’ve been dreaming about for years–his pouty, full lips that you’ve had to hold yourself back from kissing every time he’d pout–his perfect lips that you promised yourself you’d never kiss because you knew it would be game over for you.

Dam it, Beomgyu!

You shove him away. “I said no kissing!” You bark and he cowers like a scolded dog. “But I did so well. Thought I deserved a reward, and you’re just so kissable.” He tries to get another kiss but you’re prepared for him now.

“Don’t say things like that.” You hiss way too sharply and he winces. “Why not?”

“I don’t like it.” You tell him and he frowns. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

He scoffs. “I know that.”

“We’re just fuck buddies.”

“Not even that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you don’t even let me fuck you. How can we be fuck buddies if you’re freaking out over me just kissing you? You’re treating me like a glorified dildo. Why can’t I touch you too?”

You can’t answer that truthfully or you’ll ruin everything, so you deflect. “If you don’t like it then we can stop. I don’t need this. I can easily find another guy to play with. One who wouldn’t whine about getting free handjobs.”

He gives you a betrayed look, but quickly collects himself. “Fine. You do that. I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” He huffs, storming off and leaving his graded paper behind. You grab it, your chest filling with a sense of pride you can’t keep at bay. You did this. You helped him get an A. And he was so happy about it too. He was so happy he kissed you. It was everything you wanted, which is exactly why you had to stop it.

Yes, it hurts now, but it would’ve hurt a million times more if you let yourself get carried away with it. It’s better to stop it now before it’s too late for you.

_____________________________

A/N: whoever has ideas for future scenes let me know, preferably non-smut scenes because at this point the story is entirely smut lmao

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #sub!idol #dom!reader #sub!beomgyu #sub!gyu #fem!reader

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megalony · 26 days

Text

Get Her Out- Part 2

Here is the second part of my Evan x Reader X Eddie imagine, thank you all for the lovely feedback on the first part. I might do another follow up to this if anyone wants one. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: When a callout goes wrong and a bridge collapses, the whole team is in peril. Including (Y/n) and their unborn baby.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh god."

"(Y/n)?" Hen paused in her administrations, halfway through with strapping the spare harness around Molly when (Y/n) gasped.

"No, no, oh boys…" Terror flooded (Y/n)'s voice as she dug her fingers so tightly into the radio on her shoulder that she almost snapped it in two. She could feel her body beginning to shake and her eyes closed as tightly as she could manage.

She needed the boys. Now.

"Baby what's wrong?" Evan latched his free hand around Eddie's shoulder and held onto him tight, stopping him from trying to get a harness on.

What was happening in that ambulance? Why was (Y/n) beginning to cry?

"I- oh, I think my water broke."

(Y/n) slammed her head back into the wall, trying in vain to stop herself from crying, but she couldn't help it. Tears began to sting in her eyes and soak down her face like she was starting to create a river. This couldn't be happening. Each breath ran away from her until she was gasping and panting, breathing so shallow she was barely taking any oxygen in at all.

Her hands rubbed up and down her thighs but she didn't dare look down at her stomach or her legs. She felt it. She felt her waters breaking, (Y/n) knew that was exactly what she had just felt. And the baby was starting to move again.

She kept her left hand smoothing up and down her damp thigh while her right hand pressed into her abdomen. She tried moving her hand in circles on her stomach to see if it would make her feel any better, but it didn't do anything. She could still feel the baby wriggling around like they were in distress, not knowing what was going on and it made her feel sick.

"Shit! Hen get Molly out, we're coming up for (Y/n) now."

Evan let go of Eddie and looped the harness around his shoulders and his waist. He buckled it tight until his chest ached from the bruises he was going to be littered in tonight. He gave a sharp tug on the rope until Chimney winched it tighter. It had to be tight so if he or Eddie fell in their ascent up the rubble, they wouldn't fall back down and get any more injuries.

"It's too early." (Y/n) panted as tears soaked down her face. She tried looking up from her stomach to look over at Hen, but her friend was just as conflicted.

She was acting captain. Hen knew her duty right now was to get Molly out and to safety so the boys could come in and get (Y/n) out. But all she wanted to do was rush across the ambulance and kneel down in front of her friend and try to assess her. Hen wanted to make sure (Y/n) was alright, she wanted to reassure her and hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay because the team were going to look after her.

They weren't even seven months yet. (Y/n) was barely scraping thirty weeks, this would be extremely premature if she had their baby now. She couldn't go into labour. She was trapped in the ambulance. She was hurt. She was in shock. This wasn't safe for their baby.

"Baby, baby it's okay. You-" Eddie cut himself off and tried to take a deep breath, the harness was making his chest tighter and cutting into his ribs. "You've been crashed about, your water breaking is reasonable right now. It doesn't mean the baby's coming, just that we need you in the hospital. We're coming up to get you now, alright?"

"Okay."

They could hear the panic in her voice. She wanted to listen and believe Eddie but she couldn't. (Y/n) knew her water breaking didn't mean the baby was coming. She had been in an accident, her abdomen and stomach had been crashed about, losing her amniotic fluid was somewhat expected.

But losing that fluid meant the baby wasn't safe. It meant she was going to have this baby premature, whether that was today, tomorrow, next week or next month. She wasn't going to reach full term now no matter what they did.

Why did she come out on this call at all?

Wouldn't it have been better if she was at the station, frantically panicking about her boys in this mess rather than being caught up in the middle of it like this?

If she were back at the station, she would have seen this mess on the news and panicked. She would have gone on the B-shift and come out to the rescue to try and help her team. Helping would of been preferable to being one of the injured who needed to be evacuated out. But the stress of having Eddie and Evan hurt in this situation, and her being back at the station, would that have been something that pushed her body into panic and made her ill too?

"The boys won't be long, (Y/n), you just stay calm. Okay Molly, are you ready?"

Molly brushed her hand against her cheek, wiping away a few stray tears as she nodded.

She felt guilty. She was okay, her broken leg was in a brace, she was laid on the stretcher. If Hen wanted to get (Y/n) out first, Molly could easily wait for them to come back up for her, but she knew they weren't going to do that. Clearly (Y/n)'s partners worked with her and they wanted to get her out. That meant Molly had to be out the way first.

(Y/n) tried to smile as she watched Hen ease Molly out and try to lower her down on the harness, but she didn't feel she could hold a brave face for very long.

None of this mattered anymore. Any what ifs or regrets (Y/n) had didn't matter because this was her situation, this was the mess she was caught up in and she couldn't do anything to change it now.

"Please stay with me," (Y/n) murmured softly as she began to rub her hand across her abdomen again.

She couldn't have the baby now. She couldn't lose them, not when she, Evan and Eddie had been so overjoyed about this baby. (Y/n) couldn't come this far just to lose them now.

She would do anything. She would go on maternity leave early, she would even go on bed rest, something (Y/n) despised when it rendered her useless. (Y/n) would stay on bed rest and take leave from work, she would even stay in the hospital if it kept her and her baby connected and stopped her from having them this early on.

Her body jumped back against the wall and she lifted her eyes from burning into her stomach to look at the side door up ahead of her.

Evan gripped the door and the side of the ambulance, tilting his head forward like his neck had broken. The climb up had aggravated his chest that was aching from how bluntly he had landed on the bonnet of the ambulance earlier. But as he heaved for breath and tried to steady himself, a tired, frightened smile pulled on his llips when he looked across and locked his eyes on his girlfriend.

"We're coming in." Evan kept his harness on but undid the clasp and it felt like he was a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

He lifted himself up and stepped inside, trying to be mindful of the broken equipment laid out around his feet. Needles, medicine viles, oxygen wires and tubes, tongue clamps, scalpals. Anything and everything Evan could think of was scattered around the floor and he had to trample over them all like a heard of elephants.

He could feel Eddie's hand on his shoulder as he hobbled in behind him, trying not to lean too much on Evan but he needed a bit of help. He was wheezing like he smoked sixty a day.

"Alright mi amor, let's take a look at you."

Eddie weaved around from behind Evan and slumped down to his knees on (Y/n)'s right side. He placed his hand down on her thigh and gave a loving squeeze, but he had to hold his breath when he glanced down at her legs. He didn't let the tight-lipped smile fade from his face and he didn't let the overwhelming panic grapple with him.

That was definitely her waters that had broken, and it looked like she had lost more amniotic fluid than he was praying for.

"Okay," He murmured to himself as he braced his left hand on the door behind (Y/n) and leaned over her, trying to look around. He needed to know what equipment they had close to hand that he could use.

But Eddie's eyes darted down to look at (Y/n) and his wheezing turned to light, delicate breaths when he felt her touch. Her fingers skimmed along his cheek before she grazed her fingertips along his jacket and around his harness near his broken, inflamed ribs.

"Are you okay?"

A breathless, croaky laugh left Eddie's lips before he leaned down and pecked her temple.

"I'll live. I don't want you worrying 'bout me, let's focus on you and this little one."

He only had a few broken ribs and he would have some extensive bruising, but other than that, Eddie was fine. He could cope with the pain and discomfort and he didn't want (Y/n) or Evan focusing or worrying about him. All their attention needed to be on keeping (Y/n) calm and making sure she and their baby were okay.

"Buck, find me a stethoscope, would you?" He patted Evan's shoulder before he sank back on his heels, feeling his boots digging uncomfortably into his skin so he could look down at (Y/n).

When his hands moved to undo the buttons on (Y/n)'s shirt, a small, coy smile pulled at her lips and made him relax. She pushed her palms down to the floor to try and sit herself up a bit straighter against the door.

Her eyes followed Eddie's movements as he undid her shirt from the bottom upwards until only a few top buttons were done up to cover her bra. He parted her shirt to the sides to expose her stomach to his prying eyes and when (Y/n) nodded, Eddie carefully pressed his hands against her abdomen. He felt the way her breaths hitched when he applied pressure against the lower part of her stomach so he moved to feel around her sides instead.

The base of his hands pressed around, checking that she didn't have any hernias or internal bleeding that he had to worry about. He paused for a second, keeping his hands pressed down into (Y/n)'s stomach when the baby moved.

"That's good, isn't it? That they're moving?" (Y/n) tried to smile as Evan knelt down on her left with a stethoscope pressed to his ears. He listened to her heart while Eddie kept his hands where they were, even as Evan started to listen to her lungs which were all clear and fine. "Eddie?"

"Babe, what's that face for?" Evan nudged his boyfriend with his elbow, trying to smile, but panic was bundling together in his chest. He wasn't saying anything and that was worrying.

"The head's facing down." Eddie let his thumb swipe across (Y/n)'s stomach for a few seconds before he found the courage to pull his hands away.

At this stage, the baby's head shouldn't be faced down, that should only happen around or after the eight-month mark when (Y/n) was ready to go into labour. This happening now only cemented the fact that her body was trying to push into labour because of the trauma she had been through.

Tears began to pool in (Y/n)'s eyes and she tilted her head back, unable to look at either of the boys. That wasn't fair. Why was her body doing this to her- to their baby?

"Baby we need to get you out of here, do you think you can walk?" Evan tossed the stethoscope somewhere behind him while he moved his hand to rest on (Y/n)'s shoulder. They could still prevent this. They could still do something about this, but they had to be quick and get (Y/n) to the hospital first.

"You'll n-need to put my knee back in place first." She let her head drop onto Evan's shoulder when Eddie turned so his attention was focused on her leg that twitched beside him.

He rolled up her trouser leg so it bunched and stuck over her thigh and his lips pressed into a thin line. He felt the way (Y/n) tensed and pushed back into Evan when Eddie prodded the joint and assessed it. She was lucky it was only popped out and not broken.

"Stay still, mi amor."

(Y/n) snapped her chin down into her chest and screamed when a sickening pop crackled through the air and Eddie popped her joint back into place. Her hands bashed down against the floor and she shuddered against the wall, trying to breathe but all she could do was gasp. Shockwaves coursed through her skin and her heart felt like it had been given an electric surge.

Leaning forward, Evan smothered his lips against the side of her head but when he glanced down, his brows furrowed.

She had a roll of gauze bandaged around her upper left arm that he was leaning against, and it was starting to soak through with blood.

"Evan-"

"Oh baby… fuck, we need to sort this before we get out of here. That's bad." Evan unravelled the gauze that was badly wrapped around her arm before (Y/n) had the chance to argue with him.

"Make it quick." Eddie murmured back while he found a fresh pack of gauze and handed it over to Evan.

His hands moved back to (Y/n)'s thigh and he gave a tight squeeze, kissing her shoulder while Evan focused on her arm.

Evan cleaned the wound hastily, grimacing at how deep it looked and how much agony that must have caused (Y/n). He packed gauze into the wound and soaked it with some saline, pausing to let (Y/n) flinch and try to gather a deep breath to stay still. He then took the fresh bandage from the packet and wound it as tightly around her arm as he could manage, knotting it in place.

If they had more time and equipment, Evan would have tried to clean it better and apply some cream. Hell, he knew Eddie would have done the sutures up himself if they had the time, the right place and less concerns panicking them. But this would have to do for now.

"Okay, let's get you out of here baby."

Reaching down, Evan carefully lifted (Y/n)'s bandaged arm and looped it around the back of his neck while Eddie did the same to her other arm. They curved an arm each around her waist, pinning her between them before they moved into crouching positions.

It was as if they were in a dance, moving to prearranged steps with silent notes playing in the background. As if they had done this a thousand times together.

"One, two, three."

Once she was up, (Y/n) tried to find the right balance and even her weight out, but she couldn't manage it. The ambulance was tilted back at a steep angle, all her body wanted to do was lean back and slouch against the back door. She couldn't apply any weight onto her right leg, all she could do was press the toe of her boot very lightly into the floor. The rest of her weight leaned on her left leg and her upper body slouched back into Evan who silently held her up.

He didn't mind taking her weight for her and holding her up. Hell, he would carry her out of here if she would let him.

(Y/n)'s nails scratched into Eddie's florescent jacket and she winced, hiding her head in his shoulder when the ambulance moved.

All three of them froze, arms tensing and tightening around each other as they waited for the ambulance to settle itself. It was winched to the fire truck up on the crumbling bridge. It couldn't fall, it couldn't go anywhere. But they were the weights inside of the ambulance. If they moved, it was going to disrupt the balance and even if it couldn't fall, the ambulance could still move like a pendulum.

A shudder coursed through (Y/n) from her head down to her toes when a guttural creak groaned through the ambulance.

It wasn't going to hold much longer.

"Single file to the door."

"Alright, hold tight." Eddie moved in front of (Y/n) and moved her hands to his shoulders.

It felt comforting to have her face tucked into the back of his neck, to feel each wobbly, shuddering breath she took. And her fingers digging into his shoulders was a comforting weight and something for Eddie to focus on and distract his mind from his chest pain.

He spread his arms out, using the wall and the stretcher as leverage to climb back up the slope of the ambulance to reach the door.

(Y/n) hopped behind him on her left foot, dragging her right leg behind her like it was a spare part she couldn't move nor control. But she could feel Evan's hands digging into her hips and his torso and chest moulded up against her back. He lifted her hips as easily as if she were a teddy that weighed nothing. He held up her weight and made it easier for her to shuffle along behind Eddie to get to the door.

Once he reached the door, Eddie grabbed the frame with his right hand and carefully reached his left hand up to hold (Y/n)'s wrist.

She knew what he was silently asking. He needed her to lean on the wall instead of him so he could get rigged up to the rope and get her on a harness too.

Evan slammed his right hand out on the wall to keep himself upright but he let his chest mould over (Y/n) when she slumped into the wall. His lips pressed against the back of her head and his left hand stayed clamped down on her hip.

But when (Y/n) slid down and a deep, laboured groan left her lips, Evan felt his eyes zoning in on her and his hand slid round from her hip to cradle her stomach instead.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"Ooh, t-the baby's moving… it hurts."

(Y/n) dug her hands into the wall, letting the sharp edge of the doorway dig into her palm like a knife slicing through her skin. Her burning temple pressed into the cold metal wall and she snapped her eyes closed as tightly as she could manage. Her stomach hurt. It felt like it was tightening and tensing up and the baby was moving. If they were already facing down, (Y/n) feared this meant she might be going into labour, indefinitely.

Eddie snagged the clip and locked it tight onto his harness and he grabbed the other rope and turned around. He buckled the clip onto Evan's harness before he grabbed the spare harness and passed it to Evan. They had to move (Y/n) now.

She stayed as still as she could, propped up against the wall as Evan carefully slipped the harness around her and Eddie buckled her up to a rope.

Her body shivered when Eddie turned to face her and gently peeled her hands off the wall so she was gripping his hands instead. She could feel Evan's hands clamped down on her hips, unable to let go of her, not for one moment.

It felt like the three of them were standing on an iceberg, tilted down towards the sea when they stepped out of the ambulance and onto the slanted mountain of rubble. Gravity was pulling them at an angle and part of (Y/n) wanted to sit down and slide along the rubble if it would be an easier option of getting down.

Her hands moved back to Eddie shoulders when he turned round so he could see where he was going. It was tempting to walk backwards so he could be facing (Y/n), but he had to see where he was walking and find a safe route back down.

"You doing okay?" Evan murmured against the top of her head and (Y/n) nodded, unable to trust her voice to speak right now.

It seemed to take forever for them to get past the ambulance and be that much closer to the ground. (Y/n) took to shuffling her left foot along the ground rather than hopping and her right foot served as a brake, dragging behind her so she didn't move too fast or risk falling into Eddie and causing a domino effect. And Evan was still taking some of her weight so she wasn't fully leaning on her bad knee that was starting to swell up like a balloon.

"Nearly there," Eddie whispered, reaching up to give (Y/n)'s hand a squeeze while his other hand trailed down the side of the van he had been trapped in earlier.

Eddie felt like he was going to be sick the moment his feet were back on steady ground that wasn't about to give way beneath them.

Once he was down, Eddie unclipped his harness and let it pool around his feet before he turned around and moved his hands to (Y/n)'s elbows. He took some of her weight, despite the way his chest was aching and his ribs were starting to pound and throb.

He kept hold of her arms and kept her upright while Evan busied himself undoing her harness and his own.

Taking a step forward, (Y/n) slumped her forehead onto Eddie's shoulder and moved her arms around his neck while his hands found her waist. She didn't want to lean on him or add any more weight or pressure onto him when he was already in agony. She tried to slump her weight down onto her left leg and she didn't bother to lift her head when she heard Hen approach them.

All (Y/n) wanted was to disappear.

"Dispatch are sending more ambulances down here for us… Athena's found Bobby."

"Go, go g-get him." Reaching behind her, (Y/n) flopped her hand around until she grabbed Evan's wrist and gave him a squeeze.

She couldn't go anywhere if they didn't have transport. While they were waiting for an ambulance, Evan might as well go and see if he could help move Bobby because wherever he was, Hen seemed to think he was trapped. Evan could get him out and then come back to her and the whole team could evacuate to the hospital as most of them needed some sort of treatment.

Evan locked eyes with Eddie and once Eddie nodded, he kissed them both and followed after Hen. He wouldn't have Eddie trying to help them, though. Eddie was already injured and any straining or digging through the rubble to find Bobby would aggravate his wounds. And someone needed to stay and look after (Y/n).

"Come on, let's sit down."

Eddie secured his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist, he needed her on his good side because his right side felt more damaged and swollen. He gripped her hip fiercely and pressed his right hand down on his lower chest, stiffling a groan. But the pressure stopped the pulsing, throbbing ache and allowed him to concentrate on taking a deep breath.

Reaching her hand out, (Y/n) pressed her palm down on the slab of concrete that Eddie had guided them towards. She slumped down and tried to take a proper breath and gather her senses. Both her legs stretched out in front of her and she planted her hands down on either side of her hips, holding herself up so she didn't fall backwards.

Her head was spinning and she was sure she was going to throw up in a minute.

When Eddie lowered down to sit next to her, she felt his hand on her thigh and he leaned forward. His elbows perched on his thighs and his head hung low as he rasped each breath, groaning and gasping to try and clear his lungs and gather his energy.

A calming silence settled over the pair and Eddie managed a smile when (Y/n) moved her hand to grip his shoulder. He tried to focus on her touch and listen to the different voices surrounding them. Barking orders, shouting for things to be moved, telling people to get back, the sound of heavy machinery being moved around.

Everything blurred in his ears and fizzled along with his heartbeat that was throbbing beneath his skin like he was a boom box.

But he was brought back to his senses when he felt (Y/n)'s thigh tense beneath his hand. He had been gripping her leg since they sat down, but now he could feel the way her leg pulled up and her boots scraped along the floor like she was trying to find some balance again.

"Baby?"

(Y/n) tried to smile, she tried to keep a calm expression and when the tightening feeling in her stomach started to ease, she relaxed and stopped gripping Eddie's shoulder so tightly. She felt his hand begin to coax up and down her thigh, drawing patterns along her skin to give her something to distract herself with and for him to focus on.

Her nails dug through his jacket when another bolt of pain twinged at her stomach. The sudden intensity had her body jump forward and she doubled over, pressing her stomach down into her thighs. Her eyes snapped closed and her lips parted as a gasp tore from her throat.

"Baby what's wrong?"

"I- oow… oh it hurts…" (Y/n) winced and clamped her lips together, swallowing down another groan as her right palm started to grate and cut into the concrete they were sitting on.

She felt Eddie shift beside her so his right hand was on her lower back and his other hand carefully slipped beneath her shirt to press along her stomach again.

When Eddie's hand retracted from her skin, (Y/n) did her best to open her watering eyes and look up at him, but the panic on his face only made her heart drop down to her stomach like a stone in the sea. She leaned forward and pressed her temple into his shoulder, shuddering as she moved her hand to latch her fingers around his shirt and squeeze tightly.

"Dispatch I need that ambulance. Buck, we gotta go now." Eddie leaned his head down so far his lips were almost touching his radio. But he let go when (Y/n) tremored beside him and gave a sharp tug on his shirt.

"I-is it contractions?"

Her voice was so quiet and laced with fear that it pained Eddie to have to answer her at all. "I think so, mi amor."

A pitiful cry mewled past her lips and she pressed her face down harder into his shoulder until she was almost pushing him down on his back. Eddie couldn't think of anything else it could be. Her waters had broken, the baby was moving down and now she was in pain and having twinges he was sure were contractions.

It looked like they might be having their baby today, after all.

"Okay, it's okay." His hand moved from her stomach to cup the back of her neck and he kissed her head. His lips vanished into her hair and he breathed in her scent, hoping it would help him breathe better whilst his fingers circled up and down her back.

They could hear sirens growing in the distance and Eddie gave her neck a squeeze when he looked across at the shipping container everyone was crowded around. They had found Bobby. They were getting him out. Now they could all go to hospital.

"Buck, now!" Eddie all but growled into the radio when he saw paramedics starting to flood the scene. If he didn't hurry they would be going in the ambulance without him because Eddie needed (Y/n) in the ambulance as soon as possible.

"I'm coming!" He snapped back through the radiowaves, pelting across the uneven, cracked tarmac that was littered with lumps of rock and cement and broken breeze blocks.

He barely reached them just as two paramedics with a gurney between them headed their way. Another set of medics were aiming for the rubble Evan had just left behind. They would get Bobby sorted, and that was their whole team found in one piece.

"Alright, who have we got here?"

(Y/n) didn't look up from Eddie's shoulder. She stayed bundled up into his side, refusing to open her eyes or glance at the medics. All she could do was whimper and sob into his jacket. She didn't want to be here, doing this. She wanted to rewind time and make this day end a whole lot differently.

She felt Evan's hands on her shoulders as he stood beside her and leaned over her like he was desperate to wrap her up in his arms and make everything better.

"(Y/n). Her right knee dislocated but I've set it back in place, and her left arm's gonna need stitches. Her waters have broken and she's starting to have contractions already."

"How far along are you?" The young woman rested her hand on (Y/n)'s knee and crouched in front of her, but all (Y/n) did was move her hand up to grip Evan's wrist.

"She's only twenty-nine weeks." The tremor was evident in Evan's voice and his lips rolled together as he looked down at the medic. She knew as well as they did that this was far too early to be going into labour.

Evan tightened his hands on (Y/n)'s shoulders when she let go of his wrist and pulled off Eddie's shoulder so she could slump forward. Her hands moved to her thighs and he could see her nails digging right through her trousers, but it was the deep, shuddering breath she let out that made him wince. She was having another contraction.

"Let's get you in the ambulance."

The medic took a step back so she could move the gurney closer. She knew better than to try and help (Y/n) up. She had two members of her team with her, she wouldn't want a stranger to help when she had the boys here who clearly weren't going to leave her side.

When Evan moved round to stand at her side, (Y/n) gratefully held her hand up and let him take her hand in a strong grip while his other hand moved to her waist. She felt Eddie's hand on her lower back as Evan pulled her up and watched her wobble, trying to balance on her left foot again and keep her right foot off the floor so no weight was put on her knee.

She shuffled forward as Eddie heaved up to his feet and stood behind her but both men looked at one another with a certain look in their eyes.

They knew what (Y/n) was going to do. She was going to try and walk towards the ambulance. (Y/n) was a firefighter, she was one of them and she wasn't used to being the patient.

"No baby, get on the gurney." Evan took hold of her elbows and carefully turned her around so she was facing him with her back towards the gurney. He didn't give her chance to argue, she wasn't walking anywhere. She couldn't put any weight on her right leg and they needed to be quick, she was getting on that gurney.

(Y/n) tilted her head down until her chin was tucked into her chest and she dug her nails back into her thighs to give herself something to focus on. Her arms shook and tensed and her elbows pinned into her sides as Evan and the other medic aimed the gurney towards the ambulance. And she could feel Eddie's hand on her thigh, while he pinned his other hand to his chest and tried to take steady breaths to ease his own pain.

Evan hopped into the ambulance first, followed by the medic who was wheeling the other end of the gurney. He noticed the other medic round the side of the ambulance and he could hear him climbing into the driver's seat.

His eyes landed on Eddie who braced himself before he dragged himself up but he barely stood up before the woman turned to face him.

"You know we only take two in the back-"

"Then get out." Eddie bit back a little too sharply and quickly than he meant to, but he made his point all the same and he couldn't take the words back once he'd spoken them. He tipped his head back against the wall and groaned, clicking his back into place as he took shallow breaths to stop expanding his chest so much.

He knew the rules. They didn't usually allow more than one family member in the back at one time and they only had two medics in the back when transporting because it was such a small, enclosed space.

"Look, he's a medic, this is our girl and our call. If our bloody ambulance wasn't suspended in mid-air we wouldn't need your transport. Neither one of us is leaving."

If the 118 ambulance wasn't currently out of operation, they would have used that to transport (Y/n) to the hospital. They weren't asking this woman to stay and examine and care for (Y/n). Eddie and Evan were trained for this, (Y/n) would be a lot calmer with just the boys than a random stranger in the back with them. And they would take full responsibility if anything happened or went wrong- which they would make sure it wouldn't.

She gave them a curt nod with pursed lips before she climbed out and slammed the doors shut, enclosing them in the back.

Turning to his right, Eddie rummaged around in one of the drawers and pulled out a wad of gloves, handing some over to Evan so they could both gear up. He shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before he slumped his elbows down on the side of the gurney near (Y/n)'s legs.

"Can I see if you're dilated yet?" Eddie realised a fraction of a second too late that his words sent a wave of panic surging through (Y/n).

A manic look took over her eyes and her hand suddenly deadlocked around Evan's wrist. She didn't want to be dilating. She didn't want to be in labour, having their baby right now. She would lose them.

Fear covered every inch of her face and made her lower lip tremble, but she gave a brisk nod. She pushed her elbows back into the sides of the gurney and tried to sit up straight. Her head tilted back and she stared up at Evan as he leaned over the top of the gurney and bent forwards to kiss her temple.

His fingers feathered up and down her arm as Eddie removed her trousers and underwear.

"C-can't you find some meds in here? Something… God, something to stop the contractions?" (Y/n) swiped her hand beneath her eyes but it didn't stop the tears from flooding down her face. She wanted an injection. She had been to enough midwife appointments and looked after enough pregnant women on calls to know that if they went into early labour, a lot of women could get an injection.

It would ward off contractions and relax her muscles and her womb. It might not work for long and it might not work at all, but (Y/n) needed something to make this stop.

"Mi amor, we don't carry those sort of meds in here… I, fuck. Baby I couldn't give you any even if I had the choice, you're dilating already."

Eddie wasn't used to crying. He had grown up being told he had to be strong, he had to be brave, crying wasn't something he was 'allowed' to do. He was the man of the house when his dad worked away and he was the one who looked after everybody. He couldn't look after anyone if he was sobbing.

But tears welled up in his eyes and slid down the bridge of his nose no matter how hard he fought them off when (Y/n) cried.

"No! No, I can't…" (Y/n) wasn't sure what she was trying to say, but whatever it was, wouldn't pass through her lips. She shook her head until Evan's hand cupped her cheek and his lips smothered her temple in a vain attempt to try and calm her down.

"Shh, shh baby. It's alright, we're gonna take care of you, both of you."

Evan darted his head to the right when Eddie grabbed his arm and gave a sharp tug.

"Switch, I can't breathe leaning down like this." Eddie couldn't stay leaning on the edge of the gurney like this. His side was aching and if he leant on the end near (Y/n)'s feet, he would be applying pressure to the bottom of his ribs and sternum. It would wind him and steal his breath and he couldn't catch enough air as it was.

They needed to switch places. Eddie could catch his breath and comfort (Y/n) if Evan could trade places with him and keep check on her dilation.

Eddie had a horrible, gut feeling that they might not make it to the hospital. The bridge wasn't exactly a short ride from the nearest hospital and even if the ambulance sped through the traffic lights and passed cars with the sirens on, it was going to take a little while to get there.

"I can't do this, it's too early."

(Y/n) tilted her head back on Eddie's shoulder when he slumped on the side of the gurney next to her. He wound his arm around her waist and let her lean on his left side which was now his good side, considering his right ribs were broken.

"I don't think we've got a choice now, baby." Evan pressed a chaste kiss against (Y/n)'s knee before he spun round and tore through the drawers to find what he needed.

"I can't," Her words vibrated through Eddie's neck and had him turning into a shivering mess. Her nose brushed against his skin and he could feel her tears soaking into his skin as he turned his head to press his lips against her burning temple. There was nothing he or Evan could do to stop this.

"Just keep pushing, sweetheart, you're doing so good." Evan swiped a towel and laid it out beneath (Y/n)'s legs. Smothering a groan when his right shoulder slammed into the wall when the ambulance took a sharp right-turn.

Her knees pulled up near her stomach and she was grateful when Eddie held his hand out for her to take and squeeze. She tried not to grip too tightly and give him anymore broken bones and she reeled their entwined hands up to press into her chest for some sense of comfort.

She could feel her thighs quaking and her muscles were burning and stretching from her abdomen all the way down to her calves. (Y/n) wanted to go to sleep. She wanted to rewind time back to this morning and wish she never got up for work. Their baby would be safe and well and looked after if she didn't come into work today.

"Nearly there… push again…" Tears burned down Evan's face and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to smile or frown as he moved the towel to hold their baby.

(Y/n)'s screams cut right through to his core and broke him in half, and when he looked up, he could see her torment was snapping the little bit of resolve and composure that Eddie had left. His lips were against the top of her head and he was squeezing her hand tight, crying freely. Evan hadn't seen his partner cry many times, when he thought back, Evan could only remember two instances when Eddie had cried.

And these were not happy tears.

"Ooh, oh it's a girl."

Evan's hands suddenly started to shake and he worried for a moment he was going to drop the newborn. She barely fit in his hands.

"Eddie, clamps." He shuffled back and retracted his arms towards his chest. He couldn't check her over and assess her and cut the cord at the same time. And Evan couldn't move around the ambulance and grab any equipment he needed if the baby was still attached to the cord.

With a lasting kiss against (Y/n)'s temple, Eddie slid out from behind her and leaned over her thighs. He grabbed both the clamps Evan had got ready and secured them on the cord which he shakily cut. He turned on his side and fumbled around for one of the metal dishes in the back and focused on delivering the placenta. But he kept looking over his shoulder.

"Buck?" He rasped, looking his boyfriend up and down while (Y/n) latched her hand around his shoulder.

"Evan…" (Y/n) couldn't breathe. Her breaths came out in short pants and she started to choke on her cries. Tears were overwhelming her eyes and she could barely see her partners properly.

Turning his head to the side, Evan swiped his eyes against his shoulder to wipe away the tears. He held the newborn in his left arm and cuddled her up to his chest while his shaking hand pressed beneath her chin and over her chest. He could feel a pulse. But she wasn't breathing.

"Come on, please… fuck! She's not taken a breath yet." He started to rub his index and middle fingers up and down her chest but it didn't do much good.

Evan spun to the right and wrenched open at least three drawers in the cabinet until he found the intubation tubes and found the smallest one they had and a syringe. He tore into the packet with his teeth and held one end between his lips while he unravelled the tube to get the other end and threaded it over his shoulder.

He pressed the syringe to her nose and started to squeeze, clearing her airways in case she had any fluids or mucus blocking them. But she didn't begin to breathe when Evan got her airways unblocked.

"Here we go, girlie."

Using his little finger, Evan delicately parted her lips and began to thread the tube past her lips and down into her lungs.

The tube was too small to attach an airbag to and Evan wasn't sure how many breaths to give her. And he didn't want to turn on the oxygen machine and flood her system with pure oxygen just yet. She was so small. Her lungs were going to be underdeveloped. She was going to need a round of steroids to make her lungs expand and grow quicker to keep her going.

He started to puff small, steady breaths through the tube while he went back to applying small circles over her chest to stimulate her into breathing on her own.

When Eddie snapped off his gloves and straightened up, he moved back over to (Y/n). She was sobbing. Her arms were stretched out towards him and he obliged, curving his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. Both their eyes focused on Evan just as the ambulance pulled to a stop.

Evan's wild blue eyes which were almost overtaken by his pupils, locked on Eddie who nodded at his silent question.

"Go!"

That one word flooded Evan's system like a wildfire spreading through his bones and heating up his blood until he was bubbling over.

As soon as the back door opened, Evan lunged. He stormed down the steps and bolted ahead, knowing the medics and Eddie wouldn't be far behind him with (Y/n) in tow. His left arm tightened, cuddling his girl closer to his chest to make sure he wasn't going to drop her and he focused on controlling his breaths so he didn't flood her system with too many harsh breaths.

"Buck? Buck, oh God-"

He stormed past Hen and the stretcher she was helping wheel over which had Bobby seated in the middle.

He couldn't stop and converse, he didn't have the time to explain or show them the newborn in his arms. He powered through the ambulance entrance into the emergency room where a crowd of nurses and doctors were waiting, already alerted of the casualties they were going to be dealing with today.

Evan's eyes lit up just as he stormed inside and he held his breath when he felt his daughter's chest finally expand beneath his touch. The movement was slow and shallow, but it was followed by her arm twitching against his hand. And steadily, she began to wriggle instead of laying limp and in shock in his arm.

He almost spat out the tube and carefully pulled it free from her airways. She would need a proper breathing tube in her lungs rather than this.

The tube dropped down to his feet and he lifted his head just as a doctor stood in front of him. She held panic in her eyes and her arms reached out to check the newborn. Evan could see the shock in her eyes at how small, wrinkled and premature the little baby actually was.

"She's eleven weeks premature, b-but she's got a pulse and I've got her breathing. Mother's following us in now, (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

Evan didn't want to hand her over. It was the last thing he wanted to do in the world, but he couldn't stand here and hold her no matter what his heart was telling him to do. If he stayed and held her, she was going to pass away. She needed to be taken down to the neonatal unit. She had to have her breathing regulated and her chest and lungs checked. She needed to be weighed and cleaned and settled in an incubator so she had a good chance of surviving.

Once she was out of his arms, Evan started to fold in on himself. His arms cocooned to his chest and he leaned forward, trying to take a breath but he couldn't fathom how.

His eyes followed the doctor as she pointed for someone to go to follow her, and the nurse quickly turned to face Evan just as Eddie bolted in with (Y/n). Hen, Bobby and Athena quick to follow in behind them.

"Baby's surname, for the notes and so we can come and find mother when she's settled?"

"Diaz-Buckley."

A shudder coursed through (Y/n)'s veins and had her shaking back and forth on the gurney when she watched the doctor run down the corridor. She was going in the other direction. The two nurses that came over to (Y/n) were now wheeling her straight ahead instead of following after her baby to the left.

"T-they're taking her away," (Y/n) reached out and clamped her fingers down on Evan's wrist, pulling him into her side as she started to cry out.

"No, no t-they're looking after her, baby. She's gonna be okay." Evan let her hold his hand against her chest and when she smothered her face against his arm, he leaned over her and pressed a longing kiss against the top of her head.

Lifting his gaze, Evan stayed doubled over (Y/n) but he locked his eyes on Eddie who groaned quietly. He watched Eddie lean back, one hand pressed tight against his chest while he tried to breathe. All the panic had started to grate on his chest and give him extra agony and pulsing pains. He needed some painkillers to take the edge off and a tight bandage to hold his chest together.

"He needs an X-ray."

"I'm fine."

"Like Hell you are. Go get checked out-"

"Get the Hell off me!" Eddie snapped, shrugging his arm away from the nurse who tried to hold him as if he was going to keel over. "I'll get an exam once the girls are okay. Let's go." He wasn't going anywhere until (Y/n) was on a ward and had been checked over. He needed her to be admitted and seen to first, and then he needed an update on their daughter.

Only then would Eddie let anyone check him over and tend to his wounds. He wasn't leaving either of his partners.

They had a daughter to worry about.

#eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #eddie x reader

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ickadori · 4 months

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I read the borrowed time piece you did and WAS OBSESSED! I am dying to know the fallout of that whole thing. How on earth does Yuji react when he realizes Sukuna just borrowed his body to eat you out? Where do they even go from there? Would you consider writing a follow up piece or even just share your thoughts on what you think would happen next? THANK YOU

-A thirsty follower

i don’t plan on making a part two on that, but if i did, it would more than likely feature both sukuna and yuji, once again.

it would probably start off with yuji apologizing and trying to explain that sukuna had taken over somehow, despite yuji claiming to always have control over him, only for sukuna to interject somewhere in between to correct the story. probably smth like this ~

“I don’t know how he took control, but he did—I tried to stop him, I really did, and I did stop him...just at the wrong time.” The blush on Yuji’s face is concerning, but you can’t think about his wellbeing too much when you’re no better. Your skin feels hot all over, sweat beading at the back of your neck and heart hammering in your chest, and your hands nervously pull and stretch at the end of your sweater.

I should really change, you think. No, you should just kick Yuji out completely and just transfer to the Kyoto school and never show your face around here again. Yeah, you could do that, that’d work.

“Your persistence in painting me as the only fucked up one is really pissing me off, brat.” You nearly squawk at Sukuna’s voice, a red eye focused on you, or more specifically, the glossy sheen that still coats the insides of your thighs. You press them tightly together and glare at him -them-, and a deep, gravelly snicker sounds as a result.

Yuji slaps a hand over his cheek in an attempt to quiet him, an attempt that has failed time and time again in the past, and fails again as he simply makes the hand materialize on the back of Yuji’s palm. “Tell her exactly how I was able to take over - tell her what you were doing.”

“Nothing. I wasn’t doing anything!” There’s a panicked look in his eyes, and you tense when Yuji turns to you, scooting closer to where you’re sat on the couch and leaning into your space. His lips move a mile a minute, and your stomach clenches as you take in the wetness that’s still spread across the bottom half of his face. Oh, God. “—really don’t know how he was—”

“He came to the thought of fucking that tight, sweet cunt so hard that he passed out, and we both know what happened next.” Sukuna grins, Yuji pales, and you blink, trying and failing to ignore the way your panties become even stickier. “Surprised it didn’t happen sooner. The pervert can barely go two seconds without creaming his pants when he’s around you.” You want to call him a hypocrite, a damned nasty one, but you find that your words are stuck in your throat, eyes unconsciously trailing down to marvel at the bulge in Yuji’s pants. It’s big...how is it so big? “Let’s also not forget that you didn’t take control, I gave it to you to shut you up.”

Sukuna gives you an unsettling once over.

“He wouldn’t shut up about wanting to taste you himself - he nearly cried when I got you to come on our tongue. I let him clean up the mess afterwards.” Your mind goes back to the softer, near desperate licks and sucks that had transpired after you came, and your cheeks burn at the reveal that it had been Yuji happily lapping between your thighs and not just Sukuna. “And judging by the way you keep rubbing your thighs together... he’s gonna be cleaning up another pretty soon.”

#++ asks #++ yuji #i dont feel like writing a full fic of them fucking kadfasdk but it would go down something like that!!#sorry to everyone who wants a part 2 #-cries-

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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hi could you please writer a spencer x reader where she finds out she is pregnant and comes to the office to tell spencer but doesn’t want everyone to know just yet??? thanks so much

A/N: I know I don't really write for Spencer that much anymore, but every time I do, it just feels like coming home... oh and i wrote this with the mindset that it was planned and that it finally happened, just fyi

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Um, hi, Y/n,” Spencer blinked, taken aback by your sudden appearance in the busy bullpen, “what are you doing here?”

“Hey,” you bounced nervously on your feet, “can we talk a moment? Alone?” glancing towards the familiar faces around him.

“Alright…”

“You can go up and talk in my office if you want,” the suit-clad man beside him chimed in.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you smiled gratefully, “I promise I won’t keep him too long.”

After the office door shut behind the both of you, Spencer’s co-workers still faintly visible through the slivers in the blinds, he spoke apprehensively, “so, what’s up, honey? What couldn’t wait a few hours before I got home?”

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about there suddenly being a case and you flying off to take care of that, and I think I might have just kinda blinked and now I’m here, with you, because I really wanna tell you this in person, not over the phone, and I don’t think I’d be able to wait till after you get back because I mean, sometimes that’s a lot of days and especially with this it will end up feeling even longer, so-”

“Y/n,” he grabbed both your hands, effectively cutting off your anxious rambles, “breathe a second, okay?” none of what you had blurted out so far had worked at calming his growing nerves, “what is it?”

Looking him in the eye, you then freed one of your hands and dipped it into your deep coat pocket, fishing out a small plastic stick and placing it in his still-open palm, “I kept having this nagging feeling,” you uttered softly as he inspected the item you’d given him, “so then I checked the calendar and noticed that I’m late and so I just went out and bought this and-”

“You’re pregnant?” he marvelled, tearing his eyes away from the test to look at you.

“Y-yeah,” you beamed.

“Oh my god… oh my god! Y/n!” his long arms pulled you into a tight hug, “I-… holy shit,” his giggle vibrated into you.

“I know,” you said just as joyfully as him.

Feeling his lips press messily against your hairline, he uttered, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” your arms tightened around him for but a moment before being disturbed by a knock at the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Hotchner peeked his head through the door, “but Reid, we just got a case.”

“Yeah,” he slowly let go of you, still completely enraptured by the news, “I’ll be right with you.”

“Happy to see that you didn’t pop by just to break his heart, Y/n,” the stoic man joked before you responded giddily.

“Oh, no, actually, Aaron, I just found out that-”

“That, um,” Spencer cut in, nearly slapping his palm over your lips with how hastily he reacted, “we got the house we wanted to move into.”

“Really?” his boss’ dark eyebrow quirked up at the lie, “I didn’t know you guys were moving, you love your apartment so much.”

“Yeah, well,” Spencer shrugged, the smile still plastered to his face, “it’s just feeling a bit small these days…”

#lea’s writing #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid request #pregnant!reader #spencer reid x pregnant!reader

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artists-ally · 6 months

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what about Harvey when he’s jealous? His wife is attending an event at the firm with him, she’s wearing a nice dress and one of his rivals from another firm is oggling her and she dogdes his advances gracefully, but when they get home he’s bending her on the closest surface and chanting “mine” skxmcmdks

{Put it on Me} Harvey x Reader

oh BOY have I been thinking about this tehe. Also, you are my soul source of Harvey inspiration pls pls pls keep the requests coming. I have such a hard time coming up with ideas on my on so getting to create something specific really helps. Enjoy loves!!! title from this song

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: jealousy, minor dom/sub concepts, unprotected sex, flirty banter, Harvey being a possessive mf.

~~~~~~~

As I stepped around the corner of the hallway, Harvey was leaning against the kitchen island, hands braced on the counter, gaze very much pinned on my silhouette.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, gesturing to the gown I had picked out over the weekend. “I thought the green would match well with yours.”

Harvey’s eyes melted over my frame, scanning every inch as he just stood. Watching. “You… Yn, you look breathtaking. What do you say we skip the firm announcement and just stay in?”

I laughed, the sound of my heels echoing off the walls. “As much as that sounds like a great idea, we can’t exactly snub off the announcement of a merger.”

“You just have to be the buzzkill don’t you?” Harvey smiled, planting his hands on my hips. “I should have you locked up for how good you look.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to convince a jury I’ve committed a crime, not if I bat my lashes and give them that flirty smile that sent you crawling to the floor.”

His eyes narrowed, backing me against the island in a firm spin. “Let’s not forget who can make those same lashes flutter shut, either.”

Bastard.

Harvey was dressed well– he always was. Terribly and insufferably great at finding the perfect suit. It was a three piece; the vest and jacket were black, but he wore this green tie that went with my dress. He said that since this would be the first event we attended together as a married couple, he wanted everyone to know.

Endearing, and mildly possessive.

I loved it when he was possessive.

“Okay, Maverick, let’s get to the flightdeck before we run out of fuel,” I patted his chest, grabbing my clutch and slipping in my earrings.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when you make Top Gun references?”

“Almost as many times as you’ve told me how much you love when I’m on my knees,” I whispered in his ear before heading to the door.

Harvey landed a firm smack on my ass, sending laughter tumbling out of me before we kissed and headed down to the limo waiting for us.

I looked up and out of the window, taking in the views of the towering skyscrapers. The venu was gorgeous; all sleek marble and intricate architecture. Who knew such a place existed in New York.

When we arrived, Harvey stepped out first, taking my hand and guiding me out. I clutched his bicep as we ascended the stairs, greeting the security guard in front of the glass doors.

“Ahh, Mr. and Mrs. Specter,” the guard greeted. “Welcome. Ms. Pearson and Mr. Litt is waiting for you inside, as well as the other guests.”

Harvey gave me a nod, and I gave him one back. “Thank you, sir.”

He opened the door for us, and the inside was just as meticulously crafted as the outside. It was stunning, truly stunning. They don’t make buildings like this anymore, and that makes me a little sad.

“Yn!” Donna called out, several heads turning in our direction. “Oh my god you look amazing!”

“I couldn’t say anything less about you, Donna. You look so good, that royal blue makes your hair look so awesome,” I smiled pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you too, Jessica. You look marvelous.”

“Thank you, Yn,” she smiled, accepting my hug. “Don’t you clean up nice, Harvey.”

He rolled his eyes, snagging a flute of champagne from a waiter on their way by. “I’ve been known to clean up every now and then.”

Conversation flowed easily between the small cluster I’ve been encompassed with. It is so nice to have such a tight knit group of people to not only call my friends, but my family. When Harvey first brought me around them, it had just been after a huge win against a firm enemy. Daniel Hardman, who I’ve come to know the full story about, had his ass handed to him. Afterwards, Harvey was far too proud to keep his mouth shut about us and insisted I needed to be a part of the celebration.

Donna was the first to meet me, and we shared one look and knew we were gonna be best friends. We made an incredible team. Especially when we teamed up against Harvey together.

Jessica was polite, but not nearly as friendly as Donna or Louis. Mike was nice, and so was Rachel, but they were too love struck, always off in their own little bubble.

Cuties.

Dinner was served just before eight and we dined, exchanging stories left and right. I got to hear about his days at the firm from their perspective, to which I get to tell them from mine. Wildly different, might I add.

The food was rich and decadent; a choice between a filet mignon or a salmon steak. I went with the filet mignon, it looked too good to pass up. Apparently everyone else agreed because our plates all looked identical when they came out.

More champagne and a belly full of great food later, Harvey and I found ourselves at the bar, ordering drinks for ourselves. Sure Harvey enjoyed the company of his co-workers, but even he needed a break from the people he saw every day. And so did I.

“If she comes back, order me an old fashioned for me my love?” Harvey said, kissing the back of my hand. “I just saw one of our investors walk in. I want to make sure he keeps investing.”

“I’ll make sure she puts in an extra cherry for you,” I winked, letting his lips fall onto mine.

“God I love you.”

With a lingering touch, he was off across the room, that classic Harvey Specter saunter to his gait. He looked so confident, so proud of all the work he had accomplished in his career. And he should be. Harvey has built an empire here in New York and has done more than earn his reputation.

It baffled me that underneath that ‘tough as nails’ attitude, was just someone who wanted to be loved and cherished as much as I had. I love Harvey, with every bit of my soul. He was so deserving of someone who truly loved him and not the amount of zeros in his bank account.

When we first met, I hadn’t known who he was, and he liked that very much. He told me he was a lawyer, a good one, but never specified which didn’t bother me really at all. It was complicated for a long while, but eventually I wore him down and he opened up. There weren’t any details of his life he didn’t share once that wall was broken down. When I met Donna for the first time, she thanked me for it. She said that I pulled that child-like behavior out of him and made him fall in love with being a lawyer all over again.

That made my heart swell with pride.

A gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me out of my memory of Harvey, and I met a pair of tempest blue eyes.

“Oh, hello,” I gave a polite smile, turning to face the man.

“Hello to you, too,” he smiled, eyes darting around my face. “I’m Travis.”

“Yn,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

“You know,” he rubbed his fingers over his chin, “Most people tend to just wear an outfit, but clearly you are going the extra mile by capturing everyone’s attention by simply sitting here.”

I hit my smile, “Well, that is kind of you to say.”

“And the earrings, they really bring the whole thing together. Did you do your hair yourself?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed, rather enthusiastically. “It looks a lot more complicated than it was. It genuinely only took me five or six minutes to do but it looks incredible, right?”

I swiveled in the bar stool, turning the back of my head to him. He blew out a low whistle and gave a light applause, “It looks amazing.”

“Are you here from the merger?” I asked, not recognizing this Tanner fellow.

“Oh, no I am merely here as a… a guest.” His eye had this glint to it when he took a sip of his clear drink. I could smell the vodka from here.

“Me too,” I said, turning my attention to the space around us. “Isn’t this place so cool? I love all the columns and pillars and- oh! Excuse me, can I get an old fashioned? With an extra cherry in it?”

“Of course,” the bartender nodded, walking away to start mixing the drink.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for whiskey kinda girl,” Travis said, resting his elbows on the counter beside me.

“Oh, I’m not it’s for-”

“Tanner.” Harvey’s voice slithered down my spine. He sounded so… so repulsed.

“Harvey,” Travis pushed to his full height. “Nice to see you here-”

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your name is Tanner?” I asked. Why would he lie to me?

“No, no my name is Travis. Tanner is my last name.”

“She doesn’t give a shit about what your last name is. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Woah, calm down Harvey. I’m just talking with this beautiful lady, no need to twist your panties. I was here first, you don’t get to swoop in here and steal my conversation,” Travis frowned, setting the glass down rather harshly on the counter.

“Hey Yn, isn’t that an 8 carat diamond?” Harvey stood directly behind me, sliding his fingers down my left arm, grabbing my wrist and facing it towards Travis.

“Uhh, yeah what’s going-”

“That's right, it is. Funny how I knew that, isn’t it Tanner? Well, that’s because I bought it for her. So how about you get the hell out of here and if I ever catch you trying to flirt with my wife again I will put you six feet in the fucking dirt, do you understand me?”

My eyes damn near fell out of my fucking skull. I knew Travis was being polite, or flirting I guess, but I wasn’t going to let anything come of it, of course.

Travis looked like he was going to be sick. He scurried off, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Harvey dropped my hand and reached around me to grab his freshly crafted drink.

“Okay, hotshot, what was that all about?”

“Do you remember that shit-show of a case that we fought a few months ago, the one that got reopened after four years?” I nodded. “Yeah, that was him. And that's the asshole who tried to have me disbarred.”

Holy shit. “Oh, fuck Harvey. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he smiled faintly. “There’s no other reason he’s here tonight other than to piss me off.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” I said, standing up and taking his face in my hands. “Would you like to passionately make out in front of all these people just to make Travis Tanner mad?”

“Yes, yes I would like that very much,” Harvey grinned, linking his arm around my wait and pressing me close before sending a shiver down my spine with the force of his lips on mine.

“That guy is an asshole,” I said, needing a moment to catch my breath. Surely that did the trick, Travis was nowhere in sight. “You shouldn’t trust anyone with two first names, it’s weird.”

Harvey bellowed out a laugh, nodding his head over his shoulder. I could tell he wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t let him slink off without saying proper goodbyes to everyone that was worth an explanation as to where we fled to.

Donna didn’t need to see us leave, because I had a text on my phone with a bunch of eggplant and peace emoji’s with an accompanying message that said ‘GONNA BE SOME GOOD D TONIGHT GIRL’. She must’ve seen the whole interaction between Travis, Harvey and I.

All I sent back was a winky face.

By the time we got off the elevator, Harvey couldn’t keep his hands off of me. Not that I wanted him to, but we hadn’t even made it outside before his tongue was sweeping inside my mouth.

We pressed to the front door while jammed in the key, effortlessly unlocking it like he had done it a thousand times before. We crashed through, and Harvey wasted no time pinning me to the door.

“Mmm Harvey,” I whined into his mouth.

“Yes, pretty girl?” God damn did I love when he calls me that. “What do you need?”

“You, just you,” I looked at him through my lashes, watching that evil smirk wash over his features. Nothing could have stopped his hand clamping around my throat, pulling me off the door and into the kitchen. He hoisted me up onto the island and began to strip.

Harvey tossed his jacket onto the counter behind him, the tie was next. He made it painfully slow, doing nothing to hide his intentions of making it agonizing for me. I rolled my eyes, hands finding the buttons on his vest, flinging it over my shoulder.

“Needy,” he gripped my chin, crushing his mouth with mine. For a few minutes, or hours, we drank each other in. Restless hands and desperate pleas of need. Silk wrapped around my wrists, tight and commanding. I looked down and saw his tie around them, knotted in a figure eight and yanked until it burned.

“Harvey-”

“You’re mine. All. Mine. No one else has the right to do so much as think otherwise.” My core rippled with heat, eyes lulling shut at his words. “Aww, you like hearing that, don’t you? That I get to see you like this? All tied up? Such a pretty girl, Yn. I bet you’re such a mess for me already.”

He grabbed the fabric around my wrists and pulled me off the counter, flipping me over and forcing me to bend over. Harvey fisted up the hem of my skirt, quite literally tearing my thong off my hips.

I went to yell at him, but his finger dragged between my legs, and my spine shivered. “Fuck, Harvey…”

“You are a mess for me,” I could hear the possession in his voice. “Mmm, and you taste so sweet, Yn.”

I heard his fly unzip, the clang of his belt following after. My toes barely touched the ground as my forearms pressed against my ribs. I tried to scramble up a little so my hips fit with the edge of the counter, but Harvey just gripped the back of my hair and pulled me up.

He clicked his tongue, “Oh Yn, such a pretty thing you are. And I am going to have my way with you, and you’re gonna scream my name for the whole city to hear.”

I clenched my thighs together, pressing my forehead against the cool surface, though it quickly warmed with my breathing and panting. I felt the tip of his cock press against me, and his hips slowly met mine.

He pushed me further onto the counter, thankfully letting go of my hair before he pulled out.

Harvey’s hands on my hips were brutal; bruising my skin, commanding, feverish as they roamed my ass and thighs. Clawing marks.

“God Yn…” he sighed out, thrusting all the way back in, pulling my hips all the way flush with his. “Fuck you are so warm. So perfect for my cock.”

“Please,” I begged, wiggling my ass to entice him further.

“Please what, pretty girl? Come one, use your words.”

I shuddered around him, and he laughed at me. A cruel, wicked laugh as he stuffed himself further.

“Harder, I want- need it harder.”

“That’s my girl,” Harvey landed his palm on my ass, undoubtedly turning it bright red as he did it again. With one snap of his hips, and I knew I was gonna be ripped apart.

I didn’t know that much about Travis Tanner, but judging by the way this was going, Harvey really fucking hated the guy. If Harvey had any other enemies, maybe I should let them all flirt with me if it has the chance of turning into this.

My chest rammed across the counter, my thighs and pelvic bone rocking into the side of the island. It hurt, fuck did it hurt, but it made it so much better. Harvey’s brutal pace had him panting and groaning, cursing under his breath while he fisted his hand back in my hair.

I craned up, back aching with the force of his unyielding grip. It was hard to breathe, in the most soul fluttering way possible. It was such a euphoric feeling to be under his complete control.

“Yeah, you love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy? Submitting to my every decision?”

“Yes Harvey,” I whimpered. Full on whimpered. “Fuck-”

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl, let it all out for me to hear.”

He threw my head down, hair swinging around my shoulders and falling in my face. I let my head go limp, moans pouring out of my mouth. His hips slammed into mine, brutal and ruthless. Every inch of my body was on fire, veins pumping blood widely through my limbs, making them tingle. My toes curled, knees knocking into the wood paneling over and over and over.

I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything, to get him to slow his pace. I writhed and cried out his name. I could hear it echo off the walls, and I knew our neighbors would be taping a complaint to our door by the morning.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum,” he threw his head back, hips stuttering as he held on to my waist. “Fuck, Yn you are so fucking messy for me. Gonna fill you up.”

I squirmed when his finger brushed against my clit, chills spreading all down my arms and back. I felt tears prick my eyes. I hadn’t even realized how close I actually was to my release, and it slammed into me without any hint of a warning.

“Yeah, that's it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock,” Harvey’s voice was like a sin. Pure, raw, unfiltered sin.

His fingers circled and circled around, lighting my body and dragging out the waves of pleasure that rolled through me.

Harvey let out a string of curses, and his hips stilled. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down onto him, hips ramming in once-twice-three-four times before he stilled. He bent over me, heaving for a breath against the middle of my back.

I called his name several times, unable to keep still. My hands were going numb from the bindings, and my knees and hips ached.

With a big inhale, Harvey lifted off my body. His hands trailed all the way down my back to my exposed ass, pulling it apart. “Well, would you look at that. So messy, full of me…”

My pussy clenched around him, and I felt his release slide down the inside of my thigh. His finger dragged his back up and speared it into my skin.

“That’s right, pretty girl, you’re all mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m yours Harvey, all yours,” I plead, wallowing in the feeling of pure bliss. His hands were much more gentle this time around when he lowered me back to the ground.

That mouth of his most certainly wasn’t. Harvey forced his tongue in, practically shoving it down my throat. I choked, and he grinned like the devil.

“Yeah, that’s right, Yn. You’re all mine. All fucking mine.”

I stared up at him in a starry daze. My head was foggy, and my legs were weak. “God do I love it when you get like this.”

Harvey’s hand caressed my cheek, thumb sweeping under my eye to where I’m sure my makeup was smudged.

“And god do I love it when you let me worship you, fucking you exactly like you deserve to be. No one else could ever fuck you as good as I can. Right, pretty girl?”

I grinned, equally as devilish as him, “Right, Harvey.”

~~~~~

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harrygoeswest · 1 year

Text

Infatuation On A Mutual Level

You and Harry are housemates and are both secretly quite fond of one another.

A/N: Woooo she’s here!!! I loved writing this one shot a lot and I really hope it shows. I haven’t had motivation to write for ages and this year I’ve really come back to it and I’m so happy. I hope you all love it as much as I do. She’s special to me. Special mention to the only person who ever wants to read for me @all-things-fic <3 Please come tell me what you think afterwards!! Katie x

Trigger Warnings: sexual content, brief mentions of loss, nightmares

Word Count: 18,777

~.~.~.~.~

Now

Every morning was the same.

The creak from the only bed on the first floor began the day. Then the gush of the tap in the shared bathroom. The kettle in the kitchen on the ground floor. The door closing when George left for the day. Then again 15 minutes later when Rhys did. Abbie starting the shower immediately afterwards now her boyfriend was gone. And then the only thing that ever made your skin prickle:

Harry’s door opening.

Every morning you would roll over at the sound, away from it. God forbid the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ ever pinned you with that warm, green-eyed stare first thing in the morning through the open gap of your own bedroom door. No, you might never be able to survive such a thing.

Living in a shared house was hard. Not least because you felt responsible for the place itself; owned by your single dad who would do anything to bring in what income he could, including taking more rent off his eldest child than he’d like. An argument arose regularly over your living situation but it was hard enough filling the fourth bedroom with a tenant. Living in the third was the least you felt you could do. The building was in dire need of some TLC but it wasn’t exactly an affordable fete. Sometimes the ceiling leaked on the second floor when it rained thanks to some shabby scaffolding work a few years back; the main reason why it was so hard to let the fourth bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to.

It was also hard in a house share because people were messy and you had a horrendous phobia of general mess. If you could quit your job and play full-time housekeeper you absolutely would. But your dad wouldn’t allow that. “Not in my lifetime,” He’d say with the gentlest scowl.

But the hardest part, by far, was being in such close proximity to the man who rented the bedroom across the hall. You weren’t sure why you were so terrified of him. Scarred by your original encounter with him, perhaps, but he wasn’t actually scary. He was, rather annoyingly, the nicest person in the house. Constantly aloof, yes, but still the poster boy for gentlemen everywhere.

Maybe if you spoke to him you’d learn he’s just a normal bloke, your inner voice trilled.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed into your pillow.

You waited for the inevitable sputter of the shower starting up again, and then rolled out of bed, threw on the clothes you’d hung up on the wardrobe door the night before - clean white shirt and grey trousers, ironed within an inch of their life - and scurried downstairs to arrange your usual to-go breakfast. Coffee in a reusable cup and a cereal bar. Hair and makeup could be fixed at work. You were always thirty minutes early anyway.

Harry wasn’t sure how you managed it. How every day you managed to evade him to avoid a puffy-eyed “good morning” or a potentially awkward conversation over breakfast.

As he stood in the hallway between your bedrooms towelling his hair dry in nothing but a pair of boxers and a damp t-shirt, he stared into your bedroom and marvelled yet again at how you seemed to have managed to keep it tidied to a borderline compulsive degree.

A large king bed sat against the left wall with ironed white linens and a plush sunflower yellow throw draped across the foot. One lone bedside table tucked against the right side with a tasselled muted green 60s velvet lamp and a book resting atop. A picture hung above the headboard - some vibrant canvas of abstract art. Every morning he wondered if you’d painted it yourself. Against the opposite wall stood a tall regal-looking cherrywood wardrobe next to a matching dresser with a sleek TV on top. It was the most modern thing about the room. In the window overlooking the garden a dream catcher hung in the dead centre. It was the only nicknack you seemed to have, and part of him hated that it seemed like something negative. Something to catch nightmares, to ward off evil.

Did you have bad dreams? And if so, why?

As always, the window had been opened two inches to let in fresh air. You never closed your door, not even at night. You never had clothes left out. Clutter didn’t exist in your vocabulary. Dust wasn’t permitted in your room. Or the bathroom, or kitchen, or living room, he’d deduced. You took Wednesdays off in the week and cleaned when no one else was home to bother you. He doubted the others had picked up on these things about you, but he’d noticed.

Harry had noticed a lot about you.

Especially that in the mornings, you waited until he took his bathroom time to get ready for work and leave without having to run into him. Some chaotic part of him wanted to change his routine so you’d have to. He wanted to know what you looked like straight out of bed with puffy eyes and linen marks on your cheeks and hair in disarray. The other part of him, the gentleman, told him not to. Who knew what might happen if he threw your routine off kilter.

Distress, probably?

No. He wouldn’t be having that.

Shaking his head, he wandered into his own room and shut the door behind him. One day the puzzle of you would finally form a complete picture. Today, he settled for the tethered, jumbled segments he’d managed to collect this far.

You stared at your phone, face a picture of bewilderment. Deciphering text messages from the housemates was starting to get increasingly difficult, no thanks to the fact that you were shit at it and everyone else seemed to excel.

Blackpool Tower

🌚 👰🏼❌🧽🍽️🔄

🌝 🙈🖕🏼

👰🏼 😕

Translation: Abbie George didn’t wash his dishes again.

Rhys Oh for fuck’s sake.

George Whoops.

You were on a roll with the emojis. It had started as a joke because George had said he hated people who only used emojis to text each other rather than actual words, so for a week the four of you had sent every text using only emojis. Then it had turned into a bet: how long could all of you go without using words, and who would be the first one to crack. You all knew that, without a doubt, Rhys would crack first, even though he was the one who’d proposed the bet in the first place. It had been two weeks and no one had cracked yet.

🍉 🤔👰🏼🥄🥄🍱🔄

👰🏼 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😠

🌝 😒🙄

🌚 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

👑 ❌❌❌❌❌❌❌

Translation:

Harry Maybe George should cook dinner again…

George HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no.

Rhys Yeah right.

Abbie No thank you.

You Absolutely fucking not.

Why did all of you have such ridiculous headers?

Abbie and Rhys were the twin moons because that was the look they always gave each other when they thought something was cute, funny, interesting, or otherwise. They’d moved into the house as a couple and had remained in said couple for 3 years. Sharing a room was their way of saving money to buy a house. It made sense.

George was a blonde bride because he was the most outwardly gay man any of you had ever known and often acted like an utter madam. Madam was actually George’s nickname to his friends now thanks to the house’s light ribbing. He had also chosen his own emoji.

Harry was the watermelon because we were never without it thanks to a frankly concerning obsession. If there wasn’t a watermelon in the fridge, or slices, or packaged chunks, something was very wrong.

And you were the crown because you’d refused to pick an emoji and the house had affectionately bestowed the title of Tower Queen to you. You’d pretended to hate it, but they all knew you viewed it as the highest compliment.

Oh, and the group chat was called Blackpool Tower because you lived together in a tall, two-rooms-to-a-floor townhouse at the top of town. The Eiffel Tower had been suggested but George immediately pointed out that we were not a classy enough bunch to live in such a fine establishment. I’d told him to speak for himself.

The talk of food made you hungry, and it hit you like a landslide that you hadn’t had any dinner. You rolled off your bed and sent a text to Blackpool Tower, then shoved your phone away.

Multiple things happened at once. The shower turned on in the bathroom; your bedroom door opened with a quiet creak (which would not happen again since you went through WD40 like a bee in pollen); Harry’s phone vibrated with another text.

Blackpool Tower

👑 👩‍🍳🍝 … 🌚🍝🌝🍝🍉🍝➡️🧊 … ❌🍝👰🏼

Harry snickered.

Translation: You Making dinner. Leftovers in the fridge. None for George.

It wasn’t unusual you’d make enough food for everyone. Harry had learned that you’d picked that trait up from your dad. Sometimes no one would stop you, especially since there was never anything wrong with a meal you’d cooked. In fact, if there were a restaurant with food cooked by you, Harry would dine there every night. But he also knew that letting you cook for all the other housemates all the time wasn’t fair.

🌚 🍉➡️🍉❌🍉➡️🍉❌👑

👰🏼 🚫🚫🚫🚫

“For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.

Rhys must have been in the shower. If George or Abbie were home they’d have rugby tackled you to the floor given the chance.

Harry abandoned his phone and lurched out of his room, down the stairs to the kitchen. He nearly stacked it twice but he made it, with panting breaths to accompany him.

You turned your gaze on him with a startled look, giving him a once over. “What are you doing…?”

“Don’t you dare cook for everyone else.”

You blinked twice and then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine - I’ve got plenty.”

“It’s not fair.”

“If I don’t cook it today it’ll go off. So might as well.”

Harry looked at the produce you’d piled on the counter and back at you, then back again. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You bought enough for everyone.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest.

You spluttered and scoffed for far too long. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t stop me.” You scowled at him.

It was the most emotions he’d ever seen on you. If he’d known all this time that all he needed to do to get a conversation out of you was wind you up a bit, he’d have done it much sooner.

“Yes I can.”

You put a hand on your hip. Christ. “How?”

He stared at you, statuesque and cursing himself for challenging a bet he couldn’t win. You were right. How would he stop you? He wasn’t going to drag you away from the kitchen and up the stairs without your permission. Hell, he didn’t want to do anything without your permission, threats begotten. He hadn’t thought this through.

You let out a breath, a mocking one, and turned away from him and picked up a knife to start chopping. “Didn’t think so.”

“You can’t do this forever.”

Chop.

“Do what?” You challenged, refusing to look at him again.

Chop chop.

“Look after every person that comes in here because you feel like you owe people something. The world will take advantage of you. Is that what you want?”

Your shoulders visibly tensed over the words that tumbled out of his mouth. They weren’t even spoken with malice. They were soft and cautious.

CHOP.

“This feels like a very deep conversation to be having on a Tuesday evening.”

He growled, frustrated. “Stop babying everyone.”

Chopchopchop.

“If they didn’t want me to baby them they simply wouldn’t let me. And maybe I like babying people. Sometimes it’s nice to have a responsibility.”

“That’s just it, though. They’re not your responsibility.”

You smacked the knife down on the chopping board and turned to face him, an unfamiliar anger in your eyes that muddled with something else murky and grey. Hurt. “Will you just let me cook my fucking dinner in peace?”

Harry stood, tense, staring at you with his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he said, “Fine. But you’ve got to let me help you.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Harry.” Your head lolled back.

“Two different people, but I appreciate why you might get confused.”

You stared at him for an indecipherable length of time. Or gawked might have been a better descriptor. And then you snatched the tea towel off the side and smacked it in a whip-like movement against his arm. “Git.”

Two weeks later and you and Harry had begun a sort of ritual; you would cook with each other every other night. The distinct difference was that when you bought food, you bought enough for everyone. When Harry did it he only bought enough for the two of you.

You hadn’t quite figured out yet if being in this new… friendship with Harry was better or worse. Cooking together four nights a week versus blissful ignorance towards him and his attractiveness? The now near-constant proximity to him was making your head spin for stupid reasons. Namely said attractiveness.

His biceps for one. No one should be allowed arms that had the ability to make one’s mouth water. Pair his strong muscles with the litter of tattoos that were drawn down his right arm and you’d found yourself sweating even on the coldest day. A man’s body should not have such a strong effect on a person, yet here you were - a swoon personified.

Then there was his face, which was worse. Eyes mouth jaw. Those three things individually on a man were the first thing that always drew you in, but Harry had a triple threat. Seaglass green, blush pink and the perfect 100 degree angle. Not too square. And to top it all off, a wispy mop of chestnut waves atop his big head.

The perfect man?

“Aye,” Harry took the knife off you before you started chopping an onion, “thought we established that needed sharpening. A blunt knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.”

A man who cared about your wellbeing?

His bedside manner could use some work.

“Fuck off.” You whispered to your inner voice.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, cheeks burning. Great, he probably thought you were crazy.

You silently passed Harry the stone out of the drawer. He could sharpen it if he was going to make such a big deal out of it.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, and started swiping the edge of the knife along the full length of the stone.

Chalky noises. Sharp noises. Furrowed brow. Biceps flexing. Obscenely attractive. Abort abort abort.

You busied yourself by turning on the hob and drizzling oil into a pan. Basically looking anywhere but at Harry and his arms. Sexy arms.

Sex on legs.

Your legs were wobbling. A flame of burdened heat licked its way between your thighs and you had to lean against the counter to stop from buckling. It had been a long time since a man had touched you.

Yeah. This was worse. Definitely worse. Hyper-awareness of everything going on around you wasn’t unusual, but being hyper-aware of everything Harry did was like some unfound form of torture. There was being attracted to someone and then there was whatever this situation was.

Ridiculous?

It was ridiculous, but at least you could suffer knowing that your inner voice had been wrong. Harry was not a normal bloke. He was some kind of enigma.

For the past couple of nights Harry had kept his door open. He’d learned that you did indeed have nightmares regularly so the dreamcatcher you kept in your bedroom window was doing little for your unconscious mind. He’d debated buying a bigger one for you but wasn’t entirely sure how appropriate that would be.

You weren’t loud. In fact, if he hadn’t kept his door open he never would’ve known, because the ajar-ness of his door had come prompted for completely different reasons - that unusual urge to see you first thing in the morning. Now two nights in a row he had been woken up by your little yelp, followed with a hissed string of curses while shifting around your bedsheets to get comfortable again. As soon as he knew you were asleep, he wasn’t too far along after you.

He still hadn’t been able to decide if cooking with you nearly every night was a good thing or a bad thing. While he never failed to enjoy himself during your bi-nightly kitchen sessions, he hated separating from you afterwards. It wasn’t enough. The persistent nearness of you for an hour or so only to be followed by a later severance was almost painful. The bedroom door being left open was just another attempt at trying to get closer to you.

He knew it was you in the bathroom because you took longer than everyone else. Not because you were using up all the hot water but because you used it as an excuse to give it a thorough clean. Being able to hear everything going on in the house was both a gift and a curse, but Harry wasn’t attuned to all the tenants. Only you.

Five minutes later the bathroom door opened, and you plodded up the two flights of stairs. He knew the way all the stairs creaked, and you were going at nothing more than a leisurely pace. He caught a glimpse of you as you passed, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The scent of strawberries and jasmine wafted through the gap in his door after you.

Harry’s phone vibrated.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 Friends coming over tomorrow night for drinks 🍻 we’ll behave

👰🏼 You idiot

🌚 RHYS

🌝 NOOOOOOOOOO

🍉 Pay up dipshit

🌝 😭😭😭

A few minutes later Harry got a notification to say he’d received a £10 payment into his bank account.

Then

The cold had crept in again. Not from the weather - it was warm at night. This was a different kind of cold. The sweaty kind that kept you up at night. Medication had kept the nightmares away for some time but now you were locked in the house for the foreseeable future you couldn’t bear the idea of being constantly dimmed down by it in front of your housemates.

Last night was the first time you’d had a nightmare in close to a year and it was just as terrifying as it used to be. Some traumas just wouldn’t leave you be. You’d taken a couple of painkillers to numb your headache and they’d graciously knocked you out for another few hours and brought you right on through to 8am. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept that late. With everyone at home all the time now, it seemed no one wanted to get out of bed.

You had a job to do today, anyway. The room next to yours had finally been rented, so you’d been tasked with giving it a proper clean before the new tenant arrived this evening.

You did need to eat, but before that you wanted to get the window open in there to coax some fresh air in.

Hauling yourself out of bed, you meticulously tidied your room the same you did with every morning, dressed in clothes appropriate for cleaning, and took the short step across the hall to the other room.

The door was closed which was unusual. You always left the doors to the empty rooms open with a wedge so they wouldn’t get stuffy from disuse. Maybe you’d opened the window yesterday and forgot? Had the wind closed it for you?

Shrugging to yourself, you opened it anyway.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, “fuck, shit, sorry.”

Inside, collapsed face down on the bed dressed with only a sheet was a man, near-naked in only a pair of boxers. You couldn’t see much of his features bar a mop of chocolate curls, a heavily tattooed arm, and a particularly nice arse beneath his pants.

He lifted his head, complete with a gorgeous profile, and peeled open an eye. A very green, beautiful eye. He made a confused, questioning noise.

The room was full of belongings, so this must be the new tenant and not some homeless person who’d managed to sneak in without anyone realising. At least you hoped.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were moving in later today. Sorry.”

“Friday.” He managed. A sleep-coated, groggy and somewhat delirious voice. It was delicious. You wanted to taste it.

“What?”

“Friday was moving day.”

“Yes. Today.”

“No. Yesterday.”

You looked at your phone. “Christ. I’m sorry. Isolation is getting to me. You don’t care. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your sleep. I’ll go. Sorry.”

You pulled the door closed before you could embarrass yourself any further, and then hid yourself in the bathroom out of sheer embarrassment.

If you never saw that marvellous-looking man again it would be too soon.

Now

Harry often thought about that first day.

Morning. Just after dawn. Early summer sun casting you in gold. Tiny shorts. Faded creaseless t-shirt. Sleepy face messy hair.

He hadn’t seen you anything of the sort since and he craved it like an addict did cocaine.

A pandemic had ruined many things for many people, and the most recent ruin back then had been Harry’s longest relationship. That’s what had brought him to a double bedroom in a shared house rather than a flat and his own fucking space. He couldn’t afford the latter.

It had been hot that night, moving into a new home in the darkness. He’d picked up the key from the owner, your dad it had turned out, and transferred his possessions from one place to another in the late night simply to avoid having to discuss his situation with people he didn’t know.

But yes, the heat is what had caused him to strip down to his underwear before passing out. The startled look on your face at the sight of him had absolutely been worth it. The sight of you had been worth it. Such a strong attraction to someone fresh after a breakup should be wildly inappropriate, but there you suddenly were, bare-legged and dangling yourself in front of him like a piece of string to a kitten. Still, the fact remained that Harry liked to think himself a gentleman. He tried to be a gentleman, and after living so close to you for so long, it didn’t take long to learn that you liked to keep to yourself. So he had done the same.

Until now, apparently.

“That housemate of yours here?”

Harry’s ears pricked up at the question like a cat’s would if it heard something interesting. He recognised the voice and hated the speaker. He always had. Today was no exception.

“Which one? I’ve got three of ‘em if we don’t include Abbie.” Rhys’s oblivious laughter filtered up the stairs to the sanctuary of the top floor.

“Well I ain’t talkin’ about the lads, am I?”

Harry shivered. He imagined if you could hear them then you would too.

“She’s here”, “Don’t bother,” came simultaneously from Rhys and Abbie. Abbie sounded almost defensive, and that pleased Harry to no end.

“Why not?”

“Because she isn’t interested.”

“Maybe you should let her decide that for herself.”

Unconsciously, Harry rose from the desk in his room and made his way across the hall to yours. The door was open, obviously.

You were sitting up with a book but you had earplugs in. Whether it was playing music or just to block out the noise from downstairs he wasn’t sure. As soon as you spotted him a small smile curved on your lips, and you pulled an earplug out. It was playing music.

Harry had never met anyone who could listen to music and read at the same time. There were surely plenty, but this put you in the Elite Tier in his head.

“What’s up?”

Footsteps began on the stairs, and Harry threw a cautionary glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, sliding the lock across.

You were leaning forward now, a crease in your brow. “What’s going on?”

“Rhys’s friends are here.”

You blinked. “I know.”

“Yes but his idiot friends are here.”

You tipped your head. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know… Gaz? The one with the teeth.”

“Oh. Right. Why not? He’s harmless, no?”

“Is he? I’m not so sure.”

Your name suddenly trilled from the floor below. “You home?”

You looked at the door as Harry moved to the side, dumbfounded. Harry shook his head at you when you began to move.

Why not? You mouthed.

Harry pretended to drink from an invisible glass and grimaced.

The idiot called your name again and knocked on the door. “Come on, come say hi.”

Harry was really scowling now. You flashed glances between him and the door multiple times.

“She’s probably asleep, mate!” Rhys hissed from outside the door. “She works early some Saturdays.”

That was not true. You’d never worked weekends, not even as a teen. It was Rhys’s smart ruse to get him to back off.

The door handle jostled. Harry suddenly looked more threatening than a mafia boss, and your jaw fell slack from shock.

“Oi,” smack, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What? Worth a shot.”

“No it fuckin’ weren’t, go downstairs.”

Some heated muttering commenced, but neither you nor Harry moved or spoke until you were satisfied they wouldn’t hear anything.

“Did he seriously just try and get in here?”

“While you were ‘sleeping’?” Harry air-quoted around the word. “Yes. He did. Hence the distrust.”

“What the fuck…”

He watched you for a moment and the look on your face said it all. You were upset, in a confused sort of way. Your mind was somewhere else, no longer in this room. Eyes glassy and breathing shallow.

Someone had tried to come into your personal space while they had the impression you were sleeping. If that had been the case there was no telling what would’ve happened. If Harry hadn’t come in you probably wouldn’t be any the wiser to Rhys’s friend’s real character, and that was what scared him. You had a tendency to put too much faith in people as just people. If someone was being nice to you that must mean that they are nice.

“What are you reading?” He asked into the silence, not only to break the quiet but to pull you out of the trance you’d been in.

“Oh, er,” you looked down at the book in your lap and turned it upwards, flashing the cover to him, “some daft romance.”

You put it aside after slotting the bookmark inside to keep your place. He smirked to himself. God forbid you dogear a page.

“Happy ending?”

You nodded, playing with your loose earbud. “Yeah. Has to be.”

“They’re my favourite.”

You gawked at him then. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Is that so shocking?”

You laughed musically. “I don’t know… I kind of assumed a guaranteed happy ending would irritate you or something.”

“Not at all. Sad endings are rubbish.”

“Aren’t they?” You patted the bed by your lap, suddenly animated. “I hate them.”

“Me too.”

“What are they for? No one wins, everyone is miserable, and someone has almost always died in the middle.”

He folded his arms, brows furrowed in a mock defence. “Now who hurt you? Tell me. Who do I need to beat up?”

“John Green.”

Harry scoffed. “He’s the worst.”

“Paper Towns? What the fuck was that all about?”

“Load of shit.”

“Exactly!”

He grinned, relaxing his posture. A commotion began downstairs, and he turned over his shoulder towards the door. Two phones dinged inside the room.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 🍻🍻➡️��➕👰🏼

You were being left alone. Thank God.

Harry met your gaze with a passive smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Wait…”

He raised a single brow at you. “Yes?”

“Why don’t we watch a movie? If they’re pissing off out…”

He was both surprised and elated by your suggestion. All he’d be doing otherwise was looking for flats to move into alone and listening to some murder podcast before passing out. Friday nights were raucous in one’s late twenties.

“Two movies.” He bargained. “One we can bitch about first, and then one we like to make ourselves feel better.”

Your returning smile was prizewinning. Priceless. “And… takeaway? I really don’t want to cook.”

He clicked and pointed a finger at you. “You’ve got yourself a deal, madam.”

This was a new low for you. Or perhaps it was a high - you hadn’t decided yet. Using the newfound common ground over a love of happy endings off the back of the fear of a mad man trying to let himself into your room to coax Harry into a movie night with you. In your room, no less. The house was empty yet you chose to suffer the shitty WiFi signal in your tower room because your bed was more comfortable than the communal sofa in the living room on the ground floor. The cold ground floor.

Now, after a shared pizza that was delivered in record speed, you and Harry lay parallel to one another as you batted bitchy comments between one another about the infuriatingly devastating plot of Atonement.

“I wanna smash her face into a wall.”

You nearly choked on your wine, and wiped a pre-existing tear off your cheek. “Harry,”

“What?” He whined. “Every time I get to the end and she tells the real story I see red. Why get people’s hopes up like that?”

His eyes were red around the rims.

You sat forward as the credits began to roll and looked at him with a timid smile. “Opinionated, aren’t you?”

He was draped across the left side of your bed closest to the door, legs crossed at the ankle and hands tucked behind his head against the headboard. He was close to slouched, but he looked so impossibly at ease you wanted to just nestle right into him.

You could do it. Nothing is stopping you.

You repressed a growl.

“Coming from you?” He retorted, amused.

Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. “What’s next?”

He pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful look towards the ceiling. “Notting Hill?”

You gasped. “Fuck yes. Do you fancy dessert?”

“Always. What have you got?”

“I picked up a chocolate trifle on the way home from work.”

“That sounds dirty as fuck.”

“It is dirty as fuck.” You agreed and stood from your bed. “I picked it up on the way home with the intention of eating it all by myself, but… I’m willing to share.”

“How kind.” Harry chuckled. You felt his gaze on you leaving the room.

Two minutes later you returned with an unwrapped trifle and two spoons. Harry had already found Notting Hill on one of the many subscription sites you paid for and had it paused right at the start. He sat up straighter as you settled back down, pressed play, and then the two of you sunk into cake and gooey chocolate layered beneath sweet cream.

“Is Hugh Grant too posh?” Harry asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes, but it suits him?” Your question pondered. “Like, I couldn’t imagine him with a Scouse or Georgie accent.”

Harry’s returning laughter was delighted, magical. “This would be a very different film if he did.”

You gave a gutterall, mischievous laugh. “I would like to see it.”

Once you’d spoiled yourselves with trifle you settled back down, two parallel figures unmoving in the dim room, except to drink wine.

Harry was an ominous presence beside you. Warmth radiated off him in languid rolls, beckoning to you like an evil sea siren. Your hands fisted on your stomach, muscles tense. It really was taking everything in you not to lean into him and inhale his scent. Let it lull you to sleep like a safety blanket.

Occasionally you peeked glances at him. If he’d noticed you he never said anything, and it made you brave. After so long the film became background noise and Harry was the real star. A black t-shirt across a flat, muscular chest, steady breaths causing a rise and fall. Black jogging bottoms that rose higher up his legs with each slight movement, showing more scrumptious leg hair per inch. Big, boney, veiny feet with heinously long toes. Hair taken off his face with a tiny claw grip, a little greasy around the ears.

The overwhelming need to shove your face into his armpit finally gave motive to look away. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts meant nothing anymore. There was a sexy man sprawled across your bed who ate your trifle and wanted to watch stupid rom-coms with you.

You fell asleep before the end.

Harry was sure he was dreaming. It wasn’t possible, the situation he found himself in. It was what he wanted, what he had really wanted for a while now, but the actual possibility of it coming to fruition had been next to none. Zero. Impossible.

He’d woken up in your room. That was the first tell that he was still dreaming. Then he found a warm body curled around him, and him around them in return. Your warm body. Leg draped over his thigh, arm slung across his torso, head tucked under his chin, his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your strawberry shampoo.

You were both still on top of the covers, neither able to finish the movie without passing out. He’d even noticed you had nodded off first but he didn’t want to leave you without making sure you’d lock the door behind you again in case Rhys and his idiot friends returned.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. That was too accurate and not nearly lucid enough for an unconscious mind.

He didn’t want to move in case he stirred you, but he was desperate to see your face. Your beautiful, sleeping face. He refused to believe you’d cuddled up to him while conscious. Because it had been that way around - you were parked up on his side of the bed. His lips pricked upwards at the corners with that knowledge.

It was raining heavily outside. It fell against the window in loud smatters, the room cast in a dull grey tone. It made him want to squeeze you tighter, to keep you from any harm. He still refrained.

Eventually you woke. He could tell from the way your body tensed and your breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t freak out.” He mumbled, voice thick from lack of use.

You took in a deep, obvious breath. “No? Why not?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I think I do.”

“Explain, please.”

You hesitated, wetting your lips, and took in another deep breath. “I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“How?”

“I’ve put myself into your personal space without your permission.”

“You were unconscious.” He argued.

“Doesn’t make it any better. You should’ve run for the hills the second my foot touched your lovely hairy leg.”

Harry chuckled. He tightened his arm around you and brushed his nose through your messy hair. “Maybe I don’t mind you in my personal space. Maybe… I like it.”

“Do you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

He laughed again. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

You sat up and faced him.

Gah. There you were. Puffy eyes, cracked lips, scruffy hair. His stomach did a backflip at the sight of you - a dream he had nightly. In equal measure, he missed having the warmth and weight of your body against him.

“Don’t think about it too much.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Nothing needs to be complicated.”

You remained silent, either awestruck or dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure.

He stood, reluctantly, and pinched your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

That sorted you out. Your face rearranged itself into a scowl, gaze following him as he left the room. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but such a conversation felt too poignant for 8 o’clock in the morning. You needed space to let your thoughts take over.

Cooking dinner and movie nights. That had become yours and Harry’s thing. After he’d dropped what you considered a bombshell that he didn’t mind you in his personal space you’d had the longest shower of your life - accidentally using all the hot water - and then spent the morning face down on your bed trying not to scream into your pillow.

Since then you’d been obsessively cleaning, more so than usual by way of distraction from the man living across the hall. The house was spotless. You’d even cleaned the windows at one point, outside, with help from your dad and looked at a way to fix the leaking problem in the empty bedroom.

It still didn’t stop your mind from constantly drifting back to the other morning. Waking up curled around Harry like that had been both terrifying and utterly perfect. For a man with such a hard physique he’d been incredibly comfortable. Too comfortable. Then he’d said a number of things that threw your somewhat orderly brain into complete disarray and chaos.

“You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

Harry hadn’t seemed to take his own words lightly, either. He’d been more comfortable in closer proximity with you since that morning, in the little things like light touches to your arms and back while you cooked together, or a kiss on the top of your head before you disappeared into your room for the night. Some nights you would share a bed after a movie because it was just easier - you were already settled, and you always woke up cuddled against him like a fucking creep.

“This,” Harry said as he pulled the oven door open, a waft of heat filling the cold room, “is gonna be fuckin’ banging.”

“Mhm.” You quipped, shoving a tortilla chip into some salsa, and then into your gob.

It was a Saturday night. By a freak stroke of luck, all the other housemates had gone away for the weekend - George to his parents’ and Rhys and Abbie on a weekend break to Amsterdam. So, a dinner and movie night had been a given, but you’d stuck a portable heater in the communal living room downstairs, found as many blankets as you could and piled them onto the sofa, then queued up enough movies to last all night.

Harry’s carefully crafted pizza sat atop the stove, cooked to perfection with your favourite ingredients on one half and his on the other. Your mouth watered.

You carried everything into the lounge, set it all up on the coffee table, and pressed play on your first movie of the night.

It was civil while you ate, and you were admittedly starving. To Harry’s credit the pizza was delicious and you wished it was bigger because you could’ve eaten another. You filled the hole in your stomach with tortillas and salsa instead. He graciously took all the dirty plates back into the kitchen when you were done, and returned with two bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and of course, watermelon. It was a very healthy dessert but the watermelon looked seriously out of place.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat your watermelon.” You joked. “Feels like a sacred honour.”

He snorted but remained silent.

Eventually, after all the food and a couple of glasses of wine, you were horizontal, your feet in Harry’s lap. He had his hands locked around your ankle after you accidentally kicked him in the thigh.

“If you were in a rom-com, who would you want to play your love interest?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Hugh Grant.”

You giggled, turning your face into the sofa cushion. “90s or current Hugh Grant?”

“90s. Current Hugh Grant is into much more sophisticated roles that I don’t care for. Even if they are generally great films.”

“I see…” you mused.

He squeezed your ankle, a smile flirting on his lips. “No, I don’t know. Who’s queen of romantic comedies? Reese Witherspoon? J-Lo?”

“Oh my God, I love J-Lo.” Your voice was a dreamy, breathy sound.

“A fine woman indeed.”

“I love it when you talk like it’s the 1800s.”

He laughed so loudly it was almost a bark. “Noted. Who would you want to play opposite?”

“Sam Claflin.”

“The king of rom-coms.”

“Exactly. Very easy on the eye.”

Harry was smirking again. His hands were moving now, smoothing up and down your leg in easy strokes.

Thank fuck you shaved, you little scruffy bear.

You mentally flicked your inner tormentor behind her ear.

The film played on and held your attention for some time. You were possibly the most relaxed you’d been for a very long time. Not one muscle in your body felt tight.

Harry’s lackadaisical caressing continued, which you were still half-conscious of. It was nice to be touched that way - you don’t think you ever had been. You didn’t panic until you realised he’d been venturing just a touch further up your leg with every stroke; until his fingers tickled your thigh.

You gasped, grabbing his wrist, wrenched yourself upright.

Heat flooded your centre, slick and warm. It was so instantaneous it took you by surprise, and your cheeks burned, the tips of your ears warm.

His eyes were on you, wider than usual. “Sorry,” he tried to speak but it only came out in a whisper.

What is wrong with you, woman? You wanted this.

The inner tormentor was right. You had wanted it, and for quite some time. But the advance of it had taken you so completely off-guard that your body had reacted before your brain did.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Harry muttered, a furrow between his brow. He was angry with himself.

Finally you managed to shake your head. You managed to manoeuvre yourself by taking one leg - the leg he still had his hand on because you were keeping it there - off his lap and tucked it under itself. You pressed his palm flat against your skin, smoothing over each of his long fingers in turn, and met his intense gaze.

You were much closer now, faces and bodies mere inches from each other. You could feel his breath against your face, and you knew he could feel yours too from the way his eyelids fluttered with each exhale. Shiny eyelids, you noted.

He slowly closed the space to brush his nose upwards against yours, and your next exhale was much shakier.

“What are we doing?” You asked.

“Whatever you want.”

You wanted many, many things. And 99% of them involved him.

You licked your lips, and his gaze dropped to them at the action. Your stomach squirmed and your inner voice squealed with nerves.

Harry placed his other hand firmly on your hip and tugged, and you spilled over his lap, straddling him with your hands using his shoulders for balance. Another gasp fell out of you at the feeling of a certain something between your legs. A certain hard something.

“Is this okay?” He asked, both hands tentative on your thighs.

“Mhm.” You managed.

His hands spread wider, and you grew wetter, breathing heavier

He swallowed thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

All you could do was nod.

You noticed the beginning of a smile before his mouth was on yours. That mouth you’d thought of many times, at all hours, on all days of the week. And it was finally on yours, and perfect too. Soft, big, spongy. It felt like heaven against your own.

He took his time, leisurely testing the waters with you. What you would allow and what you wouldn’t. What you liked and what you didn’t.

You liked all of it.

His tongue was reverent as it eased your lips open, but thorough once you’d granted him access to you. He tasted like strawberry and watermelon, a delicious combination. A lethal combination.

His hands still smoothed over your thighs, reaching for your arse but never quite making it there. He didn’t want a repeat of the previous reaction from you.

You held onto him tightly, hands squeezing over his shoulders in an accidental but welcomed massage. You wanted to touch him everywhere but weren’t sure if he was okay with it.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this with you.” Harry’s voice was gruff, strained. He spoke against your lips.

“Neither did I.” You said breathily.

“Thought about it a lot.”

“Me too.”

He groaned into your mouth, hands rising to your hips and waist, tugging on your loose t-shirt.

You continued kissing, mouths bruising with lust, skirting around the removal of clothes. His arousal only got harder between your legs and it made you wriggle. Your wriggling caused friction, and the friction caused whimpers.

“I won’t last if you make noises like that.”

This information gave you immense satisfaction. He practically ate the smile off your face, and you wriggled again over the top of him. More whimpers, more movement. Back and forth, back and forth until you were utterly soaked inside your pyjama shorts.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed.

“Harry,” you moaned, fisting his t-shirt at the chest.

“Keep going.” He practically begged.

You gave a frustrated noise and did as he said, rolling your hips over the length of his clothed shaft. Over and over and over again. Tits began to bounce. Back began to sweat. Toes began to curl.

Harry stripped you of your top and buried his face in your chest. Kissing, licking, sucking, bruising. A canvas of vivid colour. He dragged his lips across any inch he could, leaning forward, arching you backwards, just to access more. More more more.

Rolling, dragging, rolling and dragging your dampness against his erection. It was your sole focus. You needed it - the release you hadn’t felt for some time. You were always too nervous to masturbate with only two walls and doors separating you and Harry. You needed this more than anything else.

He held onto your back with one strong arm, hand gripping your waist while his other cupped your breast, and he took your nipple into his mouth without any further hesitation. Lick, suck, lick.

You squealed at the sensation, grabbed his face and brought his mouth back to yours. Faster faster faster you moved your hips and devoured his mouth until-

“Harry!”

Heat burst through your body, crashing through every cell, corner and crevice. You were tense as you came, clinging to Harry as tightly as possible. Then, as breath left you, you fell limp against him.

Harry stroked your hair and kissed your temple. His nose drew circles on your cheek.

When you pulled back, thoughts catching up to you, you looked confused.

“What?” He asked, head tipped to one side.

“This doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This,” you pointed between him and you.

“Why doesn’t it?”

“Because,” you gestured at him and then dropped your hands to your lap, “have you seen you?”

“Many times.”

You gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious, Harry. People that look like you aren’t interested in people who look like me.”

“What a horrifically outdated cliche.” He said in a flinchingly bored tone. “For the record, I think you’re bloody gorgeous. Have done since the day I met you.”

“Why?”

“Because I do! Life is too fucking short to let society dictate who is attractive enough to date who.”

You made a face, one where your eyebrows and your mouth stretched. “Yes, but-,”

“-No buts. I fancy the pants off you and that’s all you need to know.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have let you do what you just did if I wasn’t sure. Would I?”

“I don’t know… some men are pigs.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Look,” he took your face in his hands, “some men are indeed pigs. But I like you. A lot. And I’ve had fantasies a hell of a lot like what we just did together for a damn embarrassing amount of time. About you. That’s all you need to know. Ever since I met you, I’ve been all about you.”

You pulled your lips between your teeth and stared at his chest, unseeing. Giddiness filled your tummy and white noise flooded your ears.

Harry picked up your hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. He watched you closely as he peppered kisses to your skin. “You’re thinking too hard, but I get it.”

“I think too hard about everything.” You mumbled. “Especially when it comes to you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know but I’ve always thought about you more than I’d like to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re very distracting.”

“Sounds like a compliment to me.” He said, and pecked your nose. “Shall we finish our movies and go to bed?”

Involuntarily, and as if prompted by the suggestion, you yawned. “Probably a good idea.”

Harry smiled, wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezed you tightly to his solid frame. “Let’s do it.”

Harry worked late a lot over the next week or so. He hated it mostly because it meant less time with you. Less conscious time, anyway. For the first few nights he’d come home to find you asleep and couldn’t bear the idea of accidentally waking you up, but after sharing a bed with you for so many nights now, it had been a hard drug to quit.

It was late now, well past midnight and you’d probably fallen asleep hours ago. But seeing you curled up and facing the window, sheets bunched up to your chin and face buried in your pillow, he couldn’t help himself.

He quietly stripped out of his clothes, save for his boxers, shut the door behind him and slid into bed beside you. He surrounded you with his warmth - arms around your middle and his face pressed between your shoulder blades. He tugged you backwards until your bodies were flush together, chest to back, and sponged a wet kiss into your shoulder.

You did rouse a little, giving out a soft, sleep-filled squeak. “Hi.”

He smiled, leaving another kiss closer to your neck. “Hi.”

“Wondered when you’d be back.” You said around a content sigh.

“And me.”

You giggled. You took a hand that clasped around your chest and brought it up to your lips. “Tried to stay awake for you but failed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.”

He littered more kisses against your skin, because he could just never get enough of you. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure.”

“Now go back to sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

“You look different.”

You frowned, meeting your sister’s scrutinous eyes between washing a saucepan clean. You were washing, she was drying, like you always did. You didn’t trust her enough to actually clean the dirty tableware. Sometimes she didn’t properly dry things either, but you’d make the most of what you could.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a kind of… air about you.”

“Right…”

“Hey,” your dad appeared, nudging your sister’s arm, “maybe she’s got a boyfriend.”

Embarrassed heat filled your body.

“No, that’s not it.” Your sister shook her head. “Anyway, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“I don’t…” you didn’t know how to finish that.

Perhaps your many nights sharing a bed with Harry had been what she was talking about, but the label of boyfriend/girlfriend definitely hadn’t come up yet. You just liked each other. A lot. Add that to the fact that any night you shared a bed with him you didn’t wake up in cold sweats or choked screaming fits, it wasn’t exactly something you planned to stop doing any time soon.

“Oh my God, don’t overthink it like you do everything else. It’s a compliment. Take it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Aye, don’t be snotty.” Dad swatted your sister’s arm.

“I’m not!”

Your sister was younger than you, and for all eternity most definitely cooler. She was in school and that hadn’t changed into adulthood. It didn’t particularly bother you. Generally you got on very well, she just didn’t have a problem opening her mouth when she had an opinion.

“Anyway, don’t forget family dinner night. Next Friday?” Dad reminded you.

Ah yes. Family dinner night was not here at Dad’s house with just you and your sister. It was at the house with Dad, your sister, and all the housemates. George proclaimed it his favourite time of the month, because Dad, an ex-chef, always cooked. Harry, because of his often awkward shift work, was almost always absent.

“Okay.” You nodded.

After finishing your last dirty dish, you pulled your phone out.

Blackpool Tower

👑 ❌😃

Sometimes a text simply couldn’t be written exclusively in emojis, so you’d come up with a rule whereby if you needed to write one, you’d send a ❌😃 to alert them.

👑 Family dinner night next Friday. Be there or be square 💘

👰🏼 🤯🤩🤯🤩🤯

🌚 🎉🎉🎉

“You’re still doing the emoji thing?” Your sister asked with a narrowed gaze.

“We have another bet running to see who’ll crack first.”

“Right… will everyone come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s me asking if Harry will be there, by the way.” She said with a smirk, nudging your arm.

If you didn’t know any better you’d be hot under the collar thinking she was onto you. The mention of his name got you flustered anyway, but you did know better. As any sensible woman would, your sister had a little thing for Harry that she’d never shied away from.

“I don’t know.” You repeated, somewhat irritated.

“Well, find out! Do I need to make an effort or not, you know?”

“I mean… he doesn’t usually come. So probably not.”

“Double check. To be safe. Or give me his number.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Bore.” She scoffed, and swished away.

Sundays were laundry day. Harry knew this, which is why he’d never do his on the same day. Everyone in the house knew that first thing on a Sunday morning you would head down to the basement with a book and a basket full and sit there until everything had been through the tumble dryer (unless it was delicate in which case you’d air it in your window for the day).

Today, though, Harry travelled from the top of the house to the very bottom and slipped inside the utility room, closing the door behind him before any of the other housemates could hear him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, voice light with laughter.

Harry’s gaze rested on you, full of some kind of infatuation. You were sitting atop the industrial-size tumble dryer in the far corner of the room, back against the wall and knees up, book held against your thighs.

He shrugged. “Wanted to come irritate you a bit.”

“You never irritate me.”

He grinned and put himself in your personal space. He found your bookmark and placed it between the pages, and then took it away, abandoning it. “Are you sure?”

You let him manoeuvre you; pulled you forward a little and spread your knees apart. Your legs fell over the side, resting either side of his hips, and your breathing quickened. He placed one hand on your thigh and the other stroked over your cheek.

“Feel free to interrupt laundry day any time you want.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You laughed at his mock genuine tone and brushed your fingertips against his lips. “You know, my sister has a massive thing for you.”

He stood quietly for a fraction of time, gaze assessing. “I would tease you about it but I just can’t. I kind of already guessed.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm. She’s not exactly subtle.”

“No, she’s not. She asked me for your number.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“What do you think?” You rolled your eyes.

He smirked. “You getting possessive of me?”

“Maybe. But she’s too self-absorbed to realise. She thinks I’m doing it because giving out your number willy nilly is morally wrong. Which it is. But yeah, I also just don’t want her to have it.”

His lips tightened, nose flared, eyes light - batting away a smile. “I think I like this side of you.”

You gave an uncharacteristic grunt, but your eyes never left him. “You look like a frog when you make that face.”

His face neutralised and he sucked in a breath. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

This visibly delighted you. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Froggy.”

“Too far.” He pinched your waist

You giggled, hands pressed against his chest. Your palms felt warm over his t-shirt and he never wanted you to take them away.

“How long left on your cycle?”

“Er…” your gaze dipped downwards to the screen on the washing machine. “Like, 20 minutes probably.”

“And then it’s going in the tumble dryer?”

“Yes… why?”

“Because,” he pecked your lips once, “I think I know,” he kissed your left cheek, “something we can do,” then your right cheek, “while we wait.”

Your gaze was curious and intense as he started sponging his lips down your front, from neck to chest to stomach. You reclined some, breathing heavy, and he pulled your legs up by the ankle and planted your feet back on top of the dryer.

“Oh,” you spoke, voice caught.

“You okay with this?” He asked hesitantly.

Even though you’d been sleeping side by side something close to 5 nights a week, your little dry humping session last weekend was as far as you’d gone in the sexual intimacy department.

You made a strangled noise. “Christ, yes.”

Grin fully spread across his face, he smoothed his palms up your thighs to your hips and tucked his fingers into the silky waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Can we take these off?”

You hummed an affirmed noise, and lifted your arse off the surface. In one smooth pull he had the garment off your legs and over his shoulder, probably in the same vicinity of the book he’d taken off you.

He met your gaze with a lifted brow. “Not a fan of knickers?”

“Not in my jim-jams, no.”

His smile blossomed like daffodils in spring. “That’s either the cutest or sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Can we go with sexy considering what I hope you’re about to do?”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

You squealed a little at the name, but he couldn’t tell if you loved it or hated it. Regardless, he kept a firm grip on your legs and lowered his lips to your knee. In a slow, measured movement, he kissed his way up the inside of your legs with his hot, wet mouth.

Your breath was laboured as you watched him, eyes wide when he met your gaze again but so incredibly keen. To prove it, you pushed a hand through his curls and massaged his scalp, coaxing him forward.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so fucking long.” He admitted, mouth dragging over the softest part of your thigh.

His hot breath fanned against your waiting lips and you visibly clenched.

“I’ve wanted you to, believe me.” Your voice was but a rasp.

“Yeah?” He sighed happily, left hand moving closer to your centre. He extended his thumb out, “Are you wet for me?” He pulled your lips apart, and the noise he made at the sight of you was practically carnal.

“Harry,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.

He hummed again, face inching closer to your dripping lips. He licked between you, wetness collecting on his tongue. The taste of you was something better than he could’ve ever imagined and he growled because of it. He gripped your legs tighter, hesitant no more, and buried his face right between your soft thighs.

“Oh, God,” you whined. Your head lolled backwards and both fists found purchase in his beautiful hair, twisting and tugging.

He grunted in response to you, spurred on. He collected as much of your juice as he could, firm stroke after firm stroke of his perfectly capable tongue.

He played with your clit in a way that made you squirm and squeal, eliciting the most delectable little noises out of your hoarse throat. Harry didn’t hold back - he never had in that department. He went for it completely and utterly.

The washing machine launched into rapid spinning, filling the room with wheezing, screaming noises.

“Harry, don’t stop.” You begged, body rigid with desperate tension.

He obeyed your every word. He spread your legs further and further with his digging grip. He burrowed his face into your cunt, tongue plunging inside of you and spading inside your heat like a desperate gardener.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted as you lifted your head again to watch him.

His eyes were already on you, dark and hooded and filled with keen lust. His head moved with an eager precision like his mouth did. He wanted you this way. He’d wanted it for so long he couldn’t quite believe he was getting it. You were a goddess, ethereal and perfect.

The washing machine’s cycle reached its peak, vibrating harshly beside the two of you. It was deafening yet the least bit distracting.

Harry pursued his advances on your cunt relentlessly and without breath until your body went rigid and then shuddered. You screamed his name, withholding nothing, any cries drowned out by the washing machine. Your body visibly vibrated like the machine beside you, and eventually your limbs weakened to jelly.

Harry stood straight and helped you sit up again, wrapping his arms around your middle. He tucked your head into his neck and twisted his face into your hair.

“You’re right, that was incredibly sexy.” He mumbled.

He revelled in your returning laughter, the sound light and airy. You showed no shame in clinging onto him, fingers raking through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Maybe you can do it again later.” You suggested, lips sponging against the skin on his neck.

“Any time you like.”

After another minute or so you pulled away, eyes scouring his face. “You’re a mess, sir.” You commented as you wiped your thumb around his shiny mouth.

He made a wordless noise, held your wrist, and took your thumb in his mouth. “I’ll be a mess for you.”

“Perhaps I’ll be a mess for you, too.”

His brows shot up and it made you laugh. “It’s cruel to joke about that.”

“I’m not joking.”

He gave you a challenging look.

“Want me to prove it?” You offered.

Was it even worth the question? “Always.”

You grinned. “Let me put my washing in the dryer and I will.”

He took a step back and bent at the waist, arms extending like he was bowing. “M’lady.”

You hopped down from where you’d been sitting and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Sir.”

The kitchen was a hive. And a mess. There was shit everywhere and your anxiety was through the roof just looking at it. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight because any kitchen your dad found himself in nowadays ended up looking like a pig sty but it didn’t settle the tightness in your chest.

He moved around the room with chaotic precision while you trailed after him tidying up any unnecessary mess, and your sister sat at the dining table Rhys and George had brought up from the basement an hour ago, scrolling through her phone.

“What about him?” Your sister flashed her screen to the two of you, the next Tinder profile filling it.

Your dad leaned over and squinted. “His eyes are too far apart.”

“Ugh. Knew you were gonna say that.” She grumbled.

This was a game you played regularly. Your sister would showcase potential Tinder matches either for her or for you (which you always declined to comment on), and your dad would garner his unfiltered opinion. It was probably a big part of the reason you were both still (technically) single. No one was ever good enough. That, and you didn’t have a Tinder account. Or any dating app account, actually.

“Him?” She flashed the next profile to you both.

Cute. But…

Not Harry.

Your inner tormentor smirked.

“What’s his anthem?” Dad knew all the terminologies now for the dating app world. He liked to call Hinge ‘UnHinged’, because that’s what the suitors on there usually were.

“Um… Wonderwall.”

You gagged, and Dad scoffed. “Next.”

You carried on for a little while, joining in when you felt like it but mostly just trying to keep the kitchen at an acceptable level of clean.

Rhys, Abbie and George were upstairs getting themselves ready for dinner as if it was some kind of gala they were about to attend. They did it everytime; dinner with Dad felt like an occasion. Harry wasn’t home and you hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask if he was going to be. He left at such a weird time this morning you couldn’t figure out what shift he was on and how that would affect his ‘home time’.

“Lay the table please, poppet?” Your dad asked of your sister, because he knew it was the only task she’d willingly do.

She leapt to her feet in a dramatic flurry and made for the cutlery draw. “Have we got enough for matching sets?”

“Very unlikely.” You muttered. You hadn’t eaten dinner with matching cutlery since you moved in.

The front door opened, cold air blustering in and mixing with the heat of the kitchen. Harry stepped in, bundled up in a big coat and rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“Hope I’m not late.” He said in a gravelly voice, smile sheepish.

“Harry!” Dad greeted him with complete joy. “Wasn’t expecting you, what a nice surprise.”

Your sister looked flustered all of a sudden. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming. Part of you had, too.

“I’ll just change and be back down.”

“Sure, we’ve got a bit of time yet.” Dad waved him away.

You’d pretended to busy yourself, but you watched as he headed for the stairs and caught the subtle wink he gave you.

Ah shit.

“What am I going to do?” Your sister panicked. “I'm a disaster - I look hideous.”

“No you don’t.” You grumbled. She’d never looked hideous in her life.

“Can I borrow some makeup?”

It was easier to just give her what she wanted rather than fighting her on it. “Sure - what do you need?”

She listed off a bunch of makeup items, most of which sounded completely foreign so you were sure you didn’t have them. You’d just give her your entire makeup bag and let her do what she wanted.

You knocked on Harry’s door before you went back down, makeup bag in hand. He opened in just his jeans, a light straight-leg pair with gaping holes at the knees.

“Hey,” he smiled, and rested an arm against the doorframe.

“Hi… I thought you’d be working late?”

He shook his head. “I was supposed to be. Swapped my shift ‘cause I always miss family dinner.”

“I see… well, you’ve successfully panicked my sister.”

“That was my plan all along, actually.”

“Mhm, sure.” You bit away a smirk. You liked this playful side of him a lot. “If you need half an hour to mentally prepare… I’d take it.”

“Noted, thank you.”

You left him to change and made your way back downstairs. Your sister eagerly took your makeup from you and dashed to the bathroom on the first floor.

Neither she nor Harry, or anyone else for that matter, came down until it was time to sit down.

Your dad sat at the head of the table as he always did, spread laid out in front of you in the middle. You sat to your dad’s right on the corner, and your sister to the left. You knew she was going to try and save the seat on her other side for Harry, but George ended up taking it instead, which visibly irritated her. She did have a particular ‘gay man’s best friend’ vibe about her - they flocked to her like sheep. Abbie sat at the other head, Rhys on her left, and then Harry sandwiched between Rhys and you.

He squeezed your thigh under the table, and you tried to pretend like it didn’t have some obscene effect on your intimate places. You lightly kicked his shin and started piling food onto your plate.

Like some kind of mafia father, your dad went around the table and asked all of the housemates for an update on their lives. He liked to do this, and fortunately your housemates liked pleasing him. He was a good landlord, and that showed by the way they gravitated towards him. He probably wouldn’t do this sort of thing if you weren’t living there, but he had a responsibility to them as tenants as well as you, his eldest daughter.

When you were done eating you sat back in your chair and put your hands in your lap. Harry didn’t hesitate to take one in his own and link your fingers. You peeked up at him as subtly as possible, unable to fight the giddy warmth that spread through you. He didn’t meet your gaze for the sake of keeping everyone else out of your business, but he did squeeze your hand, which only made the airy, slightly delirious feeling inside of you that much stronger.

Your sister spent 20 minutes talking about herself without breath, and as self-absorbed as she was, she was harmless, really. Not to mention entertaining. You never laughed as much as you did when she had her mouth open.

“Harry, you should come to these more often.” She said to him, batting her eyelashes.

You were about to walk her and your dad to the car and send them on their way. Harry was trying his absolute hardest to escape.

He cleared his throat. “I probably should, yeah.”

“It was good having an extra nice body.”

You gave her a look, brow raised. She shrugged. “I think it’s home time, no?” You prompted, gripping her arms and nudging her away.

“Fine.” She huffed, and began walking towards the street. “Bye team!”

Most people had already disappeared to their rooms but you had to admire her spirit. Dad was already gone, eager to go to bed.

You were halfway to the car when your sister asked, “So are you gonna tell me or what?”

You met her gaze with another raised brow. “Tell you what, exactly?”

“Mate,” she swatted my arm, “I am not an idiot. I know when I’m not wanted, because it’s not often.” She could not get any more vain if she tried. “I always did wonder what I had to do to get Harry’s attention better, and today I finally figured it out. I need to be you.”

Ah. Not as ignorant as she appears, then.

You pressed your mouth closed, looking away. “Er,”

“Don’t ‘er’ me. I saw that wink he gave you when he got home, but I thought he was just trying to wind me up. And then he sat next to you, not by choice it seemed, but there was barely an inch of space between you and practically a metre between him and Rhys. Then he just didn’t stop looking at you, even though he pretended he wasn’t. Let me tell you, that boy has not learned the art of subtlety.”

She turned to you then, a searing gaze heavy. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, or if you’re already shaggin’ him and lying to me about it-,”

“-We’re not having sex.” Yet.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Just do something about it, please. If I can’t have him you should. Don’t let a man that beautiful go to waste. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” She huffed, and then pulled you in for a tight hug. “Fed up of seeing you alone and underselling yourself. You’re hot shit! I know it, and Harry clearly knows it.” She suddenly takes your face in her grasp. “So do something about it.”

You appeared in the doorway of Harry’s room around 20 minutes later, fresh-faced and in your PJs. He was reading in bed, having stolen a book out of your cupboard.

“Is he secretly in love with her?” He asked without taking his eyes off the pages, his long finger brushing the spine.

You squinted at the title as you moved closer to him. “Yes. What made you pick that one?”

“Because it’s obviously your favourite.”

“How’d you work that one out?”

“The spine is cracked beyond belief. It’s nearly falling apart.”

“I might’ve bought it from a charity shop.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you?”

“No.”

He put the book aside, focussing all of his attention on you. You’d sat down cross-legged on top of the covers, and you wore a calm yet unreadable expression. There was a hint of something in your eyes. Infatuation, maybe?

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just… happy.”

“Me too.”

You remained quiet for a moment, gazing at one another in a comfortable silence. Eventually, Harry opened his arms in request of your embrace, and you gave it to him without hesitation. You settled against him, head tucked under his chin.

“I like this, Harry. Us.”

“So do I.” He nodded, pressing his lips into your hair. “A lot.”

“You make it easier.”

“Make what easier?” He asked, and then held his breath.

A beat passed. “Life. Sleeping. Consciousness. Cooking. Just… being.”

“That’s a very big compliment.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

When you peered up at him, he lowered his mouth to yours for a slow and tender kiss. It wasn’t abrasive or demanding; it was perfect. Full of an understanding that neither of you expected to find in another person.

“Tell me about your nightmares.”

“I don’t have them when I’m with you.” You admitted, as if he hadn’t already worked it out. When he didn’t respond to you, you reluctantly continued. “They’re about my mum. She died in a car accident a few years ago and I dream about it sometimes.”

Harry’s heart found its way into his mouth. “You were there?”

“No. My sister was. I was with dad - it was a weekend. Me and dad at his work cooking, mum and my sister shopping in town. Were on their way back and someone just ploughed into the side of the car, driver’s side. She died on impact and my sister was in hospital for a week.”

Harry held onto you tighter, his lips against your temple. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay…” you swallowed, body tensed in stillness. “I dream about that day a lot. Mostly the part where Dad broke the news to me. Seeing my sister in the hospital plugged in and drugged up. The funeral; the look on Dad’s face. I wake up crying more than screaming, usually.”

He took a deep breath, and he clung to you like you might disappear. “I’m really sorry. Sorry that happened to you and your family, and that you have to relive it most nights. That’s not fair.”

You met his gaze, cupping his cheek. “Ever since we started doing… this, I haven’t had a single one. Not even on the nights we don’t share a bed. I don’t know why, I guess my conscience has decided it’s safe with you. And I do feel safe with you.”

“Then I will stay with you every night to make sure you never have a bad dream again.” He vowed, turning his head enough to kiss your palm. “I like knowing that you feel safe with me. S’a pretty big compliment.”

“I’m full of those when it comes to you.”

His chest swelled, a helpless smile on his face. “Even when you tell me I look like a frog.”

You snorted and hid your face in his chest. “You do, though.”

“Okay, thank you.” He huffed, feigning offence, but he didn’t let you go; didn’t loosen his hold on you.

You talked late into the night until you fell asleep, wrapped around one another and bundled under his bedclothes. Having you so close and being so open gave Harry a sense of clarity. He’d had an attraction to you since the day he met you, but this was turning into something more. Feelings were now coming up to bat, and he had a pretty solid idea of where they were heading.

“You are filthy.”

You wiped your brow, meeting Abbie’s gaze with indifference. “I am not letting this garden turn into a jungle again like it did last year.”

“I know, but I’ve never seen you so dirty. You’re the cleanest person I know.”

“Believe me, I’ll be jumping straight in the shower once I’m done.”

It was the warmest day of spring so far, and for once it wasn’t raining, so you’d taken the opportunity the second you had it to get outside and sort the garden out. The winter had turned it into a tangled overgrown mass of green mess, and you’d been desperate to get it sorted.

Abbie had offered to help but had realised very quickly that she was out of her depth, and eventually offered moral support in lieu of the physical kind. You didn’t mind the company - it beat waiting inside for Harry to come home, alone all day.

You chopped away at the forest that had grown, turned the soil over when you found it, and potted some new plants to give it some life. By the time Harry came home your legs were covered in dirt, cuts and fresh bruises, nail beds black, hair full of dead foliage, and just downright sweaty.

Abbie had surrendered to the house to be entertained by Rhys, and George wasn’t home. He was never home much anymore, you were all under the impression he had a boyfriend.

Harry helped you to your feet where you were kneeling in the soil, eyes giving you a thorough once over. “You look…”

“Filthy. Yes, I know.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I like it.”

“Really?”

He followed you as you collected your gardening tools and hid them in the shed tucked against the side of the house. “Absolutely. You’re so clean and put together all the time, it’s kinda nice seeing you a bit roughed up.”

You hummed out a laugh. “Interesting.”

Harry boxed you up against the wall, out of sight of any of your nosey housemates. His hips trapped yours, hands holding your sides at the ribs. Without a hint of hesitation, he pressed his mouth to yours, eagerness overpowering tenderness.

You simply let him, never one to deny the most handsome man you knew a hot and heavy kiss. You enjoyed being wanted by him. Who the fuck wouldn’t?

“I’ll let you go shower.”

“Okay.” You murmured, delirious.

He pulled away, giving your hip one last squeeze before he vanished into the house. You spent five more minutes in the garden making sure you’d tidied up after yourself, and took some pictures to send to your dad.

Your shower was longer than you’d have liked thanks to the state of you, and in turn it took you longer to clean the bathroom down than usual. You were starving by the time you got back to the top floor.

Harry was at his desk when you slipped inside his room, browsing something on his laptop.

His room and yours were polar opposites of one another. Where you hid all your belongings, made your bed and kept things as minimal as possible, Harry had more shit than necessary. A bulging wardrobe, unmade bed, things everywhere. He was a man with stuff, and lots of it. Sometimes it made you itch. But he wasn’t dirty in any capacity. It smelled of fresh linen and clean air all the time.

“Do you feel better?” He asked, closing the lid on his laptop again.

“Mm. Loads better.” You gave him a warm smile as you perched on the edge of his bed.

He rolled over to you but abandoned the chair halfway to stand up. Then he crawled over you, forcing you to lie backwards and caged you against the bed.

“You smell amazing.” He said with a voice like gravel.

You ran a hand down his front and slipped it under his t-shirt, trailing your fingertips over his chest. “Thank you,”

He lowered onto his forearm, face an inch from yours and groin against your pelvis. You inhaled sharply, noticing the very obvious stiffness coming from Harry’s midsection. His hand smoothed the length of your side, down your thigh to your knee and then back up again to your arse.

He met your mouth with a kiss, deep and hungry. Dizzying. He led and he was all over you, tongue devouring yours.

“It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to not follow you into the shower.” He admitted.

You let out a soft whine and fisted his t-shirt, pulling him flush against your chest. You wanted to feel the weight of him on you. “You should’ve.”

He returned that with a growl, and his hand on your arse gripped tighter. Your name tumbled off his lips in a husky plea, “I want you so fuckin’ bad.”

Hooking your legs around his hips and pushing his centre against yours, you gave him the silent go-ahead. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m right here, and you can have me.”

Something inside Harry snapped. Any reservations about your desire for him vanished. His kisses became punishing and carnal. His hands on you a little rougher than before, than ever. Possessive.

You helped him out of his top and in turn he helped you out of yours. You scooched backwards up the bed as he drank you in. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the first time he’d seen your top half naked. Somehow, amongst all the nights of bed-sharing, you’d never been fully naked.

His eyes were dark, hooded. He looked at you like you were his last meal, and honestly you lived for it. You wanted to die under that gaze.

“You’re so sexy.”

You bit away a timid, flustered smile. Bashfulness wasn’t sexy.

He stalked you like a wild cat as you lay back. His mouth and hands descended on you again, searching and exploring every inch of you, searing hot and wet kisses into your skin.

His hands slipped into your pyjama bottoms, feeling around your arse again before he tugged them down your legs, leaving you completely stark under his burning gaze. A strangled moan fell out of him while he regarded your naked form, hands smoothing and squeezing your hips, your waist, your boobs.

“You’re so fucking soft.” He said the words like praise.

You laid your hands on his as they travelled over you, and he pushed his mouth back to yours in that same eager dance as before. He ground himself against you, hard as a rock underneath his joggers, and it was doing all sorts to your core. Your heartbeat fell down and down again to your middle, slick heat flourishing between your legs.

“Please, Harry,” you begged him, pushing his hand down.

“What do you need?” He asked, a little cruelly, as if he didn’t know exactly what you needed.

“Touch me.”

The man gargled at you. He was fucking strangled. He traced between your thighs delicately to the point it tickled, and swiped a finger easily in a stripe up your folds, wetness collecting.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” You wriggled under him, desperate for more. “More.”

He played with your clit teasingly, enjoying the way you squirmed. “More?” He asked as he slid a finger into your waiting heat.

A small cry left you. It wasn’t enough and he knew it. “More.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

You whined. Now you were the one being carnal. You gripped his head tightly and kept your mouth to his, tongue abrasive and lashing.

While he wound you up in the most irritating way, you found your own ways to move him on. Your feet dug into the backs of his thighs and pushed downwards at an attempt to budge his joggers off. You didn’t want to wait anymore. You wanted him in all his solid glory, right now.

“Are you trying to take my bottoms off with your feet?”

“Yes.” You grunted.

“Oh,” he gave you a dark laugh as his kisses trailed back down your front, “that’s gonna cost you.”

He licked around your belly button, the warmth of his hands vanishing from your body to push his joggers down. He gave your cunt the shortest, most mind-blowing piece of attention with his mouth, dragging noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make. Then he turned you over without warning, on your front, and tugged your arse up to rest against his crotch.

You gasped, excited by the somewhat aggressive nature he’d taken on. Your Harry - soft and gentle as they got - man-handling you. You peered at him over your shoulder as he produced a square foil wrapper from somewhere and ripped it open with his teeth. He watched you watching him as he rolled it down his shaft, drawing your attention to it - visually, anyway - for the first time. You had to swallow the lump in your throat.

“This what you wanted, darlin’?” He asked as he smoothed his hand over your arse, but his gaze never left you. “You want me to fill you up with my cock?”

“God yes.” You said without a hint of a waver.

“You want it like this?” He lined himself up, fisting himself at the base, and glided the head of him through your wet, parted, waiting folds.

“Yes.” You whimpered. “Please. Please please please.”

He made that noise again, his large fist grabbing your hip as he hovered at your entrance, and then he thrust himself inside you.

A ripping, searing pain had you wanting to scream so loudly you had to shove your face into the mattress to muffle it. An ache blossomed in place of the initial pain, one that was all too familiar and yet quite unfamiliar. It had been absent, like a friend who lived too far away. Now it homed itself inside of you like it belonged there. Perhaps it did, and the only way to quell it was to entertain it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel good.” He hissed, his hands squeezing your hips and your bum in turn.

Harry pulled out, enough that only his head remained inside you, and then he gave another powerful thrust until he completely filled you. “So fucking good, my God.”

He started moving, in steady, sharp movements. He didn’t want slow. Hell, you didn’t want slow. You wanted fast and hot and sweaty, and that’s exactly what he gave you.

Harry started fucking into you so viciously you could feel it in every part of your body, from the jiggle of your tits to the shake of your arse to the rock of your hips. Oh, and the stretch of his cock as he buried deeper and deeper inside you. Every part of your body was aflame with need, a desire, a craving to be fucked into oblivion.

His hands were on your hips again, fingertips digging into your skin. He rocked you back and forth in time with his thrusts, not that you needed him to. You were doing that all on your own.

He grunted and hissed through every single powerful drive of his cock into your cunt, your name tumbling out of his mouth over and over again.

“Harry,” you whimpered, “harder.”

He growled and obeyed, pistoning inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes.” You cried, head burrowing again.

You felt him on you, all over you then, his chest against your back, lips kissing your shoulders and his arms with a vice grip around your middle. His skin was tacky, as was yours. You were surrounded by a cloud of packed heat, like a humid summer day.

“You are…” Harry began to say, panting in your ear, and his head shook against you, “fuck, I can’t even think straight.”

You moaned, lifting up and twisting your head in search of him. He caught your chin and brought your lips to his in another deep, claiming kiss. You wanted every kiss to be like that from then on - owning, possessing, asserting. You were his and you wanted him to know it.

He gave another round of punishing thrusts before he made a winded noise, “Turn over,” he pleaded, “I want to see your face.”

A whimper fell out of your mouth when his thickness disappeared from inside you, and he helped you onto your back before he got straight back in there. He was low over you, chest on your chest, hand on the back of your thigh, and his eyes roamed your face while it contorted with pleasure.

He hooked your leg over his hip and went harder. Harder, faster, harder, faster. Your head lolled back and a string of curse words fell out of your mouth. His lips danced across your chest and you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him there. There was nothing better than being worshipped by a mouth. Especially Harry’s mouth.

He licked and sucked over your skin until your boobs and sternum were littered with little purple spots of lust, and honestly you didn’t care. You wanted them all over you. You wanted yours all over him.

His hips never stopped moving - pushing, pushing, pushing you towards a beautiful, glorious high like a high-speed train ploughing towards a dangerous cliff edge. God, you wanted that edge and you wanted it now. You wanted to be flung off it whilst securely attached to the man currently pushing you there.

You pulled Harry’s mouth back to yours, holding your body to him as you clenched, milking him towards his end and yours. You needed it. Your head was about to explode with rampant thoughts and you needed to wash them away.

“Fuck, Harry,” you whispered, neck and shoulders spiked with heat. It radiated off you.

“I know.” He groused and bit your lower lip. “I’m fucking close. So fucking close, and I’m gonna blow if you keep doing that.”

“Please do it,” you begged, clenching again to feel his growl in your mouth, “come, Harry.”

And boy did he fucking come.

His body wracked with a shudder, movements ceasing as you wrapped yourself tightly around him. His muscles rippled beneath your fingertips while he came, oblivious to your own masterful undoing.

You calmed together, lips moving in tender kisses until your breath was caught again and your limbs were sore. You deflated when Harry abandoned you to clean himself up, and you dipped into your bedroom to do the same when you found the strength.

When he came back you snuggled up to him in his bed, between his legs with your head on his chest. His lips grazed through your hair, breathing light and content.

“I am… fucking obsessed with you.” He mumbled.

You traced your fingers over the hair and the swallows on his chest, a warmth filling you, like an acceptance. Being wanted hadn’t mattered to you until now. Until Harry.

“I… am also quite infatuated with you. And I have been for some time. Just… quietly.”

“You been sniffin’ my bed sheets while I’m at work?”

You giggled and nuzzled closer to him. “No. Not recently, anyway.”

“Not recently?”

“I’ve never sniffed your bed sheets, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“I’m weird, but I’m not that weird.”

“But you’ve been infatuated with me for ages.”

“Not enough to go into your room and sniff your bed sheets.”

“Did you do anything a bit weird?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even… a little… you know?”

You gave him a bewildered look, and he waggled his eyebrows at you.

Haha. You totally did that, you creep.

“Maybe.” You murmured, hiding your face again.

He chuckled and held onto you tightly. “I did, too. Feeling’s always been mutual, darlin’.”

You heaved a content sigh. “I’m glad it was. I really do like this. Us.”

“Me too.”

Harry had been living life with a permanent spring in his step. He had you, living in the same house and sharing a bed, cooking at dinner time, shagging at night time, and just generally being wonderful, fantastic, gorgeous, brilliant you.

Tonight you were at your dad’s house with your sister so he was cooking alone, but George was in the living room watching one of those daft culinary competition programs on Channel 4, the commentary filtering out with an occasional expletive. Abbie and Rhys were out but would likely be home soon. You’d be back eventually, too, and he liked knowing that nowadays you came home to him.

Rhys and Abbie came back first. Harry had decided to join George in the living room, too intrigued by the shouty drama on Come Dine With Me to ignore it.

Abbie gasped at the TV. “This is the one!” She squealed.

“What one?” Rhys demanded. “Oh, yes!”

“What am I missing?” Harry asked, a little bewildered.

George shushed everyone with a finger to his lips. “I’ve been talking him through it but I want him to see.” He flailed a hand in the couple’s direction.

All four pairs of eyes glued to the TV, a vetted interest in the argument unfolding. The contestants from that week’s episodes were gathering in the final host's living room, bank notes spread in a circle atop a silver tray and holding up a scroll wrapped in red ribbon.

The front door of the house opened again, and in you waltzed, a baffled look on your face. Very rarely did you come home to find everyone in the living room.

Abbie squeaked your name, begging you to join before it kicked off on the telly. “Come on, quick.” She patted the space between her and Harry, conveniently.

His eyes were no longer interested in the TV drama, only in you.

“In fourth place is… me.”

“Ah,” you said in recognition of the scene on the telly as you sat down. Your arm brushed against Harry’s as you tucked your right foot under your left thigh, and caught yourself before you settled into his side like you normally would.

A chorus of patronising oohs filled the room from the contestants on the screen. The host was shaking his head.

“Wait, is this the-,”

“You won, Jane.”

Barking laughter filled the room from the housemates, including Harry, but the host didn’t stop there.

“Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane.”

“You’ve got that on a T-shirt!” Harry swatted George’s arm.

“Damn right I do.” He grinned. “Cultural icon.”

“You, or the bloke having an aneurysm?”

“Both.”

“... grace of a reversing dump truck.”

More squeals filled the room, as if the entire scene hadn’t been a meme for years now.

Abbie patted your shoulder. “Did you see the video of Penn Badgley doing this?”

“Obviously.”

“Wait, I wanna see.” Rhys frowned.

Episode forgotten, Abbie found the clip on her phone and showed it to everyone.

“Oh my God, I think I’m going to hear it in that voice forever now.” George muttered, a wistful look in his eyes.

“Shall we watch a movie or something?” Abbie suggested, a hopeful look in her eye. “We never do anything all together… it would be nice.”

“I’m up for that.” Rhys grinned, because why would he ever turn down one of his girlfriend’s ideas?

“Yeah, me too.” George nodded.

All eyes turned to you and Harry. You couldn’t very well say no now, it would look odd. Especially if you both did, which is what you both wanted to do. There were two perfectly good beds upstairs, one of which needed to be destroyed. That wasn’t very well going to happen if you both sat on the couch and watched a film with your housemates.

“Yeah, sure.” You finally said, because you hated the way everyone was looking at you.

“Go for it.” Harry managed, much worse at hiding his disapproval than you were.

“How are we going to decide, then? ‘Cause I don’t really watch the horror films you two are into,” George pointed between Abbie and Rhys, “and Harry probably only watches underground indie movies or something.”

Harry had no idea what gave him that impression, but the laugh that came out of your mouth - hearty, loud and delighted - was worth the assumption.

“Why don’t we all write a movie name down on a piece of paper that we’ll all like - a comedy or something - and do a raffle.”

“Okay, but who’s choosing?”

Harry rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen. George and Abbie fought for five minutes, both arguing that one of them should choose, and then the decision was given to you as the honorary house mediator. Everyone wrote their choices down on a scrap of paper and dropped them all into one of Rhys’s beanies. Then you closed your eyes, body screaming reluctance at having to be the decision-maker, and plucked a folded square out.

Your mouth lifted at the corners. “Shrek 2.”

Snacks were brought in, beers were shared out, and someone pressed play on the film where it had been queued up.

“Wait!” George screamed.

You all looked at him, bewildered by his dramatics. He’d even stood up.

“What?” Rhys gave him a baffled look.

“I wanna sit in the armchair.” George pointed to the very one Rhys sat in. “I don’t wanna sit in a couple sandwich. A third wheel is bad enough, but a fifth wheel is a disaster.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, laughter nervous and the ultimate giveaway.

“Oh fuck off if you two think we don’t all know you’re a thing.”

Your body tensed. Harry could feel it, the way you went from soft to rigid in a split second. “What?”

“We’ve known for ages.” Abbie said with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, like, the second Harry moved in.” George rolled his eyes.

“But we haven’t been-,”

“-Maybe not the whole time, but definitely recently. I can hear the floorboards creak, you know.” George gave you an accusatory glance. Curse him living directly beneath you. “Amongst other things.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or whether he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pink, and you looked like you were in shock. “Right…”

“I am slightly offended that you didn’t want us to know.” Rhys folded his arms. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

He had a point. What did you think was going to happen? Mild ribbing and inappropriate jokes? It wasn’t exactly any of their business what the two of you were doing on the top floor, but that didn’t mean you’d needed to hide everything from them. Why had you stopped yourselves from being affectionate when around them? They were your friends. You all had inside jokes and a group chat and emoji code names. They were like a second family in a way. Even though you all enjoyed your own company, you liked each other too.

“I think… for a while we didn’t really know what was happening.” Harry finally spoke, twisting in his place. “We just started hanging out and it kinda grew from there.”

“I called this on day one, by the way.” George said smugly.

“It’s true, he did.” Abbie nodded, still smiling. “Two good-looking people at the top of the house? Recipe for heaven.”

“We’re happy it finally happened. Just… don’t hide shit like that from us. We’re all friends.” George was back to scowling.

“Friends.” Rhys cooed, like Jay from The Inbetweeners.

“Anyway, now that’s all out there, can we start the film please? Or it’s gonna be my bedtime.” Abbie flailed her hand around.

The movie started, everyone settled into their places, and you managed to find a comfortable position against Harry’s side.

Even though you chatted along with conversations and laughed at the telly, Harry knew something was off. You were still tense, and you didn’t touch him like you normally would. He wanted you in his arms, not pushed awkwardly against his side. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were uncomfortable displaying affection in front of other people, but whatever it was he wanted to make it go away.

He shifted at one point in an attempt to wrap an arm around your middle, but instead you moved further away. That utterly terrified him.

As the movie credits rolled, everyone started to move, ready to get to bed for the night. Except you.

“Guys,” You said, quiet as a mouse, but everyone heard you. Because you never stopped anyone for anything, “can we all have a chat?”

Dread nestled itself into Harry’s stomach. A chat? About what? Everyone? Why did everyone have to be present? What was going on?

The housemates sat back down, if a little tentatively, gazes wary. You finally gave Harry your attention, if only fleetingly with a worried smile.

“Are you alright?” Abbie asked and pulled your hand into hers.

Harry leaned forwards.

“You’ll all be getting an email tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you in person.” You licked your lips, stare heavy on the stone floor of the living room. “Dad is selling the house.”

A little piece of your heart broke that evening when your dad told you his plans to sell. It was a place that you had such an odd relationship with, because while it cost a lot of money and caused a lot of financial problems, it also brought you a family you never asked for and a man you never dreamed of having.

You knew your dad would try and hold onto it as long as he possibly could because it had become your home, and he’d been in bits over dinner as he broke the news. He cried, so you cried, and then your sister cried, too. Everyone had been a mess.

“What?” George said, dumbfounded. Hell, everyone was dumbfounded.

“It’s the last thing he wanted to do, but it’s kind of burning a hole in his pocket and we can’t afford it anymore. Between the leaking second floor and dodgy plumbing there’s also woodworm and stone repairs and all sorts of other crap I don’t want to bore you with.”

“You found this out today?” Abbie asked, bottom lip trembling.

“Yeah, an hour or so ago. I’m really sorry, guys.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rhys frowned.

Abbie crawled across the small gap between her and you and wrapped her arms around you. “We get it. It’s old, it’s a bit rickety and it needs a lot of TLC. We all know your dad gave it all the care he could afford and it’s okay that he can’t afford it anymore.”

“How long do we have to find new places?” George asked, biting his lip.

“As long as it takes to sell. Given the condition of the place it could be fuckin’ ages.” You managed a laugh.

“If your dad needs us to do anything, he just needs to let us know. And we’ll make sure it’s tidy as fuck for viewings and shit.”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

The housemates starting shifting again, collecting up their bits and leaving with softly spoken good nights. You still didn’t move, and neither did Harry. After a quiet minute or so, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What are you thinking?” He asked in a gravelly whisper.

You took a deep breath, nibbling away at your lower lip. “That I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Mhm.”

“Scared about what?”

You turned to face him, cataloguing every crease of worry on his handsome face. “Us. What this means for us.”

He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “What do you think it means for us?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m scared it means the end, when I don’t want it to. I’m scared that what we’ve been doing is just… convenient? And now that we have to leave it won’t be so convenient anymore and it will be over.”

“You don’t want it to be over.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. Not even a little bit. I… I don’t want a night without you ever again. I can sleep with you around. I can breathe. I need to breathe, and I can’t do that without you. And part of me hates that I need you, but I do, and the rest of me that doesn’t hate it tells me to fuck everything to the wind. Because it’s not just need, it’s also a want. I just want you around, like you have been. Presence is such a funny thing when it comes from different people, but yours… I like yours. A lot.”

Harry spoke your name in a low voice, gaze on your mouth as he smoothed his thumb across your lower lip, “I don’t want it to be over, either.” He meets your gaze again, cool, calm and collected. “I really hoped it wouldn’t be at any stage ever, least not because we have to leave the house and find another one. I’ve been living with you for three fucking years and I also don’t want to have to spend a night where you don’t live with me. Hell, it’s not even a fucking option. I know you love this place because it’s your family’s, but I don’t care where we live as long as we do it together. I’ve been looking at other places since the day I moved in, and the only reason I haven’t bothered to leave is because you kept me here, whether you meant to or not. And now we have to leave, and I’m sure as shit gonna take you with me, because I can’t live without you.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then launched into his arms, tackling him into the sofa. You peppered his face with kisses until he caught your lips and held you there, happy in the knowledge that you needed each other and that was absolutely fucking okay.

“You’re special to a lot of people, but especially to me.” Harry mumbled into your lips. “I’m selfish enough to not let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Good.”

You remained in the lounge for a little while longer, wrapped up in one another, until movement began upstairs and you decided it was probably time to head upstairs to bed. Before you made it to the stairs, Rhys and George appeared in front of you. Rhys looked apprehensive and George looked irritated he’d been dragged out of his room again.

“What’s going on?” You asked, cocking your head.

“Abbie’s in the loo so I’m gonna make this real quick before she comes back.” Rhys threw a wary glance over his shoulder. “I need your help.”

Every morning was the same.

This week it had been, anyway. You woke up with the sunrise, wrapped in Harry’s arms, and you listened to his heartbeat and his unconscious breathing for a blissful twenty minutes before his alarm went off. Then he’d fall out of bed with a reluctant yawn, mooch his way around the room and disappear into the bathroom to get ready for work.

Upon reappearing he’d head to the kitchen to make a coffee and leave a cup of tea on your bedside table, then a kiss on your lips, and then you’d watch the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ leave your apartment from the comfiest spot in the bedroom.

Today was the same, but different. He wasn’t going to work today, and neither were you. It meant longer in bed, with enough time for sexy shenanigans, then he’d make for the bathroom, bring you tea afterwards and breakfast.

You spent the day in bed, right up until 5 o’clock when you had to get up and go out to give your keys back.

Yes, your dad had managed to sell the house. It had taken a while, but it got there. The new owners were moving in tomorrow, and you’d all arranged to meet your dad and your sister there to do a final ‘handover’.

George had moved into a studio flat in the centre of town but spent most of his nights at his boyfriend’s place. Rhys and Abbie had finally bought that house they always wanted, out of town but easy to travel into. And you and Harry also had your own place, still renting and in the city, but it was yours together, and that was all you wanted.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked as you walked up to the front of old Blackpool Tower.

“I’m not the one that needs to be nervous.” You shrugged, even if you had been the one to help Rhys with most of the planning.

He’d been a lot of work over the past few weeks. After he initially asked for your help he spent so long searching for the damn jewellery he forgot about the rest of it. You had reminded him on many occasions that it didn’t need a big song and dance, but he insisted, because he wanted it in the house you’d all shared with her favourite people to witness it.

The garden was lit up in the early evening with fairy lights and candles. George, your sister and your dad were already at the far end waiting for Rhys and Abbie to arrive. You gave over your keys - dad had the house professionally cleaned even though you had offered, because it was too big a task for one person.

Blackpool Illuminations

Rhys We’re nearly there…

Yes, Rhys had really named the group chat for the planning committee ‘Blackpool Illuminations’.

You stood next to your sister who wrapped herself around your middle, and Harry kept hold of your free hand.

“I hope she says no.” Your sister said, and Harry snorted. “Just for a laugh.”

“I don’t think Abbie has it in her to say no to Rhys.” You mused.

Five minutes later the couple in question turned up. Abbie had no idea what was going on, obviously. She’d been told they were going for dinner and then for a walk. The walk was always supposed to end here, at the old house.

Abbie gasped at the sight before her, hands on her mouth as she moved through the garden. “What’s going on?”

Behind her, Rhys swiftly dropped to one knee and presented the ring he’d spent months agonising over. “Abbie,”

You all watched and listened as Rhys spent five minutes talking about how perfect his girl was for him. It was very typical Rhys - overboard and unnecessarily long. Most things maybe could’ve been kept for his wedding vows.

Just as your sister was about to explode from restlessness, Rhys finally asked, “Will you marry me?”

“I would’ve said yes five minutes ago.” Abbie giggled, nodding, and held her left hand out.

George and your sister started hollering, your dad was pretending not to cry, and you fell into Harry’s hold again, watching the happy couple with a warm smile.

“I hope to God they don’t ask me to help plan the actual wedding.”

Harry chuckled and pressed his lips into your temple. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

Your sister presented herself in front of you with an assured look on her face. “When are you two getting engaged, then?”

Harry choked behind you, and you gave your sister a bewildered look. “Reel it in, please.”

“What?” She shrugged. “Being in love suits you. A wedding would really suit you.”

“A wedding isn’t something you arrange for an aesthetic, sis.” You reminded her.

“Speak for yourself, but I do recommend heavily considering it.”

After she turned away, Harry lowered his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

You tightened his arms around you. “One day.” You said with a kiss to his palm.

His smile imprinted on your cheek. “One day.”

~.~.~.~.~

Thank you so v much for reading if you make it this far. It’s a long one, I know. The longest one shot I’ve actually ever done. Much love to you <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles smut imagines #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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visionofhope04 · 5 months

Note

Here for the angst of neglected batsis, imagine or hc them of moving out if the house when they are 18 and let's say they meet some spirit and they have their memory wiped and transfer to the marvel universe to restart their life and more happy, then the dc/marvel merge together because of a big threat and batfam sees batsis is heavily pregnant and married to our favorite deadpool charater Colossus?

How would they reached if batsis just can't remember them and keeps on telling them they have the wrong person?

I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK. Guess who's back!! Sorry it took me so long to get this out, I haven't had the motivation to write until recently. Also OOC warning bc I don't really know him well besides the Deadpool movies. I almost freaked out bc I haven't used the tumblr website in so long and it got updated so I thought I lost all my drafts. So glad they're still here, whew. Not beta read so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!

---

It's been a year since moving into your apartment and you couldn't be happier. College was going well and you were taking classes you enjoyed. However, you haven't made any friends yet which led you to spend your free time reading or surfing the web. Jason didn't come by much due to having his own life and vigilante things, which you understood. It didn't mean you couldn't be a little bit sad about it though.

Even though you were enjoying your life, you still felt as if there was something missing. You'd been trying to figure out why you had felt this way but nothing came to mind. Any time you tried to brush off the feeling, it came back stronger. You did your best to ignore it and continue on with life, but it was always there, nagging you.

It had been a long day. College was so stressful. Your professors kept hurling projects at you that had deadlines that were practically impossible to meet. You just wanted it to end already and be on summer break. Then, you’d be able to sleep how long you wanted to without the fear of being late for class or forgetting to complete an assignment.

You sat down at your desk and pulled out your laptop, preparing to continue an essay that was due in three days. Suddenly, you began to feel nauseous. Confused, you attempted to ignore the feeling in favor of completing the essay. A few seconds after trying to focus on your laptop screen, you saw a bright light.

"My child, you will be saved from this life." A strangely comforting voice said.

Then everything faded to black.

---

"Hello?!"

A voice. A voice? But you live alone and no one has the spare key to your apartment. You slowly opened your eyes, groaning and quickly shutting them again once a bright light blinded you.

"Oh you're alive, thank God. Can you speak?" Whoever this was seemed to have been panicking before, slightly less though now that you had indicated you were alive. You groan as you push yourself up off of what seems to be concrete. Concrete? You're definitely not in your apartment. You crack your eyes open again, this time with less difficulty, and come face to face with white lenses of a mask. Blinking again, you register that the lenses are attached to a red material with black lines.

"Ah!"

"AH!" The figure yells and jumps back, startled by your sudden surprise.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" You asked, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"What do you mean? I'm Spiderman." His voice was a bit high pitched, he sounded like a teen at most.

"Spiderman? You've got to be joking. There is no Spiderman. Go home kid, crime fighting isn't a game." Sure, you may be a hypocrite, seeing as you are an ex-assassin who began learning how to kill at around 5, but at least you had training. What did this Spiderman have? From how startled he was, you assumed he had barely been trained, if at all.

“What? I'm literally Spiderman! I'm Queens' hero!"

"Queens, New York?" You thought you'd still be in New Jersey at least.

"Uh yeah. I don't think there are any other places called Queens that have a Spiderman."

"Again, Spiderman? Seriously? You couldn't think of a better name at least?"

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with Spiderman!"

"Sure kid, keep telling yourself that."

He was about to protest when suddenly, someone else dropped into the alley.

"Hey Spidey, who's this lovely lady?" A person in an all red with black suit with two swords on his back and guns strapped to his waist called out. The person seemed to be a male, around 30 years old.

"This 'lovely lady' is very confused. Who are you?" They keep multiplying, and you'd never seen this person either.

"Did you hit your head or something? You've never heard of or seen Deadpool? The most handsomest, most awesomest, funniest, killer crime fighter?"

"Uh nope. Also, I'm from Jersey, how did I end up here?"

"Good question. What's your name?"

"Oh, it's-" You stopped in confusion. "I actually don't remember. It was just at the tip of my tongue but I don't remember."

"Oh great! Amnesia! Just what we need. I'll let you handle her Spidey and I'll go stop some bad guys, 'kay?"

"What! No, don't leave me here!" Deadpool was already sprinting away.

"Let's get you to the base. Colossus and the others will know what to do."

---

They did not, in fact, know what to do. Colossus sent Negasonic and Yukio to contact Professor X, while Spiderman went to contact Tony Stark (I'm still emotionally scarred from Endgame so no, he won't be dead, this is my fanfic and I can keep him alive if I want to) and Deadpool went back out to patrol. You were left alone with Colossus.

Uncomfortable silence sat between you. Just as you were beginning to get antsy, Colossus broke it first.

"Do you remember anything at all?"

"I'm... a college student. I live alone in an apartment in New Jersey, I think. I used to fight crime until... I don't know, it's fuzzy. I'm an ex-assassin who has been training since I was 5. That's all I remember."

"You can remember that but not your name?"

"Look, I don't know okay? I don't know what's happening or why I can't remember anything else. I want to remember who I am, but I can't. And it's so... so frustrating! Your suspicion is understandable, but it is not helping."

"I apologize. This is a stressful situation for you. I will be more considerate."

"Thank you."

---

They could not figure out what happened to you or why you suddenly appeared in Queens one day. Your memory remained fuzzy, so you were stuck. As time passed, you and Colossus grew closer. You became so close that he told you his real name, you became a couple, and you got married. Seven years passed, you were 25 and you'd been trying for a baby. You both felt the time was right and that you'd be able to handle parenting.

Colossus came home from work one day, spent and tired. There you were, waiting for him at the door as usual.

"Hi my love, long day?" You fiddled with the positive pregnancy test behind your back.

"Yes darling, when is it not?"

"Well, we're going to have to figure something out, because there's no way I'll wake up every night to take care of our baby."

He looked confused, then realization hit. "You're..?" He looked so happy and hopeful, you couldn't contain your happiness. A huge smile lit up your face.

"Yes, we're finally going to be parents!" You pulled out the pregnancy test and held it up to him.

He laughed a joyful laugh, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes as he embraced you. It must've been infectious because you began to tear up too. You remained in each other's embrace for a while, just existing in the moment. Time felt irrelevant as you basked in your shared delight.

---

8 months later, your belly had swollen and grown. Everyone was happy for the both of you. You and Colossus were both eager for your little one to arrive. You'd both decided to wait for birth to find out the gender. It didn't matter to you whether it was a boy or girl, just that they were healthy (gender's a construct anyway). The pregnancy had been going great so far, but this time of easy-going was about to get ruined by your husband's job.

---

Your world had merged with another because of some cosmic threat. Great! Your husband would be preoccupied trying to fix the situation, which meant that you'd be alone. Selfishly, you wished that they could let your husband stay with you so close to your due date, but you knew he had a role to play in saving two worlds.

Seeing your loneliness, Colossus decided to bring you with him to the Avengers' base. He hoped you'd be able to befriend some of the people there. You entered the compound and your eyes were drawn to some men standing beside a set of double doors. They all had suits on, black hair (one guy had two white streaks in his hair) and most had blue eyes, except for one man who had green eyes. He was also noticeably the darkest of the group. They felt familiar to you, especially the man with green eyes. Have you met them before? Who were they?

As your husband was discussing some details about the meeting, you couldn't help but watch the group of men. Not knowing why you thought you knew them annoyed you. As if they could feel your eyes on them (they could), they turned around in sync and locked eyes with you.

Their eyes widened and they all exclaimed your name in various degrees of disbelief. They rushed over to you and your husband protectively stepped in front of you

"How do you know my wife?"

"Wife?!" Some of them shouted. They were beginning to cause a scene.

"You're pregnant." The one with green eyes observed. He seemed to be having some sort of crisis.

All their eyes darted to your belly, making you uncomfortable. You placed your hand over your stomach and attempted to discretely hide behind your husband. This did not go unnoticed by them.

"You don't remember us?" The shortest of them questioned.

"No, I've never met you guys." You were very confused.

The man who appeared to be the oldest said your name. You stared at him as he studied your eyes, presumably to see if you were lying. It made you feel vulnerable and unsettled, couldn't they leave you alone?

"We're your family."

The guy with the white streaks in his hair scoffed. "You didn't treat her like she was family. I was the only one who cared for her when she was younger while you all ignored her and let her suffer. I'm glad she doesn't remember what you all did to her. She's clearly living a much better life without you lot in it."

This was getting more confusing by the second, although you felt there was truth to his words. Did you forget these people? They seemed very convincing if they were lying.

"I'm sorry but I really don't remember you guys. Maybe you have the wrong person?"

"No we don't! You disappeared one day and now that we've finally found you, you're saying you forgot everything!"

"That is enough. Please leave my wife alone, she does not know you, and she does not need the unnecessary stress of trying to remember people she's never met. Do not approach her anymore." Colossus guided you away from the men, who stared longingly at you. The heartbroken expressions they had after your husband's speech would follow you often. Were you sure you'd never met them before?

---

Words: 1,847

#batfamily #batfam #batfam x reader #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #avengers x platonic reader #colossus #colossus x reader #tim drake #damian wayne #batfam x neglected!batsis!reader

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captainpulisic · 7 months

Text

darling, you’re the one I want! - m. mount

this is for my best friend in honor of her birthday (who else would get a invisible string/ timeless alluded fic?). m, thank you for being my other half, and for being the first to always read and support everything I write. we'll get mushy later, together. love, d gif credits to owner, wc 3.2 k

it’s like a scene out of a fairytale.

no, scratch that. this was better than any fairytale you had ever read as a child. all the dreamy prince charmings that you had fantasised would come and whisk you away to a castle, were nothing compared to mason. all the countless tales of romances and happily ever afters, had never prepared you for the way your heart would stutter when being in masons proximity.

it had been a beautiful day, clear skies and a cool breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees that surrounded you. tucked away from prying eyes, mason had settled this picture perfect picnic at the park not too far from your flat.

we both only get so many days off, he had squeezed your hand as he guided you through the park. we should spend it together, doing something just for us.

you couldn’t help but watch in awe as he laid out a blanket for the both of you to sit down on, carefully placing the picnic basket on the ground. he had gone all out. it was all very delicate, him being so attentive as he took out plates and utensils. then came the variety of fruits, snacks and other food for both of you to indulge in. it was all so detailed, so thoughtfully planned out.

“I broke a few wine glasses when I tried shoving them into the basket,” his cheeks tinted as he spoke. with a bashful smile and an awkward laugh, he pulled out two paper cups. “so we’re going to be using these.”

“how romantic,” you over exaggeratedly sighed, putting a hand over your heart.

“oh, you haven’t seen romance yet.” mason reverts his attention back to the basket, searching for who knows what. after a few seconds of digging through it, he pulls out a few paper straws. “a straw for the lady.”

you can’t help but snort, “i’m swooning!”

as you begin to pile an assortment of food on both your plates, mason tasks himself with filling both cups with a good amount of wine. basking in the sunlight and rejoicing in the lack of clouds, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lovely the day was.

no work, no school, no distractions. just you and mason. there was nothing that could top how at peace you felt in that exact moment.

unbeknownst to you, mason was the complete opposite. he kept hoping you wouldn’t see through his cool facade and ruin the big day he had planned. he was antsy, jittery. no matter how much wine he consumed, his nerves wouldn’t settle down. his fingers kept ghosting over the small, velvet box in his front pocket. gods, he hoped that wasn’t a dead giveaway to you.

after watching the hours waste away, you’d both found yourselves with an empty bottle of wine and full hearts and stomachs. sitting down side by side, you both had your legs stretched out, pushing past the border of the blanket. absentmindedly, you kept bumping your foot against his.

“I love this place so much,” you mused with content sigh. your hand reached out to brush the grass on your side. stealing a quick glance towards mason, your cheeks warm up when you see how focused his gaze is on you. “back when I first moved here, I used to spend hours in this park. I would walk around, lay on the grass, or just sit on a bench and wait.”

you feel silly telling him this. it was all just girlhood dreams of fairytales and prince charmings.

“wait for what?” his hand brushes yours, ever so lightly. it’s comforting and encouraging for you to continue.

“love, I guess.” it feels even sillier saying it outloud. shaking your head and letting out a self-deprecating laugh, you wave him off. oh well, if there’s one person you’d confide your childish fantasies to, it’d be mason. there’s no one else you’d trust more. you shrug, “I don’t know, I just found the idea so romantic that I'd meet the love of my life here. that, maybe, when I'd least expect it, I would bump into someone and just know that they were my soulmate. that all the waiting was worth it because they’d been out there, looking for me. and it’d be so romantic, how we were both out in the world, unaware of each other's existence, but deep down we knew we’d find each other.”

looking back at mason, you see how still he’s gotten, how quiet he’s become.

“I was on my way to you,” he says slowly, softly. you hadn’t noticed the moment he had intertwined your hands in his, yet there he was giving you reassuring squeezes. lifting it up, he leaves a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “I was looking for you.”

“you found me.” they’re shy smiles, the ones you’re giving to each other. few words said with heavy meaning behind them, it’s become sickly sweet. one last tap to his foot with your own, “and it took you long enough.”

he leans in, this kiss directed to the corner of your mouth. mumbling into your skin, “my silly girl.”

instead of replying, you give his hand one last squeeze before letting go and lying back down on the blanket. you let your eyes close as you sigh once more, “I really do love it here.”

it becomes quiet for a second. then you hear mason rustling next to you, yet you don’t bother to open your eyes. you’re too content with your position and situation. mason clears his throat but then gets quiet again. he does this two more times. my sweet boy, you’re about to blindly reach for his hand and coax him to lay down with you, when he finally speaks up.

“I know you love this place,” he takes another deep breath. you instantly hear the nervousness in his voice, “er, that’s actually why I brought you here, today.”

curiosity gets the best of you, making you peek one eye open.

big mistake. the sight that’s in front of you makes your heart do somersaults and backflips.

there mason is, your beautiful boy, down on one knee with a small box in his hand. you barely notice the box, though, too caught up in the way he’s looking at you. immediately, you’re sitting up, becoming eye level with him.

“from the very first date,” he begins. you want to make a quip about how much his hands are fidgeting, yet refrain when you realize yours are no better. he’s speaking slowly, adding emphasis to every word. “I called my mum and told her I'd found the girl I was going to marry. hell, the next time I saw the lads, I told them you were the future missus.”

you’re awestruck, “oh, mase.”

“from the beginning, I told everyone I was going to marry you one day.” his unoccupied hand reaches for yours, once again. he’s squeezing it as if his life depended on it and you reciprocate the action. “’m sorry it took me a couple years to actually keep true to my word. I just- I just wanted to become the best man I could be. I wanted to make sure I was someone who deserved to call you his wife.”

you pause for a moment, trying to process what was happening. you dig your nails into the palms of your hand, trying to stop yourself from shaking even more. the tears won’t stop from falling down your cheeks. when the fuck did I start crying? half of you wants to laugh and the other half wants to start weeping. and the many paper cups of wine you had are definitely not helping. any other day, you'd curse yourself for being so silly, but the sight of mason down on one knee has you caring about nothing but him. and the glossy eyed stare he’s giving you isn’t helping.

“you said you’d wait for your soulmate because you knew they were out there. and they were. I was.” giving him a watery smile, you nod for him to continue. every word he says tugs at your heartstrings. he’s gone onto rambling but you don’t mind because it’s all so perfect. “but the truth is, I had never really believed in soulmates. I thought it was all a load of rubbish. but meeting you and getting the chance to love you, I know I was a proper idiot. of course soulmates exist and I know you’re mine. I know we were meant to find each other. and if I was too unlucky to never have found you, I know I'd spend my whole life being miserable and wondering where you were. all this time, waiting for each other, I'd gladly wait all over again if it meant I got you in the end.”

all you can repeat through your tears, “oh mason.”

“y/n, my y/n.” he opens up the small velvet box, unveiling the prettiest ring you’d ever seen. it was perfect, and quite suitable to your taste. he knew you so well, it made you want to weep even more. looking back up at mason, you saw all the emotions he was going through. hopeful eyes looking into your lovestruck ones, “will you, please, marry me?”

both you and mason know your answer. there’s no doubt about it. nonetheless, you manage to cry out a “yes,” and an “of course, I’ll marry you.”

of course you would, there was no question about it.

yet, masons face fills up with a mixture of relief and joy. helping the both of you off the ground, he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up. spinning you around, his lips capture yours as repeatedly mumbles into your mouth thank you thank you thank you.

there’s tears and laughter and kisses and just pure happiness as you embrace each other.

pulling away, mason gets the ring out of the box, ready to finally place it on your finger. after months of looking at hundreds of rings that varied in style and cut, you were finally going to wear it and become his fiancee.

fiancee.

yes, he could get used to calling you that. well, up until he’s able to call you his wife. then he’ll never be able to stop calling you that.

what the fuck, mason frowns to himself. as he had started to slide the ring onto your finger, it became stuck. right up to the knuckle, it wouldn’t budge a millimeter.

“uhm,” he tries to laugh it off. attempting to successfully slide it on again, you can see him internally freaking out as it won’t move. “this shouldn’t be happening.”

one more try. one more failure.

beginning to profusely swear, “I can’t believe I got the wrong ring size.”

“mason, it’s oka-”

he pouts, “’m such a bloody idiot!”

“no, you’re not.”

“I am,” he deadpans.

“mason, no.”

“I can’t believe I fucked this up,” he’s stressed, running his fingers through the ends of his hair. you hate seeing him so frustrated, hate seeing how quick he is to beat himself up. the curse words are flowing like lava from his mouth. “I had one fucking job and I didn’t even do it right.”

“baby, it’s okay.” you can’t help but laugh at the situation. you’re still over the moon, with tear filled eyes over the proposal. and here he is, berating himself for such a simple mistake. trying to ease him, “it’s not your fault, i’m sure this happens all the time.”

“no, y/n. you don’t understand.” he’s frustrated, holding the too small ring between his fingers. there is nothing but disdain and disappointment in his gaze. all he can do is shake his head, “I did my research, it’s supposed to be a perfect fit.”

your arms still around him, you lean up to nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck. you know nothing can ruin how happy you are. damned be the ring, mason loved you and he wanted to marry you. who gives a fuck about anything else?

he’s rambling again, “I did everything I could. I took so many of your rings and gave them to the jeweler so he’d know your exact size. I really did plan this out.”

it should be impossible how quick your head turns to look at him, “you took my rings?”

“yeah,” he trails off, still fidgeting with the ring, too distraught to notice your questioning look.

“I told you I thought my sister kept stealing my stuff every time she came to visit and you said she probably was.”

“yeah,” now he’s looking at you like you’re the crazy one. with a puzzled expression, “and?”

“mason!” you lightly shove his shoulder, in jest. you want to be upset, but how can you be? the more bizarre this becomes, the more endearing you find it. he’d gone through so much trouble to make this as sweet as possible, it was too much for your heart.

“what?” he throws his hands up, in defense. “I did what I had to!”

you tease, “well that clearly worked out well for you.”

“y/n!” his pout gets deeper by the second, as he kicks at a tuft of grass. “don’t torture me.”

“hey,” reaching up to grasp his chin, you force him to look down at you. it's a reflex for his hands to land on your waist, instinctively pulling you closer to him. giving him a small smile, “this doesn’t matter to me. I love you and I want to marry you and be with you forever. I don’t need a ring to prove these things.”

all mason can do is sigh softly, his hands giving your waist a squeeze. meeting your eye, he feels idiotic and embarrassed all over again. looking away, “you deserve to be wearing the ring.”

“and I will wear it, eventually!” you tilt his chin, again, forcing his eyes back on you. hoping to cheer him up, “it’s okay, we can go get it resized.”

there’s a struggle, you can see, going on in his head. processing and taking all your words into consideration, you think you’ve talked him through his sorrows.

you should’ve knocked on wood. you should’ve crossed your fingers and bit your tongue. because all too soon, he’s huffing and pouting, again.

“yeah, but that’s going to take a while!” he bites his lip, and those big brown eyes give you the most dejected look known to man. “in the meantime, how are people going to know you’re my fiance? I finally put a ring on it and no one’s going to know.”

you’d laugh if you didn’t know how proper upset he was about this.

mason continues, “my mum and dad! and your mum and dad! and our friends! they all said they wanted pictures of you wearing the ring. what ring am I going to send a picture of, hm?”

your thumb had begun to leave gentle strokes on his cheek. looking over his worried face, you know you’re going to love this boy forever. after a moment of watching him go through the five stages of grief, your own face lights up. “I have an idea.”

mason pauses the existential crisis he'd been going through, slightly confused, as you kneel down to the remnants of your picnic. he watches you sort through leftover pieces of cookies and discarded orange peels, in search of something. rummaging through the knocked over paper cups, you let out a triumphant aha as you lift up two scraps of straw wrappers. his eyes never leave your hands as you, still kneeling, begin to twist them into circles- like some sort of origami project. in seconds, you're standing back up, holding two paper rings up to him, smiling hopefully, “we can use these? and now we both get a ring.”

and this is when mason knows he, truly, will love you forever. taking one of the rings from you, he kneels down one more time. as if on cue, the tears have started for both of you, again.

holding the paper ring you had made, up to you, “will you marry me?”

you laugh, gently, nodding as he slides the ring onto your finger. it’s all tears and love, “of course, I love you so much.”

he begins to kiss your hand, on the spot just above where the ring is. he leaves a trail of a few more, up and around your wrist. his lips brush over the palm of your hand, all while his eyes never leave where the ring lays. even when you softly move your hand from his grasp, he’s in awe.

“hmmm,” you let out a sigh as you stretch out your hand. mason sees the discontent look on your face, as you inspect the ring. oh no, what could he have fucked up this time? looking back at him, you put on your best poker face. pretending to yawn, “I usually prefer silver but I guess this’ll have to do.”

instead of answering you, mason pulls you down to the grass so you’re at his level, again. you’re both laughing messes, as he cups your face and brings his lips just above yours. “you like watching me suffer, pretty girl.”

“a tad bit,” is all you manage to get out before he captures your mouth in a deep kiss. it’s full of want and love and happiness. before, it could get any further, you lightly shove him away, before grabbing his hand.

with the both of you kneeling, you seize the other paper ring you had made and place it on his finger. mirroring his actions, you leave a kiss on his hand. and once more, shy kisses turn into deeper ones until you both remember that can wait for later tonight. then out come the phones and you have a little too much fun, taking pictures of the homemade rings. it’s a bit funny as you both pose for a selfie, with both paper rings being shown off. it becomes even funnier when the responses sent back from family and friends are a mixture of congratulations and confusion.

wow, you really cheaped out didn’t you, mate? ben replies in the groupchat. you have to kiss mason a few more times to stop him from texting ben to fuck off.

on the walk back to your flat, you can’t stop marveling at the rings on both your finger. it’s caused you to almost bump into a few lampposts. lucky for you, mason is always there to guide you to safety.

stopped at a crosswalk, mason turns to you. “when we tell everyone this story, can we change a few details to make it more romantic and less fucked up?”

“what are you on about?” lightly tapping his chest, “it was the most romantic proposal, ever.”

he pouts, bumping your shoulder with his, “don’t tease.”

getting on your tiptoes, placing your hands on his shoulders, you lean in for another kiss. with a serious nod, “it was more romantic than any fairytale could ever dream of being.”

feedback is always appreciated, please and thank you. once again, happy birthday to my best friend, forever looking at the moon and thinking of you.

#mason mount fic #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff

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youresodarkbabe · 24 days

Text

love like an ache in the jaw (a. turner x reader)

smut.

warnings: oral (m recieving), sub!al, reader gets called momma a bit, idk man

word count: 1.3k

fetus al <3 happy easter 🫶

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

it was a random sunday, around eleven. alex had drank his little heart out the night before and did not enjoy being woken up by erratic knocking on his apartment door. furious, he got out of bed and swung his door open, ready to scream at whoever that decided to interrupt his beauty sleep, but he certainly didn't expect to see what he saw.

every ounce of tiredness left alex's body as he saw you standing at the door, wrapped up in his black coat, holding a little bag. you laugh at his silence and walk in, sitting on the stained sofa in the middle of the flat.

"it's easter, al." you say, fidgeting with the sleeves of the coat. alex's eyes are fixated on you as he shuts the door and sits down next to you, hyperfocused on the fact that you're in his clothes.

"oh, is it? didn't know, you look lovely by the way, should wear my clothes more often. y'know, only if you, um, want to—" alex trails off, mentally slapping himself in the face for acting the way he is.

you take note of how your cheeks heat up at his flustered manner and decide it's time to show him what you were actually wearing.

you stand up and shrug off the coat, revealing a bunny costume, of sorts, complete with a little tail at the back of the bodysuit. it was a soft baby pink, but you're sure alex wouldn't be able to tell you that. all he was focused on were your tits and how they looked in the confines of the material.

"ooh, wait!" you bend down and dig through the bag, alex marvelling at your ass, and turn back to face him, putting on bunny ears.

you also pull out a box and hand it to him.

"i got you an egg. happy easter, baby."

alex smiles at the thought, a warm feeling pooling in his chest. he wasn't sure if it was due to how loved he was feeling or if it was because of how strong the need was to fuck you on the spot. maybe both?

"thank you, god, you look so good," alex stops mid sentence. "i mean the egg. looks lovely. can't wait."

alex hops onto his feet with the egg and leaves it somewhere in his tiny bedroom, hoping you didn't get a look at the massive hard on he was trying to hide.

he comes back into the room and sits down next to you again, you sit on your knees and play with his hair as you speak, one of your hands trailing down his chest, to his waist, before settling above his throbbing cock.

"so, how was last night? seemed fun."

alex opens his mouth to reply, moaning instead as you slowly start palming him through his sweats.

you kiss his shoulder, and stop moving your hand, making him whine.

"'m not gonna help you out unless you talk to me, lovey."

alex clamps his eyes shut and scrunches up his nose before letting his head rest against the back of the sofa. "last night was fun, yeah. me and nick drank a fuck ton." you smile against his neck and mumble a quick 'good boy' as your hand resumes its movements.

"i can't imagine you feel too good now, do you, honey?" you give him a fake pout as you speed up the movements of your hand. he shakes his head, his messy hair growing even messier.

"no— fuck," alex whimpers slightly, grabbing your wrist. "need your mouth."

you give alex an expectant look.

"please?"

you pretend to be offended and pull your hand off of him fully.

alex swears under his breath, his face and ears completely red.

"i need your mouth. please, momma."

his shaky voice goes straight to your pussy, you're sure you've soaked through your panties completely at this point. you flick at his belt and let him take his sweats and t-shirt off and sit back down, you settle in between his knees after.

"say please again, i liked it."

alex's hips roll into the air, you have to hold them down as the blush on his face only spreads further. alex's voice comes out as a strained whisper. how cute, you think. such a big ego for such a little man. you'd crumble those high walls eventually.

"go on, pup."

you kiss his cock through his boxers, looking up at him with doe eyes as you do so.

"please, momma, i need it."

alex looks completely defeated, and you love every second of it. you mutter another 'good boy' as you pull the waistband of his boxers and let his cock free. his tip was almost fully pink and leaking with pre-cum, practically begging for you to take him in your mouth— and you happily oblige.

you wrap your lips around the tip, moaning as you savor the familiar taste, your tongue swirling around it, flicking at the slit. alex's hips buck wildly, accidentally ramming his dick down your throat. you pull off instantly, eyes watering.

"fuck, 'm sorry, i didn't mean to— fuck."

his back arches as you take him in your mouth once more, taking as much of him as you comfortably can, stroking the rest with your hand. your head bobs up and down his length, your tongue spiraling around his thick cock as his hands come up to hold your hair as makeshift way to keep it out of your face. you try not to gag as his tip grazes the back of your throat, your nose brushing against the coarse hair that was littered around his cock.

you pull off almost completely, looking up at alex with those doe eyes again, sucking on his tip innocently as your hands continued stroking him. he was being very loud now, the thin walls of his flat meaning that his neighbors would definitely know what you two were up to. you take your mouth off of his cock, a string of spit attaching your lips to him.

"no, momma, please, 'm so close, don't stop," alex's mouth ran as if he was reciting a prayer. you keep stroking him til his cock twitches once more, cum spurting out and you try catching as much of it as you can in your mouth, just to tease him. you swallow and hold your tongue out, proving that you've swallowed every last drop that you managed to catch.

you lick his stomach and thighs clean before undoing the back of the pink bodysuit, taking off your tights, leaving yourself in your panties alone. you straddle alex, grinding against his soft, sensitive cock that you feel hardening against you.

"you think you can give me another one, hm?"

alex nods eagerly, his mouth hanging open in awe. you take the opportunity to push your finger past his lips and he sucked on it eagerly as you push your panties to the side with your free hand and let him align himself with your drenched pussy. you sink down on alex slowly, taking your time with it, letting yourself feel every vein on his cock throb against your warm walls. by the time he bottoms out, you've already attached your lips to his neck, kissing and biting wherever you can.

alex's large hands find your ass and he tries moving you, but you refuse to budge.

"momma, please," he murmured into your ear, and you comply. you bounce up and down on him, starting off slow, soon transitioning to going brutally fast. alex's eyes focus on your tits and how they move, he looks at you, practically begging, and you hum in approval, his mouth instantly going to leave sloppy kisses all over your chest as you feel that familiar knot in your stomach tighten even further. you yank on alex's hair slightly as you moan obscenely loud as his cum paints your walls. alex's rough fingers rub against your clit violently and you cum soon after he does, grabbing his neck and forcing him into a kiss so that your sounds would be muffled, even if barely.

alex pulls away and buries his head in your neck due to sheer embarrassment.

"that's a good way to start the day, hm?"

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

#cookie cooks #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner fanfic #smut #alex turner fic #fetus era smut #happy easter i guess...#youresodarkbabe #ignore this if it's late oops

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ecoamerica · 20 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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sanguineterrain · 7 months

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What about a Jason x Reader drabble where they were close friends before he died and they reunite years later, changed and burdened but still equally fond of each other? I know you could write that beautifully heartbreakingly or on the contrary, very softly and warmly :)

oh, you *debby ryan hair tuck* you nonnies flatter me 🥰 thanks for requesting! please heed the warnings, this one is technically a happy ending but it's a heavy one!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: reader doesn't know what's real, reader thinks they're dreaming and tries to jump off a railing (but they're okay), grief, angst, jason coming back from the dead, emotional hurt/comfort.

I rb all fics to @sanguinelibrary | requests are still open

****

He's on your terrace.

You walk forward, and Jason promptly puts distance between you. He looks stricken, like he's looking at a ghost.

He's not the Jason you usually see in these dreams. This Jason is what could've been.

This Jason is saved.

"Hi, Jason," you say. "Jaybird. Robin."

Jason exhales like you've punched him. He's dressed differently than he usually is in your dreams. Usually, he's in his Robin suit. Sometimes he's in his funeral suit, and his face is battered, and his bones jut out at odd angles. And he looks at you with hollowed out eyes and asks why you killed him, over and over.

"You look different," you say.

Jason huffs. It sounds wet. With blood or tears, you're not sure. It's always one or the other in your dreams.

"Yeah," he says, and God, even his voice is different than usual. When he begs you to finish the job. When he hurls blame at you.

You deserve it. You're not sure you can take it from this version of him, though. You're trying to remember where you saw a man with Jason's face that your brain used to conjure up this twisted dream.

"I think I'll jump this time," you say, gazing at the terrace railing behind him.

Jason flinches, eyes wide. "What? Don't do that."

You hum. "'S okay, Jay. I love seeing you, but I've been terribly tired this week. I don't want to watch you die again. I'd rather wake up."

He makes a small, wounded noise.

"God, what did I do to you?" he asks.

"It's alright," you say. If Jason starts to panic, the nightmares will come. And it's cruel now, seeing Jason like this, seeing what could've been. But at least he's not dead. Yet.

You start to move to the terrace. You want the dream to end.

Jason steps in front of you. His face is young, probably your age, but his body is older, powerful. His muscles are nearly the size of your head. He's so healthy and strong tonight.

"You're... you're so big," you whisper, marveling over his height and bulk.

Jason had been lithe and small when you knew him. You were certain he'd turn out like Dick, and you suggested learning gymnastics.

Jason would grumble at that, but you knew he adored it whenever Dick gave him the time of day.

He hunches now, acutely aware of his size. His knees are bent slightly, and his hands are clasped together, like he's trying not to tower over you.

The thought makes you ache. Does Jason think you're afraid of him?

"Don't jump," he says firmly.

"Okay," you say. You'll do it when he's distracted. The dream will take a turn soon.

You step forward again, arms falling open. Jason was never one for hugs, but surely he'd make an exception this time, right? You haven't seen him in so long.

But Jason steps back. You stop.

"Jason," you say, voice small. "I don't get to see you much. Will you hug me?"

"I..." The word is weak in his throat. His voice is different. Deeper. Rougher. You think about him screaming, and you shake your head to dismiss that thought.

Jason swallows. "I came back wrong."

"No, you didn't," you say. "It's never wrong if you came back."

He winces. "It is. I am. I'm... You've got a good thing going. A good life. You're goin' to college and everything. I-I shouldn't have come here."

"No, Jason, you won't ruin anything. I'm glad you're here. Please let me touch you. I've missed you so much," you beg, slightly hysterical.

You step forward again. This time, Jason doesn't move away. He lets you trace his sharp jaw, his cheeks. Green eyes bore into you. That's weird. His eyes were blue. As blue as Bruce's.

Oh, well. Your brain must be using details from whoever you saw that resembled Jason.

"This is nice," you say, and finally wrap your arms around him.

A beat passes, and then Jason hugs you back. His embrace is careful, and it's almost funny, the thought of Jason needing to be delicate with you. You don't laugh, though. You're too tired for that.

"Okay," you say, because you have a feeling things are going to turn dark. That you'll pull back and find that you've been hugging a corpse.

The cold railing digs into your spine. You smile at Jason.

"It was good to see you," you say.

And then you fall.

You wait for the drop in your stomach, to jerk awake in your bed.

Instead, Jason lunges after you and hauls you back onto the terrace. He's shaking. A breeze blows gently and ruffles his hair.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he shouts.

His arms are tight around your waist. Your heart starts to pound.

"You caught me," you say. Your brain feels like sludge. "You never catch me."

Jason moans like he's mourning. Like you're the one who died and came back to haunt him.

"God, I'm so sorry," he says, choked. "Fuck, I am so fucking sorry. I should've stayed dead."

"No," you say softly. "No. This isn't real. You're not real."

"I am, sweetheart. I—"

"No," you say again, panic rising. "You're not real. Jason Todd is dead."

Jason takes your hand and places it on his chest. His heart beats. You scream.

"Shh, it's alright," he says, tears running down his cheeks. "It's okay, it's okay—"

"You died, you died! I killed you, I killed you!" you scream, pushing at his chest. "I killed you!"

"You didn't kill me. Please, listen to me. It's-it's okay." He pulls you into his chest and tries to keep you still. You thrash, but Jason just holds you, crying into your shoulder.

"No, no, no, not again, don't leave me again," you yell, voice cracked with grief. "Not again, I can't survive losing you again. Let me wake up, wake up!"

"You're awake. I'm here. I'm here. I'm alive. Hold me. Prove that I'm real."

You squeeze him as hard as you can. You rake your nails down his neck, trying to make him disappear. Jason just hugs you tighter.

"Am I dead?" you ask, and Jason gasps.

"No, you're alive. We're both alive. Okay? Okay? Say it. Tell me I'm alive."

"You're alive," you say. "You're alive. I'm alive."

He nods and buries his nose in your neck. You grab handfuls of his shoulders, ready to wake up any second. Maybe you can take him back with you.

"Jason Todd is alive," you say, and hope to God you'll wake up to that being true.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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magpie-murder · 5 months

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marvel (mostly asgard) dashboard simulator part 2

also i said this in the tags on the first post but i know this is ooc, it's just for shits and giggles

10 notes

📦 markets-merchants Follow

Just saw this... Hey @g𝚘d-of-thunder, are you okay?

🪐 aesir-patriotism Follow

Not every thunderstorm is because Thor is upset.

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Some are because I'm excited.

#i'm doing okay

4,872 notes

🪐 aesir-patriotism Follow

I can't believe that I have to say this, but the @is-odin-dead-yet blog is so disrespectful. He gave his eye to have the knowledge to protect us, and this is how you treat him? By counting down to his death, for centuries? Get a hobby

🧝🏻‍♀️ amora-enchantricks

This you OP?

🪐 aesir-patriotism Follow

So? What about it?

👴🏻 is-odin-dead-yet

🪐 aesir-patriotism

Stop

🔮 alchemist-aura Follow

🌌 billykaplan666 Follow

🪐 aesir-patriotism

Stop. I'm serious. It's NOT FUNNY

🐍 magic-theatre

# yes it is.

203 notes

✨️ the-dashingest

What's a DILF?

✨️ the-dashingest

Just read the replies. Thank you for the explanation. I think I love mortals

103 notes

🌈 all-seeing-eye

It's useless to ask me for the URL of Prince Loki's secret blog. I may see all, but it is a secret held by a prince, and thus would be treason for me to reveal it.

🐍 magic-theatre

heimdall, this is FASCINATING. i love that this counts as a royal secret.

🌈 all-seeing-eye

I do not.

622 notes

⚔️ aesir-warrior-tournament

FINAL ROUND

⛈️ god-of-thunder

I won't choose.

🔮 alchemist-aura Follow

i can't believe you're pitting two bad bitches against each other

🪓 valiant-festivals

Baldur is part of the royal family, impervious to harm, as well as kind, brave, caring, just, and true. Vote for Sif!

✨️ the-dashingest

She's not even going to care if she wins, but I'm voting for her anyway.

#lady sif propaganda #friendship is magic

🔮 alchemist-aura Follow

just found out from a friend that a lot of mortals see ravens as a bad omen and a sign of death instead of wisdom lol. maybe the reason odin doesn't want anything to do with midgard is because they don't like his creepy little bird spies

🔮 alchemist-aura Follow

prince loki just silent reblogged this?

#huginn and muninn slander

768 notes

🐍 magic-theatre

oh come on. it's only been up for half an hour and they already censored the post?

🧝🏻‍♀️ amora-enchantricks

Don't let them silence you. Post it again.

#some enchantricks ship at the bottom there ✨️#dashboard simulator #amora the enchantress #loki of asgard #thor #thor odinson #loki marvel #marvel thor #brodinsons #the warriors three #lady sif #fandral the dashing #odin allfather #marvel

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megalony · 2 months

Text

You Need To Choose

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, requested by anon. I love writing tropes like this so thank you for sending it in and I hope you will all like it. Feedback always makes my day.

Buck Masterlist

Summary: Evan saves a woman who then becomes very attached to him. While he is at work, she visits his home and takes his pregnant wife hostage.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh God, why was she back again?

Her smile did something to unnerve Evan, although he wasn't altogether sure why. It was the way she looked at him, like there was some kind of aura around him that nobody else had. It unsettled him, it made him panicked and uneasy and unsure about how to act or what to do.

Evan could feel his hands suddenly start to drag up and down his thighs in an anxious habit that reminded him of (Y/n). He didn't realise how many of her anxious traits he had too until he noticed the way (Y/n) would fidget or cling to him when she was nervous or ready to go home if they were out somewhere.

"Hi Buck,"

He fought hard to smile and try to be polite. It wouldn't be kind if he stared at her blankly or let his unease become visible.

"Hi… are you okay? Can I help you with something?"

Evan tucked his hands into his pockets as he stood in front of her but kept a safe distance of three feet between them.

This marked the third time Cara had come by the station and the second time, Evan had been lucky enough to be out on a call. She was only stopping by to talk to him, she didn't want to see any of the team. She asked for him the first time she popped round and she came to say thank you.

It had been very sweet, not many people willingly came by the station to thank any of the team when they helped people out of bad situations. They said thank you on the scene but never followed up and it was nice for Evan to see Cara was doing well. He often wondered about the people they saved, if they were okay, if they were happy or struggling. If they remembered the people who came to help them.

The second time, Evan had been uneasy when Chimney told him Cara came by again but left when she was told Evan was out.

Now she was back again, and Evan couldn't see why. She had thanked him the first time and he told her it was his job, he didn't do this for praise although it was lovely of her to stop and say thank you.

She had been trapped in a crumbling building when the team turned up at the scene and Cara had been seconds away from crashing through a window and falling to her death when Eddie and Evan got there. Evan went down on a rope and managed to grab her before she fell. He could see how it would shake her up and make her grateful, but he couldn't see why she would come back again and again to thank him when she didn't have to.

"I'm a lot better now, thank you. I thought I'd stop by and give you these."

Evan had been preoccupied wondering why she was here and missed the tuppaware box she had in her hands. When he leaned forward, he realised she had made some sort of cake.

The team got a lot of food, mainly chocolates or baked goods to say thank you and that was usually around Christmas or Easter.

Evan wasn't used to getting gifts from the people they saved, a polite thank you and a hug was always more than enough for him. He got enough gifts from the team and his family on special occasions. The last gift he got was (Y/n)'s gift on his birthday telling him he was going to be a dad. That had given him a whole new high he never felt before.

"Thank you," He tried his best to smile and took the box when she suddenly thrust it into his hands. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's the least I could do for my hero."

He could feel his smile fading away when she reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him into a hug.

He usually gave small hugs on the scene after saving someone, not weeks later when they came by to say thank you. He wasn't sure what to do. It wouldn't do him good to stand like an uncomfortable statue but he also didn't want to hug her as if they were good friends or give her the wrong impression. Evan was big on hugs and physical contact but only with close friends and family.

He was always messing about with Bobby and Eddie but they were more like family. Evan didn't do so well with strangers.

"Okay… take care." His smile was definitely more forced this time and looked more like a grimace when Cara finally let him go when she seemed to realise he wasn't hugging her back.

It wouldn't be professional to hug her back. He hadn't done anything to warrant a hug, he saved her almost three weeks ago and she said thank you on the scene. She wasn't a friend, she wasn't family or someone Evan knew well enough to have physical contact with. And he was married. He didn't want nor need to be hugging her.

As soon as she left the station, Evan turned around and let his shoulders deflate. He sighed and gritted his teeth as he looked over towards Hen who was checking the inventory in the ambulance.

"What'd you get?"

"Cake, I think." He hoped.

"Taking it home for (Y/n)?" She poked her tongue out between her teeth and grinned widely but the grin started to slip when Evan shook his head and frowned like she'd just insulted him. "You get given cake- something your extremely pregnant wife loves, and you're not taking it home for her?"

"Not when I don't know who's made it." Evan brought the tuppaware box up to his eyes and squinted through the plastic. "I don't know what's in it, I'm not risking giving that to (Y/n). Do you want it?"

He could see the wheels turning in Hen's mind and she hummed, pursing her lips as she suddenly agreed with him.

It was a lovely gesture, but Evan didn't know Cara. He didn't know if she would lace the cake like one woman had done with the brownies she sent in. Evan didn't know if she would drug the cake or add some strange ingredient. It was too risky to take home to (Y/n) when Evan got a bad vibe from Cara as it was. He wasn't giving her food baked by a stranger.

(Y/n) was nine months pregnant, Evan wouldn't risk giving her something that might make her sick. He'd rather play it safe and buy her cake on the way home from shift.

"Erm, maybe not."

Evan nodded her way before he walked towards the stairs and on his way past, he tossed the box in the bin. It was a kind gesture, but he wasn't eating it and Bobby had rules. No food or drink to be accepted from strangers. It didn't matter how kind they were or what lovely intentions they had, no one should accept food. Only close friends and family could bake goods and bring them into the station.

And something told Evan not to try that cake.

***

"What are you doing?"

A gasp burned past (Y/n)'s lips and her left hand clutched the curtain rail while she flapped her right hand out. She grabbed Evan's shoulder to steady herself when she suddenly felt his hands tightly digging into her hips and his chest press up against her hips and bum.

"Evan don't do that!" She bashed her hand against his chest before she moved back to clutching his shoulder when she wobbled.

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she scowled down at her husband while he pressed his chin against her hip and stared up at her with that stern expression that made her weak at the knees. She slowly let go of the curtain rail and shuffled around on the stool until she was fully facing Evan.

Her hands held his shoulders as she hunched over in a silent plea for him to help her down.

"The curtain came down again, I was putting it back up." She mumbled when Evan locked his arms in place and kept her stood high up above him. She watched him tilt his head forward and press his lips against her bump while his hands curved round from her hips to hold the back of her waist.

He let her lean her weight down onto him and slowly eased her down until she was safely back on her feet. (Y/n)'s hands stayed on Evan's shoulders and she tilte dher head back to look up at him.

"And you thought giving me a heart attack was worth it?" His eyes darted between (Y/n) and the curtain until she leaned forward and buried her face in his chest.

He peered into the nursery and saw her standing on a stool, leaning heavily on the window. And from his angle, it looked like she was unsteady and about to fall. Evan didn't need that kind of panic when he was already on edge as it was. He had one more week of work and (Y/n) was bang on nine months now. Her due date was next week and Evan was panicking that she was going to go into labour while he was at work.

He didn't need to walk round the house and see her daring to stand on a stool like that and risk a fall.

"I've done it now, I was fine until you scared me."

"Well next time just tell me rather than risking a fall." Evan was taller, he could reach the curtain rail without straining or going on his tiptoes. (Y/n) didn't have to do it by herself when she could just tell him and he would sort it.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders and she tilted her head back so her chin was tucked into the middle of his chest. The way she batted her lashes at him made Evan's chest tighten and she knew she had won him over when his stern look faded into a soft smile.

"How do you feel today?" He let his hand slide down to cradle her stomach and his head tilted to the side. They both knew what he was actually asking.

(Y/n) looked down and let her fingers glide down Evan's arm until she cupped his wrist.

"Just kicking, they're not coming today. You can relax, baby Buckley is staying put for today." Her thumb smoothed across the back of Evan's hand which she moved to the lower right side of her stomach so he could feel a small kick.

She wasn't feeling any strange movements or feeling the baby turning round yet. No more lower back pain than usual and no dull aches or cramps anywhere that would imply labour. They still had a few more days or even a week left. Evan could go to work calm, knowing he wasn't going to miss anything today.

"Good. You're not allowed to go into labour without me."

"I know, but I'm not holding out much longer. The baby might not be ready, but I am."

"Just three more shifts, baby girl. Wait three more shifts, for me, please?" Evan lifted his hand to cup her chin and tilted her head back while he smoothed his thumb across her lower lip that he pinched to watch her take a sharp breath.

He knew (Y/n) was getting restless. He hadn't known her take so many baths as she had in the last three months, but it was where she felt most comfortable and where the baby seemed to settle and sleep. (Y/n) was tired. She thought she would of had the baby by now, she thought she wouldn't make it to her due date. But the baby seemed very comfy and cosy and (Y/n) was getting fed up of waiting.

Evan, on the other hand, was somehow containing his excitement. He had agreed with Bobby to work right up until (Y/n)'s due date because it gave him an extra two weeks off after the baby was born. Rather than taking time off in the lead up to the birth. He would rather work until (Y/n) had the baby and then he could have a few straight weeks off to be home and help her with the baby.

He had barely taken any annual leave this year so he had a lot stored up that he could take when the baby was born in case (Y/n) or the baby were ill or needed him. Or in case he had a hard time going back to work, he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to settle back at work and leave his family at home.

"Sweet-talker," (Y/n) muttered quietly before she pushed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He enticed a gasp from her lips when he sank his teeth into her bottom lip so he could swipe his tongue past her lips. (Y/n) could feel his hand tightening in the back of her shirt and he tugged her closer until she was tightly meshed against his front.

"You'll be late."

"Hm," He grinned and panted against her lips as his nose brushed against hers until she shook her head when it started to tickle. "You call me if you need me, even if you just feel sick. I've always got my phone on me now and if you can't get hold of me, call Bobby."

"I promise." Her lips attached to the side of his neck and she curled her arms around his shoulders to pull him down to her. Her face buried into his shoulder and she could feel his chest vibrating with a chuckle.

(Y/n) seemed to be promising Evan every shift that she would call him if she needed anything. She never did. Maddie was always popping round to check in and make sure she was alright when she knew Evan was at work and so far (Y/n) had been fine. But she knew Evan had cleared it with Bobby for (Y/n) to be able to get hold of him because if she needed him, he had to be able to answer.

Her hands trailed to his shoulders and she leaned back when Evan bent forward and pressed his lips against her stomach. His hand slipped beneath her shirt to dance across her skin because he knew it made her shimmy and squirm.

"Be good. Don't make an appearance until daddy comes home."

When Evan felt a kick near his lips, he grinned. (Y/n) tangled her fingers through his curls and steadily stroked them towards the back of his head while she rolled her eyes.

"They're definitely going to be a daddy's child."

***

"Hello?" (Y/n) tightened her hand around the door handle and tried to form a calm smile when she opened the door.

She wasn't expecting visitors today, she wasn't even sure that Maddie would stop by today or if she was at work. (Y/n) had been expecting to spend another calm day at home and tuck herself up in bed until Evan came home later on tonight.

(Y/n) didn't recognise the woman on the other side of the door. She had shoulder-length gritty blonde hair that was slightly damp from the hot weather and it made her hair curl and crimp at the ends. She had one hand curled around her bag on her shoulder and the other was planted firmly on her hip.

Whoever she was, she didn't seem happy to see (Y/n) opening the door. Had she gotten the wrong address? Was she looking for a friend or family?

"Who are you?" Her demanding question took (Y/n) by surprise and the smile faded from her lips as she clung a bit tighter to the door. It should be (Y/n) saying that, not whoever this woman was.

"I-"

"Where's Buck, is he home?"

The way she leaned to try and peer around (Y/n) into the house made a shiver crawl down (Y/n)'s spine.

So whoever she was, she clearly had the right address. She was looking for Evan. (Y/n) dared not think why this woman was looking for him, she seemed rather put-out at seeing (Y/n) instead. And the way she was tapping her foot against the doorstep made (Y/n) uneasy, it was like (Y/n) was wasting her time.

"He's at work right now… can I help you? I'm his wife." It seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and braced her left hand out on the wall when the woman in front of her took a stumbling step backwards. It was as if (Y/n) had gone and slapped her.

Who was she? How did she know Evan but not know that he was married? He wore a silver band on his ring finger for God's sake, that was a big giveaway. His lockscreen was a picture of them when they were on holiday and his home screen was a more daring picture of (Y/n) that not many people saw or noticed.

Evan didn't hide the fact that he was married, he told just about anyone and he had been high as a kite these last few months at the notion of being a father. His friends were mainly the people he worked with and the few friends he knew from college. All of whom (Y/n) had met and gone out with on quite a few occasions.

Their circle of friends was close-knit, small and secure. And this woman was not a part of that circle.

"His- no, he's not married." Cara's hand tightened on her hip and she tried to smirk, but the look faded again when (Y/n) simply frowned.

"Excuse me?"

(Y/n) could feel her annoyance beginning to build up like a fire ebbing away at her and growing with each passing second. She was tired, she wanted to go to bed and lie down and dwindle away the hours until Evan came home. The last thing (Y/n) wanted was an argument on her own doorstep because some derranged woman had turned up out of the blue.

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm his wife. He isn't here, do you want me to call him?" (Y/n) wasn't playing this silly game. She didn't have to prove that she was married to Evan. It was up to this woman to explain what she wanted Evan for and either call him herself or leave.

(Y/n) leaned her weight on the wall when the baby started to move and press down on her hips.

But when she watched the way the stranger in front of her suddenly stared down at her stomach, (Y/n) felt like wishing the ground to swallow her whole. She could feel the daggers burning into her stomach and the woman's face turned a dark shade of red like the epitome of anger was right here in front of her.

The silence was unbearable, until (Y/n) strained hard to hear what this woman was suddenly muttering under her breath. Then, (Y/n) was suddenly desperate for the silence to come back.

"Pregnant? You're having his kid? You can't be. You can't be."

It was like those were the only words this woman could comprehend and it made (Y/n) shiver.

Was this the lady who kept turning up at the station? Evan mentioned a woman kept stopping by even after she thanked him and the team for saving her. (Y/n) didn't think anything of it because Evan didn't seem to elaborate or make much of a fuss.

"I think you need to leave now."

"I'm not going anywhere!"

(Y/n) shuddered and quickly backed up when the woman smashed her hand out into the door and slammed it so violently it hit the wall and rebounded into (Y/n)'s arm. She felt a bolt of electricity shooting down her elbow towards her hand that spasmed in pain but she swallowed down a cry.

There was no time for (Y/n) to try and slam the door shut, let alone think about locking the door to keep herself and her baby safe.

Before she could move, the woman was over the threshold and pushing her way into the house.

(Y/n) tried to bash her hands out but she recoiled her hands to her chest with a gasp when something sharp caught the side of her wrist and burned down her arm.

She had a knife. A swiss army knife, to be exact.

It was a red rectangular plastic with a lot of various sized blades tucked away and even a thin set of scissors attached. (Y/n) didn't see her take that out of her bag, she moved far too quickly and it was very unsettling to know this woman carried one around with her in her bag.

"Where is he?!"

"I- I told you, he's at work- please stop. Why do you want to see him?" (Y/n) tried to swipe away the small trickle of blood from her wrist but she lashed her left hand out again when the woman moved the knife near her stomach. She wasn't going to harm the baby. (Y/n) wouldn't let her.

"I want him! He's mine- he saved me. We've been out on dates, bet you didn't know that."

It took all (Y/n) had not to roll her eyes or make a sarcastic sound. As if she would truly believe Evan could be the way he was around her and then go behind her back with someone else. He wouldn't be this clingy and attached to (Y/n) if he really was going out with someone else and he wouldn't be so excited about having their baby if he wanted to leave (Y/n).

She knew her husband and she knew he was as devoted to her as she was to him. Everyone at the station was always telling her that. Clearly this woman had either been reading the signals wrong, or she had been living in a fantasy that had just broken.

"He isn't here-"

"So call him and get him here!"

When the knife moved closer to her stomach, (Y/n) backed up into the lounge and nodded. Her hands started to tremble as she turned and looked around for her phone. This woman had to be derranged. She clearly didn't have Evan's number or she would have called him herself and unless Evan had a secret phone he wasn't telling (Y/n) about, he couldn't be having an affair.

No one nowadays had affairs where they only talked in person or through the post. This woman didn't have Evan's number, she had no way of contacting him and it was clear she had never been to the house before. Her fantasy was unravelling because she was realising Evan had a life and a family that she wasn't part of.

(Y/n) slowly pointed to her phone and picked it up just as she felt the knife press against the side of her abdomen. She couldn't make any sudden movements unless she wanted to risk harming the baby.

"H-he might not be able to answer, if he's out on a call…" (Y/n)'s fingers trembled as she unlocked her phone.

Her lips pressed together in a thin line when she looked at her home screen. Evan, lying in bed with one hand tangled in his hair and a cheesy grin on his face as he squinted up at the camera.

Her thumb hovered over Evan's icon at the bottom of her phone where two hearts surrounded 'hubby'.

"Either he answers, or he truly doesn't love you. He wouldn't leave you alone ready to pop without a way for you to contact him, would he?"

It didn't feel safe to tell this woman that they had protocols and plans in place for that kind of event. If Evan couldn't answer the phone, (Y/n) was supposed to ring Bobby. If he didn't answer, she had the fire station emergency line where someone at the station would answer and they could radio through to Evan. He would get (Y/n)'s message either way, but right now, she needed her husband to answer the phone.

God knows what this woman would do if he didn't pick up.

"What do I tell him?" She couldn't risk getting a knife to the stomach if she said the wrong thing or said something this lady didn't want her to say. (Y/n) needed to know what to do.

"Tell him to come home. Tell him Cara's here and she needs to see him, if he doesn't… I think you know what will happen."

(Y/n) let herself slump down on the sofa as she clicked Evan's icon and pressed the phone against her ear. Her free hand tangled in her hair before she moved to press the back of her hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying. But she couldn't fight off the few tears that silently slipped down the bridge of her nose.

The baby was twisting. Her stomach was flooding with adrenaline. Her body was shaking from the panic. She felt like she was going to be sick. (Y/n) wanted her husband more than ever.

"Sweetheart, everything okay? Is it time, is the baby coming?" Words rambled past Evan's lips and he couldn't see the relief on (Y/n)'s face when he started to speak. He knew she wouldn't ring him unless it was urgent or an emergency.

"Evan, can you come home please?"

"Baby are you okay?" He could hear the wobble in her voice and it made his heart clench. He would come home, she knew he would, but Evan had to know what the situation was and why he was coming home. He had to know if (Y/n) was in labour or if she had fallen or was feeling sick or felt like something was wrong. He needed the specifics.

"Cara's here, a-and she wants to talk to you… it's important, please come home."

"Cara? What's she doing at the house- how does she know where we live?" Evan tangled his fingers in the short curls at the back of his head as he spun round in a circle.

How did she know where he lived? Why had she turned up at his house and not the station?

Oh God, had she been following him to know where he lived?

"Baby are you hurt, please tell me she hasn't hurt you?"

(Y/n) darted her eyes to the left and glanced over at Cara to see if she could hear Evan through the phone or not. She looked a little calmer now but the fire was still burning in her eyes. She was sat on the arm of the sofa next to (Y/n), the army knife still dangerously close to (Y/n)'s stomach just to show her she still meant business.

When she looked up, she noticed Cara had seen her eyes darting down to the knife and something sinister flickered across her face.

"You can tell him I have a knife with me. And I will use it if he doesn't take us seriously."

"Did- she's got a fucking knife?!" Evan's feet moved before he could comprehend what he was doing or where he was going. He needed help. He needed someone to come down to his house with him. He was sure he heard Cara say she would use her knife. He couldn't have her threatening or hurting (Y/n). Especially not when she was so close to giving birth.

"Evan-" (Y/n) shuddered and took a sharp breath when the phone was suddenly snatched from her hand.

"Buck, it's me. Are you on your way?"

"What are you doing at my house? Don't you dare hurt my wife! I swear to God I'll-"

"Enough talk. You need to come home now, so you can choose who you really want to be with. You need to choose the right woman for you."

(Y/n) flinched when she heard Evan begin to yell before the call ended and Cara tossed the phone on the floor. At least Evan would be coming home soon. (Y/n) wouldn't have to be on her own with this unhinged woman for much longer.

For a little while, (Y/n) began rubbing her hands up and down her thighs and across her knees as something to distract herself. She was desperate to run her hands over her stomach and try to settle the baby but she didn't dare draw attention to her stomach. Not when the knife was still held so close to her that she could almost feel it.

Part of her prayed that Evan would bring someone from the station with him, maybe Bobby or perhaps he could get hold of Athena. But she wasn't sure what Cara would do if he turned up with anyone else and if he called the police, everything would get worse.

Both women turned to look at each other when they heard the screeching of tyres in the drive.

It had to be Evan.

"Up. Now."

A shiver rocketed through (Y/n) but she did as requested, she didn't exactly have a choice.

Her lips pressed into a thin line and her hands coiled around her chest when the knife jabbed into the left side of her waist. She could feel the jagged edge beginning to pull the threads on her shirt and if Cara pushed just a little, she would pierce through into (Y/n)'s skin.

Cara's other hand moved to grip the back of (Y/n)'s right arm and she pushed her to stand near the window just as Evan banged his knuckles on the door.

"Baby it's me." The door was open but Evan felt apprehensive about going inside. He didn't know what he was going to be walking into, he had no idea if (Y/n) was okay, if she was going to be in shock or crying or hurt or oddly calm. He didn't know what state Cara would be in either.

"You'd better be alone. No one else comes in or I'll hurt her." Cara tightened her hand on (Y/n)'s arm and kept the knife in place to stop (Y/n) from moving when they both watched Evan walk through the hall.

He had his hands out in front of him to show he wasn't about to do anything. He had Bobby waiting outside in the car, but Evan wasn't stupid enough to tell Cara that. And Bobby was on the phone to Athena who was going to send a squad car down here without lights or sirens so Cara didn't get disgruntled.

"It's just me." Evan walked around the corner and paused near the sofa.

(Y/n) saw the way his eyes darkened and his broad shoulders tensed and lifted up when he looked at them. He lowered his hands down to his sides and clenched his hands into fists while his biceps started to push against his cuffed sleeves.

A quiet 'good' murmured past Cara's lips and she smiled triumphantly while her eyes focused on Evan. He stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands down on the back of the sofa. It showed how tense his arms were and they both heard his neck crack when he twisted his head from side to side.

"Are you okay?" Evan focused his eyes on his wife. She had a cut on her right wrist but it didn't look too extensive. He could see her trembling and tears were traced down her features, but she didn't look too shook up which is all he could ask for right now.

"She's fine."

(Y/n) bit her lip but she nodded, she didn't want Evan to worry, she was as fine as she could be in this situation.

"I'd feel a lot better if you weren't holding a knife to her stomach. Can you put it down, please?" It felt horrid to try and be reasonable and bargain with Cara but Evan needed her to stop holding (Y/n) like that. She was going to hurt her or send her into shock and Evan didn't want either of those things happening.

"No. Sit down, we need to talk."

Evan locked his jaw when Cara gave (Y/n) a sudden push towards the armchair beneath the window. He watched with narrowed eyes as (Y/n) slumped down into the chair and dug her nails into the arm rest while her other hand moved to press against her stomach.

When Cara perched down on the arm rest and kept the knife against (Y/n)'s stomach, Evan moved round and sat on the very edge of the sofa. His knees spread out to the sides and his hands clasped together and hung between his knees.

"You didn't tell me about her." The way Cara inclined her head towards (Y/n) and her upper lip curled in distaste made Evan take a deep breath. "You led me on. I've been to visit you at work, I've been out with you, and no mention of her."

For a second, Evan frowned and looked up at Cara like she had grown a second head.

But then it dawned on him. He'd seen her when he was out at the shop last week. He'd seen her again when he went for a drink with Chimney and Eddie after shift. He even saw her at the gas station walking past while he was filling the jeep. Nothing about those instances had seemed strange because Cara barely spoke to him on each occasion.

Had she thought seeing him out in public meant they were going out together? Did she somehow concoct a whole story with Evan without him realising? Had she been following him instead of simply bumping into him in the street?

"I'm sorry, but you can see why I didn't tell you… I was married before I met you." Evan didn't exactly know what to say, but he knew he had to try and go along with this for a little while. He had to calm Cara down enough to get (Y/n) out the house, then he could sort out this mess. He just needed his family out the way and safe.

"Well now you have a problem. You can't have both of us, so you have to choose."

The knife pressed closer into (Y/n)'s stomach and she flinched. She shuffled as close to the right as she could until she was curled around the arm of the chair with her arms around her chest and her eyes locked on Evan.

"Will you let (Y/n) leave then, so you and me can talk in private?"

He could see she wasn't expecting that response, and Cara didn't know what to do. Evan was trying to get (Y/n) out safely, he wanted her out the house and out of harms way and Cara might be able to see that. But she also couldn't pass up the chance that Evan might just want to pick her and talk this through with her.

"What about the baby? If you leave her, will you leave the baby too?" When Cara jabbed the knife into (Y/n)'s side to prove her point, (Y/n) visibly winced and bit down her cry.

"We can talk about that when (Y/n) leaves us alone," Evan was losing his patience now, he couldn't play pretend for much longer.

Cara seemed to debate it for a few seconds before she nodded but her actions contradicted her gesture when she moved the knife and against (Y/n)'s neck. She seemed to revel in the way (Y/n) whimpered and leaned back and more tears drenched her face.

"Go upstairs. You're not leaving the house to call any of your little friends."

(Y/n) could feel the knife pressing tightly into her neck until it pierced the skin and a small trickle of blood trailed down the side of her neck, but she couldn't move. Her hands stayed locked around the arm of the chair and she closed her eyes for a few seconds. She didn't feel well enough to move. Everything within (Y/n) was telling her to move, to get up and go and keep the baby safe.

She knew Evan could look after himself, he could get the knife off Cara and calm her down until they could get the police here. But she couldn't find the will power to move when her stomach was twisting and she felt sick.

"Sweetheart," Evan chomped down on his tongue when Cara sent him a warning look. "(Y/n), go."

"Are you stupid? Move, he's told you he doesn't want you here anymore."

Tears tumbled down (Y/n)'s face and she stumbled up to her feet when Cara gave her a rough shove between the shoulders and she felt the knife slide down her neck, creating a superficial wound.

(Y/n) could feel her knees quaking but she couldn't stop the small cry from errupting past her lips when she looked down. Both her hands cradled her stomach and she darted her wild, panicked eyes to look over at Evan. She watched the way her husband tensed up and his eyes bulged in their sockets.

Her waters had broken.

"Evan…" She didn't know what she wanted to say or what she wanted her husband to do, but (Y/n) needed Evan to do something.

She cringed and pinned her elbows into her waist when Cara snagged a handful of her hair and pulled her head right back until her neck felt like it had broken.

"You've done this on purpose! This is to make sure he won't leave you- you bitch!"

"Let her go- Cara that's enough!" Evan raised his voice out of instinct and bolted up from the sofa when he saw the knife move near (Y/n)'s stomach. He couldn't let her do anything to his wife. She was frightened and in pain and now she was going to go into labour at the worst possible time. Evan had to keep them both safe and away from Cara.

(Y/n) reached her hands out for Evan when he stumbled towards her. She let out a scream when the knife swiped near her stomach just as she tried to lunge forward and pull out of Cara's tight grip on her hair.

Her hands curled around Evan's arm and she let him yank her forwards until he had her safely behind him. Evan hated the way he felt (Y/n) go down on her knees behind him and he felt her hands scratch down his back and his leg but he couldn't grab her. He had to reach forward for Cara who tried to lunge with a violent scream that almost deafened him.

The knife slashed the inside of Evan's palm but the adrenaline countered out the slight sting he barely felt. He curled his fingers around the blade and pulled until he had hold of the weapon which he launched somewhere behind him. He heard it clatter against the bannister and was satisfied it was far enough away so Cara couldn't reach for it again just as he heard the front door swing open.

"Buck?!"

Evan had never been happier to hear Bobby's voice and the thudding sound of approaching footsteps told him that someone else was in the house too. Someone else was here to help. He latched his fingers around Cara's wrist and pushed until they both stumbled and a scream tore from her lips when they clashed into the armchair.

When hands grabbed his shoulders, Evan let go and allowed whoever it was to reel him backwards until he was towards the sofa.

He realised it was Bobby who had hold of him and Athena was now stood in front of him like a bodyguard, trying to move and calm Cara enough to arrest her.

"Buck, Buck, come on, up." Bobby slipped his hands beneath Evan's arms and pulled until Evan bent his knees and managed to stand up. He could feel Bobby turning him in the right direction and giving him a helpful nudge until he moved towards (Y/n).

She was cowering down on the floor behind the sofa, one hand braced on the arm of the sofa with her other hand cradling her stomach.

Tears flooded down her face and she could barely see when Evan held her chin and tilted her head up so they were level again. His thumb swiped across her lips and (Y/n) could see his eyes raking over her to see what injuries she had. Her wrist was aching but it had already stopped bleeding, it was more of a nuisance than anything. There was a slight pinch in the left side of her stomach and (Y/n) knew Evan could see the small trickle of blood soaking into her shirt.

The knife had given her another superficial cut on the side of her abdomen that was nothing to worry about. But the look in Evan's eyes said it all; he wasn't impressed, not in the least.

(Y/n) curled her hand tightly around Evan's wrist when his hand slid round to cradle the back of her neck. He leaned closer until (Y/n) could bury her face in his neck and his other arm curved around her waist to keep her tucked up against his chest.

"Alright, alright sweetheart I've got you. It's okay." He spoke quietly into the top of her head as he felt her tears soaking into his neck and it made him shiver.

"Are you both alright?" Bobby rested his hand on Evan's shoulder as he crouched down and tried to assess them. He knew Evan's hand was bleeding, he could see the blood pooling between his fingers and trickling steadily down his wrist. But he hadn't been inside when everything turned south, Bobby hadn't seen if they had been hurt before he and Athena barged in.

"Her water broke."

"Right, then we need to take a trip down to the hospital."

(Y/n) tried to keep her face tucked up into Evan's neck but he gently reeled her back so he could look down at her again. She could feel his thumb smoothing up and down the back of her neck beneath her hair and his other hand began rubbing circles into her lower back. The smile o his face was calming, but not as much as the way his blue eyes seemed to swirl like a light was being shone in his aqua blue iris.

"Let's go have a baby."

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