#// me: i will keep the first one small and we can extend from there

[beck-hartman]

WHO: Beck & @shoshanna-hart WHERE: Wild at Hart, downtown Merrock

Beck, I want to talk to you.

He had wanted to have this talk since he'd first run into her, had a half a dozen or more questions for her about the last eight years, but as he drove up on his bike, he felt nervous.

I’ll always want to be your friend, but I also want…

He knew how that sentence ended in his bones, so this whole thing was his to lose. If it ended like he thought, then there was nothing to worry about, but she had seemed worried. Maybe it was because she had moved on and fallen in love with someone else...maybe she still was. If that were true, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. She could lie about that. She wouldn't, not to him, but he didn't know how he'd handle that.

He took a minute to walk the downtown area after he parked to get out some of the nerves. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked around for some tiny rocks on the sidewalk before reaching down to grab two. Tossing the first up at one of the upper windows at the shop, he waited that slight beat before throwing the second. One wasn't enough to be sure, three was risk of catching parental attention, so they'd decided on two in a certain rhythm to know the other was outside. If it was coast was clear, you come to the window. They were adults now and didn't need to do this, but he couldn't resist one more trip down memory lane.

As she appeared, he smiled because she remembered. At that same instant, his nerves dissipated. There she was, his best friend, his soulmate, what was there to worry about? There was nothing too bad that she could say, so he gave her a wave and waited for her to let him in.

[secretmellowblog]

People who try to analyze what happened on Tumblr on November 5th, 2020, often really overstate how much it was actually “about” Supernatural. As someone who has never been in the supernatural fandom ever but dID join in on the hysterical destielposting—it was really more about the stress of the pandemic and the 2020 presidential election.

The two biggest Youtubers I’ve seen try to dissect “what happened that November 5th” in video essays both weren’t American—- and I think that explains why they both tried to explain the hysteria primarily via analyzing the Supernatural fandom/the original show, rather than through the lens of the election. And while those videos are cool, valid, informational, and make lots of really well-considered interesting points— I can tell you that me and almost all my mutuals had literally no knowledge or interest in the fact that “oh supernatural had made nods at the ship in the past but the creators were adamant that I wouldn’t be canon” or etc etc etc etc. the first time I learned about any of that context was way later, watching videos where people claimed that fandom history context (that I did not know anything about) was the actual reason for the hysteria.

But the reality is that people latched on to the Destiel stuff because it was a piece of big useless inane zero-stakes fandom news in a time when we were desperately waiting for serious high stakes election news. We were latching onto a “positive “ piece of inane stupid fandom news in a time of great stress, with all the desperation of a drowning man who latches onto whatever piece of wood will keep him afloat.

The core of the hysteria was that Americans (who make up a huge chunk of tumblr’s userbase) were currently glued to their laptops watching the live presidential election vote counts come in. These vote counts were taking an extended amount of time due to the pandemic causing high numbers of mail-in ballots, resulting in a constant state of Election Day Stress for multiple days straight.

This was also during the height of the Pandemic. People had predicted Trump’s presidency would be bad; no one had predicted it would be this apocalyptically bad. No one had predicted pandemics and lockdowns and hospitals overflowing with bodybags. remember Trump spreading Covid lies and conspiracies?? There were so many Qanon conspiracies about democrats being Satanic child traffickers who had to be put to death, and coup threats were mounting from the right wing side. It seemed like this election was a choice between ‘centrist democrat’ and “apocalyptic right wing conspiracy theory authoritarianism,” in the midst of pandemic conditions that people feared would never ever improve— and it seemed like a close election.

Another major point was that Trump voters were more likely to be antimaskers/Covid deniers, while Biden voters were more likely to take the pandemic seriously— so Biden voters were more likely to send in mail-in ballots instead of risking the in-person voting crowds, which meant their ballots would take much longer to count. And so, in many state electoral vote counts, it would initially seem like Trump was very far in the lead— only for Biden to slooooowly build up an agonizingly small lead as the mail in ballots came in, and then defeat Trump at the very end.

So you’re just watching these news sites giving live election updates, refreshing the page every 2 minutes to see if you’re going to live under a spineless centrist democrat or a literal Qanon Dictatorship. And then you go on tumblr to distract yourself, and there’s more election posting, and more agonizing over the votes, and more stress and despair—-

And then it’s been days and we’re right at the crucial tipping point where it’s anyone’s game and the next few hours will determine whether Trump will win, so you need to keep your eye on the vote count, because the next hours will determine the future of the pandemic and your country and your plans for your entire life—

And then stupid Destiel becomes canon! And it becomes canon in the silliest way possible!

If Destiel had become canon at any other time, it would have been a big goofy tumblr celebration? But we wouldn’t have gotten the insane explosion of hysterical interaction.

The entire core of it was the contrast between the inane meaningless stupidity of fandom news vs the actual stressful election news you wanted to hear! It really is best conveyed in that meme where Castiel says “I love you” and Dean indifferently responds with a piece of important election news.

It’s about the contrast between the low-stakes inanity of fandom and the massive life-destroying stakes of a terrifying election. There really was no reason it had be Supernatural specifically, except that Supernatural was a thing everyone knew basic things about from dashboard osmosis— it could’ve been any other equally huge silly fandom ship news about a ship everyone *knew of* but might not necessarily be invested in (ex. Stucky becoming canon, Johnlock becoming canon, Kirk/Spock becoming more canon somehow, etc etc etc.)

I think it’s true that people who weren’t paying agonizingly close attention to the American election news got swept up in it, and that non American Supernatural fans also were extremely excited for purely fandom reasons — but the entire reason it blew up to an unprecedented degree was because of that core of stressed out terrified Americans glued to their computers watching election results and suddenly receiving stupid fandom news instead, and deciding to just hysterically parodically hyper-celebrate this absurd useless zero-stakes news.

I think it was also all elevated by the fact that, as I said before, this happened at the crucial “tipping point” of the election where the next few hours would determine the winner. The fact that Biden began to slowly develop a lead in the hours after made it feel, hysterically, as if the hours after Destiel became canon was somehow the turning point where he began to win; so celebrating Destiel felt like celebrating that slow turn towards victory.

The tl,dr is that it’s so important to Remember the Fifth of November …..in preparation the inevitable hysteria that will happen in the presidential election on November 5th of next year. XD. Personally I’m rooting for Johnlock or Frodo/Sam to somehow become canon in the eleventh hour right before the democrats win

[spaceyaemonds]

paring: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you and dr. abbot are on the way to your first appointment and have one of what will be very many awkward conversations.

warning: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unexpected pregnancy, jack is divorced, mentions of PTSD, maybe angst?? MDNI

notes: so so sorry this is late😭 life is hard sometimes LOL i am slightly struggling with the pacing on this, so if you guys feel like it’s too slow or we are possibly jumping around too much, please let me know! unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.1k

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You took Jack’s number and told him you needed a couple of days to think things through.

Then you went home and finally called your mom, sparing no details despite thinking maybe you should keep a few things, namely Jack’s age, to yourself.

She reacts as expected. Lecturing you over the phone, reminding you of just how many times she told you to be safe.

Then she asked if you wanted to come home. And you hesitated in saying no, because despite not only your life being in Pittsburgh, but the father of your child’s life is here too, you can’t help but wonder if you should go home.

Six days after your initial conversation with Jack, you call and ask him if he can go with you to your appointment tomorrow.

“Yeah, I can come with you. I don’t get off until 7, though,” He sighs lightly into the phone.

“I can pick you up at the hospital? My appointment is at 8 and I have to drive past there anyway,”

He’s silent for a minute, and you cringe to yourself wondering if you overstepped.

Before you can backtrack, he speaks up, “Yeah, yeah that’s fine. Uh, when you get here just tell the lady at the front in the ED, Lupe, she should be here, that you’re here to see me,”

This almost feels too personal, “Um, okay! Will do,”

The two of you quickly get off the phone, you cringing to yourself at the awkwardness you feel about the entire situation.

The next morning you’re standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, wondering if you should dress nice. How does one even dress for a pregnancy confirmation appointment?

Biting your lip, you decide to stay in the leggings and pullover you picked out earlier this morning, who cares what anyone else thinks? It’s not like the baby will care what you wore to your first official appointment.

Glancing over your outfit one last time, you sign and grab your purse, the notebook with your extensive list of questions, and your phone before you make your way out the door.

Once you get to PTMC, you go straight where Jack told you to go.

You find, who you hope is, Lupe, and tell her your name and that you’re here to see Dr. Abbot. You try not to shrink into yourself at the skeptical look you receive from her.

“I’ll let him know you’re here. Please take a seat,”

“What are you still doing here?” Jack looks over at Dr. Mohan, who’s staring at him quizzically.

Glancing down at his watch, he sees the time and furrows his brows, you should be here soon.

“Just, uh, waiting on my ride,”

Samira blinks at him, “Your truck is in the parking lot?”

Before he can respond, Dana interrupts the conversation.

“Abbot, Lupe says you have a very pretty young lady here to see you,”

He pretends to not see the look Dana’s giving him, eyebrows raised with a slight smirk, or the way he sees Samira’s face fall slightly out of the corner of his eye as he gathers his bag from behind the nurse’s station to leave.

You’re sitting towards the back of the waiting room, dutifully waiting for him when he walks through the ED doors.

When you catch sight of him, you stand, awkwardly brushing your hands on your leggings, “Hey,”

“Good morning,” He gives you a small smile, hoping to ease your tension.

“Lead the way,” He extends his arm towards the exit, following slowly behind you as you exit the hospital and make your way to your car.

Once the two of you are settled, he hears you inhale a deep breath as look over at him.

“So, we should probably get all the awkward stuff out of the way. Are you seeing anyone? Or like, I guess talking to anyone? Anything like that? I know we aren’t together, but I feel like this is a need to know kind of thing,”

He blinks at you as your ramble, “Honey, I’m 47 years old. I think I’m too old to be talking to anyone.”

Your face heats up as you are reminded of the age gap, “Okay, well are there women, or men I guess, in your life that, you know, satiate the needs?”

This time he laughs. He’s fucking laughing at you.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Uh, no, no satiating needs partner at the moment,”

His face turns serious, “Do you have anyone?”

You think back to your ex, 4 years down the drain, “Um, n-no.”

Your response tells him you don’t want to talk about it, so he doesn’t push.

“Well, I have no family history of anything medical. And aside from the obvious,” He gestures to his leg, “I deal with some insomnia, and PTSD from my time in the military but like I said unrelated to family history.”

You nod, taking all of what he just said in, “Um, my family has a history of depression and anxiety, but that’s nothing crazy, I don’t think,” You trail off awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t question further.

When he doesn’t, you start to drive to your OBGYN’s clinic.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t dare look at him, but you see him glance at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Of course,” His voice is gruff, sexy.

No, do not think about that right now.

“Why, um, why,” You clear your throat awkwardly, “You said you got a divorce over you not wanting kids. Why? And what do I change?”

He stares at you, not really sure how to answer. When he got back from overseas, missing half his leg and mind, he never thought being a father would be a good idea. He threw himself into work at the hospital, neglected the first woman he ever loved to the point of no return, and crushed her heart in the middle of therapy when they were rapidly approaching 35 and she brought up to their therapist that she wanted children.

Two weeks later, they filed for divorce, and two years later, she had her first baby.

He looks over at you. Studying the curve of your nose and the pout of your lips as you drive.

“Just didn’t. Never felt like the right time, I guess,”

You can tell he’s holding out on saying more, but you don’t push it.

“And now is? The right time?” Your voice is small, guarded like it was a week ago.

He takes a deep breath before placing his hand on your thigh, “Can’t say for sure. Feels like it might be.”

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Old Man (Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3615

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI!, Sexual themes, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), p in v penetration (wrap it before you tap it), cum, swearing, use of "Baby" as a pet name, small alcohol mention, Older man/younger woman, Reader has female genitalia

Summary: After moving in to the mansion, you have developed quite the crush on the older, grumpy Wolverine. After he finds you walking the grounds one evening, what could happen if you face the fact that you've been flirting with each other for months?

A/N: I have always had such a crush on Hugh Jackman's Wolverine so Deadpool and Wolverine is like a dream come true

You were thankful that the other mutants had found you when they did. You had just lost your job, behind on your rent, and the most recent Tinder date had ghosted you. When a group of likeminded individuals came to you with a promise of a free place to stay, how could you say no?

Once you had arrived and decorated your room, Professor Xavier revealed the place wasn't quite free. With a mutation allowing you to manipulate food at will, he thought you may be able to help provide for all of the children and teenagers living at the mansion. Despite feeling a bit slighted, you were glad to have been given a purpose.

Over time, the mansion began to truly feel like home. You felt at peace in the kitchens, putting together meals for the other occupants. Many of the residents saw you as a maternal figure despite you not being much older than them, only being in your twenties. No matter your age, they tended to enjoy talking through problems with you over some tea and your famous chocolate chip cookies.

Something else that had grown over time at the mansion, alongside others fondness of you, was your own fondness for a particularly grumpy mutant. You couldn't explain it, as it didn't seem like you had much in common. You were generally a pretty bubbly, happy person, eager to speak with the children to help them out. The Wolverine was, well, not exactly described the same.

Nonetheless, he began to consume more of your thoughts. At first more of a schoolgirl crush, thinking about how you found him attractive. Of course you had thought about the fact that he was much older than yourself, but you didn't pay that much mind as you expected the little crush to go away over time. Instead, the crush became stronger and stronger until it was something you knew would not go away soon. Laying in your bed at night, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to feel Logan laying in bed next to you. Or perhaps, on top of you.

Using your powers to conjure ingredients for the student's lunch, you let your mind wander again as you worked. You imagined what it would be like to feel the Wolverine's hands on you, walking up behind you while you were cooking to place his hands on your hips. Resting his chin on your shoulder as he relaxed into you, making you giggle as his beard tickled your neck.

"Do we have any beer?" Came a voice, startling you from your daydream. What startled you most was the fact that it was his voice, as you spun around to face Logan, hoping your face was not as flushed as it felt.

"Give me just a minute," you said with a smile at him. "You know Charles doesn't like to keep any on hand since there are so many kids here," you said slyly, "but lucky for you my powers can extend to food and drink."

He sat down at the table nearby with a sigh. You tried not to notice the picturesque way he seemed to pose as he sat, legs spread and chest puffed out. Stop being such a creep!

"Why couldn't he have found you sooner?" Spoke Logan. The lazy smile on his face as he said those words made your face hot, hoping he didn't notice as you got to work on his request.

Handing him the drink, your fingertips brushed his. As you moved to let go, you felt him linger.

"Thanks, bub," he said, looking up into your eyes as he took the drink from your hand. You turned away quickly, resuming your work in hopes he didn't notice the way that his stare made you heat up.

Thankfully, Logan chose not to stay long. Once he left the room, you felt you could finally catch your breath and focus on the task at hand.

-

This was a pattern that the two of you fell into. Simple conversations never lasted long, but they always seemed to end with a linger. Oftentimes you would find yourself trying to sneak a glance at the man, only to meet his own eyes before shifting your own away quickly.

You tried not to look too far into those moments, after all, there's no way that Logan would be looking deeper himself. Surely it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was merely a symptom of the social cues he tended to ignore in favor of brashness. He never seemed rude during conversation with yourself, but it may be correlated. At least, that's what you decided to believe. Allowing yourself to believe the alternative, that he was purposefully flirting with you, could never end well. You were not going to open yourself up into that kind of disappointment.

Walking the grounds of the mansion, you took in the cool autumn air. After a busy day, you thought a walk in the moonlight would be the perfect thing before making your way to your bedroom. It was a futile attempt to clear your mind before trying to fall asleep, even though you knew despite your efforts your mind would still drift to Logan before you did so.

With a sigh, you took a seat down on a nearby bench. Looking up at the sky, you were grateful Charles did not allow much light pollution nearby, allowing you to admire the stars.

"The hell are you doing out here?" Came a gruff voice from behind you, making you jump. Even though the suddenness of the voice breaking the silence making you jump, you knew who it was immediately.

"I could ask you the same thing, Logan." You said, turning to find the man coming up on the bench. He rounded the corner, motioning to the empty seat next to you as if to ask permission to sit down. You nodded, and he did just so.

The two of you sat in silence, taking in your surroundings. At least, that's what you assumed he was doing. The only surrounding you could take in now was him. He smelled good, like smoke and a cologne you couldn't place. Your thigh brushed against his seated so close, and as soon as your leg touched his it felt as if it could have caught fire, spreading through your body quickly. The power he had over you was undeniable, and you pled that he wouldn't notice.

Looking over at him, you saw him looking into the distance. You took the moment to observe the way he looked under the moonlight. His hair looked soft, as if begging to have hands run through it. The stars reflected within his eyes, giving them a subtle sparkle. Your eyes trailed down the slope of his nose, down to his lips. You were sure that if you were to kiss him, his facial hair would tickle your cheeks in the most delectable way. You felt your breathing deepen.

Logan turned towards you, a look that you couldn't quite place in his eyes.

"What are we doing?" He asked.

You felt your heart clench, unsure if you should be confused or nervous.

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled, "you know what I mean. As if you weren't checking me out a few seconds ago." You turned away in embarrassment, feeling your face heat. He continued, "we've been dancing around it for months. I should have put a stop to it a long time ago."

You felt your body heat in embarrassment even more. Not only had he noticed how you felt, but just as you assumed he did not reciprocate those feelings.

"I-I'm sorry," you said softly. Afraid that if you rose your voice any louder, you he would hear the wobble in your tone. You didn't want to cry in front of him, especially now.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said with a sad chuckle. "It's not your fault. When I said I should have put a stop to it, I mean an old man like me shouldn't be flirting with a young thing like you."

So he was flirting, you thought. Even though he seems regretful now, at least you know you weren't looking into something that wasn't really happening.

"It's not like I wasn't flirting back," you said with a sigh. "If I wanted you to stop I would have told you."

You could feel his eyes flip to you quickly, as if he was surprised.

"What did you just say?"

"I-I would have stopped you?"

A smirk made its way slowly onto his face.

"You wanted me to flirt with you?"

Your face scrunched in confusion at his words. "Was I not obvious?" There is no way he didn't pick up on your feelings. "Did you not just comment on me checking you out literally minutes ago?"

His smirk only grew, "maybe I just thought you were naive. Good to know there's more to it."

"You were flirting with me, thinking I was just naive?" You questioned, a slight burst of confidence making you reflect on what he had said previously. "A young thing like me?" He faltered at your words.

"What do you-"

"You said so yourself," you purred, confidence clouding your judgement, allowing you to reach toward him to place a hand gently on his outer thigh. You were sure to note his sharp intake of breath as you did so, only emboldening you further. "You liked flirting with me didn't you, Old Man?"

He nearly groaned at your words, sending a rush through your body. his eyes, previously glued to your hand placement, flicked back up to your eyes. They didn't stay there, and you noticed his heavier breathing as his eyes began to flip between your eyes and your mouth. Not wanting to wait for him any longer, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. You were right, his beard did tickle.

You kissed Logan softly, moving your lips with his as soon as he got over his shock. The softness of your lips on his, paired with the near-innocent way you kissed him drove him crazy. Logan's arms made their way around you, pulling you towards him so that you were sat on his lap. His strength was already known to you, but the ease of his action still made you squeak. If he can move you this easily while kissing you, your mind ran wild with what else he could be capable of.

He deepened the kiss, leaving you just about breathless. Your excitement, and ego, only grew as you felt Logan's own excitement growing under your lap. Hands frenzied across his chest, grabbing his shirt while he continued to use his arms to press you close to him. You didn't even register you had begun moving your hips against him until he pulled back, his head rolling back with a groan that was purely sinful.

"You're a little minx, you know that?" He grumbled, but made no move to stop your motions.

"Logan," you whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him with wide doe-eyes. His last thread of self-restraint snapped inside of him as he heard his name fall from your mouth. He had already let himself go much further with you than he had planned, but now that he's heard how you sound saying his name he needed to hear it, again and again and again.

He rose from the bench quickly, grabbing your hand in his much larger one.

"Come on," he grumbled, pulling you along with him. He moved hastily, but you kept up easily. His pace only made your growing sense of arousal quicken as well.

Before you knew it, he was pushing open the door to his room. The room matched the man, and you noticed how it smelled like him too.

"Sit," he commanded motioning to the bed. You had never thought yourself one to obey a man so easily, but something about his tone made you do as he said. Logan made sure the door was locked behind you both before returning to you quickly, taking your lips in his own again. His tongue darted out, running across your bottom lip. A moan escaped you involuntarily, and he relished in the noise. To have you here with him, so needy, so willing, so young. Even though he knew he should have blocked himself off from you as soon as he heard you were only in your twenties, he couldn't deny the fact that it only turned you on now that he had you in this position.

He held your thigh with one hand, using the other to snake under your shirt to cup one of your breasts over your bra. You moaned again at his touch, only encouraging him further.

"Take it off."

You pulled away from him just far enough to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. You then reached behind you, unclasping your bra and throwing both articles of clothing to the floor.

Logan smiled, eyes not leaving your breasts as he spoke.

"Well damn, I just meant the shirt but I'm not complaining."

The blush that rose to your face spread down to your chest as well. The way you flushed at his words was gorgeous to him. He never wanted this vision of you to stop. There was a part of Logan that was still convinced he may be dreaming.

Wasting no more time, he laid you down. His bed was much softer than you would have guessed. One hand made it's way to one of your breasts as his mouth made its way to the other. You moaned as he squeezed one breast, using his tongue to flick over your nipple on the other. The heat pooling between your legs was nearing a point of becoming uncomfortable. From the rigidity of Logan pants where they pressed against you, you could assume the same was true for him.

You reached down, palming him through his jeans. Already, you could tell his size would break you. It's not a thought you minded. He groaned at the contact, the vibrations making their way from his mouth to your nipple. Every part of you felt on fire, overheated as each touch of his sent you deeper into arousal.

You gasped at the sudden loss of contact, Logan pulling away to pull his own shirt off his head. You made no attempt to look away from him, taking in his built chest and abdomen. You wanted to put your mouth all over him.

"Like what you see?"

He pulled his jeans off before crawling back on top of you, one hand fingering each of your nipples as he attached his mouth back to your own. He captured every moan of yours into his mouth, as if devouring them would mean he could hear another.

Your hips has a mind of their own, craning upward towards the bulge in his boxers. As your clothed heat came in contact with him, he reciprocated with a growl, grinding down into you. Your mind spun at the increased contact, heat continuing to grow in your belly.

Logan pulled away from you again, making you whimper. His mouth trailed down your body, stopping at your breasts before continuing further. His fingers looped under your waistband, and he looked up at you as if asking for permission.

"Please, Logan," you whined with a wiggle of your hips. With your confirmation, he nearly tore the bottoms from your body trying to take them off so fast. Revealing your panties to him, he groaned as he saw the way that they were clearly soaked through. He loved the effect he was having on you.

The panties didn't stay on you long though, tore from you as well as you felt his warm mouth find your cunt. His tongue licked slowly from your hole up to your clit, nearly making you scream. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling your fingers in his tufts. The soft tug from your fingers make him moan into your pussy and you tucked that information away.

His speed increased, tongue flicking over your clit in sloppy circles. Your moans and whines only continued to spur him on, and you felt a finger prodding at your entrance. He pushed it in slowly, feeling your velvet walls clench around him.

If one finger feels this good, you thought, how the fuck am I going to take him?

He began to fuck you with his hand, adding a finger when you were ready and pushing slowly in and out of your soaking pussy. Combined with the movements of his tongue, you felt yourself reaching your peak quickly.

"Logan, I-" you whimpered.

"Come on baby," he said gruffly, only backing off your cunt long enough to get his words out before continuing his motions. "Cum for me baby. Show me how good you taste."

You moaned at his words, it being all you needed to push you over the edge. Your body shivered at the intensity of your orgasm, walls clenching around his fingers. Logan eagerly lapped up your juices as you came, only slowing down as your moans became breathier as you came down from your high.

" 'm gonna fuck you now baby," he growled. Despite having just orgasmed, his words sent a wave of tingles to your core. "That sound alright?"

You nodded, looking into his eyes as he made his way on top of you. He leaned down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"Use your words."

He took his length into his hand, mesmerizing you with the way he lazily jerked it in his hand.

"Please," you whispered.

"What was that?"

"Please, Logan, fuck me!" You cried.

"That's it," he said cockily as he pressed the head of his cock to your entrance. "Damn you're fucking soaking wet for me, aren't you?"

You could only moan in response, his cockhead stretching your walls as he entered you. It hurt as he stretched you in the best way, feeling more full than you ever have before you had even felt him bottom out. When he finally did, he used every ounce of restraint to stop himself from moving too much as he allowed you to adjust to his size. Before too long, you began to squirm under him. Your hands roamed his body, from his abs to his chest to his arms. With the way you whimpered under him, he was glad for your motions as he wasn't sure he could stay still much longer.

He began pulling out, before pushing back in tantalizingly slow. You moaned wantonly at the movement, feeling his dick twitch inside of you. You wiggled your hips, trying to push closer to him.

"Logan," you whined as if begging. Looking into his eyes, you could see how dark they were with lust. His pace increased, only making you louder as you kept your eye contact with him.

"Fuck baby," he grunted. "Not to bad for an old man, huh?" The way you moaned in response, mouth open in an 'O' shape as your eyes stayed locked to his told him he was correct. Your hands clawed your way down his chest, your eyes falling shut in your pleasure.

"Look at me," he demanded. You did as told, your big, lidded eyes filled with want nearing him towards his orgasm. All you could do was whine, whimper and moan, no hopes of formulating any real response. It was as if you were drunk on the way he felt inside you, pushing in deep and hitting all the right places.

"Are you gonna cum again for me baby? Let me feel you clench around my cock?" All his words did was make you moan louder, as if that were even still possible. You had never felt this level of pleasure before, and you knew you were going to be addicted. One of his hands made its way to one of your nipples, pinching it and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You felt your tummy flutter, clenching as you reached your second orgasm.

Your vision filled with stars, nearly screaming as you reached your peak again. Your walls clenched around Logan's cock, prolonging your orgasm as he continued to pound it in and out of your cunt.

You felt his thrusts begin to falter, grunting and growling as his movements became even harder and deeper than before. He suddenly pulled out, making you miss that feeling of fullness as he jerked himself off with his hand, spilling his cum onto your stomach and breasts.

As you both began to relax again, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way his seed looked across your body, your flushed face and the way your breasts moved as you huffed breathlessly.

"Take a picture," you joked, "it'll last longer."

"Can I?" He replied cockily, breathless himself as he cocked an eyebrow making you giggle.

After helping you clean yourself up, Logan laid down next to you with a deep huff, pulling the blanket over the both of you.

"We've got to start doing that more often," you whispered. His arm opened for you, letting you snuggle into his chest sleepily as he wrapped his arm around you. He placed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"Oh baby," he chuckled softly, "after all that, I don't think I ever want to stop."

You drifted off to sleep, feeling protected under Logan's grasp, happy you had decided to take that walk.

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

mint chocolate rewards [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii i kept getting stuck with this one but am pretty happy with how it turned out!! as much as i love pathetic steve i also looooove cocky steve. hope you enjoy!! feel free to send requests/suggestions or just chat with me :) -m

summary: you’re tutoring steve (there’s not a lot of learning going on) and he’s a smug asshole sometimes. (ft. ice cream, trains, and karaoke)

modern!steve x fem!reader 

warnings: use of y/n, cursing, angst (steve is a little bit of a an asshole), kissing, a tiny bit of phone teasing, dirty talk, fingering, edging, p in v, smidge of daddy kink (used like once or twice and it’s steve referring to himself)  18+ MDNI!!!!!!

wc: 19.3k (oh im a yapper)

masterlist here!!

College has been a fresh start for you, moving away from your small, stuffy town and basking in the change of scenery and people that a new city brought you. 

Boston was busy most of the time, a Friday or Saturday night in downtown made the city feel alive, electrified—but unlike New York, this city did sleep. Once the hustle and bustle of cars and trains stopped, the city shutdown for the night and the streets were quiet and still. Well in some places. 

It was your third year at Boston University and you’d developed a fondness for the city around you. It was a city of passion and that extended to food, history, and especially sports. A passionate place with the people to match it. 

With this new school and new city, you’d also found some new friends. Robin and Eddie, the three of you had found each other during the first week of freshman year and it had kind of just been that way ever since. You’d like to say you were Robin's best friend, but you knew that title was reserved for someone else. 

You didn’t know Steve Harrington, but you certainly knew of him. Hushed whispers and tired rumors always swirled through the air when Steve was around—and even when he wasn’t. 

Despite the reputation he seemed to have, you wondered if there was really any truth to it. Sure, he seemed charismatic and a little full of himself. Yes, he wore a smug smirk that you thought could bewitch just about anyone. But, when you sat on the sidelines and observed him, you noticed the way he tried to make everyone laugh. You’d seen firsthand how he took the time to talk to everyone around him and make sure they felt included in whatever the group was up to. You saw how he treated Robin, and cared for her. And plus, he couldn’t be that bad if she thought so highly of him, if she loved him so much.

So maybe you did know him, at least a little bit. 

But in reality you were a fairly optimistic person, so you kept your theories about Steve to yourself. You tended to look for the good in people, even when there wasn’t much to look at. A glass half full kind of gal. Which is why when you hear about the ladies man, the stereotypical asshole that is Steve Harrington, you keep your mouth shut and don’t add to the conversation at all. 

Even with Steve being Robin’s best friend, the two of you hardly ever overlapped. You’d see him in passing or he’d be coming to see Robin while you were leaving, but that was it. You weren’t sure why this was how it was, especially with how much she yapped about him. But really you think that Steve has his group of people and Robin has hers. The time they spent together was their own and you didn’t have any issues with that. 

And so when your professor pulls you aside after algebra ll, you realize your overlap with Steve Harrington just increased tenfold. 

“Steve is asking for some outside help and we talked about it and decided the group sessions that I do probably aren’t going to be a good fit. I know you’ve picked up some one on one sessions in the past and made you my first stop.” 

Although you don’t want to admit it, your heart beats a little faster at the thought of spending one on one time with Steve. You’re not sure if it’s excitement or dread—maybe a mix of both. 

“I, uh, I can do that. He’s serious about this right? I don’t want to waste my time if he’s not really wanting to learn something.” Okay, so maybe you’d let some of the rumors about him wiggle their way into your brain, but you couldn’t help it! 

“He is. From what I’ve seen he takes his classes seriously, despite what others say about him. I don’t think he’d ask for help just to make a joke out of it.”

She had a point, why would he go out of his way to seek tutoring if he wasn’t serious about it? And if someone needed some help and you could do it, you were going to. 

“Alright, I’m in. You can give him my number and I’ll see about setting something up.” 

———-

Your phone buzzing beside you while you laid in bed that night wasn’t out of the ordinary but it was strange when you looked and didn’t recognize the number on your screen. Until you remembered the conversation you’d had with Professor Benson that morning. And until you scrolled through the messages and saw his name. 

Unknown: Hi! I heard you agreed to be my tutor! Professor B didn’t tell me your name but thank you! 

Unknown: You are a lifesaver. 

Unknown: Oh shit this is Steve Harrington by the way. I forgot to mention that. 

Phone still clutched tightly in your hand, you cursed yourself for feeling nervous. He was being perfectly polite, cute even, and here you were with sweaty palms at the thought of texting him back. But you had to. You agreed to this and you wouldn’t go back on your word over some jitters. 

It only took you writing and rewriting the message about twenty times before you came up with something simple that didn’t make you cringe. 

Y/n: Hi, Steve! You’re welcome, I hope I can be of some help to you. I’m y/n, by the way. Did you have a certain time or place you wanted to meet up for your first session? I’m free most days after 6. 

Steve: Y/n? As in the person Robin has replaced me with? What a small world. 

Y/n: Funny. I don’t think anyone could replace your spot in Robin’s life, but yes that’s me.

A small smile worked its way on your lips as you went back and forth with him, some of the nerves slipping away. 

Steve: Well lucky me, I’ll finally get to spend some time with the girl I’ve heard so much about. But as for the first session, what about the library at 7 tomorrow? The tables in the back? 

You tried not to let the first part of his text affect you so much, but it did. If you were being honest, you didn’t think he even knew about you at all, so the thought that he had was making your pulse speed up. 

Y/n: Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then! 

Y/n: Oh and I’ve heard plenty about you too, all good things. 

Steve: Let’s hope I live up to my name then. See you tomorrow. 

———

Steve was living up to his name, but not the one Robin had given him. 

The day had passed quickly and before you knew it you were here about twenty minutes early with math textbooks and notes surrounding you. Now you wouldn’t fault Steve for not being early, that wouldn’t be fair, but you would fault him for being an hour late. 

Well technically he still hadn’t shown up. 

Ten or fifteen minutes, even half an hour you could brush off. Things happen, you get that. But you had no text, no call, no anything and you felt a steady stream of irritation flowing through you. Your texts had gone unanswered and while the rational part of you was concerned that something had happened, more than anything you were frustrated. 

You texted Robin to see if she knew anything about what was going on and she didn’t. If he wasn’t here by 8:45 you were leaving. That was more than fair and you cursed yourself for even giving him that much leeway. But really you hoped he didn’t show at all because now you were tired and pissed and certainly not in the mood to hear his excuses let alone tutor him. The thought of even speaking about math right now made you want to cry! 

It was a surprise your pencil didn't snap from how tight you were gripping it in your hand, your jaw clenched and the beginning of a headache pulsing behind your eyes. You’d try one more time, send one more text before you were done. 

Y/n: Can you at least let me know you’re alive?

That was fifteen minutes ago and still nothing. Looking down at your phone you see it’s now 8:50 and you push your chair back with a huff, standing up to stuff everything back into your bag, shoulders aching before you even add on the extra weight. 

It’s when you’re sliding in your laptop that you hear it. Panicked footsteps are hurrying toward you and you don’t even have to look up to know who it is. Any exhaustion you had is wiped away and replaced with red hot anger, the tips of your ears burning as you try to remind yourself to breathe. 

“Fuck, I’m here! Shit, I’m sorry but I’m here.”

You ignore him, it’s all you can do right now and honestly you think it’s best for both of you that you don’t speak. You’d been up since 5 am and that wasn’t his fault, but it definitely was his fault that he was showing up 2 hours late and keeping you up when you didn’t have to be. 

Zipping up your bag and grabbing your keys off the table you turn, brushing past him without so much as a glance before you’re heading to the doors of the library. Maybe you’re being a little dramatic but you don’t care. You hear him behind you, cursing under his breath and trying to quietly call your name but you keep going. Past the doors and down the sidewalk and straight ahead with a frown on your face. 

A hand on your arm stops you and you realize you manage to keep a few feet ahead of him for about four blocks. You don’t turn to him, don’t give any acknowledgment of his presence besides the pause of your feet. 

“I’m sorry I was a little late—”

That gets your attention and it’s enough to break the little silent treatment you’ve had going. It’s enough to have you pulling your arm away from his hand despite the warmth it provided as you turn to finally face him. 

“A little? Try two hours, Steve.” 

His nose scrunches and he looks away. You can see the embarrassment in his pinched brows and pouty lips but it does little to dull the frustration that’s been building inside of you since the half hour mark. 

But he’s standing in front of you for the first time and while he’s spewing sorry’s you’re taking him in. His hair is disheveled and his lips are a little swollen, like he or someone else has been biting on them. He’s wearing a lilac t-shirt that looks a little too good on him and jeans that hug him in all the right places. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Time got away from me and I didn’t realize until I was leaving her house that it was so late! I thought I’d given us plenty of time but I guess I…I fucked up.” 

You don’t hear much after “leaving her house”, a new wave of anger washing over you and you have to fist your hands at your side to keep from knocking in his pretty white teeth. 

“Was everyone okay?” Your voice is calm and quiet, a little sprig of hope inside that maybe someone needed his help, something had happened and it was an emergency. You hated yourself a little bit for hoping for something like when in reality you knew the truth. He’d been too busy with a girl to remember you. 

And yes you realize it wasn’t so much you specifically as it was your tutoring session, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You were a girl, a girl who blushed around cute guys and who wanted to hold hands and kiss and go on dates. And so what if it hurt your feelings a little bit that Steve had forgotten you? You could get over that. But what you wouldn’t get over, at least tonight, was that he’d taken advantage of someone wanting to help him and wasted your time. 

“Oh, yeah, everyone’s okay. It was more like a…a date, I guess.” 

“Right. And your phone stopped working?” 

He scratched at the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t hear it go off and when I saw all your texts I was already almost here so I just didn’t respond.” Well at least he’s honest. 

“Okay. Maybe you should try out a group session with Professor B before you rule it out completely, you might do well with it.” 

He pulled back, eyes wide and a look of surprise written across features. You get the feeling he’s not used to being told no, even indirectly. “What does that mean?” 

“It means that it’s not fair to me to waste my time. I agreed to this because I wanted to help you but if you couldn’t be bothered to show up on time or even call me to let me know you couldn’t make it, it doesn’t really give me hope that this will be beneficial for either of us.” 

His face hardens the slightest bit and despite the pull you have to be a people pleaser, to say sorry and that it’s okay, you hold strong and straighten your shoulders as he stares down at you. 

“So that’s it? One strike and I’m out?” There’s almost a scoff when he says it, like he can’t believe you and it only adds fuel to the fire burning in your chest. 

“Well you haven’t exactly made a great first impression. If a date is more important than math, that’s fine. I really don’t care. But I won’t clear my nights and sit in libraries alone for someone that doesn’t take this seriously.” You watch him take in your words, furrow between his brows getting deeper the more you talk and you just keep going. “And for the record, I don’t owe you more than one shot. What’s the point of this if you’ll just strike out?” 

“I don’t strike out.” 

A laugh of disbelief flies out of you, hands going up like your surrendering, “Really? That’s all you got out of what I just said?” He shrugged at you and despite his pretty face you felt nothing but contempt for him right now. 

“It was a mistake. I lost track of time. If you think you’re too good to give me a shot to prove that I care, then whatever.” 

“You’re an asshole! Don’t try to-to manipulate me into feeling bad about you doing something shitty. Me setting a boundary with you does not mean I think I’m too good, it means I know my time is worth something and I don’t have to put up with bullshit from people, especially someone I don’t even know!” You can see the regret on his face, the way his features soften and his shoulders slump. “Maybe next time set an alarm or don’t schedule a date on the same day as tutoring. Or maybe let someone know you won’t make it before they sit there waiting for 2 hours to help you out. And maybe if you don’t do any of that, show up and don’t be an asshole when they’re upset about it. Maybe learn that you’re not entitled to people’s time and effort just because you think you deserve it.” 

Finished with your little rant you take a breath, hoping he doesn’t lash out at you because you feel your courage waning and you just want to go home and sleep. 

But all he does is nod at you with dim eyes before he’s turning on his heel and walking in the other direction before you can say anything else. Not that you would, you think you’d gotten it all out when you were standing in the middle of an almost empty street scolding him like a toddler. 

Maybe you’d been wrong in your theories about Steve Harrington. Or maybe you just didn’t fall into the group of people that got to see a different side of him. 

————-

Steve felt like shit. 

He’d lost the nerve to say anything when you tore into him like you did, and he deserved it. It was an asshole move to be 2 fucking hours late and then get upset at you being upset with him. And all for what? A girl he barely knew, who didn’t even like him and called him once every few weeks when she was bored? To be fair he didn’t really like her either, so that made him only feel more shitty. 

You’d told him off, which didn’t happen often and regardless of how pissed off or embarrassed he’d been, it was hard to stay upset when he noticed the cute little twitch your nose would do when you yelled at him. 

And he felt bad because you were Robin’s friend, one of her best friends! He’d been hearing about you for what seemed like forever and now that he was actually going to spend some time with you, he’d blown it. He knew you were a sweetheart, quiet most of the time and always willing to do anything for others. It had been a low blow trying to make you feel bad, he knew that. But he really needed your help here and was willing to do anything to get it. Even if it meant guilting you into it, I guess. 

He was well aware of his reputation around campus, grade A asshole with girls hanging off his arms every weekend. Hell, he played into it most of the time. It was easier to just play into what people expected sometimes, even if that meant being a dick. 

And okay, maybe he was guilty of being kind of cocky sometimes. He could be a little smug but he never meant to come off like too much of a prick. He liked to think it was charming sometimes. 

But right now he was worried about passing algebra and making things right with you. Robin would kill him if he didn’t, and he owed it to you to at least try to be decent. 

That’s how he finds himself here, standing in front of you and Eddie where you’re perched in the shade under a big tree in the center of campus. Before last night he’s never said more than a hello to you and he doesn’t think he’s ever even been this close to Eddie. 

He watches the two of you, the way you lean into Eddie as he walks closer and the way Eddie narrows his eyes like a guard dog who’ll bite if he gets too close. He feels a twinge of something deep in his stomach watching you cling to Eddie and maybe it’s because you’re so pretty or maybe it’s because Robin has built you up in his head to be this angel that he’s kind of enamored with. 

“Can I talk to you?” He’s wearing sunglasses so you can’t see the way his eyes dart around your face and settle on the small pout you're wearing on your glossy, peach colored lips. 

“You didn’t have much to say last night, nothing good at least.” You had one hell of a backbone, he’d give you that. From what he’d heard from Robin you tended to try your best to appease the people around you so a little spark shot up his spine at the thought of you not backing down to him. 

He didn’t miss the way Eddie smirked, looking between your stern eyes and the pleading puppy dog look Steve was wearing. He nudged your shoulder to grab your attention, “Oh hear him out, yeah? It won’t hurt anything.” Steve gave Eddie a quick, grateful nod and turned back just in time to see you rolling your eyes at the both of them. 

“5 minutes, Harrington.” 

Eddie got up, gesturing for Steve to take his place as he grabbed his stuff and sent a reassuring wink your way. Steve thinks with all the friends he has, he doesn’t have any besides Robin that really count. Maybe if he quit being an ass, you and Eddie would be his friends too. 

“First I wanna apologize for being late, and for not calling or texting to let you know. I do care about school and I appreciate you taking the time to try and help me. I’m sorry I took that for granted.” He watches your lips part in what could either be shock or surprise and the small nod you give makes him keep going. “And I’m really sorry for the shitty stuff I said. It was a dick move trying to make you feel guilty when you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m lucky you even agreed to help me in the first place, s’not your job. I guess I’m just…used to getting my way. It sounds shitty to say it out loud but I guess we both know it’s true. I realize you don’t owe me anything and I haven’t done anything to earn a second chance, so I’m sorry. I’m gonna try out a group session and see how that goes, I think. But uh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not going to apologize for anything.” Well, he has to admit that is not what he expected to come out of your mouth. Your shoulders had softened the slightest bit but your eyes were still weary of him. 

“I don’t expect you to, you did nothing wrong. I deserved you telling me off. Hell, I probably needed it. I just wanted you to know I was sorry, you deserved to hear it.” 

When you don’t say anything for a few minutes he takes that as his sign to leave, pushing himself off the ground beside you and dusting off his pants before you stop him with a sigh of his name. 

“Thank you—for the apology. I can tell you mean it and that’s all I wanted. It sounds like you actually heard what I was saying and…and if you want a second shot, you’ve earned one.” 

“Really?” He smiled wide at you, hand grabbing yours that you’d held out and he lifted you up with ease. You nodded at him and he felt relief all over. He didn’t realize he still had your hand in his until you gave him a squeeze and he dropped it, shrugging shyly. 

“Two strikes and you are out, Steve. Don’t make me regret this.” 

He couldn’t help the cocky smirk he flashed, hands going to his hips, staring down and not missing the way your throat bobbed at how close he was. 

“I told you I don't strike out, didn’t I?”

—————

You were very pleasantly surprised by Steve’s apology, kind of shocked by it too. You hadn’t expected much to come out of your little rant, let alone him seeming so genuinely sorry about what had happened. And he seemed to understand what you said, he let it soak in and took accountability for it. 

When he was standing there so sincere and upset, you couldn’t help but to offer him another chance. This was the Steve you thought you’d seen, kind and attentive. You were happy you weren’t totally wrong about him. 

But one thing you did realize was that Steve Harrington was a pest. He got under your skin in the best way possible and lit you on fire in a way that nobody ever had. It’s like he lit a spark in you and you loved every second, even if you pretended like he got on your nerves. 

In the last two weeks you and Steve had gotten together about 4 times, and it was going well! You’d realized within one session with him that he just needed some one on one time with the material. He grasps the concepts much easier when he has someone to walk him through a few problems at his own pace. 

And he’d been on time to every single one, even early to a couple. Today he even showed up before you, the little eager student that he was. 

You noticed the more time you spent together over the last two weeks and the more comfortable Steve became, the more he liked to tease you and watch you flush red under his stare. 

Like now you’re sitting beside him—you had sat down across from him but he pouted like a child and said it would be easier if you were closer—and he’s complaining about the quadratic formula for the millionth time. 

“We’re almost done, Steve. Two more problems and you’re free to go.” 

“I think I should get a reward for all this.” He would probably stomp his foot at you if he was standing up and you can’t help but huff a small laugh at the little frown he’s wearing, chin in his hand and shoulders slumped in annoyance. 

“You do. You’ll pass the class.”

He’s not amused by this, rolling his eyes and pinching the bare skin of your thigh where your shorts have moved from you shifting in your chair. You watch the spot turn pink and his touch, even something so quick and simple, has you buzzing. 

“Lame. I was thinking more of a kiss, let me have a quick taste of those pretty lips.” No matter how many times he mentions your mouth or how’d you taste it never fails to thrill you, your face heating and your eyes darting everywhere but his. 

It’s even worse when you watch the way he watches you, leaned back in his chair with his thighs spread and a smug look on his face. He’ll flash his teeth at you in a smile and send a quick wink that has you having to stop yourself from sinking between his open legs. He knows what he does to you and he loves it, soaks it up and never gets tired of it. 

You’ve turned back to your own notes, leaving Steve to work on the last few problems and of course he does anything but. It’s only been a few minutes when you feel something brush across your hair, you ignore it. A few seconds later something soft hits your cheek, and you ignore it. But when it hits your forehead you turn to him with a scowl, a little ball of paper between his fingers. 

“You are a child.” You swat at his chest and regret it when he catches your wrist in his hand, skin turning hot under his touch. You can’t look away from where his fingers wrap around you and it makes you dizzy to feel his rough hands against your skin. 

“Hit me again, baby.” 

That was another thing that had started, the pet names. He used your name sometimes, but called you baby, sweetheart, or doll when he wanted to make you stutter your words and stumble through your sentences. 

He’s smirking at you, eyes light and filled with amusement at the way your neck is turning a bright pink, reaching and reaching until your ears are burning. “C’mon, please?” 

“No reward for you if you don’t finish those problems.” Despite the turmoil going on inside your voice sounds cool, unaffected, and you thank god for that. 

“Fine. I can be a good boy when I want to be.” 

Ignoring him, you turn back to your notes, far too distracted to actually pay attention to them anymore but you still stare at the paper in front of you. You’re pleasantly surprised when he actually goes back to his work, finishing the problems quickly and you beam at him when they’re all right. 

“See! I told you, just need to take your time with this stuff. I’m proud of you, Steve.” For once he’s the one blushing, brushing it off like it’s nothing and asking for his reward. You should have known, a child never forgets a promise you make them. 

Leaning forward his eyes widen, darting over your face to check if this is really happening. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, not used to playing his games with him and it takes all the courage you have to let your lips brush over the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, before they find the shell of his ear. He’s still beside you, anticipating your next move and if you weren’t so hell bent on teasing him back, you’d kiss him right now. 

Your lips graze him and it’s your turn to smirk when his grip on the table in front of you tightens. His knuckles are white and his jaw is set with you so close to him. 

“Ice cream. That’s your reward.” 

Pulling back quickly so you can see his reaction, you beam at the way his lips are parted and his chest is heaving a little harder than it should be. He just watches you with wide eyes before something settles over him. Something that makes your stomach flutter and tells you you’ve started something that you won’t win. 

When he speaks you can’t help but watch the way his mouth wraps around the words so sensually you feel it all over, like he’s touching every inch of your skin and it’s addicting. 

“Perfect. M’dying for something sweet.” 

———-

He can’t stop thinking about the feeling of your lips on his skin, even if it lasted all of three seconds it’s running through his mind on a loop and making his head a mess. 

God he wishes you would have just bit down on him, sunk your teeth into his skin and let him feel your tongue soothe the burn. 

You’re walking side by side to your favorite ice cream place now, the sun is out and bright but despite that there’s a nice breeze that cools his skin. You would have already been there but he had to spend fifteen minutes distracting you from leaving just so he could stand up without getting arrested for indecent exposure. 

Remembering the small smile of victory you had makes him smile, but not as big as he’ll be smiling when he gets you back. He loves watching you preen under his touch, loves the way your chest rises and falls a little faster when he leans in towards you and loves even more the way your eyes go all big and round and your cheeks turn bright red when he says something cheeky. 

Spending some time with you over the last two weeks, it’s obvious to him why Robin is so obsessed with you. You’re hilarious, sometimes you make him laugh so hard his stomach hurts and he has tears in his eyes. He’d known you were a sweetheart but getting to see it firsthand gave him a goddamn toothache. Watching the way you smile at him so proudly when something finally clicks, how you listen to someone with such intent, no matter what they’re talking about. You’re just so kind and good that he wants to be as close to you as possible at all times. 

But this is the first time you two are venturing outside of the library together and he thinks he’ll spend much more time convincing you to do things with him besides math. Now that he’s got a taste he needs more, craves it. 

He doesn’t even notice you’ve arrived until you’re tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and giving him a smile as sweet as honey as you wordlessly point at the ice cream shop he’d just walked past.

Pulling open the door he lets you go first and looks around to see only a few people besides them in the shop. Perfect. 

Since there’s no line, you both go quickly. You opt for chocolate chip cookie dough in a cup and he decides on mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone. He notices the way your nose scrunches all cute at his choice and he rolls his eyes as he pulls out his card to pay before you can. 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’s gonna say it tastes like toothpaste or something.” Your jaw drops in offense and he has to roll his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing at how cute you are. 

“I wasn’t! I only made that face because I almost got it myself.” 

“And the thought of having a similar taste to me is making you feel sick?” 

“No, just didn’t peg you as a mint chocolate chip guy.” 

“So you’ve been thinking about pegging me.” He knows you’ve realized what you’ve done before the words even leave his mouth and he smirks at you anyways. He’ll take any chance to get you all flustered and riled up. 

“Pay for my damn ice cream, Harrington.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just quietly snickers to himself while you go and find a place to sit. He notices the way you choose a seat in the corner, far away from anyone else in the shop and he smiles. You probably know what’s coming, waiting for the other shoe to drop after your little stunt at the library and he loves seeing you all worked up and on edge. 

He likes it a little too much. 

Instead of sitting in the seat across from you he slips in the booth beside you instead, watching your eyes dart to the side to watch him carefully. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, he always takes any opportunity to be close to you. 

Slinging an arm around your shoulder he lets his fingertips toy with your hair, smiling when he feels you relax into him. “Can I have a bite?” You seem to not think anything of his request, lifting your spoon up to his mouth and he lets you slip it between his lips, your eyes trained on his mouth and his on you. 

He hums around the spoon and lets his teeth catch when you drag it from his mouth. You shake your head at him, leaning slightly against his chest and enjoying the quiet between you too. 

It’s go time. 

“Wanna bite?” He’s looking down at you and you nod sheepishly, leaning forward to meet him halfway when he moves his cone towards your mouth. Right when he reaches your lips he moves the cone an inch over and touches the ice cream against the corner of your mouth. 

Before you can reach for a napkin he grabs your wrist, smiling all innocent when you look at him with confusion in your eyes. “I got it, don’t worry.” 

And when he leans forward and moves his head down to be eye level with you, he smirks at the hitch in your breath when he leans forward and lets his tongue swipe over the sweetness there, his tongue catching the corner of your mouth. 

The spoon clatters on the table between you and he hasn’t moved, face just inches away from yours and his hand isn’t playing with your hair anymore, it’s gripping the back of the booth so tight it hurts. 

“Steve..” A breathless little plea leaves your now clean mouth and it takes everything in him not to go in for another taste. He pulls back just enough to watch your eyes flutter close and your head fall back to lay against his arm that’s still behind you. There’s a shine on your cheek from his spit and he’s so hard he can feel his heartbeat all through his body. 

Despite the cockiness running through him at the way you’ve melted, his voice is quiet and breathless just like yours when he speaks where only you can hear him. “What? Just cleaning you up, messy girl.” 

He feels something cold on his hand and looks down to see his ice cream melting, spilling over the cone and running down his fingers. When he looks back he sees you staring at them too, a look in your eyes that has him reeling. 

If there wasn’t anyone else here he’d have you lick his fingers clean, he can see the way you’re itching to do it.

But there’s more people coming into the shop and he’s seconds away from dragging you into the bathroom so he needs to get you out of here, get into the fresh air and out of the little bubble you’ve created. 

“You ready, Stevie?” He loves when you call him that, it makes his chest feel all warm and he just wants to nuzzle into you when you say it. He must have been staring at you, too busy thinking about how bad he wanted you to do anything else. 

He nods, sliding out of the booth and holding out his now clean hand to you, body buzzing when you take it and he feels your skin against his. You walk out and into the street and the breeze on his skin is a life saver. 

Your apartment is just two blocks away from the ice cream shop and the walk there is quiet, both of you thinking about his tongue so close to your mouth. His hand brushes yours as you walk and he feels his fingers twitch with the need to slip your hands together. 

“Good reward then?” It’s you that breaks the silence and he’s grateful, his heart racing in his chest despite the smug smirk he’s wearing looking down at you. 

“Oh baby, the best.”

—————

You and Steve spend about four days a week together at this point and you’re not convinced he even needs that much tutoring but you don’t complain. You’ll take any chance to spend some time with him. 

The two of you have also decided to forgo the library, taking turns having it at his place or yours and most times you work on actual school stuff for about half an hour before he’s distracting you with a movie or a game or a promise of food. 

It’s been a few weeks since that day at the ice cream shop, where he licked the corner of your mouth and sent you spiraling. Having him that close was overwhelming enough, let alone feeling him on your skin. 

Since then things haven’t changed much, he teases you and sometimes you retaliate but oftentimes you just sit there red faced and let him enjoy how flustered he makes you. He’s still touchy and smug all the time, but hasn’t put his tongue anywhere near you since. Unfortunately. 

Tonight you’re both at your place, you lying out across your couch in a t-shirt and pajama shorts that really don’t fit you anymore but you refuse to get rid of. Steve is on the floor in front of you stretched out and scrolling through his phone while you switch between watching the tv and watching him. 

He’s been less like himself tonight, quiet and there's a little furrow between his brows that has you worried. By this point he’d usually be wrapped around you, playing with your hair or rubbing at your neck. But he’d barely touched you today, barely teased you and you wondered what had happened between yesterday and today that had him so out of sorts. 

Regardless of his mood, he takes time to admire the way your ass peaks out of the bottom of those shorts, his jaw clenching when he gets a peak at the smooth skin there. He can spot where your ass meets your thigh and he wants to bury his face there. 

You're pulled from your thoughts when he sits up, sitting his phone on the edge of the couch beside you and using your thigh to hoist himself off the ground. “Be right back, honey.” 

You just nod, stretching out your legs and trying to memorize how the heat of his palm felt gripping your skin. He goes to the bathroom, the click of the lock sounding out at the same time his phone lights up beside you. 

You don’t mean to look. Really, you planned to call out to him and go back to the shitty reality tv show that was playing in front of you but when you see a name you recognize you can’t help but to look. 

And you immediately regret it. 

Brooke: Are you still coming over tonight? It’s been over a month, I miss you. 

The blood drains from your body and you feel a pit so deep in your stomach you think you might be sick. You know Brooke, everyone knows Brooke. And you don’t keep up with that Steve does but he’s spent most of his time with you for the last month, so you can’t help but wonder if the last time he saw her was the day of his first tutoring session. 

And that should make you feel a little better, should dull the raging jealousy coursing through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t because from her text, he’s already made plans to go over. Maybe this is why he’s being so weird tonight, he’s ready to go see…her. And then you’re even more upset because it was your idea to hang out tonight and you wish he would have just said no because then you wouldn’t have seen this text and you wouldn’t feel like you’re about to cry. 

You and Steve weren’t together, hadn’t even gone on a date or kissed or been anything more than friends. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t developed this huge crush on him that’s taken over every part of your brain. And the teasing, the touches, they meant something to you. 

Maybe that was your mistake. 

Maybe he’s that way with everyone and you read too much into it. Maybe you’ve spent so much time together because he actually did need that much help with fucking algebra and stuck around because he felt like he owed you or something. 

In a matter of seconds your whole friendship was Steve was up in the air in front of you and you found yourself dissecting every interaction and graze of skin and now you just wanted to curl up into your bed and forget all of it. 

You liked him, a lot more than you would care to admit and for the first time since that first night, you felt uncomfortable being in the same place as him. 

The click of the bathroom lock snaps you from your spiral and you pull yourself off the couch, gathering up trash from the snacks you’d eaten so you don’t have to look him in the eye. And you shouldn’t say anything, should pretend it didn’t happen and figure this out later but you can’t help but let the words slip out when he walks back into your living room. 

“Got a text while you were in the bathroom.” He doesn’t say anything but doesn’t really have the chance because you’re rushing into the kitchen and deciding that now is the best time to do those dishes you meant to do before he came over. 

Hopefully he’ll just…go. You know he won’t but maybe that would be easier if you didn’t have to see him again tonight or smell him or touch him. The water is hot, too hot to be sticking your hands under but scrubbing at this plate is all that’s keeping the tears that are building from falling down your cheeks. 

“Y/n…” He’s behind you now, close enough that you can feel his presence and you know if you just took one step back you’d be pressed up against his chest, you’d feel the warmth that always comes from him. So you stay where you are, the edge of the sink digging into your stomach but you try and scoot closer to it anyways. 

A noncommittal hum is all he gets from you. You don’t move your head to look at him, you can’t because if you do you’re not sure you won’t cry. And you can’t let him see you cry over something that was never there. 

“Can you look at me? Please?” His voice is low and sweet, a hint of a plea in his tone that makes your insides twist painfully. You just shake your head, scrubbing at this plate so hard you’re worried it might snap in your grip. 

His hand is on your shoulder now and a shaky breath escapes your lips, the tears building behind your eyes and you will them away. There's nothing to cry over. He’s your friend. That’s all. “If you need to leave, that’s fine. Seriously it’s—you can go if you want.” Your voice cracks the slightest bit, but he notices. Of course he does. 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” 

Your chest hurts at the endearment and you squeeze your eyes shut tight because you know he’s wearing that puppy dog look he does so well. You know his eyes are round and full of concern, or even worse, pity. You know his bottom lip is jutting out in a pout and it makes you want to take the plate you’ve scrubbed clean and smash it into a million pieces. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Steve, it’s that he won’t give in. He’ll stand behind you all night, miss his date with Brooke if that’s what it takes. He won’t give up until you’re looking at him, but you don’t know why. Don’t know why he wants to see you upset. But you turn around anyways, cheeks blotchy and a sheen of tears ready to fall at any given moment. 

His lips part softly and his hands are hovering between you, not sure if he should reach over and touch you. “It’s not—she’s not…I don’t want to leave.” 

“Okay.” 

“I don’t know why I even made the plans in the first place! I’d rather be here with you anyways.” 

“Okay.” 

He’s pacing in front of you now, hands fisted in his hair and he looks like he’s freaking out, chewing on his bottom lip and mumbling under his breath while you just stand there and stare at your feet on the floor. 

“I’ve just been…my mind has been fucked lately and I don’t know what I even think anymore and I do stupid shit when I don’t know what do to.” 

“Okay, Steve.” 

“Are you just gonna keep saying okay?” He’s stopped pacing, the stare he’s wearing keeps you still in place against the sink and you feel like shrinking under his gaze. 

“What do you want me to say? If you want to go hang out with her, you can! You’re an adult, Steve. You don’t have to spend all your time with me.” 

“But I want to.” Heart thudding hard in your chest you try to make sense of what he’s saying, what he’s not saying. He’s giving you something, dancing around what he wants to say and you won’t give yourself false hope, won’t read too far into this. You’ve become friends, best friends even and you don’t want to fuck that up. 

“Then stay.” 

You should talk about this, you know it and he knows it. You should get everything out in the open so there’s no more secret plans and unshed tears but you don’t. Instead he nods at you, coming closer and wrapping his arms around you so you’re nuzzled against his chest. Neither of you say anything, just sit there wrapped up in each other for who knows how long before he pulls back and tugs you to the living room, sitting down and pulling you into his side with no words spoken between you. 

The show drones on around you, but you’re not paying attention. Your mind is too busy, too many thoughts swirling around to even try and focus on anything but him. He sinks down further into the couch and you move with him, your head resting against his chest and his hand lying still on your hip. 

“M’sorry I made you sad. Never want to do that, you’re too pretty to cry over me, too sweet.” 

You just nod against him, closing your eyes and feeling the thump of his chest on your cheek. He doesn’t say anything else and you’re grateful. 

————-

It’s been almost a week since that night in your apartment. A week since Steve got that text and you almost lost your shit. A week since you realized how deep your feelings for him actually ran. 

When you had woken up that next day Steve was still there, hand still on your hip with his head thrown back in what couldn’t be comfortable as he slept beside you. He woke up soon after and both of you just…pretended it hadn’t happened. The last week had been normal, so normal you’d convinced yourself that night was some sort of glitch. 

Steve continued to spend most of his days with you, continued to flash those smug grins your way when he sees something inappropriate and you continue to flush under his stare, preen under his praise and stick to his side like glue. 

That’s how you are now, sprawled under that same big tree Steve had come to apologize to you under all those weeks ago. He’s sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him and your head is on his lap, Eddie beside you hunched over and working on something you can’t see, Robin beside Steve with a book she’s not reading in her hand. 

He’d also been spending more time with the three of you and it made your heart warm. All your favorite people getting along and hanging out.

“We should all go to Lansdowne this weekend.” That suggestion couldn’t have come from anyone but Steve. Eddie scrunches his nose at the thought immediately, tongue sticking out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. Robin groans like she’s physically pained by the thought. 

“Now don’t sound too excited.” Lansdowne was a little pub near Fenway Park that Steve was obsessed with. They usually had live music and were packed to the brim with bodies every weekend. Robin and Eddie despised it, always too crowded for their liking. 

“I’ll go, Steve. But you’re buying my first drink.” 

“That’s my girl!” He patted your head like you were a puppy, grin wide as he turned to stick out his tongue at Eddie and Robin who just rolled their eyes dramatically and went back to ignoring whatever Steve would ramble on about next. 

Neither of you noticed the way Eddie and Robin watched you, knowing smiles on both their faces as they took the sight of you two in. They watched Steve brush your hair out of your face, a look of fondness on his face that Robin hasn’t seen him show anyone before. They watch you snuggle into him, content and comfort written all over your features. 

————-

There was a small bit of regret about quickly agreeing to go out with Steve. Friday came before you knew it and you were tired, so tired from a long week of school and work. It seemed like everything that could have gone wrong this week, did and it had you mentally and physically drained. 

The temptation to text Steve and bail was clawing at you, but you couldn’t. Usually spending time with him was something that made you feel better, so you hoped that was the case tonight. 

It was nice out, not too hot but just warm enough to indulge in summer clothes. Dressing up for tonight was out of the question, you needed to be comfy if you were going to be squished against sweaty bodies and pulled through big crowds. 

That was how you found yourself now, tucked into Steve’s side at the bar at 11pm with a short denim skirt snug around your hips that you’d found in the back of your drawer and a cropped pink t-shirt that molded to your chest. A few inches of skin showed above your skirt and the feel of Steve’s palm resting there had you blushing already. 

You were both three drinks in, a nice buzz in your veins that had you giggling into his chest without embarrassment. When you’d seen him tonight, you knew you were going to need some liquid reinforcements to survive. He’d been wearing a dark green button up that he left undone, tight white tank top underneath that showed the outline of his chest. A pair of light wash denim jeans cinched around his waist with a belt. 

There might have been an audible gulp at the sight of him, but with three dirty shirley’s pumping through you, you eyed him up without care, taking in every inch of him with a palpable hunger. 

His breath is hot against your skin when he leans down to try and whisper in your ear, but ends up talking much louder than he meant to. “Forgot to mention it’s karaoke night.” 

“I am not participating in that.” 

That little frown he does when he doesn’t get his way pops up, lips pouted at you like you’d stolen his candy. “Why not?” 

“Between the two of us you’re the rockstar, Harrington, not me.” 

Before he could open his mouth to argue, someone called his name from across the bar, a man holding a clipboard that looked less than impressed with his job. Somehow in the short time you’d been here Steve had gotten his name down on the list for karaoke without you knowing, and it was his turn now. 

He gave you a quick wink that had you almost melting before him, a small smirk as he squeezed your shoulder and started to push his way through the crowds of people. “Eyes on me, baby.” 

Liked you’d be able to look anywhere else. 

You watch him hop up on the small stage that’s only a few feet tall, no hint of nervousness on his face as he smiles at the small crowd that’s paying attention to him. There’s lights focused on him and you think he was made to be in the spotlight with how good he looks up there. You’re somewhere in the middle of the crowd but he spots you easily, winking before he strips off his button down, tossing it to the side of him. 

The sight of him up there with his tank top tucked nicely into his jeans does little to help with the fuzziness you were already feeling from the drinks. You’re careful not to drool at his arms on display, bulging slightly when he lifts them to grip his hands around the mic. 

“Hello, Boston!” 

You’d think this was his personal show the way the crowd cheered back at him, encouraging what you know was nothing but mischievous behavior. He’s getting the attention of more of the bar the longer he stands up there and you can’t blame them, he’s a sight to see. 

“You all look beautiful tonight!” 

A laugh bubbles out of you when the beginning notes of Mr. Brightside by the Killers boom from the speakers behind him, not sure why you expected anything else from him. 

He’s practically bouncing on his heels as he sings the first few notes—and so is his hair. But your laughter and amusement is quickly replaced by something fiery and strong that builds in your stomach as you watch him. 

His hands are wrapped around the microphone in front of him, eyes screwed shut when he gets to the chorus and you feel like you’re on fire. During a pause his head is thrown back, throat bobbing for everyone to see and you try to trace the beads of sweat running down his throat from your spot in the middle of the bar. 

When he starts singing again—and fuck he’s good—his eyes are open and on yours, coming so close to the microphone you can see the way his lips pucker against it on certain notes and you’re thankful it’s so packed in here, the people around you keeping you from falling to the ground. 

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

About seven feet are between you but with the bright lights shining on him you watch in awe as his raspberry lips wrap around the words and his tongue swipes out and darts across them every few seconds. He looks ethereal on that stage, hair slicked back from running his fingers through it and hips rocking side to side in time with the beat. 

His voice is pure silk and honey, like he was born to sing this song and it has your heart racing so fast in your chest it’s hard to catch your breath. He’s jumping around, putting on a noteworthy performance while the patrons around you yell and dance with him. 

Every once in a while his nose bumps against the mic and you can’t get over how alluring he looks with his lips grazing the mic. He’s captivating, stealing the attention of almost everyone in the room now and your heart swells in your chest. 

It takes you a second longer to realize the song has ended, cheers and hollering making your ears ring as he basks in the attention on stage. You can see that cocky smirk from here, his eyes dark and cheeks red as he blows you a kiss when he catches your eyes again. 

Maybe you could use another drink after all. 

 —————

Steve was sweaty from karaoke, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck, button up he’d been wearing thrown somewhere and he was sure he’d never see it again. The tank top he wore was clinging to his skin and he wished he could peel it off, the stickiness in the air of the bar doing nothing to cool him down. 

But he saw the way you watched him up there, your eyes trained on his mouth or his hands the whole time and it made him feel electric. The way you licked your lips like he was your next meal could have him on his knees for you in an instant. 

He’d lost you when he got off the small stage, eyes searching through the crowd and sighing in relief when he finds you standing by the bar, chin in your palm as you swirl your drink around. 

That relief is short-lived when he sees some douche come up beside you, a charming grin plastered on his face and his eyes dark as he takes you in. Steve sees red when he places one of his hands on your waist, his palm touching your bare skin since you’d chosen a crop top for tonight. 

Possessiveness stirs in his belly, hands fisted at his side at the laugh you give him. It’s fake, he can tell, but it still makes his jaw clench uncomfortably. 

You’re not interested in this guy, he can see that. You’ve leaned back enough to create some space between the two of you and your eyes dart around the bar quickly and he knows you’re looking for him. 

Little did you know that even if you weren’t looking for him, he’d still be there. He’d always be there. Couldn’t keep himself away from you even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He’d become addicted to your strawberry scent and your sweet little giggles. He’d become addicted to you. 

It’s when this asshole lifts his hand to brush a piece of your hair away from your face that Steve starts to move, shoulders shoving through the crowd with ease and he sees the way your body relaxes when you catch sight of him heading towards you. 

The thought of someone else touching your skin, feeling how smooth it is and how it warms up under their touch has him gritting his teeth. His jaw twitches thinking about you looking up at someone besides him with stars in your eyes. 

When he’s within reach he lays his hand on your exposed thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there and placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Told ya I’d be right back, doll.” He doesn’t acknowledge the man beside him, eyes focused on yours. 

Your thighs clamp shut around his hand and a devious smirk plays on his lips at the feeling. “Who’s this?” He cocks his head towards the man that had been trying to talk to you, not looking his way but finally acknowledging his presence. Douchebag is still there, watching the scene unfold in front of him with little amusement. 

“I-I don’t know. We were just talking.” Steve hums at you, eyes drinking in the little drops of sweat rolling down your neck and down your shirt. He’s itching to lean forward and collect them on his tongue, to taste any part of you he can get his hands on. 

You yelp when his fingers pinch at your inner thigh, hands coming up to grip his forearm in surprise. He doesn’t miss the way your hips shifted forward though, searching for his touch instinctively. 

“Don’t want these boys talking to you, do you?” He’s leaning closer to you but still talking loud enough that the prick who can’t take a hint can hear him. You shake your head quickly and he smiles. “It’s because you’re my girl, isn't it baby? Want them to know you’re mine to take home, mine to play with, mine to keep.” 

At this point he’s not even talking for the benefit of saving you from some creep in a bar, you both know that. He’s not just staking his claim so they’ll leave you alone, he’s telling you the truth, what you both already know but refuse to talk about. He’s yours as much as you are his. It’s been that way for weeks. 

For him it’s been that way since you ripped him a new one, tore into him for being an asshole with your big round eyes that twitched in anger at his attitude. 

You’re nodding at him with blown out eyes, thighs still keeping his hand trapped between them. The guy you’d been talking to is long gone but neither of you seem to notice or care. 

“So say it.” His lips are tilted in a smirk, knowing eyes watching you shift and squirm under his stare. He feels himself thickening in his pants, head of his cock pressed up against the zipper painfully but he doesn’t care. He’d stand here in pain all night if you kept looking at him like that. 

“I’m your girl.” 

His chest swells with pride, grinning down at you and watching you just eat up the unsaid praise. You’re blooming under his gaze, chest puffing out the slightest bit and his mouth waters. 

It’s hard to breathe when you’re looking at him like that. His stomach feels tight and a feeling he can’t quite describe takes over. He wants to feel your skin on his, to taste you, smell you, anything you’ll give him. But he also feels like he could be sick, just looking at you being too much for him right now. 

He uses his thumb to tap on your thigh so you’ll open them for him, pulling his hand out and tugging on your wrist to pull you back to the middle of the dance floor. Your obedience thrills him, makes his spine tingle and heart race. He should’ve known you were a good girl, the best one really. You don’t even question him as he grips your hips in his hand, pulling you flush against him while the music booms around you. 

Neither of you are really moving, just standing there pressed together while bodies push and move around you. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer so that he can lean down and talk in your ear where you’ll hear him. 

“Saw the way you were watching me up on the stage earlier.” 

Your hands are clinging to his shirt and he feels your grip tighten, smiling knowingly against your ear. He loved the way you watched him, the way your eyes never left him like you were mesmerized. 

“You looked good up there, like a natural.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm, my rockstar.” 

The praise shoots down his spine and makes his body buzz. He’s watching the way your hair flows over your shoulder and he wants to tug on it, make your head fall back and expose your throat to him. 

You pressed against him mixed with the sticky air surrounding you is too much, his head feels fuzzy and he’s seconds away from biting on your lips and licking into your mouth. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

———————

In hindsight, deciding to take the train at 1 am on a Friday night was a stupid idea. Anyone and everyone in the city chose that time to pile on. For a second you’re worried you’ll lose Steve in the crowd of people but a few seconds later you feel his fingers slip through yours and tug you to his side. 

“Can’t risk losing my precious cargo.” 

The ringing in your ears is either from the feel of his skin touching yours or the tell tale screech of the train approaching. When it pulls up in front of you, your cringe at how crowded it already is, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat before you even step on. The doors open and Steve is pulling you through the bunches of people, tugging you through and moving you to stand in front him when he sees an opening. 

Your back is pressed against the opposing doors and you sigh in relief at the coolness it provides. That relief is short lived when you peek over Steve’s shoulder to see more people piling on. He presses closer to you to make room and your heart thuds harshly against your chest. 

His feet are spread slightly to be on either side of yours, arms over your head to hold on to the railing and it feels like he’s caging you in. He’s pressed up against you completely, your chin touching his chest and lips hover near your forehead. 

It doesn’t help that his arms are on full display, button up he was wearing long gone since before karaoke and instead adorned in a white tank top that’s like a second skin. It’s hugging his chest and waist and it’s taking everything in you not to lean forward and nip at his arm. 

And then you’re thinking about how he looked on stage. Pure sex as he captivated the crowd with his effortless charm and talent. You think you could watch him like that forever. 

Fuck. All you could feel was him, his breath on your skin and his body keeping yours snug against the doors. You’re not sure you could even move, not that you wanted to. Tilting your head back an inch you look up at him, eyes glancing over his strawberry mouth that’s tilted into a smirk, looking up further to see how he’s watching you closely. 

Honey eyes staring into yours scream mischief and when you breathe in you feel your knees falter, a sweetness washing over your senses. Just the smell of him was enough to have your skin tingling, hints of cherry and vanilla from where you were practically nuzzled against his throat. 

Your hand was wrapped tightly against the pole in front of you and the feel of the cool metal against your palm did little to help with the heat you felt burning through your chest. The train lurched forward and the hand that was dangling by your side shot out to fist at the fabric of Steve’s shirt. The fucking white tank top he was wearing. 

“Eager, are we?” His tone was teasing and when you took a quick glance down to see a sliver of his stomach showing where you had his shirt tight in your grasp, your thighs squeezed together involuntarily. 

“Oh please.You just happened to be the closest thing to me, Harrington.” 

He feigned offense, knowing smirk never leaving his face and you stifled a groan when you felt his stomach twitch against your hand. You thought that if you had to be pressed against him for much longer you might just pass out. 

When you look up to see you still have a few stops before yours, you release your grip on his shirt and try not to notice the disappointment that floods through you when your hold on him is gone. He seems to notice too, eyebrows furrowing for a split second before his expression goes back and he’s smiling down at you again. 

“Ya know,” He tilts his head to the side like he’s wondering about something important but his expression holds nothing good. “You look good like this, pressed up against me all flushed and pretty.” 

Arousal seeps down your spine and curls around your belly like a boa constrictor, your throat all of a sudden dry and you can’t seem to do anything but blink up at him. 

“Going dumb already? You really are precious cargo.” 

You have about an ounce of self control left and that’s what keeps you from letting a whimper slip into the sticky air between you. You know he can read your emotions on your face but you try and school your features anyways, lifting your leg that’s trapped between his and pressing your weight down on his foot. 

It just makes his sickly sweet smile even bigger and your breath hitches when he leans down to press his lips against the shell of your ear. You dig your fingertips into your palm when he lets his tongue swipe against his bottom lip and it catches your skin as it does. 

“Trying to hurt me, baby? Why don’t you bite me next? Pretty please?” He brings his hand up between you as he talks, uses his thumb to swipe at your bottom lip and if you weren’t on the fucking train you’d part your lips for him and take his thumb into your mouth. You think you want that a little too much to be so close to him right now. 

For the first time since you’ve moved here, the train is your saving grace. The doors pull open and the cool air of the night hits you, breaking you from whatever little trance Steve had put you under. It clears out enough that he can step to your side now, giving you some much needed space to try and get yourself together. 

The chatter around you has died down and while you feel marginally more in control of yourself, the smell of Steve and the feel of his arm brushing against yours beside you is enough to keep you on your toes. 

“Cooling down over there?” 

“Yes actually, no thanks to you.” 

He shrugs his shoulders innocently and if he hadn’t just been whispering in your ear about liking the pain then you might actually believe the sweet look he was wearing on his face. “Oops.” 

The next stop is yours and while you’re trying to figure out if Steve is coming with you or if you’re gonna have to figure out some weird goodbye, he’s already five steps ahead. When the train comes to a stop and the doors open he’s grabbing your hand again and pulling you out of the train and into the breeze that cools the sweat on your neck. 

“M’gonna walk you home, okay?” You nod wordlessly, letting your hands swing gently between you as you make your way through the now quiet streets. Everyone is either deep into the city until the bars close or already tucked away in their beds after a long work week. Few people litter the streets but you don’t hear much besides the buzz of the train pulling away and the soft hum coming from the person beside you. 

It doesn’t take long before you reach your building nestled in between two others that look just like it and while you fumble through your bag for your keys you feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the bar.” 

A noncommittal hum is all you give him and he’s not a fan of that, reaching forward and plucking your apartment key from between your fingers before you even register what’s happening. You reach out automatically but he’s pulling back and out of your reach. 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” You know what he’s asking and you’re just making this harder for the both of you but he’s had you so on edge since he got on stage and was all…rockstar and sex that you’re scared about what might come out of your mouth if you’re not careful. 

“Why have you been so quiet since we left the bar?” 

“Not much to say I guess…”

“Bullshit.” 

You blink at him owlishly, lips parted in surprise but you can’t deny the little tingle that starts at your toes and makes its way up your body at him calling you out. “Excuse me?” Your voice sounds pathetic and breathless to your own ears at this point so you can only imagine how you look to Steve right now. 

“I call bullshit. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you blush every time you make eye contact or you look at my arms,” Fuck he caught you. “Or the way you clench those pretty thighs everytime I whisper in your ear or get a little too close to you.” 

Your chest is rising and falling harshly and if he wasn’t taking up every inch of your brain right now you’d be embarrassed by how he had you panting at him. Any confusion he had vanishes and you curse yourself for being so easy for him to read. Like a fucking open book. 

“Oh that’s it. Scared of what might come out of that pouty little mouth, aren’t you? You listen to me talk to you all sweet and dirty and it just makes you all dumb, doesn’t it? S’cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up! You…you idiot.” It was a weak attempt at a comeback and you felt yourself scrunch your nose at yourself while Steve chuckled. He stepped closer, his hands on his hips as he looked down at you. 

“That’s the best you got?” You were toe to toe now—literally—and you felt yourself shrinking under his gaze. You hated how good he was at making you squirm, how you felt his words on your skin like standing under the sun in the summer heat. But most of all you despised that you didn’t hate it at all.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? A big one.” 

He flashed his teeth at you, hand going up to his chest like your words hurt him. “Oooh there ya go, that’s a little better. But if you’re gonna call me names, I’ve got some you can try. How about dadd—”

“Steve!” You practically hissed at him, smacking his shoulder and huffing like a child at the way he laughed loudly at your expense. He laughed so hard there were little crinkles in the corner of his eyes, grin so big his dimples popped out and you had to stop yourself from poking at it. 

“Alright, alright. No need to get violent, baby. At least take me to dinner first.” Rolling your eyes you snatched your key from him while he was occupied, turning to your door and muttering under your breath. Asshole. Jerk. Moron. Hot. Hot. Hot. 

He laid his hand on your shoulder softly to get your attention and when you turned back he was rolling his lips together, trying to keep his amusement at bay for your sake. He had a way of doing that you’d noticed, looking like a little puppy dog when he wanted to. You hated how much it worked. 

“M’done, I swear. For tonight at least. Thanks for coming out with me, I had a lot of fun.” 

“I did too, even if you’re a pest.” 

“Oh c’mon, you love it.” I do. God I love it so much it’s kind of sick. 

“In your dreams, Harrington,” You knew you set yourself up when he opened his mouth, that gleam in his eye that meant nothing but trouble. You beat him to it though, and the little pout he wore made you melt. “Text me when you get home safe, okay? And thanks for walking me home.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart.” 

Reaching up like he was going to sweep you hair out of your eyes, he must’ve changed his mind because he pinched your cheek instead, laughing to himself when you grumbled at him and smacked his hand away. 

You’d watched as he walked away, watched until you couldn’t see him anymore before you finally went inside, trudging up the stairs to your apartment and feeling your nerves settle once you were finally alone.

It was like you could breathe again, that ache you’d felt all night still thumping but more dull now than it had been in his presence. You finally felt cool and relaxed. Until your phone buzzed about twenty minutes later. 

Steve: Made it home safe and sound. Not a scratch on me.

Steve: Well besides the ones you left on me when you were pawing at me on the train! 

Y/n: Idiot! 

Steve: We really need to work on expanding your vocabulary. Maybe I could tutor you. :)

Steve: Whoops I meant ;), it’s hard to type one handed. 

You gasped and you swear you’d just burst into flames from how hot your face felt staring down at your phone. Was he…he wouldn’t. But did you mind if he did? No. Fuck, no. But you couldn’t just let him know that. 

Y/n: Steve Harrington you are sick! 

Steve: What?? I’m eating cereal and texting you! Trying to multitask here. 

Steve: Get your mind out of the gutter you filthy girl. 

He’d played you and you took the bait so easily! At this point you should know he’d take any opportunity to embarrass you, you both knew you loved it. He loved getting you all flushed and squirmy and you loved pretending like it didn’t light you up inside. 

Now you were thinking about him touching himself, your thighs sore from squeezing together and your heart racing. You wanted to know how he looked doing it, what he sounded like…Jesus Christ you needed to get a grip. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed in your hand that you realized you hadn’t texted him back. 

Steve: Your cheeks are all hot, aren’t they?

Oh fuck off. 

Y/n: No! They have no reason to be! 

Steve: Oh they definitely are. You’re all hot and bothered thinking about me only using one hand to text you. You’ve got a dirty mind!

He was taunting you, you knew that. Baiting you and wrapping it up with a nice shiny bow. And you’d take it every time. 

Y/n: You knew what you were doing! You set me up. 

Steve: Little ol’ me? As if I’d ever do such a thing! I’m offended you’d even suggest that. 

Just imagining the shit eating grin he was wearing riled you up even more, your blood pumping and your fingers twitching as you typed furiously back to him. 

Y/n: Playing innocent won’t work with me, Harrington. I know your tricks and they only make my cheeks red because they piss me off! Go fuck yourself, idiot! 

Steve: You wanna watch? ;) 

You thought about throwing your phone at the wall, watching it smash into a thousand tiny pieces and letting every trace of that arrogant, smug, hot asshole wash away. But you were not so secretly relishing in the back and forth, your tummy a ball of excitement. 

Y/n: In your dreams. 

His reply was instant and it made you fist your bed sheets tight, toes curling in your socks and if you were standing you’d be sure to fall to your knees. 

Steve: Oh you know it, baby. 

Steve: Maybe next time. You’ve been a dirty girl calling me all those mean names. Come kiss it better?

When a picture came in seconds after his last reply you dropped your phone to your bed, eyes wide and pulse thumping in your ears as you took in the image before you. 

Steve lying on his bed, shirtless. He was lying against his navy blue pillowcase, one arm thrown behind his head and he showed just enough of his torso for you to see a patch of chest hair that made your fingernails dig so deep into your palm you were surprised you didn’t draw blood. His hair was tousled like he’d tugged at it and his mouth held the most perfect little pout. You assumed that’s what you were supposed to be kissing better. 

It had been several minutes since you’d moved so it didn’t make sense why your breathing was so heavy and why there was sweat gathering at the base of your neck. All you could think of was leaving your mark over his chest and shoulders, deep purple spots that you know he’d wear with a proud smile on his face. 

If he could see you now…you’d never hear the end of it. 

Y/n: Meh. 

He must have been sitting there waiting for your reply, the three little dots popping up almost instantly after you hit send. 

Steve: Meh???? 

Steve: It took you 10 minutes to reply with meh??

Steve: Liar. 

A sick satisfaction coursed through you and you felt a small sense of victory reading his replies. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Steve was a little upset at your lack of reaction. 

Y/n: It took me 10 minutes because I wasn’t waiting by my phone for your reply. And I’m not a liar, just not overly impressed. 

You were a liar. A huge lying liar who was only able to do this over text because if he was in front of you’d have been stumbling over your words and blushing like an idiot. 

And that little victory you had lasted all of 2 minutes because when your phone started ringing, that ball of dread from forever ago came barreling back into you harder and faster than before. 

Pressing accept you held the phone up to your ear and tried to get your breathing under control. You were gonna blow your cover quickly if you didn’t. 

“H-hello?” 

“Not impressed, hm?” There was an edge to his voice, one you didn’t recognize but it had a sense of sternness, of authority that had your hands twitching in your lap. 

“Nope. Sorry.” The words practically squeaked out of you, the less you said the better when it came to Steve. If you spoke too much he’d be able to know what you were thinking, he probably already did. You swore he had some magical powers or something. 

“Really? And you’re sure? I only ask because earlier just looking at my arms had you panting like a dog at my feet.” 

Your face burned with humiliation and you cursed yourself for the way it turned you on. Fuck. Any control you had was quickly unraveling and falling apart in front of you. 

“Steve, I—”

“Because when it took you so long to reply, you know what I thought? I thought you’d slipped your hand into your panties like some perv. That was my theory, but I can admit it when I’m wrong.” 

“I-I wasn’t! I’m not I just—”

“But you thought about it, didn’t you?” 

And well of course you had. How could you not when he looked like he did and when you could practically hear him in your ear whispering filthy, teasing things. 

You pictured him now, standing at the foot of your bed with his shirt off and his hands on his hips. How he’d shake his head at you, scolding you like a teacher scolding their student for not doing their homework. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he riles you up and it leaves you reeling. 

“I, well I—”

“Just a yes or no, doll. Did you think about it?” 

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper, hanging in the air and you should want to take it back, to tell him no and hang up but you don’t. You sit there and bask in it, the embarrassment, the arousal. You sit and wait for him to give you something—like a dog waiting for a treat. 

“That’s what I thought. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m beat! You’ve kept me up far past my bedtime. Goodnight, perv. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Before you can get a word out, a plea or a curse or anything he’s hanging up the phone and leaving you with your mouth hanging open and an ache so intense it makes your head spin. 

Idiot. Asshole. Jerk. Hot. Hot. Hot. 

He’s left you speechless, sitting there still on your bed with your phone in your hand and your mind running a thousand miles a minute. You’re aching and wet, embarrassingly wet, and you feel a need for him so deep in your bones it’s making you feel insane. 

A knock on your front door startles you, it’s harsh and quick and your pulse spikes immediately. Holding your phone in your hand you make your way through the living room, a seed of worry nestled in your stomach because who would be here knocking on your door at almost 3 am. 

Who besides Steve, of course. 

Just as you’re moving close to look through the peephole, he calls your name from the other side of the door. Excitement pools low in your belly, hairs on your arm standing tall at the promise of him just inches away. Pulling open the door you’re met with the same Steve you’d left just a short time ago, but now he’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts that hang low on his hips and his hair is still damp from the shower you’re sure he’s taken. A pink t-shirt is stretched over his broad shoulders and there’s a simple silver chain hanging around his neck. 

How does he always look this good? You don’t say anything, opting to step to the side and allow him through and he steps in wordlessly, giving your arm a squeeze when he passes by. 

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he makes his way to your room and you stand there dumbfounded, wondering what the fuck is going on and why he hasn’t said a word to you after showing up at your door at 3 am. 

Following him is a simple choice, one that leads you to your room to see Steve sitting on the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide, hands behind him flat on the comforter while he leans back the slightest bit. He’s stunning and it has you fighting the urge to sing to your knees on the carpet in front of him. 

It feels like a staring contest between the two of you. But instead of looking in your eyes, Steve is letting his gaze run over your body. You’re in an oversize shirt that reaches about mid thigh, nothing underneath but a pair of panties that Steve ruined hours ago. 

He finally meets your eyes, a small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth that makes you feel jittery. “W-what are you doing here?” You can’t help but to stumble over your words when he’s looking at you like that. Like he could take a bite out of you. 

“What do you think?” 

“Missed me already, Harrington?” 

“Always.” Some of the smugness he carries with him has melted away with the admission and it makes your heart swell in your chest. The thought of him missing you provides a surge of warmth through your body. 

“I missed you too,” Your voice is timid, his stare making you feel exposed to him, “but I thought you were going to bed.” 

“Well that was my plan, but I couldn’t fall asleep knowing you were over here making a mess because of me and not come help clean it up.” 

Your toes curl into the carpet below you and you hope it will be able to ground you a little when you feel so…you don’t even know what you feel. Your stomach is twisting and your palms are sweaty and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. 

One of his hands lifts to motion you forward and you do so without hesitation, your feet carrying you to him instantly. When you get close enough you go to get on your knees instinctively and he stops you with a small, proud smile. “No, no, I’m here to take care of you, baby.” And while the notion fills you with excitement, you can’t help but feel a little upset that you won’t get to put your mouth on him. 

And of course this just makes him smile even bigger, eyes bright as he takes in your frown and can’t help but shake his head at you. 

“Before we do anything I just…I want you to know I care about you, yeah? This isn’t some one night thing for me. I want everyday with you, everyday that you’ll give me.” 

“I care about you too, Steve. I think that was obvious when I scrubbed all the paint off that plate after I saw that text on your phone,” He huffs a small laugh at you, hands settled on your hips, “You’ve become such an important part of my life and I—I like you a lot, even when you’re mean to me.” 

He scoffs like the idea is foreign, playful glint in his eye the whole time and it drives you crazy. He has that look, the one that tells you he’s about to say something that will either make you hit him or drop back down to your knees. 

“Come give daddy a kiss then.” 

It’s the former, hand coming up to smack at his chest hard despite the way the name makes your stomach clench and your spine tingle. He just laughs, loud and steady, pulling you down onto his lap and smashing his lips against yours. 

His lips are just as soft as you’d dreamed about, full and slick with spit and you feel yourself pulse when he smiles into the kiss. His nose bumps with yours, his hands sliding from your waist to your hair and letting his fingers tug and pull while you push closer to him. 

“Fuck—you taste so good.” You don’t even realize the words come from you until you feel Steve groan against you, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip as if to taste you too. 

When you finally have to pull back for air, your forehead is pressed against his and you both try and catch your breath. He looks like a dream, mouth shiny and swollen, eyes glazed over as he takes you in. He tastes sweet, the kind of taste you crave at the end of the day or when you need a pick me up. Or just because. 

He’s shifted back a little so you’re not hanging off him and the edge of the bed, your thighs wrapped around his hips and your chests almost touching from how close you are. He’s tugging at the ends of your shirt, trying to pull it off but it’s trapped between your thighs and his. You lean up just enough for him to pull it free, tugging it over your head with ease. 

What you’ve managed to forget in the heat of the moment, what Steve doesn’t know but is quick to find out is the little secret no one but Robin knows about—and she only knows because you needed moral support. 

“Oh holy fuck,” You’ve never seen his eyes so wide and his mouth is dropped open so big it’s almost kind of scary. Somehow you’d forgotten your nipples were pierced, maybe it was from Steve kissing you stupid, you’re not sure. But he’s looking at your tits now like he’s got gold in front of him. 

Your mouth opens to tease him but before you can speak he’s moving his hand to cover your mouth, eyes never leaving your boobs and you have to laugh against him. 

“Don’t—you can’t say a thing right now or I’ll cum in my pants.” He sounds so serious, so pained that you whine against his hand all greedy and impatient. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, doll. Think I could cum from just lookin’ at em for too long.” 

You nod eagerly against his hand, the idea of that turning you on even more than you thought possible. He finally removes his hand but only because he can’t hold out on touching you any longer. His palms come up to cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his touch. He uses two fingers to tug gently at the little silver barbell that runs through them, watching your face for your reaction and you don’t disappoint. Your mouth falls open, a small moan slipping out and your hands grip his shoulders tight. 

“Fuck me. God you’re perfect, so pretty and sweet for me. Shit, m’losing my goddamn mind here, baby.” Half his words are almost slurred, attention moving between your tits and your face as he tugs and thumbs at your nipples. The furrow in his brow makes him look genuinely concerned and you throb at the thought of him being so mesmerized by you. 

He’s so occupied with your pretty tits in his face he doesn’t notice when you slide back a little, a few inches of space between you now. You’ve been soaked and aching for far too long and you think if he doesn’t touch you in the next few seconds you might cry. 

You move one of your hands to grab his, tugging it from your nipple and sliding it down between you to press against the front of your panties. They’re messy, your thighs sticky and you hope he understands your not so subtle hint. 

He does, cursing at the feel of how wet and hot you are even through the thin layer separating him from you. “Poor thing, didn’t even know someone could be this messy.” Your hips shift, desperately trying to get his fingers to catch on your clit. “Who made you this desperate, huh? Was it that prick from the bar?” 

You’re shaking your head but it’s not enough for him, hand moving away and you gasp, pulling it back and giving him what he wants. “You. It’s you—you did this to me.” 

Instead of saying anything he dips his fingers past the band of your panties, both of you groaning at the contact. He circles your clit twice, thighs twitching around him before he’s dipping down to your sopping hole, teasing his finger there before swiping through your slit to collect some of the slick that’s there. 

You want to whine when he pulls his hand out but it fades away at the sight of his glistening fingers, how he studies them for a minute before slipping them into his mouth and humming in content. 

“Way better than mint chocolate chip.” 

Next thing you know he’s slipping his hand back between you, the imprint of his knuckles against your panties hot enough to make you drool down his chest. 

Thumb pressed to your clit he moves in slow circles, just enough pressure to make you need more, pressing down onto his hand and trying to swivel your hips. “Want you, Steve. Need you.” 

“I know baby, gotta stretch you out first.” At the same time he’s speaking he’s slipping his middle finger inside of you with no resistance and it’s not enough. It’s like he has a connection to your mind, slipping another finger in immediately and you feel that ache start to untangle itself the slightest bit. 

With two of his much larger fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit, you already feel the signs of an orgasm building deep in your belly. You feel that burn all over, grinding down onto him in search of that pressure that’ll make your eyes roll back. It’s when he curls his fingers that you lurch forward, face nuzzling his neck as he hits that spot inside of you that makes your vision blur. 

“S-steve..” You’re almost there already, walls clamping down on his fingers and holding them inside while he speeds up on your clit. There’s a twitch in your thighs that he noticed, hushed praises in your ear when that string begins to fray, threatening to snap in seconds. 

And then it stops. 

There’s no more curling his fingers and his thumb is still on your clit. You pull back just enough to curse at him, his hand wet and sticky with evidence of just how much you were enjoying that. But when you see his face you know you’re fucked. He’s got that shine in his eyes that screams trouble, a devious little smirk on his lips as he watches the frustration build behind your eyes. 

“Something to say, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you, daring you to curse at him—but you don’t. You can’t fathom the idea of him taking this all away so you remain quiet, shaking your head at him and hoping your obedience will pay off soon. He nods at you as if to say “that’s what I thought”, hand coming up to tuck your face back into the crook of his neck as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you again. 

You’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks turn bright red because you can hear how wet you are, the small little noise it makes every time he drives his fingers back into has you pressing further into him. He has goosebumps on skin from the feel of your hot breath against his throat from where you’re practically panting, little open mouthed kisses left for as far as you can reach. 

It doesn’t take long before that feeling is building back up, stronger than before and you curse against his skin. “Snug little cunt, greedy for it, isn’t she?” You think you chant a whispered “yes” into him but you can’t be sure, overwhelmed by the tight, quick circles he’s rubbing on your swollen clit and the wave of pleasure you feel beginning to wash over you. 

And then it stops again. 

This time you can’t help the whine that slips out, hands fisting his t-shirt as you writhe in his lap. He chuckles in your ear, smooth and teasing and it makes you mortified when you feel yourself drip down his hand at his meanness. 

“You can handle one more time, yeah? Then I’ll give you my cock.” The promise of finally being full of him is enough to push down your frustrations, eagerness and excitement taking over. He lets you get away with a nod, picking up a faster pace than before and you think it’s not for you, but that his patience is wearing thin. 

He’s rubbing harshly against that sponges spot inside of you with every pass of his fingers, your mouth dropped open with no sound coming out as you try and hold off. It’s too much, too intense and you feel lightheaded at how every nerve in your body is lit up and buzzing.

But apparently he knows your body better than you do, stopping just seconds before you begin to tip over and your shoulders sag in relief and annoyance at the same time. 

“Please, please.” They’re quiet little pleas that he can't even hear but can feel against his skin and he coos at you. It’s condescending and should piss you off but instead has you nudging your nose against his for comfort. 

“Told ya I’d give you my cock, honey. Lay down and let me see you.” You move to lay back, watching him stand over you and strip his shirt and shorts off. He’d forgone underwear and you thank god for that. The sight of his cock, hard and shiny with precum as your thighs falling open for him automatically. He notices this, of course he does. He’s thick and you’re suddenly very grateful for the prep he just did, you don’t think he’d fit otherwise. 

When he leans down to pull a condom from the back pocket of his shorts—presumptuous cocky bastard—you feel the urge to stop him but refrain. You’re already crossing all these invisible lines, you need to have at least some self control. Even though you’re desperate to feel him bare. You’re captivated by him, watching him roll the condom on and clenching around nothing as he hisses through his teeth at the contact. 

Seeing him for the first time, how hard and flushed he is makes you regret even more not getting your mouth on him. Next time, you promise yourself. You’d thought you’d be nervous for this, but you think you’re too overwhelmed with a need for him that there’s no room left to be nervous or anxious. 

Climbing on the bed he moves between your open legs, hands on either side of your head as he holds himself up over you. His cock is lying against you, head touching your clit and it’s making it impossible to lie still. “You still want this?” His face is serious, and you want to squish his cheeks at his consideration for you despite his hard cock pressing against you. 

“Please, Steve. I want this—I need you.” It’s all the confirmation he needs, reaching one hand between you to take his cock, running it through your slit and groaning at the way you twitch below him. After bumping it against your clit he moves down to your entrance, pushing in the slightest bit and squeezing his eyes shut at the feel of you clenching down on him. 

The burn of him pushing forward stings, but it’s a welcome pain that has you gripping the sheets below you, looking for something to steady you when you feel like you’ll float away. “Keep going, please keep going.” You’re pleading below him, mouth dropping open when he pushes in. He has to pause when he’s in all the way, his patch of public hair at the base of his cock catching at your clit and you gasp. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” His forehead is pressed against your cheek, his teeth scraping against the edge of your jaw as he tried to collect himself. “I don’t—shit I don’t know how—goddamn baby, never felt anything this good before in my life.” 

He throbs inside of you when you whine, craning your neck up just an inch to take the silver chain dangling above you between your teeth. “Fuckin’ hell, gonna kill me.” You lift your hips off the bed, urging him to move and moan around the chain when he slips deeper inside of you. He pulls himself up to look at you, hair falling around your head like an angel with blotchy cheeks and fucked out eyes. 

Thrusting forward, the tip of his cock nudges against that spot inside of you and you clench around him so hard his arms almost give out above you. This has been building up for weeks and with the way he edged you earlier, you won’t last long. He knows as much, thrusting into you and using one hand to rub sloppy circles on your clit. 

“Feel like I’m having deja vu, having you pressed against me like this, yeah?” It was just hours ago you were on the train, a few more layers between you but pressed up against him all the same. 

The chain pops from your mouth when he moves your hands to lay beside your head, lacing your fingers together as he stretches over you. Your piercings press against his chest just right and it has your tummy tightening, the added friction enough to have your head spinning. 

He looks mouthwatering above you, hair out of place and falling over his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his bottom lip between his teeth as he moves between watching your face and the way your tits bounce with every thrust of his cock. There’s little drops of sweat running down his sculpted nose and slipping onto your chest, your cute little gasps hitting his ears. 

You know you’re done for when he leans down, lips pressed to your ear and his harsh breath tickling your skin. 

“Takin’ your daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you, doll?” 

Eyes screwed shut you claw at his shoulders, his name leaving your lips in a curse and you both can see the way the nickname makes your face flush a shade darker of red, eyes turning dark and fingers digging into him. “Dirty girl, acting like you don’t like it when I can feel you making a mess of me, this pretty little pussy hugging me tight when I call myself daddy.” 

“Fu-fuck, Steve. Gonna cum—m’gonna cum.” Your words are hushed and quick in his air, rope beginning to snap and if he stops right now you might actually kill him. 

“Go ahead, soak my cock, pretty girl. Show me who I belong to, yeah?” It’s all it takes, rope snapping and sparks shooting down to your toes as you tug at his hair, your thighs tight as your orgasm crashes through you. It feels like it goes on forever, your body taught and ears buzzing and you can barely make out the faint curses coming from above you. 

He belongs to you, and he will as long as he’ll have you.

You feel yourself start to come back down, your chin pinched in between Steve’s fingers and he’s looking at you like he’s seeing the first snowfall of the year. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips grinding into yours and his breaths uneven and sharp. “Where…where do you want it baby?” 

Not sure that you can make coherent sentences right now, you reach up to cup your breasts, Steve’s eyes widening before the most pitiful cry leaves his lips. He thrusts into you one, two, three more times and each one has you gasping below him as aftershocks of your orgasm zing through you. 

He pulls out quickly, pulling off the condom with a sharp inhale and you think he looks good like this, all desperate and pathetic for you like you always are for him. You urge him forward, fingers digging into his hips and trying to pull him up your body. He moves easily, coming up so he’s barely resting any weight on your belly, knees on either side of your chest. 

You cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and pushing them together below him. He’s looking at you from under his lashes, eyes hooded and lips parted in a silent gasp. It only takes two quick strokes before what’s been building at the base of his spine snaps and he’s cursing above you, ropes of white covering your chest and neck and catching the piercings too. 

“Perfect, you’re so perfect—shit.” He works himself through it slowly, his cock twitching and his fingers covered in cum from where it’s dribbled over his fist. He’s staring down at you with an intensity that makes you blush, eyes taking in every inch of you that’s marked with him. 

“Look like a fuckin’ dream with these pretty tits covered in my cum. Fuck, doll, I’m gonna think about this for the rest of my life.” 

All you can do is smile stupidly below him, your heart bursting and your body thoroughly exhausted. He leans down and presses a quick peck to your cheek before he’s shifting off the bed, running to the bathroom and washing off his hand before he comes back with a warm rag, sitting beside you so he can clean you up. His hand hovers over you and you roll your eyes at the little pout he’s wearing as he looks at your boobs. 

“Are you seriously pouting over cleaning off my boobs right now?” 

“Who wouldn’t be? They look so pretty like this.” 

You reach for the rag with a giggle to do it yourself but he pulls his hand back, shaking his head at you and begrudgingly wiping his cum off your chest with a little sigh that’s a little endearing. 

Once you're cleaned up and the condom is in the trash he helps you up so he can pull back the comforter, both of you snuggling in under the covers—naked at his request. His chest is pressed to your back, his heartbeat felt against your skin and it makes you smile into your pillow. 

His skin is warm against yours, fingers laced beside your head and you lift your chin to place quick kisses against his knuckles. 

“Now that’s the kind of reward I could get used to.” 

“Steve!”

————-

It’s the next day and there’s a soreness between your thighs that has you smiling to yourself while you get ready. You remember this morning, how you woke up to the sight of honey brown hair nestled between your thighs, coaxing you out of your sleep with his tongue on your clit. 

The best kind of pain, where you’ll feel him for days when you walk or when you sit down. It brings a blush to your skin and memories you’ll think about forever to your mind. 

He left shortly after, both of you needing to be away from each other so you could actually get ready for the lunch you had planned with Robin and Eddie this afternoon. 

A feeling of nervousness settles within you as you get ready for this lunch. It’s not that you want to keep this from Rob and Eddie, but you’re not what you’d even tell them! These nerves were much more about you and Steve then they were your friends. 

Would you tell them you’re dating? That you like each other? That you’re just fucking around? This is what made you anxious, what had your hands twisting in your lap on the train and had you so distracted you stumbled right into Eddie outside of the restaurant. 

“Woah! Caught ya.” He steadies you, smiling down into your worried eyes and a little bit of that anxiety seeps out of you. This is your friend, one of your best friends! Who cares what’s going on, maybe he’ll have some insight that you can’t see for yourself. 

Eddie leads you into the place, a booth in the back already holding Robin and Steve. They’re both on one side of it and you can see from here that Steve’s unhappy about not getting to sit by you. 

You slide in so you’re closest to the wall, legs knocking with Steve’s under the table and the small amount of contact soothes some of the turmoil happening inside of you. 

Everything is going good, things feel normal—besides the subtle winks Steve sends your way to get you blushing—and you’re not even worried anymore. The table in front of you is filled with food, everyone reaching over and grabbing whatever sounds good. Arms are crossed over each other and hands get tangled when you reach for fries or mozzarella sticks or an onion ring. 

Robin is going on about something, you’re not sure what you’ve kind of zoned out a little if you’re being honest, when you feel Steve staring at you. You look up to his brows furrowed, confusion laced in his features and you quirk your brow at him, wondering what has him looking at you like that. 

It’s when Eddie speaks up beside you, cutting Robin off and bringing everyone’s attention to him that it makes sense, “Harrington, I appreciate the love but can you stop trying to play footsies with me under the table?” 

Steve’s face flames and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and out of your mouth, hands coming up to try and smother how loud it is. But Steve doesn’t recover fast enough, eyes darting to yours sheepishly and that’s when it clicks for Eddie. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

Three sets of eyes fly to Eddie. Robin is confused. You and Steve are looking at Eddie as he looks between the two of you, mouth dropped open in shock and you curse yourself for the storm that’s coming. 

“What?” It’s Robin that speaks first, eyes darting between the three of you quickly. You and Steve keep quiet, trying not to give yourselves away but it’s no use. “Oh my god.” There’s Eddie again, sinister smirk on his lips as he takes his time taking in your pink cheeks and the way Steve won’t make eye contact with him. 

“Oh for the love of god! Someone tell me what’s going on. I am not a mind reader.” 

“Robin, you won’t believe it. These two finally fucked.” A chorus of noises fill your small corner of the restaurant, booth creaking underneath you from where Eddie is practically bouncing in his seat. Robin squeals, hands going to grip Steve’s arms. Steve sighs, letting Robin tug him around like a rag doll in a fit of her excitement. And you gasp, smacking Eddie in the chest the way you do to Steve all the time. 

But neither of you deny it and that alone sends waves of relief through you. Not that you think Steve would, especially with the way he’s gotten over his bit of embarrassment, adorning his signature smirk and a look of pride as the people around him freak out. 

You don’t know how bad Steve wants to show you off, tell the world and scream it from the rooftops how lucky he is to even get to be around you. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, sweet and kind but not afraid to challenge him and call him out for his bullshit. God, he’s obsessed with you. 

Eddie’s rubbing at his chest where you hit him, pouting like a child as if it actually hurt. You hope it did. “Damn, she’s got some force behind those hits,” He looks from you to Steve, eyes lighting up and you know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth, “but you love it, don’t ya big boy?” 

Your head falls forward to rest in your palm, eyes closed as you try and pretend you're anywhere but here. You think you hear Robin gag from across the table and it forces a laugh out of you. Eyes lifting to meet Steve’s, his teeth are showing and he’s shaking his head like he knows a secret no one else does. His words fill the space around you and make your skin heat under his stare. 

“Oh you have no idea.”  ————————————————————————

(save me steve harrington in a tank top)

@aheadfullofsteverogers i remembered and hope you enjoy 💌

[nerdygirlramblings]

can't get this lyric from Lola Young's "Messy" out of my head: "A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot"

thinking about reader with a crappy SO being saved by the 141

fluff with an abrupt ending

cw: bad attempt at accents

The first time Gaz sees you is in the museum. He has paperwork to drop off, and you greet him as he enters. He pulls up short; he's never seen you before. He knows he'd remember your beautiful face.

"G'morning!" you chirp, smiling brightly at him. "How can I help you..." You peer at his uniform, and it takes Gaz a moment to realize you're looking for rank insignia.

"I'm a Sergeant. Sergeant Kyle Garrick. Of the 141. But you can call me Gaz," he says. You look down briefly before meeting his eyes, your smile softer - both more vulnerable and more guarded - and give him your name.

"How can I help you, Sergeant?"

He rolls his eyes, but smiles back and tells you what he needs. You call the Captain who oversees the museum. The older man comes forward from a door along the back wall, claps you on the shoulder as thanks, and guides Gaz away. He chances a look over his shoulder as he leaves, catches your eye, and smiles one more time.

He finds out from the Captain you're a civilian volunteer. "Think she must work remote," he says, "'cause she's here all the time."

A few days later Gaz takes the long route from the mess to the training field with the express intent on trying to find you at the museum. Soap watches him veer left instead of right, a small plate of biscuits in hand, and tags along. "Where're we headed? And more importantly, can I have a biscuit?" Soap asks, hand reaching for the plate.

Gaz doesn't spare Soap a glance, nor does he slow his stride, but he smacks Soap's hand and pulls the biscuits further from the Scot's reach. He keeps walking toward the light infantry museum. As other buildings fell away, Soap figures where they're headed. "Wha's going on a' the museum?" When Gaz stays quiet, Soap amends, "Och, I guess I should ask, who's a' the museum, right?"

Gaz scoffs but can feel the heat in his face. He doesn't know what to say, but he recognizes he's smitten. He doesn't even know why; his interaction with you had been so short-lived. But he can't deny there is something that draws him to you. As they come up to the front doors, Gaz can't see you at the desk, can't see anyone at all in the front of the building, so he opens the door and calls out a greeting.

"Back here!" your voice calls out from the bowels of the museum. Gaz and Soap, who perks up at the mere sound of your voice, make their way past several displays about the history of infantry from Hereford to find you in the back corner. You look up from the open case where you are adjusting something small against black velvet. When you see Gaz, your eyes widen slightly in recognition, and you say, "Oh, Sergeant! Do you need the Captain again?"

He shakes his head and says, "I told you, doll, call me Gaz." He notices how you glance away again, seemingly waffling between discomfort and bashfulness.

Soap takes the break to push past Gaz and stick out his hand. "Name's Soap, bonnie."

You step back from the case, closing the glass and locking it shut. You take two steps towards them and extended your hand to shake Soap's. You give him your name and ask, "Is your name really Soap?"

He laughs. "Well, if ye cannae call Gaz Gaz, I'm nae dafty enough to give ye my full name."

You smile big at that and hold up your hands. "Point taken, Soap. And Gaz," you add, still smiling. "How can I help you today?"

Gaz presents the biscuits and says, "Saw these in the mess, and I thought you might like a little treat."

Your mouth pops open, but before you can respond another voice shouts, "Babe! Hey! Where the hell are ya?" You meet both Gaz's and Soap's eyes, and Gaz see a mixture of regret and shame in your gaze.

"I... I'm sorry," you stammer. Then you quickly turn and head for the front of the museum, leaving Gaz still holding out the plate of biscuits. They hear you call, "I'm coming!"

Gaz looks at Soap, the angry line of his jaw unmistakable. "Who the hell talks to their girl like tha'?" Because clearly, whoever called you is someone you know. Someone close. Gaz flicks his gaze to follow where you went and Soap nods. Both men walk silently towards the front doors and stop just out of sight of you and the man you are speaking with.

Your voice is low, and it is clear your partner is trying to keep his low too, but he is failing miserably. Gaz and Soap can hear grumbled words and phrases, "fuckin' hell" and "goddamn stupid" and "unbelievable." Each word seems to strike true, and you deflate before their eyes, shoulders hunched, arms crossed as if warding off the attack. Your partner seems to be gathering steam when you put a placating hand on his arm. Though you're quite, Soap and Gaz hear you tell him, "I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like me close." The man, shakes your hand off his arm and says, clearly, "What I'd like is if you're home with dinner ready when I get home, not comin' in after me with some take away because you still have your own damn work to do."

Gaz and Soap make their way out, unseen, but when you get back to the information desk, the plate of biscuits is sitting there, waiting.

A week after that ugly confrontation, Gaz and Soap have done some digging around base to find out more about you and the soldier who'd made you feel so small. They're in the briefing room, sharing intel like you're their next op.

Soap opens the flap of a thin folder and slides it across to Gaz. "Wanker's a Warrant Officer. Does some technical shite."

Gaz slams the cover closed. "I don't care what he does, but him being a WO's gonna be a problem." Soap cocks his head to the side, eyebrow raised. "We can't go around talkin' shite about him, Soap. We got Price and Ghost in our corner - or we would if we told 'em - but the fucker outranks us," he says, motioning between himself and the Scot.

"Then we tell Price and Ghost, get them to come down on 'im," Soap replies. "Simple."

Gaz rolls his eyes. "'Cept it isn't simple." He passes his folder to Soap. Your picture is clipped to the front cover. "She applied to volunteer at the museum after he got stationed here. Got a design background, so they snatched up her help. Traced back her last job, and she went from a full-time London agency to mostly freelance." Gaz watches Soap try to piece things together and rushes on, "Seems like she's only here because he is. We make things hard for him, she's likely gone too."

Soap frowns. They need to come up with something. It's in this quiet, frustrated concentration that Price and Ghost find the sergeants.

"Wha's all this, then?" Price asks, noting old To Let ads, examples of your design work, and your significant other's list of commendations.

Gaz looks from the papers on the table to his superior. "Well, Cap, there's this girl..."

It's a fortnight until Soap sees you, this time with Ghost in tow. They'd been making their way back from the motor pool when Soap notices you lingering outside the museum. He walks over, and Ghost follows in his wake.

"Hey, lass," he calls as he approaches. You look up with a slight frown until you see who it is.

"Hi Soap," you reply. He noted your smile is not as sincere as when you'd met. It doesn't reach your eyes.

"Ye okay?" he asks, coming to a stop in front of you.

His question startles you. "What? Oh, yes, I'm fine." He can tell you're distracted but doesn't push. "Can I help you with something, or..." You trail off, and he can see that you're not sure how to handle this interaction.

"Ach, nothing like tha'," he tells you. "Just saw ye oot here and came to say hello." He points to Ghost. "Ye meet Ghost yet?" He knows you haven't. Despite Gaz and Soap singing your praises, and especially extolling all the reasons they needed to step in and save you from the complete horse's ass you call a boyfriend, neither Price nor Ghost has made any attempt to meet you.

"No. I haven't had the pleasure yet, though your work is legendary," you tell Ghost. You put your hand out and offer your name. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Ghost glances at your hand for a moment too long and your strained smile falters more, your hand wavering where it's hanging. You're pulling it back when Ghost grips it tightly. "You the museum volunteer?" he asks.

You laugh, a tinkling little giggle, and both Soap and Ghost are amazed. Everyone is so intimidated by Ghost, especially when he wears his skull mask, all but the 141 and Laswell, that it's hard to know how to react when that underlying fear isn't present.

"I'm a volunteer, sir. There are several of us. I just seem to put in more hours than most." Soap knows that's because you do your design work when you're off base.

"Well, my break is almost over, so I should get back inside," you tell them reluctantly. You make a motion to say more when a car pulls into the car park. Soap recognizes your boyfriend and surreptitiously elbows Ghost.

"There you are," the man says with exasperation, leaning out the window. "I called your cell and the front desk, but there was no answer." He turns to glare at Soap and Ghost before realizing who Ghost is. He immediately sits up straight in his seat. There's a shift in his tone, too. He's more conciliatory as he says, "I wanted to tell you I can't drive you back tonight. You'll need to call a cab."

Soap sees the way your jaw ticks before you respond. "Thank you for telling me before my shift ends. Should I expect you home at all tonight?" you ask.

Your boyfriend gives a put-upon sigh before noting your audience. "I should be home, but it'll be late," he admits.

You nod and try to flash a smile. "Okay. Be safe, yeah?"

Soap watches your boyfriend gives a genuine smile in return. "Sure, babe," he says. "Text me when you get home." He's putting up the window and backing the car out as you call out an aborted farewell.

You're a little more crestfallen when you remind Soap and Ghost you have to get back to your museum work. They watch you walk away, and as the door closes behind you, Ghost grunts, "I'm in."

The following month sees one member of the 141 or another drop by the museum every few days. At first they make excuses for why they're there, but eventually Soap admits they like your company. Gaz and Ghost are ready to tear into the man when they hear about it, but the change in you is noticable. You're open, friendlier if possible.

You tell them about your work, the designs you created in London and how you've convinced the Captain in charge of the museum to let you modernize the installations. If they chat with you in the museum, you show them what you've changed and talk about what you want to do next. You open up about your love of baking and find yourself the recipient of a pastry cutter, cookie scoop, and silicone muffin cups. You tell them how you never left the UK but desperately want to travel. A few days later a passport application shows up on your desk clipped to travel brochures for Mallorca, the Canary Islands, Algarve, Benidorm, and Crete.

You talk, reluctantly, about your boyfriend, and only when asked directly. How you've known one another since secondary school. How he worked to woo you when you started university, despite being in basic at the time. How magical those first few years were. How his career took off and quickly trumped yours. How you followed him here at his insistence.

Through all these little conversations, you learn about them too. They tell you about their job, their families, their hobbies, their past. How they came together on the task force. What they want from life. What they want from you. They want you to know them.

As they learn about you, they also start collecting more Intel on said boyfriend. The flat you share is in your name; his housing allowance squirreled away in the bank in an account only he has access to. The car is in his name, forcing you to rely on him or cabs for transport to and from base. Though he works in the admin building, and you volunteer at the museum, he spends a lot of time in medical. The 141 suspects he's running around on you with one of the nurses, and if they could prove it, they would.

Until then, they bide their time.

Nearly two months after meeting Gaz, you have the opportunity to meet Price at a base gala. Your boyfriend invites you as his arm candy, bringing you around to his CO to make a good impression. He's expecting you to be at his side all night and is shocked when, halfway through the night, you wave across the room. You'd spotted the 141 skulking against the back wall.

You try to bring your boyfriend over to them to say hi, but he takes a quick look in their direction and steers you away. It's several minutes until they make their way across the room to you.

Soap reaches you first, arms open for a hug. Before you can step fully into his embrace, he holds you at arm's length. "Bon, ye're a sight! Don't think I've ever seen something so lovely." You giggle and let him pull you close.

Gaz steps up next. "Soap's right. You're a vision, doll. Ya clean up real nice." He smiles big and kisses your cheek. Even Ghost goes for a quick, one-armed hug, eyes crinkling above his mask.

You greet each man and turn to introduce your boyfriend. He opens and closes his mouth several times before stuttering out his name and holding out his hand. The 141 all shake his hand, gripping it a little tighter than necessary. He pinches your elbow and steps back, ignorant of the grimace that flickers across your face. Though he drops his voice, they hear him clearly as he hisses, "You never told me you were so close with the 141! What the hell! Did you even think about me? What will my CO think about you being so close with them, huh?" He tries to move you away from them and over to some members of the medical staff, including a pretty nurse who keeps glaring at you, not that you notice. (The 141 does as she's the one they think your twat of a boyfriend is running around on you with.)

Before he can take more than a few steps away, Price steps forward and holds a hand out to you. "Captain Price, darling. Such a pleasure to put a face to the girl my men have been gushing about these last few weeks."

You stand your ground despite how your boyfriend tries to pull you away. "Captain!" you practically squeal. You open your arms for a hug, ignoring his outstretched hand. "I feel like I know you already."

You chat for another few minutes before your boyfriend succeeds in getting your full attention by telling you he's tired and plans to leave. As you walk away on your boyfriend's arm, Price turns to the others and murmurs, "She's ours, boys. Now to let her know it."

From that moment on, you become the 141's unofficial mission. They go hard on gathering intel, tapping into base cameras to finally catch your boyfriend cheating. Often. And with several different nurses. They talk to the Captain who runs the museum, finding out how you've improved different installations. They take that to base command and convince them to create a non-volunteer civilian curator / exhibition designer position. They find a vehicle in base surplus and grab its on offer ad.

All of this information finds its way to your desk. In a full-circle moment, Gaz is the one stationed near the museum when you find the folder filled with photos of your boyfriend kissing different people; a contract to work at the museum, continuing the work you're already doing and for more money than you're making with your freelance work; and an on offer ad to give you your own transportation. Gaz watches the shock on your face as you try to process everything.

He gives you a few minutes before coming up to you. "Hey," he says softly. "It's a lot, I know."

You look up at him, confusion clear as day across your face. You whisper, "Did you know? About him?" You look heartbroken despite how poorly Gaz knows he's treated you.

"We suspected, but didn't know for sure until the last week or so," he admits.

"We?" you strangle out, meeting his eyes.

He sees the defeat in your eyes. "Me and the others, Soap, Ghost, the Captain. We all like you, doll. And we wanted you to know there are men out there, men like us, who love you and would treat you so much better."

You can't deny the earnest look in his eyes. "What are you saying, Gaz?"

He smiles softly at you. "When you're ready, if you want, we want you. All of us. To be our girl, not his."

main masterlist

[itsthewritergal]

don't tell Bucky - B.Barnes x reader

Summary: Reader is broke and refuses to tell mob!bucky the extend of it

TW: fluff, happy ending, little swears, mention of money, getting fired, (think that's everything)

ENJOY!!

:)

Y/N was used to the biting cold in her apartment, it had been a long few months with her hours being cut down and bills piling up she was in debt. Badly. She had started cutting costs where possible, heating was the first to go, she had opted for  not turning the heating on despite the freezing temperatures outside, food was the second thing to go, she had starting making meals stretch and eating less and slowly things seemed a little more manageable. The bills continued to pile up, yet things seemed a little easier. Every single penny was put to the side to clear her debt. She had been seeing Bucky as much as possible but she couldn’t talk to him about it, he would just offer to pay her debt off and then she’d owe him for almost the rest of her life. She couldn’t ask him. She wouldn’t. Bucky had picked her up from work, it was a surprise, and something Y/N was grateful for as she wouldn’t have to pay for the bus home. 

“Do you want to stay at mine tonight?” Bucky asked gently pressing a kiss to her cheek as they finished their heavy make-out session in the car 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” She said softly, breath slipping through her lips 

“Call in sick” Bucky said between kisses “You can go without one shift can’t you?” Bucky asked 

“We’re short staffed Buck, I need to be there” She lied easily, 

“Let me come in? I just want to hold you tonight” He said softly pressing another kiss to her lips. Y/N nodded in agreement, how could she ever say no to an offer like that? 

Bucky followed Y/N up the stairs to her apartment, she unlocked the door and was met by an icy breeze. Bucky shuddered. 

“Why is it so cold baby? Your heating broken?” He asked 

“Hmm?” Y/N asked turning around to face him 

“Your apartment Y/N, it’s cold” 

“Oh, sorry Buck I turned the heating off” 

“For good?” Bucky asked closing the door behind him “Or is it broken?” He asked

“Oh, no I just turned it off whilst I was at work” Y/N said softly, 

“Why would you do that?” Bucky asked again pulling Y/N into an embrace 

“It was just while I went to work Buck”

“That’s not safe doll, you should keep the heating on so you don’t get ill, even when you’re not home. You need to come into a warm house” Bucky said, Y/N resisted the urge to cry. 

“I usually do Bucky, it was just a one off” she said. 

Bucky didn’t mention the heating again that night. Y/N was grateful for that small mercy. What he did mention was the mountain of blankets that sat on her bed. 

“Doll?” He called from her bedroom 

“Yeah?” She replied coming into the bedroom, her eyes falling on Bucky’s metal hand clasping three blankets, 

“You coming down with something?” He asked “I can call Banner to come and check on you if you want?” 

“Oh Buck, no I’m ok. Just get cold when you’re not here” She said, it wasn’t a complete lie, just a small one. It made her feel a little better. 

“You know you could just move in with me?” Bucky offered 

“Don’t be silly Bucky, we’ve spoken about this” She said and Bucky stopped himself from starting an argument by pressing his lips to hers. 

— — — 

The next few weeks were tricky. Y/N had started picking up more shifts than she could count which lessened her time to do anything; most of all see Bucky. 

When one fateful day put Y/N’s life into a tailspin, 

“Y/N could you come into my office when you get a moment please?” Her boss’s voice cut through the noise, and Y/N felt a panic run through her body, 

“I’ll come now” She said quickly, hurrying behind the shorter lady, “is everything ok?” 

“Take a seat Y/N” She said, Y/N knew this wasn’t good, she never asked her to take a seat before, this had got to be bad news. 

“Have I done something wrong?” 

“No, Y/N you’re one of the best workers we have here” She said taking a deep breath “but we can’t afford to keep you on, with prices and wages going up we’re cutting down to less staff members and well it’s only fair that we let you go first. You’ve got enough experience to get another job quickly whereas the others don’t” 

“You mean the others are cheaper because they are younger?” Y/N said noticing the true meaning behind her words. 

“That isn’t what we are doing Y/N” her boss spoke halfheartedly 

“When do I leave?” Y/N asked dejectedly, knowing it was a loosing battle 

“Today’s your last shift, you are let go without holiday pay or leave notice” She said passing Y/N an envelope “All the necessary documents are in here, please hand your keys in at the end of the shift” 

“No need to wait” Y/N said, pulling her work keys out her bag and putting them on the desk. Picking up the envelope, Y/N walked out. 

The walk home was a cold one, not only because of the biting wind but Y/N felt empty, numb, like she’d just been caught in the rain. She wanted to call Bucky, but after her neglect of him she knew that he was probably mad at her and calling him to cry would not be the best way to go. However, her ringtone cut Y/N’s moping thoughts short, 

“Hello?” 

“Doll, oh thank god. Steve just told me he passed you on the street, he’s turning around to pick you up so don’t go anywhere. What’s happened?” Bucky asked 

“Nothing Buck, I’ll talk to you later, tell Steve not to worry” 

“No, he’s picking you up and you can come here or go home then come here, or just head home if that’s what you want but I’d rather Steve did it than you walk yourself doll okay?” He said 

“It’s going to happened whatever I say right?” Y/N chuckled halfheartedly, the lack of reply on Bucky’s end confirmed it “I’ll wait for Steve” 

“Good girl, I’ll see you soon” He said ending the call quickly. 

As if on cue Steve’s car pulled into view, 

“Hey Y/N, Buck’s waiting for you” He said opening the door for her, 

“Thanks Steve” 

After a few quiet minutes Y/N answered the question which was burning in Steve's mind, 

“I got fired” She said quietly, 

“They did what? Oh Buck won’t be happy, how dare they” Steve said forcefully, 

“They can’t afford me apparently” Y/N chuckled sadly 

“Bullshit” 

“Promise you won’t tell Bucky?” She asked 

“I won’t lie to him if he asks” Steve said “But I’ll divert attention so he doesn’t ask” Steve agreed quietly 

— — — — — 

Y/N had avoided Bucky for another two weeks, she hadn’t meant to. But she had been sending CV’s, babysitting, dog walking and selling small handmade bits online. Anything possible to make some money, she was yet to receive an interview or even any interest. It seemed that everyone was full of employees or was hiring younger staff, there was no place for Y/N. 

She had been dodging her landlord phone calls, and the electricity company and even a few others who she knew were angry that she hadn’t paid. Stretching her legs out wide on the floor she took a minute away from her laptop screen and picked up her phone. 

“I’m on my way, be there in 15” Bucky had texted around 15 minutes ago, Y/N let out a panicked sigh and started picking up the mess around her to try and make herself look presentable for Bucky, she had to keep up appearances. 

“Doll?” Bucky called through her apartment, 

“In here” She replied quickly shoving some dirty clothes at the bottom of her wardrobe, 

“Hey doll” He said softly pulling her in for a kiss, not seeming to notice her dishevelled state. 

“Hey Bucky” she pressed a kiss to his lips, something she had missed dearly. 

“I need to talk to you” Bucky said pulling her down to sit on the bed, she sat down with his hands gripped in hers as if he was about to disappear. 

“I know I’ve been awful Buck, I haven’t spoken to you and I’ve avoided you, please don’t be mad, I’ve just been so stressed and—”

Bucky quickly cut her off “I’m not breaking up with you Y/N” 

“You’re not?” 

“No, doll I’m not” 

“Oh” 

“I know what’s going on Y/N” he said sincerely 

“Nothing’s going on” 

“Doll I know” 

“Bucky nothing is going on”

“You got fired, you’ve been trying to find another job, you’ve been dog walking, which I’m not happy with because that’s dangerous when you don’t know the dog or the owner, and you’ve been selling your adorably little crochet animals online” Bucky said 

“You got someone to follow me” 

“You started shutting me out” Bucky justified 

“Fair enough” 

“Did I miss anything?” Bucky asked 

“No” Y/N said her eyes welling up with tears, she let go on Bucky’s hand to hide her face in them, 

“Oh doll, come here” Bucky said wrapping his arms around her, letting her cry all her stresses and troubles away onto his shirt, he knew once she had cried they would be able to talk through options properly. 

“I’m sorry” Y/N said with a sniffle 

“Can I finish what I was saying earlier?” Bucky asked, Y/N nodded silently “I’ve paid off all your debts, I did the landlord, electricity, water and that loan you took out, you can pay me back if you want to if you have the money, if not it’s my birthday present to you I know you won’t accept it any other way” He said 

“Bucky please”

“It’s already done” 

“I should be able to do this better,I  should be able to pay my fucking bills” 

“No” Bucky said calmly 

“No?” 

“No you’re not doing that. You are doing as best as you can. And I refuse to listen to that shit. Now put on a nice dress, we’re going out to eat” 

— — — — 

That night when Bucky and Y/N were laying in bed cuddled up to each other, Y/N decided to be brave 

“Bucky?” 

“Yes doll?” 

“Do you think I could move in with you?” She asked pressing a kiss to his chest “I don’t think I want to do this alone anymore” 

“Doll, I’d be delighted” 

[sailornymph]

how to disappear completely; itachi uchiha

synopsis — itachi uchiha with pregnant s/o extended

a/n — i love itachi and the shorter hc version with the other uchiha will be up this weekend

first month

humming the same song that had been stuck in your head for the last few days, you carefully stacked the dango balls onto the small stick, neatly placing them onto a plate.

itach would arrive anytime today, and you hoped that he would finally be able to relax. however, due to your lack of shinobi abilities, you hadn’t even noticed, that he had been standing in the doorway for the past twenty minutes, watching in adoration. you were so concentrated, making sure all of the dangos were evenly shaped and distributed.

anyhow, there was something strange about you. it had been nearly a month since he had been away from you. was it the new dress, the fresh hairstyle, different polish used on your nails this time? no, although all the things he adored on you, and took in, these weren’t what made you seem different.

“oh kami, you scared me, when did you make it in?” you asked, sitting down the plate that you almost dropped. raising your arms to embrace him.

“long enough to hear your beautiful voice,” he smirked, as you hugged him close, and that’s when he realized it. your chakra, how did he not see it before? your chakra was not very strong, you weren’t a shinobi or anything, so it did not need to be. yet, here you stood, with the chakra stronger than usual, resembling that of a uchiha.

activating his eyes, he stared at you, watching as the chakra surrounding your body. he could see your chakra, still small, deep within your core, but there was another, as if someone…as if someone was inside of you.

slowly, his hand moved to your stomach, and his heart dropped, feeling the chakra pouring into his hand.

“itachi, what are you doing?” you asked confusedly.

“you’re pregnant, i can’t determine how long, but i can see the chakra,” he said, as you gasped.

“seriously? don't joke like that,” you said.

“i am being serious,” he said, as you squealed in excitement.

you had been a bit restless and to think it was possibly from being pregnant with itachi’s child. you were filled with joy at the news. how could you not be? meanwhile, itachi stood awkwardly, he didn't know how to take in the news. how could he be so careless?

you didn't even know that he was sick, he had been hiding all of the evidence, to keep you from worrying. blaming being fatigued on his missions. taking one look at itachi’s face, and all of that previous joy faded away.

“you don't want a baby? it doesn't fit your lifestyle, living rogue and stuff,” you pulled away from him, fidgeting with your fingers.

“what?”

“i can see on your face, in your eyes, this isn't what you want. say the words and i’ll get rid of it,” you said, turning your back to him, mainly to hide the tears building up in your eyes.

“this was unplanned and i feel it is because of my carelessness. regardless, this has been made out of love between you and i. if you would like to keep them, then that's what we will do. what would you like, angel?” he said, reaching to pull you close, and turn you around, wiping your eyes.

“i want to keep it,” you whispered.

“then we will, there is no need to cry your eyes out, we will be parents, okay?”

“okay?” you nodded, accepting his kiss.

third month

“ugh, what is that terrible smell,” you groaned, climbing out of your burrito of blankets. your breasts were aching and itching, you were tired, and you felt like you needed to throw up. however, you were on high alert because itachi was nowhere to be found. he hadn't said anything about leaving for another mission.

holding onto the railing, you slowly walked downstairs. relaxing as you could see itachi sitting on your back porch, but your eyebrows furrowed at his hard coughing. approaching the door, he looked back at you, smiling softly.

“good morning, angel”

“are you alright, i could hear you coughing-

“i'm okay, are you having morning sickness?” he asked, but you shook your head.

“not today, i just woke up because i smelled something that was just vile to my nose, in the room”

“vile? it may be the baby, i read that your pregnancy could affect your sense of smell”

“maybe, whatever it is, they hate it, and so now it is bothering me,” you sighed, scratching your belly. your bump was barely visible but in a form fitting outfit, you could see clear as day, the baby growing inside.

turning away from you, itachi began coughing again, bringing a rag to his mouth, and your heart dropped, seeing a bit of blood, before he wiped it away.

“was that blood? we need to call a doctor?”

“i am fine-

he started, but, reaching over, you snatched the cloth from him, gasping at all of the blood.

“i'm going get a medical-

“y/n, stop, i’m f-

“do not tell me you are fine, not when you're coughing up all of this blood, this isn't normal or healthy,” you stressed.

“i need to talk to you, i've kept something from you”

“what?”

“please, sit down,” he reached for your hand, helping you sit next to him before he began to explain everything to you. his terminal illness, the symptoms, the partial blindness. it left you stunned with tears in your eyes.

“do you know how much longer you have?” you sniffled.

“don't stress about me, i’ll be here every step of the way, and i'll be here for the birth of our child,” he reassured, reaching for your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips.

“we could get you some help-

“my fate is sealed, but there is still much to do and see before i leave you, trust me”

“do you promise?”

“i promise, i won’t be leaving you anytime soon, or you,” he said, reaching to rub your stomach.

sixth month

“how do you feel?” you whispered, replacing the cool cloth from itachi’s forehead with a fresh one.

“i will be fine, thank you,” he said, tiredly staring at you, as your fingers interlocked.

when he arrived last night, he was in a terrible state, with a high fever, coughing up blood, and in pain. while he insisted that you got some rest, he would sleep on the floor in the living room, to not bother you. you dragged him to your fluffy duvet, tending to him until he was able to fall asleep.

“you don’t have to thank me, i want to take care of you, even in this state, you are still as strong as ever to me,” you said, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

as you pulled away, he reached out his hand, his fingers brushing against your bump.

“your bump has grown”

“they are very active, especially at night, i can hardly sleep from all the kicking”

“i missed another milestone,” he said, sounding defeated.

“so did i, it started when i was sleeping, but talking to them, seems to calm them down, would you like to feel it?” you smiled as he slowly nodded.

taking his hand, you placed it into your entire belly, sighing as he caressed softly.

“i can feel their chakra,” he sitting up, suddenly. you were worried about him being up, but with the concentrated look on his face, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him.

“does that mean their strong?”

“yes, at first, it was meshed with your own, but it is separate now, it is almost radiating off of you”

“then they’re more you than me,” you laughed.

“hi baby, it’s your mother and your father is with me this time, speak to them, tachi,” you continued.

“hello, my offspring,” he said awkwardly, making you laugh. there wasn't any movement when suddenly, you felt a sharp kick.

“oh god, that got them excited,” you groaned, as itachi continued rubbing your belly.

“your mother works very hard to make sure you're healthy, you have to be kind to her,” he spoke, his voice softer than before.

activating his eyes, he examined your stomach.

“itachi, you shouldn't use your eyes,” you lightly scolded him.

“i need to see clearly”

“what are you trying to see?”

“the baby, it-the chakra is very strong for this stage of life, i wanted to see how big they were, beyond being a fetus, and-

“and what?” you asked, panicking, as his hands dropped, a stunned expression on his face.

“it is a girl,” he managed to get out.

“a girl? are you sure? don't prank me,” you said, excitedly, tears building up in your eyes.

“i can see her clearly, she is already perfect,” he said, when you felt another kick from your stomach.

“i think she likes your voice,” you cried, placing your hands on top of his.

“i love you, more than my own life, you and your mother, are the light in my darkness,” he spoke, placing a kiss on your belly.

“we love you too,” you felt yourself getting emotional all over again.

“of course you do, angel,” he said, carefully tugging you to lay next to him, as he continued whispering sweet nothings to you and the evidence of the both of you, who continued to grow in your belly.

ninth month

“i leave for an hour and you’re already on your feet,” itachi spoke, the small bag of herbs in his hand.

“this laundry was calling my name,” you smiled, continuing to hang the clothing on the clothesline.

“that’s enough labor for now,” he told you, approaching you, his hands moving to your swollen belly. you were absolutely stunning, wearing the pink dress. he never thought he would ever find the color so perfect.

“i’m almost d-ugh,” you reached up, before your hands quickly went to your stomach, feeling a sharp pain.

instantly, itachi activated his eyes, he knew he shouldn’t be using them, they were making his sight worse, but when it came to you, he couldn’t care about the consequences. groaning in pain as you felt another sharp contraction.

“itachi,” you cried, as he held you up, carefully examining your bump.

“she’s coming,” he mumbled, more to himself. picking you up, he carried you into the house, carefully laying you onto the floor, propping up your head.

“are you getting a doctor?” you said, trying to concentrate your breathing.

“there is no time, you seem to have induced your own labor with your laundry, she is ready to come out, now,” he said, leaving to get towels.

placing them next to him, as he came back, he carefully lifted your dress.

“you’re doing this?”

“yes, i can see her”

“you aren’t supposed to be using your eyes”

“don’t worry about me angel, focus on your breathing,” he said ignoring your worrying words.

caressing your stomach, he examined your body, as you shut your eyes, taking slow deep breaths.

“on the count of three, you will begin pushing, we can switch your position if needed,” he instructed, slowly counting down.

six hours, three hundred sixty minutes, the sun was completely gone. your body was on fire, running entirely on adrenaline. your face wet from sweat and tears.

“i can't do this,” you cried to itachi, for the millionth time. his heart hurt as you cried out to him, begging him to take away the pain.

“she’s almost here, angel, one last push,” he said, taking a firm, but gentle, hold onto the baby, catching her as she eased from your womanhood. she cried loudly, easily drowning out any noise you made.

as your placenta followed, he quickly removed it, beginning to clean her body. wrapping her into the red blanket, he carefully placed her into your arms, while helping you sit up. her crying becoming lower by the second, as she finally stopped, opening her eyes, she stared at the both of you.

“she’s beautiful”

“perfect,” you both spoke at the same time.

she had the signature black hair and eyes, a small smile slowly appearing on her face. lowering the top of your dress, you began to breastfeed her, itachi watching in awe. you were an absolute angel, the most beautiful woman he’d ever come across. his daughter, she had completely taken his breath away, he couldn’t help but hover, wanting to take in every inch of her face.

“thank you, y/n,” he said, leaning close to kiss your cheeks.

“she has your hair and eyes,” you smiled tiredly.

“common traits of the uchiha clan members, however, she looks more like my mother and sasuke,” he smiled softly, as you glanced at him. he never brought up his mother to you.

“your mother?”

“mikoto, she was beautiful inside and out, with the most gentle eyes, i favored my father, while sasuke took after her,” he said, as the newborn began to move around, her tiny hand latching onto itachi’s finger.

“i think she likes that name”

“perhaps,” he said, admiring her.

“maybe we could name her something that will keep your mother in our memory-

“miko, if you'd like to name her something else that is fine with me, but i’d like to call her miko”

“miko it is, she’ll know that she is named after who she resembles, her beautiful grandmother”

tenth month

“shh, shh, are you hungry? what’s the matter?” you stressed, trying to breastfeed miko, but she didn’t seem to be hungry, still crying loudly.

you were trying to be considerate of itachi, he needed rest too, after having a fever the last two nights, but you couldn’t figure out what the problem was.

“let me try?” he spoke, behind you.

“you should be resting,” you said, but he shook his head, carefully taking her into his arms. rocking her gently, her cries slowly stopped, as she stared into his eyes.

“i couldn’t rest, when she is crying like this,” he said, as you buried your face in your hands.

“what am i doing wrong?”

“she has her entire life to build a bond with you, don’t worry, angel,” he told you, sitting down as you went to prepare a bottle with the breast milk you had been pumping.

“she is a daddy’s girl, i can’t blame her, but i wish she would at least let me cuddle her too,” you pouted, sitting next to him, as he began to feed her the milk.

you sat in a comfortable silence, until you noticed itachi’s expression. focused but frustrated, he was thinking hard about something.

“what’s on your mind?”

“sasuke…he is searching for me and is close,” is all he said.

“so we leave, i’m sure we can find a place in another village somewhere else-

“he is consumed by vengeance, he will not stop, until we meet”

“itachi, he will want to fight,” you shook your head.

“he has grown to be a worthy opponent”

“so you’ll fight him until you kill him?”

“i could never bring myself to kill him”

“so you’re letting him kill you, how could you do?” your leg begin to shake as you fought back the urge to scream at him, ready to beg him to change his mind.

“there are many things i have kept from you, that will be revealed in time, but this will come to pass. i hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving you and miko alone in this world. the things i have done, sasuke will be given the revenge he seeks,” he said, sitting the bottle down, beginning to burp miko.

“please don’t do this, tell him the truth, the secrets-

“all will be revealed, but my destiny was determined that night. listen to me, you are to go to konoha and raise miko where i know she will stand a chance at having a bright childhood. let her know how much i love her, how much i love you, her beautiful mother. that if i could’ve had things differently, we could’ve been a happy family together. she is and will always be my greatest mission, nothing has been accomplished so perfectly. my precious miko, i know i may be asking for too much, but please,” he said, as you began to crumble, trying to hold back your tears. he wasn’t the type to beg, but here he sat, his eyes pleading with your own.

“okay”

“and you, my beloved. heal and move on from me, miko is the evidence of our love, but i do not expect you to remain alone-

“how could you ever tell me to do something like that?” you cried.

“i hoped that you would say that, it hurts to think of it, but i promise i won’t be upset if you have another. just make sure he loves you ten times more than i love you and miko and that he isn’t weak, to be able to protect you both,” he said, reaching to hold your cheek.

“i love you so much”

“i love you too,” he smiled tiredly, accepting you into his embrace as he held you in his arms.

“when do you leave?”

“tomorrow night,” he said, making you look over at him suddenly, beginning to cry harder, just thinking of how soon he would be gone, hurt you greatly.

“so soon?”

“i know angel, but let me hold you tonight, i would like to take in every moment we have together,” he said when miko tugged his hair.

“you too, my beautiful miko, i want to remember these precious eyes, until my very last breath”

seven years later

“miko? where are you?” you called out, worriedly, searching for your daughter, when you spotted her. sitting alone, her back against the old tree.

“miko-oh baby, what happened?” you went to your knees, cupping her face. tears pouring down her face, as she peered at you with the crimson and black eyes.

“i only wanted to play, but th-they were so mean, they said bad things about you, and father, how he was weak and he didn’t love me, why did i have to be a uchiha?” she grumbled, burying her face in her hands.

“hey, don’t say that. ever. listen to me, your father was brave, he did what one else could do, and carried the burden alone. he put this very village above himself, he sacrificed everything for everyone else — and your father loved you so much. he cherished you from the time you began to grow in my tummy, until the time you were born. he’d hold you, letting you sleep on his chest, holding his hair. you were and will always be his everything. have i ever told you why we named you miko?”

“no,” she pouted.

“well, technically he named you. you are named after your grandmother, mikoto uchiha. when you were a baby, you looked so much like your uncle, sasuke, and their mother. you had the gentlest eyes that reminded itachi of his mother, so when he decided on miko, i fell in love with it”

“why did sasu-uncle sasuke have to go and kill him?” she asked, her small fists balled up.

“your father was sick already, i fear his fate was already sealed, he accepted his reality and nothing didn’t happen that he didn’t allow. you were our present though, a parting gift, and the evidence of our love, a combination of him and i, creating the most beautiful person. do you understand why you shouldn’t say those things? you're stronger than your peers and they don't understand you. would you like to know another fact about your father?”

“you are already living up to your father’s standards, here you are seven and already a genin, itachi wasn’t a genin until he was eight. he was a prodigy of his clan, and here you are, just as sharp and skillful he was,” you smiled at her.

“mommy, i don’t want to become a rogue ninja-

“we will make sure that won’t happen,” a voice said, making you both turn, you were surprised to see sasuke.

“uncle…sasuke”

“how are you, miko?” she stared shyly at her uncle, shrugging her shoulders.

“i was in the area and i overheard the sound of a little girl crying,” he said. a lie. you knew from the moment you moved to konoha, he had been watching. he had only met miko a few times. he was unsure of how to even go about a relationship with his niece, but he vowed to himself to protect her.

“she has been dealing with a bit of bullying, they are trying to find any way to tear her down because she’s the youngest in her class”

“have you spoken with lord seventh?” he asked you.

“he’s too busy to even reach,” you sighed, as his eyes remained focused on miko.

“it is common for those weaker than you to dislike you, out of jealousy. the best thing to do is to continue surpassing them. would you like a bit of training, with me?” he asked, slightly smiling as she nodded excitedly.

“can i mommy?”

“go ahead,” you agreed, laughing as she stood up, shyly approaching him.

“uncle sasuke-i mean, is it okay, if i call you uncle?” she asked, relaxing when he nodded.

“well, uncle sasuke, was my father stronger than you?”

“he was, even in his final moments”

“then i want to be as strong as him”

“we can make that possible, as safely as possible,” he said, glancing at you. you knew she would eventually go down this path, you hadn’t even wanted her to become a shinobi, but she had been begging from the moment that told her that itachi was once a shinobi. she was as gifted as him, but you worried about the same fate most uchiha had when they pushed themselves too far.

“we have to limit ourselves because sometimes being too powerful isn’t always good, we are only human,” he continued, offering her his hand.

“uncle sasuke, my mommy told me i was named after my grandmother, mikoto,” she told him, as they began to walk away.

“now that i’m looking at you, you do have mother’s gentle eyes and itachi’s smile, beautiful,” he said, leaning down, poking her forehead with two fingers.

your eyes swelled with tears, watching as she became distant, leaving with sasuke, already talking his ear off.

“do you see our girl?” you spoke lowly, your hand going to the necklace around your neck, that once belonged to itachi.

“y/n, are you alright?” you jumped, looking up at kakashi who was approaching you. he had been working so closely with miko, and she was doing well with him.

“i’m okay, just getting emotional, i’m very proud of miko”

“where is she, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“she went to train with sasuke, she needs this, and i’m thankful for you as well, all those times you made time to train her,” you told him.

“it was no problem, would you like to join me for a conversation over ramen?”

“i-has miko done something?” you asked worriedly.

“no, she’s wonderful, i was hoping we could have lunch as perhaps a date,” he said. despite having his face covered, you could see him obviously blushing.

kakashi hatake, a few years older than you, and while the children all gossiped amongst themselves, questioning how he looked. was his lips like a blimp, did he have buck teeth, was he completely hideous — you had seen his face, and he certainly was handsome. thinking back, you felt a wave of embarrassment, all the times he hinted at something more with you, and you easily brushed him off, redirecting the conversation to miko. no one would ever be able to match the love itachi had for you and miko, but after today, you were sure this was his sign that he was okay with you and miko finally moving on.

“i would love to,” you smiled, accepting his hand, as he pulled you up, walking you to the nearest ramen shop.

[chlorinecake]

Thoughts on stalker x stalker??

— 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐣𝐲

▹ PAIRING: stalker ex bf ! jake x stalker ex gf ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: You and Jake, exes torn apart, developed a mutual obsession with each other overtime, the lingering romance coming to light with a simple flash of his camera…

▹ WARNINGS: BIG DICK JAKE who records a lil sextape of him fingering you because he's a helpless titty fixated perv, unprotected sex (cowgirl), some crying, a brief handjob and fingering session, kinda angsty

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

“Do you really see better with those glasses on?”

Jake's chocolate brown eyes peeked at you through his specs, a gentle hum rumbling from his throat before answering.

“No. I mostly wear them for the art student aesthetic I’m going for… now don't smile, pretty.”

Snap.

You let the small smile on your face relax at his instructions. “And the other reason?” You pressed, watching as he angled the lens a little higher over you this time.

“Hm, dunno... maybe because cute girls always ask about them?”

You hated it whenever he talked about other girls—

Snap.

Another click of his camera sounded throughout the quiet studio, it’s white flashes lighting up the dim room.

“So you like the attention then?” You teased, watching as his facial expression remained nonchalant.

Focused.

“Your attention? Yes,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes behind the camera. “Might be one of my favorite things, actually…”

Snap.

Good answer Jakey, you thought to yourself, trying your best to keep a neutral facial expression before him.

“One of your favorites just like old cameras, apparently...” you went on… “How come you never use the new one I bought you for your birthday last year?”

“Because,” Jake answered while lining his eyes up with the camera lens, “this one is much easier for me to carry around... I like that it’s portable...”

Why would he need a camera on the go, you asked yourself silently… even though, the reality was that Jake had actually dropped the other camera while following you one night—

Snap.

“Jeez, how many more shots do you need, Peter Parker?”

“You'll know when I'm finished,” the dark eyed boy replied with a foreign rasp to his tone, index finger gently squeezing into the camera button as he continued. “Now stick your tongue out for me.”

“I'm sorry?”

Snap.

His unusual sentence really caught you off guard this time, a feeling of chills washing over you as he took his lower lip into his teeth.

“Beautiful,” he said almost breathlessly, “just try following my directions next time though, yeah?”

“Jake, I need a break...” You sighed, changing your position on the couch as his vision remained glued behind the camera.

“In a minute, ____…”

Snap.

He used your first name on purpose because you used his, and he knew you were the type of girl who didn’t like that very much.

“I said that’s enough, alright?”

You slightly raised your voice at him, his demeanor remaining just as calm as before once a prolonged sigh escaped his throat.

“I suppose five minutes of wasted time wouldn’t hurt,” he said sarcastically, placing his red camera on the stool beside him before extending a hand, helping you off the couch.

“Thanks,” you replied half-heartedly, grabbing the large white sheet from the couch arm and wrapping it around your naked body.

“I could never get tired of this honestly,” Jake confessed, watching you intently as you poured yourself a cup of water from the nearby cooler.

“Tired of what?” You asked in between your first sip, his eyes being all over you except your face as you spoke.

“Looking at you,” was all he said for you to roll your eyes at his words, making him chuckle at your reaction.

“I’m serious, y’know that?”

“Mhm… I can tell,” you smirked with a nod, taking the last sip of your water before making your way back over to plop on the couch. “How about you go over your pictures… you’ll never know if we caught the perfect one already if you don’t check…”

He didn’t verbally respond to your suggestion, only nodding in agreement as he reached for the camera, clicking through its film.

To no one’s surprise, Jake, who doubled as your pervy ex-boyfriend and personal neighborhood stalker, felt himself getting hot all over again just from looking at the pictures of you displayed on the grainy screen.

Today's excuse to photograph you? He needed a nude model for his chiaroscuro themed visual project at the fancy art university he attended.

You knew Jake would’ve a hard time finding any other female (or male) to willingly get naked for him, so you obliged… under the small condition that he wouldn’t try to fuck you afterwards.

Simply put, your infatuation with him always made it easier to agree to whatever stupid favors he needed you to do—

“God,” he groaned under his breath, taking a seat as an attempt to hide the boner slowly growing behind his pants.

“Damn, are they really that bad?” You asked with worried brows, misinterpreting his reaction.

“N-no, not at all,” he corrected, eyes still glued to the camera screen.

“Oh... well… okay then,” you sighed with relief, or maybe it was a yawn?

The studio AC was set to such a low temperature that you couldn't help but feel a little sleepy... especially with how mundane this whole model process was getting to be.

“Can I see the pictures?” You asked, making Jake's eyes widen slightly at your request. He knew it'd be suspicious to say no so he instead gave in, reluctantly handing you the camera.

Clicking the left arrow on the circular directional button, the gallery scrolled, picture after picture, with each slide shocking you with how good they came out.

“Lovely, aren't you?” Jake nearly whispered from behind you as he leaned over the couch, his hands pulling your hair out of the tussled bun he previously styled it in for the first part of the photoshoot.

For the next series of shots, he planned to go for a more natural look, taking your hair down to let it hang as the scent of your shampoo ignited him all over again.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hard-on against the back of the couch, eager for any sort of friction that would ease the tension building up inside him.

You felt the teeth of the comb meet your scalp as he continued to comb, the simple act somehow making it even harder for him to control himself.

“You're really talented at this,” you said, just before your eyes glazed over the series of pictures following the one's he'd just taken of you.

Some were from recent trips you took to the supermarket, events you don't fully remember, and even a few scandalous shots of you through your apartment window, changing out of your work clothes—

“Thanks, but I prefer giving credit to the actual person I'm shooting,” he added, looking over your shoulder as you turned the camera off, just before he got a chance to see what you were looking at.

Though, from the almost immediate shift in the studio's aura, Jake had developed a pretty good inkling in his chest as to what you might've seen.

Your throat tensed up, chest expanding slightly with each exhale as a smile grew on Jake's face.

“Just let me know if I'm being too rough, alright?” He started, sectioning out your bangs as his hand slid around your neck, gently cradling your chin upward.

“Jake,” you choked out weakly, a shaky moan slipping past your lips as the comb got caught in a particular knot in your hair, “t-take your time, please...”

You stuttered, hoping in your heart that he wouldn't make a big deal about it.

In truth, you often watched Jake from afar yourself, not being able to get over your obsession with him, even months after you two first broke up…

Your eyes had a way of chasing stolen moments—the curve of his lips as he sipped coffee on his way to class, or the way his personal style slowly changed from denim coats and Timberland's to leather jackets and black boots.

You saw it all, seeking after it as often as you could… using it as a means to coax your own lonely desire for him.

Still, you couldn't quite shake how strange it was to see his gallery filled with images of you from every angle and emotion, even though it eventually delighted you to know that he wasn't as interested in other people as he let on—

“I'm in no rush, ____,” he said plainly, trying to redirect the energy in the room, “just relax for me... I'm not trying to hurt you...”

He chose his words wisely, releasing his hold from around your neck before making his way over to the wall where he dimmed the lights even more.

“I know, Jake,” you nearly whispered, wind flowing from the slightly opened windows as your voice flew with its gust…

“But how long have you been watching me?”

His wrists froze at your question, a mix of relief, guilt, and fear rising within every part of his body.

You turned your gaze towards him, eyes locking to reveal a mirror reflecting your similarly twisted desires, the tension screaming with ambivalence…

“Since we broke up...” He confessed, eerily loud footsteps sending shivers down your spine as he paced against the wooden floor, walking towards you, “does that bother you, love?”

You stammered at first, gentle grasp clinging to the white sheet around you. “It doesn't, Jake... not at all,” you finally mustered, watching as he licked his lips because God, he was such an anxious perv for you...

The way you looked before him in this moment, both fear and recognition present in your features as your body remained still as stone, every natural highlight of your skin looking even more gorgeous beneath the dim lights.

This entire moment was all too much for him… You were too much for him…

Slowly creeping towards you, his intense energy did nothing but make your arms sprout with tiny bumps all over.

“Good,” was all he said at first, trying to digest your body language while freeing himself from his jacket, “but I'm guessing there's something you might wanna come clean about, too, hm?”

“I… yes,” you admitted, somehow regaining your initial confidence, “since you wanna hear me say it so badly... I haven't exactly been able to get over you, either...”

He smirked at your honesty, “How bad has it gotten? The withdrawal, I mean... d'you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Cute, but no...,” you scoffed, “I prefer hands-free fantasizing instead... less mess for me to clean up alone,” you smiled teasingly, tracing the arch of his jawline with your index finger.

It almost felt foreign when you did that just then...

You hadn't touched him like that in months... and even though the act was ordinary, it made you feel something intense—

“I need to take a few more shots of you like this,” he said randomly, reaching for his camera but not sitting on the opposite couch this time.

He stayed right in front of you, joining you on the couch and slightly caging you beneath his frame.

“Trying a new angle I see... these gonna be for your project or—”

“I'm gonna keep these for myself,” he interrupted, snaking his free hand beneath the sheet and lightly caressing the flesh of your thigh before kneading it, dangerously close to your core. “Just make sure you follow my instructions like I asked...”

You nodded at his words, letting your lower body relax as he gently guided your legs open, the sheet falling from over you boobs and exposing them to the air as he grazed your pussy lips with his fingers.

Jake nearly drooled at the sight of your hard nipples, clicking with his tongue to make you look back at the camera. “Start by squeezing your tits together for me,” he started in a low voice, “wanna see how well they’d suffocate my dick…”

The poor guy was still very much hard right now, and it didn't help him one bit with how wet you felt against his fingers, his skilled touch circling your clit as a feathery moan left your lips.

“C’mon pretty, do as I say…” Jake cooed, pointing the camera to you as you did just that, arching your back over the sofa arm while squeezing your tits together, his fingers quickening against your sensitive bud as he kept recording.

You're not sure what came over you just then, but you were starting to feel more than willing to do whatever Jake asked of you, especially when his fingers worked on teasing your initial tightness.

His digits curved against your g-spot, the pressure he applied only escalating as his stiff cock started leaking in his pants.

This entire moment felt strangely nostalgic, reminding you of the many times Jake would stand over while making you cream with just his fingers—

“Tell me when you're close, baby… beg for me to let you come,” he huffed, voice sounding somewhat labored as he intently watched your chest heave up and down, biting his lower lip to stop himself from kissing you.

Because as badly as he wanted to taste you, he had to capture your bliss on camera first, for the nights that memories become too vague... for the nights when fantasies don't compare to the real deal...

Your whole body was a mix of hot and cold, given the temperature of the room and the sexual energy meddling between your excited bodies.

“J-Jake…” you stuttered with a whine, clinging to the couch as your face flushed a ruddy hue, walls desperately clenching around his fingers, “please...l-let me come for you…”

The poor boy didn't know what to do with himself given how wet you were, his puppy-dog eyes looking almost in awe now that the realization had hit him:

He finally got you where he wanted you… and from your perspective, the likewise…

“You can let go now baby,” is all Jake manages to say before you're coming undone, the knot in you abdomen unraveling throughout every limb of your body as pure pleasure coursed through your starved out veins.

Jake kept the camera on your body the entire time, too, his digits only slowing down slightly to help you ride out your high.

He hadn't even fully slipped from your hole yet before a feeling of emptiness washed over you, lust-ridden eyes following Jake’s every move as his veiny hand retreated from your core.

He caught on to it, too... the way your eyes panned in on him like your own built in set of camera lenses... capturing every movement to store in your favorite mental file.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned around his own fingers suddenly, tasting the milky slick he gathered from your hole, “been missing the taste of you so bad, angel...”

“Then kiss me,” you whispered heavily, a clear sheen of Jake's saliva mixed with your sweet release painting the cupid's bow of his pouty lips.

He didn't hesitate to take heed to your words either, setting the camera down with haste before hovering back over you on the couch, not even guiding your face as he kissed your lips, humming into the contact.

The feeling of Jake's sloppy textured tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, his hot breath doing nothing but heat up the warmth already present between your legs.

His heart pounded against his ribs as the kiss continued, his glasses eventually fogging up from how intense the contact was, compelling you to push him away for a seconds to remove his glasses, your own heart fluttering at his flushed demeanor.

“I need to touch you... r-right now,” you choked out breathlessly, not even bothering to cover your naked body now that the sheet was slipping to the floor.

It was a bit awkward at first, you'll admit, being completely naked while Jake was fully clothed. You grew tired of undressing him with your eyes and knew you had to do something about the issue throbbing behind his pants.

Before Jake could even respond, you were already pushing him back against the other side of the couch, his head plopping on the sofa arm with a gentle thud, fluffy brown locks framing his face.

The shadow of a smirk meddled over his handsome features as you eagerly yet patiently worked on unzipping his pants, the thick mound from his clothed hardness making your head spin.

There was really no point in taking things slow with him in this moment because its not like you two haven't already fucked each other before... only difference now was that it had been a while, so the nerves had built up—

“It's so red,” you remarked with a whisper, just having shimmed Jake's pants down enough for you to get his cock out, “does it hurt?”

“I'll let you know once you start touching it,” he let out with a relaxed breath, eyes once again focusing on the way you sat before him with your tits out on full display.

You took his comment as some sort of green light, gently taking his length in your grasp and pumping it in long, drawn out strokes.

His thighs were already trembling, hips grinding up into your first to gain a bit more friction.

“Fuck, stop teasing, ____,” he groaned with half-lidded eyes, wrapping his hand around yours to manually control the pace.

You let out a laugh at his neediness, swatting his hand away so you could take over again, “This is all apart of the foreplay, Jake... you know I'll be riding your cock properly before the night's out, anyways...”

Deep down, you were having just a little too much fun toying around with Jake right now, but given the sexually frustrated furrow of his eyebrows, you decided to be nice and just let him have you already.

Still pumping his shaft in your hand, you sat up on your knees to straddle him, lining up his tip with your entrance before letting your weight sink onto him, struggling to adjust to his size given how long its been since you took him.

A quiet curse fell from Jake's lips as he watched you wiggle past his mushroom tip, his veiny hands reaching forward to help you completely reach his pelvis.

You let out a shaky whimper at the sudden feeling of fullness, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stop yourself from making any more pained sounds.

“There you go, pretty... nice and easy...” Jake cooed while still gripping the flesh of your hips, mostly because if he didn't, he would've started thrusting into you, “do you wanna stop?”

“N-no,” you practically blurted out, thighs still feeling tense despite how badly you wanted this with him, “I want you to make me cum again, Jakey... I can take it...”

Your words were like magic to his ears, his strong hand guiding your body against his as he left a tender kiss to your cheek before holding you in place, his dick moving in and out of you at a steady pace that escalated in a matter of seconds.

To be honest, you were shocked by Jake's adrenaline, your body already shaking beneath his arms as he held onto you tighter, grunting with each time your desperate walls clenched around him.

His balls bounced to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you shut your eyes tightly in pleasure, whining frantically at the mix of sensations.

Your eyes started to sprout with tears, damping Jake's shoulder as he fucked against your g-spot, making it nearly impossible for you to hold in your delighted screams.

Pouring out a string of whiny moans, your body subconsciously moved with his hips, Jake catching on to your reactions rather quickly as he whispered a sultry “You like that, baby?” against your neck, your head nodding lazily as you looked into each other's eyes, right before your lips crashed into his. 

“I missed this so fucking badly, Jake... 'missed being this close to you,” you let out weakly, one of his thumbs going to wipe the tear of moisture sliding down your face as he kept rutting into you.

“I know, angel,” he panted, kissing you on the center of your lips before pulling back, his tip reaching the furthest its ever been inside your pussy as you rocked your hips against his, wobbly pleas of pleasure slipping past both your lips before you felt yourselves reach your peaks.

“Aww, f-f... shit,” you whined, Jake's hips still pivoting against you despite how strong the orgasm was, your thighs trembling as you felt your walls tighten around him.

“That's it, baby,” Jake cooed through heavy breaths, reeling out more of your pretty moans as he rode out your high for the last time, holding you close to him, “let it all out, angel...”

You let your legs relax, just as Jake sat himself up straight, delicate lips kissing along your jawline as he whispered against your skin, “Now you belong to me again…”

And there it was, two twisted souls basking in the very web of obsession the sewed together, a lost love blossoming yet again from a matter of stolen glances and a series of clandestine photographs bringing you back together again.

You internally yawned at the feeling of Jake's lips against you, his possessive words only making your heart sing as you reached down for the sheet, draping it over both your spent bodies...

“I've always been yours, Jake,” you smiled sincerely, ruffling the hair atop his head before falling back into his embrace, letting yourselves snuggle into the plush cushion of the couch, “even when you left me first...”

▹ Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and does not intend to romanticize the harmfully obsessive behaviors described between the two characters. Real-life stalking is not okay my guys, so please, don’t be a sasaeng and instead seek healthy relationships !

▹ Perm Taglist ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) : @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

[quarterlifekitty]

Can we pretty please have König with the secret baby trope?

/)/)

( . .)

( づ♡

I offer a little bunny as a bribe [I really hope it works and doesn’t end up misshapen lol]

Bunny looks good to me…. I accept

So in this, I imagine that you were something of a friends with benefits to him. While it wasn’t a sugaring situation, he did insist upon treating you to a nice dinner whenever you met up. When he’d come home on leave, he’d reach out, you’d meet up and fuck, and eventually he’d ship back out and the cycle repeated.

Truthfully, he’d been planning on trying to make things less casual for a long time. He’s not the kind of person who can fuck someone repeatedly and not fall in love, as much as he tried to be when this began. He decided that on his next leave, he would tell you.

He didn’t expect his next leave to be as far away as it turned out to be. While he is within his rights as a mercenary to decline extending his time on the job, he often doesn’t. He’s a workaholic and one of the small number of people at KorTac with no family to speak of, so he often takes on the burden staying on longer when needed. The time gets away from him. He’s gone longer than a year.

He comes back, anxious about where he stands with you. What you had hadn’t exactly been exclusive, and it’s hard to believe that you wouldn’t have been snapped up in that time away. To him, there can be no shortage of other men in your life that are crazy about you.

He contacts you. You tell him that you’re not really in a position to meet up with him, and you don’t really know if you ever will be again, honestly. His hands are sweating and his fingers fuck up on the keyboard all the time, so he just decides to call. Ask you what he’s done, if there’s someone else, if you know that he’s madly in love—

Not thirty seconds into the phone call, just barely past the niceties and pleasant greetings, when all of those questions are on the tip of his tongue— he hears crying. A baby crying. You tell him hurriedly that you’ll have to call him back. He decides he just can’t wait that long. He goes to your place.

You answer the door with a baby in a sling around you, tucked up to your chest, markedly more calm than it had been over the phone. Red hair. Your expression is a little tightened, like you hadn’t really wanted to see him at the door.

“As you can see, I’m not really able to attend a dick appointment right now.”

Fuck, is that what it was? You thought he just wanted sex?

A Quick look at your apartment tells him there isn’t anyone else. No men’s shoes by the door. Photos on the wall are just you and your friends— no partner in sight. It’s also kind of a mess. If there was a man in your life, he deserved to have his head beat in for leaving you to deal with all of this alone all day.

Then comes the quick mental math.

“That’s not what I want. Let me come in, schatz. Let me talk to you.”

It breaks his heart to see how reticent you are to let him in. It’s part and parcel with how tired you look.

“Look, if you’re wondering— yes, he’s yours, biologically.” Well, that clarification at the end stings a little. “But it was my choice to keep him, so I don’t expect anything from you. If this feels like an obligation to you, I’d prefer if we just cut things off here.”

The words that follow spill from his mouth uncontrollably.

“I don’t just want him— I want you. I want the both of you. I want it to be us,” he nearly babbles, hoping what he says is even halfway coherent.

“You’re all I think of when I’m away. I cannot lie and say I’d imagined the… the order of events would be this way. But I’d thought of it— with you. Please let me in, and… and let me meet him properly, ja?”

There are tears in his eyes when his son holding his finger for the first time, not ten minutes later.

[sunshiinebeetle]

Plural Mars Analysis

This is just chapter 1 cause it's kind of late- let me know if you want more!! I have many thoughts on chapter 2 and 3 so far :]

I'll be posting pages of the comic for readability, but PLEASEEEE read it HERE!! I leave several pages out and it'd be really sad not to support the original.

It’s important to note here how the bunny plush very quickly switches from aggressive to hurt and scared. The aggression is a defense mechanism, but not one that Mars wants to use. It comes from fear of breaking their “normal”. Once it’s shown that Laika won’t be easily scared off, it stops and runs away. Akin to an opossum (which have a very weak bite strength) flashing its teeth. I believe that the bunny was never going to hit Laika, at least not very hard (especially when later it’s shown that Mars has extreme reactions to the idea of hurting people).

Ok very important 2 pages, cause SYMBOLISM!! Willow has mentioned before that they packed a lot of symbolism and hidden clues into Laika’s, especially involving Mars’ backstory in chapter 1. The motif of bunny, kitty, teddy is shown on these two pages, the second is the “intro” page for Mars. It’s not lost on me that these three plushies are in the debut shot. They’re a deep representation of them! This will be elaborated on later, but for now I’m going to break Mars down into 3 alters. Bunny (timid, flight response), Kitty (neutral/happy, protected from those emotions), and Teddy (serious, fight/fawn response). I’ll be referring to them by these names to keep the confusion to a minimum.

Here we see Teddy Mars holding the bunny plush (representing Bunny Mars) and once again trying to intimidate Laika into going away. This is a weaker attempt, and shows Teddy’s fawn response as well- they don’t want to offend Laika so they use polite language, but still ask a question that will help them understand how best to protect the system. They don’t drop their stars until Laika displays that she’s not a threat. Notice what Laika is saying and how Mars’ reaction shifts entirely…

This is because Bunny switches in! Teddy is still co-fronting (as they’re prone to do) to keep an eye on things, but generally lets Bunny lead the conversation. Right away you’ll notice that Mars’ claws go away. Teddy’s claws are often extended because they’re on edge and protective, but Bunny has softer paws (and a complex about hurting things). Teddy’s claws are out when they cast the magic because Bunny doesn’t use magic intentionally. Bunny seeks comfort from Laika as soon as they know she’s safe.

Arguably there’s a hint of Kitty Mars in here too, especially on the second page. Bunny’s body language is often very closed off and small, but when Mars offers to show Laika their room and toys, their posture opens up and their tone shifts!

During the first page Mars is very blended between Bunny and Kitty. This is to emotionally protect Mars as they walk past all the portraits of their past. I’ll explain more later, but Kitty Mars is walled off emotionally from (at least some of) their trauma, while Bunny bears the guilt for it. You can see them both emote during the conversation- up until Kitty blends in, Mars doesn’t really use any enthusiasm in their dialogue. Literally zero exclamation points. But between the two “oh!”s, Kitty peeks through in the conversation :]

Then there’s a bit of wind as Bunny talks more, subconsciously using their powers due to their melancholy. The mood gets more tense as they breach a painful topic.

Mars avoids the question, shutting down emotionally… Kitty is likely booted from the front due to the traumatic nature of the topic. This coincides with their arrival at Mars’ room, which is perhaps also a trigger for Kitty to leave. The lightheartedness from their headmate disappears and leaves Bunny feeling hurt.

This is the first time we see Bunny properly shut down. They try to confide in Laika about their guilt and seek comfort, but she doesn’t quite get it… Good effort though!! Bunny’s routine and mental state at this point is a form of self punishment. They can’t leave because they haven’t hurt enough to pay for it. But at the same time they desperately don’t want to be alone. They’d had fun meeting Laika, but since she can’t stay (that would be “selfish”) and Mars can’t leave (that would be “disobedient” and “too good for them”), they just get even more hurt when Laika gives them a non-solution that just reminds them of their loneliness. The reality dawning on them feels crushing.

Bunny’s subconscious magic spikes again. This provides a solution to their conundrum- it’s not their choice, but authority’s. They won’t have to tell Laika to leave, which would break their heart, playtime is simply over. Teddy comes back to help Bunny cope and not break down- their speech becomes more clipped and formal, and their expression neutralizes (except for when it cracks, showing Bunny’s feelings). Teddy’s fawn response also shows, asking Laika politely to do the same as them. BIG ol trauma response. Clearly this was the way that Mars survived every scary encounter before. It’s trained, and likely why Teddy split in the first place.

Teddy is polite again, and using their magic intentionally to make the encounter run smoothly. They keep giving Laika instructions so that nothing goes wrong. This behavior implies that they were punished over very small things, even hesitation.

More trauma responses!! Mars looks almost bored here, but it’s actually Teddy’s trained neutral expression. You can’t get yelled at for feeling things if you’re feeling nothing! Teddy is maintaining this to mask Bunny’s fear of being around their parents, but it’s a hard thing to do. As tension gets higher, Bunny’s expressions show through and they start shaking.

Bunny is resigned to riding out this encounter, but Laika can’t stand for it. She interrupts, which terrifies Teddy. She’s way out of line in their mind, and they don’t want anyone to get punished when they can simply take the hurt. Teddy snaps at Laika, using their powers on accident for once. When Laika gets hurt by this, Bunny gets scared for two reasons. 1. They hurt someone, a severe trigger for Bunny. 2. It wasn’t Bunny controlling the body in a situation where they were otherwise the main pilot. This is an objectively terrifying thing to happen, and there’s often a lot of emotional conflict about this in systems who don’t know what’s going on.

Bunny is triggered and shuts down once again. Teddy directs the magic to get Laika out of there and away from Bunny to help them calm down. The earrings doll tries to grab Laika, while the tie doll swipes at her; this implies that they were the more violent and impulsive of the two. Additionally, the tie doll hurting the earrings doll was likely an allusion to domestic abuse between Mars’ parents. However, both were abusive to Mars in their own ways.

Laika unintentionally invokes the royalty/fairy tale symbolism, which speaks to Bunny and cuts through their shutdown. Since their reality hurts so much for them, they find everything much easier to process in stories.

You could see this as Bunny breaking down, but I think it’s Teddy too. Throughout this chapter, Teddy has been nearby suppressing everyone’s emotional reactions to protect them. But now they give into the hurt and the guilt and the loneliness and finally let themself AND Bunny express how they feel. It’s only now that they accept that vulnerability that they can drop their intentional disguise of everything in town. They hid everything to keep Kitty and Bunny happy, to keep them safe. But now that there’s someone else to protect them, they let themself be a scared kid and all of their hard work crumbles under the stress of keeping everything together. (At the beginning of this chapter when Mars is introduced, Teddy was playing with Bunny to keep them happy and distracted. Bunny feels lonely despite their headmates company and is prone to spiraling when they feel bad, so part of Teddy’s job is to entertain them to keep the illusion of stability.) Anyways that's all for now :3 I'll probably do the rest of the comic later. Keep in mind that everything I say here is just my interpretation and I could definitely be wrong! Though it'd be fun to see how accurate I am hehe

obligatory @laikascomet tag <3 yes i'm the same guy who mentioned it on stream :]

[heesangelic]

easy, ma – l.hs

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ A LEE HEESEUNG [희승] DRABBLE!

genre. smut, fluff? .˚⊹ pairing. non-idol,,best friend heeseung x fem reader. ໒꒱ warning(s). smut, pwp, consensual sex, petname use, praise, dirty talk, nipple play, soft dom!hee, sub!reader, piv, size training?, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!). word ct. 1221

synopsis .ᐟ size training with your best friend during a sleepover. <3

꒰ 💬 ꒱ mi note. this is my very first time writing smut, please understand that i may be incorrect in descriptions– feel free to correct me and offer your feedback!

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

as usual, the morning began with breakfast at your favorite café in town– headed to campus afterward for your only lecture of the day. once you'd completed class, you'd returned home to relax until your best friend texted you, granting permission for you to come over.

from there, it remained ordinary as you gathered your sleepover bag and keys, shortly arriving at heeseung's within the hour.

he'd greeted you at the front door, smile on his lips and pearly whites on display. "hey, babydoll." his voice was raspy, as though he'd awoken from a nap.

"you okay? you sound tired, hee." you commented in concern, your voice so incredibly soft and sweet to him.

with a clear of his throat, he brushed it off by muttering, "just a long day." to which led you to step inside, your shoes abandoned in the entryway.

of course, you'd made yourself at home in his small flat– hints of you sprawled across the boy's space considering how often you'd see one another. you made way into his bedroom, plopping your tote bag onto his messy, clothes-ridden floor.

however, the air seemed unusual, tense even, as heeseung entered the room behind you.

pivoting, you face the boy with a skeptical furrow of your brows, eyeing him up and down– to which he awkwardly remains still, nervously shifting from side to side.

"why're you so quiet, seung?" you question with slight worry, yet mostly confusion due to his atypical silent behavior.

"babydoll." he tries to interrupt, taking a step forward as you continue to interrogate him.

"are you sure everything's okay? do you need some alone time?–" you continued to blabber, to which the boy paused right in front of you, hands settling upon your waist.

"y/n." his low voice finally reaches your ears, causing you to glance up and meet his eyes.

"i'm okay, really. it's just.. not something we freely talk about." he eases your concern, only to pique your curiosity further.

"but 's bothering you?" you ask yet another question, causing him to let out a soft laugh– earning a hesitant, half nod from him.

"well... i suppose you could say that, doll." heeseung responds, his lips curved in a soft smile at your attentiveness to him. one of his hands reach to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"then let's talk about it." you blurt, unaware of the topic on the boy's mind at that very moment.

"oh, you want to?" he questions, eyes darkening as he bites the corner of his lip.

"if it helps, mm-hm!" you confirm in a quick hum, nodding your head in gesture.

"alright, let's talk about it." he agrees, his lips curving up into a mischievous smile.

"see that, sweetheart?" heeseung questions ever so softly, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear as he stands behind you. one of his arms encircled around your waist, the other extended from beneath your arm, phone in hand– your instagram story from hours ago on display.

"oh! my instagram story? mm-hm." you recognize the photo of you in a pair of petite sleep shorts and the zip-up hoodie you'd borrowed from him. "is it 'bout your hoodie? can give it back, hee." you try to make reason of why he'd be upset, misunderstanding completely.

" 'course not, baby. want you to keep it, actually." the boy responds with a low murmur, his lips lingering dangerously close to your neck.

"wait, then what's botherin' you?" your obliviousness would typically annoy the boy, but in this matter, he'd hoped for you to piece things together yourself.

he stepped even closer, his figure practically molded to yours.

and that's when you realize the issue at hand.

it leaves you speechless, how erected his cock is, from viewing just a mere photo of you.

"y/n, please. i understand if you don't want to do anything intimate with me, but i need to relieve myself because it's so painful." he admits with a soft grunt spilling past his lips, his hips rutting forward and pressing his erection against the plushness of your ass.

"no!" you protest, shifting in his hold to face him. "i– i mean no, as in don't do it by yourself." you add quickly, hoping to avoid any further misunderstanding.

"i'm sorry?" he mutters in confusion, his brows furrowing in surprise at your response.

"wanna help, hee. can make the pain go away." you reassure, reaching forward to palm him through the layers of his sweatpants and boxers.

earning another grunt from the boy, he breathlessly agrees with a small "fuck," and nod of his head.

and that's what led to you straddled upon heeseung's lap on his gaming chair, naked and bare for his gaze– a sight he'd never forget, forever engraved in his mind.

not even sank onto his mushroom tip, you stare up at him nervously. one of his hands rests beneath the plush of your ass, the other extended toward your right breast, pinching and twisting your nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

earning a whimper from your lips, the boy smiles at the sight of you visibly melting into his touch. "c'mon, baby. start with the tip, i know you can do it." he encourages in a gentle tone, continuing to pleasure you by fondling your chest.

" 'm scared, seung." you admit, exhaling as you decide to begin sinking down onto his cock, the stretch being uncomfortable– but bearable due to the fact it was only the tip.

"doing so good for me, angel." he hisses at the sensitivity, the bulb of his cock throbbing as your warm cavern enveloped him. "gonna have this pussy trained for me in no time." he adds, fighting the urge to buck his hips and rut into you successfully.

"mmph, hee." you babble in discomfort, remaining still for a moment before sinking down even further, half of his cock being swallowed up by your gunmy walls.

heeseung was evidently enjoying the experience, despite the delicious anticipation of filling you to the brim– his head thrown back as he groans, both hands now grasping your hips.

"easy, ma." he regains his bearings, returning his gaze to you as he tries to help you ease onto his thick cock.

gasping for breath, you decide to simply go for it– sinking all the way onto his size, hands grasping at his shoulders, biceps; anything to ground yourself through the pleaseurable pain.

it wasn't as though you'd never been dicked down before, just that you'd never encountered someone of heeseung's inches and girth.

"mm, you're so tight." heeseung comments, humming in satisfaction of finally being fully sucked inside of you. his hips buck, fucking his tip further past your gumminess.

"oh, fuck!" you release a high-pitched whimper, your lips parting in an 'o'.

"i know, ma. told you that you could take all that cock." he coos, fingers gripping the skin of your hips so hard that the flesh protrudes between his fingers.

it wasn't long before you'd begun to bounce against his lap, the squelching of his cock's constant enter and exit of your pussy sounding throughout the room.

between his groans and grunts, the boy continued to praise you, his newest little cockslut– only to elicit needy whines from your lips in return.

it was obvious that by the end of the night, he'd have you fucked to the brink of dumb.

[kaijuno]

"No piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has. It's programmed to try to contain the hydraulic fluid that’s constantly leaking out and required to keep itself running...if too much escapes, it will die so it's desperately trying to pull it back to continue to fight for another day. Saddest part is they gave the robot the ability to do these 'happy dances' to spectators. When the project was first launched it danced around spending most of its time interacting with the crowd since it could quickly pull back the small spillage. Many years later... (as you see it now in the video) it looks tired and hopeless as there isn't enough time to dance anymore.. It now only has enough time to try to keep itself alive as the amount of leaked hydraulic fluid became unmanageable as the spill grew over time. Living its last days in a never-ending cycle between sustaining life and simultaneously bleeding out... (Figuratively and literally as its hydraulic fluid was purposefully made to look like it's actual blood).

"The robot arm finally ran out of hydraulic fluid in 2019, slowly came to a halt and died - And I am now tearing up over a friggin robot arm 😭 It was programmed to live out this fate and no matter what it did or how hard it tried, there was no escaping it. Spectators watched as it slowly bled out until the day that it ceased to move forever. Saying that 'this resonates' doesn't even do it justice imo. Created by Sun Yuan & Peng Yu, they named the piece, 'Can't Help Myself'. What a masterpiece. What a message."

Extended interpretations: the hydraulic fluid in relation to how we kill ourselves both mentally and physically for money just in an attempt to sustain life, how the system is set up for us to fail on purpose to essentially enslave us and to steal the best years of our lives to play the game that the richest people of the world have designed. How this robs us of our happiness, passion and our inner peace. How we are slowly drowning with more responsibilities, with more expected of us, less rewarding pay-offs and less free time to enjoy ourselves with as the years go by. How there's really no escaping the system and that we were destined at birth to follow a pretty specific path that was already laid out before us. How we can give and give and give and how easily we can be forgotten after we've gone.. How we are loved and respected when we are valuable, then one day we aren't any longer and we become a burden...and how our young, free-caring spirit gets stolen from us as we get churned out of the broken system that we are trapped inside of. Can also be seen to represent the human life cycle and the fact that none of us make it out of this world alive. But also can act as a reminder to allow yourself to heal, rest and love with all of your heart. That the endless chase for 'more' isn't necessary in finding your own inner happiness.”

[nyarumie]

What if Soshiro's girlfriend was nice to Weapon 10 because it saved his life and instead of being flustered 10 also start liking her and now Soshiro feels like he has to share his gf with the suit!!

A small continuation to 'Suit Anomaly', based from this ask! (Click here for Part 3)

Author's Reply: Hi, Anon! This sounds adorable! His gf's semi rude attitude towards No. 10 was because of the injuries Soshiro got from their fight, but she's not a totally cold person so I can see this happening! I shall do my best ♡

Requests and messages are welcome on my ask box! I can also write for Narumi and Mina (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Just a few weeks after the nationwide cataclysm orchestrated by Kaiju No. 9, you once again found yourself standing in the very same training facility right after a small kaiju attack from the previous day. This time, you’re equipped with your own numbers weapon just in case it goes haywire after all the damage it sustained.

“How does it feel?” you ask him.

“Still as uncomfortable as ever,” he said. “Can’t say this thing’s more tame now, it’s as battle hungry as always; but it kinda listens to me and has a l’il bit of common sense now.”

You snort, hearing No. 10 roar an “Are you saying I’m stupid?!” at him.

Knowing him, Soshiro just refuses to tell the truth: He’s grown comfortable wearing his numbered suit, despite the strain it deals on his body. It’s particularly crazy how he’s able to wear it and fight using it again just after a few days of being discharged from the medbay—any normal officer wouldn’t be able to walk after that destructive fight.

"Hmm… You both did well in yesterday's fight," you started, followed with a sigh, "But you didn't need to go all-out at all. They were just small fry!"

Soshiro comically scratched his head, "No offense sweetie, but I think you're just upset you didn't get to kill one yesterday. This guy wanted to wipe 'em all out for ya. Some kind of thanks for actively watchin' over the suit's repair."

"I didn't say anything like that!" it complained.

Soshiro crossed his arms and complained, "Ya keep dragging me to her area! Told ya she's as strong as we are, but you kept screaming at me saying somethin' like 'Oi, Hoshina! Ain't you gonna protect your little foul mouthed girlfriend?!'"

"Stop lying! I just wanted to get a higher kill count; you're being too lousy in battle!"

'Ah… compatibility aside, the arguments aren't stopping soon.' you thought.

You cleared your throat, getting their attention back to you. "If that's the case, then I extend my deepest gratitude to you both—but you don't have to worry about me!"

Proceeding to closely inspect the suit, you went down on one knee and thoroughly observed its tail, which had been severed during their fight with Kaiju no. 12. You started caressing it, seemingly deep in thought.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I told you I'm not a pet!"

Soshiro just quietly observed the scene, curious at your actions.

Going to stand in front of Soshiro again, you bent your upper body forward to meet the Kaiju's eye.

For the first time since he's donned this suit, you gave it a sincere smile. "I give you my deepest thanks for protecting Soshiro. You did well."

Silence.

After a minute of solid silence, the tail started aggressively swaying around and a frantic scream from Okonogi caught yours and Soshiro's attention.

"Vice Captain! Platoon Leader! I advise you to end the monitoring session—the suit's rapidly overheating for no reason!"

Eh?

Soshiro started pulling the tail, trying to get it to behave. "You cyclops! Keep still! My girlfriend's not flirtin' with ya, not with a Kaiju!"

"Cyclops?! I'm not even doing anything, bowlcut bastard!"

As you laugh at the entertainment in front of you, the Kaiju detection alarm goes off.

"Let's go. Make sure you let me kill some today, alright?" you said, mood heightened.

That being said…

In the midst of the battle, it took Soshiro a great deal of strength just to stop the Kaiju suit from rushing towards your aid.

The both of them started arguing again after the fight, as Soshiro saw how its tail was subtly waving when you approached them, as if asking to be caressed again.

"Ya don't get to ask my girlfriend to touch yer tail! I'm not sharin' her with you!"

"I didn't ask her anything! And would you look at that, she's already touching it!"

With a pout akin to that of a child getting their lollipop stolen, Soshiro said, "Dear, ya don't have to do that! I'm right here!"

You giggled, wanting to tease him a bit. "And I can see you well enough, 'Shiro. You'll get your kisses later, yeah?"

He groaned, continuing their seemingly never-ending argument.

Oh, you can get used to this.

[baelabong]

ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ

(ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

rq: yes

Pairing: Knight! G!P! Karina x princess! fem reader

Note/warnings: multiple s*x scenes, swearing, this is all fiction gang, riding Next

“Y/N,” he begins, his tone one of authority. “Next week Wednesday is an important night, not just for our kingdom, but for you personally.”

You nod, trying to keep your expression composed. “Yes, Father.”

He walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip is firm, a reminder of the expectations that have always been placed on you. “Mark’s family is powerful, their influence extends across many lands. A strong alliance with them would benefit our kingdom greatly. It’s time you start thinking about your future… about marriage.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, but you force yourself to remain calm, nodding in agreement. “I understand, Father.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Y/N. But as a princess, your duty to the kingdom must come first. Tonight, you must show Mark’s family that you’re ready to take on that responsibility.”

You swallow hard, your throat tightening as you suppress the emotions threatening to break free. “I will do my best, Father.”

He gives you a small, approving nod before turning back to the window. “Good. Now, go prepare yourself for the ball. Remember, the future of our kingdom rests on your shoulders.”

With a final bow, you leave his chambers, your composure intact until you’re out of sight. The moment you reach your own room, however, the dam breaks. You collapse onto your bed, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your father’s words crashes over you.

It’s not just the thought of marriage that tears at your heart—it’s the knowledge that you could never be with the one person you truly love. The unfairness of it all feels suffocating, as though you’re trapped in a cage with no escape.

The door to your chambers opens quietly, and you look up to see Karina standing there. Her expression shifts from concern to heartbreak when she sees you crying. She rushes to your side, kneeling beside you as she gently takes your hands in hers.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” she asks softly, her voice filled with worry. “What happened?”

You can barely speak through your sobs, but the words tumble out in a broken whisper. “It’s so unfair, Karina. My father… he wants me to marry Mark. He says it’s my duty to the kingdom, but… but what about us? Why can’t we be together?”

Karina’s jaw clenches, and you can see the anger flicker in her eyes. She pulls you into her arms, holding you tightly as if she can shield you from the pain of reality. “You’ll always have me, Y/N. I’ll be by your side, no matter what. And if it comes to it, I’ll run away with you. We can leave this place, start a new life where no one can tell us what we can or cannot be.”

You pull back slightly, looking into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. “You would do that for me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

Her eyes blaze with fierce determination as she cups your face in her hands. “I would do anything for you. I’d even get rid of anyone who stands in our way… even your father if it meant keeping you safe and happy.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her words, a surge of emotion overwhelming you. The world around you falls away, and all that matters is Karina—her love, her devotion, the way she makes you feel safe and cherished. Without thinking, you crash your lips against hers, the kiss filled with desperation and raw need.

Karina responds immediately, her arms wrapping around you as she deepens the kiss. You can feel the intensity in the way she holds you, as if she never wants to let go. Her hands begin to roam, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

You break the kiss, panting as you look at her with a mix of longing and urgency. “Karina… I need you. Please…”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. In a blur of motion, she lifts you into her arms, carrying you over to the bed. She lays you down gently, her eyes dark with desire as she hovers over you. The sight of her above you, her hair falling like a curtain around your face, sends a shiver of anticipation through you.

“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice husky, though you can see the tenderness in her eyes.

You nod, your hands trembling as they reach for her. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, she kisses you again, her lips moving down your neck as her hands begin to undo the delicate ties of your gown. The fabric slips away, exposing your skin to the cool air and Karina’s burning touch. Her fingers trace over your curves, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she explores every inch of you.

Your breaths become ragged as her hands move lower, teasing and caressing, until you’re a trembling mess beneath her. The composed princess, who stood so poised before her father, is gone. All that remains is a woman lost in the throes of passion, unable to hold back the moans and gasps that escape her lips.

“Karina… please…” you plead, your voice barely a whisper as you arch into her touch.

She doesn’t make you wait any longer. Her hand slips between your thighs, and you cry out at the sensation, your body reacting instantly to her touch. She watches you, her eyes filled with a mix of love and desire, as she brings you to the edge of ecstasy.

You can barely think, your mind clouded with pleasure as she continues to work her magic. Words fall from your lips, broken and breathless as you cling to her, your nails digging into her shoulders. “Karina… I… I’m…”

“Let go,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice soothing as she pushes you over the edge. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’ll always have you.”

With a final cry, you shatter, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crash over you. Karina holds you through it, her touch never wavering as she guides you back down, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your flushed skin.

When it’s over, you collapse against her, your heart racing as you try to catch your breath. Karina pulls you close, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she whispers soothing words in your ear.

“You’re mine,” she whispers, her voice full of conviction. “And I’ll never let anyone take you from me.”

You smile weakly, feeling safe and cherished in her embrace. “And I’m yours,” you murmur, your voice filled with emotion. “Always”

——

The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow through the tall windows of your chambers. You stand before a large mirror, admiring the way your gown shimmers like stardust. The intricate embroidery catches the light, making you look like a vision of royalty. You smile softly at your reflection, but the flutter in your stomach isn’t just from the anticipation of the grand ball—it’s from the woman standing just behind you, her presence as electrifying as ever.

Karina, your ever-loyal knight, is supposed to be helping you get ready, but her touch lingers far longer than necessary, her hands wandering over the soft fabric of your dress and the bare skin of your shoulders. Her fingers trace delicate patterns on your back, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in close.

“You look stunning,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. “But you know, I could just as easily take this gown off you as I put it on.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her words, and you bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “Karina,” you whisper, your voice trembling with both excitement and a hint of warning. “We don’t have time for this… the ball—”

“Let them wait,” she interrupts, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against her. “You know how much I hate sharing you with them.”

You laugh softly, though it quickly turns into a quiet gasp as she presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, her lips lingering there. “Karina, please,” you try to protest, but your resolve is already weakening under her touch.

She turns you around to face her, her eyes dark with longing as they meet yours. “Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you?” she asks, her voice low and husky. “To watch you parade around in front of all those nobles, pretending you belong to the kingdom when you’re mine?”

The possessiveness in her tone sends a thrill through you, and you can’t help the way your body responds to her, leaning into her touch. “I belong to you,” you whisper, your hands coming up to rest on her chest. “But we must be careful. If anyone finds out…”

She silences you with a deep, searing kiss, her hands sliding up to cup your face. The kiss is filled with a mix of frustration and need, her lips demanding as they move against yours. You melt into her, the worries about the ball and the court slipping away, replaced by the sheer intensity of her kiss.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, her forehead resting against yours. “I’ll never let anyone take you from me,” she vows, her voice rough with emotion. “You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine.”

Your heart swells at her words, and you nod, your hands tightening on her arms. “And I’m yours,” you reply, your voice soft but firm. “Now and always.”

She kisses you again, more gently this time, before reluctantly pulling away. “We should go,” she says, though the reluctance is clear in her voice. “Before I decide to keep you all to myself.”

You laugh softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You always know how to make me want to stay,” you tease, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping back.

Karina watches as you turn back to the mirror, her eyes never leaving you as you finish preparing. She helps you with the final touches, her fingers brushing against yours as she adjusts your necklace, her gaze filled with both love and longing.

“Are you ready, my princess?” she asks, her voice a soft whisper in your ear.

You nod, turning to face her once more. “As long as you’re by my side.”

She smiles, a rare, tender smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

——

The grand ballroom buzzes with life, the music resonating through the space as the elite of the kingdom whirl about in their finest attire. You, Princess Y/N, are the center of attention, as always. Tonight, you're dressed in a gown that shimmers like stardust, catching the light with every graceful movement you make. You smile and nod politely at the courtiers and nobles who bow as you pass, though your heart is elsewhere—focused on the one person who truly matters to you.

From across the room, you feel Karina's eyes on you. Your knight, ever vigilant, stands close to the shadows, her gaze never straying far from you. She’s always been your protector, your confidante, and now, your secret love. The bond you share is a hidden treasure, known only to the two of you, kept safe from the prying eyes of the court.

As you continue to circulate through the room, your attention is suddenly drawn to Prince Mark, who approaches with an easy confidence. His charm is well-known, and the look in his eyes tells you that tonight, his interest is solely on you.

“Your Highness,” he says with a smooth bow, his eyes gleaming as they meet yours. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

You hesitate for a brief moment, your thoughts flickering to Karina. But you know that you must accept; refusing him in front of the court could raise unnecessary questions. With a composed smile, you place your hand in his. “Of course, Your Grace.”

As the two of you begin to dance, Mark pulls you slightly closer, his grip firm but still within the bounds of propriety. The two of you move together effortlessly, and for those watching, you’re the perfect picture of royalty. Yet, there’s an unease in the pit of your stomach, a feeling that only grows as Mark’s gaze lingers on you longer than it should.

“Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “you are even more beautiful up close than I imagined. It’s no wonder everyone speaks so highly of you.”

You offer a polite smile, keeping your expression neutral. “You flatter me, Your Grace.”

You nod, allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor. As you move together to the rhythm of the music, he watches you closely, his gaze intent. “You must have suitors from every corner of the kingdom, vying for your hand,” he begins, his voice low and intimate. “But I wonder, has anyone truly captured your heart?”

His question pulls at something deep inside you, and you can’t help but laugh softly, the sound tinged with the memory of the night before—a memory that flashes vividly in your mind.

---

It was late, the palace silent, the moonlight casting a soft glow through the curtains of your chambers. Karina, your loyal knight and secret lover, had entered your room with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. She closed the door behind her, sealing off the world outside, leaving only the two of you in the quiet intimacy of the night.

Without a word, she crossed the room, her eyes locked onto yours. You tried to maintain your composure, the grace and poise expected of a princess, but it all began to slip away the moment Karina reached you. She cupped your face in her hands, her touch gentle yet commanding, and leaned in to press her lips against yours in a kiss that was both tender and full of unspoken desire.

“Y/N,” she murmured against your lips, her voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. “You drive me mad, you know that?”

You smiled against her mouth, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what do you plan to do about it, Karina?”

Her answer was to deepen the kiss, her hands moving to the laces of your gown, deftly untying them. “I’m going to make you mine,” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. “I’m going to make you forget everything but me.”

You shivered at her words, a quiet moan escaping your lips as she pushed the gown from your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. The cool air of the room brushed against your bare skin, but all you could focus on was Karina—her touch, her scent, the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Karina,” you breathed, your hands finding their way to the hem of her tunic, tugging it over her head. “I need you.”

She groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she kissed a path down your neck. “You’ll have me, Y/N,” she promised, her voice thick with need. “But first, I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say that you’re mine.”

You gasped as her hands roamed over your body, her fingers brushing over sensitive spots that made you arch into her touch. “I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “I’m yours, Karina.”

She smiled against your skin, a wicked smile that made your pulse race. “That’s what I like to hear,” she murmured, her lips trailing down your collarbone, over the curve of your breast. Her hands gripped your hips, guiding you back until you were lying on the bed, her body hovering over yours.

“Tell me how much you want this,” she said, her voice low and commanding as she teased you with light touches, her fingers brushing over your thighs.

“I want this more than anything,” you moaned, your back arching as she continued to tease you, the ache between your legs growing with every passing second. “Please, Karina, don’t make me wait.”

She chuckled softly, a sound full of dark promise. “Oh, my princess, I won’t make you wait long,” she said, positioning herself between your legs. “But I need you to know that I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. Do you understand?”

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping the sheets as she finally entered you, a cry of pure pleasure escaping your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, her rhythm steady and deep, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“Karina,” you gasped, your voice breaking as she moved inside you, the pleasure building with each thrust. “Oh, gods, Karina—”

“Louder,” she demanded, her voice rough with desire as she quickened her pace, her hands tightening on your hips. “I want to hear you scream my name, Y/N.”

And you did. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming to hold back. You screamed her name as she brought you to your peak, your body trembling beneath hers as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

---

Back in the ballroom, Prince Mark’s words pull you back to the present, a soft, knowing smile tugging at your lips as you laugh lightly, your mind still lingering on the memory of Karina and the way she had completely unraveled you just hours ago.

The question catches you off guard, and for a split second, your mind flashes to Karina—her steady gaze, the way she always seems to understand you without a word. You quickly compose yourself, offering a practiced response. “As a princess, my duties to the kingdom come first, Prince Mark. Matters of the heart are secondary.”

Mark’s smile widens, but there’s a calculating edge to it. “Perhaps,” he says, leaning in just a fraction closer, “but even the most dutiful princess deserves someone who understands her, who can stand by her side through all challenges. I could be that person, Y/N.”

His use of your name, without the formal title, feels too intimate, too presumptuous. You maintain your composure, though inside, you can feel your frustration building. “Your Grace, you are kind to offer such sentiments, but I believe you overestimate your familiarity with me.”

Mark chuckles softly, undeterred by your cool response. “Perhaps, but I would very much like to change that. I see in you a strength, a wisdom that surpasses others of your rank. Together, we could do great things.”

The dance continues, but your thoughts are no longer on the music or the steps. You’re acutely aware of Karina, standing just out of sight, undoubtedly watching this interaction with a heavy heart. You glance briefly in her direction, catching her silhouette in the corner of your eye. The tension in her posture is unmistakable—she’s holding herself back, maintaining her knightly duty, but you know she’s struggling to keep her emotions in check.

As the music draws to a close, Mark tightens his grip on your hand slightly, as if he doesn’t want to let you go just yet. “Think about what I’ve said, Princess,” he says quietly, his tone sincere. “You deserve someone who sees you for who you truly are.”

You nod politely, withdrawing your hand as the dance ends. “I appreciate your words, Your Grace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to my other guests.”

Before Mark can respond, Karina appears at your side, her presence a reassuring balm to your frayed nerves. She bows slightly, her voice calm but with an edge of urgency. “Your Highness, may I have a word?”

You nod, grateful for the interruption. As you walk away from the crowded ballroom, you feel Karina’s hand brush against yours—a brief, hidden touch that sends warmth through your entire being. Once you’re alone in a secluded corridor, Karina turns to you, her eyes searching yours.

“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice filled with concern.

You nod, though the encounter with Mark has left you unsettled. “I’m fine, Karina. But he was… persistent.”

Karina’s jaw tightens, and you can see the storm brewing behind her usually composed exterior. “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” she admits, her voice low and filled with barely-contained jealousy. “He doesn’t know you like I do, and I won’t let him think he can have you.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand on her cheek. “And he won’t,” you assure her softly, leaning in until your lips meet hers in a tender, stolen kiss. “You’re the one I choose, Karina. Always.”

Karina’s breath catches, her eyes darkening with a mix of desire and possessiveness as your words sink in. She tightens her grip on your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Then show me,” she whispers, her voice rough with emotion, as if daring you to prove your devotion.

Your heart skips a beat at her command, the intensity in her gaze sending a shiver down your spine. Without another word, you quickly glance around to ensure no one is watching, then take her hand and lead her down the dimly lit corridor. Your steps are hurried, the anticipation and need driving you forward until you find a door to a private room—one that you know will offer the seclusion you both crave.

You push the door open, pulling Karina inside before shutting it behind you. The moment the door clicks shut, Karina is on you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s both demanding and filled with raw passion. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in her hair as you press your body against hers, needing to feel every inch of her.

She backs you up against the bed, her hands roaming over your curves, teasing the sensitive skin beneath your dress. You moan into her mouth as she grips your hips, lifting you slightly before laying you down on the bed. She hovers over you, her eyes devouring the sight of you laid out beneath her, your dress slipping off your shoulders to reveal more of your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice filled with reverence as she dips her head to kiss along your neck. Her lips and teeth work in tandem, leaving a trail of marks that you know will be hidden by your gown later, but for now, they’re a claim—her claim—on you.

“Karina…” you gasp, your body arching into her touch as she works your dress down further, exposing your breasts to her hungry gaze. “Please… I need you.”

She growls low in her throat, one hand sliding down your body, pushing up the fabric of your skirts until her fingers find the slick heat between your thighs. “I’m yours, Y/N. Only yours,” she whispers before claiming your lips again, her fingers slipping inside you with ease, making you cry out.

The way she touches you, with both tenderness and urgency, sets your nerves on fire. You grip her shoulders, your hips bucking against her hand as she works you over, her thumb rubbing against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. But you need more—so much more.

“Karina,” you pant, your voice breathless as you pull her closer. “I want you inside me. Please… I need to feel you.”

She doesn’t hesitate. With a quick, deft motion, she undoes her belt and frees herself, her thick, throbbing cock springing to life. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help but reach out, your fingers wrapping around her shaft, feeling the way it twitches in your hand. She groans at your touch, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head as you stroke her a few times.

“Y/N…” she breathes, her voice strained with desire. “I need you.”

You release her, your hands shaking with anticipation as you pull her down to you, positioning her between your thighs. She lines herself up with your entrance, and you both let out a shared moan as she slowly pushes inside, stretching you in the most delicious way. Your back arches off the bed, your nails digging into her shoulders as she fills you completely.

“Oh god, Karina…” you whimper, your head falling back against the pillows as you feel her cock bulging in your stomach, the veins rubbing exquisitely against your inner walls.

She stills for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. Her eyes are locked on yours, filled with a love so deep it nearly takes your breath away. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her hands caressing your sides as she starts to move, her thrusts slow and deliberate. “How did I ever deserve you?”

Your heart swells at her words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you meet her thrusts, the pleasure building with each movement. “Karina… you’re perfect. I’m the one who’s lucky… so lucky…”

She kisses you again, her movements becoming more urgent, more frantic as the need to claim you, to make you hers, overwhelms her. You can feel every inch of her inside you, the way her cock drags against your walls, the way she seems to hit that perfect spot with every thrust. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure bordering on pain as she takes you higher and higher, until you’re both teetering on the edge.

“Karina… I’m close…” you gasp, your hands gripping her arms as you feel the coil in your belly tightening, ready to snap.

“Me too,” she groans, her hips slamming into yours as she chases her release. “I’m going to fill you up, Y/N… make you mine…”

“You’re so perfect,” Karina breathes, her voice rough with emotion as she begins to move in earnest. Her hips rock against yours, creating a rhythm that has you gasping and moaning with every thrust. “I want to fill you up with my babies, Y/N. I want you to feel me inside you, to know that you’re mine in every way.”

The words hit you like a wave, and you can barely process them through the haze of pleasure. The thought of Karina’s claim on you, her desire to leave a mark, sends shivers through your body, making your pleasure even more intense.

“Karina… please,” you moan, your hands clutching her shoulders as you try to keep your composure. “I… I want it.”

“That’s it,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear as she leans in closer. “Take it all, Y/N. I want to see you filled with my cum, to know that you’re carrying a part of me with you.”

Her words are almost too much to bear, adding an extra layer of urgency to her thrusts. You’re so lost in the pleasure that the thought of what she’s saying only intensifies the feeling. You moan loudly, your hips bucking against her as your climax draws near.

Karina’s thrusts become more frantic, her cock driving deeper, hitting all the right spots inside you. She reaches down, her hand finding your clit, rubbing it in tight circles to push you closer to the edge. “Come for me, Y/N,” she commands, her voice a low growl. “I want to feel you come around me, to know that you’re mine completely.”

The combination of her cock filling you and her fingers working magic on your clit sends you spiraling over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashes through you. You can’t think, can barely breathe as the pleasure overwhelms you. “Karina… I’m c-coming…”

“Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice filled with pride and desire as she fucks you through your climax. She speeds up her thrusts, her cock pulsing inside you as she chases her own release. “I’m going to fill you up, Y/N. You’re going to be so full of me, you won’t be able to forget who owns you.”

The force of her words pushes you even further, your orgasm extending as she continues to pound into you, filling you with her cum. You can feel her release filling you, the warmth spreading through your core as she moans and groans, her thrusts becoming erratic as she reaches her peak.

Karina finally stills, her cock twitching inside you as she spills her seed, the heat and pressure almost overwhelming. She collapses beside you, pulling you close as you both try to catch your breath. The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the faint echoes of your shared pleasure.

“You’re mine,” Karina whispers, her voice a mix of satisfaction and tenderness as she wraps her arms around you. “All mine.”

“And I’m yours,” you reply, your voice filled with a contented sigh as you snuggle into her embrace. “

Her words send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You scream her name, your body trembling as the pleasure consumes you, your inner walls clamping down around her cock.

The sensation is too much for Karina. With a guttural moan, she thrusts deep inside you one final time, her cock pulsing as she spills her hot seed into you, filling you to the brim. The warmth spreads through you, and you can feel her cum seeping out around her cock, coating your thighs in a sticky mess.

———

The moment is brief, but it’s enough to reaffirm what you both know in your hearts. You pull back just as the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. With a shared look of understanding, you both step back into your roles—princess and knight, lovers hidden in plain sight.

“Tonight, we play our parts,” you say quietly, giving her one last lingering look before you return to the ballroom. “But never forget, it’s you who holds my heart.”

As you rejoin the festivities, Karina watches from the sidelines, her protective gaze never leaving you. And while the world may see you as a princess without a suitor, you both know the truth—a love that runs deeper than duty, hidden beneath the moonlight.

The grand ballroom is alive with laughter and the soft strains of music, guests swirling around in their finest attire. You move through the crowd, your thoughts occupied with the evening's complex dynamics and your secret affair with Karina.

After your quiet, intimate moment with Karina in the hallway, you return to the ballroom, your heart lightened by her presence and the secret you both share.

You exchange fleeting glances with Karina, whose eyes remain steadfast and watchful from the sidelines.

Just as you're about to engage in conversation with a group of nobles, Mark approaches you again. This time, his demeanor is more earnest, and he catches your hand gently, guiding you to a quieter side of the room.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice carrying a note of earnest sincerity. “I have something important to ask you.”

You look up at him, sensing the gravity of the moment. “What is it, Your Grace?”

Mark’s gaze is steady and filled with emotion. He reaches into his pocket and produces a small, elegant box. With a deep breath, he opens it to reveal a sparkling engagement ring. “Princess Y/N, I know that our time together has been short, but in it, I have seen the depth of your heart and the strength of your character. I cannot imagine my future without you by my side.”

He drops to one knee, his eyes locked on yours. “Will you marry me?”

The room seems to freeze around you. Mark’s proposal hangs in the air, the weight of his words heavy and poignant. The unexpectedness of the moment leaves you breathless, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind.

As you open your mouth to respond, a soft touch on your arm makes you turn. Karina’s presence, though discreet, is unmistakable. Her eyes, filled with a mix of pain and determination, meet yours across the room.

Mark’s gaze is unwavering, waiting for your answer, while Karina’s look speaks volumes—a silent plea, a promise of unspoken love.

Oh fuck.

[niallerspayno]

Only Angel

Materlist

When you land a job as your dad’s assistant on One Direction’s tour, the last thing you expect is to fall for Harry Styles—especially when your dad is Paul. What starts as flirty banter turns into something secret, messy, and real, and hiding it from the band (and your very protective father) proves harder than you ever imagined.

Tags: Harry x reader, long hair harry, Paul's daughter reader, smut (fingering, unprotected p in v, female and male receiving oral), some fluff and angst

Author's note: Set during the Made In The A.M. era, but I've kept Zayn in the fic

...

You adjust the strap of your bag and shift awkwardly in the elevator as it climbs to the top floor. Your heart’s been doing this annoying fluttery thing all morning, but you keep telling yourself it’s just nerves. That, and the fact that your dad didn’t tell you much—just that the job was yours, and to be on time.

That’s how you find yourself here, freshly unemployed, freshly humiliated, and now… freshly hired as an assistant for One Direction.

The doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing a hotel suite already buzzing with energy. You barely get two steps inside before—

“There she is.” Your dad’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Alright, lads, eyes front. This is my daughter. She’s joining the crew, so try not to scare her off on day one.”

Your mouth opens to say hi, maybe something funny, but then you actually look up and see them.

Louis is sprawled across the couch like he owns the place—legs kicked up, phone in hand, smirk firmly in place. “Paul, mate, you didn’t tell us your daughter was fit.”

“Louis,” Paul warns.

“I’m just saying!”

Niall gives you a small, friendly wave from the kitchenette, a spoon sticking out of his mouth and a tub of Nutella in hand. “Heya. You want some? Helps with first day nerves.”

Liam is the first to actually stand, his expression warm as he offers you a hand. “Ignore them. Welcome to the circus.”

You shake it gratefully. “Thanks. I brought my own straightjacket.”

He laughs, and something in your chest unclenches just a little.

Then there’s Zayn—quiet, observant, perched near the window with a sketchbook balanced on his knee. He lifts a hand in greeting, dark eyes flicking over you once, twice. You smile back, a little unsure.

And then—

“Hi.”

The voice is deeper than you expected. Smooth, slow, dragging like honey over gravel.

You turn—and your heart does that annoying fluttery thing again, but this time it’s not nerves.

Harry Styles is taller in person. His hair is pulled into a loose knot at the nape of his neck, a few curls escaping to frame his face. He’s dressed in a worn black tee and jeans that cling far too well to his hips, rings glinting on his fingers as he extends a hand toward you.

“I’m Harry,” he says, smiling like he already knows how this story ends.

You clear your throat and slip your hand into his. “I’m Y/N.”

His grip is warm, his touch lingering just long enough to be noticeable before he lets go.

“Pretty name,” he murmurs. “Didn’t expect Paul to have such a stunning daughter.”

You raise a brow. “Didn’t expect Harry Styles to be such a cliché.”

That earns a low laugh. “Touché.”

Before he can say more, Paul claps a protective hand on your shoulder, his tone all business. “Alright, that’s enough. She’s working under me. Strictly professional. Got it?”

Harry holds up both hands like he’s surrendering, but the grin tugging at his lips betrays him. “Loud and clear, boss.”

Paul narrows his eyes for a second longer, then turns his attention back to you. “Come on, I’ll show you where we keep the schedules and what’s on for today.”

You follow him through the suite, but you feel Harry’s eyes on you the entire time. Burning into your back. You don’t dare look—mostly because you’re pretty sure if you do, he’ll smirk, and that might just kill you dead.

“Don’t let them get to you,” your dad says, handing you a clipboard. “They’ll try, trust me. Especially that one.”

“Noted.”

You sneak one glance over your shoulder anyway.

Harry’s still standing there. Still watching. And when he catches you looking, he winks.

You quickly turn back around, heat crawling up your neck.

Yeah. You’re in trouble.

...

It’s been a week.

Seven days of wrangling schedules, fetching coffee orders with ridiculous customizations, and reminding five grown men what “soundcheck” actually means.

And somehow—somehow—Harry Styles has managed to be both the bane of your existence and the highlight of every damn day.

He’s made a sport of flustering you. Brushing past a little too close. Whispering “good morning” like it’s a secret. Stealing your pen just to hand it back with a wink. Every look feels like a dare. Every smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Spoiler: he does.

You’re mid-way through checking everyone off for soundcheck when you realize—of course—he’s the only one missing.

You scan the suite, then glance at the time. Five minutes until they’re due downstairs.

Paul is across the room, deep in conversation with the stage manager, so you slip your phone out and shoot off a quick group text.

You: Everyone here for soundcheck except one suspiciously curly-haired diva.

Immediately, Louis replies.

Louis: If I have to drag him out of bed again I swear to god.

Zayn: He was in the hallway like 10 mins ago?? Probably wandered off being mysterious.

Liam: Check the roof. Or the mirror. That’s where I usually find him.

Niall: Want me to check the buffet?

You roll your eyes, bite back a smile, and head out to find him yourself.

You’re halfway down the hall when you hear it—low humming, half a tune, half a distraction. And then, there he is.

Leaning against the wall just outside the fire escape, head tipped back like he’s posing for a damn magazine cover. One boot pressed flat against the wall, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the fact that you’re inside and the lighting is dismal at best.

You pause in the doorway, one brow raised. “Lost track of time, did we?”

He doesn’t jump. Doesn’t even flinch. Just tips his head toward you like he was waiting for this exact moment.

“Knew you’d come,” he says easily, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

You cross your arms. “It’s part of my job.”

“Mmm.” He tilts his head at you. “Is that what this is? Work?”

You narrow your eyes at the way his voice dips on that last word. “You’re five minutes late.”

He pushes off the wall with deliberate ease, the heel of his boot thudding softly against the floor as he closes the distance between you.

“Five minutes,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on yours as he approaches, “and already you’re chasing me down. Can’t stay away, can you?”

You scoff, but your feet don’t move. “I’m chasing a paycheck. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I’m not flattering myself,” he says, dipping his head a little, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “I just pay attention.”

He stops in front of you, close—too close. His scent hits you first, something warm and clean, laced with the faintest trace of mint tea and cologne. His sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose, revealing green eyes that scan your face like he’s memorizing it.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

Your breath catches. “I look at you the same way I look at the coffee machine. With exhaustion.”

Harry grins, his tongue just barely swiping across his bottom lip like he’s tasting the flirt off the air.

“That so?” he asks, stepping in even closer, until your back brushes the edge of the doorframe and there’s nowhere else to go. “Because I don’t make you nearly as jittery as that machine does.”

You hate the way your heart stumbles. Hate more that he can probably feel it, standing this close. Your voice comes out tighter than you’d like. “You’re full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, cocking his head, “but I’m also right.”

His hand lifts, slow, and for a terrifying second you think he’s going to touch you—but instead, he tugs the edge of your lanyard gently between two fingers, the one with that damn silver ring catching the light.

“You should be careful with me,” he says softly. “I’ve been known to cause… complications.”

You lift your chin, refusing to be the one who backs down first. “I’m not scared of complications.”

That gets you a real smile. Dangerous and dimpled.

“Good,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Then maybe you’ll stop pretending this is just a job.”

And with that, he drops your lanyard and steps back, like he didn’t just completely knock the air from your lungs.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder as he strolls back toward the suite. “Wouldn’t want to keep your dad waiting.”

You don’t move for a full ten seconds.

Then you exhale, check your pulse, and mutter to yourself, “Get a grip.”

But you’re smiling.

And you are absolutely in trouble.

...

You’ve had enough.

It’s been ten days of Harry brushing your arm in passing, whispering cheeky comments under his breath, letting his gaze dip a little too low when you think no one’s watching. He always leaves you breathless, flustered, two steps behind while he walks off smug as hell.

Not today.

Tonight’s show is in a big arena. VIPs in the wings, cameras everywhere. The energy’s electric, the crew a well-oiled machine. And you? You show up early. On purpose. Hair done, lip gloss on, and a tight black dress under your tour jacket—fitted, simple, just the right amount of dangerous when the light hits the sheer paneling over your thighs. Just enough to make a certain someone’s brain short-circuit.

He finds you in the green room. Of course he does.

You’re leaned against the counter, phone in hand, sipping water like you don’t notice the moment his eyes land on you.

But you do.

You feel it like a heat wave. The pause in his step. The way his jaw ticks. He says nothing at first—just watches as you turn slightly, jacket slipping off your shoulder like it has a mind of its own.

You glance up through your lashes. “Something wrong, Styles?”

He blinks once. Then again. “That’s not your usual… assistant attire.”

You shrug, taking another slow sip. “Guess I felt like being appreciated for more than my scheduling skills today.”

He steps forward, eyes raking over you with a little more bite now, the teasing replaced with something darker. “You trying to kill me?”

“Not at all,” you say, all fake innocence. “I just thought I’d remind you that two can play this game.”

His tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. That stupid smirk returns—but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes now. Something sharp. Possessive.

“I like this side of you,” he says lowly, inching closer. “Confident. Calculated.”

“Dangerous?” you offer, tilting your head.

He smiles. “Only to me.”

You don’t move when he stops just in front of you, the counter behind you pressing into your back. His hands don’t touch you—he doesn’t even lean in. But it’s the tension in the air, the electric pull between your bodies that says he’s one wrong breath away from giving in.

Then, slowly, deliberately, his fingers find the edge of your jacket, brushing the fabric aside just enough to skim his knuckles over the bare skin of your arm.

“You really wore this for me?” he asks, voice barely a whisper now, his eyes locked on yours like you’re gravity itself.

You keep your chin high. “Maybe I was curious what it’d take to wipe that smug look off your face.”

His laugh is quiet, dark, a little breathless. He braces one hand on the counter beside you, his body angled into yours—not touching, but close enough that you feel the heat of him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“And you’re stalling.”

His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up. His free hand lifts, fingers tracing a featherlight path along the exposed skin at your collarbone. Just the barest touch, but it sets your whole body humming.

He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

His nose drags along your jaw, breath warm, teasing. His hand trails lower, grazing your waist, his rings cool against the fabric of your dress. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter to keep from grabbing his shirt.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his pupils blown wide, chest rising with shallow breaths.

Then—

“Whoa—Jesus, I didn’t see anything!”

Louis’ voice barrels into the room like a wrecking ball, followed by the loud slam of the door as he immediately backpedals out again.

You and Harry both freeze.

A beat of stunned silence.

Then you let out a breathy laugh, pressing your forehead to Harry’s shoulder. “Well. That was subtle.”

Harry groans, tipping his head back toward the ceiling. “He’s never letting me live this down.”

You pat his chest and step around him, fixing your hair like you didn’t just nearly kiss him against the catering counter. “Guess we’ll both have to behave now.”

He grabs your wrist, gently but firmly, pulling you back just for a second.

His voice is low. Serious.

“I don’t want to behave.”

Your stomach flips.

But your dad’s voice booms down the hall again, this time closer: “Y/N? Where the hell’s that setlist?”

You swallow, nod once, and finally pull away.

“We’ll finish this later,” you murmur.

And Harry just grins.

“Promise?”

...

The concert’s a blur.

You spend most of it half-focused, jotting notes and checking cues, trying to keep your head clear and your hands busy. But your eyes keep drifting to him. To the way his shirt clings to his chest by the second chorus. To the damp curls sticking to his forehead under the stage lights. To the way he glances toward side stage after every song like he’s looking for something.

Like he’s looking for you.

By the time they hit the last note and the crowd roars, your heart is pounding louder than the bass.

You slip away during the encore, weaving past techs and assistants and Paul, who’s preoccupied with a headset and shouting something about exit routes. Your feet move on instinct now. Backstage hallway. Left at the corner. Harry’s dressing room.

The door creaks as you push it open, and there he is—half changed, hair a wild mess, shirt undone, chest still heaving from the rush of the set.

His eyes find yours in the mirror.

You shut the door behind you. Locking it.

“Still want to behave?” you ask quietly.

He turns, slow, eyes dark. “Not even a little.”

In two steps he’s in front of you, one hand cupping your jaw, the other landing low on your waist as he backs you gently against the door. His mouth hovers over yours, breath mingling, teasing.

“You’ve been driving me mad,” he murmurs. “All night. All week.”

You smile, just a little. “Payback’s a bitch.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, but it dies on his lips as they finally crash into yours—hot, hungry, no more teasing, no more games.

It’s a kiss that says finally. His hands are everywhere—trailing your sides, gripping your hips, tugging at your jacket like he can’t decide if he wants you clothed or bare.

You tug him closer by the front of his shirt, bodies flush, mouths parting with a shared gasp as his tongue slides against yours. The kiss turns messy, desperate. His hand slips under your dress, palm skating up the back of your thigh. Your breath stutters.

He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Tell me to stop.”

You shake your head. “Don’t you dare.”

That’s all he needs.

His mouth crashes into yours again, rougher this time, all teeth and tongue and heat. His grip on your thigh tightens, dragging it up around his waist as he pins you to the door. The sharp bite of the wood at your back is nothing compared to the way his hips slot against yours, hard and eager, already grinding into you through your dress.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You do. You can feel it—his cock pressed against you through his jeans, straining, twitching every time your hips roll up to meet his.

He lifts your other leg, and instinctively, you wrap them both around him. He groans at the contact, rutting forward, lips dragging down your jaw, your throat, biting at the spot just below your ear.

“Harry—” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Been thinking about this all night,” he growls. “Thinking about you in that little dress, walking around like you weren’t fucking begging for it.”

His hand slips between your bodies, fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. He swears again, breath hot against your collarbone. “Already soaked.”

You gasp when he pushes the fabric aside, dragging two fingers through your folds—slow, teasing, obscene.

“Been like this all day, haven’t you?” he murmurs, voice rough as his fingers press in, sliding deep. “Knew exactly what you were doing. Walking around in that fucking dress, looking at me like you wanted me to lose control.”

You cry out, your back arching off the door as he curls his fingers just right, his thumb grinding tight circles over your clit.

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Liar.” His mouth finds your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark before soothing it with his tongue. “You knew. You wanted this.”

You moan as he picks up the pace, his fingers pumping fast and filthy, knuckles hitting that perfect spot over and over. Your thighs are trembling already, your body taut with pressure, pleasure building fast and hot in your belly.

“God, you feel so good around my fingers,” he groans, forehead pressing to yours, breath ragged. “So fucking tight. Bet you’ll feel even better around my cock.”

You whimper at the thought, hips rocking against his hand, chasing every sensation he gives you.

Then he pulls back slightly, eyes locked on yours. “Take it off.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

“The dress,” he says, licking his lips. “Take it off. Want to see you.”

You nod, breath catching in your throat as his fingers slip from you. He lets you down gently, your legs trembling as they meet the floor again. His hands never leave you—trailing down your arms, steadying you, worshipping every inch.

You keep your eyes on his as you reach for the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly. He watches, transfixed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as inch after inch of skin is revealed.

When the dress clears your head and hits the floor, you stand before him in nothing but your bra and panties—both already crooked from his earlier teasing. You should feel shy, exposed. But under his gaze, you feel powerful.

He breathes out like he’s been holding it in for hours. “Jesus, baby…”

Your hands go to the clasp of your bra, but he steps in, catching your wrists.

“Let me.”

He unhooks it with a practiced flick and lets it slide from your shoulders, baring you completely to him. His hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, watching the way you arch into his touch.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “So fucking perfect.”

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing his stomach as you pull it up and off. His chest is flushed, tattooed, still glistening faintly with sweat from the show. Your hands smooth over the planes of it, slow and deliberate.

Then you drop to your knees.

His breath hitches, but you only reach for his jeans—unfastening them, dragging them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and aching, and you can’t help the way your mouth waters at the sight of it. Thick. Flushed. Dripping at the tip.

You glance up at him, and his jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark and locked on you.

“Later,” he mutters, pulling you back up to your feet, already guiding you toward the couch. “I need to be inside you.”

You let him lead you, knees hitting the cushions as he drops behind you, settling back against the sofa and pulling you into his lap. His cock presses against your thigh, hot and heavy.

You reach between you, guiding him to your entrance, and the moment his tip pushes in—thick and aching—you both moan like it’s the first breath after surfacing from underwater.

He grips your waist, fingertips digging in as you sink down, slow and deliberate, inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside you. The stretch burns just right, and the way he fills you makes your whole body tremble.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, head falling back against the couch. “So tight. So wet. You feel—god, you feel like heaven.”

You plant your hands on his chest, roll your hips once, slowly. He twitches inside you, eyes flying open to watch your every move.

You start to ride him properly then, lifting and dropping your hips, letting the motion grow faster, harder. He meets you thrust for thrust, fucking up into you with just as much heat, just as much need, the slap of skin on skin building between your bodies.

“You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?” he pants, hands moving from your waist to your ass, gripping, guiding. “Wanted me to fuck you like this. You knew exactly what you were doing in that little dress.”

You whimper and throw your head back, grinding down onto him as deep as he’ll go. “I knew.”

He groans like you’ve ruined him.

Your hands slide into his hair, finally giving in to the temptation that’s been driving you mad for days. It’s soft and wild beneath your fingers, curls slipping through as you tug, hard, forcing his head back.

His mouth drops open. He swears.

“Do that again,” he breathes.

So you do—twisting your fingers tighter, dragging a moan from his throat as you ride him faster, messier now. Your breasts bounce with every movement, his hands never leaving you—touching, squeezing, worshipping.

“Look at you,” he rasps, bucking up into you harder. “Taking me so fucking good. Like you were made for me.”

You crash your lips to his, teeth and tongue and heat, and he groans into your mouth, one hand slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit.

“I’m close,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to breathe.

His eyes are wild now, hungry. “Then come. Want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

His words send you tumbling.

Your hips jerk, thighs trembling as the orgasm rips through you—hot and fast, stealing your breath as you clench tight around him. A strangled moan escapes your lips, head falling forward, forehead pressed to his.

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice a wrecked whisper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, you feel—”

He cuts off with a gasp as your walls flutter around him, milking him, dragging him right to the edge.

His grip on your hips tightens, almost desperate, and he forces out, “Can I—fuck—can I come inside you?”

You lift your head, eyes dazed but clear, meeting his.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, I’m on birth control—please.”

That’s all it takes.

He moans your name like a prayer and slams up into you, deep and hard, once, twice—and then he’s spilling inside you with a low, guttural sound, fingers bruising your hips as he holds you down, burying himself as far as he can go.

You feel every pulse of it, every hot wave as he fills you, your body already aching and slick with the proof of it.

For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moves.

You’re still pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. The thud of his heart pounds beneath your palm, matching the rush still echoing in your ears. He’s still buried inside you, the heat of him thick and warm, your bodies locked together, trembling in the aftermath.

But eventually, your thighs start to ache and your body gives a little shiver.

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky but content, “I should… probably move.”

“Slow,” he murmurs, nodding. “Easy.”

You lift your hips gently, carefully easing off him with a soft gasp as his length slips free. He holds you steady, fingers tightening for a second as he watches the way your body clenches from the loss. You feel the mess of it between your thighs, sticky and warm—but all you care about is the way his hands settle back on your waist, grounding you.

You shift to straddle his lap more comfortably, your chest still against his, legs trembling slightly. One of his hands rubs slow circles into the small of your back, and the other tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

And then your fingers are in his hair again.

You’ve been dying to do this—really do this. Not just tug at it in the heat of the moment, but run your fingers through the soft curls, comb them back from his forehead, memorize the way they coil between your fingers.

He hums, eyes fluttering shut as he melts beneath your touch.

“You really like my hair, huh?” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek as he leans into your hand.

You smile, lazily dragging your fingers through another curl. “I think I’m obsessed with it, actually.”

He laughs, breathless and warm. “Dangerous thing to admit when you’re sitting in my lap.”

You smirk. “You’re the one who begged to come inside me.”

He groans, tossing his head back dramatically. “And I have zero regrets.”

You lean forward, brushing your lips to his jaw. “Good.”

He wraps his arms around you again, holding you tighter, your skin still damp and sticky, but neither of you cares. You could stay here forever—limbs tangled, hearts still racing, your hands playing in his hair like it’s the only thing keeping you steady.

After a beat, he sighs, voice low against your neck. “You alright?”

You nod, still tucked against him. “Better than alright.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then one to your collarbone. “Let me clean you up, yeah?”

You let out a sleepy groan, nuzzling closer. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Same,” he mutters, but he’s already shifting, helping you gently off his lap. “But if your dad catches us like this, I will die.”

You giggle, letting him scoop you up off the couch as he stands. “Guess I’ll let you live, then.”

...

It’s been a few days.

A blur of shows, travel, crew dinners, and secret glances across crowded rooms. A blur of stolen moments. Locked doors. Late nights. His mouth on your skin, your clothes in a pile on the floor, his hands learning every inch of you like he’s making up for lost time.

And now… now it’s one of those nights again.

Harry snuck into your hotel room an hour after the band finished press. He barely got the door closed before he was on you—kiss rough, hands eager, laughter muffled into your neck when you pulled him onto the bed by the front of his hoodie.

Now, your room is dark except for the city lights filtering through the curtains. The air is warm with the smell of skin and sleep and something softer than either of you will say out loud.

He’s lying on his back with his head in your lap, one arm flung lazily across your thigh, curls spilling over your bare legs as you card your fingers through them again and again. His eyes are closed, lips parted, a tiny satisfied smile on his face like you’ve lulled him into the safest place on earth.

Your fingers pause for a second, tangled in the curls behind his ear.

He notices.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles, voice gravelly from sleep and sex. “That’s cheating.”

You laugh softly. “Sorry.”

You resume the soft strokes, but your heart's hammering now, nerves coiling under your ribs.

He sighs again, content. So damn content.

You bite your lip. Then, quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

His lashes flutter open. He doesn’t lift his head, just looks up at you with those soft green eyes. “Course you can.”

You hesitate, thumb sweeping slowly across his temple. “This thing between us…”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

You exhale. “Is it just sex? Like, a friends with benefits thing? Or is it…”

You trail off, not sure how much to say. Not sure what you’ll do if he says it’s nothing. That you’re nothing.

He’s quiet for a second.

Then he shifts, lifting his head from your lap so he can sit up beside you, facing you properly. The movement is slow, almost cautious. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw.

His voice is quiet. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex like that and not felt something.”

Your breath catches.

He leans in, eyes searching yours. “I sneak into your room at night because I can’t sleep unless I’m near you. You drive me insane in the best way. I want you—every version of you. And if you’ll let me… I want more than just this.”

You blink, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of the warmth blooming in your chest.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Good. Because I… I want that too.”

His whole face softens.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his nose against yours.

“Yeah.”

He kisses you then—slow and tender, mouths brushing like neither of you wants it to end. When you finally pull apart, his forehead rests against yours, breath warm, fingers still curled gently beneath your chin.

“I want this,” he murmurs again, like a vow. “But I know what comes with it.”

You nod slowly, your hands sliding down to rest over his. “My dad would kill you.”

That gets a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “He’d kill me slow.”

“And the boys…” you sigh, pulling back enough to see his face. “They’d tease you mercilessly. Or worse—worry it’s gonna mess with the band.”

“And management?” he adds, voice low now. “They’d have a meltdown. Headlines, speculation… you know how fast things spread.”

You nod again, the weight of it all sinking in. “So… we keep it quiet. For now.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, his expression unreadable for a beat.

“Can you live with that?” he asks softly. “Sneaking around? Pretending like you’re not mine when all I want is to show everyone?”

Your heart stumbles.

“I can,” you say. “If it means I am yours. Even if it’s just for us.”

His jaw tenses, and you can tell he’s battling every instinct to pull you in and say screw it. But he doesn’t. Instead, he exhales slowly, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he never wants to let go.

“You are,” he whispers into your hair. “You’re mine.”

You press your face into the curve of his neck, breathing him in, the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest.

“And you’re mine,” you murmur.

He kisses the top of your head and holds you tighter. “Then they don’t have to know. Not yet. Not until we’re ready.”

You nod, curling closer.

It’s dangerous. It’s reckless. It’s complicated.

But it’s real.

And for now, that’s enough.

...

It’s been three days since that night in your hotel room.

Three days of stolen glances and secret smiles. Of brushing past him in narrow hallways, pretending not to feel the burn of his hand on the small of your back. Three days of aching.

And today?

Today has dragged.

Everything feels too loud, too long, too slow. Every call sheet is wrong, every email never-ending. And Harry… Harry’s been a menace.

It’s like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

The way he leans back in his chair during interviews, legs spread like he owns the world. The way he tucks his hair behind his ear, slow and deliberate, curls bouncing around his face like he’s in a shampoo commercial. The way he chews on his thumb while looking down at his lyric notes—lips pink and plush and perfect.

You’ve been pretending to focus all afternoon, clipboard in hand, chewing your pen cap like it’ll distract you from the very real, very filthy thoughts in your head.

But nothing helps.

Not when you keep imagining those curls in your fists.

Not when you keep remembering what his voice sounds like between your thighs.

By the time the boys finish rehearsals, you’re restless. Wound so tight you might snap if he so much as breathes in your direction.

And of course—he finds you the second he’s free.

You’re tucked away in a quiet dressing room going over the revised schedule when the door shuts behind you with a click. You look up—and there he is.

Sweaty. Smirking. Hair a mess.

Fucking beautiful.

He says nothing at first. Just watches you.

You swallow. “We don’t have long.”

“I don’t need long,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I just need you.”

Your breath catches.

He closes the distance in three strides, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. His lips graze your ear.

“You’ve been looking at me like you want to eat me alive,” he whispers.

“I do,” you breathe. “But I was trying to be professional.”

He pulls back enough to meet your eyes, curls falling loose around his face, his pupils already blown.

“Fuck professionalism.”

Then his mouth is on yours.

Hot. Urgent. Desperate.

His hands slide down your back, gripping your ass, lifting you onto the counter behind you. Your legs spread without hesitation, heels hooking behind his thighs to keep him close.

You kiss him like you’ve been starving, like you need this to breathe. Your hands go straight to his hair, finally tugging like you’ve wanted to all day—hard and greedy, curling your fingers into the roots and pulling just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

“God,” he gasps, grinding into you. “You love my hair.”

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, dragging your nails lightly along his scalp just to feel him shiver. “Wanna pull it while you’re buried between my legs.”

His head drops to your shoulder with a growl. “Say that again and I’m dropping to my knees right now.”

You smirk, breathless, tugging again. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He growls low in his throat, and in one fluid movement, his hands are on your jacket, shoving it down your arms. His mouth never leaves yours for long, just broken kisses between quick movements—your fingers fisting his shirt, tugging it up over his head, revealing warm skin, inked muscle, and the kind of body that makes you ache.

“You first,” he murmurs, dragging the hem of your dress up, up, up—until you lift your arms and he peels it off in one smooth pull.

You’re left in your bra and underwear, flushed and already wet, and he looks at you like he wants to ruin you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes.

Then he drops to his knees.

He kisses the inside of your knee first. Then the other. His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs slowly—like he wants to savor the reveal. He slides them off your ankles, discarding them somewhere behind him, and then his hands are on your thighs, spreading you open wide as he settles between them.

You shudder at the first brush of his breath against your core.

He groans, low and rough. “You’re already dripping.”

You can only nod, fingers curling around the edge of the counter behind you.

And then his mouth is on you.

He licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center, groaning again like he’s tasting heaven. His tongue flicks your clit, light at first, teasing, circling, then pressing firm and hot as he sucks you into his mouth. Your hips jolt.

“Fuck—Harry—”

Your hands find his hair without thinking, sinking into the curls, tugging hard.

He moans against you.

The sound vibrates through you and only makes you tug again, a little rougher this time, wrapping your fingers tighter. He loves it—you can feel it in the way he groans, in the way his tongue moves faster, deeper, like every pull of his hair spurs him on.

Like he’s addicted to it.

He eats you like a man starved—messy, unrelenting, burying his face between your thighs with no care for control. His hands slide under your ass, holding you steady as he works you over with his mouth, dragging his tongue through every part of you until you’re panting, writhing, begging.

You pull hard on his hair again, and he groans louder, grinding his tongue against your clit in tight circles.

“You like that?” you gasp, tugging again.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his mouth shiny, lips swollen. “Fuck yes.”

Then he dives back in.

You cry out, one hand braced on the mirror behind you, the other still tangled in his hair, pulling as he flicks his tongue faster, harder—relentless. Your thighs start to shake.

“Harry—I’m gonna—”

He moans like he’s proud, sucking your clit hard as two fingers slip inside you, curling just right.

That’s all it takes.

You fall apart with a choked gasp, hips jerking, thighs trembling, his name spilling from your lips over and over as you come undone against his mouth. He holds you through every second of it, tongue dragging through your slick, licking up everything he can get, like he’s not letting a single drop go to waste.

And still—still—your hands are in his hair, tugging without rhythm now, desperate and delirious. And still, he groans for it. Like he wants to be wrecked by you.

You don’t know how long it takes before you finally collapse back against the mirror, thighs twitching, chest heaving, completely undone.

And he’s still kneeling, lips swollen, eyes dark, grinning like he just won something.

Which—fuck—he did.

Your breathing’s still uneven, thighs trembling from the aftershocks, but when Harry finally rises from between your legs, his lips glossy and jaw tight, you catch the fire in his eyes.

He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, tongue dragging across his bottom lip like he’s savoring every drop of you.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he breathes, almost reverent.

You don’t respond.

You act.

Your hands slip up under the hem of his shirt, palms flat against his flushed, tattooed skin. He hisses softly at the contact, your touch gentle compared to the wreckage he just made of you. You push the shirt up slow, watching every muscle in his stomach tighten under your hands, until you finally tug it over his head and drop it to the floor.

“Your turn,” you murmur, gaze dropping to the waistband of his jeans.

His breath catches. “Yeah?”

You nod, backing him up until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the chair in the corner. He sits without resistance, legs spread, eyes on you like you’re a fantasy come to life.

And then, slowly—purposefully—you sink to your knees.

Harry’s mouth parts, chest rising sharply.

Your hands find his belt, unfastening it with infuriating calm. He lifts his hips just enough to help as you drag his jeans down his legs, then his boxers, releasing his cock—already flushed and heavy, the tip glistening. He’s hard again, impossibly so, despite what he just gave you, and the sight of it makes your mouth water.

You glance up at him through your lashes as your fingers wrap around the base. “So responsive.”

He laughs, but it’s breathless, strained. “Sweetheart, you exist and I’m hard.”

You hum, giving him one slow stroke. “Poor thing.”

And then you lean in.

You start soft—just a kiss to the head. Then another, lower, your tongue flicking the underside as you stroke him with a lazy rhythm.

Harry’s head falls back against the chair, his fingers already threading through your hair. But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t guide.

He lets you have him.

You lick a stripe up the side of his cock, kitten-licking the head again before finally taking him into your mouth—inch by inch, dragging your tongue along the underside, eyes still locked on his.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, hips twitching. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You hum around him, sinking down deeper, and the sound makes him shudder.

“Jesus,” he gasps, breath catching. His hand flexes in your hair again, the other gripping the armrest like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. “You feel—fuck, you feel so good.”

You set a steady rhythm—slow at first, teasing, taking him deep before pulling back and dragging your tongue over the head. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking in sync with every movement of your mouth, your spit slicking him up messily, perfectly.

He’s panting now, mouth slack, eyes barely open as he watches you.

“You’re unreal,” he whispers, the words broken by a low moan. “You’re so fucking good to me.”

Your fingers dig into his thigh as you pick up the pace—taking him deeper, faster, letting his cock glide over your tongue until your lips meet your fist and your jaw aches, but god, you don’t stop.

He’s close. You can feel it in the way his hips twitch, the way his thighs tense under your hands.

“Baby—” he gasps, voice cracking. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna come.”

You don’t stop.

You don’t want to stop.

You look up at him, eyes dark, lips stretched around him, and he breaks—with a strangled moan and a sharp jerk of his hips, he spills down your throat, hot and thick and overwhelming.

You swallow every drop, slow and messy, your hand still working him through it, gentle now, coaxing out every last twitch, every last moan.

He slumps back in the chair, completely undone, chest heaving, sweat glistening at his hairline.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, head rolling against the cushion. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You smile, dragging your tongue across your bottom lip, smug and satisfied.

And that’s exactly when—

Knock knock knock.

You freeze.

Harry’s eyes fly open, wide and panicked.

“Y/N?” It’s Liam’s voice. Too casual. Too close.

You scramble upright, nearly tripping over your own knees as you snatch Harry’s shirt off the floor and throw it at him with a whisper-hiss: “Get dressed!”

He’s laughing silently, still boneless in the chair, but he yanks the shirt on while fumbling for his jeans.

You swipe a hand across your mouth, grab your dress and jacket, running a hand through your hair as the door opens.

Liam steps in, mid-sentence. “Paul’s looking for you—what the f—?”

He stops dead.

The silence is instant.

Your dress is halfway over your hips. Harry’s shirt is inside out and only buttoned halfway, his belt dangling undone, hair a mess, lips still swollen.

And Liam sees all of it.

His eyes bounce between you, wide with shock, disbelief, and dawning horror.

“Liam,” you start, breathless. “I—this isn’t—”

“You’re kidding me,” he says, stepping back like he walked into a crime scene. “You’re—oh my god.”

“Mate, just—” Harry stands quickly, trying to fix his belt, but his voice is too calm. Too Harry. “Can we talk about this like adults?”

“Adults don’t sneak around like horny teenagers in dressing rooms!” Liam snaps. “Are you serious right now?”

You wince, dragging your dress down properly. “Please don’t yell.”

“I’m not yelling,” Liam says—loudly—his jaw clenched, voice trembling more from sheer rage than volume. “I’m processing. I walked in and saw my bandmate half-naked and Paul’s daughter with her dress around her waist. What exactly am I supposed to do with that?!”

Harry sighs, buttoning his shirt correctly now. “Liam—”

“No. No, you don’t get to play this calm, charming bullshit right now,” Liam snaps, pointing at him. “That’s Paul’s daughter. Paul. The man who literally pays our salaries and trusts us not to fuck around.”

Harry holds his hands up. “I’m not—this isn’t just fucking around, alright?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Liam bites. Then he turns on you, betrayal flashing across his face. “And you. You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“I am,” you say quickly, stepping forward, jacket clutched to your chest. “Liam, please, I know how it looks, but we didn’t plan for it to happen like this. It’s not a joke. I swear.”

He stares at you, eyes searching. “Are you together?”

You hesitate—then nod. “We’re figuring it out. But yes.”

He makes a strangled sound and looks like he’s about to launch into another rant, so you grab his arm.

“Please don’t say anything. Please. Just not yet.”

His eyes widen. “You want me to lie to your dad?”

“I want you to give me a chance to tell him myself. When I’m ready.”

Liam looks like he might explode. “Y/N—”

“Liam, come on,” Harry says quietly. “You’ve known me forever. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t real.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Liam snaps. “Because if it is real, then it’s even worse. You don’t think Paul’s gonna lose it when he finds out one of us is secretly dating his daughter?”

You flinch, but don’t let go of Liam’s arm. “Please. I’m not asking you to lie forever. Just… let me handle it.”

Liam stares at you for a long, heavy moment.

Then, finally, he exhales through his nose and drags a hand down his face. “You have one week. One. Then I’m telling him.”

You nod instantly. “Okay. Thank you.”

He looks between the two of you again, still fuming. “You better hope he hears it from you first.”

Then he storms out, the door slamming behind him.

Silence settles again. You exhale shakily, then glance at Harry.

“Still think it could’ve gone worse?”

Harry raises a brow. “Yeah. He could’ve punched me.”

You groan. “Give it time.”

He walks over and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You okay?”

“Nope.”

“You were amazing,” he murmurs. “Even if he hates me now.”

You sigh, leaning into him. “I don’t think he hates you.”

There’s a pause.

Then you add, “Yet.”

You and Harry manage to make yourselves look somewhat presentable before slipping out of the dressing room separately.

Ten minutes later, you’re in the green room, clipboard in hand, pretending you’re not still shaking from what just happened—and from the fact that Liam hasn’t looked at either of you once.

He’s seated on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees, jaw tight, staring at the floor like it’s personally offended him.

The other boys filter in casually—Louis first, sipping from a water bottle, followed by Niall and Zayn mid-conversation.

Louis’s eyes skim the room once before landing on you. Then Harry.

Then Liam.

Then back to you.

And his brow lifts. “What’s with this vibe?”

Niall looks up. “Yeah. Did something happen? Liam looks like he’s about to start throwing furniture.”

“I’m fine,” Liam says tightly, not moving.

“You’re not,” Louis says slowly, eyeing him. “You look like someone slept with your sister or something.”

There’s a beat.

Harry coughs.

You freeze.

Zayn, who’s been leaning against the wall, straightens. “...No.”

Louis’s eyes widen. “No.”

Niall’s head snaps between all three of you like he’s trying to catch up mid-film. “Wait, what—?”

Then he squints.

At Harry.

Then at you.

And you know it’s obvious.

You’re both freshly flushed. Your hair’s a mess. Harry’s shirt is still on inside out, and there’s a faint pink flush crawling up the side of his neck, dangerously close to a hickey. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he walked in.

And you?

You haven’t made eye contact with a single person.

Louis gasps. “Shut. Up.”

Zayn groans. “Unreal. Absolutely fucking unreal.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait—are you two actually—?”

Louis just cackles, pointing at Harry like he’s won a game show. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands.

Zayn shakes his head slowly, arms crossed. “Wow. And here I thought the sexual tension was just for sport.”

“I knew something was going on,” Louis continues, grinning like it’s Christmas morning. “You think I haven’t heard the noises coming from Harry’s room the past few nights? I thought he was just really, really into that meditation playlist.”

Harry snorts. “Definitely wasn’t meditating.”

“Harry!” you hiss, smacking his arm.

“What?” he says, entirely unrepentant. “Just saying, I was in a very mindful headspace.”

Liam lets out a strangled noise that sounds part scream, part groan. “Oh my god. I’m going to throw up.”

Niall, still catching up, squints at you. “Wait. So this is real? Not just a one-time thing?”

You glance at Harry, then nod. “It’s… real.”

Louis whistles, low and dramatic. “Well, congratulations, Styles. You’re a dead man walking.”

Zayn nods. “Start writing your eulogy now. And maybe pick out a nice coffin.”

Harry just smiles wider, all teeth and smug satisfaction. “Totally worth it.”

Liam shoots him a glare sharp enough to kill a weaker man. “You are not going to survive this tour. You understand that, right? The second Paul finds out—”

“He won’t,” you say quickly. “Not yet. Liam’s giving us a week.”

“Which is incredibly generous,” Liam mutters.

Louis claps his hands. “Right, so we’ve got six days, twenty-three hours before Paul goes full wrath-of-God on Harry.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Liam mutters, standing. “Because once Paul finds out, your fun is going to be at the bottom of the ocean.”

He storms out again, grumbling under his breath about children and poor life choices.

The door slams behind him.

Silence lingers for a beat—then Louis lets out a long whistle. “Yikes.”

Niall blinks. “So. Do we… do we comfort him? Or do we just let him stew?”

Zayn shrugs. “Man needs a minute.”

You exhale and sink down onto the nearest couch cushion, pressing your clipboard to your chest. “That could’ve gone worse.”

Harry sits beside you, completely unbothered, arm slung across the back of the couch. “Could’ve gone better.”

Louis snorts. “Could’ve gone nuclear.”

Niall points at you. “You alright?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect to get caught mid-scandal.”

“Mid-oral scandal,” Louis corrects with a grin. “Let’s call it what it was.”

Harry snorts, reaching for your hand. “We’ll be more careful.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get another chance,” Zayn says dryly, arching a brow.

Harry winks. “Oh, I will.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush anyway.

Niall grins. “God, you two are so obvious now. How did we not catch this earlier?”

“Because I’m good at lying,” you mutter, half into your clipboard.

“And I’m just incredibly charming,” Harry adds helpfully, squeezing your hand.

Louis fake-gags. “Ugh. Disgusting. Someone tell Paul now just to get it over with.”

“Do not joke about that,” you say, pointing at him. “I’m already imagining the heart attack. Do you want to be responsible for giving my father a coronary?”

Louis raises both hands in surrender. “Nope. I like Paul. I’d just prefer not to be within five miles of Harry when he finds out.”

Zayn pushes off the wall with a sigh. “Well, we’ve got a week to brace for impact.”

“And hide anything sharp,” Niall adds under his breath.

The others start filtering out of the room, still murmuring and laughing among themselves, leaving just you and Harry on the couch.

He watches you for a moment, eyes soft now, playful edge melting into something quieter.

“You really okay?” he asks again, gentler this time.

You lean into his side, bumping your shoulder into his. “Yeah. As long as we make it out of this alive.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We will. I’ve survived screaming fans, Simon Cowell, and Louis’s cooking. I can handle your dad.”

You laugh. “You’re so full of shit.”

Harry grins. “Maybe. But you’re still into me.”

You look up at him, brows lifted. “What gave it away?”

“The blowjob probably.”

You groan, smacking his chest with your clipboard. “You are the worst.”

“Still totally worth it,” he says, tugging you closer.

You sigh, letting yourself relax for a moment in the quiet.

And for now, at least—he’s right. Totally worth it.

...

The next morning starts deceptively normal.

Room service trays cover the table. Coffee cups, half-eaten toast, and little pots of jam are scattered across the surface like breakfast exploded and no one cleaned up. Louis is reading the headlines aloud in a dramatic voice, Niall is already on his second croissant, and Liam is definitely pretending to focus on emails just so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with you or Harry.

You’re seated beside said menace.

Harry’s in a worn grey t-shirt and sweats, curls still damp from the shower, and he smells like mint and hotel soap and last night. You’re in one of your tour hoodies and bike shorts. Totally innocent. Totally casual.

Except your knee keeps bumping his under the table.

And his pinky keeps brushing yours.

And you are absolutely not thinking about the way he kissed you breathless before you even left your hotel room that morning.

You stab your fork into a piece of fruit. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” he asks, far too innocent, reaching across you to steal a grape off your plate. His arm lingers longer than necessary, brushing your chest as he leans back. “Sharing?”

You glance at him. Narrow your eyes.

He grins—dimples and danger wrapped in a face you really shouldn’t trust.

You should know better by now.

But your hand still slides under the table, settling on his thigh.

Too high.

His breath catches, sharp and quiet, as your thumb starts to move in slow, teasing circles. His leg tenses under your touch, and you feel him shift slightly, like he’s trying to decide whether to stay still or drag you into his lap.

You’re just starting to smile when—

“Seriously?” Zayn’s voice cuts through, bone-dry.

Your hand stills instantly. Harry’s doesn’t—his fingers slide higher up your thigh in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your breath hitch.

Zayn doesn’t even look up from his coffee. “Right in front of my toast?”

Niall nearly chokes on his juice, coughing into his sleeve.

Louis leans across the table, grinning like he’s been waiting for this moment all morning. “Told you two you’re not slick.”

Liam groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I regret giving you a week. This is going to be the longest week of my life.”

Harry smirks, entirely unbothered. “I’m a dead man walking. May as well enjoy the time I’ve got left.”

“By giving us a live porn show?” Zayn deadpans.

Louis rolls his eyes but still grins. “There’s an empty storage closet three doors down with your names on it. Soundproof-ish. Go be disgusting in private.”

You glance at Harry.

He raises a brow.

Then you’re both out of your chairs at the same time, barely waiting for permission.

“I swear to God,” Liam mutters behind you, “if I hear anything—”

“We’ll be quiet,” Harry tosses back without looking.

“You’ll try to be quiet,” Zayn mutters.

Louis raises his coffee cup in salute. “Good luck, soldier.”

Harry tugs you down the hall, quick and determined, fingers locked with yours like he might combust if you don’t get there fast enough. He finds the closet Zayn mentioned, swings the door open, and pulls you inside.

The door hasn’t even clicked shut before he’s on you.

Harry kisses you like he’s been waiting hours—days—for this. Like the idea of keeping his hands off you for one more second is physically painful. His mouth crashes into yours, urgent and hungry, his body pinning yours to the wall in the tight space. Your back hits it with a soft thud, breath knocked from your lungs, and it only makes you kiss him harder.

His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers spreading wide across your waist, the heat of his palms branding your skin.

“I’ve wanted to do this since breakfast,” he murmurs, mouth trailing down the side of your jaw, then lower, brushing over the base of your neck. “The way you touched me under the table—fuck, you’re a menace.”

You laugh, breathless and already trembling, your hands tugging his shirt up and over his head. It drops to the floor as your nails scrape lightly down his chest.

“You started it.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, pupils blown, mouth already swollen. “And now I’m going to finish it.”

His lips crash into yours again—messy, open-mouthed, claiming. One of his hands grips the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him while the other curls around your jaw, tilting your head until you’re exactly where he wants you.

You moan into his mouth, fingers finding his hair. You tangle them deep in the curls, tugging hard enough to make him groan, the sound low and wrecked against your lips.

It’s frantic. Desperate. Dizzying.

And then—

Click.

The door swings open.

“Y/N—”

Your whole body jolts as you whip around, heart slamming into your throat.

Your dad stands in the doorway.

Frozen. Eyes wide. Face blank.

He takes in everything in one horrible, split-second glance—your hoodie hanging off one shoulder, Harry shirtless, lips swollen, your fingers still twisted in his hair, both of you flushed and breathless, clearly tangled in something that was about to become much more.

You and Harry spring apart like you’ve been burned.

“Dad—” you start, voice thin, shaky.

“Don’t.” His tone slices through the air like ice.

Your breath catches.

He doesn’t shout. Doesn’t storm in or slam the door again. He just stares. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Like he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I trusted you,” he says quietly, but it lands heavier than any scream would have.

You open your mouth to explain, to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.

Harry takes a cautious step forward, shirt still bunched in one hand. “Paul—”

“No.” Your dad lifts a hand, firm and final. “You don’t get to play the nice guy, Harry. Not when you’ve been sneaking around with my daughter behind my back.”

Harry flinches, the silence after the words hanging too heavy to breathe through.

“It’s not like that,” you manage, voice hoarse. “We weren’t trying to hide it to hurt you—we just—”

“That’s enough.” Paul’s voice is sharp, final. His eyes narrow as he cuts you off. “Get dressed. Meet me back in the suite.”

Then he turns, and the door slams behind him with a force that makes you flinch.

Silence rushes in, thick and suffocating.

You’re still frozen in place, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, heart racing like you’ve just sprinted off a cliff with no idea where the ground is. Your hands tremble at your sides—you don’t even realize you’re still clutching the front of Harry’s sweats until his hand gently wraps around yours.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice low and grounding. “You okay?”

You nod. Then shake your head. “I don’t know.”

He exhales slowly, eyes searching yours as his thumb brushes lightly across your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

You close your eyes for a beat, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Letting it steady you. “I can’t believe it happened like that.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But it’s going to be okay.”

He pulls you into his chest and you go without hesitation, letting yourself melt into him, your face pressed into his bare shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his waist. His skin is still warm. His heart is still racing, too.

“We’ll talk to him,” he says, threading his fingers through your hair, “together. It’ll be okay.”

You nod into his neck, barely a whisper. “Okay.”

But even as you say it, you’re not sure either of you believes it yet.

You let him hold you for a moment longer, burying your face in the curve of his neck, wishing you could stay there just a little longer. But eventually, you pull back, tugging your hoodie into place with trembling fingers.

Harry grabs his shirt from the floor and slips it on, movements slower now. More careful. Like he’s trying not to make things worse by rushing.

Then his hand finds yours. Fingers intertwine, warm and grounding.

You hold on.

Together, you make your way back to the suite.

Paul is pacing, arms crossed, jaw tight. The other four boys are planted across the room, wearing matching expressions of guilt—like they’d all just been caught watching the world’s most awkward car crash.

Louis is the first to notice you. His mouth opens, then shuts again, which might be the most restrained he’s ever been in his life.

Liam is all clenched jaw and twitching fingers, eyes darting between you, Harry, and Paul like he’s waiting for something to explode.

Niall shifts uncomfortably, clearly trying to melt into the arm of the couch.

And Zayn just sighs and mutters, “Told you it was a terrible idea.”

Paul stops pacing the second he sees you. His eyes drop to your joined hands—Harry’s fingers still laced tightly with yours—and something flickers behind his expression.

Disappointment. Hurt. And something that cuts deeper than either: betrayal.

“Sit,” he says simply.

You and Harry obey without a word, sinking onto the couch side by side.

Paul doesn’t sit right away. He stands across from you, arms crossed, jaw tight. The silence stretches painfully long. You feel Harry tense beside you, feel his fingers twitch like he’s preparing to take the hit for both of you.

From the corner of your eye, the other boys try—and fail spectacularly—to look busy.

Louis has a magazine open upside down.

Zayn is suddenly very invested in the stitching on his jeans.

Niall keeps adjusting the lid on his empty water bottle.

Liam stares out the window like he’s praying it’ll crack open and suck him into the void.

Paul ignores them all.

“Alright,” he says, voice calm in that scary, clipped way you know too well. “You’ve got two minutes. Start talking.”

You and Harry glance at each other.

Then Harry clears his throat and says, “It started about a month ago. And it wasn’t planned. It just… happened.”

Paul’s brows raise. “Just like that?”

You speak quickly. “We weren’t trying to lie to you. We just—didn’t know how to tell you.”

“And sneaking around seemed like the better option?” Paul’s eyes cut sharply to Harry. “I trusted you. Not just as one of my artists, but as someone I thought had a little more respect than this.”

Harry straightens slightly. “I do respect you. And I care about her. A lot.”

Paul doesn’t flinch, but his voice drops a note colder. “So much that you risked her job? Your job? The stability of this entire tour?”

No one breathes. You’re fairly certain Louis has stopped blinking.

Harry holds his ground. “I didn’t go into this to mess anything up. And I know it looks bad. But it’s real. I wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t.”

Paul turns to you. “And you?”

Your voice comes out quieter than you expect. “I care about him. This isn’t just some fling.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Paul exhales and sinks into the armchair across from you, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Do you have any idea the position this puts me in?” he mutters. “The press, management, the fans… and I can’t even fire one of you, because that’d mean firing my daughter or blowing up the band.”

Niall makes a tiny choking noise in the background.

Zayn kicks him under the table.

Paul’s head snaps around.

His eyes narrow. “You,” he says, pointing at Niall. “How long have you known?”

Niall freezes mid-sip of his empty water bottle. “Uh…”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Niall sets the bottle down slowly, like it might explode. “A few days. Maybe a week. Kinda hard to miss when Harry started acting like a lovesick golden retriever.”

“Niall,” you hiss.

He shrugs helplessly. “What? It’s true!”

Paul shifts his stare to Zayn, who doesn’t flinch.

“How about you?”

Zayn leans back with a sigh, arms crossed. “Saw it coming a mile away. Just didn’t realize it was this serious until Liam caught them half-dressed.”

Harry lets out a quiet groan beside you.

Paul turns to Louis next. “And you?”

Louis grins, completely unapologetic. “Oh, I’ve definitely heard things through hotel walls. Thin ones. Also, you did say not to scare her off, and I’m just saying—I think she’s brave for sticking around.”

Paul raises a hand to his temple like he’s fighting a migraine.

“And Liam,” he says slowly, “my last hope.”

Liam lifts both hands. “Don’t look at me. I tried to stop them. Gave them a whole week to come clean.”

Paul blinks. “You knew and said nothing?”

“They promised to tell you!” Liam protests. “And I’ve been living in a state of constant anxiety ever since.”

Paul groans and rubs both hands down his face. “Unbelievable. All five of you.”

“We’re very supportive,” Louis offers.

“Quiet,” Paul snaps.

The room falls silent again, thick with unease.

Then Paul turns back to you and Harry, fixing you both with a look that could level a stadium.

“One chance,” he says firmly. “I’m giving you one chance to do this right. If anything happens—if the media catches wind, if fans start speculating, if anything compromises this tour or your safety—you’re done. Both of you. I don’t care how serious this feels or how in love you think you are. You do not come before this job.”

Harry sits up a little straighter, no trace of his usual charm on his face. “We understand.”

Paul’s gaze shifts to you, waiting.

“I understand,” you echo, your voice quiet but certain. “We won’t let it interfere.”

For a long moment, Paul doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you like he’s trying to find the kid he raised in the mess you’ve made.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, jaw still tight. “I need some air.”

And without another word, he turns and walks out the door.

This time, it closes softly.

Not a slam. Just final.

The moment it clicks shut, the breath leaves your lungs in a rush.

You slump back into the couch, pulse still thudding in your ears.

“Well,” Louis says brightly, tossing his magazine over his shoulder. “That was fun.”

Zayn lets out a low whistle. “Never thought I’d see Paul go full dad mode in a band meeting.”

Liam rubs his temples. “Can we all just take one day—one day—off from emotional trauma?”

Niall gives you a small, lopsided smile. “You alright, love?”

You nod slowly, fingers still tangled with Harry’s. “Yeah. I think so.”

Harry squeezes your hand. “We’re okay.”

And despite everything—the fallout, the lecture, the fact that the entire band now knows way too much—you believe him.

You’re okay.