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amazingmsme · 2 years

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Draw Me Something as Pretty as You

AN: This is my second commission and I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out! This is for the wonderful and lovely @ticklishraspberries raspberries who has been such a great friend in this community. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for giving such a great prompt to work with! So glad to finally hop on the steddie fic train. As always, hope you enjoy!

Steve often found himself staring at Eddie, especially at the most inopportune times. He couldn't help it; the man was mesmerizing. His sense of style was always roguishly on point, his hair tousled in such a way that it spilled over his shoulders perfectly. His clunky rings glistened in the sun, accentuating his long, dexterous fingers. And oh how Steve had fantasized about those fingers trailing his body. But lately, Steve couldn't stop thinking about the tattoos scattered across his body like confetti.

They were laying by Steve's pool, grateful that his parents were gone on another business trip. They were basking in the sun after a few hours spent in the pool, only getting out once their hands were sufficiently pruny. Drops of water still prickled their skin, waiting for the hot summer sun to evaporate them. They idly sipped their beers, passing a joint between the two of them as they rambled on about pointless things. Steve didn't care how stupid their conversations would get, because he was stupid in love.

Eddie's long hair was still dripping , and the way it clung to his bare torso had no right being so sexy. He took a long drag, holding it out for Steve to take. When he didn't grab it from him, he glanced over to see what was taking him so long.

He looked over to see Steve with his eyes locked on him, mouth slightly agape. The sight was enough to make Eddie burst into giggles, releasing the smoke that had been trapped in his lungs.

He blinked himself out of it, taking the offered joint. "Hey man, what's so funny?" he asked, feeling as though he was left out of some great joke. He brought the tip to his lips, inhaling the spicy sweet smoke as he waited for an answer.

Eddie's giggles trailed off into a sigh. "You are, Harrington." Steve sputtered, which morphed into a cough as the smoke billowed out of his mouth.

"I wasn't even doing anything!" he protested, embarrassment creeping up inside his chest. Eddie sat up on the lounger to face him.

"Oh but you were. You were gawking at me." Steve's embarrassment only grew.

"I-I was not!" he defended weakly, knowing that he totally was.

"It's okay, it's actually kind of cute. But a picture'll last you longer. Oh, and next time, close your mouth dude. You'll swallow a fly like that," he teased, all dimples and dazzling smile. Steve's stomach did a flip and he looked away.

"Shut up. I was admiring your tattoos." It wasn't exactly a lie. Steve had found himself rather fixated on all of the ink adorning his body. Eddie couldn't stop the wide grin from spreading across his face. All sly and a little bit lopsided, teasing and a little shy all at once.

He circled around the spider tattoo near his neck with a single finger. "Why? You jealous or somethin'?" he teased, enjoying the way Steve could no longer meet his eyes. "'Cause I can get you in touch with my guy," he offered, taking the joint from Steve. He let the rolled cigarette dangle between his lips as he spoke. Steve swallowed thickly.

"No I-I'm good. I don't even know what I'd want. They look better on you anyways," he said, keeping his gaze on the ice blue water lapping at the edges of the pool. When he looked back up, Eddie was sitting on the edge of his lounger, leaning a little too far into his personal space. Steve jumped back in surprise, drawing forth a rumbling chuckle from Eddie's throat.

"Everyone looks good in ink babe. But I concur, I wear it well," he bragged, admiring the bats dotting his forearm. Eddie took another hit, blowing the smoke out slowly, directly in Steve's face. Despite the hot summer air, a chill ran down his spine. Eddie's face was so close to his. Steve was about to lean in and close the distance when Eddie continued speaking.

"Yeah I'm actually thinking of getting another one. Riiiight here," he slapped the center of his stomach. Steve was absolutely entranced by the way his hand rubbed over the skin before sliding off to the side. When Eddie caught him staring once more, he burst into giggles, hiding his smile behind a hand.

"You're ogling me again. Am I really that enticing?"

Steve blushed, muttering under his breath, "Maybe just a little."

Eddie tilted his head back, a loud, joyous laugh escaping his lips.

"What're you planning to get there?" he asked in hopes of changing the subject. It seemed to work when Eddie handed him the joint, humming in thought.

"Probably something meaningful. All my other ones, I just got 'cause they looked cool. I want this one to be different."

"You really love your guitar right? That'd be pretty meaningful," Steve suggested. Eddie turned to face him, and looked at him as if he gifted him the world.

"She's my lifeline," he said, holding a hand over his heart. Steve's lips quirked into a proud smirk. "That would be perfect. Fuck dude, thank you."

Steve grinned at the ground, grabbing his beer. When he took a swig, he was smiling so much that his lips couldn't seal around the opening, and it dribbled down his chin. Eddie continued to ramble.

"I'm thinking she'd look great in like, a stained glass style, you know? Real biblical shit."

Steve's mouth worked faster than his brain, and before he knew what was happening- "Y-you want me to uh, sketch- sketch it out?" he managed to stutter.

Eddie cocked his head, perplexed yet clearly intrigued. "Oh? I wasn't aware you could draw. Have you been holding out on me Harrington?"

"I-I mean, I'm no Picasso but I took art in high school. It was an easy elective, and the teacher actually liked me, so like, I think I'm decent." He had always been shy when it came to sharing his artistic "talents," something Mrs. Shaffer had tried to break. But Steve liked Eddie. More importantly, he trusted Eddie. And he wanted to do something nice for him, and maybe even impress the metalhead.

"Well shit! Let me see what you can do!" he encouraged as Steve stood up to look for markers in the house. When he walked past him, he couldn't help but slap his ass in the way to the door. Steve let out an adorable yelp, arching away as his pace quickened. He was giggling when he turned around to look at Eddie. He smirked, forming his hand in a claw and growled. He relished in the way it made Steve turn bright pink.

Steve played it cool until he shut the door behind him. Then he was scrambling, searching his house top to bottom for decent art supplies, emerging with a large ziploc baggie full of markers and pens of every color. He opened the sliding glass door that lead to the pool, peaking his head out. When Eddie turned to look at him, he flashed a wide grin, shaking the bag of markers as he stepped the rest of the way outside.

"The tattoo shop is ready and open for business!" he proclaimed, sitting next to Eddie on the lounger. Eddie cocked his head with an amused grin, studying the art supplies.

"But you forgot the paper."

Steve rolled his eyes and waved him off. "Paper's for chumps. Tattoos go on the skin, right? So it makes sense to sketch it out on you." And I want nothing more than to touch you all over, he didn't add. "And you know, save the trees and shit." Right now, Steve didn't give a crap about those trees. He just needed a half baked excuse that wouldn't make him look suspicious.

Eddie eyed him up and down with a teasing, lopsided smirk. "Suuuure that's the only reason," he drawled. He shook his head in amusement, smacking his thighs in unison. "Well let's get to it. Unless you're all talk, big boy." He chuckled to himself as he leaned back on the lounger.

Steve waited for him to get comfortable before straddling his waist. He subconsciously bit his lip as he studied the expanse of Eddie's naked torso. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his still damp hair.

He rested his hand on his chin, fingers hiding the growing smirk on his face. "So uh, h-how big do you want it to be?" he asked, stuttering over his words. What could he say, it was an awkward question. And no matter how he worded it, he knew Eddie would take the innuendo and run with it. As predicted, he snorted in amusement.

"I don't know, you tell me?" he asked, shifting his hips as he stretched his arms above his head, pillowing his head on his hands. Steve swallowed thickly, fiddling with the markers to advert his eyes.

"I was thinking maybe something about this tall and yay big?" he asked, measuring out the dimensions on his stomach with his hands in a soft, almost karate chop manner. Eddie craned his neck to try and gauge how big the tattoo would actually look there.

"Uh yeah, that's pretty good. But don't make it too, I don't know, clunky," he ordered, scrunching up his nose.

Steve placed his hand on his hips sassily, snarking back, "It's not gonna be clunky. Just shut up and stay still." He grabbed a pen and began a rough sketch of the outline of Eddie's guitar. It was a distinct shape with unique points and edges, and Steve liked to think he could draw it from memory. And whatever mistakes he makes with the pen, well, that's what the markers are for.

The point of the pen met his skin and slowly scraped down the lower middle of his chest. He jolted underneath the contact, but Steve didn't seem to notice. The pen wasn't working.

"Hold on, the pen's not working. Weird, it worked in the house. Let me fix it," he said, shaking the pen upside down. He touched the pen tip to his tongue to wet the ink to help it along. To get it working on skin, you usually had to scribble over your palm first, so Steve began scribbling tiny circles on the bottom of his ribs. Eddie jolted underneath him and grabbed his wrist, barely containing a laugh.

"Jeez dude, just get another fucking pen," he scolded, but the wide grin on his face severely diminished the effect.

Steve nodded wordlessly, taken a little off guard. This time, he grabbed a fresh ballpoint pen and scribbled over his own palm to get it working on skin. "Alright, I think this one works," he mumbled, bending down to focus on sketching his soon-to-be masterpiece.

He began by drawing the neck of the guitar, starting just between where his ribcage met. Eddie's breath hitched as the pen drug down his torso. The pen didn't draw the best in long elegant strokes, instead forming an outline by way of messy, sketched lines. It was a rough draft and only the basis of Steve's true vision.

If only Eddie could keep still. Only a few seconds in, and he was twitching underneath every touch. His breath quickened as his chest would rise and fall, his nostrils flaring every once in a while, followed by the odd huff of laughter. When Steve began tracing the odd angles of the guitar, he felt the way Eddie endlessly shifted. At first he thought nothing of it, but the squirming never died down. In fact, he thought it was getting worse. He knit his brows together, looking up to meet Eddie's gaze.

What Steve saw, he almost didn't believe. He was leaning back against the lounger, eyes shining with mirth while he sported the biggest fucking grin he's ever seen. His lips twitched as the tip of the pen started trailing up the other side of his stomach. The gasp that slipped from Eddie's mouth had him on the edge of his seat, eager to hear more. Quiet snickers started slipping out to make their debut. For now however, he would play oblivious and continue his drawing.

When he finished the sketch outline, Eddie tried to sit up to see. Steve covered his eyes with a hand, chuckling as he shoved him back down. Eddie was giggling too, moving Steve's hand away.

"What gives man?"

"Nope, no sneak peaks, 'kay? I want it to be a surprise."

"Cool, I hate surprises," Eddie sassed with an unbelievably wide grin that Steve matched.

"No you don't, dude."

"You're right. I fuckin' love 'em!" He immediately dropped the facade when called out, chuckling softly. Steve had to stop himself from staring, wiping the absolutely smitten look from his face.

"Well then, I hope you love this one." He dug around in the marker bag until he found the one he was after. It was a Sharpie, they all were. Tattoos were permanent, so he used a permanent marker, duh.

He was using a dark purple Sharpie with a thick tip to trace the outline, creating bold borders against the pale skin of Eddie's stomach. Steve definitely heard the way his breath hitched, and saw the way his belly quivered beneath his gentle touch. Steve smirked and took his time, savoring every twitch and huff of laughter that slipped out. He couldn't help but tease him.

"Dude, you're squirming around like a worm on a hook," he teased with a shit eating grin. Eddie growled, covering his face with his hands.

"Shut up, just get ihit ohover with," he whined, using every ounce of willpower he had to stay still.

"You're gonna fuck up my line work, and I want it looking sharp," he playfully scolded. He was trying to trace over the pen sketch with a single, perfectly straight line. Eddie smirked, purposefully jerking his hips to try and mess him up. A stray line went off to the side, causing a giggle to slip out of his mouth. Steve stared in shock at his "ruined" masterpiece, his mouth gaping open.

"Oh great, look what you made me do," Steve lamented, gesturing wildly to the stray line. Eddie craned his neck to have a look and smirked.

"Mm I don't know, you're the one with the marker. Seems like it's your fault to me," he taunted with a shit eating grin. Steve's jaw dropped in shock before scoffing, looking away.

"Shut your trap Munson, now I gotta fix your mistake," he teased, poking right in the center of the guitar drawn on his stomach. Eddie squeaked and jerked up to fold in on himself, locking eyes with Steve.

He looked... far too amused to mean anything good. Eddie gulped when he saw the way he smirked and studied his bare chest.

"You ticklish or somethin'?" Steve asked, trying to hide his cheshire cat grin behind his hand. He was doing a terrible job.

"Pft, no. Me? Ticklish? No way," he lied, but the nervous quiver to his voice begged to differ.

"Okay cool, so you should have no problem staying still the whole time," he said, innocent as ever. Eddie knew he was fucked. He wanted to crawl out of his skin as he felt Steve flutter his fingers along his sides. A shudder shot through his body from the top of his spine all the way down to his toes. He was brought out of his thoughts when Steve spoke once more, "But first let me clean this up."

Eddie watched Steve lick his thumb, the movement downright sinful. He didn't have very long to appreciate the sight, because he began rubbing tight circles over the spot he had messed up on. He immediately burst into a giggle fit, wiggling beneath him in an attempt to get away. "Shihihit dohohon't doho thahahat! Just draw dahamnit!"

Steve chuckled along with him, licking his thumb again before rubbing out the rest of his mistake. There was still a dark smudge, but it would suffice for now. Eddie's laughter died down as he stared up at him with eyes that still sparkled with mirth.

"Eh I'll cover it up later," he said with a wave of his hand. "Now stay still," Steve winked, twirling the pen between his fingers with a flourish. Eddie grinned and flashed him the finger. Steve drew a fat line up his arm in retaliation.

Eddie chuckled and looked at the mark running up his arm. "Wow, your artistic skills are really shining through," he winked. Steve rolled his eyes, thumping his shoulder.

"Shut up man. It's actually starting to come together, if you can just stay still," he teased, going back to his drawing. Eddie's body tensed under the touch, his belly quivering slightly with the effort to hold in his laughter. As he giggled, he tried his hardest to remain still. He wasn't really doing a good job, but Steve appreciated the effort.

He finished up the outline of the guitar before drawing seemingly random lines dividing his drawing into smaller sections. The lines were quicker and would end abruptly before another one crossed its path, leaving Eddie is stitches.

"Whahahat thehe hehehell are you dohohoing?" he giggled, poorly fighting off the urge to swat his hands away. Instead he settled on rocking side to side as he grabbed fistfuls of his hair. Steve chuckled.

"You've seen stained glass, haven't you? It's divided into sections," he explained innocently. Eddie shook his head with a wide smile.

"You're ehevil. You're dohoing thihihis to torture mehe," he sassed. Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep his goofy smile on check.

"Nah, that's just a perk." Eddie was left speechless at those words, but he didn't remain silent. His hands flapped uselessly at his sides, occasionally balling into fists to fight the urge to shove him away. Meanwhile, Steve was lost in space. The way Eddie was writhing beneath him, cackling without a care in the world, made his brain short circuit.

He moved on to the last, but (un)fortunately the lengthiest stage. He grabbed a fistful of markers in varying shades of reds, purples, and pinks, fanning them out on display for Eddie. He was still giggling softly as he inspected the array before him.

"This one first," he said, picking out a blood red marker. Steve put the others away for now, playfully smacking the top of his head with the chosen marker. "You might want to brace yourself," Steve said, adding a condescending wink. Eddie's brows furrowed.

"The hell's that supposed to mehehehean! Hehey wahahait!" he shrieked, immediately bursting into laughter. His voice kept climbing in pitch as rapid giggles bubbled up from his throat. He twisted side to side in a desperate attempt to escape the maddening sensation of Steve coloring on his skin.

He was quickly losing all composure. The way he bucked his hips and wrapped his hair around his face to hide had Steve licking his lips like a predator before a meal. He filled the small stretch of skin with color before moving to another angular shard of the larger picture. The sudden contact in a new location made Eddie jolt with a bout of surprised giggles.

"Steheheheve," he tried to scold, but it came out as more of a whine. Said man popped his head up to look at him, cocking his head innocently. He hummed to indicate he was listening, and Eddie wore an exasperated grin.

"Do you have any idea," he said between pants for breath, "What you're doing to me right now?" He looked up at him expectantly. He wasn't prepared for the impishly proud look on his face. Steve clicked his tongue, taking in every inch of his exposed chest and stomach.

"Yeah, I'm killing two birds with one stone," he said with a shrug, as if it were plain as day. "Obviously." He was so infuriating, Eddie could just slap him. Eddie could just kiss him.

A damp, soft point pressed into his skin, abruptly ejecting him from his thoughts. Tight, maddening circles danced over his skin, drawing forth sweet, hysterical laughter from slightly chapped lips. After he filled enough spaces with that color, he moved on to lighter shades. He colored in some sections close together, but still left large patches of skin yet to be inked. This process continued as Steve colored in the intricate tattoo, slowly but surely. He swapped out colors at random, creating a mosaic that stood out against pale skin.

Eddie's laugh bordered on hysterical, occasionally crossing that line when Steve focused his efforts on the center of his belly. For the time being, he was savoring every unique sound he was able to draw out of the metalhead. Fluttering his fingers against the skin would make him suck in a breath with a quick swear or two. Coloring in circles released shrill giggles and nervous pleading. And hard scribbles with the marker, back and forth, incited desperate thrashing and unrestrained laughter. And Steve was eating up every second of it.

He paused to give Eddie a moment to breathe, which he was grateful for. He squinted up at him, his nose still crinkled from the residual giggles that continued to trickle out. "Yohohou're such ahan ahahass."

"Now is that any way to thank someone who's almost done giving you a free tattoo?" Steve asked smugly, placing his hands on his hips.

"I paid with my suffering," he joked with a grin. "Wait, you said it's almost done?" he asked, trying to sit up to see the drawing covering his torso.

"Ah ah ah, I'm not finished yet," Steve chastised, preventing him from leaning up too far by placing a hand on his shoulder. Eddie tried to keep his rapid heartbeat in check as he was carefully shoved back down onto the lounger. Needless to say he was left speechless, his mouth dry. But that could just be the cottonmouth.

"Just get on with it Harrington," he ordered, barely biting back a smirk. Steve grinned as he squeezed Eddie's hips, just to keep him in check. He barked out a startled laugh, bucking weakly as shrill giggles and snorts peppered out.

"Yeah yeah hold your horses, I'm almost done," he deadpanned, but the wide smile plastered on his face hinted at his true amusement.

True to his word, Steve finished soon after. But completing his masterpiece meant that this would end. He'd have to roll off of Eddie, give him his space as he examines his handiwork. He wouldn't get to hear the endearingly shrill cackles or see the way his nose crinkled or eyes shined with unshed tears. Wouldn't get to see the wide, unabashed grin and hear thinly veiled threats and swears. He wasn't ready to give that up yet.

So he kept it up just a little while longer, coloring over patches that were complete and retracing already bold lines. Eddie grabbed his hair and wrapped it around his blushing face to hide. Steve felt his heart skip a beat at the sight, chuckling as he weakly bucked and twisted his hips.

"You colored thahahat ahalready asshole! Ihihi knohow you dihihid!" he protested through shrieky giggles. He tried to sit up to see the impromptu tattoo but collapsed back onto the lounger in a fit of laughter. Steve had ditched the marker and instead dove in with his hands, squeezing up and down his sides.

"I did, did I? Well, my apologies for being thorough," he teased, unable to help himself as he shot him a wink. "Let me just make sure it's finished drying," he said innocently. Eddie's heart beat against his ribcage as he saw Steve's head dip towards his belly. He gasped, falling into a deep stream of helpless chuckles and getting washed away down stream. Steve blew cool, gentle air over the inked skin, taking note of every single goosebump he left in his wake.

Eddie's chest bounced up and down as his laughter toned down to a simmer. Steve kept poking and drumming his fingers on his rainbow skin, "checking" to see if the marker was "dry." He flinched and barked out a laugh each time until Steve withdrew his hand. He sat at the foot of the plastic recliner, looking at him with a satisfied grin.

"My torture better have been worth it," he smirked, sitting up on his elbows. His eyes sparkled with mirth, cheeks still rosy and smile still firmly in place.

"It is. Why don't you come see for yourself?" Steve offered, holding out a hand for him to take. Eddie hesitated, eyeing the other man with an amused yet skeptical look.

"Alright. I've waited long enough, figure it's about time to see what you churned out," he taunted, grabbing Steve's hand to hoist himself up. He inspected himself, or as much as he could from this angle, and gave an approving nod. "Not bad, Harrington. But the true test is how it looks in a mirror."

"Uh, yes. Of course. The mirror test, everyone knows that," Steve tried to casually go along with it, but it was clear he wasn't sure what he was talking about. It was incredibly endearing. "Right this way."

He lead Eddie through the empty halls of his house quietly until they reached the master bathroom. Eddie walked up to his reflection, not saying a word. Steve's eyes kept flitting away before drifting back nervously.

Eddie studied himself in the mirror, hands roaming over his bare torso. "It's beautiful," he breathed out as if it were one word. And it really was. The guitar's shape was stylized even sharper than it really was, stretching over the expanse of his stomach. The instrument was pieced together with jagged shards of multicolored glass, all surrounded in an angelic yellow glow.

Steve's heart leapt into his throat. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. You made her look like. I don't know, like how I see her," Eddie said, avoiding meeting Steve's eyes in the reflection. He twirled a lock of hair in front of his face to hide his shy grin. "It really means a lot. Even if you did enjoy every second of my torment," he teased despite his own blush. Steve was left gawking as he floundered for a comeback.

"W-well, I- oh come it was hilarious. You would've done the exact same thing," he justified. Eddie's smile morphed into a more dangerous one, his eyebrows shooting up to the middle of his forehead.

"Pretty bold assumption. Not wrong though," he chuckled, shaking his head. He took a step away from the mirror, turning to face Steve.

His lips twitched in an anxious smirk as he took a step back. Eddie closed the distance, grabbing the draw string of his swim trunks to pull him closer.

Steve's whole body went tense as he leaned in to whisper, "So... how 'bout I return the favor?"

#commission #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steveddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things tickle fic #ticklish!eddie #ticklish!eddie munson #tattoo fic #i am also hopping on this bandwagon

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katelynnwrites · 3 years

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pairing: Ona Batlle x f!Reader

warnings: implications of homophobia and parent issues

word count: 2760

summary: your girlfriend is moving to england and therefore so are you

a/n: i feel like this is kind of disconnected but oh well. this fic is named after and slightly based off the song London Boy by Taylor Swift

Home Is Where The Heart Is

‘Baby? I need to tell you something.’ Ona bites her lip nervously, fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

‘Okay?’

Your girlfriend reaches out to take your hand, guiding you over to her bed where you sit down, facing each other.

‘Um I want you, I need you to know that I love you.’ She hesitantly starts, making you rub comforting circles onto her hand. She’s clearly anxious and you hope the gesture is enough to calm her down a little.

It does and she takes in a deep breath before quickly saying, ‘I got an offer from Manchester United and I want to take it.’

‘Okay.’ You nod slowly, still not understanding what the problem is.

‘If you want to break up with me I understand because long distance might not work out and I-’ Ona rambles until you stop her by squeezing her hands.

‘Ona breathe.’ You instruct her and she exhales slowly, doing as you ask.

‘I don’t want to break up with you. I love you, you’re my girlfriend and your career is important to me. You and I both know this move will be good for you. You’ve said it yourself, Manchester United is a brilliant team you’ve always dreamed of playing for. ’

‘But long distance. What if you suddenly decide you don’t like it or you stop loving me?’ Ona lets go of your hand in favour of running her hands through her hair in mild frustration.

She was so worried, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin your relationship. The thought had been on her mind ever since she heard from her agent. It even kept her up at night.

Ona looks up and the words come naturally to you.

‘I’ll move to England with you.’

You’ve never been surer about something before but Ona’s eyes widen in shock.

‘You’re kidding.’ She breathes.

‘I’m not. The details and logistics I have to work out but I could easily apply for a university in Manchester.’ You explain, already running over the possibilities.

‘Think about this. You’re willing to move to England for me. I don’t even know if it’ll work out at United, we both barely speak English mi amor please just think about this.’ She urges even as she silently hopes you were serious.

She needn’t have worried because you were.

Shrugging lightly, you tell her as much, ‘I would love to move to England with you, speaking English will be a challenge but I’ve always wanted to improve on it and to answer your earlier question, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you. The most important question now is do you want to have a roommate?’

‘Yes!’ Ona cups your face, kissing you passionately.

In that moment, she thinks she’s never been happier or more in love.

******

You don’t tell your parents though, not until Ona had signed the contract, the one way plane tickets had been bought, the apartment more or less settled and your enrollment confirmed by the University of Manchester.

It wasn’t that you were afraid to tell them it was more like you knew they would be difficult about it and were putting it off for as long as you could.

The conversation goes exactly how you expect it to.

Ona insisted on coming with you, saying it was the least she could do. She had only met your parents once, very briefly but it was enough for her to realise what kind of people they were.

She knew how you felt about your parents and right before you walked in the door, she kissed you reassuringly.

Standing beside you, she discreetly holds your hand as you explain to your parents, the decision you had made.

The decision they had immediately protested against.

‘I’m leaving in two weeks. It’s already settled.’ You calmly say.

‘This choice of yours is reckless and you’ll come to regret it.’ Your mother insists, glaring at you as your father sighs.

‘Mom you’ve always said you wanted me to improve my English. This gives me the chance to do that.’ You try and reason.

‘I meant by taking more classes not moving to England. Are you even able to take care of yourself? I won’t fly over to fix your messes!’ She heatedly continues.

‘I am an adult. I can take care of myself.’

Your mother scoffs and you sigh.

‘Is your problem with me moving or is it with who I’m moving with?’

‘You say you love her but you’re only nineteen, how do you even know what love is? You’ve only been with her what? A year?’

‘It’s been two years and love? I certainly didn’t learn it from you or dad, I learnt it from Ona. She taught me what love is. I love her mom and I know she loves me too. These two years with her have made me happier than I’ve ever been.’ You fight to keep your voice level and Ona must have sensed it because she squeezes your hand gently.

‘If it helps ma’am, I truly love your daughter.’ Ona tries but that only seems to make your mother angrier.

‘This is a family matter. Stay out of it,’ She snaps, making your girlfriend flinch.

That’s when you decide enough is enough.

‘You don’t get to talk to Ona like that. I’m moving to Manchester. I’m moving to Manchester with my girlfriend and you don’t have to like it. You don’t have to support it either.’ Your words are firm, leaving no room for argument.

Tugging on Ona’s hand, you lead the both of you out of the house you grew up in without a second glance.

******

‘I could get used to this.’ You tease as Ona finishes making breakfast for the both of you.

She blushes but happily reciprocates the small kiss you give her in thanks.

Over the meal, she tells you of her plans for the week and you likewise.

It had been three weeks and the both of you had settled nicely into your shared apartment and the new country. You each had your own room but you haven’t once slept in your own bed, choosing to curl up beside Ona in hers every night.

Not that she had any complaints about that.

You finish and stand up first, giving her another kiss.

‘I’ll pick you up at the training grounds after my classes okay? I love you.’

Ona smiles back, giving you a little wave, ‘Te quiero más.’

******

She introduces you to the team after her debut match.

‘This is my girlfriend.’ She shyly says, grabbing your hand to briefly kiss the back of it.

‘Oh so this is the famous girlfriend?’ A woman with blonde hair teases.

‘Famous?’ You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

‘The whole team knows about you already, Ona never shuts up about you.’ She elaborates, making you grin.

Ona blushes, ‘This is Jackie. She’s really nice.’

You laugh, ‘If she’s messing with you, I like her already.’

More of her teammates come over and Ona wraps her arm around you, introducing you easily.

******

Ona stirs awake, hearing your voice outside the bedroom door. She blinks sleepily, reaching for her phone to check the time. 1.30am.

Making her way to the doorway, she hesitates, listening to the hushed conversation you were having.

‘Mom it’s late. Go to sleep and we’ll continue this tomorrow.’

There’s a beat of silence and you sigh. Ona can picture you leaning against the wall in frustration, the sudden quiet an indication that whatever answer your mother gave, you didn't like it.

She wants to go to you but it’s like her feet won’t move.

‘Mom I already told you I’m not coming back. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask, I’m happy here. I’ve enrolled in the university and I really enjoy my classes.’

Another stretch of silence before you gasp.

‘No I will not break up with Ona. How could you even ask me to do that?

There’s the sound of you putting your phone down and she figures you must be sitting on the counter.

She sighs. She loved having you with her, she really did but was it worth it? Without meaning to, she was causing a rift in your family. You’d never gotten along with them but now it felt like she was the reason for all the arguing.

Still, she quietly walks up to you, touching your back gently and making you jump.

‘Lo siento.’ Ona whispers even as you relax once you realise it’s her.

‘Hey mi amor. What are you doing up?’

‘Should be asking you that but I already know the answer.’

You groan softly as she leans down to loosely rest her arms on your shoulders.

‘How much did you hear?’

Ona sighs, ‘Enough.’

You kiss her palm gently, ‘I’m not changing my mind. I’m staying.’

Ona swallows hard, ‘I love you so so much and I want nothing more than for you to be here with me but I feel like it’s my fault your parents are so unhappy with you. I’m just saying that I’ll understand if you want to move back home. We’ll make long distance work…’

Turning around, you firmly but gently grab her chin to make her look you in the eyes.

‘Ona listen to me. I don’t want to move back to Spain. I don’t care that my parents aren’t happy with me or with the fact that I’m dating you. It’s not your fault that we’re arguing all the time because they’re never satisfied with anything I do. That’s not the point though because you are my home.’

Kissing her lightly, you brush your thumb over her cheekbone before softly adding, ‘Wherever you go, I’ll go too. They say home is where the heart is right? Well I gave you my heart a long time ago.’

Ona sniffles, quickly cupping your face and pulling you into a passionate kiss that conveys everything she was feeling.

Her happiness, her excitement for the life you were building together and most of all her love for you.

******

At first as you didn’t know much English or have any friends in England, you spent a lot of time hanging around the United girls.

You often sat on the stands, doing your homework while Ona trained.

Occasionally, you would look up and the girls would wave at you. Ona would blow kisses and you would send her a wink back.

Some days you were there just to cheer on the girls and your shouts of encouragement never failed to make them laugh.

The training staff were so used to you, even the receptionist would say hello when you walked in.

Eventually as the weeks went by, you made some friends from your classes so you spent time doing your homework with them instead.

They were very helpful, teaching you English as they introduced you to the various cafes and coffee shops found around the city. It was nice to get to know them outside of school and learn more about the country you were now living in.

You still make it a point though, to go by the training grounds at least once a week to say hi to the girls.

******

‘Wake up my love.’ Ona says, in between the feather light kisses she’s pressing onto your face.

You scrunch your nose up, reaching out blindly for another pillow.

Ona laughs, handing you a pillow before she unceremoniously sprawls herself on top of you.

You gasp as she knocks the air out of you, snapping awake immediately.

‘Ona!’

Pushing her off you, you sit up with some difficulty.

Your girlfriend shakes with laughter as she shrugs, ‘I tried waking you up nicely but it didn’t work.’

Raising an eyebrow, you jump on top of her, knocking her flat on her back.

‘Baby-’ Her eyes widen at the mischievous look on your face. She shakes her head but it’s too late, you dig your fingers into her sides making her shriek.

‘Say you’re sorry.’ You tease as she laughs uncontrollably.

Ona tries to get you off her but you don’t relent until she pants, ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’

She has tears streaming down her cheeks as she looks up at you with the biggest smile on her face.

‘Well played.’

******

Ona’s team loves you and she often jokes that they love you more than her. You’re always welcome at team bonding sessions, the team treating you like one of their own.

You attend all their games and on away days, you get sneaked onto the bus so many times that Marc eventually gives up and makes an exception for you.

This extends to Ona’s hotel room as well so the team doesn’t have to sneak you in anymore. Not that they had minded at all.

As Ona’s roommate, Jackie often found it adorable when she woke up to find you and Ona in each other’s arms. The hotel beds were small but neither of you minded because it let you be even closer to each other.

Without the both of you knowing, she often took photos to show the other team members who took to calling the both of you the cutest couple they had ever seen.

******

Humming softly, you unload the dishwasher, putting the plates away neatly. Your music was on shuffle and the song playing put you in a particularly good mood.

Show me a gray sky, a rainy cab ride

Babe, don't threaten me with a good time

They say home is where the heart is

But God, I love the English

You can’t help it, singing along to the lyrics of one of your favourite songs. There’s not many dishes left and you’re on your tiptoes, reaching for one of the higher cupboards when you feel arms wrap around your waist. You jump, your heart stopping for a beat.

‘Oh my god Ona don’t scare me like that!’

Your girlfriend laughs, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear as an apology. She takes the plate from you, easily reaching the cupboard before she traps you against the counter.

Smiling at her, you let her kiss you, her hands skimming under your shirt.

You know I love a London boy

I enjoy nights in Brixton, Shoreditch in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

Ona has the softest of gazes on you.

‘You don’t love a London boy.’

Shaking your head lightly, you gently trace a path from her cheekbone to her jaw.

‘No. I love a girl from Vilassar de Mar.’ You whisper and Ona laughs quietly.

‘And I love you. More than anything.’

She leans in to kiss you again but you’re smiling so hard that you can’t kiss her back.

‘Hey! Stop smiling so I can kiss you properly!’ She whines.

You giggle as she gives up, settling for a tight hug instead.

She’s still in her training clothes and as you relax into her arms, you can’t help but tease, ‘You’re sweaty babe.’

‘Mhm. Had fun at training today though. I’ll tell you about it after showering.’ Ona mumbles into your shoulder.

Kissing her cheek, you slyly ask, ‘Want to tell me about it in the shower? Because I think I need one too.’

Your girlfriend smirks, already pulling you towards the bedroom, ‘I like that idea very much.’

******

You make it through quarantine together and three years later, Ona’s family had pretty much adopted you as their own.

She brought you with her whenever she visited home and on the most recent occasion, her mother had pulled you into the kitchen and told you that you didn’t have to ask her blessing whenever you decided to ask Ona to marry you.

When you had blushed and stammered your thanks, she had kissed you on the forehead saying that maybe you wouldn’t even have to propose but simply say yes because Ona had apparently asked her for advice on rings.

******

Somewhere along the way, you and Ona had adopted a puppy and as you climb onto the bed where Ona is snuggling said dog, she glances at you adoringly.

‘Hi mi amor.’

‘Hey.’ There’s a smile on your face just being with her.

Ona stretches out an arm, ‘Want to join in on the cuddles?’

You mean it with everything in you when your smile widens and you say, ‘There’s nothing I would like more.’

Because home is where the heart is and Ona Batlle has your heart.

Spanish Translations:

mi amor - my love

‘Te quiero más.’ - ‘i love you more.’

lo siento - i’m sorry

Vilassar de Mar - it’s a town in the province of Barcelona, where Ona was born, according to google

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfiction #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader #muwfc imagine #muwfc x reader #katelynnwrites

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15-dogs · 4 years

Text

hugger |n.s.|

pairing: newt scamander x reader

summary: you begin to develop feelings for newt, your employer, and accidentally do the one thing he hates: hugs (super super fluffy! pining, friends to lovers, takes place in between fbawtft and fb:tcog)

warnings: extremely minimal swearing, getting injured (nothing serious!), a niffler giving birth (?)

guide: (Y/N) = your name, italics = flashback

word count: 2.1K

a/n: this was supposed to be a blurb LMAO i rewatched fantastic beasts and unearthed my 8th grade crush on him which gave me this as a product! i hope you like it!!

“Denied again?” you asked Newt. He gave you a curt nod as he paced towards the Kelpie pool.

You frowned; he always seemed to get quieter after he returned from the Ministry. It had been his third attempt to regain his international passport and, of course, his third run in with his brother, Theseus. And you knew how complicated their relationship was. Newt never really talked about Theseus, except for the offhand comments he would make about him.

So far, all you had gathered about the mysterious Scamander was that he was tall, an Auror, and quite the hugger. You nearly burst out laughing when Newt had mentioned that last little fact about his brother as if it were reason enough to dislike him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Scamander, but that just doesn’t seem like something to hate a person over.”

Newt exhaled in quiet laughter as he pet a Mooncalf, grabbing some treats from the bucket he held. He flashed a kind smile at the Mooncalf before turning off and dropping the bucket to the ground, staring you down from across his basement.

“You haven’t met Theseus, then.”

Newt refused to meet your eyes as he joined you in caring for the Leucrotta. You chewed your lip— perhaps you were making a mistake, talking to him so plainly. He was your employer, after all. You weren’t there to help him make nice with his older brother.

Yet, you continued to speak as if you were a personal acquaintance of his. “What I’m trying to say is you’re an incredibly kind, sweet person, Mr. Scamander.”

That got his attention. His head slowly raised to meet yours, and when he saw you were already looking at him, he looked away. But that did not deter you.

“You refer to yourself as these creatures’ mother!” you announced with playful exasperation. That got to him, a soft, harmonic chuckle escaping his lips. “You have such a big heart. I suppose I’m just a little shocked that hugging is the disqualifier.”

Newt’s smile faded as he processed your words. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, thick with emotion. He then shook his head as if it would drive the feelings away, pointing you off towards another creature in need of care.

“Well, what are you going to do?” you prodded, making your way beside him. “Try again?”

“Yes,” he stated with a nonchalant shrug, “that’s exactly what I plan on doing. And I’ll keep at it until I get that ban lifted.”

You snorted. “I can see why you were a Hufflepuff— dedication like no other, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt glanced up at you with a lopsided grin that had your stomach flipping for a moment. The tips of your ears began to heat up and you prayed to Merlin that your hair covered them.

You had known for a while that you had feelings for Newt. It started cultivating inside you with every adoring smile, every impassioned statement, every quiet appraisal. It had soon grown too big to go unnoticed and you knew you were in far too deep.

“Quiet now, quiet now,” Newt whispered to the little Bowtruckle, “mum’s here.”

You were padding down the steps from his apartment, reading the instructions on the back of a potion vile. He had advised you to get it from his medicine cabinet for your headache but you weren’t entirely sure that you picked up the right one.

“Mr. Scamander…” your voice trailed off at the sight of his maternal tendencies.

“I know, I know,” he cooed, “but change can be a good thing. On you hop.” He continued to pet the small and pouty thing before placing it into the makeshift nest he had created, where it was welcomed by the rest of its friends.

That small moment, seemingly insignificant, had caused you to completely fall for Newt. His soft, green eyes fell upon you with a gentle, questioning look at the potion you held. You nodded, answering his silent question without actually telling the truth because, if Newt could be as seemingly perfect as he was day in and day out, you could suffer with a headache for one day.

“Prepare the ointment, please.”

You raised the large container of ointment that you had mixed together in preparation for Newt’s return. “Don’t have to ask me twice, Mr. Scamander.”

He nodded his head towards a desk where you placed the container down.

Newt began to take off his trademark royal blue coat, flinging it onto a desk as he conversed with you about your work. “How has Molly been?”

You eyed the pregnant Niffler which was milling about in its cage. “Quite well, actually. She’s due any day now.”

“And the other Nifflers?”

“Niffler-y, as always,” you joked, earning a smile from the sandy haired man before you.

“Lovely.” Newt finally turned around, examining your state. “You’ll join me, won’t you? Kelpie’s are easier with two people.”

“Right, yes, of course.”

“Brilliant.”

You undid the buttons on your blouse with haste so that you stood in your pants and camisole, pulling your hair from your eyes as you prepared to hop into the pool. It wasn’t like it was the first time you’d done this, but each time had your nerves thrumming with anxieties that something would go wrong.

You spun around as you took a step towards the edge of the pool, standing shoulder to shoulder with Newt. He extended his hand without looking down, taking yours in his perfectly rough ones, your mouth instantly going dry. Newt looked over at you, so incredibly close that your noses nearly brushed against one another. He nodded and so did you, both hopping backwards into the pool.

Your camisole popped up from the sudden force and Newt quickly looked away as you tucked it back in to the best of your ability. As soon as you were done, you splashed some water his way, striking him in the chest. His eyes went wide with amusement as he did the same to you, hitting you square in the face.

A small wave knocked the two of you back under, the Kelpie swimming its way towards you. You and Newt managed to grab a hold of it, barely staying on as it bucked you two up and down.

After about the third time the Kelpie lept from the water, you cemented your grip. You let out a loud whoop as the cold air kissed your wet skin, Newt also cheering beside you. The Kelpie dove deep under the water, preparing to rocket you two up. As it breached the water, Newt sent you a disarming smile that had your hands subconsciously loosening. As the Kelpie snapped back under the water, you were thrown off, your body just narrowly missing the stone columns of the pool and splashing with a loud crack in the water.

“(Y/N)!” Newt cried out. His voice was drowned out by the water and by the fact that the pain from the fall had you slipping in and out of consciousness. It was the last thing you heard before you passed out, deep under the water.

You awoke to smell of a savory broth soup flooding in from the room over. You looked around the familiar space, soon realizing that you were sat on Newt’s couch, a blanket tucked firmly up to your chin. Your cheeks grew warm as you inhaled the scent that was distinctly him, scolding yourself for the childish crush you had developed.

You adjusted yourself, sitting up to see a tray of tinctures on the table beside you with a note that read, “Please take these when you wake! Newt.” You followed his orders, slugging them back with a wince at each unpleasant taste.

But then you heard a strange noise from the basement. It was a mix between a squeak and a whine, concerning enough to pull you from your cozy spot on Newt’s couch. You stood up and peered around the corner, hearing a soft, offkey hum ringing from the kitchen where Newt most likely was cooking his dinner. The sound of his voice warmed your heart and you almost, almost, got up to speak with him but you figured you had caused him enough trouble for the day. So instead, you headed into the basement by yourself.

You gripped the railings on the stairs with immense force, hoping not to fall over. Your body felt sore which you could only attribute to your accident earlier. You stopped at the bottom of the steps, peering around when you were met with a pained cry from the Niffler cage. You ran up to it to see Molly the pregnant Niffler whimpering in pain as another Niffler nudged at her stomach.

“Oh, Merlin,” you muttered, “you’re about to give birth, aren’t you, Molls?”

As if Molly could understand you, she let out a loud squeal.

“Oh, Merlin. Time to put that Hogwarts education to the test, I suppose,” you mumbled to yourself to give yourself the confidence you needed to deliver the little Niffler babies.

You snatched the pair of gloves from beside the cage and tugged them on tight, casting a spell so they’d perfectly fit your hands. You unlocked the cage to take Molly out, moving her into a small tray with bedding in it.

“Okay, Molls, you got this. Mum’s here.”

You rubbed her stomach in small circles, feeling the baby— no, babies— squirm around. One thing was for certain: you needed Newt.

“Mr. Scamander!” you called upstairs. No response. “Mr. Scamander, please!” Still no response. “Merlin’s beard, Newt! Get down here!”

No later did you hear heavy steps growing louder behind you. “(Y/N)! You’re awake! Are you okay-”

You didn’t have time for his rambling. You sent a panicked look over your shoulder, meeting his wide eyes. “Molly is giving birth. Triplets.”

“Merlin’s beard.” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it in contemplation. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s a fighter, I’ll tell you that.”

“What can I do to help you?”

You whipped around. Apparently you’d be delivering the babies. You took in a sobering breath, steadying your shaking hands.

“Something shiny, some snacks, and a towel.”

Newt scrambled around the workspace as fast as he could, dropping the items in front of you. You laid out the towel and snacks beside Molly, massaging her stomach as you felt the babies start to move more than before. It was time. You pulled the shiny object out from behind your back, dangling it above Molly’s head as she delivered three adorable Niffler babies, so distracted by the object that she didn’t realize that she’d given birth. You escorted the babies onto the towel, allowing them to nibble on the snacks as you stripped the gloves off.

“Merlin,” you murmured to yourself in astonishment, “Merlin! I just…”

Newt’s smile was so big it nearly split his face. He nodded, sharing in your excitement. “You did,” he assured.

Completely forgetting about professionalism, you hopped onto him, engulfing him in a tight hug while you laughed melodically. Newt’s thin frame stiffened in your grasp. You gasped, jumping off of him with your hands up.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Scamander. No hugs, I forgot.”

Newt simply stared at you, searching your eyes. You gulped as he took a step closer to you.

“Theseus tends to believe that a hug is just as useful as an apology, so I don’t quite like hugs for that reason.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say.

The corner of Newt’s lips twitched upwards, looking around before meeting your gaze. He took another step forward before taking you in his arms. You began to wonder if he could feel your heart pounding in your chest, whether he assumed it was from adrenaline or knew that it was him that drove you mad.

“You should be proud of yourself!” He pulled away to look in your eyes, his arms slinking downwards to rest around your waist. “And, please, (Y/N), no more with the Mr. Scamander business. I’d like to think that we’re well acquainted enough for you to call me Newt.”

If professionalism was damned before, it was most certainly damned now.

Merlin, he was so close, you couldn’t help yourself. With your arms wrapped behind his neck, you pulled him into a long overdue kiss. Your heart thundered in your chest but you were too focused on the way his lips melted perfectly into yours, the way he kissed you back with such hunger and vigor that you had to hold onto him tighter, the way you began to smile as he attempted to figure out where to place his hands.

You pulled away a moment later, Newt following your lips with unpleasant surprise. All you could do was let out a soft chuckle as your cheeks turned pink.

A teasing grin grew on his lips that had your stomach flipping. “I’m positive now that we’re well acquainted enough for you to call me Newt.”

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

general taglist: @pandaxnienke @lunalovecroft

#newt scamander #newt scamander x you #newt scamander x y/n #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander fanfiction #newton artemis fido scamander #theseus scamander #magizoologist #magizoologist reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander oneshot #tw injury #newt scamander fluff #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald

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moeruhoshi · 3 years

Text

I've been watching anime all day so here's a late nalu day gift

Lucy slammed her bedroom door and flopped down on her bed with a weary sigh, weeping into her pillow as her day finally came to an end.

The open door of her patio allowed her to hear the neighing of carriage horses taking away her most recent suitor, a man who barely knew what the meaning of personal space was.

Just how many princes and dukes had to waltz through their gates before the princess’ father realized that they had no interest in adequately courting her? It was painfully obvious how the lot of them were only interested in her well-displayed décolletage over her personality and spent more time schmoozing up to the king instead of trying to win her favor.

What hurt, even more, was knowing that she could never be with the one who was truly meant for her.

She stared at the red string tied to her pinky, the fiber ending far off in the distance where it connected to her destined partner. It calmed her in some ways, allowed her to feel a sense of clarity, knowing there was at least one more person out there who could give her the true love she craved.

She hoped every day, when Spetto called her down to meet another suitor, that it would be him, the one on the other end of her string, waiting to hold her as she wanted to hold him.

They could instead be a peasant, she thought as her hopes for him to visit one day were beginning to fade. Not that she cared about that kind of thing, but it meant that they didn't have the means to enter the castle easily. Or maybe they were somewhere in a neighboring country, too far away to find her. Maybe he hadn't been gifted the power to see the string and didn't know she was waiting for him but felt just as empty without her by his side.

She was sure if she voiced her knowledge of the red string to anyone else, they would call doctors from all over Earthland to analyze her cognitive function.

But she desperately wanted to tell everyone that she had no intention of selecting a suitor through their gaudy traditions. She would instead venture out into the world to find her soulmate, the person at the end of her red string of fate. But knowing her father, he would only let her marry with the promise of the expanded wealth she would gain him from a political marriage.

"Miss? Are you still awake?" Spetto knocked lightly, the princess holding in her sniffles to hear what the maid had to say. "I'm sure you are…but I won't bother you. Your father wants you to know that he'll be inviting the Duke Cream from Veronica for another visit tomorrow. He's eager to correct his…insolent behavior from the last time he saw you."

The princess didn't bother answering and instead let out a frustrated sigh as the sound of her maid's footsteps echoed down the hall. The setting sun illuminated the crimson strand and her fingers loosely wrapped around it, her weak pout quivering as she tugged on the phantom satin.

"I'd rather have you, whoever you are..."

~000~

"The princess!" Spetto screamed as she ran into the King's throne room. Jude was sat upon his seat with the Duke at his side, their conversation halting at her interruption. "She's gone!"

"What in the world do you mean, woman? I'm sure that no good daughter of mine has just buried her nose in one of those god awful fairy tales again. Have the guards search the library for her," He gruffed, rolling his eyes as her demeanor became more hysterical and shaken.

"I have, your highness! The princess has run away, she's truly nowhere to be found!"

"And just when I was about to be introduced to my bride," The Duke frowned and tossed his bleached hair aside. "Send hounds after her, why don't you? I will not let this girl make a fool of me on this glorious day."

"Go on, then," The King glared at his guards standing nearby who quickly rushed out the door. "I should have known that girl would be trouble. Her mother had always filled her head with nothing but pure nonsense."

Lucy lifted her billowy skirt as she ran through the woods, deep within its darkness, trying her best to ignore the now wailing trumpets of distress audible in the distance. She knew it wouldn't have been long until someone noticed her absence, especially after having heard the reality behind Duke Cream’s visit.

It was by chance, an incident that occurred while she was passing her father's office the night before. Lucy heard the plans he made to arrange her marriage to the Duke, ensuring that their kingdom would absorb the principality. This meant her father would have an entire stronghold on the country of Fiore.

A life with that obnoxious and narcissistic Duke was not one she wanted, nor could even stand the thought of.

So, in a panic, she made plans to run away, leaving when the guards wouldn’t be around, going as far as she could go without any clear signs of which direction she'd taken off in. She persevered through her tiredness with the lone thought of her meeting her soulmate who was sure to greet her with a wide smile and open arms.

"This way! C'mon now, you'll never make it running without anywhere in mind!" A voice tinkled through the line of trees, halting the princess in her place as she breathed harshly and darted around scared eyes.

"Who's there! I-I'm not going back to the castle!" Lucy shouted as she turned about in circles, shrieking as a short blonde girl suddenly appearing from thin air

"Did I say I was trying to take you home? No! Now hurry it up! You'll never make it there if you make stops like this, follow me!" She instructed, turning toward the trees and beginning to run.

"Who are you?" Lucy asked between pants as she followed the shorter blonde, mesmerized by the trail of sparkles she left behind her, and the cute wings peeking out from beside her ears.

"A friend," She smiled as she continued maneuvering them through the woods. "And a guide! You’ll never get where you need to go without my help,"

"So you know where I'm going? You can see my string too?"

"Well, sure! I let you see it after all. Boy, was he worried when I told him you were stuck out here without your magic. Idiot almost killed himself trying to find his way through, but it can't be done by anyone but a spirit." She sighed and shook her head, rambling as they avoided a patch of bramble bushes

"My soulmate...? He was looking for me too? Really?" Lucy felt her heart swell, beating stronger even as she ran, a dazzling smile taking its claim of her lips.

"Yup! You have a very loyal man waiting for you," She giggled. "He can't wait to meet you, said he'd get his house ready and everything while I was out looking for you. I apologize for taking so long, moving around in this realm isn't easy, there’s barely any magic in this land!”

"Magic? Like in books? Isn't that practice all made up?" The princess quirked a brow as the strange girl only giggled again and slowed her movements as they found purchase under the wide berth of a willow tree.

"It's quite amazing someone like you was born here when your home is with us, in the right Fiore. Now, come on! Everyone's waiting!" She grinned, ignoring Lucy's confusion as she pulled them through the hanging branches, the two suddenly falling into the void of the trunk.

"E-Eh?! W-Wha…!" Lucy fell to her knees as she suddenly felt queasy, holding a hand to her head and waited for her headache to subside. She looked up to see where the other blonde had gone, not finding her anywhere and instead met a new and sunny skyline. "Wasn't it…night just a moment ago?"

She stood to her shaky feet, finding her body no longer weighed down by exhaustion, tears, or dirt on her dress. Whatever was in the air made her feel light as, well, air. She'd never felt so amazing before! Just where had she gone when they fell through that tree?

Taking some small steps through the field in front of her, she looked down to her finger, the red string extending into the distance behind her.

"Oh wow…" When Lucy turned around, she was met with the image of a town she had never seen before, curiosity pulling her towards the bustling streets.

It was as she always imagined the streets of the village she ruled above looked; stalls serving food and selling fresh produce, children running and laughing, patrons bartering and making light conversation, happiness in everyone's eyes. Their smiles created her own, and she followed the string eagerly, feeling just right in the Fiore she’d been led to.

She worried this would all turn into a dream soon enough, there couldn't possibly be another Fiore…or the existence of magic at that. Her steps quickened as she feared Spetto would be in at any moment to wake her, feet carrying her towards a patch of woods that broke off from the town.

It would’ve made nice for a peaceful walk if she didn’t think the calm scenery before her would disappear.

“Oi, Gray, watch it!” A sharp voice boomed from the nearby distance.

“Shut it! I know what I’m doing, it ain’t hard to paint a wall, flame brain!”

“Don’t start a fight! We had to rebuild that side of the house five times because you two keep knocking it down!”

Lucy slowed down her pace as the volume of their argument increased but kept her eyes on the string that told her he was just ahead.

Her eyes landed on a red-haired girl pointing a large sword at two boys who kneeled respectively in front of her, bowing their heads as she scolded them.

Breaking through the line of trees, Lucy smoothed down her stray hairs and dusted off her dress, holding herself nervously as she continued forward.

Each step closer made her legs feel like jelly, flushed her cheeks, and made her heart beat a million times faster, her fingers twitching as she held her hands together.

“U-Um...excuse me…?” Lucy’s voice was shaky as she approached the three, her eyes watery as she stared at the pink-haired boy who raised his head at the sound of her voice. The string fell into his lap; he was her soulmate.

The red-haired girl turned to face her first, eyes concerned as they fell on her disheveled appearance. “My goodness, are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“N-No...I—“

"Oh, crap! It's you!"

"Don't say that to a girl, idiot! You have no idea who that is!" The raven-haired boy threw a glare at the pink-haired one who quickly stood up.

“Mavis didn’t tell me when you’d get here, I would’ve come to pick you up if I knew you were...oh, hey, don’t cry, okay? Um, here,” He quickly took the end of his scarf to wipe her tears, feeling a knot in his throat as she gently fell against his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

"I just...I just can't believe…" She shook her head, not minding the stain she created on his shirt. "That you're real...that you were waiting for me."

"'Course I was! Having a new family member is always exciting, and my hearts been leapin' like crazy waitin' for you! You were stuck out there all alone and I couldn't come find you. I'm sorry it took so long."

Erza forced herself and Gray to look away as the blonde hastily kissed their wild companion, his shock present in the stiffness of his back.

He was startled by the sudden action but felt himself melting into the touch, desperate as well to be close to his soulmate.

"I'm home," Lucy laughed with a bit of surprise, Natsu's eyes widening along with his grin.

"Yeah! Welcome back!"

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu and lucy #natsu x lucy #lucy and natsu #lucy x natsu #nalu day 2021 #nalu day

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter 6: Let’s Play a Game (Overprotection)

AO3

Marinette ended up not staying for dinner. She talked to Bruce for a little bit, but he had to leave for some WE emergency and Marinette wasn’t really up to bonding with the boys- her brothers- yet. But that was fine. It wasn’t like she was desperate to get to know the man and wouldn’t be able to after this trip because she had to stay in Paris because of Hawkmoth. No, she wasn’t upset. Not at all. It didn’t hurt her feelings. Nope.

---

Walking into Madame Soleil's Wax Museum with Adrien by her side, Marinette is hit with a major wave of deja vu. And not a good deja vu. No, the memories of the last time she was in a wax museum with Adrien were awful, humiliating and- feeling a hand wrap around hers pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. Glancing down, Marinette tries (and fails) to hide her grin. Adrien is holding her hand. Adrien is holding her hand!

“Hey Marinette!” A familiar voice calls, a hand squeezing her shoulder, making Marinette squeal and whirl around.

“Dick? What are you doing here?” She asks, frowning at the boy- her brother- as he stands there with a huge smile.

“Well I heard that a new wax figure is being revealed today, and I thought I might come and see it.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Really? Who?” Adrien asks. Dick’s smile twitches slightly as he glances at Marinette, making her frown. Was he seriously about to play the overprotective big brother card? Really?

“Jagged Stone.” Dick finally says, glancing at their entwined hands. Marinette tries hard not to roll her eyes. Come on, her crush is finally holding her hand and her brother (who she’s known for a day!) is seriously trying to ruin that for her?

“Oh cool! Do you think he’ll come to Gotham to see it, Mari?” Adrien asks.

“I think he’s definitely scheduled to make an appearance in Gotham in the next couple days. He’s picking up his new suit in person.” She whispers, grinning at the idea of seeing her “Uncle” in person again. He’d been touring for several months and she hadn’t been able to see him for awhile, just the occasional video call.

“So! What figures did you guys want to check out first?” Dick asks, wedging himself between the two and forcing Adrien to drop her hand. Glaring at her brother, Marinette scoffs when Dick just smiles innocently.

“The hall of heroes and villains sounds cool.” Adrien suggests, looking around Dick to see Marinette.

“Hmm. Okay, but if the Nightwing figure is in his disco costume, I reserve the right to melt the statue.” She says, frowning at the choked noise Dick makes. “Are you okay?” She adds.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine. What’s 1so bad about that costume?” He asks, a hurt expression on his face.

“Have you even seen it? The only worse costume is Riddler’s.” Marinette says, adding a shudder for dramatic effect. Walking past the local celebrities room and the pop stars room, Marinette’s eyes widen as their small group walks into the hall of heroes and villains. Walking away from Dick and Adrien, she’s almost instantly drawn to the Batman figure. She reads the little plaque about the artist and frowns, turning to Dick who had moved to stand next to her.

“I thought it’d be taller.” She says, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion when Dick starts choking on air, gasping for breath as broken chuckles flood out of him. “Ookay then.” She mutters, turning and walking back towards the villains. Nightwing was, luckily, depicted in his most recent costume. As was Robin. Which meant the only real fashion tragedy (besides the god awful helmet Red Hood wore) was the Riddler. Pulling her sketchbook out, Marinette circles the wax figure, occasionally making notes and sketching out slight adjustments to the man’s costume.

“His costume might be terrible, but it’s still better than half of the akumas.” Adrien whispers, leaning over her shoulder. Marinette looks up at him, eyes wide as her face heats up with a blush.

“I, uh, um, yes. Yeah.” She says, trying not to wince at her lack of speaking skills. “I mean, at least we can rule out any fashion designer in Paris as Hawkmoth. Because if Hawkmoth was a designer, that’d almost be a bigger crime.” She adds, smiling as Adrien laughs.

“Good to know you’re not moonlighting as Hawkmoth, m’lady.” He says with a mock bow. Marinette snorts, then covers her mouth, embarrassment rushing over her. Adrien just shakes his head, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

“In case you forgot, we’ve definitely seen each other at our most embarrassing.” He says, making her groan.

“Oh god, no. I tied us up with my yoyo!” She moans, turning and burying her face into his chest so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. Her face heats up more when she feels him chuckle and wrap his arms around her.

“I’ve always thought that was paw-sitively adorable.” He says, laughing when she groans again. She pulls away slightly, looking up at him with a timid smile. He smiles back, starts to lean forward and-

“Hey guys! I heard they’re about to unveil the Jagged Stone figure. Come on, let’s go! Don’t wanna miss it.” Dick says, grabbing each of their hands and pulling them towards the exist (and successfully separating them again). Marinette tries not to glare at Dick. She’s about to have one less brother.

---

Dick Grayson wasn’t used to having a little sister that he could protect. Sure, he had a little sister. Cas was awesome, but she could also kick his ass without breaking a sweat. No, he’d never had a little sister to protect. Someone he could watch out for and support. But now….now he has Marinette. And he’ll be damned if he lets some little punk take advantage of his little sister. Ignoring Marinette’s glare, he positions himself right between her and...the boy. He’d need to ask Timmy to do a background check on the kid later. Especially if he thought he was good enough for Marinette.

“So are you guys big Jagged fans?” He asks, trying to pull the two back into a conversation. He narrows his eyes at the smile the kid gives Marinette. It’s too...adoring. Too much. She’s only...what, fourteen? Much too young to date. Especially this kid.

“Mari’s a bit of a fan, I think. But, personally, I much prefer Jagged’s designer.” He says, and Dick turns to him, missing the way Marinette’s face turns bright red.

“Are you talking about MDC? I love them! Their work is amazing! And Jagged Stone says that he’ll never have another designer. I heard that there’s a possibility of them opening their commissions again. God, I hope they do. I’d do anything for something made by MDC.” Dick rambles with a wide smile, deciding to ignore the kid for a minute in order to ramble about his favorite designer. As the group walks into the pop star room, Dick steps back and glares at the kid. He’d stepped just behind Dick and was apparently trying to hold Marinette’s hand again. Not on his watch. No siree. No one’s gonna hurt his little sister.

---

Bruce sighs, running his hands through his hair. He’d been checking the street cameras in Paris, trying to figure out what time Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol so that he can set up a meeting. Try and offer help, or maybe even offer to take control of the situation. Anything to get rid of Hawkmoth. But instead, it was like the heroes didn’t exist. He’d read reports of the heroes patrolling before, so why were they so quiet this week? The only akuma from the past couple days wasn’t even taken care of by both of them. Ladybug did it alone, and seemed worse for the wear when she came out of the battle. Where was Chat Noir? And why did it seem as though they had gone into hiding?

---

Marinette was five seconds away from committing her first murder. Okay, probably her only murder, unless her other brothers decide to be as involved in her love life as Dick is. Because Dick won’t have the chance to be a problem for much longer. Because Marinette was honestly going to kill him. Right as she turned to finally yell at him, and tell him to knock it off, the lights flickered. She pauses her tirade, glancing to gauge Dick’s reaction to see if this is normal. And if his worried glances back at her are anything to go by, this is not normal.

“Let’s play a game! Solve my riddles and you all can leave freely, but make a mistake and someone will pay greatly! Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?” A man’s voice asks, Marinette frowning as the Riddler walks in, a wide smile on his face. Ten goons walk in behind him, all of them carrying guns. She was used to the akuma attacks almost every day, but didn’t Gotham’s rogues have anything better to do than attack every place her class went? With guns? Come on. Riddler smirks and points at Adrien with his cane.

“A match.” She blurts out, ignoring Dick frantically shaking his head. If nothing else, she should be able to work with Adrien to get everyone out. But she knew his style. And riddles weren’t really his thing.

“Oh goody. We have a volunteer. Tell me, what has to be broken before you can use it?” Riddler asks, stalking towards her. Thinking for a second, Marinette tries to suppress a smile.

“An egg.” She says. Riddler narrows his eyes.

“I have 13 hearts, but no lungs or stomach. What am I?” He asks, Marinette frowns, running through possible answers in her head.

“A deck of cards.” She finally says.

“Buzzy, come over here and hold onto our friend.” Riddler says, gesturing to one of the goons. The man comes over and grabs Marinette’s arm roughly, she winces. That’ll definitely bruise.

“I answered your riddles.” Marinette says, deciding that now's as good a time as any to start distracting the man.

“And how did you answer them so quickly?” He asks, the frustration clear on his face.

“What do you mean? Were they supposed to be hard?” Marinette taunts, ignoring the choked sound Dick makes behind her. She knew what she was doing. She did. She had to.

“Why you-” Riddler starts, stepping forward and pulling his hand back as if to hit her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette waits for the slap. The slap never comes. Opening her eyes, Marinette’s jaw drops when she sees the Riddler’s fist held tightly in Dick’s hand.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” He says lowly, a dark look on his face. Well that was unexpected. Riddler opens his mouth, probably to start spouting more riddles or other nonsense, when the goons blocking the exits drop. Noticing Red Robin and Red Hood picking off the other goons, Marinette throws her elbow back into the gut of the goon holding her. Not waiting for him to recover, Marinette stomps his foot and twists out of his grip. Grabbing his arm, Marinette manages to yank the man off balance and toss him to the ground. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump back and prepare to hit the person.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay ma’am.” The voice attached to the hand says. Marinette whirls around, ready to tell off the person, but immediately stops when she sees Red Robin.

“Sorry!” She yelps, jumping away from him. And she was too. She was determined to hit the person who grabbed her shoulder, so locked into battle mode, but she had managed to stop herself. Glancing around the room, Marinette notices Dick talking to Red Hood, his usual smile back on his face. That’s good. That’s normal, that’s right. The sudden blaring of the akuma alarm makes Marinette want to scream in frustration. Really, right now? It’s definitely already dark in Paris which means- Chat Noir. Ignoring everyone else, Marinette runs over to Adrien and grabs his hand.

“Akuma?” He asks, his voice low. She nods and tugs him towards the bathrooms, unaware of the eyes following them out.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

#maribat #maribat bruce wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #maribat adrienette #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad au #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #maribat batfam #mbdbwm2021 #day six overprotection #ao3fic

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drakenology · 4 years

Text

My Other Half. - Bokuto Kōtarō

warnings: smut, soft, passionate love making, fluff, angst?, best friends to lovers, maaaybe overstim?, praise, fem!reader, cunnilingus (a fancy word for pussy eating). just bokuto going all out to make you feel good.

Summary: Two childhood friends reunite after years of being separated to find old memories and new feelings of love.

Author’s Note: this is my first ever like fluffy piece. all my other work I feel has just been raunchy and I wanted to show yall my soft side. enjoy! <3

Bokuto Kotoro. A name you knew well. A name you knew since you were both kids playing in dirt together, running around and screaming without a care in the world. Two peas in a pod; like Peter Pan and Tinker Bell. It was a sad day when he moved away. Your only friend packed up and left for Tokyo, tears in his eyes as he sat in the backseat of his parents’ car. He waved goodbye through the glass window as the car drove away, a trail of his tears seeming to follow the car as it went. That was the last time you saw him.

When you turned twenty one, your birthday present was a small house in Japan. Some place rural and quiet to do your writing, a small creek flowing in your back yard. You packed up and left home, kissing your mother and father goodbye as you walked out the door. Maybe you’ll run into Bokuto? Hell, he probably won’t even recognize you. It’s been years after all.

You still hoped some how some way fate would bring you together again. You missed him like crazy. His laugh, his stupid jokes. That sparkle in his eyes when he saw you at school. The bear hugs he used to give when you scraped your knee playing with him at the park. It was crazy to assume he’d be waiting for you in Tokyo as if you were the only girl he’d ever meet or care to talk to.

He’s grown now, just about a year older than you. He could have a significant other by now. Your heart ached at the thought. Even though it was selfish to call dibs on a childhood crush who hasn’t seen you in over 10 years, you still hoped; prayed that he was waiting for you or at least remembered you.

When you arrive in your new home and settle in you decide to take the town. Surely you can make some friends, maybe even meet a guy while you’re out? You don’t bother to get all gussied up, walking outside your front door and walking to the nearest bar you can drink your inhibitions away in. The bar you found was small and smelled a bit like sweaty athletes and sake.

The atmosphere was lively despite the off putting smell, everyone was laughing and chatting aloud. The sounds of glasses clinking in celebration and jovial cheering filled the space. You smile softly at the sight of everyone having a great time and find a spot in a nice booth by the window.

The guys behind you must be where the sweaty smell was coming from, their clammering laughter pounding at your head. You try ignoring it until you hear a different yet familiar voice; boisterous and proud like a boy you once knew.

“Yo, Akaashi! Pass the ketchup man, I’m hungry!” He whined childishly, same as always. You turn around swiftly to see if the face matched the voice. Surely enough there he was sitting there, tall as a tree even when sitting in his seat.

God he got so handsome, his face definitely grew into his looks. Bokuto wasn’t a little boy anymore for sure. You stammer, looking between Bokuto and his messy haired friend sitting next to him and a few others. You go to say something only for your own anxiety to stop you, your heart fluttering in your chest in a new way you haven’t felt before.

Finally Bokuto’s eyes meet yours and you both sit there for a while just staring, as if each of you couldn’t believe you were seeing each other again after all this time in forever. Bokuto’s face crept into a smile; a familiar smile that melted your heart.

“Y/n-chan? Tell me you’re joking! I can’t believe it’s you!” Bokuto shouts over everyone’s conversation, leaping from his seat and running towards your booth. You’re still stuck there turned around looking like an owl gawking at the table behind you to realize what’s going on.

Bokuto practically lifts you from your seat and wraps you in one of his famous bear hugs, the ones that made you cry into his chest. As tradition called, you start sobbing into his shirt. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him in tight almost to tell him not to let you go ever again.

“Hey hey hey.. why are you crying? Shit you’re gonna make me cry. Stop it.” Bokuto says into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your back with his big hand.

“I-I’m sorry I just.. it’s been so long.” You admit, sniffling as he pulled away to wipe your face. You can’t help but get emotional at the sight of him.

“Geez, Y/N if you missed me just say that.” Bokuto teased, erupting into furious laughter at your flustered face.

“Oh shut up Bokuto!” You squeak, punching him in his side like the old days. Your usual banter made you two look at each other and laugh as if you two were the only ones in the bar, his friends staring at the the two of you as if you were insane.

“Uh Bokuto.. who is this woman?” The messy haired friend asked, looking about the most confused out of everyone.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry guys. This is Y/N Y/L/N. Other than Akaashi, she’s one my closest friends. Our moms were close so we were raised kinda like siblings.” Bokuto explained, nudging you to say hello.

You wave and introduce yourself, the everyone ooing and ahhing at you. Not to toot your horn but you were gorgeous. Even Bokuto couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He was thinking of how well you grew up, so stunning and so you. Bokuto remembers the little scar you had just above your eyebrow from tripping over and rock and smiles when he sees it, almost wanting to reach out and poke it like when he did when he was 10. He wonders if you remember that day.

You were playing pretend by the trees in the park, you were good and he was evil. You were chasing him and you tripped and fell, causing the evil doer act to shed away to make sure you were alright. You both made up a crazy story about your scar to your mother; which she never believed. Good times.

The rest of the night was spent catching up and talking like he wasn’t even with others originally. Everyone else eventually had gone home, Akaashi the last to go. He waved goodbye to you and Bokuto and drove home, you and Bokuto still sitting at the bar basking in each other’s company.

“Wow! So your parents got you a place here so you can work? Nice. And you live nearby too. So I can come and visit you and- sorry I’m rambling.” Bokuto says sheepishly, running his hands along the nape of his neck. You giggle, taking a sip of your drink.

“No no, you’re fine Bokuto. Of course you can visit. My house is your house.” You smile, Bokuto’s cheeks heating up as he blushed. You check the time and notice it was far too late and stand from your seat.

“It’s late, Kō, we should call it a night.” You say, grabbing your things. Bokuto smiles and stands up with a stretch of his limbs; relishing in his old nickname.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

You two talk and talk all the way home, years of catching up to do feeling long over due. When you get to your home you almost feel sad that you’re about to depart from each other. It felt like you weren’t going to see him again. Bokuto pulls you into a hug, spinning you around a little. He laughs when you squeal and yell at him to put you down.

“Hey. I’ll come by tomorrow night so we can watch movies.” He declares, standing you on your feet.

“Hah. How do you know I won’t have plans, hm?” You teased, poking Bokuto’s forehead. It was a lot easier when you were younger since he was shorter than you back then. Boy sprouted like a palm tree.

“You just moved here. Besides. You know I’m your favorite.” Bokuto smirks, taking your hand and spinning you. You giggle and punch his shoulder lightly.

“As if, Kō. See ya tomorrow.”

A month goes by swiftly. Bokuto had been over to your house more often than you thought he’d be. You loved the time you spent together just goofing off and being big kids.

Your schedules worked perfectly together, his volleyball is usually done by the evening and your work is over just after him. Bokuto would pick you up from work with fast food waiting in the car for you both to eat together. Today was no different, the smell of fries greeting your hungry nose as you climb inside his car.

“Yo! How was your day, nerd?” Bokuto asks, fisting his fries into his mouth as you dig for yours.

“It was okay. I’m starving though.” You say, stuffing your face with your food.

You both sit in the car and eat for a while, Bokuto’s phone breaking your shared silence. You look down at where it rested in the cup holder and read the caller id. It was a girl. Bokuto answers the phone, sounding as if he didn’t want her to call him right at this moment.

“I’ll call you back. Bye.” He said, hanging up his phone and sitting it back in the cup holder. You couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, your heart sinking as your head makes up several sceanarios about who she was, what she meant to him.

You eat in silence, answering Bokuto’s yammering with no ambition. Bokuto’s so dumb he doesn’t even notice the difference in attitude as the call wasn’t as scandalous as you seemed. It was just some girl who was trying to get with Akaashi but was too afraid to say anything herself so she had asked Bokuto to set them up.

“My place or yours today?” He asked, sing songy and happy.

“Mine.” You say monotonously. Bokuto looks over at you and sees you’re not even facing him, your face stuck to the window as he drove off.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I smell?” Bokuto said, playfully smelling his armpits. You shake your head and insist it’s nothing and that you’ll get over it. But it wasn’t nothing, and you were pretty certain you weren’t going to get over it. Was that his girlfriend? Some random hook up looking for another round? It made you sick to your stomach thinking about it. You got out of the car when Bokuto parked, walking to your front door to unlock it as Bokuto followed behind you.

“I pick the movie out this time. I’ll be damned if you pick another chick flick out.” Bokuto says plopping on your couch and turning on the tv, making himself at home.

You sigh and walk into your room to change into something more comfortable, rolling your eyes as you hear Kōtarō yell about the movie starting. You walk out in shorts and a tank top since it was pretty hot inside and sit next to him, folding your arms.

Bokuto’s eating his snacks and talking through the whole movie since he’s seen it before. He always picks a movie he’s seen before so he can tell you the whole plot, forgetting that you could just watch the movie for that. You half laugh and sigh at all his mannerisms, your guard completely blocking him out from getting any closer to you.

“Is something wrong, Y/N? Seriously you’re being a little stand offish.” Bokuto says, a serious tone taking place. You scoffed, rolling your eyes to hide that you’re obviously upset by something.

“Nothing.” You snide.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. Somethin’s wrong. Don’t make me start guessing.” Bokuto says. You sigh.

“It’s so stupid.” You admit.

“How you feel isn’t stupid. Tell me what’s up.” He persisted, pausing the movie.

“I just- well.. I-How do I say this? I’m.. jealous?” You finally admit. Bokuto raises an eyebrow.

“Jealous? About what?”

“Well. I saw a girl call you and I-I just assumed it was your girlfriend so..”

“Wait what? I don’t have a girlfriend. And besides why would you care?” Bokuto further questions, his face nearing yours with a perplexed look on his face. You flush, turning your face away from his.

“I-I don’t know I just-“

“You’re in love with me, aren’t you Y/N?” Bokuto smirks, turning your head to face him with your chin. You blink up at him, embarrassed and flustered.

“I-um-I...” You stutter. You loved the idiot sitting next to you with all your heart. But to say it was a different story.

“Because I love you too. So say it back.” Bokuto declares. You freeze for a moment, almost unsure you heard what you just heard.

“R-Really?”

“I love you, Y/N. The moment I saw you again felt like...fate. It was like everything made sense again. I never realized how much tou meant to me until I left that day. You’re my other half.” He says to you so sweetly, his words stirring up emotions inside you that were aching to be let out. Your eyes sting as you choke back tears, clutching onto Bokuto’s hands.

“Kōtarō... I-I love you too. All those years felt so empty without you. And God I just wanted to kiss you that day at the bar and I-“

Bokuto stops you midsentence to pull his face into yours and kiss you hard, your heads bumping into each other a bit from the sudden movement. Passion flowed through the kiss, your mouths exploring each others for the very first time. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go to straddle him.

Bokuto welcomes you onto his lap with ready hands, palms feeling every curve and divot of your body. Your need for each other grew with each kiss, mindlessly grinding against each other to feel closer. Every touch of his big hands made you feel alive, setting your body on fire. Bokuto starts to whine softly, his pants growing a tad bit tight at all the raw kissing. He pulled away, lips swollen and breathing uneven.

“I want you so badly. Can I-“ Bokuto goes to ask for consent, his nervousness making him struggle to find the words he’s looking for.

You shut him up with another kiss, already knowing what he wants to say as he lifts you up and carries you away. Starting in the kitchen he sits you on the counter as he takes off your top, your bare breasts popping out when the garment flies over your head and onto the floor. He’s never seen such gorgeous breasts before, he swore. Seeing you this way only made him long for you more, standing there dumb founded at the sight of your chest.

“W-Wow.” Bokuto gasps, taking both your breasts into his hands and oogling at them with love in his eyes. “So perfect.”

He takes one into his warm mouth, your body arching at the feeling and letting out a small whine. Music to his ears.

“Kō..” you sigh, closing your eyes as he suckled on your nipples.

His tongue slid over each hardened bud and looked up at you, studying your body language to learn it well. Without a word he slides off your shorts and pick you up again, hoisting you away to your bedroom after asking where it is.

Frantic kisses and breathless moans trail down the hall with a reach of the doorknob. You’re laid carefully onto the bed, Bokuto crawling on top of you without daring to pull his lips from yours just yet.

He could kiss you for hours. He could die right now and be completely content all because of this moment. Bokuto takes his hands and slides them down to the waist band of your panties, tugging them down to reveal your dripping core.

Bokuto teased his fingers along your slick folds, savoring the feeling of your wetness on his skin.

You let out the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard, urging him to draw more music from your lips. He crawls downwards towards your pussy, laying on his stomach and pulling your hips forward.

You gasp at the sudden feeling of his tongue parting your folds, mewling as you arch your back. His tongue worked its magic on you, sliding up to your clit to pay special attention to it. Breathless calls of his name fill the air, your hands grabbing fist fulls of the sheets as he fucked you with his tongue.

Your eyes roll back with every swipe of his tongue, relishing in the toe curling pleasure he gave you. That familiar knot started forming in the pit of your stomach, your moans increasing in volume as you near your orgasm. Bokuto must have sensed this and wrapped his plush lips around your throbbing clit, prodding his fingers at your weeping hole to fill you.

“Kō! I-I’m gonna cum!” You whine, your hands finding home in his hair and tugging lightly. Bokuto responded with a groan against your clit and a hook in his fingers, causing you to boil over without hesitation. Your thighs shake around his head, one hand covering your mouth to spare your neighbors the noise. Bokuto comes back up to kiss you, your slick coating his lips and chin. You taste your sweetness and kiss him with tongue, both of you sighing into each other.

“Wanna... be inside you.” Bokuto says breathlessly into the kiss, his dick aching to be let out of his pants.

You pull away and unbutton his jeans, Bokuto kicking them off onto the floor and pulling down his boxers. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of his dick, its sheer size enough to make you salivate. The way it swung a little when he took off his boxers, the prominent veins running along the shaft, its head blushing and leaking with precum. Bokuto had a gorgeous dick. You almost wanted to put it in your mouth but the heat of the moment called for a different hole to be filled.

Bokuto prods himself at your entrance and slowly slides inside you, inhaling sharply at the contact. You gasp at the dull stretch, feeling so full as you mewl uncontrollably. His hips roll slowly, thrusting deep inside your gummy walls as he rested his forehead onto yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, nails digging into the skin of his back as he picked up the pace.

“You feel so good, baby.” He spoke, kissing you gently to soothe you. You can feel him so deeply it almost brought a tear to your eye, his plunging movements sending your mind into a stupor.

He mummbled sweet praise against your neck, kissing the soft skin as he took you. A part of him wanted to go harder; really ruin that sweet face of yours and turn you into a lewd mess, but you mean more than that to him. This moment is nothing but pure love between two people who have known each other all their lives. You shriek as his hips start slamming into yours, back arching off the bed as your nipples pebbled against his chest.

“I-I love you, Bokuto.” You whine. Your eyes flash white, your vision becoming foggy as the mind boggling pleasure ripples through your body. You chant his name like a mantra, Bokuto mumbling how much he loves you as his hips do more of the talking. You feel him throb inside you, it becoming obvious he’s holding back so you can cum first. He’s rubbing circles into your clit as he pins your legs above your head. It all became so much so fast, your mewls spewing from your lips no longer caring who hears what.

“Let go for me, baby. C’mon..” He hums, nibbling on your neck. You scream, your tight cunny clenching down on his length as you cum for a second time that night. Bokuto rides out your orgasm, watching your body shake and shiver at the feeling of him sliding in and out of your weeping hole.

Bokuto doesn’t have time to think of where to cum, your walks sucking him in so well he loses all sense of control. He cums hot inside you, your pussy milking him for everything he had as he pants into your neck. You both stay in position for a while, looking at each other with love sick eyes. Bokuto rests himself on top of you, still nuzzled inside you as his cum leaks onto the sheets. You’re both out of breath, sitting in the high you both came to as you rub lazy circles into his back.

Nothing but pure love circulated the air as you rest together in bed, naked and vulnerable. You don’t say anything but soft I love yous to each other, gentle kisses on each others lips as you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu headcanons #queue made me do it 🥴

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cowboy-like-mee · 3 years

Text

please, just say it

summary: harry fucked up and you’ve had enough

warnings: little bit of smut at the beginning, lots of angst

word count: 2k

a/n: hi! hopefully this isn’t awful lmao. i had fun writing this. sorry it took a bit for me to finish. i kinda hate the end but it’s fine. please reblog if you like!!! and leave me feedback or requests here!!!

and consider buying me a coffee here <3

masterlist

"Fuck, Y/N! Just like that, baby." Harry moans out as you bounce up and down on his cock. Your legs were burning and you honestly weren't that close, You just weren't as into it tonight as you normally are with him. You can tell he was enjoying himself though- his head was thrown back on the pillow behind him and his mouth was open in pleasure. His hands are lazily rested on your ass, not helping you move on and off him at all.

"Shit, a-are you close?" He speaks out to you, pulling you out of your trance. You think for a second, not knowing if you wanted to lie just to get this done with or if you wanted to make him work to get you off.

"Not really." You shrug, continuing to grind yourself onto his cock, feeling the coarse hairs around the base of his cock digging into your clit.

Not expecting that answer, his head snaps up to you as he tries to bite back his moans.

"Shit, I'm sorry. What do you need me to do?"

"Um, can you get on top? And rub my clit?" You say shyly, despite the number of times you have done this together.

He flips you both over in one swift movement and begins railing into you, hitting the spot inside of you consistently. His hand reaches right above where you're connected and rubs tight circles into your clit. You can feel a small orgasm building up quickly.

"Is that better, baby?" He says into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine because of the huskiness in his voice. You nod and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to force your release.

"Come with me, Y/N." Harry groans out, his hips stuttering. You feel a small bubble release in your belly, spreading warmly throughout your lower body. He pulls out as soon as he's done releasing inside of you. He plops down on the bed next to you, his arm resting on his abdomen as he catches his breath. You turn over onto your side and curl up under the covers, feeling extremely vulnerable and small.

Your throat burns, tears stinging your eyes. You sniffle quietly to yourself, hoping Harry can't hear you. You can't believe you've let yourself get to this point. You're disgusted with yourself. Silent tears spill down your cheeks. You swallow down the sobs bubbling in your throat. You wish you could disappear right now.

The bed dips next to you, signaling Harry's departure. You're quick to wipe the tears off your face. Harry pulls his clothes on quickly. "I'm gonna head out," he says. When you don't reply he gently shakes your body. "C'mon, I know you're awake." You're frozen. This could be the moment when you finally let him in.

"Alright, whatever. I'll text you when I need you-" He says, but quickly cuts himself off when he sees you roll over to face him with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "What's wrong?" He furrows his eyebrows at you as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

You sit up and pull your legs into your chest. "H... can we talk?" You speak lowly. He sighs, almost sounding annoyed. Even though you've known each other for a few years, you don't think you've spent over two hours together in one day in a year. This is pushing the imaginary time limit he set for you two. You know Harry, and you know he likes to fuck you and leave, or fuck you and send you on your way if it was at his place.

"Sure." He shrugs. "What's up?"

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for the words you're about to spill out of your mouth. "I don't think I can do this with you anymore." You spit out so quickly it's almost inaudible. He immediately reels back in shock.

"W-what? Why? Is it something I did? Are you not satisfied? I-I know I can do better. I mean sometimes I don't always try. Have you been faking it? I promise I'll do better-" He rambles on and on and you just sit there in silence as he worries more about his ego than the way tears are welling up in your eyes. You clench your jaw at him.

"Harry!" You yell at him. "Listen to me!" He slowly nods his head. "I...I just-" You sigh, trying to think of the right thing to say. "I just haven't been that into it lately and... I just have a lot of stuff going on in my life right now." Tears spill down your cheek as you speak.

"I can help you-" He tries to intervene.

"No, Harry. You don't understand. It's nothing you can fix. I just need to be left alone. I've had a lot of fun with you, but I think it's best for both of us right now."

"But how? How is it better for me? I need you." He tries to reach for you, but you flinch back.

"You don't need me." You mumble under your breath, hoping he didn't hear you.

"What?" He says, cluing you in on the fact he just heard you say that.

"You don't need me, Harry! You need my fucking pussy!"

"What the fuck does that mean, Y/N?" He says while clenching his jaw.

"Apparently, I'm only good enough for a quick fuck, Harry." You say mocking the tone he just used on you.

"Well, that's all we agreed to, is it not?" He raises his eyebrow at you.

"We agreed to hook up with no feelings! Not using me for your own pleasure every god damn day! You never even greet me or ask how I'm doing! You just push me up against the nearest wall and kiss me! What if I didn't even invite you over for sex and you kissed me without asking, huh?"

"Well, fuck, Y/N, I didn't realize I was supposed to be your therapist before I fuck you! And you ever invite me over for anything other than sex anyway!" He screams out.

"God, you're such a fucking asshole! I'm not saying that! We used to be best friends and now I can't even remember the last real conversation we've had. And I never explicitly say I want you to come over for sex! I just ask for you to come over and you assume that every time. Maybe I just want to hang out with my old best friend!" You scream out.

His jaw drops in shock and he's quick to defend himself. "You can't put this all on me! It's on both of us, Y/N! You could have tried talking to me too, and if you want to hang out without fucking you should have said something."

"I have tried! You never fucking listen to me, Harry! Everything I have said to you in the past year has gone in one ear and out the other." You scream.

He stares at you in silence, not knowing what to say. He knew he hasn't been the best to you the past year, but he didn't realize it was this bad.

"You fuck me and then leave two minutes after we're done, or should I say when you're��done! You can't even look me in the eye when your dick is inside of me. What did I do wrong, Harry? I just miss how we used to be. I want to go out to eat with you again and have movie nights and paint each other's nails. I just want us to be how we used to be! Before we even began hooking up. You never stay over for longer than two hours. It's like your not physically capable of it. Am I that terrible of a person you can't even stand to be around me anymore? You used to be my best friend and now I don't even know if I can qualify as a friend." You say choking back your sobs.

He tugs on his hair and sighs. "Fuck." He says to himself. "I never thought it would get to this point, Y/N."

You roll your eyes. "What does that mean?"

"How do you expect me to have sex with you multiple times a week while continuing being your best friend without catching feelings for you!"

"What's so bad about having feelings for me, huh?" You say looking him in the eye with the most heartbreaking look on your face.

"Nothing is bad about that, I just don't need a relationship right now." He explains.

"You're the one that initiated the first kiss between us, Harry. You knew I had just gotten out of a relationship. You knew how sad I was. You took advantage of me."

You stare at him hoping he would say something. You stared at him hoping he would admit that he kissed you that night because he liked you as much as you liked him and not because he felt bad for you. You hoped he would own up to everything he's done to you, apologize, and confess his love for you, or else you might as well just pass away right there

When he said nothing, you continued, "And just because you have feelings for me doesn't mean we have to be in a relationship. I don't understand. You've made me feel like shit just because you don't have time for a relationship right now? Have you ever noticed that you've been doing this or are you just as clueless as every other straight man on this planet?"

"Of course I didn't notice. I would never purposely make you feel that way! I'm not a complete dick."

"I just..." You trail off, unsure if you should tell him your next thought.

"What? Tell me, Y/N." He says

"I just wish you wanted me as much as I want you." You say sadly, letting your head fall into your hands.

"Y/N, I-I don't know what to say." He says sadly grabbing your hand in his larger one.

"Tell me you don’t want to leave. Say I’m enough to make you stay. I know it’s not true, but please just say it."

"I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, don't leave me. I-I will be better. I s-swear. You are enough. I'll stay. I miss how we used to be too. We can go back to how we once were. I swear. " He sniffles, tears welling up in his eye.

"Harry..." You whisper.

"Y/N..." He whispers back.

"I need you to leave." You say as strongly as you can manage.

"W-what? But, I thought y-you..you just said" He stumbles over his words, letting several tears slide down his cheeks. He stands up and looks at you.

"Please, Harry. I can't do this anymore. I need to move on. I've been waiting for over a year for you. You had your chance. You broke my heart." You shake your head as you speak, trying to hold yourself together.

When he stares at you saying nothing with silent tears streaming down his red cheeks, you continue.

"And you wanna know what the worst part of this is?" You choke out a fake laugh through your hot tears. "You're the one I would usually run to after something like this, but you're the one that did this to me."

You stand up out of bed pulling your t-shirt back over your head along with a random pair of sweats on the ground, not bothering with panties. You quickly make your way to leave your house, before turning around at your bedroom door. You turn around to look back at Harry, he's standing there looking at the spot on the bed where you just were. You shake your head and sigh loudly.

"And please be gone by the time I get back." You say and make your way out of the house, getting in your car and speeding off to clear your mind.

Fuck him.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles smut

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all-things-fic · 4 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things.

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it.

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe.

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’.

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place.

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude.

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care.

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him.

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years.

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness.

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch.

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning.

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy.

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch.

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over.

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety.

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt.

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is.

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes.

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you.

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music.

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch.

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark.

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try.

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat.

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap.

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours.

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging - one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in.

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it.

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring.

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain.

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night.

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction.

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is.

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper.

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry.

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different.

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him.

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted.

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.”

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction.

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first.

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he?

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap.

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed.

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage. You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.”

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.”

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown.

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however.

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.”

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them.

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before.

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry.

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.”

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore?

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact.

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped.

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined.

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in.

And neither did he.

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you.

Understanding was vital.

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete.

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore.

And for once you didn’t feel alone.

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became.

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here.

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t.

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.”

“We were both drunk, it happens.”

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?”

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes.

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug.

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door.

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting.

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers.

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question.

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in.

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished.

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar.

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar.

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of.

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately.

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double.

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.”

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment.

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning.

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment.

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him.

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity.

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?”

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them.

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape.

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile.

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him.

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him.

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found?

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated.

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.”

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly.

“Not if I have my way.”

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs.

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his.

“Different, but better.”

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away.

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged.

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh.

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his.

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck.

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you.

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved.

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back.

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too.

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show.

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him.

“You don’t have to-“

“No?”

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused.

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling.

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue.

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear.

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt.

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away.

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself.

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more.

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks.

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting.

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents.

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling.

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.”

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession.

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed.

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable.

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you.

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more.

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge.

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders.

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks.

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were.

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too.

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time.

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before.

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things.

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips.

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking.

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour.

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch.

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale.

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again.

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

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sunlight-moonrise · 4 years

Text

The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite.

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told.

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest.

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god.

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say.

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be.

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #reader insert #hurt/comfort #secret fic swap

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usermoreid · 3 years

Note

what would the unsub maeve story line be like? talk about it!

god im so happy you asked me this. it got so long so it's under a cut but im akfhdh i love unsub maeve arc

okay so she reaches out to spencer because she's been looking for a way to get to the team for a while now, and spencer posting to forums about his migraines was the perfect opportunity. she starts slow - introduces herself as a geneticist, asks to see the brain scans. spencer's so desperate for help he doesn't even ask for credentials, he just sends them to her. what's the worst that can happen, right??

she says she has some ideas, but she needs to talk to him; she needs to get a feel for what sort of lifestyle he's living so that she can figure out the best way to work with it. spencer's immediately overjoyed - someone has an idea of how to help him?? wonderful!! exactly what he needed!! so they start writing letters. she asks about any trauma he's been through in the past. he thinks it's to see if there could be any psychological or physical underlying issues. it's actually so that she can use it against him if need be.

talking about these things just feels so good to him - he's never been able to be so open with someone. but it's for medical purposes, he reasons, meaning that it's not like he's actually talking about it. and then they start talking on the phone. she suggests some vitamins - things she knows won't actually help him with his migraines but also won't hurt. during these phone calls, he pretty much starts using her as a therapist of sorts. and then he learns that she really is incredibly smart and wow she's so funny and oh my god she let's him ramble on and on to his heart's content and oh she's literally perfect.

his headaches become a little less severe. he pins it on the vitamins and the changes in diet and the exercises that she has him doing. he's not necessarily wrong, it is making him healthier. but it's actually due to the decrease in stress. he's not bottling up his emotions anymore. it took a little bit of time but he reaches a point where if he has a difficult case, he picks up the phone and calls maeve, whose credentials he still never asked for because why would he ask for proof when he's literally evidence of her capability himself??

this goes on for a while. spencer partially does actually develop feelings for her, but he mostly just starts associating the lack of pain with her, along with the relief that comes with it. he doesn't realise. she does. it's going exactly to plan.

she tells him about her stalker; says that he's the reason they can't meet; says that it's far too dangerous to get spencer's team involved because i don't want to hurt you and spencer believes it all. why wouldn't he?? he certainly has no reason to believe that they actually can't meet because her plan isn't ready yet, or that the team can't get involved because they'll see beyond the veil that spencer's insecurities have casted and immediately spot the red flags. no, she has no reason to lie to him, why would he ever doubt her?? he loves her, she helps him. and she loves him too, she said so herself. she wouldn't lie to him.

and then one day she gets kidnapped. there's a voice saying zugzwang and she can't answer the phone and oh my god he's going to have to tell the team. so he does. he musters up all the courage he doesn't have and stumbles marches his way into hotch's office, trying to project an air of confidence that's greatly diminished by the overwhelming anxiety coming off of him in waves and he tells his boss everything, from their first meeting to their last conversation.

hotch is skeptical, spencer can tell, but they go through with it anyway. they treat it like a regular case. they think it's the ex-fiance and oh god why didn't she say she was engaged and then they think it's the guy's new girlfriend and they've found where they are, they've figured it out let's go get her!!

and when he gets there he's told to blindfold himself and he does and then he's strapped to a chair and he needs to see her and he finally does and—

i told you we were going to make blindfolds fun again, he hears.

she's standing alone. two bodies in the back - bobby and diane. she had to kill them. bobby was going to expose who she really is and why she really had to disappear from her academic circles and maeve couldn't have people finding out that she was forced to leave after stalking someone to the point of almost getting a restraining order, not after she fought so hard to keep it quiet. and diane - ugh, diane - who stole her boyfriend and wore her clothes without even knowing they were hers. they both had to go.

he stares in shock. he doesn't understand. he came here to save her why is she free why is she stood in front of two dead bodies why is he strapped down to a chair what's happening??

she tells him. she tells him that the bau ruined her life. she tells him that they killed her parents - her real parents, the ones that weren't related to her by blood but through love, the ones who took her in when she was a child who ran away from home. they were serial killers, sure, but they loved her and she loved them. but then the bau came along and ruined their big finale. they didn't get the chance to blow up the people they were meant to, so they blew themselves up. suicide, it technically was. maeve calls it murder. the bau murdered them.

she takes spencer's gun from his hip and fires a shot into the wall, knowing that the team would come running. spencer can't tell them not to, they wouldn't hear him in time. they pile in, seeing maeve holding a detonator in one hand and the gun in the other and they realise, only moments after spencer, that she's rigged the place to blow.

she makes them all put their weapons down and throw them over, as she holds the gun to spencer's head. once the weapons have been dealt with, she throws the one she's holding over with the others and waves the detonator higher, making sure everyone can see it. she tells them that her cells have been dying ever since she returned to her birth parents, never having told them where she was for months and they didn't care enough to ask, because that was the moment she decided she was going to kill herself. she said it happened to her parents too - spontaneous cell death, she called it.

then derek lunges forward. it has such a small chance of working, but it's either this or they all blow up. either way, there's a strong chance they won't make it out. may as well give anything a shot.

he gets the detonator out of her hand by some miraculous luck but before anybody has time to celebrate, she grabs a gun out of the pile and points it to her own head whilst derek's is next to it. if the bullet gets shot, it would kill them both.

it doesn't get shot. spencer's gun does. the one he hides in his ankle holster. the one he grabbed as hotch untied him during the chaos. the one he never told her about because it was such a subconscious act that he never even thought to mention it. he's grateful that he didn't, but not until later. no, right then he doesn't feel anything as his bullet rips through the skull of the woman he loves. or as the gun clatters noisily yet silently to the floor. or as his knees give in and he falls down, staring at the blood pooling from the face he'd never seen in person. she was as beautiful as he had thought. the most beautiful girl in the world. and he had killed her.

#this got SO long #but jesus christ i love it so much i really love unsub maeve #finn answers #taiposting #tw suicide #unsub maeve

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cdroloisms · 4 years

Note

the amount of angst in the post-prison writing you did just gave me massive post-prison dream brainrot and i'm just. sitting here thinking about how sam dealt with the curious looks and glances and having to face what's he's done as a warden. and everyone else's reaction to everything because hey, maybe the prison WAS a torture chamber that nobody deserves to be locked in to be treated like utter trash.

(btw i love your writing and analysis! they give me so much life :DD)

thank you anon!! this universe is ,, Fun ,, im ngl -> have this continuation of it, w/ sapnap and sam!! it’s a bit messy but oh well

(edit: i added these two asks as well bc they fit and i thought it’d be a bit redundant to rewrite this scene lmao -> the implication that dream’s admissions abt exile mightve been the result of ,, torture is. uh. yikes.)

(This one is DARK, please heed the warnings)

TW: PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE (heavy warning for this one), starvation, toxic relationship, manipulation, references to the prison and exile, c!sam/warden!sam critical, violence, blood, dark themes, emotional distress, child abuse, torture

“Be honest,” Sapnap starts, quiet. “What did you do?”

Sam opens his mouth - hesitates, looks away. He should’ve known that his vague words and half-explanations that had been enough to push away most of the crowd - or at least, postpone the conversation for later - wouldn’t have been nearly enough to convince the man standing in front of him, but a part of him must’ve hoped, anyway. He’s not ready to speak, not ready to admit anything to himself, never mind someone else entirely - but ‘ready’ doesn’t matter, not when Sapnap is right here, waiting.

(He ignores how ‘ready’ didn’t matter for Dream when Sam had gone in, that first time, pick in hand and nothing but questions and rage spinning in an endless cycle in his mind, whirling together into something incomprehensible, insatiable, vicious - he’s not thinking about it.

He can’t think about it.)

“Well?” Sapnap’s voice raises, impatience coloring his tone, and it’s almost enough to draw a chuckle to Sam’s lips - he’d always been a little overeager, not doing well with silence, waiting, even as a kid. It’s part of the reason why he got along with Dream so well, Dream jumping at the chance to spend time with someone that didn’t shut him down for rambling and Sapnap simply excited at the chance to have someone that would join him on his hare-brained schemes instead of dismissing him as a dumb kid- and oh. Right.

The scrunch of his face is the same, Sam realizes, absently, as the expression Sapnap had when he was little; it’s the same crease between his eyebrows, the same slight jut to his bottom lip. Even with a new scar decorating his left jaw and the shadows under his eyes and collection of faint wrinkles belying his stress, he doesn’t look all that different - still looks young, a kid playing dress up in armor too big and too war-torn to belong to him. It’s easy to forget, but even after all the wars they’ve fought, even with all of the combat experience he’s had, Sapnap’s still barely twenty - only a few weeks out of being a teenager.

(He crushes the thought of what that makes Dream - he’s not. Thinking. About. It.)

“Hello? Earth to Sam?” Sapnap snaps his fingers in front of his face, and Sam blinks away the memories, the guilt, boxing it up and filing it neatly away to deal with - later. Never, ideally.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Only later is now, there’s no escaping this conversation, and Sam. Really doesn’t want to be talking about this, right now. Sapnap fidgets, leaning on his right foot and then his left and then rocking back again - the feeling is mutual, then, but he knows the look in the younger’s eye well enough to know that neither of them are leaving without an explanation leaving Sam’s lips.

(Netherite and iron and smoke, bloodstained pickaxe tipping up a gaunt face, hand reaching around a too-prominent jawline with bruising force - are you going to answer my question, prisoner? Or are we going to have to do this again?

He’s not-

He can’t-)

“I-,” guilt, thick and heavy, circles his throat, chokes the words rising in his mouth. What can he even say? Can words really capture the sweat-slick desperation, the bubbling lava and heat and smoke stealing away all breath and thought, leaving nothing but a humming buzz of rage burning, hissing, begging for release? Can he really describe the endless darkness and weight settling on his shoulders, the hard edges and jagged fear taking anything soft, anything kind? Words swim in the back of his throat, try to reach his teeth, fall short; bloodstained memories haunt the back of his eyelids every time he blinks; there is so much, too much, to say, and yet nothing at all.

How does he even start?

There is no sympathy on Sapnap’s face when Sam looks, but there isn’t any cruelty either, just dark, watching eyes, lips thin and pressed together, jaw clamped shut, tense. Indifference, or a pale imitation of it, meant to hide the mess of his hair, the tremble in his hands, the helpless, desperate thing growing in his pupils. Sam understands and wishes he doesn’t; regrets, and wonders if he has the right, anymore.

“It- started, as an interrogation,” Sam stumbles over his words, stares at his hands because looking at Sapnap’s face will be too much, is too much. “I was angry. The prisoner- Dream- was desperate. That cell-” he shakes his head, remembers obsidian in his hands, remembers tearing away carpet, paintings, plants, remembers leaving the box bareboned, desolate, a cage and nothing more, “It messes with you. Screws with your head. I knew it, he knew it, but I guess we didn’t realize- I guess I didn’t realize-”

(Blood and crunching bone and shrill screams - tell me what you did to him-)

“I needed information. He wasn’t talking. I got- heated, and he laughed, and something- snapped, I guess.”

(I’ll tell you I’m sorry please please sam stop please)

“All I had on me was a pickaxe. He wasn’t talking, I was desperate - angry - I needed to know. I didn’t-”

(I just knew I needed to drag him away, he was ruining everything, he was destroying everything, I just needed him to leave before he brought down the whole damn server with him - the tnt was supposed to be a one time thing)

“It was supposed to be- one time. Was never supposed to happen, at all. But I guess I got mad - for me? For Tommy? I don’t- I don’t know, and it was- easy, you know? Take away the clock, one day. Give him less potatoes the next.”

(It was easy to do it again, I guess, mess with his invitations a little, take some of his stuff. There was nobody around but me and him and he’d ruined so much, he’d messed everything up - I thought that maybe if I took away his armor enough, he wouldn’t be able to go back. He wouldn’t ruin everything.)

“He’d done- so much. He was so awful to Tommy, to everyone- I thought I could prevent that. I thought maybe if I broke him enough, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again. I renamed the pickaxe Will Breaker, to remind me, to remind him, I don’t know. I-”

Sam laughs, tired, poisonous, ignoring the way Sapnap whispers, stricken, looking at his hands and seeing nothing but red. Dream’s face, bruised, bloody, but glimmering with something almost like satisfaction comes to mind - and oh. Oh.

(Bloodstained teeth twisted in a bitter smile - Sam, I thought I had to.)

He gets it now. He wishes he didn't.

“I thought- ha-” His hand comes up to his face - he’s crying. When did he start crying? ”I thought I had to.”

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helloprettybb · 4 years

Text

first

I feel like I start every fic that I make after a long break the same way. But, I’m back for now. I’m always active on Tumblr, but I never have the motivation to write a full fic. This is Peter Parker x reader and both of them are 18. This may or may not be “inspired by true events.” Also, I apologize for anytime I wrote, “fighting for dominance,” during a kissing scene.

warnings- first kiss awkwardness, cursing, low-key smut, hickey, intense kissing lol, feeling and stuff, choking, CHOKE ME LIKE YOU HATE ME

summary- when peter finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet, he decides to help out... as a friend, of course.

word count- 1.8k

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, not even looking up from his computer. After your second dramatic sigh, Peter finally spared you his attention.

“Just thinking,” you respond vaguely. You’re laying on Peter’s bed, staring at his ceiling.

“Thinking about what?” you tilt your head to see that Peter is still typing on his computer. You roll your eyes at his absentmindedness.

“How in a couple of months I’ll be in college and still haven’t had my first kiss yet.” you admit. At eighteen years old, you’ve never kissed anyone. Unlike everyone else who had their first kiss in middle school, you missed out on that. Granted, you were never asked out or invited to any parties, but you should have kissed someone by now.

This new information finally makes Peter close his laptop. “You haven’t had your first kiss?”

You sit up so you can face him. “I know it’s embarrassing. But no, I’ve never had my first kiss.”

Peter wheels his chair toward you. “Well, I promise you it’s not embarrassing.” he assures. “Some people might find it adorable.”

You laugh, “Adorable? I think it’s stupid.” you flop onto his bed again, “I’m just a pathetic virgin.”

“Hey, you’re not a pathetic virgin.” Peter responds. You sit up on your elbows to glare at him. “You just don’t have much experience. That’s fine. Cool even.” he adds awkwardly.

“It’s not cool or adorable. It’s so lame. At this point, I just want to get it over with.” you confess.

Peter furrows his eyebrows, “Get it over with?”

“Yeah, I don’t want it to mean anything. I’ve waited this long and the longer I wait, the more anticipation will build up. I just need to do it so I won’t have to think about it anymore.” You ramble. Peter looks confused, so you ask, “What?”

“You uh, want to get it over with?” he asks. Peter moves from his desk chair to sit beside you on the bed.

“Yes?” you reply, wondering where he’s going with this.

“What if...” Peter looks away like he’s trying to find the right words. His voice drops and he mumbles, “I kiss you so you can get it over with.” Luckily, you’ve dealt with Peter and his mumbling for years so you heard what he said.

“You’ll kiss me?” you ask, disbelief laced in your voice. Peter Parker, your best friend of seven years, is willing to kiss you just because.

“Yeah, I mean if you want. We don’t have to. It’s just that you said you wanted to get it over with and that it’s been on your mind. So if we kissed, you wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. But I also get how you’d want to have your first kiss with someone you like,” Peter rambles. He averts his eyes as he rambles, having them go everywhere but meet your face.

“Peter,” you say to interrupt his muttering. “That’s fine.”

“It is?” he asks, still nervous.

“Yeah. I trust you and we’re friends, so it won’t be weird.” you reason.

“Okay, okay.” Peter nods. After his agreement, the room fills with awkwardness. Neither of you knows what to do or how to start. The two of you avoid eye contact with each other for almost a minute. You’re about to say something when you look up and see that Peter is moving in.

You have barely enough time to prepare before his lips are meeting yours. Internally, you scream seeing as you’re having your first kiss with Peter Parker and it’s good! You were so caught off guard that your arms are frozen to your sides. You pull away a little and ask Peter, “Uh, what do I do with my hands?”

“Just put them anywhere,” he replies. You awkwardly place your left arm around his shoulder and your right hand lands at the base of his neck. Peter leans in again and this time you’re more ready. This time when your lips meet, it feels like heaven. Peter’s slow and sweet given that it’s your first kiss. He doesn’t go too fast, only occasionally sucking at your lip. He slowly incorporates his tongue and you let out a moan. You would be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so perfect.

Peter’s left hand, which was previously resting on your cheek, moves to lightly trace your chin. You feel him increase the speed and pressure subtly. You don’t mind as you try to keep up, but concede and let him guide you. Before you could lean more into the kiss, he pulls away. He looks at you like he’s expecting you to say something.

“Thanks?” you state almost like a question.

Peter chuckles awkwardly and asks, “Thanks? That’s it?” You lightly slap his arm as he laughs at your embarrassment.

“You know I’m terrible at reacting!” you exclaim. Never have you been so annoyed at your inability to give reactions.

As if he could sense your embarrassment, Peter adds, “Well, you’re actually better than most people.” Surprisingly, you have a reaction at that.

“Really?” you ask incredulously.

“Yeah. The first time I kissed MJ, she ran into me and we hit teeth.” Peter admits and you laugh. He joins in and the lust almost leaves the atmosphere. Then the laughter dies down and an air of confusion fills the room.

You want to ask if you can kiss again, but Peter answers your question when he leans in. You have barely enough time to resume the awkward hand position before you meet his lips. He starts off a little more passionately than before and you wonder if he’s enjoying it as much as you. Peter’s hand moves to the back of your neck. He parts slightly, but still close enough where you could feel his breath on your lips.

“I want to try something,” he whispers. Before you could ask, his mouth trails down your cheek and to the side of your neck. He plants light kisses on your neck and you remember your cousin’s wedding is tomorrow.

“You know, I have to show my neck tomorrow,” you let out breathily. Trying to prevent your worries from overshadowing the moment.

“No marks,” Peter whispers against your neck. He gives a couple of light kisses before adding, “Unless you want one.” You’re not going to have your first kiss and not get a hickey.

“Okay, just under my shirt,” you reply. Peter doesn’t say anything, but you feel him play with the collar of your shirt. You didn’t choose the most flexible shirt to wear, but then again, you didn’t plan on kissing Peter Parker when you woke up today.

You feel him gently tug your collar down before placing lips below your collarbone. He begins to suck and you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You try to card your fingers through his hair, but it’s too short so you settle with caressing the back of his head. Peter doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to give you a hickey.

Once he finishes, Peter pulls away slightly to look at you. Not wanting to be trapped in a weird conversation, you take initiative and put him towards you. Peter’s lips meet yours and you passionately make out. His right hand moves from your chin to the back of your head. He moves his fingers into your hair and gently tugs. To your disappointment, he only does that once before moving back to cup your chin. His left hand lightly trails the side of your neck. You continue to kiss as you feel his hand slowly make its way around your neck. He gives a tentative squeeze and you sigh lightly. You never thought you’d be into choking, but today you were learning wildly new things about yourself.

Peter tries again, but for a couple more seconds and you let out another breathy sigh. He releases his grip before tightening around your neck. This time, Peter keeps his hand there until you feel a euphoric lightheadedness. Peter chokes you a couple more times, with you moaning loudly frequently. You begin to worry that you’re the only one making noise, but Peter starts groaning against your lips.

You feel your nerves building and insecurities piling so you focus on Peter and his essence. His faint cologne and the light taste of coffee distract you from any concerns you previously had. You think that you have the lead so you pull him closer to you. But once he feels your eagerness, Peter responds quickly by pinning you to the wall. You tilt your head back as he passionately kisses you with a couple of bites in between. Your lip is probably fucked, but you love it.

You feel Peter’s right hand travel down while his left remains under your chin. It rests at your lower back for a moment before going beneath your shirt. His gentle touch sends a chill down your spine as he rubs circles on your lower back. He stays there for seconds or maybe minutes. Ever since the first kiss, you have had a skewed sense of time.

Peter’s hand moves from your back to the front of your body. It snakes under your bra and you feel him flick your nipple. You gasp at the feeling and he continues to play with your tit. You’ve never been so relieved that May is away as the room fills with lewd sounds from both of you.

Peter retracts his hand from underneath your shirt and returns to your lower back. You think he’s going to move back to your neck, but his hand goes down to your ass. He cups it and you both moan.

You think he’s going to stop at your ass, but you feel his hand smooth over your jeans and end at your inner thigh. He gives a light squeeze before pulling apart and asking, “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, sounding and looking like a mess, but you don’t care. Peter Parker wanted you and right now, you wanted him, too. After you gave him the word, Peter quickly undid your jeans and dipped his hands until his fingers met your clit. You gasped when he started rubbing gentle circles.

Peter cupped your face with his other hand as he continues to play with your clit. You felt him pull away and open your eyes. You make eye contact with Peter and he starts rubbing your clit faster. Before you could moan too loud, you pull him back to your lips to quiet yourself.

Peter and your groans fill the room as you feel your climax growing. Your head falls onto his left shoulder as you grip Peter’s bicep. Sensing your desperation, he whispers, “I know you’re close, baby. Cum for me.”

“Fuck,” you gasp when you cum. Peter rides you through your orgasm, before pulling his hands out of your pants.

As you zip your jeans, Peter asks, “Was that okay?”

#Peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #Peter Parker smut #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #marvel #marvel imagines

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