#I’m debating about going back and telling them neither pair are working and asking for a refund

[raeathnos]

.

[simjaexy]

They Can’t Love Me Like You!

Pairing: Ex! Sim Jaeyun x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: After your break up with Jake after thinking he wasn’t enough for you, you find out that he was just the right person that can love you the way you want to be loved.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warning: Cursing (lmk if I missed any)

Notes: This took such a while for me to make because I was debating on Jay or Jake (lmk if you want a Jay version!). Enjoy :)

Your twirled your fork in your spaghetti and let out a sigh of boredom. For the last hour your date was just talking his brains off about his new car he just bought that cost more than a house.

As much as that would have been to your liking, it wouldn’t be for the fact that he hasn’t even asked how you’ve been doing or asking questions about you.

You put your fork down and rubbed your forehead, not caring about a word he was saying.

“And then the wheel totally-“ “Where do you work again?” You cut him off. His eye went wide like you just said the most outrageous thing.

“O-Oh uh I’m a Pilot.” He replied. A pilot that talks so much about cars? You hummed and pushed your hair back. It was silent for a few seconds until you spoke.

“Well how about you ask me a question?” You said.

“Oh! Uh, do you have kids?” He questioned.

You shook your head, “I don’t plan on having kids anytime soon.” You admitted. He nodded and took a bit out of his spaghetti.

“Well me neither. Looks like we’re compatible for each other.” He chuckled. You gave him a tight smile.

“I don’t really like talking about cars often.” You spoke. He laughed.

“Right. Girls aren’t really interested in them. Can never find one that does.” He said. You couldn’t tell if what he said was offensive or something.

You furrowed your brows and crossed your arm, “Well you can never really find a guy that doesn’t talk about cars the whole time while on a date.” You murmured.

He stopped chewing on his food and gave you a confused look. The waitress came and gave you guys your bill which you immediately thanked and gave the bill to your date before standing up and grabbing your purse.

“Where are you going?” Your date asked. You gave him a look.

“Somewhere that doesn’t talk about cars for a living.” You snapped. You walked away leaving him with the bill leaving him flabbergasted.

You walked out the fancy restaurant tired and ready to go to sleep in your comfy bed. You went inside your car and scoffed. The fact that he didn’t even give you a ride here just pissed you off even more.

You started your car and headed home.

Waking up to the sun shining your face caused you to let out a tired groan. You didn’t even shower last night and knocked right into bed.

You groggily got up and went to the bathroom and started to strip off your clothes. You turned on the shower and stepped inside.

The warm water hit your body as you let out a sigh. The tension in your body easing down. You grabbed shampoo and began to scrub it in your scalp.

The flowery scent entering your nose. You washed off the shampoo and put on conditioner and then body wash.

You stopped the shower water and stepped out, putting your hair up and putting yourself in a robe.

You went downstairs after getting changed and saw your dog, Kiwi sleeping on the coach. You cooed at her and kissed her head making her lick your face.

You opened the cabinet to eat something. You decided to get a bag of chips and eat those.

As you were eating your chips you phone made a ping sound. You looked at it and noticed it was your friend that sent a message.

Hanni: Photo Attachment

Hanni: Is that Jake?

You stared close at the photo she sent you. It was a photo of Jake with a group of friends. He changed so much since the last time you saw him. His hair grew out and his jawline looks sharper.

You almost choked on your food when you read the caption.

Glad to finally be back in Korea! 🔥

Your jaw dropped. Since when did he leave Korea? Why’d he leave? You had so much thoughts running through your head you didn’t notice Hanni texted you.

Hanni: If that’s Jake I hate to break it to you but you definitely fumbled him 😭

You let out a laugh.

You: I know, you don’t gotta bring it up :(

You hearted her message and put your phone down. You couldn’t believe Jake left and not hear a word about it. Were you that much into your own life not knowing what the person you once knew left?

You put the chips back and got dressed to go out. You weren’t an inside person and craved the outside world. Going shopping sounds fun anyways.

You put Kiwi on her leash and took her out the door. You headed out to your car and out Kiwi in the passenger seat before getting into the drivers seat.

You petted Kiwi one last time before driving to the mall.

Once you made it to the mall you took Kiwi out the car and went inside. You saw multiple people hanging out with friends or parents. Little kids messing around with each other.

You walked into a perfume store and looked around to look for your current perfume. You looked down at Kiwi and saw her looking back at you with her big eyes.

You smiled and continued sniffing the perfumes. You grabbed the one you currently had and put it on the cashier table. The lady came up and scanned it, telling you the price.

You took out your wallet and gave her the money. She took the money and put the receipt in the bag and gave it to you.

You thanked her and headed out the store. You continued walking around the stores, occasionally stopping at some that caught your interest.

You stopped at a particular store that had animal products and looked down at Kiwi.

“You need new nail clippers.” You muttered. Kiwi just stared at you.

You walked into the store and gave the cashier a wave. You went to the essentials center and browse for nail clippers. You caught a glimpse of a few, but one strikes your attention.

You leaned in to grab it, but a hand beat you to it.

“Hey I was gonna-“

You stopped talking when you saw who it was. Sim Jaeyun. You felt your throat go dry why Jake gave you a surprised look.

“Y/n?” He said. You felt your heart skip a beat hearing his voice. It was a buy deeper than the last time you heard him.

“Oh, uh, hey Jake?” You replied. He looked down at Kiwi and smiled.

“Aw you still have Kiwi.” He said. He bended down to which Kiwi immediately put her two front paws on his thigh, panting heavy. You could tell she missed him by the way she keeps licking his hand.

You nodded you head while he petted her, “Yeah, my mom couldn’t afford her anymore so I just took her with me.” You admitted. Jake smiled up at you.

“I’m glad you kept her.” He chimed. He looked down and rubbed Kiwis head. You cleared your throat.

“How about Layla? How’d she doing?” You asked. He stared up at you and stood up.

“Layla doing fine. She learned a few more tricks here and there, but most of all she’s happy I’m back.” He commented. Your mouth formed an ‘o’.

“That’s right. I heard you came back from somewhere? Where’d you go?” You questioned. You knew you sounded nosy, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he’s in front of you again.

“I went back to Australia to see my brother and his fiancé. They had a wedding.” He said.

“Oh wow that’s amazing. Tell him I said congratulations!” You marveled. He gave you a grin.

“I will.” He said. It was silent before Jake cleared his throat.

“Well I should get going. And- oh! Did you want this?” He added. You looked down and saw the nail clippers.

“Oh! No you can keep them.” You smiled. Jake gave you a suspicious look.

“Are you sure? These are the best ones.” He said. You shook your head at the offer.

“You can have them. It was nice meeting you Jake.” You rejoiced. Jake gave you a smile.

“You too Y/n.” He said. He turned around and left. You let out a sigh. Jesus he’s gotten hotter. You don’t think you ever laid eyes on that much of an attractive guy.

You grabbed a random nail clipper and went up to the cashier. After they gave you the bag you went out the store and decided it was time to go home.

You looked down at Kiwi when walking to the parking lot.

“You really missed him huh Kiwi?” You joked. Kiwi let out a bark. You laughed.

“For some reason, I missed him too.”

“Maybe you should just add him on a social and go from there?” Hanni insisted. Currently you and Hanni were at a Cafe to get a brunch, but after telling her that you met Jake, she started talking about random ways to get back to him.

“It’s not that easy. He probably doesn’t feel the same anymore. I mean, I did break up with him just because I thought he wasn’t enough for me.” You said. You felt guilt in your chest whenever you talked about your guy’s relationship.

“I know, but what if he still feels the same?” She replied. You shook your head and took a sip from your iced french vanilla. Hanni frowned.

“You should give it a try Y/n. Besides, after all the dates you went on, not one ever made you feel a way Jake did.” She said. You hated how she was right, but it was too late.

You already ruined your relationship with him. As much he was nice to you at the shop doesn’t mean he’s willing to give it another try.

You just continued eating without saying anything else. Hanni did the same.

Here you are staring at your phone in your room for minutes. You have Jake’s instagram but don’t have the courage to follow him. What if he doesn’t follow you back?

You felt like you should ask for Hanni opinion but you know what shrek say. So, holding your breath you hit follow.

You threw your phone on the pillow and dropped on the floor. Kiwi came front he door and barked at you.

“I did it Kiwi. Do you think he’ll-“

Ping!

You didn’t finish your sentence and threw yourself where your phone was at.

Jake_Sim followed you back!

You squealed and put your phone back. You didn’t expect him to follow you right away.

Ping!

You stared up confused and grabbed your phone.

Jake_Sim liked your photo!

You clicked the notification and saw he liked the recent photo of you in your bathing suit at the beach. You felt yourself blushing. You saw you got a message and clicked on it.

Jake_Sim: Hey Y/n :)

You: Hey! Sorry if it’s weird that I just followed you randomly

Jake_Sim: Oh no worries! I was actually gonna follow you too. Just didn’t know when haha

You: Really?

Jake_Sim: Yeah yk just to catch up with each other

You: Yeah right lol

Jake_Sim: Okay I’ll talk to you later! I’m a bit busy rn 😅

You: No worries. Bye Jake :)

Jake_Sim: Bye :)

You put your face down i. your pillow and screamed. How can you be so awkward through phone? You looked up at Kiwi. She lay her body down, staring up at you.

You smiled at her, “I’m really embarrassing Kiwi.” You said. She yawned and closed her eyes.

You went downstairs and grabbed a glass to fill up with water. You chugged it down and put it in the sink.

You went back upstairs and changed and tucked yourself in bed with Kiwi.

The next day you woke up with Kiwi licking your face. You hummed and pat her on the head. She jumped off the bed as you took out your phone. You noticed a message from Jake and clicked on it.

Jake_Sim: Hey Y/n I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? I wanna catch up with you :)

You blushed. Jake wants to talk to you? You replied back with quick fingers.

You: Sure I’d love too! What time?

You saw the three dots pop up almost immediately before going back down and coming back up again.

Jake_Sim: We can go to a recent park that opened. I heard it’s nice there! Does 1:30 sound good for you?

You checked the time. twelve fourty-five. You bit your lip.

You: That sound like a plan! See you then!

Jake_Sim: :)

You put your phone back and went towards your closet. You scanned around your closet to look for an outfit. Since it was pretty nice out you thought a dress would be cute.

You put on a nice short blue flower printed floral dress and wore white shoes. You braided your hair and took some strands out. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled.

You put on some light makeup to add on and grabbed a purse for your essentials. You twirled around and looked at Kiwi.

“Do I look cute Kiwi?” You said. Kiwi barked and wagged her tail. You smiled and kissed her head.

You breathed in and out waiting for Jake. You felt a bit nervous. Did you dress too much? Did you overdo it?

You ignored your thoughts and continued waiting while looking at the time. one twenty-eight. You were really hoping he was gonna come.

You stared back up and saw Jake. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a gold chain and ripped jeans with black shoes. He was holding a black jacket with his left arm. He looked breathtaking to you.

He gave you a smile and waved. You waved back and went towards him.

“Wow Y/n you look stunning.” Jake beamed. you felt your face turning red. You touched your hair bashfully.

“Thank you Jake. You look handsome.” You replied. He chuckled.

“Thank you. Would you like to walk or do you wanna sit?” He asked. You shrugged.

“Whatever you wanna do. I don’t mind either.” You said.

“I know how much you love flower crowns. So we can do that while we sit.” He commented. Your eyes widened.

You’ve always done that when you guys were in a relationship. You felt your heart beating fast that he remembered that from long ago. You softly smiled.

“I’d love that.”

He took his hand out, “Come on. I know where to go.” He said. You slowly took his hand and that’s when he started leading you.

You walked along a trail that had full trees and full of butterflies. You couldn’t help but be wooed by the beautiful view. You both walked past a bench before heading up the hill where there was multiple flowers.

There was different kind of flowers. Sunflowers, daisies, and dandelions. He took you a hit higher before letting go of your hand making you yearn for the contact again.

He sat down and patted right next to him. You sat down and picked a flower, “Do you remember how to make them?” You asked. Jake scoffed.

“Of course I do. This was one of my favorite hobbies we did.” He teased. You laughed and began to go one by one putting a flower inside another. Jake doing the same.

You stopped when you felt like it was big enough and softly tied the end. You saw noticed Jake was done too. He stared over at you and scooted closer to you.

He signaled you to put your head down. You put your head down and waited. He put the flower on your head lightly and lifted your head up with his finger under your chin.

“You look beautiful.” He breathed. You smiled. He lowered his finger and put his head down. You took your flower crown and your put it in his head.

He smiled and looked up at you. You giggled, “You look like a prince.” You joked. Jake laughed and put a hand on your knee.

“Then would you be the princess?” He inquired. You let out a breathy laugh.

“If that means I could kiss you.” You said. Jake stopped laughing and looked at you with a look. Shit. You didn’t even mean to say that. It just slipped out your mind.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-“

“It’s fine. We should continue going around the park.” He interrupted. He stood up and started walking down the hill, leaving you there. I really messed up.

You stood up and followed Jake on to the sidewalk. He slowed down his walking to match your pace. It was silent for a few minutes before he pointed at something.

“Hey look! There’s an ice cream truck.” He said. You liked to where he was pointed and saw an ice cream truck.

You both went towards it and ordered your ice cream. Before you took out you your wallet Jake stopped you.

“Let me.” He insisted. He took out his wallet and gave the man the money. He gave you both your ice cream to Jake. You bid him goodbye while walking away.

Jake gave you your ice cream. You licked it and hummed.

“It’s really good!” You marveled. Jake chuckled.

You both continued eating your ice cream while saying jokes to each other and playfully pushing each other.

The day soon came to an end with the sun setting down. You felt like you were with him for hours. And you didn’t mind any of it.

You were both slowly walking with each other. With Jake’s jacket wrapped around you.

“I had fun today.” You admitted. Jake gave you a delighted look.

“I’m glad you did. I did too. We should do this again sometime.” He said. You nodded.

Once you both made it to your apartment you stopped walking.

“Jake I-“

Before you could finish you felt plush lips making contact with your soft ones. You gasped as he held onto your face with both of his hands.

The kiss lasted for only a second before you both parted ways. Both of you gasped for air.

“Jake.” You breathed out. He pressed his forehead against yours.

“I really hope that you meant what you said when we were on the hill.” He whispered. You hummed.

“I meant every word of it. You were the only one for me Jake. I’m sorry I broke up with you. I-I just never felt so loved and it felt-“

“It’s okay Y/n. I forgiven since the moment I saw you.” He muttered. You felt your eyes brim with tears.

“I’m sorry Jake.”

“I love you Y/n.” He said. He pecked your lips. You chuckled and pulled him back into another kiss.

“I love you too, Jake.” You assured. He grinned at you before kissing your cheek.

Even though you guys ended on a bad note the last time, you promise you won’t end this one for nothing. Besides, no one else can love you like Sim Jaeyun does.

[pixiedane]

Hi!! I’m sure you’ve done one of your pairing things for Spock/Chapel, I was wondering if you could link it! <3

Hello! I actually have not yet, so here you go:

Let's assume everything that happens in SNW (including everything we have yet to see) and everything that happens in TOS happens exactly as we see it.

Post the five year mission (TOS), both Spock and Christine are overwhelmed with ~feelings~ (for each other and in general) and decide they need to Work On Themselves. Spock runs away to Vulcan to pursue Kohlinar and Christine runs away to Earth to pursue an MD. Christine succeeds but Spock does not. As much as Spock finds emotional entanglements extremely inconvenient and generally painful, he can't give them up. Despite all his attempts to convince his Vulcan mentors, and himself, otherwise: he loves Jim Kirk, he loves McCoy and Uhura, he loves his mother, and he loves Christine. He also genuinely cares about people, all people. So he fails to achieve Kohlinar and returns to the Enterprise and his friends, his loved ones.

Post his return to Starfleet (TMP), he starts teaching at the Academy and settles on Earth. Dr. Chapel now works at Starfleet Medical and thus they're in the same city and the same circles. One day they're both having lunch in the crowded Fleet cafeteria and end up sharing a table.

They catch up. Spock lists everything he's gone through in the last few years and slowly realizes Christine already knows. She laughs and says, Spock you're the most famous person in Starfleet and also Dr. McCoy loves to gossip. Spock finds that accurate and logical and they share a small smile. Christine launches into her own rundown but Spock indicates he already knows, too. He compliments her recent research paper. You read it? He says of course and that he knows all about the research trip it grew out of. She's flattered and blushing. He reminds her that Dr. McCoy loves to gossip and she laughs, of course, ha ha, but beneath the words she knows that Mccoy wouldn't 'gossip' to Spock about her unless it got an emotional response from him.

Their lunch is very pleasant but neither knows how to say so, or how to end it. Christine thinks she's too old to be so awkward and after all this time, and yet! Eventually Spock mentions a conference coming up, she confirms she's speaking at it and he says he looks forward to hearing her talk. They part ways.

Three-ish weeks later, she walks out on stage to give her seminar and Spock's in the front row with a handful of cadets he offered extra credit for attendance. The talk is well received, one of Spock's cadets asks a great question and afterwards Christine suggests she join her lab. Christine says she's going to hear a colleague and Spock asks if he may accompany her. She says of course and they end up spending the day together attending talks, speaking with student presenters, and having in depth conversations about the science over meals. Spock remembers Christine's favorite cocktail at the reception and they take public transportation back to San Francisco in order to elongate the evening.

This continues for approximately two years (the time between TMP and Wrath of Khan is up for debate but let's say it's TMP+a 5 year mission before Spock starts at the Academy so 2-3 years on Earth with Christine). They are close friends with deep feelings for each other. With their history and their age and their busy lives and all the complications of human vs Vulcan feelings and norms they don't (re)start any kind of traditional romance. They are comfortable and they are happy.

Then Spock hands Admiral Kirk the Enterprise to head out on an important classified mission that results in Spock's death. Christine is heartbroken. They were in such a good place. Their past didn't haunt them, their future was bright. She is So Angry — at Kirk because he's the reason Spock left and the reason it all happened, at Uhura because she's the one who told her, at McCoy because he wasn't the one to tell her, at Spock for being so perfectly good all the time. But mostly at herself for not telling Spock how important he was to her, for not keeping him with her or going with them, for not stopping it from happening. All her survivor's guilt comes back, and all her resentment that Spock can only ever be Spock. She loves him for it but it makes everything harder, always. Of course Spock sacrificed himself to save the crew, a crew of his friends and his students, how can she be angry at that?

Then she learns that Leonard McCoy has been admitted to Starfleet psychiatric. She goes to him immediately, uses her rank and connections to get in and give him her own assessment. She finds a man who is doubly familiar. He's McCoy one minute, begging her to get him out, and then he looks at her in a way that only one person ever looked at her and it shakes her to her core. Suddenly he's referencing conversations from twenty years ago, from before McCoy or Kirk were even on the Enterprise. It's terrible but also wonderful but so terrible. She promises to come back the next day and as soon as she leaves she puts in a call to the Vulcan embassy, to Ambassador Sarek. He's out, but she leaves a message and they set up a meeting for her.

The next day Kirk and friends break McCoy out and abscond with the Enterprise and she vows to give Kirk a piece of her mind the next time she sees him. She throws herself into work to avoid thinking about the fate of her friends and how she's been left behind again. It helps to imagine punching Jim in the face. She keeps her meeting with Sarek and is surprised to learn Spock told him about her. They get on quite well and he promises to tell her what he learns. She's the second person he calls after the successful reunification of Spock's body and katra, after only Amanda.

Sarek returns to Earth ahead of the crew in order to make the case for leniency. Christine greets him and offers to help in whatever way she can. They strategize for hours for days but just as things get started Earth is under attack. And just as things get dire, a Klingon bird of prey with two whales shows up to turn the tide (literally). Sarek and Christine's trial prep isn't needed because Jim Kirk and crew are the heroes we need always. She still wants to punch Jim, but hugs him instead.

Some weeks after The Incident With the Whales, Spock's door whooshes open to reveal Christine. Taylor Swift starts playing as he invites her in. She starts babbling immediately, says she's sorry to throw all her human emotions at him but losing him broke her, knowing he died alone, knowing they'd left so much unsaid for so long and if this is her chance to make it up to him she's going to take it. You are the love of my life, she says, but more than that you make my life better, you make me better, even when you're not in it. Spock is quiet, listening, watching. He reaches out, touches her cheek, brushes a tear falling down it, and she smiles into the touch, and murmurs thank you for listening and starts to turn away and leave. His hand drops from her cheek to her wrist and he says, Stay.

Christine becomes Spock's lighthouse. He goes where he's needed, he follows Jim Kirk to the ends of the galaxy and beyond, he brokers peace with the Federation's enemies (he tells Christine she doesn't have to come to dinner with the Klingons this time, but when they do actually come to an accord, she's proud of him), and then he comes back to her light. Eventually they get married. Christine thinks she's too old to be a bride, it's silly, old fashioned, and unnecessary, but Sarek convinces her to go along. The ceremony is on Vulcan and attended by their friends and former students, including Jack Crusher I, who brought his bff/bf Jean-Luc as his plus one.

Christine dies many years before Spock. The Vulcans say she doesn't have a katra, or at least not one that can be preserved the way a Vulcan's would, but Spock carries her with him. She's with him on Romulus. She's with him when he watches Vulcan explode in the past of a whole other universe. She's with him when he finds Jim Kirk again. She's with him when he helps rebuild his community. And she's with him when he dies and his katra is set free on New Vulcan.

Spock leaves his belongings to the younger Spock of his present universe. Along with photos of his crew, he leaves recordings of his memories. Spock keeps them safe and mostly secret (he tells Jim, Nyota, and Sarek) until his own old age and death. He bequeaths the recordings to Ensign Bradward Boimler with instructions to publish the other Spock's memoirs now that they can no longer interfere with the timeline. Boimler is extremely confused but Mariner talks him around by telling him Spock must know something they don't and also who turns down the assignment to write altenate universe history about someone as famous as SPOCK. Boimler rises to the occasion (Mariner helps) and the memoir is a success. Its dedication reads:

For Christine.

[ridiasfangirlings]

middle school sarumi are given an egg to take care of for homework, thing is, the teacher tries to group them separately with girls at first, but the two refuse. Things escalate to an lgbt rights debate in the classroom (note, neither yata or saru are participating at all or even know what everyone is talking about) and eventually, they are allowed to do the project together, unaware that the school's view on same sex couples adopting children depends on them

they break the egg on the first day

(yes this is inspired by the south park egg episode, come on class lets rip on the freak egg two daddies two daddies)

I doubt their school cares that much about gay rights and the class probably would be more than happy to let the two unpopular people raise an egg baby together, honestly I’m mostly here for middle school Sarumi egg baby experiment XD Like imagine their class is told they’re all going to split up into pairs and raise a baby egg for like a week. It’s intended that the pairs should each be one girl and one boy but of course Yata starts getting light-headed about the very idea of pairing up with a girl and having a (egg) baby and Fushimi isn’t interested in working with anyone else at all. The teacher tries to get them to pair up with girls and Yata just shakes his head wildly and grabs Fushimi’s arms like can’t I pair up with Saruhiko, Fushimi doesn’t react at all and just continues looking bored. The teacher sighs like these two are going to be handful aren’t they but he eventually gives in (also maybe this is like same timeline as that one ask from a while back where everyone thinks Yata and Fushimi are dating anyway and the teacher doesn’t want to get another angry call from Yata’s mom lecturing him about diversity and inclusion). 

 So they get their little egg in a basket and I imagine Yata is very pumped to take care of this little guy, he draws glasses on it and starts calling it Tamagohiko until Fushimi threatens to just break it over his head. Yata’s like how could you suggest doing that to our son and Fushimi just rolls his eyes all it’s an egg you moron, if we break it we can just buy a new one at the store. Yata’s eyes get all wide and then he grins because he didn’t even think of it that way, Fushimi’s like just don’t break it in a place the teacher can see. Yata’s like we won’t need a new one anyway, I’m gonna take care of our kid. They end up walking back to Yata’s place together and imagine the moment they get in the door Minoru runs into them and the egg goes flying, making a splat on the carpet. Yata gets this devastated look as Minoru bursts into tears and Yata’s mom peers into the room like Misaki don’t throw food.

One trip to the grocery store later and they have a new egg, safely ensconced in a nice secure basket with a seatbelt that Fushimi put together. As part of the egg experiment they have to make a diary of how they’re taking care of their egg (Yata omits the untimely death of Tamagohiko the First), like pretend feeding and enrichment and baths and stuff. Yata figures they can take turns taking the egg home but Fushimi refuses and tells Yata to do it, Yata’s like wait you’re gonna make me a single dad. Fushimi looks away and mumbles quietly that he isn’t going to go home anyway and Yata suddenly realizes that with Fushimi’s…family situation it’s probably best if he takes care of the egg. Yata sighs and is like fine I’ll watch our kid overnight and you can watch him at school. 

This leads to Fushimi having to carry the basket around at school all day, imagine at lunch they’re on the roof and Fushimi keeps looking at the egg while Yata’s pretending to feed it snacks. Fushimi rolls his eyes and says it’s just an egg you idiot, Yata’s like don’t talk about our kid that way. Then Yata’s eyes shine as he’s like hey let’s buy it some clothes or something, to show that stupid teacher what good parents we are. Throwing money at a child you don’t care about is a part of parenting that Fushimi understands so he buys some cheap plushie clothes that they’re able to fit on their egg, Yata grins like we really are awesome parents huh. Fushimi pokes the egg and shrugs, mumbling that at least Yata didn’t break it again. 

Finally they have to turn in their ‘kids’ at the end of the experiment, Yata is like crying while Fushimi just gives him a withering look. After all the teasing and people making comments about them being the only same sex egg parents though the teacher is actually surprised by how thorough their egg diary is, Yata probably put all kinds of things in there like ‘Took a bath with Tamagohiko, he’s an awesome little dude!’ and ‘Saruhiko bought a bunch of clothes for our kid, I think they’re finally bonding.’ This is the first time Yata has ever gotten a high score on an assignment and he’s thrilled, like look Saruhiko we’re good at something, while Fushimi clicks his tongue and says Yata did most of the work anyway. Yata’s like no I didn’t, you really helped, you were a great co-parent. Fushimi looks away at that but there’s a little flutter in his stomach, like maybe he actually did a good job taking care of something. 

[dongfuck]

Your Body - l.dh

pairing: enemy!haechan x fem reader

genre: smut, angst

warnings: pwp/porn without plot, hate sex, oral (m, f), edging, mentions of alcohol, degradation, fingering, pussy slapping, slight boob play if you squint, kissing, unprotected sex, top to bottom/start to finish: pure filth

wc: 2.0k

note: y’all just have to listen to saturday drip while reading this. i swear it just hits different.

no matter how much you hated one another, neither of you seemed to get enough of each other’s bodies.

he, donghyuck, loved the way you felt with your walls around him. clenching every now and then. loved the way you grab his hands to press them on your lower abdomen just to have him feel himself inside you. loved the way you swallow every bit of him without leaving a single drop. loved the way you look straight into his eyes whenever you pleased him. loved the way you immediately drop to your knees without being asked twice. there was only one thing he wasn’t very fond of, which was simply… you. your personality, your attitude, the way you talk. yes, he does admit you’re quite pretty but that only adds to the list of things he hates about you.

you on the other hand isn’t quite different from donghyuck himself. he’s just too good at satisfying you that you can’t help but call him over almost every time you’re having a hard time pleasuring yourself, which fuels his ego even more. you do get embarrassed at times because of the fact that you simply can’t cum without thinking at least once about the mentioned boy but like i said, it just can’t be helped.

today was just like any other day, with your head between his thighs and his hand gripping your head firmly as he let out another grunt of pleasure. “fuck— keep going…” he had his eyes shut and mouth apart so prettily that you could’ve sworn you came on the spot at the sight. “y/n i— i think— wait… g-get off— fuck!” his thighs were starting to shake the moment you swirled your tongue on the tip, sucking on it occasionally. his grip on your head had became tighter over time but you weren’t complaining, the pain only adds to your pleasure.

you were debating whether to let him cum or to see him fume with rage when you release him. figuring that the latter option was probably the most entertaining, you did just that. letting go of him with an audible ‘pop!’ followed by a string of saliva connecting his cock to your lips. the look on his fucked out face when he looked at you was priceless. so much that you almost snickered right in his face. “you—” he pulled you onto his lap with his hands on your waist. “what? you told me to get off, didn’t you?” you sat up on his left thigh in attempts of intimidating him with your size difference. not that it worked though.

he looked at you with an impatient look, as if he was waiting for you to do something. “don’t look at me like that.” you glared at him. “do something then.” said donghyuck with his head tilted slightly. “go on. i’m waiting.” you looked around the dark room with nervousness mixed with a hint of fear as the smell of vodka intruded your lungs. “is little y/n too shy to make a move? scared of making a mistake?” he laughed in a mocking manner at you, throwing his head back momentarily. allowing you to take in the sight of his hard dick bouncing against his stomach. he probably noticed where you were looking at but decided to not address it straight forwardly and instead moving onto gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his lust-filled eyes.

“weren’t you just the horniest little bitch just a minute ago, hm?” he lowered his voice by an octave when he spoke to you again, “what happened to that?” his face was much closer to yours now, which resulted to you swiftly turning your head away from him out of instinct. “i-i didn’t mean to i sw—” too late is the right word for it. you were too fucking late when he already had you face first on the bed that has been through too much. “what did i tell you last week about turning away from me? were you even listening?” his voice was calm but, although you couldn’t see him, you knew the look he had on his face wasn’t.

you decided mentally that staying quiet was probably the best option at the moment and so you did. you kept your lips shut the whole time and just letting him do whatever he wants with you. “do you even deserve to cum now?” he traced a finger between your wet folds, your entire body shivering in response. what were you supposed to do now? should you just keep quiet for the rest of the night? “so you’re not speaking at all now, huh? turned mute?”

noticing your lack of response, he slapped you across your sex, earning a high pitched shriek from you. “now that i think about it, maybe it’s better that way,” he let go of you almost as if he was thinking about something before turning you to lay facing him. “if i hear you make a single sound, you’re not getting anything for the rest of the week.” now this was torture. you weren’t gonna last not getting dick at least twice a week. you aren’t even sure he was gonna touch you at this point. “understood?” asked donghyuck with his eyebrows raised, which you nodded at. “good. now close your eyes.”

you simply followed his order before feeling a pair of soft lips on yours. ‘this was a once in a lifetime experience’ you thought. donghyuck had never kissed you before. well maybe he did once but the both of you regretted it immediately. you were gonna push him away but he had your arms pinned above your head so you couldn’t do anything but lay flat on the bed. “kiss me back.” he said between kisses. you hesitated for a long second before lifting your head up slightly to deepen the kiss.

the smooch ended very much abruptly by hyuck pulling away with swollen lips. “never again.” he wiped them with the back of his hand before diving into the valley of your breasts which almost had you squealing. your hands were already released from his hold by then. he moved quickly to the centre of your figure and started licking the skin. you were already squirming at this point but you were reminded of the warning hyuck had given and had to restrain yourself from making any noise. he probably wanted to push you even more to the edge because right as you stopped moving, he lowered himself until he was, finally, face to face with your glistening heat.

he lifted his head to look over your breasts and watch your reactions as he dipped a tongue shallowly into your clenching hole. “fuck…” your voice was so low that he’d almost miss it but much to your misfortune, he hadn’t. he raised a hand that was previously on your waist to your parted lips to supposedly quiet you down since a week without getting pussy for him was hell as much as it was you. to add a little more pressure, you took your own hand and placed it above hyuck’s, pressing on it lightly.

he placed kitten licks on your pussy as his fore and middle finger graced your clit. it didn’t take long for him to finally take the same two fingers and stuff them into you. the two of you moaning in unison at the feeling (yours inaudible to donghyuck). he started off slow, pulling and pushing at a steady pace. though, it was too slow to fill your needs. you took the hand that was on his and tugged at his locks, hoping he’d get the hint. which he did.

hyuck pulled his fingers out (of you) before mounting your small figure with a gaze that could tear you into pieces. “want something else?” you felt his dick going over your wetness and back up to your clit where you released a small moan into his palm. he felt the heat from it, that’s for sure, but paid it no mind to it whatsoever. at his question, you nodded your head softly in hopes of him finally having the heart to once and for all fuck you.

“okay.”

‘well that was easy’ you had that look plastered on your face but it was (thankfully) concealed by his hand. not wasting any more time, he laid himself on top of you before slipping his length into you. the hand that was once covering half of your face was now placed on your waist, giving you access to breathe properly again. hyuck didn’t give you any time to adjust before setting his own pace and pounding into you mercilessly.

at this point you didn’t care about whatever rules he’d set and he didn’t seem like he did either. the two of you were fully enjoying the feeling of each other’s warmth and wouldn’t let go even if the house was set on fire. no, sorry, that was an exaggeration. the lot of you wouldn’t let go of one another even if you were late for work.

his hips that didn’t seem like it was gonna stop any time soon gave you pure bliss that you felt like you were about to pass out. his throbbing cock that was forced in and out of you was everything you’d ever needed ever since you first felt it… which was honestly an accident. you knew you weren’t gonna last long so you silently tapped at his shoulder as you let out strangled moans. “hyuck…” you had your lips sealed so tight that you think you’d felt tears running down your hot cheek. you heard a hum coming from the boy in front of you when a drop of sweat fell from his chin to your chest.

“i’m— fuck— i’m close…” you warned. your own hips moving to match his pace. “cum for me.” he spoke through ragged breaths and at that moment you knew he wasn’t gonna last either. hyuck’s pace started to become sloppy and with that you came right in the middle of his nth thrust while groans and moans filled the room.

pulling out of you, he placed his cock into his palm and started stroking himself before prodding the tip between your swollen red lips. “open up will ya,” at his command, your lips were pushed apart and soon he was fucking your throat into the mattress so roughly that you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise right under your uvula. you tried to stop yourself from gagging too much, but failed miserably as saliva started running down your jaw.

to you, it might’ve seemed like the noise you were making was annoying him but the louder you were, the harder he rutted into your hot mouth. groaning something along the lines of ‘sound so pretty’. it wasn’t long until there were hot strips of liquid down your throat along with a few cusses from hyuck.

it took him quite a while to properly calm himself down and when he did, he slowly took his length out of your bruised mouth and laid next to you. “didn’t know we’d come to this.” he huffed a breath of tiredness. “neither did i.”

and with that the both of you fell into slumber. donghyuck knowing he was gonna wake up to being alone in bed once again and you knowing that you and him, both were gonna go back to ignoring each other in hallways or whenever you crossed paths and only talk to each other when pleasure was needed.

this is to make up for the times ive been gone :) hope it’s enough!

[bakeryblood]

Look At Me

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

@mlmmetalhead

1k of SFW Fluff

Summer was ravaging Hawkins again, as it did every year. The heatwave always did it’s best to put you in a sour mood, you were hot and your skin was sticky with sweat. Your boyfriend Eddie’s van didn’t have working a/c which made it almost more miserable than walking places since the heat built up so much in the metal incasement.

“This shit is going to be the death of me babe..” Eddie mumbles as he drove, his hair tied back messily in a half asses attempt to keep it out of his face as the two of you drove back for the gas station for a pack of cigarettes. Sweat was constantly threatening to run out of your hair and down into your eyes but you had the ability to lift the hem of your shirt at your neck and save yourself, Eddie just had to pray. And praying wasn’t something he was ever good at.

“We could go to my house, it’s cooler than yours..no offense of course!” Eddie choked on a laugh for a second before letting his eyes look over at you for a split second and then back on the road. “No Y/N, what’s offensive is you think the first time I meet your parents I’m going to be looking like this.”

You rolled your eyes but also chuckled. He did have a point, Eddie had been fearful of making a bad first impression and hadn’t even tried sneaking over to see you, even if you tempted him with how ‘hot’ it would be. He was serious about you. “No…I think we should go to the pool..” He grinned as he imagined how he’d do anything to be completely submerged in water right now, even if he had to hear kids screaming and playing in the background.

You stayed quiet until you reached the trailer, neither of you in proper swimming clothes. “Eddie, I don’t have anything to wear.” You finally spoke up, refusing to get out of the van until he’d come around to your side. He leaned against the burning hot door before taking his arm off and motioning you to come on and hop out, holding his seemingly seared flesh and giving a ‘mmm’ in pain as he did so.

“Yeah babe, trust me. I’ve got clothes for you.”

He was right, he did have a few pairs of black swimming trunks that hadn’t been worn in god knows how long. They were ill fitting on both of you, the elastic being worn out you both needed to make sure they were tied decent enough or else risk Eddie flashing his ass to everyone. “I’m not putting a shirt on here just to take it off there..” He mumbled as he stretched and debated putting his hair up better now while he still had the chance. He would end up taking it down before getting it wet anyway knowing how hard it was to pull a hair tie out of a tangled wet mess of curls.

“Eddie..” Y/N spoke up from his place on the bed, his voice soft and uncomfortable sounding.

“Yeah?— Hey, what’s up? What’s wrong?” He saw your facial expression and immediately dropped his hands out of his hair and made his way over. Standing in front of you and placing his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to push you back enough to get your eyes off his chest and on his face.

“I can’t go to the pool..I’ll just be upset the whole time..” Eddie slid one of his hands up from your shoulder to hold your face as he bent down closer locking his dark eyes with yours. “Look at me okay? You deserve to go to the pool just as much as anyone else. T-shirt on or binding or not.”

You tried to turn your face away out of embarrassment but his hand quickly took up the other cheek as well keeping you looking at him. “And if anyone tells you otherwise I’m going to drown them.” Y/N laughed at how serious he sounded while still having that grin on his face. As he let you go he went back to his dresser and pulls out an old black shirt he sometimes let you sleep in and pulled it on.

“You know, I haven’t gone swimming in years, but when I did last I wore a shirt too..” he commented as he lifted up the hem slightly when you asked ‘why’, confused. “Because when I came to live with Wayne I guess I sort of, ate my feelings?” He brushed his fingers over the markings on his sides and hips.

“I was so fuckin’ skinny when I was with my dad. Wayne couldn’t hardly keep the house stocked with food because I’d just..eat..but he never said anything to me.” He chuckled thinking about it, thinking of himself when he was younger was always a trip. “I got over it, being scared about there not being food at home. And I dropped the weight again, but obviously y’know, I’m not a model.” He struck a pose for you, still trying his best to make you laugh as he always did.

“So yeah, shirts it is then!” He grabbed your hands that were sitting in your lap and pulled you up off the bed finally seeing your face pull a smile to match his own. You were happy that maybe with him you’d actually be able to focus on having fun, because the two of you together was all that mattered.

[robynlilyblack]

I should breathe a little bit softer - Send me an AU along with a character and I'll write a lil blurb (royal au, soulmate, muggle, band etc)

Maybe Sirius Black x Reader as roommates in a muggle au?

Who we spying on?

Sirius Black x gn! reader

Muggle AU

Summary: Sirius finds his roommate in a funny position

Warnings: swearing, roommates that are a little bit in love with one another, mentions of food and eating

A/n: 0.6k words, kinda collage/modern au too since studies are mentioned, this is based off of something I actually have done, thank you for the request, enjoy x

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

Sirius leant backwards, his back pressed into the chair as he stretched. He had been writing this essay for what felt like years, he had gotten up around eight this morning in order to get finished before the deadline at midnight…well 23:59

He laughed as he heard his stomach rumble, he’d been living off of snacks and coffee most of the day, so he really needed something more substantial. He wondered if you had eaten yet, he had time to make you both something before batting his eyelashes in order to convince you to proof read his work

He headed out of his room, still in his checked bottoms and vest, hair up in a messy bun and secured with a spare chopstick. He was about to head across the hall to your room when he glanced at the front door, finding you kneeling on the ground and peeking through the keyhole.

He smirks at the scene, moving silently to kneel next to you “Who we spying on?” he asks, chuckling at your little jump

“No one” you shake your head, panting gently at the fright as you tried not to admire how good he looked for too look

He noticed however, and it made his heart warm. You and he had been paired together an accident in the lease, neither of you realsing it was a shared flat...really you both should have known by how cheap it was. After little debate you both decided to just live together instead of going through the hassle of fixing the mistake.

It worked out well, you and he had a natural connection, and his feeling soon developed past that of roommates. Hedidn’t want to ruin anything by pushing you so he just decided if it happened it happened

“Really? Not even Mr no shirt across the hall?” he teases

Both of you used to have a crush on the boy, he was very attractive, but sadly his personality wasn’t as pretty. Still, Sirius loved to tease you after he had been getting his mail shirtless one day and you slipped down the stairs...and to the end of your days you'll swear it was mere coincidence

“No” you whine shoving him as you stand up “I’m waiting on food…don’t worry I got you some too”  

“You’re an angel” he grins, arm wrapping around you as he kisses your temple “But that doesn’t explain why we are sitting on the floor and looking out of the keyhole”

You subconsciously lean into his touch “Well…we don’t have a peep hole after the hockey incident and the delivery people never knock, so I can spot them coming from the stairs by looking though here” you explain turning to look at him and accidently brush your nose with his as you do

“Sorry” you let out a nervous giggle moving backwards

He just smiles, you did a lot of weirdly adorable things; he’d heard you talked to yourself whilst cooking or cleaning, he’d find you randomly laying on the floor with your eyes closed, listening to music, and once he came back from a weekend away to find you had rearranged the kitchen just make a reading nook by the window

“Never be sorry” he squeezes your shoulder before leaning forward just a little, testing the waters and when you don’t pull back he moves closer, letting your noses brush then your lips…

Knock

Knock

Knock

You both jolted at the sudden noise and scrambled to your feet, yourself a little flustered by your almost kiss while Sirius could have laughed at his luck

“You go get the cutlery and plates, I’ll open the door” he tells you with a smile and as he watches you quickly walk off he sighs before getting ready to open the door “One time they fuckin knock” 

Thank you for reading 💛

[cjsinkythoughts]

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded!  Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum. 

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead. 

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…” 

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading​, @thatsdarwinism​, @satellitespidey​

[parkersbliss]

My Reason | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x female reader

warnings: cursing? maybe slightly out of character?

wc; 2k

synopsis: kaz brekker makes a desperate attempt to protect you, but it backfires for both parties

prompts: 015: “You’re everywhere I go!” 020: “I just wanted you to be happy.”

a/n: kaz brekker: *breathes* me: I LOVE YOU YOUVE DONE NOTHING WRONG MY SWEET CHILD

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

You felt like crying.

Scratch that. You were going to cry.

You were going to cry and possibly throw something, anything. You wanted to grab a knife and chuck it at the wall repeatedly until there was a hole.

You wanted the wall to feel the same pain as you.

Like there was a hole in it.

Ironic.

Kaz Brekker, dirtyhands, the bastard of the barrel, shattered your heart. And he probably didn’t even know it or cared.

Kaz only cared, for one thing, money. You couldn’t blame him for that. Money was something necessary in Ketterdam. You needed money to stay alive and above the rest.

But money also puts a sign on your head. A big red blinking sign that probably says something like “big kill, big money.”

You weren’t stupid. You were very well aware of how big of a sign Kaz had on his head. Plenty of people wanted his head on a spike. You almost want to add yourself to the list.

“What?” You asked, voice small.

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

Kaz doesn’t bother to look at you. His eyes stay trained at his desk, filing through paperwork for the slat. He scribbles on them, whether it be a signature or a check.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve made myself clear.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking.”

“I don’t want to.”

“(Y/N), this isn’t up for debate.”

“Well, it should be! I should be allowed to have a say in this.”

“You don’t get one!” Kaz said harshly, finally meeting your eyes. “Out.”

You want to refuse, sit there and scream at him for the rest of the night. But you can’t. Kaz Brekker won either way. It doesn’t matter if you sat in his office the rest of the night and argued. His say was final. You would only be denying the inevitable by fighting.

You stand up, blinking through the tears forming in your eyes. The words slip past your lips before you even realize.

“I hate you.”

You slam the door shut behind you, missing the way Kaz’s face drops, and his pen explodes from the force of his grip.

He had kicked you out like that. Stripped you of everything you are. One mission gone wrong, and you were booted back onto the streets of Ketterdam.

He had kicked you from the Dregs.

It wasn’t even your fault. You didn’t understand his reasoning. You got shot, and the next thing you know, as soon as you've recovered, you’re alone.

And honestly, if Pekka Rollins himself asked you to murder Kaz, you just might. The Dregs weren't a gang; they were a family. They were home to you.

A home that you hadn’t had in a while, but it wasn’t just the Dregs. It was Kaz Brekker. The bastard of the barrel was also the person that held your heart in his hands. He was the person you went to at midnight when you didn’t know what else to do.

He was the person that listened to you.

He was your person.

But you weren’t his.

You grabbed the knife off the table and throw it as hard as you can at the wall.

You miss.

You grab the knife, wiping away the tears blurring your vision, and aim again. This time it lands in the wall. You clutch it and throw it again.

And again.

And again.

…

The Crow Club is still as lively as ever as you walk past it. You contemplate going inside, but you know better. A shadow catches your eye behind you, but there’s no one out here but you.

And yet, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Then again, any member of the Dregs was constantly being watched.

You shrugged it off.

Work was easy to find in a place like Ketterdam. It was also easy as one of the top assassins. You busied yourself in easy missions with easy targets.

It was the one thing in your life that remain stable. It was after one of these missions while cleaning your knife, did you see her.

“Inej?”

The said girl steps out of the shadows, silent as ever, and pulls down her face covering. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you.”

You use your knife to gesture to the dead man on the floor, and she nods.

“Looks like I beat you to it,” You joke, tucking your knife away and rolling your shoulders.

“It would appear so.”

You want to ask how everything is, and despite every bone in your body, how Kaz is.

But instead, you turn around to leave.

“We miss you,” Inej blurts.

You freeze, letting your shoulders fall. “I miss you guys, too.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

Inej nods, stepping back into the shadows, and you leave, an aching in your heart.

But that wasn’t the last time you ran into Inej. You saw her everywhere after that and nowhere at the same time. At first, you didn’t mind, but then it became unsettling.

You felt like you were being watched in your own home, but there was no one. It was hard to explain. You always saw her in town, but the feeling of being watched couldn’t be shaken when you got home.

You didn’t know how to explain it. You wanted to call her out on it, but you said nothing.

Until you did catch her in your house.

You let her off with a warning by throwing a knife into her corner. It was never going to hit her, neither of you would allow it, but she stepped out after that.

You raise an eyebrow at her. “What are you doing?”

“Checking on you.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m just looking out-”

“You’re everywhere I go!” You shout, “Everywhere, Inej. If you wanted to look out for me, you could use the door and ask!”

“I’m sorry,” The Suli girl said.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing. You feel bad for yelling at her. Inej was one of your closest friends, and she was only looking out for you. “Inej, it’s fine I just-”

“It’s Kaz.”

“Kaz?” You question, voice softening.

“He wants to know that you’re okay, and not dead. Every time you go on a mission, he sends me as unofficial backup.”

“I can take care of myself. If he’s so worried about my safety, he shouldn’t have kicked me out in the first place," You snap.

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

You turn to face Inej, but when you do, she’s gone.

Kaz? This was his doing? You didn’t believe her, but you also knew she wouldn’t lie. You sit on the edge of your bed, staring out the window. Kaz wants to know if you’re okay.

Kaz Brekker, the man that kicked you from the Dregs wants to make sure you’re okay. The thought should be comforting, but it’s more infuriating to you. At first, you thought maybe he had changed his mind, but this was worse. He didn't trust you to take care of yourself or respect you in the slightest.

You were angry at him. You didn’t understand why, and he refused to tell you. He was so stuck up, thinking that keeping his feelings from others would make him appear stronger.

But the strongest thing anyone can do is admit them.

You stand up, grabbing your knife from the wall and tucking it into your belt.

There was someone you needed to see.

It’s bitter cold outside, biting and chilling. It forces you to walk faster towards the Slat. No one questions you when you walk in; it’s normal to them.

In fact, they look happy to see you.

Jesper’s eyes light up, and he goes to hug you, but Wylan pulls him back.

“That’s her pissed-off face.”

“I would wear earplugs if I were you,” Nina warns, “(Y/N) doesn’t back down from a fight and certainly not with Kaz.”

You make no comment and step past them, making your way up to his office.

You don’t bother knocking and throw open the door, eyes blazing.

Kaz’s head snaps up from his work, equally pissed that someone dared to open his door without permission, but then his eyes soften.

“You’re supposed to knock first, you know that,” Kaz said sharply.

You roll your eyes, slamming the door behind you. Nina smirks as she sits with the other crows outside the door, all wearing earplugs to reduce the sound of your screaming that's bound to come.

“I don’t care about your petty rules, Brekker.”

Venom drips from your voice, and Kaz sets down his pen, leaning back in his chair. “Is there something you want?”

“An explanation.”

“I can’t offer you that.”

“Kaz, you promised.”

His lip twitches ever so slightly at that.

“You promised me this. We made a deal. And Kaz Brekker goes through with all his deals.”

Kaz is silent. He’s at a loss for words. Dirtyhands did not have the upper hand here, and it seemed he was finally stunned.

“You can’t just send Inej out to watch over me after you kicked me out, okay? If you don’t have an explanation, at least let me live the rest of my life without you watching over.”

Nothing.

You sigh, pushing the tears back, ready to make your way out of the slat for the last time, but then he speaks. His voice is raspier than usual but soft, almost like a whisper.

“I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Happy?” You scoff. “Why would that ever make me happy?”

“It was a way out.”

“Out of what, Kaz?”

“This!” He shouts, standing up and gesturing to the walls around you both. “This lifestyle of doing the dirty work to survive and always having a sum of money plastered on your forehead.”

“I don’t want out!”

“It was a way for you to escape…. to escape me.”

There’s silence as you process his words. You wanted to be angry at Kaz and continue to lash out at him, but you understand. He had given you your reason, and you're damned because it's a good one.

But you didn't want to escape him. Kaz was the only reason you stayed in Ketterdam; he was the thing that kept you grounded here. He was your person.

“Why would I ever want that?”

“You hate me.”

You shake your head, “Kaz-”

He cuts you off, switching topics. “This lifestyle isn’t meant for you.”

“It’s not meant for any of us.”

“I gave you a chance.”

“You gave me a reason.”

“A reason?”

Kaz waits for an answer, but you’re afraid to give it. The hardest thing anyone can do is admit their feelings. And you're unsure if you're strong enough to face them.

Kaz Brekker was stone cold, and you don't know if he'd drop the facade, even for you.

“You are the reason I deal with this lifestyle,” You finally said, voice barely above a whisper as you feel the weight lift from your shoulders. “Because it’s worth it. You are worth it.”

“I am not worth anything,” Kaz dismissed.

“Kaz Rietveld, you are worth everything to me.”

The boy freezes, and you take a step forward, placing your hand inches from his. Your heart beats madly in your chest, and you feel like you're suffocating as you wait for an answer, a reaction, anything. You expect him to pull away, but he doesn't. He stares at your hand inches from his on his desk.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” You said.

His eyes meet yours, and you can see the fear in them. His hands are shaky, but he manages to take yours in them. He still wears his gloves, and your hands are just barely resting on top of his, but it means enough to you.

“You’re worth everything to me,” he repeats back to you.

Your heart bursts in your chest as Kaz squeezes your hand lightly. The action means everything to you.

Nina screams in triumph with the rest of the crows outside the door.

You and Kaz laugh, still holding his hand.

And at that moment, you know, you are his everything, and he is yours.

[anyoneseenadam]

Healing

pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: TW - sexual assault, rape, objectification and implications of abuse, smut, consensual sex, azriel is a sweetie and rhys is a good bestie

a/n: first of all PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! i’m really proud of this fic but I don’t want to trigger or upset anyone, that being said it isn’t too graphic but still. Anyway I hope u enjoy, this took me three days lmao <333

based on: this and this

—————————————————————————-

You had your first less than savoury encounter with men when you had barely turned nine. Your body still hadn’t finished forming, but you were growing, and your body was gaining some semblance of shape as you did. It wasn’t much – just a whistle from across the street – but for a second your heart seized up with fear, and in the next you almost felt giddy. A man thought you were beautiful.

You felt like a princess that day – felt the way you had when the boy from your class had kissed your cheek, still too young to process the intentions behind that single whistle. But you didn’t care – someone wanted you.

When you got your first period at twelve – even more changed. Your body felt new, and you didn’t feel comfortable in the changes. Your old clothes didn’t fit and now your mother forced you into tighter corsets for those long, long dinners you had to attend. Your parents were respected Fae in the Hewn City – nobles who liked to drink and smoke and throw extravagant balls. And with your new body you could no longer simply hide in the corner or climb through secret passages with your friends – muddying your dresses.

Now you had to smile when men hugged you slightly too long, laugh when they commented on how much you had grown up, sit pretty and pristine with an old mans hand loitering to close to your rear for hours as you watched your parents drink away their troubles.

By the time you were fifteen you were used to the constant attention, your beauty not uncommon where you lived but still doted on often. Unaware of their desire for your youth, your naivety. The women never offering a helping hand but instead glaring down high skewed noses as their husbands slurred into your ears – still in shock that a pretty, young thing like you was all alone at this party.

When you were sixteen you decided to change that – kissing an alright looking boy at a party and telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he would kiss you back. He stayed when you didn’t protest as he pulled you to the bathroom and pushed you to your knees. And for this small request, the greasy hands on your body at balls and dinners or any other social gathering halved – now only the truly self-righteous felt they could touch you still.

The only problem was you truly did love the boy you had chosen. He had faults yes, but he was kind – he brought you flowers and kissed your cheek. But he also spoke over you, forced you into silence and took what he wanted. And he always wanted the same thing.

If anything it was his father’s fault. The military commander never leaving room for debate when he argues with his wife – and sons only become what they see in their fathers.

Your father had left with a younger woman a few months after your fourteenth birthday, and you hadn’t seen him since – only heard stories of him galivanting around the autumn court from your classmates. You could see the distaste your mum held you in as she realised she would have to stick around to look after you, not yet old enough to be married. Then Amarantha had taken hold of the country and that possibility had been thrown out the window anyway.

Weirdly enough not that much changed in your life when she took power, the only major difference was that now you had to block out screams before going to sleep and even they had become like white noise. You still drank with your friends on Friday nights, went out with your boyfriend on Saturdays and slept the pain away on Sundays. Your weekdays consisted of school, dinners, balls and whatever more your mother could throw together to appease the high queen.

That and the high lord of the night court had started making appearances at the events your mother threw. He was a cruel man standing so proudly at the queen’s side – but you saw something flickering in his eyes whenever people spoke, complimenting his power and rule. You saw what you felt as you laughed at compliments and lingering touches – you saw pain, but more importantly you saw anger. And right now you could use anger.

During one ball you watched him leave, taking an odd route – not the one that would help him escape the loud music but instead a long winding corridor leading to a series of smaller rooms. Without thought you peeled away from your company, muttering excuses and went after him – grabbing a bottle of wine as you did.

You found him reclining in an empty room and knocked on the door gently. He cracked open an eye – slow like a cat – and beckoned you in. You moved to perch next to him, leaning back with a straight back and letting your head loll slightly as you took a swig of the dark red wine, before passing him the bottle.

“You looked like you could use a drink,” you smiled, eyes focused on his sharp jaw as he held the bottle to his mouth with a laugh.

“One way of putting it,” he smiled. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes as you took in his beauty, his looks plus mannerisms all made him seem like a wild cat - a panther trapped underground.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked, and you raised a hand to trace that sharp jaw. But instead of devouring you as any lesser man would’ve, he brushed your hand away and held it tightly in his larger one. “That’s not gonna happen, you’re what sixteen?”

“Almost seventeen,” you said, cheekily. He laughed but shook his head, squeezing your hand before releasing it.

“You’re still a child,” he said matter-of-factly, and you scoffed, stealing your wine back to drink again.

“Yeah well that’s usually a selling point,” your voice was sad, but you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his – refusing to show fear, “And you’re so nice to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He laughed as you pouted, “You practice this in the mirror or something?”

“Usually works in three seconds,” you confess, and he whistles under his breath, “Men are rather easy to manipulate when they’ve been trying to get into your skirts since your first bleed.”

“And you wonder why I’m not about to take advantage of you,” he laughed, and you smiled – a real smile, or real enough. “Plus I don’t think your little boyfriend would be pleased.”

“Eh, he’s never pleased - I don’t think this could make him worse.” Rhysand took the wine back and frowned.

“Does he hurt you?” his voice was sincere but the laugh you let out was not.

“Don’t all men,” he swore, and you laughed again, “Yet you foil my plan to make you fall in love with me and whisk me away to the moon.”

He laughed, but his eyes darkened with deep sadness you were sure you would never understand, “I think we both no that even I could not do that, but I might be able to crush your fly.”

“Little boyfriend? Fly? You really don’t like him do you?” you laughed, head lighter already.

“I don’t like any man who thinks they can hurt women,” he said, frowning when he realised through your passing back and forth there was no wine left.

“Shit that took us like five minutes,” you complained, and he laughed, waving his hand lightly as several more bottles appeared before you – you grinned as you grabbed another.

“So any friends with weaker moral backbones that I could marry?” you asked with a laugh, and he smiled at you.

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he leaned back again. You smiled – finally happy that one night might pass in the company of a decent man.

Soon, you’d find it would be more than one night, a close friendship quickly blossoming between you and the high lord. All your friends were convinced you were sleeping together but true to his word he didn’t touch you, and by the time you surpassed the age of eighteen you didn’t want him to. But that didn’t stop other men.

After a particularly bad argument with your boyfriend that had left you with a handprint on your left cheek you had broken up with him – sending away his apologies and flowers, smart enough to see he didn’t hold the mental capacity to change.

Plus you were beautiful and young, you could certainly do better. And you soon did – rich men who liked to buy you jewellery, and fine clothes, men who enjoyed literature and art and spending time with you.

And at the start of each relationship, for a few blissful seconds you would believe in their pure intentions. But then a hand would drift from your lower back to your ass, or the gentle kiss that followed a necklace would shift from your mouth to your breasts. Not one of them wanted to wait until you were comfortable, so you made yourself comfortable.

You pictured pretty, strong men were holding you down and making you feel something, slipping your own hand between your legs and they penetrated you to try and replicate what you were sure a lover’s touch must feel like. And as always – after the first time- they stopped asking for permission, you were their toy, so you no longer had choice over that part of yourself.

But through nice guys and bad boys, for fifty years you had Rhysand who was a friend – who treated you with respect and finally let you talk, let you breathe.

In the end he was the one who found you, in the backroom of a party – drunk and undressed. You were weeping, curled in a ball with your attackers’ seed dripping out of you, bruises decorating your bare skin. When he turned you over with his comforting hands he found your nose dripping red and the vibrant lipstick you wore smudged.

He helped you sit up and redress, took you home and stood outside the bathroom while you scrubbed yourself clean in scalding water – still unsteady on your feet. You changed into a nightgown silently and neither of you said a word when you crawled into bed next to each other, crying in your best friends’ arms as he tried to console you.

When you woke up, he was gone with just a scribbled message about Amarantha and the name of a healer he trusted. But you just placed it back down, turning onto your back and staring at the ceiling as hot tears ran into your hairline.

You barely ate anything for the days following your assault – fighting with your mother more when you rarely saw her and subsequently breaking it off with your current boyfriend. You had thrown his hands off you when he tried to touch you and the screaming match that followed ended your relationship.

Your bond with Rhysand grew only closer however as you spent nights drinking in candlelight, talking about anything and everything until you were sure he knew every inch of your soul and you his.

“You know what I’m going to do as soon as she’s gone,” you whispered one night as you stared at the twinkling lights you had hung on your bedroom roof to imitate stars.

“What?” Rhys had asked, never letting his eyes leave the ‘stars’ which he had laughed at and then proceeded to rearrange to make them more accurate. To which you threw a pillow at his head.

“Find a hill, or a pier, or a large pit or anything and scream into it until my throat bleeds.” You said and he laughed, the bed beneath you rumbling.

“Consider me on board.” He joked as you sat up to perch at your vanity – smudging the sharp eyeliner you wore with a small brush and applying some red lipstick.

“Wanna go out?” you asked him, and he sat up to with a small, sad smile.

“Can’t.” you understood his implication and frowned.

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gutted me yet,” you tried to lighten the mood, but his face darkened slightly when he joked back.

“Oh she wants to, I’m telling her any information you give me about citizens, so she doesn’t.” He said, ruffling your hair as he stood to leave.

“That’s fair, I’ll keep an ear out,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently before he left.

Things changed when Feyre Archeron appeared, you saw the way your friend watched her and realised you might be competing for his attention soon, but you were happy for him. Until he brought her to that first party – drugged and barely dressed. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you pushed down memories of yourself in such a similar position, and while you knew he would never hurt her – he was still a man. And you were foolish to believe for all those years that he was a man who would realise this was wrong.

Making polite excuses you left the party, picking up the tails of your dress as you all but raced home – ditching the dress and closing the blinds tightly as you made yourself food in your underwear. The sick feeling in your throat spreading through your chest and stomach as you ate, abandoning your meal halfway for a book and large sweater. And when he knocked on your door that night, desperate to tell you all about her – all about the human girl who he was sure could be his mate, you pretended to be asleep.

You barely spoke to him the whole time she was there, unable to look him in the eyes when she was so clearly out of it – and the feeling only grew when the next morning she would have all eyes on her. You understood that feeling. You instead spent parties flirting with Tarquin, the young high lord who was only a few years your senior or warding off marriage invitations with laughs and carefully placed words.

Rhys would sometimes catch your eyes – furrowing his eyebrows at you when you avoided his gaze, the sick feeling never really leaving. But it wasn’t until you watched Tamlin slay Amarantha with a smile that he tried to speak to you again. Feyre was Fae and leaving with her betrothed and Rhysand had just confirmed they were mates – and never had he needed his best friend quiet like he did now.

You were sitting when he found you, head in your palms and blood dusting the skirts of your dress. You had been sitting near Amarantha when it happened. You looked up when he neared, smiling sadly as he sat next to you.

“Want to go home?” he asked you quietly and you scoffed, standing, and moving to leave quickly. He followed after you, grabbing your arm as you wrenched it out of his grip with more ferocity than he had ever seen from you.  

“Don’t touch me,” he held his hands up, backing away to give you space as you got your breathing under control.

“What did I do?” he asked – smart enough to not presume anything.

“How could you think it was okay, after what happened?” your voice was quiet again, and so sad.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he implored, stepping slightly closer again. You raised your eyes to meet his and he understood, the darkness you carried in your eyes shining through – the memories that resurfaced in those dark moments. “I’m sorry, let me explain please.”

You let him hold your arm softly as he winnowed the two of you to your house where you sat down heavy and tired.

“I did it because she needed out of that cell, but I saw what they did to you and you’re a fae woman, she’s… she was human. So it meant that no one else would touch her.” He tried to explain, “And she wouldn’t want to remember.”

“That’s a horrible thing to do Rhys.” You stated and he hung his head low, “How in anyway was that helping her, to get her out you could’ve snuck her here or just take her to a ball and let her dress normally.”

“I’m sorry, I just knew this would’ve been the safest option,” he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it like he did all those years ago, “It’s over, we can go home.”

“I am home,” you laughed bitterly, gesturing to your house.

“No, you’re coming out of this city – we’re putting it behind us.” He stood and held out a hand.

“I know you’re trying to be dramatic and all, but I have to pack – and think.” You said and he laughed.

“Take your time,” he said, sitting back to wait for you, “And I know it might take you a while to forgive me, but I’ll wait.”

You had left soon after, as he revealed his city to you. Winnowing to a house where two beautiful women stood at the door, strong winged men appearing next to them almost instantly – all sharing the same tear-eyed look. Well, all asides from a short, dark-haired woman who simply smiled.

The men you presumed were Azriel and Cassian barrelled towards Rhysand, attacking him in the most violent hug you had ever witnessed. Mor followed soon after and Amren simply offered him a curt nod, to which he bowed slightly with a cheeky smile.

Cassian turned to look at you and everyone followed suit, you straightened up – not wanting to cower under their gazes.

“And this, this is (y/n).” Rhysand said, placing a hand on your elbow, “She’s the only reason I survived under the mountain.”

You smiled at him, annoyed still – but you still held so much love for him in your heart. You looked away when Cassian approached and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly.

When he released you he looked you dead in the eye, “I am forever in your service.”

“Cassian let go of the poor girl,” Mor exclaimed behind him, and you giggled, looking to Rhys for support.

“Forgot to tell you he’s a hugger,” he shrugged, and you shoved his shoulder.

“Oh did you!”  you laughed.

“Gotta get used to it, you’re part of the team now,” Cassian slung an arm around your shoulder as he guided you inside, “which means lots of hugs and long talks about emotions.”

“Don’t steal my best friend Cassian,” Rhys jabbed at his brother as you all moved to sit inside around a long table.

“He already had I’m afraid, can’t reverse love like ours,” you joined in, patting Cassian’s hand as he punched the air in victory, Rhysand feigning pain as he dramatically collapsed into his chair – a hand over his heart.

When you were finally seated you caught Azriel’s gaze, his eyes locked on you – having watched you interact with his family for less than five minutes and already completely enamoured. You smiled softly when you caught his gaze and he grinned at you, no words passing.

Later that evening – after too many drinks, you found yourself alone on a balcony you found, drinking in the fresh air greedily after all those years underground. You didn’t realise he was there until he was next to you – silent on his feet, his shadows a cool chill passing over your shoulders.

You tilted your head to look at him, in awe of his beauty. Not even Rhysand had awed you as much as this man was, his beauty unparalleled by anyone you had met before. He turned his gaze down to you as well, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you as he watched you move with such elegant curiosity.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced,” you smiled, lifting your hand delicately, “I’m (y/n).”

He met your hand halfway, lifting it to his mouth with perfectly poised and trained grace. “Azriel,” his voice was deep, gruff – and sent chills through you quickly. But when he moved your hand from his mouth you held on, the sparks flowing through you telling you all you needed to know. He similarly made no move to let go.

“Are we? I don’t really know how any of this works,” you laughed nervously but he smiled so warmly and tugged you slightly closer to him with the hand you were still clutching.

“You’re my mate princess,” he said, voice rough from disuse. You smiled widely, eyes forming tears as your gaze never strayed from him – finally getting one person who would truly love you, not your body – but you. He tugged your hand gently and you followed him inside, smiling and love drunk.

“We should probably go to the house of wind,” his voice was quiet as you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“Me and Cassian have to share a room here, the bed are singles.” You smiled and laughed – irrevocably happy.

“Yeah maybe not,” you said, and he held your hand softly as he walked you to the front door, passed his past out friends, Rhys cracking an eye open when you walked past him, and you turned when he tugged your skirt gently.

You okay? He asked in your mind, and you smiled at him.

I’m perfect, why? You replied as he closed his eyes again, clearly too tired to hold them open - Azriel moving to retrieve your coats.

Just don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not ready for, Azriel is understanding he won’t get angry. A sort of cold feeling settled on your shoulders when you realised why Azriel wanted that extra privacy.

Shit forgot I had to do that you joked but Rhysand felt the stress growing, however before he could reply Azriel was by your side again and you were waving him goodbye, your smile tight lipped.

Honestly, you trusted Rhysand when he said that Azriel would understand – but so far you had yet to meet a man who truly respected the boundaries you set, a man who would truly wait. Azriel met your eyes in silent questions before scooping you into his arms, flying high above the house as you squealed in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck, and shutting your eyes tightly as you soared above the vibrant city.

He felt you tense as you neared the house, swooping lower in order to land on the large balcony attached to his room. He placed you on shaky legs gently and looked down to smile at you again – heart so full of love and peace.

Not only was his brother returned to him in one piece, but along beside him came you. His mate. His mate.

You caught his gaze and gave him a tight-lipped smile, terrified for history to repeat itself. You wanted to talk to him and know him – you didn’t want him to learn to love your body instead of you. And you were truly afraid to be touched again, you hadn’t been with a man since you were raped – fear stopping you before they could get close and walls slamming up if they tried.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice was dripping with concern – genuine concern, and the way he said it made tears well up in your eyes. His own instantly widened as he sensed the sadness and fear rolling of you in waves, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sobbed into his chest. “Oh sweetheart we don’t have to do anything, c’mon lets go sit down.”

He guided you through the glass doors and sat you down gently on the bed, holding you gently and coaxing you through your breakdown. Once your breathing had calmed slightly and you had pulled out of his embrace, wiping your tears harshly with the butt of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly, terrified to anger your mate when you’ve only just found him.

“It’s okay darling, what’s wrong – did I do something? You’re not terrified of heights are you?” he asked, and you laughed softly, a smile growing on his face as his worries eased slightly.

“No, that was fun,” he grabbed your hand in his scarred ones and you gripped it tightly.

“Then what was it?” you looked into those beautiful, worried eyes and let out an exhale – bottom lip quivering.

“I just don’t think I can – I can’t do that tonight.” You whispered the words lowly, afraid of his reaction as you clung like a child to his hand.

“Hey, that’s okay – we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready,” he smiled, worries easing. You still wanted to be with him, just not in that way yet – and he could wait. He would wait a million years if you asked.

“Even if I’m not ready for a while?” You asked, and he held your face in his hands gently – looking into your tear-filled, defeated eyes.

“I would wait forever and then some – I have already waited so long to meet you, I’m sure I can last longer, especially if you’re next to me.” Your smile was so sad when you met his eyes.

“I’ve been told that before,” Azriel just pulled you closer to him with a cheeky grin.

“And were any of them your mate?”

“No,” you smiled at him again and he thought his heart was going to combust.

“Well then, I love to prove people wrong.” You buried your head into his chest as his arms came around you once more, “Would you like to sleep here, or would you like your own room?”

“Here is fine, I like the way you make me feel,” you said quietly, tugging on the bond experimentally. Azriel just smiled and tugged back.

“That works for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He moved to stand but you stopped him – tugging on the dress shirt he wore.

“I want this,” you grinned cheekily up at him, and he laughed, but undid the buttons and pulled it off anyway – turning around to let you change in peace. When he turned back around you were looking up at him with wide eyes – looking impossibly cute in his shirt.

“It has holes in the back,” you complained, and he laughed, sitting down to tug off his trousers before sliding under the covers as you scrambled to lay in his arms.

“Well I do have wings,” he cemented his point by letting one drape over your shoulders as you sighed in content.

“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned quietly, burrowed deep under his arms and the covers. His chest rumbled with the silent laugh as he pressed a kiss into your hairline.

The next morning he awoke to you laying on his chest, tracing the scars on the backs of his hands with a delicately pointed finger. He stared in wonder, and you must have felt his gaze because you turned your head to meet his eyes, face still puffy from sleep. As you whispered to him that morning, your chin resting on his chest as you gazed up at him until he rose to get your morning drinks. Barely daring to leave for more than a few seconds. And when he returned he was so glad he did – welcoming the sight of you curled up under his sheets with a shy smile and tired eyes.

“Do we have to do anything today?” you asked as you sipped your drink slowly, Azriel’s’ arm tight and secure around your waist.

“Nope,” he said, delighted at the prospect, “I just want to be with you and my family.”

“Sounds heavenly.”

True to his word, for the next few weeks that past, you and Azriel didn’t progress past slow, occasional kisses and lingering touches. But before either of those he was always searching your eyes – asking permission. And you truly fell in love with him during those weeks.

He was caring and consistent – never promising anything he couldn’t bring. And he cared for you, he cared for you past your body and looks. He wanted to be with you for an eternity.

One night, while you lay together, speaking lowly and listening to the rain fall outside your room – a glass door cracked open, you decided you were ready. You pressed closer to him, your lips meeting his own in a kiss more passionate than you had previously shared.

He followed your lead with just as much passion, but when you crawled into his lap he pulled away slightly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you,” he asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your hips.

“I’m sure, I love you and I want to be with you.” You told him sincerely, “But I haven’t been with anyone in a few years so I’m a little out of practice.”

You giggled nervously but he furrowed his eyebrows, “But you told me about your boyfriends?”

“Yeah but I – stopped dating about five years ago.” You tried to explain quickly, old nerves being brought up, but Azriel pulled you closer and as always his touch calmed you.

“Can I ask why?” he watched you drop your head a little as you breathed slowly – determined to not let your fear rise, you would probably end up telling him anyway so you might as well get it over with.

“I was raped.” You stated and his grip on your hips tightened slightly as he swore.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he started but you stopped him with a sharp glaze.

“You don’t need to apologise, it happened and it’s over now.” He could practically feel you pull away, so he loosened his grip on your hips and instead brought his arms up to hold you against his chest.

“Who did it?” he asked, voice dark and dangerous. You muttered a name lowly – under your breath – and he pocketed in the darkest corners of his mind for later. His shadows itching to tear the man apart.

“Look (y/n), if you’re ready I am more than happy to oblige but I need to know you’re really ready, I will wait as long as you need.” You pulled away from his chest and kissed him gently.

“I’m ready, I trust you,” he smiled up at you from where you perched on his lap and you giggled and he flipped you over, laying between your legs with a feral grin.

He made you cum three times with his mouth and those beautiful, beautiful hands alone – more than you had ever experienced with a man and he hadn’t even received any pleasure yet. Except from the pleasure of watching his perfect mate fall apart on his sheets, over and over.

And when he lay over you, your legs pushed up and wrapped around his waist, and his forearms on either side of your head – he would later swear he had never felt more complete.

“I’m here with you remember, will be the whole time.” He assured you, voice soft as he lined himself up and you smiled.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, and he pushed in slowly, filling every part of you and pushing against every spot you didn’t know you had. You swore under your breath when he bottomed out, the slight pain quickly being reduced to please as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” you felt shivers run through your body at his gruff voice and smiled, moaning when he began to move.

He pulled his head from where it hid in your neck and watched as you closed your eyes – head thrown back with a smile – and his hips bucked, desperately trying to control himself as he watched you arch your back.

“Shit Az, you’re so big,” you moaned loudly, unaware of the trance you had pulled your mate into.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered with a harsh thrust, a hand coming to stroke down your face as you opened your eyes to meet his, “So perfect.”

You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the love that filled it as you reached up to kiss him softly – conveying every word, every thought, through that kiss. When you pulled away you were nearing your end, the sensations building in you without the need of a fantasy or your own hand.

You moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as one hand instinctively moved to stroke down his wing. He shuddered above you with a loud groan – his thrusts speeding up as he to neared release, yours hips surely bruising from the force of his own.

“C’mon baby, need to feel you, need to know you’re mine.” His words ignited something in your stomach, and you clung tighter to him, kissing his sharp jaw as you smiled.

“I’m yours Azriel, now and forever.” Your gentle words pushed him over the edge and his skilful fingers dipping between your thighs brought you down with him. The two of you crying out at the sensations you shared as a growing need to never let him go consumed you.

He collapsed on top of you soon after and he intertwined your fingers with his own as your breathing evened out. He slipped out of you, and you smiled up at him as he sat up, rolling off your body and laying to the side while you came to rest your head on his firm chest. He brought his spare hand upwards – twirling strands of your hair slightly as you rested in silence. After a few minutes, you clambered into his lap and kissed him firmly as he pulled you impossibly close.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt his heart swell with gratitude to the world for giving him an angel that would willingly hold his hand and guide him out of the darkness.

“I am so in love with you,” he whispered back, and you giggled, a hand moving slowly to stroke him as you felt him harden beneath you again.

“Hmm, is that so?” you whispered.

Azriel, who had started pressing light kisses into your neck, nipped you gently, making you squeal, “What were you saying darling?”

“That I am also deeply, and unequivocally in love with you.” You replied and he rolled his eyes.

“Just putting me to shame with your big words.” He muttered and you giggled – crawling down his body.

“I’m sure I could make it up to you.”

[silversatoru]

Can i regurst a gojo x reader smut where y/n is gojo’s ex girlfriend and also a strong jujutsu sorcerer and they get back together asdfghjkl 🥺😂? Tyy 🥺

hehhee yes ma’am here u are!!! i actually loved writing this one (i think i just have a thing for writing gojo lately lmao) anyway! i! hope! you! enjoy!

to heaven and back

gojo satoru x f! sorcerer!reader

synopsis: you and your ex, gojo satoru, beat the hell out of a few special grade curses and then head back to his house to rekindle an old (and kind of kinky) flame

tags/warnings: nsfw (18+), smut, handcuffs, blindfolding, little bit of oral sex, teasing, alcohol consumption, some fluff at the end? just a little

word count: 3.1k

You lifted your elegant glass of random wine that you could care less about knowing the name of, and took a long sip. All of these old rich bastards talked way too much about brand names, aging, and what cheese paired well with each wine. They were missing what was really important — which one would get you drunk the quickest. 

These kinds of formal events weren’t really your scene, and having to listen to a bunch of old, conservative, high-up jujutsu leaders was terribly boring — so why not take this opportunity to get a little tipsy? You deserved it for putting up with all of these assholes. After all, the only reason they invited you to this prestigious event was for protection. If that pesky band of special grade curses caught wind that all of the higher ups from both Kyoto and Tokyo were in the same place, they were sure to launch some kind of attack. The old, wrinkly douchebags couldn’t care less about your opinions of the jujutsu world and how you would change it, they only liked you for incredible cursed technique. 

And so here you were, spitefully wearing your most elegant dress and downing glasses of wine in an attempt to drown out all of the nonsense around you. There was only one thing that could make this event any worse and— 

“Hello everyone! The strongest jujutsu sorcerer has arrived — I know you were all looking forward to my appearance”. 

And there it was. There was that one thing that could make this event any worse. Gojo Satoru.

You dipped your head low, burying yourself in your glass of wine and praying to any god who would listen to not let this man see you. It’s been over two years since the two of you broke up, but he still wasn’t someone you enjoyed running into. 

Gojo was terribly notorious for having a long line of girls at his disposal, and with his incredible strength and annoyingly good-looks, it wasn’t hard to understand why. The two of you had never been in an officially committed relationship, and so technically Gojo was free to do as he pleased — but you were practically dating and your heart ached every time you caught wind of him being with another woman. And so two years ago you cut things off with him for good — you were tired of being the one he always ran back to at the end of the day. 

He’d looked at you with eyes full of pain that night, begging and pleading to stay with him. He showed you a vulnerable side to him that you had never seen before — and he swore to you that if you had asked to make things official, he would have committed himself to you fully. You declined however, because you felt like you shouldn’t have needed to ask for that kind of thing — but maybe that was just your ego getting in the way. 

“Hey, beautiful, I’ve never seen you around before, you must be from the Tokyo campus,” Some random assistant casually leaned against the counter you were sitting at and shook you out of your thoughts.

“If you’ve never seen me before then you must not be very important,” You shot him a distasteful glance, taking another sip of your wine. 

The man’s face lit up with panic — he must not have been expecting such retaliation to his pathetic attempt of flirting. 

“Are you bothering her?” A familiar voice came from behind you — a long, slender hand slapping down onto your shoulder, “Please don’t flirt with my wife”. 

“Ah- Wife? I’m so sorry, sir,” The man stumbled over his words, bowing his head to Gojo and scurrying away. 

Gojo wasted no time sliding into the seat next to you and pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle you’d already been working on. 

“Really? You’re telling people I’m your wife now?” You gave him a deadpanned look. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his glass. 

You rolled your eyes hard, “Why are you here, Satoru?” 

“Same reason as you. The old, conservative pussies are afraid those special grades might attack — so why not invite their two prized sorcerers to protect them?” 

“Fair,” You let out a heavy sigh, “Not sure that was their best move though — I don’t think either one of us is very motivated to save these fuckers”. 

“No, but I brought my students with me today. So, if anything does happen, make sure you put on a show for them,” He winked, already topping off his wine glass. 

You looked over to see a few kids sitting a couple tables away from the two of you, chatting amongst themselves and wondering why the fuck they had to be here. 

And so an hour or two went by, and to your surprise, you found yourself laughing hysterically alongside Gojo. The two of you had definitely drank a bit too much, and your personalities complimented each other a little too perfectly. You shared the same terrible sense of humor and he had quite the knack for bringing out this lighthearted side of you. You had missed moments like this these past two years. 

Neither of you were paying any attention to the current debate that was occurring between the higher ups when a loud crash sent broken pieces of glass flying through the grand hall. Sure enough, the curses had made their appearance and came flying into the building through a now broken window.

“It’s our time to shine, huh?” Gojo looked over at you, and you imagined that his icy blue eyes were swirling with excitement under that mask. 

“Yeah, let’s make this quick,” You found a warm ball of excitement churning in your own stomach — it’d been a long time since the two of you had fought together. 

Your technique revolved around the manipulation of cursed energy and converting it into light. You could wrap yourself in a shield of light, send curse-filled bursts of light at your enemies, and move at the speed of light as well — which was almost as efficient as Gojo’s teleportation abilities. You had a series of more advanced moves as well, but those required more energy output and therefore you used them a little less often.

The two of you were both able to move so fast that the curses really didn’t stand a chance. You found yourself laughing as you flipped through the air, hurling balls of light at the curses as Gojo worked closer in hand-to-hand combat. At one point, while the two of you were flying past each other, Gojo stuck out his hand and gave you a high five, both of you smiling like maniacs who enjoyed fighting a little too much. 

Between Gojo’s Limitless and your extreme agility and bursts of light, the curses were quickly forced to flee. Both of you were feeling much too drunk and much too lazy to chase after them, even with all of the higher ups begging you to do so. Gojo simply flipped them off and stuck out his tongue, saying that he did what they paid him to do — keep the curses away — and now that the curses had been scared off, he was no longer needed. 

“You want to come back with me, relieve more of our old memories together? I remember how much you loved sleeping in my king sized bed,” Gojo looked back at you, offering one of his large, slender hands. 

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was your stupid, stupid heart, but you reached out and took his hand, “Fuck it, let’s go”. 

Gojo’s house on the outskirts of the Tokyo campus was just as you remembered — sleek black interior with modern furniture and extravagantly silky sheets on his bed — his same bed that you were currently sprawled out on, laying in nothing but your undergarments. 

Gojo joined you a couple minutes later, his bare skin warm and familiar against yours. He pressed a few sloppy kisses to your lips, both of you still incredibly tipsy and unable to stop the small giggles from leaking out between your lips while you kissed. 

“Take the blind fold off you weirdo,” You pulled at the back of the black fabric. 

“Mmm, okay,” He mumbled, undoing the knot and exposing his piercing blue eyes.

“So pretty,” You murmured under your breath — his eyes really were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your life

His fluffy silver hair fell down messily over his face, a drunken smile stretched across his lips. His smile quickly turned into a devilish grin as he slipped the mask over your eyes instead, tying a tight not at the back of your head.

“This isn’t what I meant,” You droned, but you didn’t argue — you certainly weren’t opposed to being blindfolded.

“It looks good on you,” He slurred, his words messy and his lips even messier as he pressed them back against yours. 

The kisses seemed to last forever, and both of you were perfectly okay with that — your hands taking their time exploring each other’s bodies for the first time in far too long. 

Gojo’s hands worked their way up your back, tracing lines along your toned muscles until he finally reached the nape of your neck. His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, soft hums coming from his lips.

“I still have handcuffs, if you’re still into that sort of thing,” he mused, massaging his fingertips into your scalp. 

“Damn, I can’t believe you remember what I like. I thought my preferences would have gotten lost among the sea of other women you were pleasing,” You let the snarky remark roll off your tongue, though there was clearly no real spite in your words — you’re both adults and what happened then was in the past now.

“It wasn’t even that many,” He defended, “And you were the only one who ever mattered”. 

“I’m flattered,” You laughed, “Now, where are those handcuffs?” 

Gojo stifled a deep laugh, his hands leaving your hair as he lifted himself up and stood from the bed. When he returned a few moments later, there was cool metal wrapping around both of your wrists. He had two sets of handcuffs, putting one on each wrist and then hooking the other side to the bed posts. 

You were entirely at his disposal now, your hands secured over your head and your vision blocked off by the black mask. 

“I could tickle you right now and there’s nothing you could do,” Gojo observed aloud, pressing kisses up the side of your torso.

“Satoru, I would kick the living shit out of you,” You threaten, goosebumps growing under your skin. 

“Yeah, but you can’t touch me unless I let you,” He retaliated, his soft hands reaching underneath your bra to feel your breasts.

You groaned in response — his Limitless really did make him impossible.

He cupped each of his hands around your firm lumps, gently massaging them between his fingers. His cool fingertips then made their way down to your lower body, swiftly removing your remaining underwear. You were now completely exposed to him, chills running down your spine as you wondered what he would do next. 

You heard a shaky breath leave his lips, his hungry hands massaging circles into your thighs, “God, you’re so beautiful. I missed you so much, you know that?” 

“I’m sure you did,” You breathed, “I’m a wonderful person to be around”. 

Gojo let out a hearty laugh, and you heard what you assumed to be the sound of his own underwear getting thrown to the floor. A few seconds later he was straddling your torso, his warm thighs wrapped around your body. You couldn’t see it, but you knew his massive member had to be right in front of your face now. 

“Remind me what that pretty mouth can do,” He cooed, pressing the tip of his length gently to your lips. 

You graciously granted him access, parting your lips and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip, earning a few twitches from Gojo’s body. You began to bob your head back and forth as much as the handcuffs allowed, a few quiet moans leaving his throat in response. 

He began to move his hips against you, gingerly pushing his member deeper and deeper into your mouth until you were taking the full length down your throat. He groaned and let a few curse words slide from between his teeth — your mouth was wrapped so perfectly around him. Tears pricked at your eyes and a couple rough gags ripped through your throat, Gojo finally pulling away and allowing you to catch your breath. 

After that, you felt a single one of his long, slim fingers slide into your mouth, and you wasted no time wrapping it in your tongue and sucking hard. 

“Good girl,” He murmured, plucking his finger back out of your mouth and moving it down to your aching entrance. 

Between the saliva on his finger and the slick juices around your opening — his finger slid in effortlessly. He started moving in quick movements, curling his finger up into your g-spot each time. A few light moans left your lips, your fists clenching in the cuffs as your yearned for more. His finger felt good, but you wanted the real thing — you needed it.

“Satoru, please,” You practically whined his name, a tiny bit ashamed for how desperate you were for him right now. 

“Patience, love,” He clicked his tongue and your heart did somersaults at the endearing name. 

He removed his singular finger and intertwined it with a second one before sliding them back into your cavern. He picked up a steady pace again, your breath hitching in your throat. Two fingers was certainly better than one, but the continuous teasing was just making you even more desperate to feel his member inside of you. You mumbled his name over and over, small pleads and shameless whispers leaving your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hands.

“No ones fucked you as good as I used to, have they? You’re horribly desperate right now” He clicked his tongue again, removing his fingers and moving them up to your clit. He rubbed the smallest, softest circles against the small nub, your core growing warmer with desire. 

“I won’t make you wait any longer then,” He whispered, sitting back and positioning the head of his length against your throbbing cunt. 

“Please,” You mumbled fervently, any ego or pride that you once had was completely down the drain now. 

Your pleads were finally rewarded, Gojo pressing himself deep into your tight walls. The immediate feeling was complete bliss, your head rolling back in pleasure as you heard a throaty moan creep it’s way out of Gojo’s mouth. His moans were so pretty — god, you’d missed the sound of them.  

He moved in and out at a tantalizingly slow pace at first, your hips bucking and wiggling as you made fervent attempts to make him go faster.

“So eager…” He shook his head, continuing to move at a pace that was absolutely agonizing — you thought you might die if he didn’t rail the hell out of you soon. 

“Please, fuck,” You gasped, “Stop moving so goddamn slowly”. 

“Your whines are so pretty, baby. Say my name and maybe I’ll give you what you want,” He murmured, his voice low and husky. 

“Fucking hell,” You gritted your teeth, “Please Satoru, please fuck me already”. 

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath, your words sending electricity coursing through his body. 

After hearing you say that, he was quick to give you what you wanted, picking up his pace and wrapping his hands firmly around your hips. Strangled combinations of moans, whimpers, and cries filled the air as they flew from your mouth. You didn’t care how loud or desperate you sounded, you wanted him to know how good he was making you feel. 

The two of you were an entangled mess of sweaty skin and throaty moans, Gojo filling your ears with praises and compliments the entire time. His lengthy member railed into you over and over, hitting that perfect pleasure point with each stroke and sending warm surges of ecstasy through your veins. 

Your bodies moved together in sync, your breaths aligning and your climaxes threatening to arrive simultaneously. After a few more firm strokes, you felt yourself drowning in pleasure — euphoria crashing through your body like waves. Gojo reached his end point just a few moments later, his loud cuss words and strangled moans filling your ears. 

The two of you rode out your orgasms together, and almost immediately afterwards Gojo collapsed next to you. He lazily reached up and uncuffed each of your hands, leaving the cuffs dangling from his bed posts just in case there was a round two in his future. He rolled the sticky condom off his member and tossed into a nearby trash bin, a relaxed sigh slipping between his parted lips. You peeled the black mask off of your eyes, finally able to meet his again. 

He was staring at you with eyes filled with all kinds of emotions — the emotions that he’d been too afraid to admit to the first time the two of you were together. But he wasn’t afraid of commitment anymore, he was absolutely certain about what he wanted, and it was you. 

“Stay with me,” He asked, his eyes pleading with you, “I’m ready this time, I promise. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me”. 

You found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you looked deeper into his eyes, “Of course I’ll stay, as long as you still feel this way when you wake up sober tomorrow”. 

“I’ll feel this way forever,” He pressed his head into you and mumbled into your chest, “And I’ll remind you as many times as you need to hear it”. 

You wrapped your arms around him in response, the two of you fitting impeccably together. He placed a few gentle kisses to your skin before his breathes began to slow. You found your own breathing to be evening out, your cloudy thoughts pushing you closer and closer to sleep. The two of you slowly drifted off together, your heavy breaths falling perfectly in sync.

[sunflowervolvimp3]

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London.  However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor.  Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas.  Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother.  Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off.  Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there.  Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world.  Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever.  They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother).  Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition.  Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating.  Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other.  However, their answers were always the same.  Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more.  Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything.  Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest.  His entire body glistens with water from the shower.  Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat.  Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes.  Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times.  The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times.  But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child.  Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror.  She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did.  Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up?  Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman?  Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach.  Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago?  That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed.  Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before.  She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child.  She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.  His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did.  Woke up a bit early, though.  Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right.  Brunch.  They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before.  Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked.  I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N.  I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No.  You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love.  It’s fine, promise.  I don’t mind that you saw.  I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes.  There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone.  The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night.  Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted.  There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London.  Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together.  You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through.  Harry’s already on the plane.  So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life.  She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks.  She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes.  She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago.  The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug.  One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States.  I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone.  And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon.  I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six.  Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first.  You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely.  Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV.  When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first.  It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second.  They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous.  And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them.  They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent.  His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer?  Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says.  Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes.  Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.  

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him.  She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now.  And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time.  While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal.  While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple.  He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out.  Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out.  We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard.  Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job.  I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini.  However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency.  Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning.  She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you.  Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water.  Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day.  You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love.  At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.  The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do.  She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool.  Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only.  I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right.  Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah.  I’m not very good, though.  Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha.  High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly.  To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now.  I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N.  That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core.  Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone.  She gets drunk fast and high faster.  She’s always down for a laugh.  And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah.  Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly.  She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face.  Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that.  Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul.  Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her.  He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall.  Did you two ever…?”

“What?  Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah.  I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun.  But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip.  Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes.  His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter.  Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why.  You usually tell me everything.  You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater.  Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it.  Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No.  I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall.  She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her.  Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done.  The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry.  Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers.  He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders.  Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless.  The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other.  But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again.  Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly.  It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout.  His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face.  His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later.  It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone.  Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface.  There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon.  Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth.  She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah.  They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing.  He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah.  Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk.  They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know.  I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face.  Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching.  I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching.  It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass.  You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge.  He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that.  If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair.  She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping.  The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else.  He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching.  Intimate touching.  And…being touched intimately.”  

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah.  I miss that too.  Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair.  You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass.  Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions.  And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too.  That’s always nice.  I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H.  Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control.  Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah.  I’m more like that, I think.  I usually let someone else decide.  But I like the in-between, too.  Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah.  I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you.  Kind of like…a breathlessness.  And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know.  I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice.  I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually.  But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine.  What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee.  He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me.  And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H.  That’s good. That’s…brave.  You’re not afraid of how you feel.  Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.  

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth.  She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position.  His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks.  His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university.  We were together for two years.  That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really?  No one else?  No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know.  I didn’t love any of them.  I was…infatuated.  But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark.  Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment.  He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah.  Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left.  Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry.  We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you.  And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression.  His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it.  I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites.  She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink.  You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not.  I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other.  They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry.  But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before?  Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them.  Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose.  Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms.  She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her.  Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so.  Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice.  He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it.  This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls.  She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this.  She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side.  What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry.  You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it.  I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No.  Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!  Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters.  She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose.  Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish.  When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face.  There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them.  It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right?  Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah.  I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done.  Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan.  Not right now, at least.  It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random.  I want sex, but I want to be…intimate.  Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No.  It would be nice, but no.  That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares.  I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah.  Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks.  And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…?  I mean…”

“I—yeah.  I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that.  We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild.  If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged.  His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly.  His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions.  However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this.  Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly.  His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch.  His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah.  Good.  But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck.  If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck.  He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body.  Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him.  She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now.  Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something.  And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more.  She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed.  Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly.  If anything, she thinks, it’s worse.  She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was.  She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love.  Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch.  Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others.  She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore.  She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles.  She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.  

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish.  He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm.  Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.  With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance.  His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed.  His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it.  There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own.  Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose.  Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath.  He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach.  His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once.  She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body.  When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones.  She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair.  She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular.  Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching.  She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts.  Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him.  However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know.  I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah.  It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you.  I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves.  Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day.  I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking.  I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you.  And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do.  I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends.  This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless.  You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know.  All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods.  She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away.  Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement.  Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation.  This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate.  Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top.  His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before.  Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time.  Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark.  She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side.  Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again.  This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure.  With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.  

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious.  His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that.  Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction.  Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them.  Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence.  She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to.  She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep.  Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple.  He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger.  The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth.  He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad.  Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed.  Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top.  When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.  

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there.  In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes.  She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair.  She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down.  Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair.  She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry.  Just relax, yeah?  It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center.  When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties.  Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure.  Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her.  YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt.  His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can.  Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him.  However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth.  He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H.  I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before.  Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.  

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes.  Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness.  He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again.  She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently.  She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H.  I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours.  Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you.  Feel your weight.  Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between.  He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them.  He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between.  I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah.  I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling.  A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before.  Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete.  He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up.  While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her.  This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her.  Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer.  As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her.  As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop.  Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible.  Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication.  Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language.  When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being.  When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge.  He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you.  Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her.  He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.  

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again.  He can’t think of anything else to say.  He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her.  She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance.  It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are.  Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one.  The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm.  Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring.  And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom.  Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes.  Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed.  He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again.  She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know.  Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later.  His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H.  Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry.  Of course it’s Harry.  It’s always been Harry.  In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry.  She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm.  Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover.  A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers.  She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time.  He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same.  If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually.  I made your drinks.  And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No.  I don’t.  Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it.  It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms.  So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment.  It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead.  Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H.  Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N.  I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach.  Not right now.  And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you.  I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N.  I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out.  Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.  He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl.  You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always.  Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades.  Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost.  I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.  I’ll make it work.  I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H.  I do.  I need you.  I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this.  I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No.  It feels right.  Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it.  At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent.  Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t.  But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N.  I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something.  I’ve loved it.  I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will.  I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah.  It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying!  We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah.  We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating?  You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay.  Nope.  Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love.  Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body.  He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together.  One less record for you.”

“Good.  Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

[mrsmaybank]

Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me. 

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing 

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all.  Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak. 

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame. 

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie. 

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true. 

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along. 

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it. 

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted. 

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.” 

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles. 

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-” 

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.  

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.”  Spencer heard you say. 

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.” 

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?” 

He smiled, “Yes.” 

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.” 

“You went to Columbia?” he asked. 

“I just graduated.” 

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself,  “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.” 

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.” 

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.” 

Your eyes went wide, “12?” 

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.” 

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.” 

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare. 

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

  “Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did. 

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.” 

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said. 

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier. 

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.” 

-----------------------------------

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team. 

In the bullpen: 

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato. 

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear. 

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk. 

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back. 

On the jet: 

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board. 

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.”  He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book. 

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances. 

Even in front of you: 

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring. 

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on  heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!” 

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…” 

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer. 

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid.  She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?” 

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.” 

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

-----------------------------------

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name. 

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth. 

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile. 

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?” 

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.” 

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him. 

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.” 

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.” 

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

--------------------------------------

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music,  and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated. 

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it. 

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves. 

“It feels great.” You nodded. 

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.” 

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--” 

--------------------------------------------

You and Spencer just understood each other. 

[caelenjester]

“Do you normally take this shitty care of yourself, or is it just for me?” Cleo’s voice was loud, and he winced, sitting up.

“Huh?”

“Don’t act dumb, you must have known what happened. First I’m busy trying to ignore your existence, next, you do it for me.” For having her wish granted, she seemed pretty pissed off. Martyn shook his head.

“Why are you talking in riddles?! ‘Suppose it’s bound to happen to us all though, it’s only a matter of time.” Martyn spat bitterly, thinking of the watchers.

“I don’t know what that means, and you know what? I don’t care. Don’t even know why I came over here if you weren’t going to be useful.” Cleo huffed, looking out the cave. Martyn finally recognized they were in a cave. The cave he had built the nether portal in, with the lava pit. It was sweltering hot.

“Why the hell are you in here?”

“How did you find me?”

Cleo gave him a withering look and he shut up, not interested enough in the answer for whatever consequences Cleo would give for asking it. She didn’t want to tell him and so neither would he.

“I’m waiting.”

“No, go ahead.”

There was silence for a minute before she processed that meant he would continue to let her wait.

“I’m getting real sick of you, and your lack of self care- tell me, I’m curious- are you- well, are you always like this?!”

He was running through the forest. He didn’t mind the cuts from the trees. That was far better than the alternative. His skin was cracked and red in some places, a result from keeping the torch too close. He repeated phrases over and over in his mind.

I’m not scared.

I’m not hungry.

I’m not tired.

I’m not about to die.

After awhile, it actually seemed to work. Later he learned what dissociating was.

-

Cleo was staring at him.

Oh.

“Uh- yeah.”

To his shock, he actually told the truth. He hadn’t meant to, it just came out. Thankfully, he didn’t elaborate, or force himself to say any more.

“Oh. Well. Yeah, that’s all of us at some point. You have someone who’s literally feeling your pain, can’t you…you know…do a little better? Please?”

Martyn looked back at the lava, watching it bubble.

“Yeah. Sure.” It came out short. Cleo grew annoyed, and he heard her angrily walk away. He must’ve passed out, then. Exhaustion, lack of food- he stared at the lava, mesmerized. Dehydration.

He hated it. Everyone else seemed fine, but of course he was paired with the single worst person that could have been chosen. He was cold. Or rather, Cleo was cold. But she didn’t notice, not having the nerves to register it. None of them had really thought about the possibly of being paired up with someone of the supernatural variety. He shivered and debating just throwing himself in the lava altogether.

But that wouldn’t change anything, and even in death, he’d probably still feel the same.

Don’t think about it, it’s in the past.

Frost blew through the land, and Martyn cried out. No, no, no-

He blinked at the lava, feeling the hairs on his arm start to burn- too close. He expected anger from her. But it was just overwhelming tiredness. It made him want to cry, a distant memory at the feeling.

”I don’t know what would happen, hand.” The king, his king, stared out at the land, a worried look on his face.

“If what, m’lord?” Martyn got up, walking over and seeing what he was looking at. It was nothing. Just the land.

“What would happen, hand, if summer never came? Would winter last forever, or would the strength of the sun’s rays cast it back before it crept out under the moon’s gaze?”

“I’m not following, m’lord.”

Ren turned and smiled, but he still looked worried. “Ah, well. I’m praying ye never have to find out.” He left, muttering about going to meet Scar to talk about the table. Martyn noticed on the ground there were small specks of white snowflakes.

-

Martyn got up, shaking his head, trying to right himself before forcing himself to move away from the lava. It was cold. He was used to it. That wasn’t what bothered him.

He didn’t want to think about what was.

-

He ended up at Big b and Ren’s place, in the end. Stupid. It wouldn’t do anything, it would only make things worse. He distracted himself by……trying to find a way to get in, actually. They didn’t have a door. Who just casually doesn’t have a door, what the hell’s wrong with these two? He hesitated before knocking on the wall, committing.

“Who’s down there?!”

“Rapunzel, let down your hair, I just must see your humble abode.” Bitterness seeped into his monotone call slightly and he tried to hide it by yawning. “Anyone else tired constantly?”

“Hold on, I’m coming down. And yeah. Ren snores.”

There was a startled sound from somewhere inside the hideous block. Distantly, Martyn heard “I do not snore!”

“Sure, sure.” Big B’s voice was muffled behind the wall before he broke an entrance for Martyn before brightening. “So, what can I do for you? What- what brings you here?”

“Oh, just, yknow, visiting. I haven’t seen your guy’s base yet, and I don’t uh…” he said offhandedly before trailing off, staring at big b.

“I don’t have a soulmate,” he admitted finally, after big b’s confused expression.

“What- but- I thought that everyone- huh?”

“Yeahhh, well. I do, but I don’t. Mind if I come in?” He switched the topic, forcing a smile.

“Sure, yeah! Of course! Right this way,” Big b led him inside, showing him the slightly better interior compared to the exterior. He went on a brief seven minute tour that went a little longer than necessary because big b felt the need to show off any cool item he thought Martyn wouldn’t have (he either did or did not care about it).

“-and this is the not-so-second floor.”

“The ‘not-so-second-floor’,” Martyn quoted before laughing.

“Listen! Listen! It’s a- it’s a work in progress, alright? Leave us alone.” Big b laughed with him before Ren poked his head around a corner.

“I’ve been working on some things, sorry! Trying to make a bedroom but all that’s been yielded for my hard work is-“

And arrow flew past him, nicking his ear and big b and Ren both hissed, hand instinctively going to it.

“Yeah- well- that. Nothing but a mob farm up here.”

“Uh oh, that’s not good!” Martyn laughed, “need any help?”

Ren snorted, offhandedly saying, “nah, don’t want your soul bound getting angry at us if you die! There’s quite a lot of mobs.”

“Woah, hold on, then you shouldn’t be up there either then if there’s that many, right?” Big b protested. Both of them ignored how Martyn’s jaw clenched. “‘Cuz I am also not chill with you dying!”

A bit of being injured never hurt her. I’m not so sure if she can even feel it to be quite honest. But he didn’t say that, instead nodding politely as Big B started shouting at Ren to be careful.

“Careful, m’lord! They’re coming from all sides! We’re surrounded!”

“Hand.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

He had noticed it too late, Scar creeping up behind him with the bow. He must have been low, too low, to save.

“My king!” Martyn shouted, no, screamed as frost covered the land, much more than was usual for him, too much for him to have been able to control. He hadn’t found out either, in the end. Not only did he fail his king, he died in the same carnage that had taken him. He hadn’t found out what he had meant.

He wasn’t sure if any of them had.

He shook his head violently, trying to forget it. Distantly, he heard laughter between Big B and Ren. He looked up to see Ren had covered the entrance to the room with dirt, while Big B was shaking his head, a smile on his face.

He wasn’t sure why he was here. In last life, Ren hadn’t contacted him much at all. A passing hello. That was it. He had moved on. They all had, it seemed. Everyone except him.

He muttered some excuse about needing to get wool or something and left. He wasn’t sure if they had even noticed. Everyone was having fun with their pairs, and there wasn’t a single person who wasn’t with them- or, rather, a single person Martyn could talk to.

He had already burned the bridges with the one other person who knew how he felt, but those flames didn’t warm him at all.

Because Pearl didn’t know how he felt. Not a single person physically could. He had a constant reminder of the past tied to him via his souldbound, and Cleo didn’t even realize. With a start, Martyn realized it was getting to be night. He looked around, confused, as he had just been at Big b and Ren’s. Now, he was climbing up the hill that was spawn.

He made a shack in the stone, in a small staircase down that lead to nowhere. He holed up, waiting for day. The torch he had placed flickered. There was nothing for him to do. He had tried mining deeper, before realizing he didn’t care about getting more resources. He didn’t want to go out and risk pissing Cleo off more.

So he just sat, and waited. Having nothing to distract himself felt scarier than a hostile mob.

He stared at the explosion of frost, refusing to believe what he saw. He would say red seeped into the ground, but it didn’t. It hung like icicles in the air and spiked up, frozen around where the king had fallen onto the earth.

He didn’t see Scar approaching. He didn’t see the way the light seemed to warp around the weapon, charged with malevolent energy. He didn’t see the relief in Scar’s eyes as Martyn didn’t move to protect himself, to attack. He didn’t see the way his king reached for his aid, his help, in death. He didn’t notice the tears falling to the earth.

He didn’t.

He didn’t.

He didn’t.

He didn’t.

He remembered why Cleo’s bone deep tiredness bothered him.

Fire was just as bad, honestly. It made him think of the Southlands, the way the flames licked at the wood and taking every broken promise of loyalty with it. But at least he could choose that.

Oh.

With a start, Martyn laughed, suddenly finding the whole situation funny. He at first thought it was some joke by the watchers, tying him to someone he didn’t have any interest in befriending, someone who he was polar opposites with. He very clearly finally understood what Cleo wanted from him.

It was to get as far, far away from him as possible, to ignore fate pushing itself onto them.

He snorted. He could do that.

Perhaps Cleo and him weren’t so different after all.

[kuroopaisen]

brat || gojou satoru

➵ gojou wants you to pay attention to him. and no, he doesn’t care about how annoying he’s being. 

wc: 2k

warnings: gn!reader, gojou is Annoying, mild spoilers i guess? 

a/n: hi welcome to my gojou brainrot i would like to escape and yet i cannot,,, will i deliver more mindless fanfic? who knows! 

You sigh, turning the page of your book with an exhausted kind of resignation. Had you even comprehended what’s in the last paragraph? Or had you just let your eyes gloss over it, admiring the shape of the letters without actually taking any of them in?

Reading a book isn’t so difficult under normal circumstances; sure, you’ve got your own concentration to wrestle with, but that’s an (occasionally) tameable beast.

The man sprawled on the couch next to you, however, is not.

“Are you done yet?” Gojou hums, sticking his legs straight up in the air.

“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up,” you mumble, starting from the top of the page for what feels like the thirty-second time in the past five minutes.

Gojou’s not handling the boredom well. He’s spent the past five minutes cycling between humming Danse Macabre in an octave too high to be comfortable while swinging his legs in circles and poking your cheek as he crouches next to you on his knees.

“You’re the one who said I could come over,” he chirps, completely unfazed by your words.

“I never said that,” you mumble.

It’s not a lie. Earlier today, Gojou’d asked if you were going out tonight. You’d said no. He’d decided to take that as permission to crash at your place.

Although the onus is at least a little on you; he has a habit of doing things like this. You’ve got to be one step ahead of him if you want to win against him on a petty debate like that.

A head of white hair wriggles its way onto your lap.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m bored,” he hums.

That much is obvious. But you know it’s not that simple; he’s bored, yes, but more importantly, he wants your attention. Even your chest flutters at that.

“You’re a grown man,” you smile. “Entertain yourself.”

A well-worn coquettish smile plays on his lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being lewd or not.”

You slap his chest.

“Ow!” He gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to me!”

“Then stop being annoying.”

“I’d like to think I’m ‘charmingly playful’.”

“Do you take constructive criticism?” You tilt your head at him, biting back a smile.

“I would,” he muses, “if I weren’t already perfect.”

“That ego of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day,” you grin, flicking his forehead gently.

He lets you, grinning back. “Ah, but you see, my dear,” he hums, grabbing your hand before you draw it away and lacing your fingers with his. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but you don’t mind.

“I’m simply stating the truth.”

“Well, the truth hurts,” you mutter, “so it’s no surprise no-one wants to hear you gassing yourself up.”

Gojou laughs. His hair tickles your inner thighs and you’re almost convinced to give in. But it wouldn’t be good form to feed his ego after chiding him for it.

You’re well-aware his ego’s already gotten him in trouble – many times, in fact. But Gojou seems to have a way of wheedling his way out of anything.

And, of course, you know that his ego doesn’t come from nowhere.

Doesn’t stop it from being annoying, though. The fact it’s at least partially well-founded makes it worse.

You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to this blasted book. Gojou will just have to wait.

“Why are you even reading that brick?” He muses, tapping the bottom of the book’s spine with one long finger. “You look bored out of your mind. And, you’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”

“You know,” you tilt your head to the side, a sour look on your face. “‘Adult stuff.’ Upskilling and all that.”

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “Career work.”

“Mhm,” you sigh. “And some of us can’t just learn on the job.”

Although, you ponder, the thought blurred with gentle melancholy, some of us aren’t constantly risking our lives.

Gojou always tells you not to worry; he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, after all. But even that’s not enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep, to bring you warmth when your bed is cold.

You’re never truly at ease until you feel him slip into your bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms slinking around your waist and pulling you towards him. It’s like clockwork how he buries his head in your shoulder as every muscle in his body relaxes. He always thinks you’re asleep – and honestly, it’s easier to let him keep believing that.

What you’ve got isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’. At least, not in the most traditional sense of the word. Gojou’s never pretended to offer you that. But it’s not so simple as a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement.

Gojou Satoru doesn’t suit the domestic. But he relishes in it, the same way a child might enjoy playing at high tea with little plastic teacups and cupcakes made of playdough. Some might find this frustrating – the idea of existing in this grey, a dark, nebulous unknown stippled with moments of affection and vulnerability.

But there’s still comfort in it; a sense of understanding, a place to let loose and relax. Being part of this world is hard. It’s so cruel – sending children out to fight things they barely comprehend, letting them suffer and even die. And what do they have to show for it? A future of doing the same thing while also having to navigate just how shit the world of sorcerers truly is?

Why aren’t more of your colleagues angry about this? One counsellor isn’t enough to maintain the wellbeing of these children. Do the higher-ups even care? Well, you know the answer to that question – it’s enough to make you want to throttle each and every one of them—

“Hey.”

You clatter back to earth, met by a pair of electric blue eyes. It’s easy to forget just how striking they are; it’s like they can stare right into your very core, laying out secrets you never even knew you had.

“Hm?” You blink at him. You can’t risk him knowing you’re worried. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing; he’ll just tease you for being concerned about him. Though, you’re well-aware that he enjoys being doted on.

“You’re spacing out,” he smiles. “Again.”

Sure, he sounds like he’s joking. But even he can’t disguise that little flash in his eyes, the slight tension in his face. It’s the same expression he has when he talks about that new student of his.

Gojou understands you better than you’d like. Every little tell, every tiny hint towards what you’re actually thinking. It’s near impossible to hide anything from him; it’s irritating, really.

But, at least he’s got the decency to leave the direction of the conversation in your hands.

You weigh it for a moment, deciding how exactly to respond. Should you play it off and throw his brattiness back in his face? Or should you pry open that conversation like the doors of an old temple?

Today’s not the day. Neither of you are ready for that.

You stick your tongue out at him. Perhaps it’s not how an adult should behave, but you don’t care. Neither does Gojou.

“I think,” he sighs, plucking the book out of your hands and tossing it across the room, “it’s time you took a break.”

You yelp a moment too late, watching your book slap against the wall and flop to the floor. It’s only a paperback – thank God – but you’re not ready to fix another dent in the wall caused by the force of mayhem known as Gojou Satoru.

“And I have been waiting long enough,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your neck and launching forward.

“Satoru—”

It’s too late. He’s got you pinned beneath him – and not in a sexy way. All six feet and three inches of him is laid flat on top of you, your face smothered by his chest.

You punch his side weakly.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he laughs.

“Fine,” you try to say. All you get is a mouthful of Gojou’s shirt. You slip your hands up said shirt and tickle his sides.

“Hey, hey, hey—” He splutters, grabbing at your wrists.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You smirk, continuing your assault.

Gojou whines, propping himself up by his palms and arching his back like a cat in an attempt to shake you off.

“Get back here,” you grin, lifting your torso in response.

His arms are immediately wrapped around you, pinning your own arms to your sides. You yelp in surprise, finding yourself laid gently against the couch with your face pressed against his neck.

“Much better,” Gojou chuckles, still on top of you as he nestles his head into your shoulder.

It’s not the most comfortable position, but that’s rarely a priority when it comes to Gojou. You wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t just his way of goading you into relocating to your bed for ease of cuddling (although you have your doubts that it’s the only thing on his mind).

“You want attention that bad, huh?” You chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

“Mhm,” he smirks, bringing his head up to get a proper look at you. “I’m a busy man, you know. I don’t think you’re appreciating my free time enough.”

“And yet, you never seem to leave my damn house,” you muse. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually have a job.”

Gojou laughs, leaning down and kissing you properly.

“That’s not an answer,” you say against his lips.

He ignores you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You sigh, conceding. His lips are so soft yet so persistent, somehow both desperate and playful. He’s aggravatingly good at this sort of thing – before Gojou, you didn’t really understand what it meant to be a ‘good kisser’. But of course, he manages to excel at this, too. And annoyingly enough, he’d been right to brag about it.  

He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and moves another down to your waist. It’s a surprisingly chaste move for him, but you don’t mind. You tangle your own hands in his hair, resisting the urge to tug it. If you do that, you’ll officially lose any chance of getting more reading done tonight. Although your ability to focus on anything other than him is waning quickly.

When Gojou pulls back, he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that always makes your cheeks flush, makes your heart feel a little lighter. The one that almost makes you say something stupid.

Thank God you always have your wits about you.

“You get five minutes,” you sigh. “And then you’ve got to let me finish the chapter I’m on, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

Gojou’s grin blossoms with delight.

He slots himself beneath your chin and rests his cheek against your chest. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You smile, propping your chin on the top of his head and wrapping your arms around him.

Despite all his big talk, his irksome demeanour, even his obnoxious height, Gojou Satoru loves to be held.

You always oblige. He never asks – that’s too close to admitting weakness.

But you understand. He needs this. Sometimes he just wants to be tended to.

Being let in like this is an honour. He’s letting you be part of his life, despite his grand plans. Plans that, when he’d told you them, shifted your whole understanding of him.

Gojou represents change.

You have to have faith in him. You have to believe he’ll make good on his promises and turn the sorcerer world on its head. It’s no easy burden; and despite what he claims, even he falters in the face of something so monumental.

But despite all that, he’s still him. He hasn’t let the weight of his goals crush him; at least, not entirely. He finds the little joys, indulges in mundane delights, sees the humour in things.

Gojou Satoru wants to change the world, but he still lets himself be a part of it.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to love him.

Even if he can’t offer the stability and promise of a stable relationship.

Even if he’s a little brat.

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can we get sequel to goose’s best friend??? That was fantastic

I'll have you all know I had this saved under the working title "Goose's Mom Has Got It Going On"

Goose's Best Friend, Part 2

Part 1

Summary: After finding out your flirty pen-pal was Carol Danvers, you have to see if you can look past your shared past and make it work.

Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,897

A date with Carol Danvers was dangerous. There were about a million things that could go horribly wrong, all of which you ran over in your head as you walked to the cafe down the street, the blonde in question at your side. Neither of you had spoken a single word since you’d agreed to a coffee date after she’d shown up at your apartment and admitted that she had been the girl you’d been flirting with over the little notes on Goose’s collar.

When she’d first showed up at your door, you’d refused her.

You hated Carol Danvers, right? She was arrogant, self-centred, and an all-around pain in the ass. She was not a joy to be around and that had never, not once, been debatable. Not until that moment when, for some unknown reason, your heart skipped a beat when that too-familiar grin crossed her lips. You’d managed to ignore the feeling, tightening your grip on the doorknob to ready yourself to shut the passage that was open between you.

“Danvers,” you’d said, suppressing the shake in your voice. “Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Wasted my time? What do you mean?”

“We’ve never gotten along much, have we? Who’s to say that should start now?”

You’d tried to shut the door, then, but she’d put her foot in the way. “Coffee. Tomorrow morning.”

Uncertainty was something you thought you’d never see in the eyes of the army pilot. Yet, there she’d stood, gaze cast just past your head at the golden numbers nailed to your apartment door. It was something that made you momentarily forget just who it was. That show of uncertainty was comforting to you. It showed she’d changed. If she could change her attitude for just a moment then, who was to say she couldn’t change her attitude just a little more? You wanted to meet the Carol who had sent you all those notes.

“Tomorrow morning,” you’d agreed. Then you’d shut the door.

Now, here you were, walking into the small cafe at her side. She held the door open for you, an awkward smile tugging at her lips as she did. Your smile was just as forced, and the quiet thank you just as uncomfortable. Neither of you fit into the atmosphere one bit. It was calm, peaceful, and comfortable inside. You were wringing your hands together because you weren’t sure what to do with them, and your gaze was locked to the ground, unsure if you should be looking at Carol or not.

You finally stepped up to the front of the line, eyes travelling over the board quickly. Carol ordered a black coffee, and then her eyes turned to you. You cleared your throat hard before you ordered yourself a drink. When the barista asked suddenly, if it was together or separate, you and Carol both tensed up impossibly more. Her mouth opened and then shut once as she tried to find words. After forty-five seconds of tense silence, you whipped your wallet out.

“Together. Credit.”

You paid for both drinks and then moved to wait for them to be prepared. The entire time you waited, neither you nor Carol spoke a word. Instead, you bathed in the most uncomfortable silence you’d ever felt before in your entire life. Finally, the drinks arrived. You handed Carol hers, and she led you to a table in the corner. You both sat down, the silence reigning until you finally decided to clear your throat and be the first to speak.

“So, you have a cat.”

“Yeah. He’s a good cat. I got him from a friend,” Carol said, before sipping her drink. “Long story.”

You decided not to prod about that. You didn’t know her well enough to. Instead, you only nodded in response. You took to glancing around the room, something that gave you a reason to look away from Carol whilst not seeming awkward about it. There weren’t many other people in the cafe, and you didn’t stare too long at any one of them, lest they think you were being rude. Eventually, your gaze moved back to the blonde across from you.

“So, I guess this was unexpected,” Carol laughed tightly. “Me, I mean.”

“I was surprised. It was… unexpected,” you repeated.

“You don’t sound overly pleased.”

You had to stop and think about that. You’d been avoiding pondering just how you felt about this. When you’d worked up the confidence to ask your anonymous pen-pal to a coffee date, you’d been quite excited. Once you’d found out just who you’d asked on a date, though, your feelings had changed. You were still open to it, even if you were a little more hesitant. It made you nervous. Carol Danvers had never liked you and you’d never liked her. She’d spent every moment you’d ever spent with her teasing and taunting you and you’d never enjoyed it.

“Surprised,” you repeated. “We’ve never much gotten along.”

Carol shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t ecstatic either, you know.”

That was starting to sound a little more like the Carol you knew. Of course she would say something like that. For a second you had to stop and remind yourself of who you were talking to. You took a deep breath, focused on the warm drink in your hands, and then looked back up at the army pilot. She wasn’t looking at you, the comment she’d made obviously not having meant anything to her. That fact almost made you even angrier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carol only let her gaze flicker to you once before turning it back to whatever she was looking at behind you. “I mean it’s you,” she said nonchalantly. She looked back at you. “But I came anyway. After those notes, how couldn’t I?”

“You came anyway,” you repeated with a scoff. “And that was right after you overlooked the fact that it was me, right?”

Your voice had risen just enough that the table next to you was able to hear your conversation. They may have been trying to be discreet about it, but you know the young couple sitting across each other, hands clasped under the table, were listening in. Every once in a while their eyes would wander to your table, their conversation had dropped, and they were leaning a little closer than necessary. You wanted to give them a rude gesture with your hands, but then again, you wanted to give that same gesture to your date.

Carol rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you did mean.”

“You’re not exactly my type, you know.”

“And what’s that mean, Danvers? I'm not exciting enough for you? Pardon me for enjoying peace and quiet.” You stood up. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the coffee.”

You stood up and left your half-empty drink on the table, making for the exit. Carol didn’t stop you.

*

You were half tempted to hang up on the woman that was on and on in your ear. You lay back against the arm of the sofa, tucking the cordless phone between your ear and your shoulder. You grabbed the TV remote off the end table beside you and turned the TV on. It was the time of day for your favourite TV show. The sound of the theme song caught the attention of your best friend. She gave a very loud shout of protest, making you scramble for the phone to pull it away from your ear.

“You are not seriously watching TV right now!”

“I am seriously watching TV. Miami Vice is on.”

“You need to go knock on Carol’s door, and-”

You snarled. After the whole incident with the notes on Goose’s collar, you’d been unable to not think about the sweet side of Carol. When you saw her or saw Goose, it’d been all you thought about. But you’d gotten over it. Once more Carol no longer elicited any feelings other than rage. That was how you liked it. There was no want for anything else. In fact, you made sure that Carol no longer took up more than five minutes of your thoughts. You didn’t need to let her rule your life like that.

“I won’t do any such thing. I’d rather date the Wicked Witch of the fucking West.”

“Well, pretty soon that’s going to be your only option left.”

“You should see me right now. I've practically fallen off my seat with laughter,” you said, sarcasm coating your words.

There was a knock at your door before she could answer. You didn’t even tell her as you put the phone down on the coffee table, turned the volume down on the TV, and headed for the front door. You opened it up without checking who it was, and your eyebrows furrowed momentarily when no one was there. When Goose strode into your apartment with confidence, though, you couldn’t help but smile. You shut the door behind him and picked up the phone once more.

“Sorry. I had to get the door,” you muttered, jamming the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you reached for the cat treats.

“Was it Carol?”

“It was not,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It was my new best friend.”

“New best friend?!” She hesitated a moment. “It’s that cat, isn’t it?”

You decided not to dignify that with an answer. You turned to hand Goose one of the treats, only to find that he’d disappeared. You glanced every which way to find him, but the tabby was nowhere in sight. His presence was announced when you heard the shatter from the living room. The red mug that your grandmother had given you for your birthday was in pieces on the floor. You scowled at the cat, but when he glanced up at you with wide eyes, you found you couldn’t stay mad at him. Instead, you grabbed the dustpan and hung up the phone with a quick apology.

As you swept the red pieces of ceramic off the floor, you glance up at Goose. Casually, he licked one of his front paws where he was sat upon the coffee table. You might have looked away, but you noticed the small piece of paper taped around his collar. There was some unidentifiable feeling swirling around in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Carol since the incident in the cafe. You had half a mind to just leave the paper where it was, but you found, as you dumped the broken mug in the trash and tried to resume watching your show, you couldn’t get your mind off it. Finally, when Goose made to stride past you, you reached out and took it.

For a few long moments, you held it folded in your hands. There was no way there was any sort of apology on the small note. That was not the style of Carol Danvers. Not that you knew, anyway. You turned it over a few more times in your hands before you finally unfolded it, still hesitating before you read it. Goose was watching you as if he were interested to see what your expression might be. You glanced down at the untidy scrawl that belonged to your least-favourite neighbour.

Can we talk?

You wanted to write out a simple no as a reply. She didn’t deserve that, did she? Not when you’d already given her a chance after she’d been nothing but terrible to you for well over a year. You crumpled the note and threw it across the room, watching it fall on the floor beside the TV. With nothing more than a simple grumble, you reached for the TV remote, turning up the volume, sitting back, and putting all of your attention into the show in front of you.

*

The sun streaming through the window of your bedroom was blinding. You’d been too distracted to remember to close the curtains the night before, so it was unobstructed as it was amplified by the glass pane in your window and shone into your eyes. With a hand raised to protect your eyes, you glanced over at the digital clock that was sat on your nightstand. You’d slept in. That fact didn’t surprise you much. You hadn’t slept much.

Only when you let your head fall back against the pillows once more, eyes squeezed shut to protect them from the bright light, did you realize the second presence you could feel in your room. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little surprised that it was still present. You reached out with your left arm, using it to feel around the bed to find them. It didn’t take long, the other body being well within your reach. Your hand made contact so that you were both awake.

“You’re still here,” you mumbled, stretching as you turned your head to meet open eyes. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Of course, Goose didn’t answer.

He’d been your companion the night before when you’d been tossing and turning, unable to get your brain to stop thinking about Carol’s note that was still crumpled into a small ball on the floor in your living room. He’d sat by your side and let you stroke the fur on his head as your mind raced, your own thoughts not letting you get a good night’s sleep. Eventually, he’d even curled up next to you on your bed, a strong sense of comfort coming from the action. You ran a hand over his head.

“Thanks, Buddy.”

He mewed in response.

You decided it was well time to get up, so you rolled off the bed. The first thing you did was jump in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the stress from the night before. When you emerged in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Goose was still on the bed. You waved for him to follow you into the kitchen. You started the coffee maker and went to the fridge to grab the creamer. There was none left. You groaned, the noise drowned out by Goose’s loud cry from behind you. He was sitting by the empty bag of treats.

“Yeah, me too,” you grumbled. “Wait here. I’ll go get more.”

So, you grabbed your keys, slid your feet into your shoes, and headed out the front door. You weren’t expected for Carol to be there, hand raised as if she’d been preparing to knock on the door. For a brief moment, she glanced behind you to take a look at Goose on the kitchen counter. Her gaze moved back to you. You were still a little shocked, not having been prepared for the early-morning (or, technically, early-afternoon) encounter outside your door.

“He stayed the night?” She asked.

“Mhm.”

It was a stupid response, and you cursed yourself for it right away. She didn’t seem to think twice of it. Her eyes were searching your face carefully. You didn’t know what she was looking for, but you were forcing yourself from blushing bright red. Judging by the absence of her usual smirk, she didn’t know that. You shut the door behind you, stepping around Carol to remove yourself from the closeness you’d been forced into.

“I was just going to get some coffee creamer. Did you want him back?” You said, shoving the keys into your pocket.

“No,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

You could’ve slammed your palm into your forehead. Of course that’s why she was looking for you. She’d actually told you that she’d wanted to talk. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d sought you out to do just that. You supposed that’s what you got for not giving her a response. You nodded, finally, and leaned against the wall behind you, arms crossed over your chest. It was a posture that made you look closed off, and that was exactly what you wanted.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” she began slowly. “And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I’ve lived here.”

Maybe you’d been mistaken. Maybe she did know how to apologize.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I’m sorry I stormed out.”

“I was just… I was hoping you’d give me another chance. Maybe lunch this time. On me.”

You sighed. “How many chances do you think you deserve, Carol?”

You’d meant to ask the question with anger. It had been intended as something rhetorical. What it came out as, though, was hurt and broken. At some point, it had become a sincere question. With eyes just as sincere, though, Carol took one single step closer.

“I just need one more.”

You hesitated. She’d hurt you. She was dangerous. But she didn’t want much. Just one more chance. You wanted to give it to her. You wanted to let her try and prove herself. That’s what your heart wanted. Your head was powerful, though, and rejected the feelings of your heart. It was screaming something different.

It was only one more chance, but you had to decide if she deserved it.

“Why don’t you start by walking with me to the store?” You offered.

Carol nodded. “I can do that.”

And, just maybe, that was the start of one more chance.