#I’m very positive that this fic is at least halfway done. so that’s good

[stemroses]

So my almost 8k fic has been rearranged and deleted two whole chapters and now I’m back to 5k. :/

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛ You Did Well ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Type: Comfort Fluff(?)

Warning(s): human experimentation, not proofread

wc: ~1.4k

A request by one of the readers! It's been so long I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like I've gotten off track with this one... but I hope you'll like this anyways! The first fic I've written in months. Enjoy! :)

After years of working like a maniac. Earning achievements after achievements. Rivaling all the other people that could only hope to get to where you were today. You finally landed yourself a job at the organization created by none other than the beloved Cryo archon herself—the Fatui. And it was not just any job positions. You got to become the assistant of one of the eleven harbingers—The Doctor, second of the Fatui Harbingers. A very impressive title indeed.

You’ve heard people there were ruthless. It didn’t help that being in such a high ranking yourself, newbie or not, there were high expectations that needed to be met. And whatever it was, you hoped you were ready.

Oh god, oh no. You panicked. It was the first day of work and you were almost late. You arrived in front of the office just in time as you panted. You tried to fix your disheveled hair to make you look like you did not just run all the way over here. To your dismay, someone opened the door before you could make yourself look presentable.

You gulped and looked up.

“Hello, sir,” you greeted, praying he didn’t hear the slight shakiness in your voice.

He was wearing a mask, but you could feel his gaze scanning you up and down.

“Hmph,” he then walked out before continuing, “You are the new assistant, aren’t you? Wait for me inside.”

He was already halfway down the hall when you scurried inside. You could feel your face burning in embarrassment.

Great. You thought. First day and I’m already making a fool of myself.

A few minutes later, he came back in, holding a stack of papers in his hand. He placed them down onto a tidied desk with a sign saying “(Y/n)” on it.

“Usually, I’d go straight into lab work with the assistants on their first day.” He spoke, leaning onto the desk. “But, I decided to try something new today. All of my previous assistants quitted in less than a week, due to them not being able to handle the pressure.”

He continued, “I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let you start off with something easy by doing paperwork. If you did well, good for you. If not, I’ll fire you on the spot so you wouldn’t waste my time.”

As expected, The Doctor certainly has high demands. You glanced at the amount of paperwork that needed to be done on your desk. You’ve stayed up countless times to complete your thesis before, this was nothing you couldn’t handle. With this newfound confidence, you firmly nodded your head.

“Understood. I’ll get to them right away.”

From his stance, he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.

“When you’re done with them, just leave them on my desk. If you have any questions, don’t bother asking me. Just solve them yourself,” he said, before entering the other section of the office that leads to the lab.

You took a seat at your desk and picked up a pen.

Well then, time to get some work done.

= = =

For the first week, work wasn’t so bad. Most of the time it was just tons and tons of paperwork. It got boring after a while, but at least you were able to get them done on time. Earning yourself a pleased hum from The Doctor each time you handed them in.

So far, so good.

“The paperwork for today is done, sir,” you said, placing the papers down onto his desk.

He nodded. “As efficient as always. I think you’re ready.”

You were puzzled by what he meant. You wanted to ask but didn’t want to bother him. So you just left, hoping whatever he was implying wasn’t anything bad.

= = =

The next day came and you were up and early, waiting for him at your desk. He entered the office not too long after, but something was different, he wasn’t holding a stack of paper like he normally was. Instead, it was a lab coat.

“Judging by your work these past few days, I’ve decided that you’re ready for something a little more… exciting.” He then threw the lab coat at you, for you to clumsily catch it.

“Follow me.” Was all he said before opening the doors to the lab. You quickly put your coat on before following closely behind.

The first thing you noticed was the pungent, iron-like scent, your nose picked up on in the air. It made your stomach twist and turn. The Doctor’s frame was taller than yours, blocking your view of the center of the room.

“This, as you may have already guessed by the interior, is the lab. And today, we’re going to do some testing with the new liquid I concocted on a volunteering subject.” He then moved away from your view. And what you saw in front of you made your skin crawl.

The Doctor put some gloves on and went over to the person, who was very much alive, strapped down to the operation table with multiple wounds apparent on his body.

“Come,” he simply said, gesturing you to go over to where he was standing.

You could feel your legs wobbling as you walked to him. Your steps were hesitant and your eyes were on the person with a gag in his mouth, muffling his pained pleas. You then felt something in your hand. You looked at what The Doctor gave to you—a syringe filled with some glowing liquid.

The Doctor took some disinfectant wipes and applied it onto the subject’s arm, preparing for an injection.

You could feel cold sweat forming on your palms. You knew experiments would get involved taking up this job. But you were not expecting to have a human test subject. One that was still living and breathing.

This… this isn’t right. Your mind screamed.

The Doctor took a step backwards, giving you some space.

“Go on. Let’s see how you’d do. I’ve read in your resume that you’ve handled syringes and injections before. So this should be a piece of cake for you,” he spoke, eagerly watching your every move.

Should I just call it quit? You asked yourself. Finding it difficult to choose in this dilemma of yours. It took you years of hard work to get here. Should you really quit just because you were simply uncomfortable?

Come on. I’m the assistant of one of the most powerful harbingers. It would be shameful of me to back down just because… You argued. You could feel your heartbeat pulsing violently throughout your body as you raised your hands. The tip of the syringe stopped just inches before the man’s arm.

You could feel it. The Doctor was getting impatient by the second. You could hear the sound of his shoe tapping against the concrete floor, “Well?”

This felt wrong, very wrong. But you had no choice, if you wished to keep this job of yours. You mouthed a “sorry” to the squirming man, before pushing the syrinige into his flesh, closing your eyes and injecting the unknown substance into his body.

“Bravo, took you long enough.” The Doctor said.

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it… hm?” He grabbed your chin and turned your head to face him. You were wondering why he did that until he brushed his thumb across your cheek.

“It seems like you are in distress.”

You touched your cheek slightly and it felt wet.

Well, okay. This is embarrassing. Crying in front of a harbinger. He’s going to fire me now because I’m crying over such a small task.

“I take it this was your first time experimenting on a live human being?” He asked, in which you answered with a nod.

“I figured.”

“I-I apologize for my incompetence, sir! I’ll do better next time and—”

“I didn’t ask you to explain yourself. It was a yes-or-no question,” he said.

“I was expecting you to quit when I saw you trembling. But my, oh my. You did so well.” He carried on, “I must say, you did so much better than my previous assistants. Yes, what we’re doing might be considered morally grey in the eyes of others. But keep in mind, this is all done for a better understanding of science; and of course, to fulfill her majesty’s dreams, in the grand scheme of things.”

He then gave you a little pat on the head.

“So you needn’t regret what you’ve done. All you need to know is that you did a great job. And I must say… you might be my favourite assistant, so far.”

He wiped your tears.

“Do me a favor, and don’t dwell on what happened today, because there would be more of this to come. And soon, you’ll get used to this, understand?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Upon hearing your response, you could see a grin forming on his face.

“What a good little assistant you are.”

[politemenacephd]

A Fortunate Mistake: Christmas Special

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader (+18)

Word count: 14,000 Fluff + Smut + Angst Smut Content: Dry humping, oral (reader recieving), marking bites, voyeruism, possessive language during sex, rough vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie

You are a maintenance worker for the Spider Society, one who's been keeping your relationship with Miguel a secret for some time. The holidays are now just around the corner, and while everyone else is excited, Miguel seems to be struggling. You decide to try and help him out.

Note: this is based on my other fic, A Fortunate Mistake, and takes place between chap 8 - 9, but can be read as its own one-shot! There's just an established relationship here. Anyway enjoy hehe

‘Okay, hold- hold- HEY, hold it—!’

You strained your arms as your fellow maintenance workers called back, all straining in the exact same way.

You were currently hanging almost entirely vertically from a standard beam in the HQ lobby, a position that came very unnaturally to you as a human. However, you weren’t at liberty to think about that right now, as you were right in the middle of helping put up Christmas decorations.

This would usually be a relaxing activity, or at the very least a mildly inconvenient one, but for a society run by spiders the decorations had to be a little unorthodox. So instead of getting tangled in tinsel or vacuuming up pine needles, you were hoisting an entire tree up the side of the HQ wall to be stuck down at an angle.

You wiped your brow and tensed the rope one more time. ‘Alright! Pull up, up- that’s it!’

With a final grunt the tree slipped into the pre-bolted stand, and your co-worker rushed to solder it in. You loosened the rope at first just to be sure it was secure, and when the rope went slack but the tree stayed firm you threw it down entirely. Job done.

You dropped to the floor with a huff, leaning on your knees for support. The most you could manage in response to your co-workers’ cheers was a thumbs up.

‘Oh- god, fuck- okay! We did it! Good job guys, you—’

‘Hey! What are you lot up to?’

You glanced up to see Peter B. eagerly jogging towards your location, his eyes fixed on the tree. You offered him an awkward wave.

‘Hey! Peter, hi. We urgh- we’re just putting the decorations up. We’ve got like ten more trees to do but we’re halfway there, so, you know! Baby steps. Keep a- keep a positive spirit and all that.’

You expected to see Peter get excited over the decorations, but instead his smile faltered. 

‘Oh! I, uh- I thought, you guys would have got the memo!’

Your eye twitched as your own smile faltered. ‘The mem—the what? The memo about what?’

Peter physically winced. He knew already that he was going to be the bearer of bad news. ‘Aha, well… Sorry let me urgh, find it, just a- second- OH, HEY! How about you hold May while I get it out?’

As a last-ditch effort to keep you calm he grabbed his baby daughter from her carrier and thrust her body into your arms. You stumbled as May squealed and patted your cheeks.

‘Oof- Peter, uh- she’s lovely but—’

‘AH! Here it is!’

As you finally found your balance again Peter shoved a holographic message right into your face.

‘See? Uh- last minute change, elites said it was safer to do holographic decorations this year! So they’re just doing that. In fact, they should be about to—’

In the middle of speaking a low hum began to fill the HQ, drawing you both to glance upward. Just as he’d predicted the entire building was suddenly filled with bright, shining holographic Christmas decorations, ones that totally eclipsed the meager work you’d done.

Peter and May cooed with glee as the other spiders let out rapturous applause. You, however, looked utterly sour.

‘Oh my god… Well! Alright then. Guess I’m on lunch break early.’

You awkwardly handed Mayday back over to Peter and brushed down your clothes. He didn’t even seem to notice. You bid him goodbye and waved off the other workers, all of whom looked just as sour as you, before turning and heading for the cafeteria instead.

If you were off work early, you could at least make the most of the extra time. You could at least hope he was here.

You swung by the cafeteria and grabbed your usual to-go bag of empanadas. The girl you knew there tried to sell you on something new they were trying but you waved her off; you knew he didn’t like surprises, all he wanted was the same comfortable treat.

With lunch in hand you scaled the beams up towards the highest corridor accessible to the spiders. You ran down the corridor filled with anomaly cages, passed the go-home machine and down to the left. All the way through the eerie, empty space, back to the person you wanted to see the most.

Back to him. Back to Miguel.

You shoved his office door aside with dramatic flair.

‘Miguel?’

You called out into the empty space and listened to the words echo upward into nothing. You noted that his desk was hovering about halfway up, but you couldn’t see him on it. Drat, was he busy again?

You turned a full circle in his room, awkwardly bouncing the empanada box on your hip. Where was he? Surely your luck couldn’t be that bad, right?

‘Mig—’

‘Up here.’

You jumped and glanced upward again. Ah, wait, there he was: one of his hands was draped unceremoniously over the edge of the floating desk, hanging limply with his claws extended. It seemed that your boss was lying flat on his back on the office floor.

As you went to put the empanada box in your bag for safekeeping a long string of neon red webbing cascaded down to the floor. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but secretly you were glad. This was as open as he would be that he wanted to see you.

With your bag tight around your waist you grappled onto the web and began to crawl your way up.

‘Hey there beautiful man’ you whispered as you crawled over the edge. Miguel did not respond.

He was, as you’d expected, lying flat on his back on the cold metal of his office platform. His arms were spread out and his legs slightly parted, with his eyes closed and his brow knotted.

You scooted along the rim of the office until you were sat by his head. Gingerly, you brushed a lock of his hair aside.

‘Hey Mig’ you whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, filling your gaze with red light. You tried to offer him a smile.

‘Nena.’ It was all he said, and while it was said affectionately you could feel the strain in his voice. He sounded exhausted.

‘Yep, that’s me. I uh- I brought you lunch. Your favorite.’

You pulled out the empanada box and shook it, hoping it would cheer him up. Miguel slowly closed his eyes.

‘Mmm.’

His grunt didn’t sound impressed. You put the box down beside his hand and leaned in closer. ���You okay bud? You seem even more dry than usual.’

Once again he opened one eye, though this time he wrinkled his nose and brows. ‘Did… did you just call me, bud?’

‘Uh… yeah. Sorry. Am I, not supposed to do that?’

The two of you stared at each other for a good minute, lingering in that painfully awkward silence. You worried for a second he might get legitimately mad.

But, instead, the corners of Miguel’s mouth slowly began to twitch upward. His confusion turned to mild amusement, and a short huff of a laugh escaped his lips.

‘Ay, nena. I’ve missed you.’

You felt relieved. You glanced once at the edge of the office to make sure you were alone before pressing a tentative kiss to his forehead. ‘Sorry. I just feel bad, only calling you by your name all the time. I don’t have a cool nickname for you like you do for me’ you whispered.

You tried to pull away then, but Miguel caught you first. He used his claws to tilt your head down, pulling all the way until his lips hit yours. Your whole body went warm as he took one sweet and lingering kiss.

‘I missed you’ he repeated after pulling away. Your eyelids drooped.

‘I missed you too, Miguel.’

With a grunt your beloved pseudo-partner finally forced himself to sit up. He stretched a little as he struggled upward, and as always you were awe-struck by the sight of him. It never failed to surprise you just how large he was.

‘Mierda… Ah, you uh- did you say, you brought lunch?’ Miguel asked between rubbing his temple. You eagerly nodded.

‘Of course! Got your favorite this time.’

‘Really?’

Miguel tilted his head to glance inside the bag you’d brought, noting the labelling on the side. You had, indeed, managed to get his favorite flavor for once.

‘Good girl, nena’ he praised, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘Thank you.’

You loosened up at his stoic praise, your grin widened until your cheeks hurt. Without another word you handed over his half of the food.

You settled into your familiar routine, swinging your legs over the edge of the platform as you divided up your share of empanadas in the box. You tore the container in half to make two little plates you could eat off of to save him the cleaning, and with your plate on your lap you sat shoulder to shoulder in that empty abyss.

Miguel grunted as he checked his.

‘You didn’t get these ones as well?’ he asked, gesturing to your plate. You’d stuck with the beef empanadas, the most common ones they had, over the cheese ones you both preferred. You just shrugged.

‘Ah, yeah, but it’s fine! I’m all good.’

‘You changed your appetite?’ he asked, probing further as he took a tentative bite of his own to check the temperature. You shrugged again.

‘Um- no, just, they only had two of the cheese ones left. That’s all.’

Miguel paused mid-bite, his eyes rolling over to stare you down. You gave him a lopsided smile.

‘You—’ Miguel stammered and swallowed hard to finish speaking. ‘You gave up your lunch for me?’

‘What? no! I mean I’m still eating, so… I didn’t, give anything up’ you replied in an oddly defensive tone. Miguel didn’t buy it though. He let out a soft sigh, his claws coming up to gently scratch at your scalp.

‘You soft thing’ he murmured. ‘At least someone cares about what I want today.’

You glanced up from relishing the intoxicating sensation of his thick, calloused fingers scratching your head, and noted the dour, bitter look in his eyes.

‘Ohhh, oh okay. What’s happened? Is it the elites again?’ you asked, whispering the last part as if one of them would hear. Miguel pinched the spot between his brows.

‘Ay por Dios- ah, yes. Yes, of course, it’s them. They’re insisting that they host a workplace, festive holiday party, even though I keep insisting we are NOT a workplace, we are an organization who need to be on the offensive at all times, and THEN they want to- do this, thing, where we all exchange gifts in secret—’

‘Oh! Secret santa?'

‘Yes, that. Have you done it?' 

‘Mhm!’ You hurriedly swallowed in order to explain properly, all while Miguel stared you down. ‘Yeah you uh- you get given a random colleague and you buy them a gift, so its fair, everyone gets one.’

‘Yes, it is- a fine tradition, for literally anywhere else’ Miguel scoffed. ‘If I’m too busy for you I’m definitely too busy for anyone else. And I don’t know what they want! How do I find out?’

‘Don’t you have access to like, everything and everyone on those monitors?’ you noted, waving a piece of empanada at his desk. Miguel shot you a disapproving look.

‘I use that to keep the multiverse safe. Not to- spy on my fellow spiders so I can find them an appropriate gift.’

‘Yeah, but… you’re not saying you CAN’T use it for that’ you insisted. Miguel’s eye twitched at your playful naivety.

‘You’re a menace’ he grunted.

‘A HELPFUL menace, with good ideas!’ you cheered.

He couldn’t help it; a small half-smile broke onto his face at the sight of your gormless joy, but it didn’t last long. The anxiety of his situation crept up on him mere moments later.

Miguel pushed his now empty box aside and sighed. While you were mid-way through your final bite he shuffled backward until he was slumped against his desk, his eyes once again closed to hide from the world.

‘I don’t want to go’ he said bluntly.

Oh boy, you thought. He was in a really bad mood this time. You hurriedly swallowed the last of your lunch, manically licking flakes of pastry from your fingers so they didn’t get grease on his suit, before crawling over the floor to his side.

He didn’t open his eyes for you but his hands did reach out to grope for your body. You squeaked as he dragged you in against his side, squeezing your upper torso against his. You were smooshed directly into his pec.

‘I don’t, want, to go’ he repeated with a hiss. You patted his chest.

‘I know big guy.’

For a while you just lay in his arms, taking in the brief respite of each other’s touch while you could. You didn’t exactly get a lot of time together. The occasional outing or the occasional night visit to his apartment was the best you could get, along with these lunch breaks whenever he wasn’t on a mission, so the chance to just touch him was one you couldn’t pass up.

He was so warm. You squished into his pec and felt his chest move as he breathed, his heartbeat thudding on your cheek. Your fingers idly fiddled with his suit while his claws scratched at your work pants.

That brief, fleeting moment of domestic bliss was intoxicating. You squeezed him lightly, and he squeezed you back.

‘Nena?’

‘Yes?’

‘Will you come with me?’

Miguel’s interruption caught you very much off guard. You gabbed a little as his eyes rolled open once more, now peering at you in earnest. He was pleading with them.

‘Please’ he said softly.

‘Ah… I mean, won’t it look suspicious? I’m not a spider.’

‘You’re my friend aren’t you?’

Your face went warm. ‘I… am technically your friend, yes. I suppose.’

‘So it’s not suspicious. You had time off work, I passed you in the hall and offered for you to come. As a friend.’

You smiled, your fingers now tracing down his chest. You thought about how good he felt under the suit. That rough skin, scarred and warm, covered in thick hair you loved to run your fingers through when it was late and you were cuddling.

You knew from his sad expression he was thinking of the same. The way his hand squeezed you over your clothes, it was clear he was fantasizing about the soft, thick flesh beneath, and how warm it was when he gripped it.

‘Friend’ he repeated, his voice a little husky. You felt him bury his nose into your hair, breathing in deep.

‘Y-Yeah. Friend’ you repeated back. In that moment you both felt the same familiar spark: that unquenchable, physical magnetism, that carnal yearning you couldn’t seem to stop. Miguel squeezed you tight.

‘You’re- such, a good friend’ he whispered. Oh boy, his voice was definitely husky now. You felt him moving, bending, slowly forcing you down to the floor. His lips went from your hair to your neck.

‘M-Mig, we’re at wor- a-ah—’

You squeaked as he began to suck on your neck.

‘Mm… Mm...’

His moans were muffled against your skin. You knew he was fantasizing about biting you. You were deeply flushed, torn between your physical desire and your anxiety over being caught, but as his hands began to fumble your shirt aside you felt desire take over.

You helped him open your shirt at the top, allowing his hand to slip beneath the thin fabric. He began eagerly squeezing your breasts as he sucked and kissed your neck.

‘Ah- Mig.’ You whispered his name intensely, only barely managing to bite down a much louder moan. His fingers were so rough on your chest, and he couldn’t stop himself gently teasing your nipples to try and get another whimper out of you. You had to bite your lip to keep them down.

‘Mig- please, careful—’

‘Mm.’

He groaned into your skin and shuffled, his enormous body shifting until he was directly on top of you. You had to breathe in deep as his chest crushed your ribs.

‘Mig- M-Mig—’

‘Mmm…’

With a soft, satisfied moan Miguel began to dry-hump you over your work clothes. You could feel his clothed bulge desperately kneading between your thighs, eagerly pushing your legs apart so he could grind on your clothed cunt.

‘Mmm...’

You lay back and struggled to keep quiet as he rubbed himself out. You could hear the distant laughs and shouts of spiders somewhere beyond his office, and there was a real fear in you that they could come in at any time.

But, you didn’t tell him to stop. Why would you? After all, you were a filthy pervert for the man, and part of you kind of wanted to get caught. Part of you wanted to be his.

You moaned softly as he ground his hefty bulge just close enough to stimulate your clit. You could feel your slick soaking your panties, and you knew he was probably staining the inside of his suit with pre-cum. You clung tight to his back as his weight crushed you into the cold floor.

You were only drawn apart by one particularly loud shout. It wasn’t calling for Miguel, but it was enough to make him release you and jerk his head up. ‘Fuck… fuck.’

You could see the disappointment in his eyes as he cursed. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and gingerly wiped his spit from your neck.

‘Sorry, nena.’

‘I-It’s okay, it’s fine.’

With a soft moan Miguel buried his face into your hair once more. You felt his claws squeezing your waist.

‘I’d love to bite you’ he whined.

‘I know’ you panted.

‘I’d love… to bite you, and suck, and have you walk around so everyone knows you’re mine.’

You felt him give one final, needy grind between your legs before sighing and withdrawing, giving you the chance to shuffle onto your elbows.

‘What have you done to me?’ he whispered with a slight chuckle. You hurried to smooth out your clothes. ‘What have I done- why is this on me? I just brought you lunch!’

Miguel bashfully brushed his hair back as you sat up. He couldn’t help himself from looking, especially at where your pants had come down in your frantic dry humping to reveal just a little part of your panties. He was disappointed when you pulled them back up.

‘Mhm. Exactly.’ He reached out and took your chin in his hand, pausing your manic attempt to dress. ‘No one else who brings me lunch makes me want to act like this. So, clearly, there’s something about you.’

‘Ahuh. Very poetic, sir’ you teased. His eyes were so soft in contrast to his otherwise stern expression.

‘Come with me. Please.’

You finally finished sorting your clothes and shuffled into a cross legged position, facing Miguel head on. He leant his head on his upturned fist.

‘What do I get out of it?’

He snorted a laugh at your answer. ‘Ay, nena… How about, best friend status?’ he replied. He was trying to be sarcastic but you jumped at the idea.

‘Oh- oh shit, really? For real? Alright. Done. I’ll see you there, bestie!’

Miguel scowled as he watched you jump to your feet. ‘Do not call me bestie.’

You looked over your shoulder as you scavenged your things, clearly displeased by his curtness. ‘What, not even in private?’

Miguel sighed, his hand flying to his face. ‘Ay por Dios- ah, fine. In private is fine, but not in public.’

‘Aww, Mig, are you embarrassed of me?’

Miguel’s teasing seemed to fall off almost immediately at that. He looked distraught. ‘I- no, nena, of course not. No. I just- look if you start calling me that, Peter will think it’s okay! I can’t have that happening!’

You couldn’t help but giggle at Miguel’s genuine horror. You had to force yourself to stop as you gave him a sympathetic kiss on the chest.

‘Okay. I will come to your work thing. I’ll uh- distract Peter by asking about his thoughts on baby car seats, or Jess on motorcycle maintenance. You can sulk in the corner until it’s over.’

Miguel’s smile was genuine as he gazed down at you. For just a moment, things seemed like they might be alright.

‘Thank you, nena. You’re an angel.’

….

It was roughly 1pm, and you were anxiously pacing about two corridors down from where you knew the Christmas get together was happening. You were here waiting for Miguel to show up and make your appearance seem organic.

You were still in your work clothes, which felt a little odd, but you knew it would look even more odd if you weren’t in them in the middle of the day. You also couldn’t be too close to the party or it’d look stranger still.

You sighed to yourself as your back hit the nearest wall. Here, alone, beneath the cold fluorescents, you pondered this weird situationship you’d gotten into.

You loved Miguel dearly, you really did, both genuinely as a friend and as something more complicated. You just wished you could be more open about it. It was hard to lie, hard to constantly be on the lookout for ways to be inconspicuous. It was exhausting.

You didn’t even entirely know why you couldn’t be open about it. All you knew is you trusted him, or at least, you wanted to, so what he said went.

Your mind drifted to his lips on your neck, and you absently brushed where he’d kissed you. You thought about his words, about how he’d whined over not being able to mark you with a bite. Your cheeks glowed in the cold light.

You wished it too, you thought. You wished for nothing more.

‘Nena?’

You turned to find Miguel watching you from the corner of the hall. He was in full suit, even wearing his mask, which you found a little odd. You smiled as he approached.

‘Hey, big guy.’

Miguel glanced about the hall twice to ensure you were alone before placing a single, cautious kiss to your forehead.

‘You ready?’

You could hear the annoyance in his voice. He was already in a foul mood. With both hands you reached up and gently tapped his cheeks, urging him to remove his mask. He reluctantly obeyed.

‘There he is. Beautiful man.’ You cooed softly as you stroked his jaw, and you watched as he closed his eyes in response. You clung to that moment together, that sweet single moment alone, until you were forced apart by the sound of another spider’s footsteps.

Together you walked into the open lobby.

It was packed with spiders from ceiling to floor, with people standing or sitting at every angle possible. Those holographic decorations were extra bright here, filling the white room with a bright arrangement of rainbow lights. It was excessively cheery.

The moment you walked in you were hit with the low buzz of spiders chatting and calling over each other. Someone somewhere was singing, a gaggle of Peter’s were trying to get the radio to play music, but someone seemed to have already dropped eggnog on the thing and now all you could hear was the occasional static.

You also noticed very quickly that everyone else was wearing some horrible Christmas sweater. That is, everyone but Miguel.

‘Miguel! Hey! There you are!’

You jumped as Peter B. dropped from the ceiling in front of you, his arms flying to Miguel’s waist before the man could even respond. Miguel opted to just stand stock still in his usual, stoic posture, while Peter squeezed his ribs to dust.

‘Oh, I’m so glad! Hey, I told you it was festive sweater attire—’

‘I don’t- own one of those.’

Peter huffed at Miguel’s curtness. While Peter tried to put on his most disapproving, disappointed dad face, Miguel just curled his lip.

‘I brought you one! For this EXACT event!’

‘I lost it.’

‘You lo- how?! You live and work in the HQ!’

‘I lost it’ Miguel repeated. You could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth.

‘I swear you are unbelievable sometim—oh! Hey, you! It’s you!’

Peter finally noticed you standing awkwardly at Miguel’s back. You were easy to miss, as your body barely came up to his pecs and his shadow was currently hiding much of your body, but Peter’s senses were keen. He turned his accusatory finger from Miguel to you instead.

‘Hey! Oh, it’s good to see you, how are you doing?’

‘Hey, Peter. I’m- good, I’m good.’ You forced a smile to hide your anxiety over being here. You knew you weren’t doing anything wrong but you felt so out of place in these big gatherings. You weren’t a spider, you barely knew most of these people, and of course you were harboring the guilt of your secret affair with their boss.

As if sensing the strain in your voice Miguel allowed his hand to brush your elbow. It was a small, barely discernible action, but it meant the world to you. It was all the comfort you needed.

‘I didn’t know you were invited though’ Peter mused aloud. ‘I thought it was just a spider thing.’

‘Oh, I was—’

‘I saw her walking by and she mentioned she was on break, I thought- she might enjoy this’ Miguel said, quickly dropping your alibi in the most monotone way possible. You just nodded along with his explanation.

‘Oh’ Peter noted, his finger slowly retracting. ‘So, you two do know each other?’

Miguel grunted, his brows knotting into that familiar look of mild annoyance. ‘Do we know- yes, of course we know each other. She cleans my office three times a week. I told you before, we’re friends.’

Peter nodded along slowly. He wasn’t saying anything, but of course his senses had peaked. He was curious in a way that was making Miguel squirm.

‘So you—’

The three of you turned in unison as a sharp cry filled the lobby. It was a baby’s cry, a sharp squeak of joy, one that all three of you instantly recognized.

‘May! May, no, you can’t be up there!’

The red-headed baby had found her way onto one of the beams and was eagerly crawling towards the fake holographic tinsel, trying to grasp it with her little baby hand.

‘NO! NO, honey, you can’t- you can’t touch that- I’m so sorry, I gotta go!’

Thankfully Peter abandoned your conversation to climb the wall in pursuit of his baby daughter. You sighed with relief, your hand brushing Miguel’s arm, but when you touched him you found he was unbelievably tense. You glanced up to find his eyes glued to the ceiling.

‘Mig?’ you whispered. He was grinding his jaw with his lips pursed, his eyes unmoving.

‘This is why I didn’t want to come’ he hissed. Before you could speak he’d pulled away to the craft table.

‘Ah- Mig, hey!’ You hurried after him, awkwardly sidestepping the other spiders to reach him. ‘Mig? Miguel? What’s up?’

You finally caught him as he tried to hide at the end of the craft table, shoving himself into the corner. You bit down any jokes you instinctively wanted to make about this enormous, gorgeous man trying to hide anywhere.

‘Mig, it’s okay. Talk to me.’

You sidled up beside him and glanced about the room, making sure no one else was coming over. You could physically hear Miguel grinding his teeth at this point.

‘I knew this is what it would be’ Miguel murmured. ‘I get invited out of pity. Everyone’s here with their friends, and their family, because that’s what its about, and they know—’

Miguel choked on the last word. You noticed his eyes were swimming ever so slightly.

In the corner Peter was bouncing May in his arms while trying to coax Mary to go beneath the holographic mistletoe. Jess was laughing as she held up a hologram, on which you could see the laughing face of her husband as he admired her stomach.

You suddenly noticed how many Peters, how many Marys, how many Gwens were spread out here. Everyone seemed so comfortable with each other, and many more were talking about visiting their aunts or parents.

When you looked up at Miguel again, he looked strained.

‘I- I’m gonna take a break’ Miguel grumbled.

‘Oh, already? Hey that’s okay. Do you want me to come?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I just- I need a minute. Alone.’

Without another word he turned and fled, rushing immediately to the nearest bathroom stall. He locked it hard.

Suddenly, you were alone too. You immediately felt your heart speed up.

Oh god, did you know anyone else here? You sort of knew Peter B. but he was busy with his family, and you sort of knew Jess but not well enough to just chat. Everyone else here was a passing acquaintance. You began to wander aimlessly from spot to spot as if to imply you knew what you were doing.

You stared at the food but didn’t partake in anything but a half-filled cup of eggnog which you sipped on for support. You passed by the secret santa board listing everyone intending to participate, just so you looked like you were pondering it with purpose. You noticed Miguel’s picture had been pinned up there, his sullen face lost amide a sea of smiles. You spotted at the top a big sign declaring that Peter B. was this year’s organizer. Ah, of course, it was Peter orchestrating all of this. You quickly walked away.

Eventually you just found a corner to skulk in while you waited for Miguel to return.

It was quiet at least. Peaceful. Calm. You could watch everyone else stand around and sing and watch May admire all the Christmas lights.

You smiled too as you watched her. It was hard not to. It was inevitable, though, that your mind would drift back to Miguel again.

You knew about Miguel’s past at this point. You knew about Gabi, about his loss, about his isolation. You knew it was hard for him seeing every other spider suffer but still ultimately have a family to go home to.

Had he ever experienced a Christmas with Gabi? Did he even get enough time for that?

You knew, deep down, the real reason he didn’t want to be here. It wasn’t the casual socializing or the fact they weren’t technically a workplace. Maybe those things played a small part in his disdain, but really it was clear that he couldn’t bear to be reminded of what he didn’t have.

You glanced to where Miguel had gone to hide, praying for the door to open. It didn’t. You sadly sank back into yourself.

‘Hey, what uh- what an interesting spot you picked.’

You jumped as an unfamiliar voice called to you from the right. It was one of the nebulous Peter Parker’s, a slightly older one it seemed, who’d come to stand beside you on the edge of the lobby. You forced a smile.

‘Hi! Ah… what- Can I help you?’

This new Peter grinned in a way that made you extremely uncomfortable.

‘Well, I mean if you’re asking. This is the right spot for that after all.’

Now you were sweating. Your eyes darting as he started to chuckle. Why was he laughing at you? Who was this?

You realized his friends, a group of other Peter’s, were in the corner giving him a thumbs up. Immediately your stomach dropped, and with bulging eyes you slowly looked upward.

There it was. Mistletoe. Your idiot self had wandered right under it without thinking.

‘Oh! Oh, oh my god, I am- I’m so sorry, no, I didn’t—’

‘God you’re adorably shy, especially for someone waiting underneath it’ this new Peter chortled. You felt your heart hammering. Oh god, where was Miguel? Where was he? You tried to lean and look for him in the crowd, but the new Peter suddenly leaned in front of you.

‘So, you were standing here for no reason?’ he teased. You stammered on your words.

‘No, I’m- I didn’t know it was there, I swear, I didn’t mean to be here—’

He reached up to grab the holographic sprig, taunting you with it as he waved it back and forth.

‘Hey, come on, you gotta follow the rules’ he chuckled. He must have thought he was being playful, just indulging in some banter, but you were horrified. You tried to step away.

‘No, no I’m not- playing around I’m serious—’

‘HEY!’

Your whole body jolted as you were suddenly thrust away from the older Peter. A giant, muscular, red and blue clad arm had swung itself between the two of you and embedded itself into the wall.

Miguel stared down at the man before him, his eyes burning red. His face had contorted with rage, and his claws had turned the concrete wall into dust where he’d struck it.

‘W-Woah, woah, you—’ The man tried to speak but Miguel snapped at him before he could give any kind of excuse. ‘What do you think you’re doing? She said no!’ he barked.

‘I thought- I mean she was under the—’

‘She said. No.’ Miguel was hissing so hard that spittle flew from between his clenched fangs. The man took a step back.

‘Boss, hey, come on—’

‘No. I won’t, come on. There is nothing else to say. She said no. I do not allow people, in my organization, who don’t listen to NO. Especially when it’s her—’

‘Hey, man I was just joking—’

‘Is anyone laughing?!’

Miguel’s sneer had turned into a disdainful smile at this point, a deeply sarcastic grin which bore no joy. Peter had raised his hands into a defensive stance at this point. He knew he’d messed up.

‘I do everything for you ungrateful people’ he seethed. ‘Everything. I give up- everything. And you’re trying to take the ONE THING I HAVE—’

Miguel paused his onslaught abruptly when a hand hit his shoulder, gently drawing him back from his rage. He turned, following the hand to its owner’s face, only to find Peter B. staring back at him with mortified eyes.

‘Mig’ he whispered. Miguel slowly darted his eyes towards the rest of the room.

Everyone had frozen in place to stare at the little mess you’d made. You cowered against the wall with your hands clutched to your chest, while Miguel just stared with his mouth agape. He was panting, his chest heaving as his anger began to slowly dissipate.

‘Buddy?’ Peter B. whispered. At this point the other Peter had used the distraction to flee back to his friends.

‘You okay, buddy?’

Miguel’s face began to warp. It went from rage, to embarrassment, to guilt, right back to rage again. He cast you a quick glance that you couldn’t discern before shoving his way through the crowd.

‘Hey! Hey, Miguel!’

Peter B. gave chase, and after a moment of being frozen you also followed suit. You both managed to follow him to the lobby door before losing track, as he used his claws to drag his body up into the endless sea of beams going up through the HQ.

You panted and stumbled to a stop beside Peter. You were both alone, standing in the corridor just outside the main lobby. You could still hear the gossipy whispers drifting out.

‘Shit… Shit, oh god- Mig’ you panted. ‘I’m so- sorry, shit—’

‘Hey, hey, don’t apologize’ Peter stammered. He was also out of breath. ‘Argh, god- I knew this would be a bad idea. I knew he’d get wound up.’

You panted once, twice, recouping your breath, before rounding on Peter yourself. ‘Then why did you do it?! Why’d you make Miguel get involved if you know he hates it?’ you hissed.

Peter held up both hands in defense. ‘Hey! I just- oh, god, I’m so out of shape- look, I’m not oblivious! I’m not tryna be mean, or rude, I don't even celebrate this stuff, but—I just don’t want him to be alone again.’

You paused your intended onslaught when you saw the sincerity in Peter’s eyes.

‘Alone, again?’ you repeated back. Peter nodded.

‘Yes! He doesn’t—he doesn’t have any family. Not here, not even in another universe, he’s… It’s a hard time of year when you’re alone, even for regular people, but, he’s—’

‘Anything but regular’ you murmured. Peter gave another grim nod.

You sighed, hard.

‘Look, Peter, we’re worried about the same thing’ you insisted. ‘But just- forcing him to spend time around other people who have what he doesn’t have, how does that help?’

Peter held up his hands in surrender. ‘Yeah, I- I know. I know. I just thought- Sometimes, when he looks at May or holds her, I catch him smiling to himself. I catch him making those soft little dad noises at her and, I just thought, maybe he wanted more of it?’

The mental image Peter was painting made your stomach knot. You could see it so clearly, Miguel’s old worn face lifting into a smile as May cooed at him, as she reminded him of those long dormant instincts. It made your heart hurt.

‘But then other times he- he looks so defeated, and I… Well, my good intentions don’t really matter, do they? Either way I screwed up. I should have just, locked you two in a room or something, eh?’

You blanched at his sudden curtness. ‘You- what? What, what are you- aha, what are you implying, Peter? There’s no—’

‘Shh, shh.’

You stiffened as Peter put one finger to your lips. ‘Don’t wear yourself out, little lady, I know what you and my dear friend Miguel are up to.’

You could feel your face getting warm, and you were sure he could tell. Peter’s stupid puppy dog smile crept back onto his face as he watched you squirm internally.

‘What I meant was, I should have just done what he wanted, not what I wanted. And I’m fairly sure all he wants is to sit in a dark room on a couch watching some stupid old soap opera film while you sit next to him and, I don’t know, gaze at him adoringly.’

Slowly your body began to loosen up. Peter was right, there was no point lying. You reached up to remove his finger from your mouth.

‘I’d have liked that too’ you murmured.

In that moment it didn’t feel like there was anywhere else to go. You’d hit a wall, and the two of you were forced to just pace in the corridor in thought. That was, until something Peter had said stuck out to you in retrospect.

‘Hey, um—’

You held up a hand, awkwardly gesturing for Peter to come closer. He obliged, his adorable puppy face tilting as you mulled over what you were about to do.

‘This secret santa thing, could… could you do me a favor?’

Peter’s eyes lit up. You hadn’t stated your intentions but he already knew where this was going. Yes, you and Miguel were meant to be a secret. Yes, Jess had stated very clearly that it wasn’t a good idea to indulge it. But god, Peter couldn’t help himself. He was a romantic at heart.

‘What kind of favor?’ he whispered.

You leaned in closer and whispered back. ‘You’re in charge of handing them out, right? I want you to shift the names around. I want you to give Miguel to me. Nobody has to know, cos... yanno, it’s secret, but… could you do that for me?’

Peter beamed. ‘I can do that one hundred percent, ma’am, without a single issue.’

You beamed back. ‘Perfect! Thanks Peter, ah- sorry for snapping at you earlier.’

‘Hey, it’s all water under the bridge.’

As Peter flapped his hands dismissively you gazed up at the beams above. You sighed again.

You were supposed to spend Christmas with your family this year like always. It’d been a while since you’d seen them after all, and it was always something you looked forward to when you got the chance.

But, you felt like there was someone who maybe needed you a little more this year.

…

It was Christmas eve and almost all of the spiders at the HQ had gone home. The place was eerily empty without the usual crowds. With heavy snow falling outside the place felt liminal, like a building outside of space and time.

It was in this sea of nothing that Miguel appeared. He was walking alone through the lobby at a speedy pace, dressed in just slacks and a t-shirt. He was trying his best not to linger. He didn’t like to think about how alone he was, nor did he like to dwell on the echo of his footsteps. The only man left, the only footsteps in the whole HQ.

The echo felt cruel to him. It was like laughter, reflecting back to him his own isolation. He felt so small.

He found his way to the elevator and rode it up to the tippy top of the HQ, and all the way up he mourned his situation.

He missed you. You hadn’t had time to speak properly after the party incident, and he missed you dearly. He was left to think about what you might be doing, somewhere far from here, relishing the holiday with family. What was your family like, he wondered? Mum, dad, both, neither? Did you have siblings to bond with, or nieces or nephews to gift presents too?

You were always so kind. So soft. He was sure you’d planned their gifts well in advance. He smiled at the thought of you panicking over gifts, or getting excited over whatever they’d gotten for you. He daydreamed about your gleeful, shining face beneath the glinting lights.

What a sweet, domestic image. He wanted more than anything to just cling to it for a little while longer, but fate was cruel. The elevator came to a stop and jolted him back to reality, as its doors peeled aside to reveal the empty corridor to his apartment.

His smile faded. He looked exhausted. With heavy steps he trudged his way to his front door.

‘I’m home’ he muttered as he pushed the door aside. It was a cruel routine he did every time he got back to his apartment, calling out to a family that didn’t exist. As expected, nobody replied. With a soft grunt he kicked off his shoes and began to fumble for the light.

‘Welcome back.’

Miguel jumped in his skin, his claws bursting out as his suit automatically covered his body. In a defensive position he slammed the light back on.

‘WHO’S THERE?!’

His narrowed eyes darted about the now lit apartment before falling on a single figure in the center of the room, a figure sitting perfectly cross legged on his messy couch.

His eyes widened. It was you.

‘You… nena?’

Miguel lowered his mask to reveal his utterly stupefied expression. You couldn’t help but smile.

‘Hey, aha- sorry for the uh, theatrics, but… I mean that was kind of the point, right?’

Your awkward laugh filled the apartment as Miguel tilted his head.

‘Why- why are you here? How did you get IN?’ he asked. As he phased away the rest of his suit you swung your legs over the edge of the couch, hands clasped in your lap. You were trying your best to look like you knew what you were doing.

‘Ah- you don’t lock your door, so- I just walked in.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You never lock your door’ you repeated gently. ‘You always forget, or you stay at work so late you never come back to lock it. You told me, last time I was here, remember?’

‘I… did, didn’t I’ he grunted. After a brief silent stare off Miguel turned and began silently taking off his shoes, leaving you sitting in the stillness.

You smiled to hide your anxiety. You couldn’t tell from his expression yet how he felt about your little jape, and you hadn’t even fully revealed your plan yet.

‘Nena, I am happy to see you, obviously, but…’

‘Obviously?’ you teased. He bashfully held up a hand.

‘Hey, come on, don’t start. You hid in my apartment without telling me, of course I’m going to be surprised, I would have jumped regardless of who it was.’

‘I know, I know, I’m kidding.’

Miguel shook his head. He looked exasperated but still mildly amused. ‘I am happy to see you, nena, really, but… as I was saying, why ARE you here?’

‘Well duh. I’m your secret santa.’

Miguel blinked. Now he looked even more confused.

‘You… Nena, you weren’t—’

‘On the ballot? No! I wasn’t. But SOMEHOW, I got on there! Call it uh- divine intervention, maybe—’

‘I’d call it Peter meddling’ Miguel grunted.

‘Ah, same thing! Don’t think about it!’

Miguel paused before properly responding to your shenanigans, opting instead to drop his stuff and slump onto the empty couch spot at your side. Your whole body bounced as he sat down.

‘Alright. I got it. So- Peter probably bribed you into spending Christmas with me, huh? Or did he blackmail you? Wait- nena, did he blackmail you?! I swear I will—’

‘What? No!’ You waved your hands and scoffed, quickly patting him back down from his brewing rage. ‘God you’re bad at this. I had a go at Peter for making you do holiday stuff when you were clearly unhappy, he said he only did it ‘cos he was trying to make you feel less lonely. So, I asked him myself to put me as your secret santa, and I planned this whole charade. Because I- also, want you to be happy, just, not by way of enforced socialization. I know you hate it.’

Miguel stared at you with his hand halfway down his jaw. He looked utterly stupefied.

‘You… I, will never understand you’ he said softly, the words barely a breath. You just kept your smile as wide as you could.

‘So- you’re—’

‘Happy secret santa!’

You interrupted Miguel’s attempted speech by dumping a huge wrapped present box on his lap. Miguel froze, his eyes locked on the box like it was a venomous snake, a perfect contrast to you as you eagerly slapped your thighs with excitement.

‘Go on! Open it!’

‘This- what is it?’ Miguel hissed. You reached out and incessantly patted his bicep.

‘It’s your- present! So open it! NOW!’

‘Okay! Okay! Ay Dios—’

With a soft grunt Miguel hurried to unwrap the box, shyly lifting the top flaps aside. He peered down into it while you clapped your hands beside him.

‘It’s…’

Miguel reached in and pulled out a handful of items.

‘It’s- so that’s that chocolate you mentioned months ago that you loved as a kid. The chilli one. I had to get it imported, I was SO worried it wouldn’t arrive but it did! Yay!’

Miguel slowly turned the wrapped candy over in his hand. ‘Nena, you—’

‘And that’s some new boxers. I hope you don’t mind, but I remember you said it’s the one thing you always run out of because you don’t wear anything else under the suit usually so you needed more— I made sure they were in your colors though!’

Miguel glanced down at the pack of boxers you’d brought him. They were, indeed, custom printed in red and blue. He just kept mumbling to himself, unable to form a real response.

‘And- I got you that copy of your favorite film, because I know you have everything digitized but you’re a sucker for just having things, it means Lyla can’t see ‘em, and… Oh, what’s that- OH! Yes, and I got you a voucher, for the canteen, I paid for like, a MONTHS worth of empanadas in advance so you or I can use those there for, like, maybe a week, knowing us.’

‘Nena, this is… really, thoughtful’ he murmured. You beamed.

‘At-at-at, it’s not over yet. And, finally, well… I thought, I could stay over, maybe. Keep you company. Spend Christmas here.’

Miguel’s mouth was agape.

‘Not like- I don’t want to um, make this more serious than it needs to be, like, this can be just a… friends with benefits, Christmas? I don’t know, what I’m saying is I just want to, you know, be here. With you. As a… whatever we are. For Christmas.’

Miguel, still stunned, slowly shook his head.

‘But, nena, your family—’

‘Ah, they’ll be fine! They’ve had me for every Christmas since I was BORN! That is like, an unfathomable amount of me to deal with’ you teased. Miguel’s solemn expression slowly tilted, his lips sliding into a half-smile.

‘Ah, so you’re offsetting their burden to me this year, huh?’

‘Mhm! You’re stuck with me.’

Bit by bit, Miguel’s heart melted. That cold exterior turned soft under your earnest smile. He slowly pushed the box of gifts aside so he could face you properly.

‘I- couldn’t think of a better gift, than being stuck with you’ he said. You felt a rush of warmth through your whole body, and instinctively tried to bat it away.

‘Aha, no, come on. Even the chocolate?’

‘It is, much, much better than that’ he said. His voice had gone unnervingly quiet, unnervingly gentle. You felt your heart flutter.

‘Well, I’m… glad. I’m, glad you’re happy I’m here. Now- do you wanna help me cook, maybe? I’m not sure what you’ve got but, we can make something work, right?’

Miguel nodded slowly. His eyes were utterly fixated on your face, on your little joyful dimples and wide eyes.

‘Sure. Sure, mi nena. I’d love that.’

You smiled so wide it hurt. ‘Mm. Good! Good. I’ll uh- get started then.’

Miguel watched as you scrambled to your feet and rushed to his tiny kitchenette. For just a moment, he decided to hang back. He was trying to hide his instinctual fear from you. He was happy, yes, deliriously so, but that scared him down to his core. He wasn’t supposed to be happy.

Had he let this go too far? He still wasn’t sure if any of this could get you hurt, if this somehow upset his canon. He was supposed to be alone after all, and yet, here you were.

With dilated eyes he glanced at the enormous glass wall overlooking the city. It was still snowing outside, heavy and hard, and Nueva was coated in a soft, dreamy blanket of white which glittered in the rainbow city lights.

It was beautiful. Serene. He bent and whispered into his watch.

‘Lyla?’

‘Yes?’

‘Ah- are there, any anomalies?’

‘No sir, none.’

Miguel’s eyes softened a little. Huh, he thought, no anomalies at all?

‘Are you sure?’ he whispered again. Lyla flashed a small red X at him over the watch.

‘None! None at all! I already said that!’

Part of him wanted to ask her a third time but he stopped himself. No, Lyla was trained to know this stuff, she had to be right. That meant this, at the very least, wasn’t breaking his canon. For now.

He stole a glance at you in the kitchen as you rummaged through his fridge. Even that small, mundane activity, watching you forage around and tut to yourself, made his heart a little less heavy. In fact, it made it light. The sight of your face smiling, the way you bit your tongue to concentrate as you separated food on the counter, it felt like bird wings fluttering in his chest.

‘Ay por Dios- I’m too old to be doing this’ Miguel mumbled to himself, but despite his gripes he was just too intoxicated to stop. It felt too good to be this content, this flushed and flighty and nervous. If this was safe, well, perhaps he could just stay here. Perhaps he could just stay with you, just the two of you, in this sweet heavenly limbo.

‘Okay. Ah- thank you, Lyla. That’s all’ he mumbled. Miguel went to close the receiver, but he paused at the last second. He decided to whisper one more thing.

‘Ah- merry Christmas, Lyla.’

‘You- what?’

Miguel grunted, already embarrassed, but he repeated it again. ‘I- I said, you know—’

‘Yeah I heard you, I’m just surprised’ Lyla crowed. ‘What���s got you all soft and mushy? Finally feeling the spirit of the season?’

Miguel refused to make eye contact as Lyla appeared in holographic form, her eyes roaming his dumpy apartment. It didn’t take long for her to notice you in the kitchen.

‘You- ooohhh. Oh. I got it.’

Lyla shot him a smug grin as she tilted her glasses. ‘Maybe not the spirit of the season, but you’re sure feelin’ something, huh boss?’

‘Get- out of here’ he hissed.

‘Merry Christmas boss. You two be safe now.’

Before Miguel could snap anything back Lyla phased herself away. She even made a point of switching his watch off for him, a subtle indicator that she knew he ought to be alone with you right now.

Miguel took her advice and gently slipped his watch off. It would be fine on the counter. Now fully certain that the two of you were alone, he rose to his feet and joined you in the kitchen. He had only one thing left on his mind.

You were busy sorting out leftovers when you felt his shadow at your back. The weight of his pecs pushed in against your head as his hips brushed your rear, very lightly pressing you against the counter.

‘Oof- oh, hey! There you are, you okay?’

You tilted your head back, a goofy smile spread across your face, only to have it immediately wiped.

Miguel wasn’t offering his same slightly stilted smile. He had an expression that you were now very familiar with, but it wasn’t one you were expecting to see right now. Those half-lidded eyes, that open smile, the way his breath condensed slightly as it huffed between his bared fangs. You felt the red light of his gaze gawking at you, admiring just how small you looked against his chest.

He pushed a little closer and you oomphed again.

‘Ah- h-hey, Miguel, you—’

‘I didn’t get you a present’ he said slowly. You watched as each of his clawed hands came down on the counter, trapping you in. Your body trembled with excitement.

‘You- you didn’t’ you stammered back. He seemed to be enjoying your little quivers.

‘I feel bad’ he murmured. ‘Mi nena went to, such lengths for me. So I want to give you something too.’

You tensed up with anticipation. Your whole body was on fire, and you couldn’t wait to—

Right in the middle of your fantasizing, Miguel pulled away. You watched as he withdrew and hurried off to the edge of his bed.

‘Ah… Mi- ahem, uh- Miguel?’

He didn’t reply. He was busy pulling out a draw and rummaging through its contents. You watched in a daze.

After a minute or so Miguel finally hurried back to your side, his hand now held behind his back. You tried to put on a grateful smile.

‘Aha, hey, so uh- what, what did you—’

Halfway through speaking he interrupted you again, this time by forcing some unseen object into your palm. It felt cold, whatever it was. Hard and cold. He closed your fist around it with both his hands.

‘For you, mi nena. Okay, now… look.’

Miguel slowly withdrew his hands, allowing you to unfurl your fist.

It was a key. Or, more specifically, a keycard, used to swipe open doors in the HQ. You had one yourself for cleaning people’s private offices, but you’d never seen one like this. You couldn’t help but frown.

‘What- wait, wait is this your— is, this your apartment key?’

Miguel’s affectionate smile was answer enough. You couldn’t hide the flood of excitement and surprise that overcame you.

‘OH! Oh, I- are you sure? Like, really- you’re sure, Mig? I don’t wanna pressure you, like—’

‘I’m sure, nena. I’m very sure.’

‘Oh my god- but, again I just- are you ABSOLUTELY sure?’

Miguel rolled his eyes a little. ‘Yes. Nena, I am sure.’

‘But you’re SURE you’re—MMF!’

In a spontaneous move Miguel bent down and roughly drew you up into a kiss. He was ravenous enough that you dropped his key to the floor, and passionate enough that all your thoughts turned to mush.

You melted into his grip as he pushed you against the counter, uttering the weakest moan you could as he parted your lips and began exploring your mouth with his tongue. The little nips of his fangs, the way his tongue bullied yours until you were drooling down the side of your mouth, it made your legs weak. Luckily his claws were there to hold you up.

‘Mmm- mm!’

Without words he hoisted you into his arms, letting your legs struggle to wrap around his waist. He was too big for you to fit but he was strong enough to hold you regardless, and indeed he relished in the chance to sneak a squeeze at your rear as he did so. Your hands gripped his muscular neck for dear life.

‘Nena—' he hissed between kisses, ‘mi nena- mi nena.’

Your back hit the wall as he pushed you up. He was getting rougher. His teeth kept hitting yours as the make-out grew messy, and his claws were digging small holes into your clothes. You gingerly bit his lip and he returned the favor.

When he pulled back you were panting for air.

‘Mig—f-fuck, Miguel—’

‘No talking’ he barked, pressing a firm kiss to your neck. You arched it back so he could access it more easily, and with an approving grunt he ran his tongue from collarbone to jaw.

‘Unless you’re screaming for me, no words’ he hissed in your ear. ‘I want to show mi nena, why you’re the best gift I could get.’

‘F-Fuck—’

As you tried to catch your breath he pressed his lips to your neck once more, gently kissing from spot to spot as if searching for something.

‘I want- to do something for you, nena. Something you said you wanted.’

‘You—what do you mean—’

He gave you no time to even respond before sinking his heavy fangs into your neck. All you could do was squeak.

It always surprised you just how big he was, how powerful. You felt his teeth moving beneath the skin as his lips sucked, a strange miasma of warmth, stinging pain and pleasure that lulled you into submission.

‘A-Ah- Mig—’

Your mouth fell open into a brainless gasp as he clamped his jaw on your frail skin.

‘Mm- mmm-‘

He let out a muffled moan as he started to slowly seep venom into your blood. The pleasure seemed to be too much for him as well, as he’d started to impatiently dry hump your body into the wall. Now penetrated on his teeth and crushed by his torso, you could do nothing but moan.

After god knows how long he retracted his teeth, carefully licking the wounds he’d left. You whined. You were lightheaded but not paralyzed this time, as it seemed he’d controlled the flow of venom. The rest was drooling down his chin and staining his shirt. He grunted and wiped it on the back of his hand, all while easily maintaining your weight with just one palm.

‘Good girl’ he groaned. ‘You okay?’

You gave a dreamy nod. ‘Y-Yeah… fuck yeah, just- you said, we couldn’t do that. I-It’s too noticeable.’

His self-satisfied grin made you even dizzier. ‘That’s my present to myself’ he purred, carefully admiring his work. Your neck was bruised and red from the hickey, with four clean marks showing his distinctive marking. He kissed each mark. ‘It’ll heal by the time everyone gets back, but, for tonight—’

You tensed as he leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. ‘You’re mine. And I will mark you as such.’

You whimpered at those words, something which stroked his ego to unimaginable degrees. He couldn’t contain his throbbing need any longer.

‘Now- let me give you your second gift’ he purred.

With your body suspended in his hands he began to teasingly rip each piece of clothing aside. He started slow, just using his fangs to gingerly unclasp each button of your blouse, but his cock was throbbing painfully in his pants at this point and the teasing was too much.

He resorted to just ripping it all to shreds, all while whispering that he’d buy you a new outfit.

Once you were fully naked in his palms he allowed his organic webs to stick you to the wall, with legs spread and arms pinned at your sides. He manipulated it to look like a shibari rope, perfectly highlighting each little part of you he loved. He whistled.

‘Gorgeous, nena. Mi nena hermosa.’

You were panting now, flushed and just a little shy to be no more than a display on his wall. You felt his clawed hands sink into your thighs as he patted them, enjoying the way the fat and muscle squeezed between his fingers.

‘Mine’ he whispered.

‘Ah- Mig—’

He crept closer and gently pressed his lips to your spread slit. His arm was hooked around your right leg, holding you close as he breathed you in. The feel of hot air hitting your clit made you squirm.

‘Mine.’

He repeated that word, once, with such vigor it scared you, before finally allowing himself to lick at your cunt. Your breathy moan filled his apartment.

‘Mig, f-fuck—!’

Your whole body shuddered as he began to messily make out with your spread sex, his lips and tongue ravenously moving between starving licks and hard sucking. You watched his head gently arch and bob back and forth with each movement.

Your clit was swollen at this point, with a desperate need to be touched, and each warm, wet, rough flick of his tongue was sending the most gratifying jolts of pleasure through your body.

‘Please, please, more’ you whined.

Miguel had tried to offset his own need by palming at his hard cock over his slacks, but he was just too aroused at this point. With a grunt he pulled back and manically ripped his pants down.

‘Fuck- you’re delicious.’

He jerked at his boxers until his cock sprung forth. You could see the little strings of precum already coating his lower belly and shirt, and internally whined that you didn’t get to lick them off yourself.

You watched as he started to stroke himself, his cock straining in his fist as he returned his tongue to your clit. You knew he was trying to make you jealous.

‘Eyes on me, nena’ he murmured, deliberately speaking close enough that you could feel his full lips moving over your spread sex. You squirmed in the bindings.

‘F-Fuck- you can’t show me that and- tell me not to look.’

He chuckled a little at your insistence. He couldn’t help but indulge. He was so used to despising his amalgamated body that seeing the way you foamed at the mouth for him was both arousing and comforting. He wanted to see you whine and strain, begging for his cock. He wanted to see you eye his muscled body like a starving animal.

‘My poor nena’ he cooed. ‘You want to look that badly?’

You nodded furiously. ‘Please- please, please—’

‘Okay. As you wish.’

With a smug final kiss to your inner thighs Miguel drew back from your body, instead bracing himself before you as he continued to stroke his cock.

You got a perfect view of his body like this, just like you wanted, but as punishment you were left wet and shaking with no stimulation.

‘M-Miguel, come on’ you whined. He shook his head.

‘No, nena, you get what you asked for.’

God, he did look good though. It was all you had to distract yourself from the aching throb of your clit as it begged for release.

You started by honing in on his face. That chiseled jaw, those full lips and narrowed, almond eyes, burning red in the dim light, it was a look that haunted your most perverse dreams nearly every night.

You swallowed hard and allowed your eyes to roam down. His body was just as enticing, after all.

His huge, sloped shoulders rippled as he rolled them, perfectly framing his fat, rounded pecs beneath his shirt. Your eyes drifted to the mounds of his abs, the way his waist and hips dipped in before sloping out to form his heavily muscled thighs.

You wanted to touch him so bad. You wanted your face in those pecs, you wanted your hands stroking the firm, sharp V cut of his pelvis leading down to what you wanted the most. His cock, now straining in his hand, thick and almost alarmingly girthy, its tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You strained in your web a second time.

‘Miggy- please, please, I’ll do anything!’

‘Muy preciosa’ he groaned. His own eyes were roaming now, eagerly gawking at your spread and naked body. You spied his cock throbbing as he looked at you and flushed, your skin glowing beneath the sweat now beading on your temples.

‘F-Fuck… this is so cruel—’

‘It’s what you wanted.’

‘I need you, please—’

‘Be patient, nena.’

He bit his lower lip as he started to peak, his own eyes glued to your spread legs, spying the little drips of slick sliding down from your desperate hole.

It was getting hard for him to hold back. He liked teasing you, yes, but it was almost painful to look and not touch like this. He wanted to bury himself in your hair as he rutted inside you, he wanted to bite your neck as he thrust your body into a mewling mess.

He wanted it. He wanted to penetrate you.

For just a second, in the heat and the passion and the peaking desperation, his mind lapsed. He indulged in that one perverse fantasy he tried his best to hide. He thought about cumming in you, and he thought about it sticking. He thought about cumming in you and knowing it would get you pregnant.

A low shudder ran up from his toes to his head, and he was forced to slow his fist to avoid coating the floor in his seed.

‘Fuck… fuck, okay. Okay. Teasing over.’

With a snap of his teeth he stormed back over and practically buried his face in your cunt. You jolted at the sudden intrusion.

‘M-Miguel—’

Your pleading turned to mewling whines as his full, flat tongue began bullying your clit, eagerly rubbing and stroking that sensitive nub while his hands got busy. With one hand still fisting his cock he allowed the other to slide up and inside you, filling you with two of his fingers.

‘F-Fuck--!’

‘Be good, nena.’

You bit your lip hard as he started to move his calloused fingers in and out. His skin was rough as it stroked your cunt, and he made sure that you felt it. He wanted to feel you, wanted to feel every tensing muscle and throbbing nerve, every wet little inch of that cunt he craved so badly to possess. He wanted to imprint himself on your insides.

As he began to fuck you with his fingers his lips buried themselves back into your folds, sucking ravenously at your clit. The double pressure was too much for you to take.

‘Miggy—fuck, ‘s so good—’

You could see Miguel’s eyes glazing over. It was his favorite thing, to put your pussy on his lips and taste you, to feel your wetness on your tongue. The taste, the sensation, it all made him feel drunk, but it was also so vulnerable of you to let this monster put you inside his mouth.

His soft nena, his sweet nena, letting him eat you out. Letting him coat you in his bodily fluids.

‘Cum for me’ he grunted. His fingers began to speed up. ‘Cum- for- me’ he begged, aggressively licking you between each word.

You had no escape; you obeyed. You climaxed on his mouth almost violently, straining and spasming with each throb of pleasure.

‘Miguel- f-fuck--!’

Miguel groaned as he felt you gush over his fingers. His eyes were hazy, his fangs bared. It was too much.

In a blur he used his claws to crawl up the wall, positioning himself so that his pelvis fell between your legs. He pushed down and began furiously grinding his bare cock against your clit, ridding out your orgasm with you.

‘F-Fuck, careful- c-careful, its- sensitive- m-mm—’

Your pleading went unheard over his panic panting and grunting. You lay back and let him grind out his frustration, his need, and allowed yourself instead to lull in the pleasure of his overstimulation.

‘So… fucking, good… soft little nena, fuck- you’re delicious.’

With a soft whine Miguel dropped back down, idly cutting you free as he went. He caught your body bridal style.

‘Ah- well, I-I think your present beat mine’ you panted. You were still lightheaded from cumming and had a dumb little dreamy smile on your face, and all you could think to do was tease him.

Miguel didn’t laugh. Without a word he carried your body across the apartment.

‘Ah- Miggy?’

Miguel gently put your body on the ground, allowing you to steady yourself before moving away.

‘Put this on.’

You jumped as he began manically pulling one of his shirts over your head, one so large on you that it looked like a dress. The moment your arms were through the holes he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder again.

‘M-Mig? What- what are we doing?’

You oomphed as he lowered you back to the floor and spun you around. Your eyes widened; you were pressed right against the open window wall of his apartment. He pressed you into it, hard enough that your breasts and belly were squished against the cool glass. Even with the t-shirt on it was cold.

‘I’m showing off my soft little thing’ Miguel purred. You realized, then, that he was stripping the last of his clothes off behind you.

‘Mig—’

‘Not completely, of course’ he whispered in your ear. ‘Only I get to look at you naked. But… I will happily demonstrate that you’re mine.’

With another low grunt he lifted you back up. He kept one arm braced around your waist and the other on your inner right thigh, spreading your legs apart as he lifted you to the exact right height. The perfect height, where his hips could slot in against your rear and his cock could brush up against your slit.

You let out a soft pant. You were horrified about being seen like this, but, were you? Was it not causing your post-orgasm body to throb with absolute delight? Was it not causing our insides to tense with desire?

After all, you wanted to be his, didn’t you? You wanted that mark on your neck. You liked the idea, secretly, of everyone knowing what he’d done to you. You started to tremble with excitement.

His breath stirred your hair as he adjusted his stance. You could feel his bulbous member nudging at your pussy, begging it to take him.

‘Miggy- fuck, please, please do it.’ Your hole was clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. Miguel chuckled.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want- I want you to fuck me.’

‘Who do you want to fuck you?’

‘F-Fuck- ah, M-Miguel, I want you to fuck me, please—’

The breath was knocked from your lungs as he forced his cock inside you. He had to push a few times to get deeper, gently but urgently coaxing your muscles to loosen up, but with a final sigh he pushed in and bottomed out. You winced, your fingers scraping on the glass.

‘Mm- good girl nena, that’s it. Just- stay still for me. You’ll adjust. Good girl. Good girl.’ He was already panting, his chest heaving like a drowning man taking that lifesaving breath.

You bit your lip until it bled. God, you could feel him sliding around inside you. His little explorative slips were creating the most toe-curling sounds; soft, wet squishing noises, mixed with the soft slap where he’d bottomed out and was hitting his pelvis against your rear.

‘You like that, nena?’

You manically nodded your head. ‘M-Mhm, mhm.’ 

Your legs were shaking. He was deep enough to hurt, deep enough that whenever you moved even an inch you could feel his cock pressing into those soft walls. He was stretching you hard; he’d filled all the space available and then forced you to make more. How did you keep forgetting how large he was?

‘Good, good.’ Miguel stretched his neck and settled himself into a more comfortable position. With both hands bracing your waist and hips, he angled himself to start thrusting. ‘Now, stay like that, and let’s give them a good show, eh?’

Before you could respond he’d started to fuck you, his hips bucking to get deeper. You moaned aloud.

He was rough from the start, eagerly rutting against your rear in a way that made the most erotic smacking sound. The glass was cold on your bare chest and belly as he pushed you up against it.

‘M-Miguel—’

‘Shh, you’re doing good nena. You- feel so, so good.’

His breath condensed against the glass with each hard pump he took. Each rhythmic thrust was perfectly timed with his hot, heavy panting.

‘Fuck… fuck, you’re- so big—’ Your attempt at praise was jolting into fragments, as each hard slip of his cock was enough to wind you completely. Miguel’s grip tightened as he pushed you harder against the glass.

‘You’re so small, nena’ he purred. ‘How do you take it so well?’

You mewled as he angled himself to kiss your cervix, a sensation that ached while still being unbearably pleasurable. Your body was like a limp doll in his hands, stretched and fitted to his massive girth.

‘You’re mine’ he groaned.

‘You’re mine. Mine- mine—’

He gave three hard thrusts to match each utterance of his claim over you, each once drawing another loud moan from you. The city lights blazed around your body as he held you up and rutted between your legs.

‘Mine—mine—’

Through the snow it was hard to tell if anyone could have seen you. Someone in one of the skyscrapers across the road could certainly get a view of your silhouette’s manically fucking against the window, and that was enough to make you clench.

You wanted to be his. You were his.

But then, right on the cusp of some utterly gratifying peak, Miguel pulled out of you. His cock sent a pool of slick dribbling down your thighs to the floor where it formed a small puddle, an embarrassing display of how much you’d been squirting.

Usually Miguel would have teased you for it, but he was manic right now.

‘Fuck it- I need to look at you.’

He pulled your body up bridal style and carried you back over to his unmade mattress, throwing you onto it with little delicacy or thought. He was too horny for that.

Now on your back he ripped his own shirt from your body and threw it aside. You didn’t even get a chance to speak. All you could do was moan as he split your legs apart and pushed in between them, easily slipping his girthy shaft back inside you with a guttural groan.

‘Fuck- fuck, you look so good.’

His eyes were fixed on you as he started to rut again, his hips bucking and smacking your pelvis until it was numb. Your hands flew up to his neck where you held on as hard as you could.

He wanted it all. He watched each part of you that bounced when he thrust into you. He watched your eyes roll and your coy little lip bites when your cunt squelched for him. He watched the way you winced and mewled when he kissed your cervix with his cock. His hands suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them down, forcing you to face him.

‘You like that, nena?’

‘Ye- f-fuck- yes, y-yes—’

You’d been fucked dumb at this point. You could barely get a word out. Miguel smirked.

‘Are you mine?’ he barked.

‘Yes.’

‘Say it.’

‘I-I’m yours, Miguel.’

His fangs flexed as he started to thrust harder. He pulled out all the way and then snapped his hips, penetrating your sopping pussy as deep as he could, until the overstimulation became too much for you and he resorted to just roughly humping with short, fast thrusts while halfway inside.

You were pathetic at this point. You’d drooled on his pillow and your slick was pooling on the unmade sheets. You’d cum a second time during his erratic thrusting, but you hadn’t even had the strength to tell him. All you could do was worship, meekly moaning his name with each thrust.

‘Miguel—Miguel—Miguel—’

Once again, on the verge of climax, Miguel indulged. He just couldn’t stop that intrusive fantasy.

He pictured himself somewhere else, anywhere but here, holding you down in his hands as he fucked to completion. You were his, all his, and he didn’t have to hide you or fear you. Perhaps you were his wife, or fiancé at the least. He could be your husband. He was yours, and you were all his, and now he was going to finish in you. He was going to breed your perfect little body. He was going to get you pregnant, because you wanted him, and you wanted to carry his babies.

He bent back to watch his cock as it penetrated. He was thrusting hard and thrusting fast, desperately pumping back and forth.

‘Mi nena’ he whined. ‘I’m going to cum in you now, okay?’

You felt every curve, every inch, every throb as he got closer to his own climax. You could tell he was close because he was getting erratic. His rhythmic pumps were becoming animalistic.

‘A-Ah- please, Miggy, fuck- please cum in me.’

Your hands scrabbled to hold onto anything as his groans got louder. Those words from you were too much for him to handle.

‘Gonna- cum in you- so hard—’

‘Miguel!’

With one extra loud groan he ejaculated, thrusting hard with each spurt to ensure it got as deep as possible. He wanted you to take it all, and you did. You were frozen in place, trapped, taking every inch of the larger man’s load. Those thick, white ropes filled every inch, all warm and wet and heavy.

Miguel whined as his thrusts slowed, until at last he rocked to a halt.

He’d done it again. He’d slipped back into the fantasy, imagining just briefly as his orgasm took over that he was breeding you. Now as he struggled to catch his breath, he felt that lingering guilt and shame.

Luckily, he had you here to wash away that guilt. He looked down and watched you pant beneath him, your lips parted and eyes utterly glazed over. Your muffled moans of satisfaction filled him with pride.

‘Good girl’ he whispered. He bent and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

‘N-No, no, it… mm…’

You tried to speak but quickly collapsed again into a mushy pile of pleasure and exhaustion, something Miguel found very privately amusing.

‘Alright, just- stay still, I’ll, get you a towel.’

Miguel slid out of you carefully. He watched his seed drip out as he pulled away, clinging to his shaft and pooling from your hole. He heard you give another muffled moan as he released you from the heavy weight of his cock.

God it made him dizzy. Even knowing that it couldn’t do what he wanted it to do, it still made him rabid. As he pulled out fully he couldn’t help himself; he used two fingers to sneakily push some of his cum back inside you. It felt wrong, yes, but it felt too good to not do. It sent shivers up his spine, and even post-orgasm his cock twitched as he watched himself stuffing you with it.

With that guilty indulgence out of the way he did then do what he’d promised, pulling on his boxers and rushing to find you a towel while you lay face down in his bed. When he returned after a few minutes of looking for a clean one, you were still in the same position.

‘Nena?’

You awkwardly waved your hand to show you were alive. Miguel chuckled again. He gently bent at the knee and helped clean the mess he’d made of your thighs, all while you moaned and shifted in the sheets. He quickly tossed the used towel onto the pile already filling his hamper before crawling back into bed with you.

‘Mi nena.’ He immediately shoved his face into your hair, breathing in your scent. You squirmed until you were pressed right against him.

‘Hey there, bestie.’

Miguel snorted a laugh. ‘Alright. Fine. I did say you could do it in private.’

‘Mhm.’

With a sigh Miguel rolled onto his back and puffed up the pillows at his back, allowing him to lie slightly propped up while you clung to his side. You nestled your cheek into his pec as your arm explored his belly.

You weren’t sure how long you dozed beside him. There was something especially comforting about lying side by side, completely naked and alone beneath a thin sheet, slowly warming yourselves off of each other’s body heat.

You were so cozy, for lack of a better word. You were safe, warm, wanted. And so was he.

As the sky turned dark and the snow gained a ghostly glow against the windowpane, Miguel gently shook you awake.

‘Hey, nena?’

You rolled your eyes up to his face.

‘Yeah?’

‘You awake?’

‘Well I am now.’

Miguel’s half-smile betrayed just how uncommon it was for him to smile anymore, but as he watched your grumpy little face nestle into his chest it became a little easier to do.

‘I… ah, okay. How do I say this…’

He smooshed his cheek as he gazed into the distance, his foot nervously tapping on the mattress edge. You tilted your head.

‘You okay?’

He shot you a glance as his hand came down to his jaw. There was a strange intensity to his eyes that took you off guard.

‘Mig?’

Slowly, bit by bit, that smile returned. It was strained, yes, but soft as well.

‘I like you’ he said. You blinked.

‘You… what?’

‘I like you’ Miguel repeated. He sounded a little more confident this time. ‘I… I like you a lot.’

You blinked again, unsure of how to respond. You defaulted to that same awkward, lopsided smile he’d given you earlier. ‘Aha, oh boy. Uh- I mean I like you too, but that’s a bit—’

‘No, no.’

Your eyes widened as he put a claw to your lips, smooshing them shut. As he smiled at you again he tilted his head, a move so adorable it made you squeak. It was so oddly vulnerable to see such a huge, chiseled man beaming with his head tilted like a curious dog.

‘No. I know what you’re thinking. That’s what someone says when they don’t want to admit they love someone. It’s a cop out, right?’

You shyly nodded and shrugged, trying to downplay how you’d felt, but he didn’t seem offput. His smile widened.

‘I don’t mean it like that, and I can prove it, but- first, just hear me out, okay?’

You nodded again, and watched as Miguel withdrew his claws from your mouth. He slid them down your lips to your chin, carefully resting that hooked, curved point on the soft fat beneath, and with the slightest of ease he tilted you to meet his gaze.

‘I like you’ he said softly. ‘I like you, just- as a person. And I don’t know the last time I’ve admitted that. I’ve met… thousands, millions of people, across a thousand universes, and in maybe 0.001% of cases I realize, I like this person.’

You felt your cheeks glowing under the intensity of his stare.

‘But I like you, and worse, I like you so much more than any of them. You’re so, kind, and carefree, and interesting and funny and... I used to think you were naïve, but you’re not. You’re worried, all the time, like me, but you try so hard to still be kind. I don’t get how you do it. Maybe I never will, but- I admire it. I adore it. And, I adore you. You’re just, so… so, ah- what’s the word…’

‘Soft?’ you mumbled. He actually let out a soft chuckle at that, and this one wasn’t sarcastic.

‘Yeah. You’re soft. My… soft, thing.’

You felt the heat growing in your face, and with it the glow increased. You pouted to try and offset how obvious it was that you were fawning over him.

‘I- I like you too, beautiful man’ you replied.

Miguel’s smile widened until you could see his fangs. For just a brief moment, you watched those soft smile lines erase all the hard, angry wrinkles in his face, revealing a strange vulnerability beneath.

‘I love you, nena’ he whispered.

You were mortified. Not from the words, but from your reaction. A high-pitched whine escaped your throat as your whole body tensed, your heart thundering in your chest, and as you tried to bite it all down at once you nearly made yourself sick. It must have shown because Miguel’s smile immediately dropped.

‘Ah, nena, are you—’

‘YEAH I’M GOOD! I’M—FUCK—I LOVE YOU TOO!’ you stammered in a manic cry.

Miguel looked a little offput at first, clearly confused, but it quickly dawned in him that you were panicking. He snorted back a laugh as you buried your face in your hands.

‘Oh my god I’m so sorry—’

‘No, nena, you didn’t do anything wrong’ Miguel soothed. He put a hand on your back and began to rub, all while you continued to make muffled apologies into your palms. ‘You’re all good.’

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—’

‘Why are you sorry, nena?’ he asked. You felt him put a sympathetic cheek against the crown of your head. ‘Do you have any idea how happy that made me?’

When you continued to whine Miguel opted to just grab you, pulling your whole body into a tight embrace. He forced your head between his pecs and your arms to his chest, while his muscular legs came around to encapsulate your own.

As the snow swirled outside he cradled you against him, warm and safe, totally cut off from the rest of the world. You felt your eyelids drooping.

‘I love you’ you whispered. Miguel fought the urge to cry.

‘I love you too.’

Somewhere a clock chimed, beeping to indicate that midnight had passed.

‘Merry Christmas, Mig’ you whispered into his chest. He squeezed you a little tighter.

‘Merry Christmas, nena.’

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 153

Hi people, it's time to do an update on this week's writing progress. Stay tuned for a sneak-peek for Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge at the bottom of this post!

Current WIPs:

Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary: Doctor Robotnik is simultaneously touch averse and touch starved, which results in a plan to "get the touching needs over with" in the most efficient way he could think of: cuddles overnight, when he wouldn't be doing anything useful anyway. Agent Stone was not privy to the plan until they arrived at their hotel room for their business trip.

Progress: Chapter 2 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 23rd of November. Chapter 3 is finished and will be posted on 30th of November aka next Thursday. Chapters 4 and 5 are also finished :D

Originally this was supposed to be a threeshot, but chapter 3 got so long that I cut it into two chapters, and chapter 4 reached the desired word count perfectly naturally, so it was clearly a necessity. Chapter 5 just kind of wrote itself, it's a shorter epilogue chapter that the fic didn't really need, but now that it's there it perfects it, so turns out the fic did need it, I just didn't know it. Anyway, it's all written now and only needs to be posted.

—–

I'm Signing in the Drain

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary): Not many people know this, but Doctor Robotnik is actually deaf and uses hearing aids to make up for it. Agent Stone does not know this, he just kind of assumes he's told to learn sign language upon being assigned for some other, mysterious reasons, and not as a "just in case" measure.

Progress: This fic will have at least three chapters, maybe four, maybe more (if I decide I actually want to do more with this concept than my initial idea, because the potential is there). The second chapter is almost done. The first chapter is now about 1/3 done.

I'm actually not sure if this fic will end up being Stobotnik aside from Stone being Big Gay as usual, cause Robotnik is being very aroace right now and I don't know if he'll give Stone a chance or not, as that is not really the point of the fic. We'll see how this shapes up.

—–

SBLF (workname)

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog, movieverse

Summary (temporary):

Wanted: a yesman who is capable of operating an espresso machine, has at least a higher IQ than your average amoeba, and is willing to put work before having a personal life, or indeed a life, period. The extra in your pathetic paycheck is good, but the strain in your psyche will make up for the positives. Forfeit your basic human rights and apply today if this sounds like you. 

Maybe it said something about Agent Stone - and probably not good things - that the poster in the cafeteria's pin board piqued his interest more than any of his official assignments had for a good long while. 

Dr. Robotnik, huh?

Progress: This one will be a longfic, probably around 20 chapters. It's a bit hard to estimate at this point, so the number is subject to change. Or I might cut this into two fics in a series, because quite honestly, it's two stories in one package (that is, half of it is pre-canon and half post-canon, so you know, could easily have two fics.) My writing hours will be devoted to this fic.

I have the first three chapters completely written now. Chapter 4 is half done. I also have two halfway written chapters that don't yet know their exact placement within the fic (they're scenes that will be slotted in to wherever they feel natural, once we get Stone settled in.)

—–  

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to Someday™:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Rolling with it (Zelda: BotW)

Hah, our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest! (Hazbin Hotel)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Keep the Cuddles Platonic -challenge (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

It was a perfectly average day at Doctor Robotnik’s laboratory. No business trips, no missions, no field tests, nothing but staying at the lab. Stone’s workday would be from ten to six, he’d do his usual everyday work, no meetings scheduled, no presentations, no visitors, no deadline crunches.

Simply a regular Thursday.

Except it was going to be anything but.

When Stone came in for the day, the lab smelled off in a way that was hard to define. Curiously, he walked up to the big crossroad that divided the lab building into two distinct halves and sniffed the air, pinpointing that the smell was coming from the left corridor, which meant the origin was likely the testing lab. Upon entering it, he could immediately see the cause of the smell: the large steel glass cabinet where the doctor tested various weapon proofnesses of his prototypes was covered in soot, metal bits, and chemical splatter. In short, the machine he had worked on yesterday when Stone clocked out had exploded upon testing.

Stone cringed in sympathy. That was days of careful work gone up in smoke just like that. At least he hadn’t been here to get yelled at for it.

—–

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

Links:

My AO3   My FFnet   My Ko-fi    Radiohusk Discord Server

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

I’m halfway through a goddamn Katya/Sofia fic thanks to this stupid meme edit and I feel like I made a wish on the monkey’s paw. >:(

Katya had been maybe sixteen when she realized that most men wouldn’t waste an opportunity to explain something--anything--to her.  She knew why, of course.  Her mother had been practical about Katya’s beauty.

“We’re all brothers and sisters under Stalin--” You never knew who was listening, even at home. “--but you have a chance to get a seat closer to the head of the table, if you marry well.”

Explaining things gave even nervous and shy men an opportunity to demand her attention, to keep talking to her.

It had been the thing that first set Goncharov apart, when she’d met him.  He’d been ambitious, even then.  Cosmopolitan, clever, driven.  The import business was lucrative, but dangerous.  Give the wrong person too small a bribe, smuggle too much of the wrong thing, come back a little too comfortable with capitalist decadence... there were many ways to fall, doing what Goncharov did.  You had to have balls and brains both, and from what she knew he was doing it well. She’d thought he could be a useful contact to cultivate.

“Do you really need me to tell you?” he’d asked, when she’d feigned ignorance about something. “Or is it that you want me to tell you?”

It hadn’t been a transparent ruse; she hadn’t wanted him to think her an idiot.  But he’d been watching her as she’d been watching the rest of the room, seen her weighing up her options, charting her course.  Their positions had been reversed enough times in the years since--he’d known what she was up to because he’d been up to the same thing.  She could see him even now, in her mind’s eye, looking at her and thinking what a pretty, fashionable, social-climbing wife could do for a man in his position.

Katya had been older when she’d recognized, with a startled flash of gratitude, that it worked with women, too.  There’d been a freedom in the exercise of that power that she reveled in, a freedom that wasn’t there when she talked to men.  She’d felt like a god, like a hypnotist, like a witch from a fairy tale.  When it was another woman, she could give anything, take anything, and the next day, it would all be like it had happened in a dream.

It was a technique that worked even better in sun-drenched Naples.  Katya barely had to thicken her accent, to make her phrasing a little more stilted, and men would believe practically anything.  She could point to a fishing boat and say, “And what is that?” and they would trip over themselves explaining the ocean to her, as if perhaps they didn’t have maps and ships in Russia.  It had paid dividends so far around her husband’s new associates--they were careless of the things they said to each other in front of her, provided they said them in Italian.

Sofia was not careless, and Sofia wasn’t in a great hurry to explain anything to Katya, and when the day’s business was done and Katya had a moment to herself, she found that it made her want to tear her hair out.  Or perhaps Sofia’s hair. 

That would at least break the glacial calm on that porcelain face, bring some expression into those dark eyes.  And it would be very satisfying, getting a great fistful of those raven curls and giving them a good hard pull.  Sofia might even make some noise, if she did that.

Katya had met commissars with less self-possession than Sofia.  If the Italians hadn’t proven themselves inveterate chauvinists time and again, she’d have suspected Sofia of being one of Ambrosini’s assassins, though Goncharov had told her they did things differently here.

“They have a system,” he’d said, when she’d told him she didn’t trust Andrey around him. “Like a machine.  If a man wants you dead, the word passes from one man to another until it gets to a man he’s never met, and you’ve never met.  That’s the man who kills you--a stranger.”

It was uncivilized, apparently, to kill your own enemies.  Katya wondered if they made love the same way.

Katya thought of giving someone a kiss, letting it pass from mouth to mouth until it came to Sofia from a stranger.

“How do they know why a man is dead?” she’d asked. “How do they know who ordered it?”

Goncharov had spread his hands and shrugged, mimicking Andrey’s response whenever someone brought up too many specifics for his taste. “They simply know.”

There was an art to it, in Russia.  The giving of absurd alibis, the witnesses who were mistaken.  Everyone saw a man or his right hand walk into the home of his enemy, but then when the police came no one had seen it after all.  Enough money was paid, and then the police stopped asking.  People knew to take you seriously, that you weren’t someone to slight or to cross.  People knew there was fire in your blood, that you’d come for them.  They knew what it was over, too--after that, they stayed away from your woman, or your money, or your family.

The Italian way seemed little better than putting it in the hands of their fickle god.  She might as well go into one of the cathedrals and pray for Sofia to kiss her.

“You’re sulking,” Goncharov told her one morning.  She hadn’t been sulking, but she still didn’t trust Andrey, and he was coming over after breakfast.  Goncharov forgot sometimes that she could watch him, too. “I’ll call Mario and have him send Sofia over.  She can drive you to the market.”

“And get what?” she asked.  She was sulking now, just a little bit, because she didn’t like being accused of sulking when she wasn’t, and because she didn’t like the eddy of excitement and disappointment swirling in her belly.  She could ride in the back while Sofia drove and look her fill.  She could make Sofia carry her bags and translate for the merchants at the stalls.  She couldn’t make Sofia pay attention to her.  She couldn’t make Sofia look back.

“Whatever you want.” His gaze went to the flowers in their vase at the center of the table, bright, beautiful things unthinkable this time of year back home. “Something you’ll remember, if we can’t come back again.  Something to write your mother about.”

Katya stopped sulking.  Goncharov was right to keep the possibility of being recalled in mind.  There were others who wanted what they had, and it was easier to bend an ear when you were there in person instead of basking in the Mediterranean sun.  The Italians had a fickle God; she and Goncharov had a fickle Party.

“Fine.”

By the time she had finished dressing, Sofia was waiting on the front steps.  Andrey couldn’t help but stare at Katya when she swept past, that thing she didn’t trust pulling his eyes tight under his thick brows as Goncharov kissed her cheeks.  Andrey clasped her hands lightly, a combined greeting and farewell, and the band of her wedding ring shifted under his grasp.

Sofia checked her watch instead of staring when Katya came to the door, and Katya wished petulantly that she could show the same level of detachment.  Sofia was dressed well but not extravagantly, and Katya couldn’t help but let her eyes trace the shift of Sofia’s muscles, the sway of her curves, the toss of her hair.  Katya had dressed well and extravagantly, all reds and golds against the bright white of her dress, and Sofia found the scratched glass face of her wristwatch just as compelling.

It was infuriating.  If Sofia had been Russian, she’d have understood what she was doing.  Katya could have done something about it, if Sofia at least understood.  They could have fought in the street.  Katya could have slapped her and torn her braid and called her something indecent in front of everyone.  Katya could have made Sofia hate her, if nothing else. 

But no--the Italians did things differently.  Katya would just look like a barbarian, and Goncharov would have to smooth things over if they wanted to keep the rubles flowing back to Novorossiysk, and it would either be like it hadn’t happened or retribution would come out of the blue, from nowhere.  To not even have the luxury of Sofia’s anger--it was intolerable.

Katya envied the wind that tousled Sofia’s hair on the drive to the market.  She should stop making a hell of paradise and tell Goncharov to ask Mario for a different driver.  Mario had insisted, when they’d taken the house.  The roads in Naples weren’t like Russian roads, he’d said.  They needed an experienced hand at the wheel.  And it was better for business to make sure the driver was discreet.  Mario would arrange for drivers, as their friend. 

Katya thought that he sent Sofia to drive them because Mario hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her that first night when they’d met over dinner, and he thought that what he couldn’t do, no man could do.  Mario didn’t want trouble, not the unpredictable kind of trouble.  Not over a driver.  Katya didn’t know if it was because Italian women didn’t know how to love or if it was because Italian men ignored love affairs between women the same way Russian men did.  Or maybe Mario just knew Sofia.

The market was drowsy and quiet when they arrived, and Katya tried to imagine what the streets in Leningrad looked like now.  It had been such a long time since she’d been home.  There wouldn’t be flowers now, she was certain of that.  Her gaze fell on a patch of vivid red.  Or pomegranates. 

She remembered the first time her mother had given her one.  She hadn’t known the trick for opening them yet, but she’d wanted the seeds so badly.  She’d ripped it open with her hands, precious tart juice staining her nails and running down her arms.  Her father had laughed and called her his little lioness before giving her a knife to do it properly.

Katya hesitated, hand resting on the plumpest one in the pile.  There had to be limits to even Sofia’s stoicism.

“What sort of apple is this?” she asked, picking it up and turning it over.

“Apple?” Sofia asked slowly.  She was probably trying to decide if Katya had said the wrong word or if Katya was playing a joke on her.

A joke, of sorts, but Katya would never admit it. “Da.  What sort of apple?  The skin is so thick.  Do you need a special knife to pare it, as you do with your cheeses?”

“It’s not an apple.”

“Then what, if not an apple?” Katya tossed it in her hand, demonstrating its firmness.  A persimmon of the same hardness would be vile, completely inedible.  Her gold bracelet flashed on her wrist as her hand moved.

“It’s a pomegranate.”

“A what?”

“A pomegranate,” Sofia repeated, irritation creeping into her voice.

“What do you do with them?”

“You cut them open and eat the seeds.”

Katya picked out a half dozen and paid the boy minding the stall.  After that it was easy enough to keep going.  She knew what Goncharov would like.  Fresh white bread.  Some sort of exotic hard cheese ripened in caves by the sea, made with the milk of goats fed on herbs and sweet grasses by the same family since the time of the Romans.  Jam from fruit that you couldn’t get in Moscow, wine that tasted like herbs grown in the sun, flowers that could fill a room with their perfume. 

Time was fleeting, and fortune was more mercurial even than God or the Party.  What point was there in denying yourself when someday the memory of past pleasures would be all you had left?  She and Goncharov understood each other in that respect.  They understood, too, that there were things a person could do to put a thumb on the scale and maybe keep fortune by their side longer.

“What sort of wine does Signore Ambrosini like?”

“I don’t know.” Sofia shrugged around the bags. “He doesn’t drink when he’s conducting business.”

Katya had a moment to think that it was perhaps Sofia’s turn to play the game, then dismissed the thought.  Sofia’s attention was already on the next stall.

“Not even when things are concluded?”

“No.”

Katya tried to imagine it.  It was a bad idea to get too drunk, even once things were agreed on and the papers were signed.  Tempers could get out of hand, words misunderstood.  But not drinking at all would be like spitting in a man’s face.

“Doesn’t that get in the way of doing business?” she asked.  How could a man trust a business partner who wouldn’t even drink with him?  A man who thought he was too good to share your vodka would never honor a bargain with you.

“Not that I’ve seen.  It’s more professional.” Sofia shrugged again, paper rustling at the movement. “He doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean to say.  Keeps his temper.”

Katya shook her head at that.  Perhaps being bred in the peninsula’s warmth let the people cultivate a certain cold-bloodedness.  If they tried it in Russia, they’d freeze solid and break apart like a sheet of ice on a window pane.

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

[thatfanficstuff]

Miss Me More - Caius Volturi

Pairing: Caius Volturi x Reader

Warnings: nope

A/N: Celebration Summer #20. This fic is inspired by Miss Me More by Kelsea Ballerini.

***

Loving Caius Volturi meant change. Lots of it. After all he was a king and you were just you.

“There are certain expectations if you’re going to be with me,” he’d said one night as you sat by the fire.

Your eyes snapped to him in surprise. “What sort of expectations?”

He gave you that soft smile you loved so much. The one that had you agreeing to that first date. “Nothing major, my love. Just a few little…changes.”

***

Jane stood in front of you holding a dress nicer than anything you’d ever worn. You shook your head. “That’s a little over the top, isn’t it? I’m just walking around the castle. What’s wrong with what I normally wear?”

“Your clothes were fine when you were simply a member of the guard, but you represent Master Caius now. Your appearance reflects on him.” She smiled at you, waiting for you to comply.

You sighed and took the dress from her. You had your own funky style and you loved it. This dress so wasn’t you. “Can I at least go shopping and get some dresses that are more me?”

Jane’s smile grew tight. “That is unnecessary. Your closet has already been filled with the appropriate attire.”

“Oh.” You slipped into the dress and turned for Jane to see.

She clapped her hands together. “Perfect. Now, I’ll help you with your makeup.”

“I can do my own makeup,” you assured her.

“Master Caius has suggested that I help you find a more neutral style.”

You felt a pang in your chest. Were you really so wrong the way you were? You picked up your favorite signature red lipstick and showed it to her. “But—”

She snatched the tube from your hand and threw it in the trash. “Let’s try a nice light coral instead.”

***

You’d spent the evening entertaining vampires from another coven. You felt like a stranger in your own skin. This dress. The makeup. It just wasn’t you.

“You were very quiet this evening,” Caius observed as he escorted you back to his room. “Are you alright?”

You simply hummed hoping he’d take it as an affirmative. You’d had a knot in your belly since Jane had shown up with the dress and were afraid of what you’d say if you opened your mouth.

He nodded in thought. “Your appearance was perfect. Nicely done, my sweet.”

You twisted your hands together wondering how long you were expected to wear the dress. Somehow you thought Caius would be displeased if you donned your favorite sweats.

“I’ll have Jane replace your footwear,” your love said almost absently.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

He smiled as he moved to you and placed his hands on your waist. He pressed a kiss to your lips. “You and I are nearly the same height, Y/N. Three-inch heels make you taller than me. That’s hardly appropriate.”

***

Caius walked into your room with a frown. You set your book aside. “What is it?”

“I understand you went shopping with Demetri and Felix yesterday,” he said.

You frowned. They were your best friends. He knew that. He also said you could only go if you took guards with you. You didn’t see the problem. “What of it?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It isn’t appropriate for someone of your station to befriend the guard.”

You stood to your feet and mirrored his position. “I am the guard.”

“No. You were the guard. Now, you are my companion. Next time take Afton and Sebastian. I wish for you to limit your time with Demetri and Felix.” And with that, he turned and left the room.

***

It was one thing after another. You were too loud. Too quiet. Too reckless. Too careful. Every day they chipped away a little more of who you were. And you let them. You let them form you into the perfect partner for Caius because you loved him. Couldn’t live without him. And this is what he wanted. Wasn’t it?

“This isn’t working, Y/N,” he said to you one afternoon.

You blinked in shock. “What do you mean?” Your voice broke and you hated it but felt like you’d earned it.

“You’re just not the woman I fell in love with anymore. Your very presence used to bring joy to my life. Now…We’re done. I’ll have your things moved to your old rooms.”

***

You stayed in your room for a week. Everyone thought you were mourning. Coming to terms with the end of the relationship. In reality, you were finding yourself again. You had the dresses sent back to Caius’s room along with the shoes. You snuck out one cloudy afternoon and replaced your wardrobe and found that perfect shade of red lipstick.

At the end of that week, you dressed in your favorite outfit including your boots with the five-inch heels. You painted your lips red and blasted the playlist that Caius hated. Halfway through the third song there was a knock at your door. You swung it open to find Demetri and Felix smiling at you.

You squealed in happiness and threw your arms around their necks. Demetri looked you over as you released him. “You look good. You look like you. How are you?”

“I’m…happy to be me.”

***

Nearly six months after Caius had broken things off with you, he came across you in the gardens. You were playing some song he hated while you danced around with Demetri and Felix. His eyes followed you as you laughed and twirled as you sparkled in the sun. You were well and truly happy and he felt that familiar tug he used to have with you. That desire to be with you and only you.

He started to approach you until you twirled into Demetri’s arms and he kissed you soundly. You laughed again, the sweet sound filling the air. Caius gave you one last longing look before disappearing back into the cold castle.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Bundle of joy [Sirius Black x Reader] ['What they call home' OS] - Requested

Title: Bundle of joy Pairing: Sirius Black x Lestrange!Female!Reader Word count: 1.4k Published: 9 May, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: When you realise there’s a little baby growing in your belly, it terrifies you. Both you and Sirius had a rough childhood and now that there’s a new life inside you, your ability to raise a child concerns you, especially as you’re in the middle of a war. Notes: Part of the series What they call home, but can be read separately. Request: [x] by Anonymous

"Because I love Drama and the Lestrange X Sirius so much - Could you do an extra OS where Lestrange tells him that she is pregnant? Before that she is very distant (Generally afraid of the pregnancy and afraid of becoming like her parents as a mother) and often met a healer from the Order to ask what she is allowed to do/ not to do. 😊 (Of course only if you have time to do it)"

Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes​​

Square filled: Fix it fic

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Make me feel Bingo Masterlist

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It’s been 2 weeks. 2 whole weeks since you found out. 14 days exactly. 336 hours, 20160 minutes, 1209600 seconds. However you kept calculating, it still felt like forever. There was no doubt, no way to avoid the inevitable. As you walked out of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, you were trying to grasp the idea of having a tiny human growing in your belly. A life that you were to nurture for the next 7 months within you. You were supposed to be happy, full of life, planning creative ways to tell all your loved ones. But how could you. The only thoughts that came to you were anything but positive. Your parents made your life a living hell, your bothers were death eaters and as difficult it was to admit it, you were one of them, even though you didn’t agree with their views.

How were you supposed to raise a child when the only examples you have been taught were how to hate? How were you to raise a child when you didn’t even know how to hold one? But most of all, how were you to tell Sirius, the man who meant more to you than anyone in your life? Children or family for that matter never came up in your conversations. You just couldn’t imagine walking up to him, stating your findings as simple facts. The man would have gotten a heart attack.

You were seated in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with a steaming cup of tea in one hand and an enchanted polaroid photo of a tiny smudge that barely even resembled a baby just yet. You jumped in your seat as you heard the entrance door open and quickly hid the photo in your pocket. It wasn’t the right time, you weren’t ready to tell him just yet.

Sirius walked towards the kitchen, halting in the doorway, peeking in the room to catch a sight of you. “Hello, love,” he called with a soft smile across his face. As he approached you, his steps felt heavy and uncertain. But it was no surprise to you. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked as he stepped beside you and hinted a small kiss on the top of your hair, but once again, just like you have done many times before, you pulled away from him.

“I’m— I’m good,” you replied with a faux smile, trying to stop him from worrying, but you knew he realised your distant behaviour. He kneeled beside your chair, getting hold of your hands, holding them gently, drawing little circles on your knuckles.

“I know something is wrong. I know you are trying to hide something. If you are not ready to tell me, that is fine, but please don’t lie to me,” he pleaded with you as he left a small kiss on the back of your hand, reassuring you that he was ready to wait for you to open up.

“I just need you to give me a bit more time,” you whispered, your breath shaky and uncertain as you squeezed Sirius’ hands.

“As long as you need,” he offered you a sweet and genuine smile as he let go of your hands and cupped your cheeks, kissing you on your lips. His mere touch always made you feel safe, as though nothing could ever hurt you. But you knew in that moment that you were more afraid than ever.

“I wish that was true,” you sighed heavily, averting your eyes. “I’m scared, Sirius,” you exhaled, leaning forward and placing your forehead in the crook of his neck.

“Love, what are you afraid of?” He asked in confusion, running his hand through the back of your hair, trying to sooth your worries.

“Will I be like them?” You asked, earning a questioning humming sound from Sirius. “Like my parents. Will I be as horrible as them? I’m their blood after all,” you heaved a heavy sigh, your breath hitching as tears started escaping down your cheeks, soaking Sirius’ thick coat.

“Where is this coming from?” He asked, stunned. “You are nothing like your parents or your brothers. You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever met, both inside and out. And if you don’t believe me, ask yourself, have I ever lied to you? As far as I’m concerned, I have not. You are nothing like your family. Can you please tell me where all this is coming from? You are making me really worried,” he pleaded with you as he hinted a small kiss on your temple.

“Do you really think I’m nothing like them?” You asked as you leaned back to look into his smoky eyes, needing reassurance.

“Anything but, love,” he replied with a soft smile, hoping to cheer you up, earning a small smile from you.

“Sirius— erm, I was thinking— what do you think about children?” You tried to bring up the subject as softly as you could. If you could, you could have delayed the inevitable, but as he kneeled in front of you with a worried look across his face, you knew you couldn’t leave him in the dark any longer.

“Children?” He asked with a deep frown across his brows, your question catching him off guard. “I like them, I guess. I mean I have a really good relationship with Harry, Ron and Hermione and it seems little Teddy likes me too,” he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“And what do you think about having your own child?” You questioned, feeling your heart took on a faster pace, your palms sweating in your nervous state.

His eyes widened, your question surprising him. “What— what do you mean?” He asked stuttering, but you just bit on your lower lip and let your head fall forward whilst playing with your fingers. “Hold on a minute, do you mean— as in you and me— are we going to be parents?” He asked with a shocked expression, lips widely parted, eyes growing round. You weren’t sure what to say, how to say it or what would be the right words to use, so instead you nodded. “Is there going to be a little you and me— a miniature us running around?” He repeated as if needing further reassurance, he didn’t misinterpret your gesture.

“Yes— there is going to be a little one running around in approximately 7 months,” you replied with an awkward smile as you placed your hand on your belly, with the other reaching for the photo in your pocket. He took it from you, his face turning pale for a second, realisation hitting him hard, before his lips started curving up into a small smile.

“That— that is absolutely brilliant,” he began to chuckle as a wide grin spread across his face. “Just imagine what a handful he or she is going to be,” he laughed.

“Are you not afraid?” You asked.

“Of what exactly?” He furrowed his brows.

“Of us not being good parents? We are both from families that do not have a good record in providing a loving home,” you voiced your concerns.

“Not at all,” he smiled proudly. “If anything, we know best what we were missing and what we would like to do for that little one. We can use the lack of love we had as an advantage, because now we know how important it is for a child to be brought up in a healthy, loving family,” he took your hand in his, gently squeezing it.

“But Sirius, we are in the middle of a war,” you retorted, still unsure of your ability of bringing up a child.

“We are in the middle of a war now and we were in the middle of a war over a decade ago. You can’t stop the circle of life because of evil people. Don’t think about all the negativities. Think about the fact that I love you, you love me, and we will have a beautiful bundle of joy who we will love just as much,” a content smile spread across Sirius’ face. “At least little Teddy will have a playmate,” he chuckled playfully as he pulled you up into a standing position and sneaked his arms around your waist. “I love you and I already love that little ankle-biter more than anything,” he whispered into your ear.

“I have no idea how I got to be so lucky to have you,” you replied with tears filling up your eyes.

“Those better be happy tears,” he raised a questioning brow, his foolish smile still plastered across his face.

“Only,” you chuckled as you cupped his face and pulled him down to meet your lips halfway. “I love you so much,” you breathed against his lips, before you closed the gap between the two of you once again.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

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Taglists are in reblog from now on

[locahaz]

shoot your shot - a one shot

a/n: hiiii this is my first posted fic on my refurbished account soon if you see this and you like it, lemme know!! Request some things, I would love to go back into writing. Enjoy x ..................................................................................................................................................................... harry plays on the football team where you are the medic helping out and things get quite interesting when he invites you to his party

warnings: mature content

word count: 11,1k

-------------------------------------------

I felt it from the moment I had walked on the field with the others. 

Someone was staring at me. Or everyone was. I didn’t look behind me to see if it was true, but I could feel their eyes staring straight at my ass. They asked me to wear athletic clothing for this, so I just chose the first thing in my dresser that I saw, picking out some black yoga pants. The material clung to my butt and I regretted I had put them on the moment I had arrived here. My oversized sweater I chose to wear over it luckily covered my upper half, a decision I did appreciate I made now.

Walking onto the sports centre was nerve-wracking in itself. I liked sports, I liked watching it, but having the possibility of someone else watching you do something was disturbing. I couldn’t find the way I was supposed to go. I didn’t bring my hair tie so I was forced to keep my hair floating around my face and this place was huge. There were several buildings and a squala of fields for specific sports. Indoors, outdoors, you name it. The college was probably sponsored by some wealthy upper class fathers who wanted their sons to be on the radar for new opportunities.

Luckily, I was led right to the canteen which was easily locatable since it had a terrace. A terrace! Lord, I feel like I should’ve worn other clothing for this. 

I approached a team player who had blond hair, feeling the nerves floating around in my stomach, “Uhh… Hi.” 

The boy who was filling up his water bottle turned around, raising his eyebrows, “Hi there.” 

Shit, he was nice. I inhaled, “I was looking for uhh, the football team…” He gave me the same look, “I was asked to help.., or I need to help with their inju-”

“Ahh!” He exclaimed, disregarding his bottle and he turned to fully face me, “You’re the one!”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I guess I am?”

“My name’s Niall.” He held out his hand, “I’m the star player of the time you’ve been assigned to!” 

I shook his hand, smiling a little. “Hi,” We still held hands, “Do you know where I’m supposed to go?” 

Still holding my hand, he began shaking it up and down. “I’m glad we finally have someone.”

“You are?”

“Yeh, we desperately need new people to liven things up a little.” 

I pried my hands from his grip, which wasn’t that strong. But I was already sweating, I didn’t need more reasons to be nervous. “Alright, that sounds good.” 

The pregnant pause that followed made him inhale and pack his bottle in his bag, “You are probably wanted by the football field, which is right there.” 

He pointed out somewhere behind me, making me turn my head. I already saw some players dribbling with the ball, so that was easily recognisable. “Go to the coach, he’s the tallest and biggest one. Has a loud voice too, probably won’t miss him.” He grinned, making me smile up at him. 

“I’ll meet you there in a second, we’re starting in like two minutes.” 

I nodded, “Alright, thanks…”

“Niall.” He answered for me, giving me a wink. “But you can call me anytime.” 

I rolled my eyes at his remark, but by the look on his face and the laugh that followed his statement, I knew it was to lighten my mood and assure me. 

I walked towards the field with a small smile on my face and with a lot less nerves. The players were now assembling and putting their heads together so I walked towards the dug-out and waited for them. There weren’t a lot of spectators or bystanders standing around the field, since it was a friendly game. I inhaled again. This should be fine. I recognized some of the players. They were all from the same college after all. Why did I sign up for this? I’m such an idiot.

When the team was done with sharing strategy and doing their, what appeared to be a yell, the trainer walked towards me. I was nervous when he approached me, he towered over everyone. 

“Hi Mattie,” he said, “You ready?”

I stood there, with my own little bag of supplies in my hand. I nodded. Luckily he spoke to me when I got drafted for this, so I already knew him. What if it was someone else who ended up being the coach? Since our conversation was very brief, you’re a nurse, I’m in need of a carer for the team, the deal was easily made. I didn’t know exactly what to take with me for this, but it was a college football team anyways, so nothing was really high-class. I had put some aspirin, plasters, scissors, antiseptic wipes, bandages and tweezers in my supply bag. That should be enough for a college team right? Surely they wouldn’t crash and fall every single game. He saw me fiddling with the bag, and smiled at me, “Good luck.” 

I nodded at him in gratitude and looked around the field. Gosh, couldn’t I talk? I was punching myself in my head. The trainer, whose name I seemed to have forgotten the second after the interview, sat down on his seat. 

Right now, all the players on the field were starting to go to their positions, other members of staff, the referee, seconds officials and the trainers and staff of the opposing team, all seemed ready to go. It wasn't hot or cold, but the slight breeze that blew over the field chilled me just slightly, making the tip of my nose go red. My job was already halfway done, which is just waiting for something to happen and providing the supplies they needed. If something did happen, I was the chosen person to help the players and fix their injuries. I didn't expect that these games would be very intense anyways. The players often knew each other since the teams were always against other colleges. Today it was just a practise match to start off the season, so I should be fine. 

The minute everyone started and the whistle blew, I wondered where Niall even was. Wasn’t he one of the players? As everyone was running and shouting on the field, I felt like he fit right in. I let my eyes wander. I didn’t know that much about football. I rarely watched the Champions League, I could just about name all the rules. The players, however, were something that did interested me. Especially the ones I already knew.

As I was sitting there, everyone seemed to be in the right place and doing exactly what everyone expected of them. The coach shouted an obnoxious loud praise towards his team, making me jump in my seat. The referee whistled at what suggestiably were the right times. No-one seemed to be getting angry at him. They were getting into it already. It'll probably go fine tonight, and my nerves I had bubbling in my stomach would probably be for nothing. At least, I was hoping for that. I watched the players going for the ball intensely, running after it and passing each other the ball. 

Right as the spirits of the team heightened and they almost scored, Niall crept up from behind me. “You didn’t even give me your name.” 

I shrieked, startling even the trainer who was deep into the game, “Jesus, Niall. Don’t scare me like that.” 

He sat down next to me, “Sorry, babe.” 

“My name’s Mattie.” I said, looking at him briefly. He nodded his head, “Like that.” 

I smiled, turning my head towards the field. “Aren’t you playing?”

He pointed towards his knee, that was covered by his track pants, “This annoying thing won’t let me.” 

“Ahh, that’s too bad.” I grimaced. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, “get to sit next to you.” 

I rolled my eyes again. “You’re not getting any.” 

He burst out laughing, “What! How could you resist me?” 

I playfully smiled at him. I was glad he was here to ease my nerves, “Dunno,” I glanced at the field, “quite like the others.” 

“You already know them?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded, “same college.”

Liam was the goalie. He was broad, quick and could move fast so he was the one that suited that job the most. He was also rough, and shouted really loudly which was a benefit when he would have to coach the team from the goal. He scared opponents off easily, grabbing the ball before they could shoot to keep the score at zero. Liam shared a house with Zayn, Louis and Brad, who were also playing tonight. Zayn was a little bit more of an introvert, and I didn’t really speak to him much. He did show he was a good midfielder though. He was quick and could pass the ball to his teammates effortlessly. When he did score though, he wouldn’t hesitate to cheer loudly and scare everyone with his intensity. 

Brad was a little bit older than the rest, but he was great nonetheless. He was very broad in the shoulders and had legs every gym boy would be jealous of. He was the ex-boyfriend of my sister’s, who also attended this college a few years ago. But to me, he still felt more like an older brother than someone who had been in my sister’s life for years. 

Louis was very serious. He was known for only having one thing on his mind, and that was to score goals. He was quick, could dribble fast and made the stronger players against him look back at him in surprise. Others called him Suarez because he was just that good, and his name was close to Luiz’, which made it easier for his teammates to choose a name. He was actually the only one, alongside Harry, to maybe get upgraded to a higher team. From what I heard of some girls on campus, was that he was a bit snarky. He had some quick-witted comebacks, and he didn’t care if he would hurt your feelings.

The house right next to their one, was filled with other boys from the team. This one was occupied with Josh, Ben and Harry. They had been friends since they were around sixteen, and now had the best bond you could have as college brothers. The three boys were always seen with each other, going out together and even doing groceries together. It wouldn’t surprise me if they also fucked the same girls. 

I actually didn’t know them that well, they were just known around campus. That house was classed as the party house and had a reputation of being used to shag a new girl every week. Don’t get me wrong, they were also good at their sport, but the girls they pulled mostly went for their looks rather than for their skills. 

It wasn’t a surprise that two of the boys that I knew, Louis and Harry, played as strikers, in the centre forward position. Harry was the only one that I had never actually spoken to before but knew from the parties. He was in the team because he was good, but also because he could easily show off to the ladies that way. He was popular amongst the college, mainly because he offered up his house to all the party-goers that wanted to celebrate a win that he created. No-one complained about that, seeing as he was gifted with the most attractive face on the campus. He could dribble the ball, yes, and he had the skill of a young Neymar when it came to approaching the goal. But with those eyes and smile with dimples, and his full head of curls that were covered in a backwards snap-back most of the time, I couldn’t help but check him out instead of his moves on the field. He was the captain of the team, living up to his name. He was also a leader of the group outside of football, which made all the girls like him even more.

“Ahh,” Niall exhaled, “shame I don’t know you.” 

This time, I shoved him, making him laugh. He was already a pain in my arse. “Fuck off.”

The boys were playing for around fifteen minutes now, without something happening that would probably make me do some work. The coach was getting into it, standing up every so often and giving the players some tips. He had really created a team, I felt like. You could feel the bond and fondness between them. When a player fell down, another player helped him up and patted him to ask if he was okay. When it almost went wrong and the opposing team had a shot at the goal, everyone from the team would shout positives to each other. It felt like a real team. This team wasn’t only together while playing, though. I had seen them all at parties together and they also liked to play outside of the games they already had. 

I was really into it the first fifteen minutes, but now I was growing kind of bored. Sure, watching boys play was fun, but with no work or particular action, it was kind of boring. Especially since it was a friendly match. The one form of entertainment I got, however, was Niall, who was really into the game.

“Fuck’s sake, Leon! You’re a defender! You should play in the back!” He shouted profanities to his team mates, cheering them on. 

When Niall saw that Leon didn’t comply, he nudged another player next to him and said something in his ear with a scowl on his face. It made me grin lightly in my seat, him being so serious. I liked watching them already. 

“Come on!” He yelled again, standing up in his seat, “Run Louis! Go after…” 

I was looking at Niall with a smile on my face. I also saw how his face turned into a grimace and his hands went to cover his mouth. “Oooh,” 

I looked at the field, panicked. Niall nudged me, tapping his hands on my arm. I saw that Louis had fallen to the ground, his arms holding his leg up now, groaning in pain. It was probably his ankle. I didn’t know what to do at first, shocked that something had actually happened. I looked at Niall, who was already looking at me, nudging his head towards the field. “Go!”

I jumped from my seat, wanting to run straight to the victim. I saw the referee signing for me, which made me run onto the field even more desperately. After a couple of seconds of running, I realised I had forgotten my bag. Fuck. Seriously? Groaning to myself in embarrassment, I quickly grabbed my supplies and ran a little quicker to the boy who was lying on the field in pain. 

“Hey,” I said as I approached him, a little out of breath from running so quickly. 

He didn’t look at me, just kept touching his ankle. It made me frown, it was probably really bad. He was crying out in pain, and some teammates and opponents had gathered around him to see what happened. In the meantime I had wet the sponge in the bag that the coach had brought with him, stretching Louis’ leg. He didn’t really want to, resisting to want to move it. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.” 

As I was wetting his ankle to cool it down over his shoes, I tried to look if it was bruised or if it had swollen up. None so far that I could see, so that was a good sign. I stretched his leg a bit to keep it moving, but with his socks on, I couldn’t see if there were any wounds or cuts. I tried to sit him upright, but he wasn’t having it. “Calm down,” He hissed, still holding his ankle. He sat upright now, finally looking who was taking care of him. When he saw it was me, he raised his eyebrows. 

“What’re ye doing here?”

I looked at him in shock, already not wanting to help him anymore. So much for running hurriedly over to him. I tried to not react to his degrading question, although it was hard. I continued to check out his foot, trying to place it straight down on the field. He placed his other food next to the injured one, and leaned on his knees with his elbows. The trainer gave Louis a bottle with water, which he gladly took. He took a large gulp, sitting there for a while. Was I overreacting or something? He seemed to be in a lot of pain, why was he now so calm and chilling?

I started grabbing my things, giving Louis one last look to see if he was okay. He seemed to be fine, being helped up by another team mate and testing to stand on it. 

I couldn’t believe this, he was groaning about his ankle no less than one minute ago! What an idiot. Letting me come all the way over here for nothing. As I was walking away frowned my eyebrows in confusion. If it was going to be like this the whole time, I was gone. Not gonna happen. I was here for a reason and the team mates should take that seriously. 

I looked back one last time to Louis who was now laughing with Brad, which resulted in me bumping into someone. His back was hard. He had drawn his head back so he could fill his mouth with water, causing me to also run into the back of this someone’s arms. 

“Fuck, sorry.” I exclaimed, “I shouldn’t..”

When he turned his head around and I saw who it was, I immediately shut my mouth and stared at him. I was frozen into my place for a moment, not knowing what to say. He turned around completely, a dimple showing on his face. I blushed. He was even more attractive up close.

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” He didn’t look angry or anything at all, he actually smiled, which made me feel a little bit better. I wanted to keep on walking to let me soak in my distress towards the situation that just occured, when Louis spoke up again from behind us, “So who’s the pretty girl who wears tight ass clothes to her job?” 

I heard him laugh quietly at his own remark, and he said it loud enough to let his mates in on it too. Instead of just ignoring him and walking on, I decided to turn around and shout after him, 

“Someone who can actually pull it off.”

His team mates ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at my quick remark. I sighed. Harry was still looking at me. I saw his face turn into a frown, silently apologizing to me with his gaze. I shrugged at him. My comeback towards Louis made me feel good again. He’s the idiot.

When I turned around again, and actually began walking, I smiled quietly to myself, forgetting the situation. This was going to be an interesting job.

--

The whistle blew, announcing the end of the game. For a practice match, the game went surprisingly well. There weren't any more instances or fake ankle injuries, what I was glad about. Harry had scored the one and only goal, which made the team go home with a win. Even though the game was for practice, they were pretty happy about it.

"Okay boys! Bundle up," the coach announced as everyone was walking off the field. I was still standing by the dug-out, not really knowing if I had to say goodbye or when the next game was. I saw everyone rounding around the coach, listening in, just like I did.

"Great game, happy about this one. Leon, next time: please bring your shin pads, so you could actually play and I could see what condition you're in. I have made notes and I will be announcing who's playing this Saturday, before the real game." The team looked around at each other, gauging who played good tonight and who didn't. 

Apparently they used this match as a mock try-out, so the trainer and coach could see who were in shape and who weren't for the first big game on Saturday.

"Before you all go, I would like to introduce you to our new on scene doctor, who will be helping you if there's anything actually wrong." He glared at Louis when he said that last part, making him scowl.

I took a step forward, looking around the group. I saw that everyone was intensely looking at me, so I spoke up quickly, "Hi everyone, my name's Mattie and just like Patrick said, I'll be helping you guys out during the games."

"You'll help me out outside of the game, too?"

I ignored him, saw that Niall was once again encouraging me and disregarding his team mate who shouted that from the group, nodding his head for me to continue. I smiled a bit, and went on, "I'm studying to be a doctor, and I'm currently doing the bachelors for it, so yeah.."

Patrick, the coach, nodded at me and returned to the group, "For now, keep in shape boys and help each other out. I haven't decided anything yet so miracles can happen!"

The team shuffled away quietly, talking to each other. I tapped Patrick on his shoulder, "Sorry, coach, is there some place where I can put my bag so I don't have to bring it with me every time?" 

He nodded, gazing above me to where the boys were walking, "Of course Mattie, just a moment,” He took two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, making me try to cover my ears, “Captain!" he shouted, "Harry come here!" 

I turned around and saw that Harry was saying goodbye to his teammates, as he already heard his couch, before jogging over to us. He nodded at me, looking me up and down and placed his arms in his sides as a greeting and turned to Patrick, "What's up coach?" 

Patrick cleared his throat and looked at me, "Mattie here would like to put her bag in the dressing room so she won't have to take it with her," he started grabbing his keys from his pocket, "you can show her, yes?" 

Harry nodded, taking the keys from him. "No worries coach, I'll help her." 

The coach patted Harry in his shoulder, "Thank you, bring the keys to my office tomorrow. And work on your left foot!" 

Niall was waving goodbyes at me, so I quickly waved back, “Bye!” and turned towards Harry. 

With the team and Niall gone, it was just Harry and I. It was still dark, with only the lights from the field still on. Harry jiggled the keys in front of us, and winked at me, "I'll show ya," 

It wasn't that I was nervous or anything, but I hesitated for two seconds before strolling behind him. He was so cocky, with his kit still on and smirking all the time. I couldn't help but watch him while he was playing. He had a certain glow around him, an aura that just radiated confidence. He could probably pull everything off and he certainly could wrap everyone around his finger. 

"So you enjoyed the game, doc?" 

I cringed at the nickname, but decided to let it go this time, "I enjoyed watching it yeah," 

Nodding, he faced me, "You liked my goal?" 

He said it with a smirk and as if he knew I was watching him the whole time, which was true, but he didn't need to know that. 

"Actually, I really liked how Leon could outrun everyone on the field.." 

He stopped abruptly and turned around, in the middle of the path. Once he was fully in front of me, he leaned in, “I saw you watching me, you know.”

Because he stopped suddenly and leaned in immediately, I accidently took a step too much, almost bumping into him again. “Maybe I was watching Louis.”

He laughed, showing me his dimple as he looked to the side. “I know you weren’t, that douchebag really doesn’t know how to play it.”

I nodded my head, and rolled my eyes as if he was stating the obvious. “That’s right.” 

I began walking again, not really knowing where to, but at least in the same direction we were already going. Harry followed me soon after, jumping into step with me. I already saw the building coming closer, which made me think of something. “Why aren’t you all showering in the dressing room after a game?”

He bumped his shoulder with mine, which made me notice the height difference we had. He was a lot taller than me, my eyes looking straight at his collarbones when I turned to look at him. 

I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows in question. 

“You would like to see that, huh?” He stated, smiling shyly at me.

I groaned, “Harryy..”

“Already moaning my name, I see.” 

This time it was me that bumped my shoulder with him, making him laugh in response. “I was just joking, love.” 

When we fell into step once more, he looked ahead and started explaining my question to me, “No we’re not there because it was a practise game and obviously we want to go home fast so we can go to the party later, so we just decided to shower at home.”

I nodded my head, kneading my eyebrows in confusion. There was a party tonight? I haven’t heard anything about that. I quite liked going to parties. Normally my friend Niamh made sure we could get invites so we could go together, but not tonight apparently. It was a Wednesday after all, so maybe she just wanted to stay in tonight. “A party?” I asked Harry. 

He nodded, “Yeah it’s like a frat party only, I would have gotten you an invite but I didn’t really know you before this, soo..”

I laughed, grinning to myself. Harry was really nice. At least, nothing like I had pictured him to be in my head. I didn’t like to judge people before I knew them, but with Harry that was kind of inevitable. Also, I couldn’t exactly invite myself now since he said he didn’t know me but I already knew him. I was not going to make a fool of myself, obviously. So I just shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it.”

We had reached the building where the shower rooms were. We walked quite slow, and it was already quite late so it was kind of eerie here. No lights, the doors were all left open and there were no people to be seen. 

“So these are our shower rooms,” Harry started as we walked into the building after he unlocked it, “We normally take the first one, so you can just put your stuff in there.”

The dressing room was big and spacious. Everyone had a seat, there was a whiteboard in there and the showers were in a separate room. The closet that stood against the wall next to the showers, held all the equipment. “There,” Harry said, as he took my bag and placed my stuff in, “A special place for you.”

As he placed my stuff in the closet, I could finally see how he’d looked up close. He still had his short sleeved football shirt on, revealing his tattoos on his arms. For a guy that was still in college, he sure had a lot of them. Not that I minded. 

“Thank you Harry,” I smiled at him, at which he winked in return when he faced me again. Gosh, I could almost feel myself getting red. I was acting like a schoolgirl, I needed to step up my game. “I’ll remember this place,” I said, as I looked at the showers. I could almost imagine all the naked boys right here. 

I smirked, glancing at the shower himself, “I’m sure you will.”

After making sure everything was locked and closed, we started to walk back to the parking lot.  I was sure Harry was also with his car, considering campus was at least a twenty minute walk. Right as we reached our cars and I wanted to say goodbye, he faced me again and leaned on his already open door, “You know what, Mattie?”

I looked up from the inside of my car towards him, giving him a questioning look. “What?”

“You free Saturday?”

He said it so casually that I wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t asking me out on a date was he? I mean, I was attracted to the guy but I barely knew him! And it wasn’t like I wanted to go out with him, really. But I did want to see him. With hesitation evident in my voice, I answered him, “Yeah, why?”

He saw my facial expression and laughed a bit, “To take you up on my offer. We’re having a party again at our house, so if you’d like to come?”

I almost sighed in relief, “Yeah, I’d like that, thank you Harry.” 

He shot a quick wink at me as he started to climb in his car, “No worries!” As a last afterthought, right as I wanted to shut my door, I heard him shout, “And bring your friends!”

--

My friend Niamh was present at the game this time, too. We were here a little early, so we could catch up on our week and talk about everything that had happened to us. She was a friend from years ago, almost from when we were kids, so she knew everything about me. Unfortunately, she didn’t want to be a doctor and had chosen to go pursue her dancing career. She was really good at it, too. She was asked to dance in videoclips and she often performed on stage with singers or bands. It was her job now, one she always wanted. It made me proud of her, because she actually went for it, and ignored her parent’s complaints about it. She had proved them and their comments about how she was never going to make it, wrong. 

We sat in the canteen, which was still fairly quiet. The game would start at two, and it was now one thirty. I had only been to a professional game once, and then I arrived at two on the dot and I didn’t even look if there were many people there. The only time I’d been here was when I met up with the trainer to see if this was the right place for me to take my extra credits. I could choose to work in an elderly home, or at the swimming pool, but I had decided that this would be more fun for me. I didn’t mind watching 22 boys running after a ball for two hours back to back, particularly. 

Niamh had ordered a coffee whereas I preferred cold drinks over hot drinks, so I just stuck with some soda. “So how has your week been, Matts?” She said as she took a sip of her drink. 

I smiled at her, excited to tell her she would be having something to do tonight, “Actually, I need to invite you to something.”

Her eyebrows perked up, and she placed the drink on the table, “To where?”

I grinned, “Harry Styles asked me if I wanted to come to this party at his house tonight, and said I could bring some friends.” 

“No way!” She exclaimed gasping, “Harry Styles from the team?” 

I nodded happily back at her, “That’s the one.”

She already started to grab her phone, so she could text our friends, I presumed. “When did he ask you this? I didn’t even know you talked to him!”

After I placed my drink down from taking a sip of it myself, I shrugged casually at her. “Well, I had to help at that game you know,” I said as she nodded at me, “And right after he had to show me where I could put my stuff and started talking about this party he had this Wednesday----”

“Oh yes!” She interrupted me with wide eyes, “So that’s the party Emily talked about! She said she had fucked the captain of the team, and that he was quite good. That’s Harry right?” 

I paused, opening my mouth in surprise. “What? Yeah he is the captain.” 

“That’s so sick! I have to text Emily about this party tonight then,” She said, grinning excitedly at me and putting her phone down to look at me again. “Anyway, go on, I’m listening.”

I coughed, choosing to ignore this disappointing bit of information, “Yeah so he told me about that party and that he couldn’t invite me then, which is a bit weird if I think about it now, but anyways, he invited me for tonight and said I could bring some friends.” I forced a smile on my face as I finished my story and looked at her. 

She copied my smile, “That’s great! Maybe I can finally meet Niall and get to know him better, if you know what I mean,” She said as she wiggled her eyebrows. 

I laughed, genuinely excited for her. “I hope you will!” 

After I had finished my drink, I announced to Niamh that I had to leave if I wanted to be at the dug-outs on time. She wished me well, and said that she would see me tonight. After I hugged her and said goodbye to her and the bartender who had served us, I walked out of the canteen towards the shower rooms. 

I needed to grab my bag if I wanted to be helping players today. Today they had to play against a popular college not far away from where we’re from, so it was kind of exciting to be able to see that. The coach had probably announced who would be playing and who wouldn’t for today, which made the pressure on the players to play well a tad bit higher. I knew that obviously Harry and Louis would be playing, along with our goalie Liam, but the rest of the team was still unsure. For me it would be kind of fun if Niall was still benched, just for entertainment, but he would rather be on the field, I’m sure. Hopefully his knee was doing better.

I had reached the shower rooms and discovered that the door was still open, allowing me to walk right in the building. I knew Harry said it was the first one when we dropped my bag off, so without hesitation I whipped open the door. Right as I did that, I heard commotion and deep yelling from from the inside, causing me to rapidly close the door again. Shit. How the fuck was I supposed to know they were still here, they were just warming up outside!

Bowing my head in embarrassment, I quickly walked out of the building. I would just grab my bag when they were out so I didn’t have to walk in with all of them staring at me. I waited outside, leaning against the wall and just staring ahead at the field they would be playing on. They were taking their sweet time. Probably just discussing the match quickly just before the game started, but to me it felt like ages.  

The other team was walking towards the field in a pack, and the referee started to walk towards this building, probably to let our team know the game was about to start. I actually felt nerves bubbling in my stomach, with everything being so serious in comparison to the last game. There were a lot of supporters walking towards the bleachers, too. 

I was just staring at the field again when the door opened and everyone on the team started to walk out. First it was the coach and trainer, who nodded in greeting. The coach was needed here too, apparently. I saw that Niall walked in the front with his jacket still on, so that meant he was benched again. When he walked by me, he ruffled my hair. “Hey Matts!” 

“Hey!” I shouted after him, “I’m here to help you, you know!”

He turned around and laughed loudly, pointing at his knee, “Not me!’

At that, I didn’t have anything back to say knowing he was benched again, so I just shook my head. 

“Is he messing with you?” 

I heard Harry’s voice before I saw him, making me look up towards him. He was walking at the back of the team’s row to get out of the building with a smile on his face, standing out from everyone else walking before him.  

When he reached me, he stopped and raised his eyebrows, awaiting my answer. “No it’s just Niall,” I told him, shrugging my shoulders indifferently. 

“Right,” He smirked, “Well, I figured ‘t was you that tried to come in during our important speech, so I decided to grab your bag for you.” 

My heart swelled just a little bit at his kind gesture, having not expected this at all from him. Shit, you should never listen to rumours, huh? He proved once again that he could actually be kind.

“Wow, Harry! Thank you so much. That’s so kind of you to do that!” I grabbed the bag from him and in a split second decided I wanted to hug him. I threw myself in his arms, catching him off guard for a second. My bag that I now carried in my hand whipped him in his back, causing him to groan in my shoulder. Hugging me back, he draped his arms slowly around me, positioning them right above my ass. 

When I loosened my arms around him, I nodded my head towards the field, “You should probably go,”

He nodded in confirmation, still standing in close proximity to me. “I do.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder blades, and wished him luck for the game, “Break a leg Harry, or don’t actually.”

He laughed at my comment, showing me his dimples. Before he walked away towards the field, he winked at me, “I’ll try not to.”

When I saw him run on the field and give his teammates one last cheer for good luck, I smirked to myself watching him. It was a good choice to wear my tight yoga pants again, at least. 

--

The game was very intense. Not like practise-match intense, but full on competition match intense. Louis luckily hadn’t faked any injuries yet, so that was a good sign. However, I had to run on the field in the first half for Liam, who had taken a good shot right in his eye. He fell to the ground, making me run on the field for him. When I got there, he was already sitting up and not at all groaning in pain like Louis had, making me smile a bit. At least Liam could handle something. I also discovered his injury wasn’t fake, because I could see a bruise forming immediately. I cooled it a little, but told him it would be better if he took some rest. He said that he’d be fine and would just tell me and the coach if he wanted to switch between the other goalkeeper and him. I was still a bit concerned, but he insisted. So I walked back with my supplies and some worries, hoping that it was really just a shot with the ball, and it wouldn’t turn out to be something worse. 

The score was 2-1 for our team, with just ten minutes to go when I came back from grabbing some more water. It was so tense, all the players were proper going for it. The bleachers were filled with supporters, all reacting to the match as if their life depended on it. When the opponents came near our goal, they would stand up and shout at our defenders. And when our team was striking and near the opponents goal, they would yell and scream for us to score. I was nervous too. I was on the edge of my seat, hoping that the score would stay the same. I was fiddling with the hem of my shirt to stop myself from standing up and screaming towards the players. 

We did have a good few people that came out to support us, yes. But our biggest supporter sat on the bench. He was biting his nails, screaming in frustration and cursing loudly whenever we missed a goal. 

“Fuck! Who in their goddamn mind would even pass like that!”, or “Holy shit! That was fucking close!” and my favourite: “Son of a… get that fucking ball in the goal you arseholes!”

Least to say, I was entertained for the match.  

Currently we had the ball on our side, passing each other the ball and walking forwards towards the goal. Once we had crossed the midfielders of the opponents, Zayn passed the ball towards Brad who then passed it on to Ben. Ben had a good shot, and could easily get the ball miles away. So when Louis sprinted towards the goal, Ben saw an opportunity to pass the ball onto him. He put the ball in front of him and shot the ball, right into Louis’ feet. I could see that Louis was looking for someone to help him out, because there were two defenders near the goal and he couldn’t pass them himself. Luckily Harry had seen it, and sprinted with him on the other side. He made sure he ran close to the goal but not to close, so he had the space to shoot the ball right in if he got it. He shouted for Louis to pass the ball onto him, and Louis immediately did. The ball was flying over the defenders, in a straight line towards Harry. Harry prepared for it, taking his foot back so he could place it right on it. He jumped, the ball almost near him, and kicked the ball--- 

Right before he could kick it, a defender sprung onto him making Harry fall right to the ground. “Nooooo!” Niall yelled loudly from beside me, “For fuck’s sake no!”

I heard everyone gasp from the audience, immediately voicing their worries from behind me. I panicked for a second, freezing in my spot. Shit! Harry just fell to the ground. He was laying there, in pain. I heard the coach shout my name, making me snap back to reality. Immediately I grabbed my bag, and ran towards him in a hurry. Shiiit. Why Harry? Others had gathered around him, so I couldn’t see how Harry was doing. Right as I arrived near him, I shouted for them to walk away. 

“Everyone! Leave!” 

My voice must have sounded really angry or intimidating, because everyone hurried away quickly. This way, I could finally see Harry. He was laying on the ground, on his back. He had his hands on his forehead, making me think there was something wrong with his head. Hopefully he didn’t have a concussion or something. The defender that had pushed him to the ground, was still looking at Harry. He was probably worried about what he’d done, but I didn’t care. 

“What are you doing? Leave!” 

He started saying that he was sorry, and that he could help, but I wasn’t having it. “I don’t care, leave before I force you.” 

He nodded, worry evident on his face. For a second I felt bad, but then I saw that Harry was still laying here, and then those thoughts escaped my mind right away. The defender walked away eventually, leaving me alone with Harry. I looked at him, seeing how he had one hand over his head, feeling for bruising. The moment I sat down next to him, he turned his head towards me. He opened his eyes, and smiled.

“Am I dreaming?” 

Relief washed over me immediately. At least he could still make jokes. I began sitting next to his head, wetting my sponge once again and placing it over his head. “You okay, Harry?” 

He nodded, his head in front of my knees on the ground. I looked at him from above, so that I could see how his body reacted when I would do certain things to see if he was okay. Right now I had my hands on his forehead with the sponge in between, “I’m fine actually, Mattie. I just wanted you to come save me.”

I rolled my eyes, not believing him. “No you didn’t.” 

He laughed, causing his chest to go up and down, “I did,” He smirked, his eyes shining as he looked at me. 

I shook my head in disbelief, staring at him smiling at me for a second. But then I remembered I could take revenge. He saw that I was wetting the sponge again, and began to sit up straight. “No you won’t!’

I began splashing him with water in revenge, making him soaking wet. I was laughing my ass off, seeing him so flustered and shocked at what I was doing. “Mattie! Shit, stop!”

I was aware that the rest of the team and the coach were still watching us, so I stopped splashing him, throwing the sponge in the water bag. I took a step towards his soaked body, pressing my lips together and looking him in the eye mischievously. “Next time you’ll play a joke on me like that, I’ll take you to the hospital so you’ll have to sit next to Niall for a month.”

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “Noted, doc, noted.” 

As I walked away smiling and the referee began gathering everyone together again, I heard him shout one more thing after me, “I’ll pay you back tonight Mattie! Watch out!”

I just shot my middle finger in the air, hearing him bark out another laugh in response. 

--

The party was in full swing when Niamh, Emily, Joey and I arrived. It was in Harry’s and his roommates’ house, one that I had never been in before, let alone seen how packed it could be. Everyone that was just a little bit known around campus, was there. I recognized some people from my class, and others I knew because they were popular around campus. 

When we arrived, the door was unlocked and you could just walk right in. That wasn’t unusual with the parties I went to, if we ever went to house parties. There was a pile of jackets formed, so we just threw ours over it. Joey and Emily claimed they knew some people and went off to speak to them, leaving me and Niamh alone at the party. 

“Let’s have a drink,” Niamh said to me over the loud music, “We need to get drunk to process this!”

I nodded in agreement, already taking her arm towards the kitchen. It was already quite busy, but we had come a little late. We didn’t want to be the first ones to arrive, as we didn’t know a lot of people here. All the drinks were placed on a table, leaving us with a lot of choice of what we wanted to drink tonight. I hadn’t realised before this that these college boys actually spend a lot of time planning these things. They had a lot to think about. And to be fair, they had done a good job at it.

We had appropriately dressed ourselves, luckily. Since we didn’t really know what to expect, we just went for black: Niamh wearing a tight dress with spaghetti straps and me wearing a skirt with a t-shirt. It was something you could never go wrong with.

I poured myself some alcohol, waiting for Niamh to do the same. Once we both had our drinks, we leaned against the table and started looking at people. This was our favourite activity to do. You saw some crazy people at parties, so we had a lot to think about. 

“Oh wow, there’s already people on the edge of drunkenness.” Niamh laughed, raising her eyebrows at a boy who had run straight towards the loo. “Jesus wept.”

“Shit,” I exclaimed, looking at a girl who had just came in with a gift in her hand, “It’s someone’s birthday? Did we need to bring a gift?”

She just shrugged her shoulders at me. “No fucking clue.” And resumed to look around the room. We had been sipping on our drinks lightly, just enjoying the music that was blasting loudly and how everyone was dancing and talking with each other.

“Look at that girl, she's going for it!” Niamh pointed out at me, looking at a girl that was standing in the middle of the room, dancing her ass off. I followed her gaze, seeing how the girl was dancing to the music, not caring about anyone it seemed like. I wish I could be like her. “She’s really good!”

Right as I wanted to respond to Niamh, I saw that Louis had walked in the door she was close to. I rolled my eyes and turned around, looking at the sink. 

“What’re you doing?” Niamh asked me incredulously, looking at me over her shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” I answered her, “He just annoys me.”

She came to stand beside me, searching for my eyes. “How? Last time we talked about him you said he was hot!”

I shrugged my shoulders again, “He’s just annoying.”

“Right.” She answered, turning around again and taking a sip of her drink. “If you want to fuck him just tell me. I could be your wing woman.”

I bumped my hips with hers, and turned around to look at the crowd again, “Never.” 

She laughed, standing up straight and finishing up her drink. “Okay then, just tell me why another time. I just saw Harry come in and you need to talk with him.” 

Immediately I felt my stomach go wild. Shit. My eyes began to search around the room, looking for his head of curls amongst the crowd. I found him talking with a friend of his from his team, who’s name I couldn’t remember. Harry looked extremely attractive tonight. Instead of the usual kit I saw him in, he wore all black. His black vans stood out with the other clothing he wore, black skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Even with such a simple look, he made it seem like he wore a million dollars. As he was talking, his jawline moved with his mouth and it made me just weak in the knees. He was actually so hot, how hadn’t I fully appreciated this man before? 

It seemed like he was asking if his friend wanted a drink, because he leaned into him with his ear, nodded and started walking away towards the kitchen. Oh no, why had I been sitting in the kitchen, so obviously out in the open? He strode confidently towards the drinks, when in mid-walk he saw me sitting there. Niamh also recognised him and saw he was walking over here, so she made up an excuse to leave. “Just need the loo for a moment,” 

I couldn’t answer her, because Harry interrupted my thoughts. He was also smirking at me as he arrived right in front of me, only leaving a few inches in between us. I crossed my arms, looking up at him challengingly. 

“Hey doc,” he greeted, speaking in a raspy voice. He began to smile mischievously, making me wonder what he was going to say, “Or should I say, hero?”

I groaned out loud, hitting him in the chest with one hand, and shaking my head. It made him laugh, making his chest vibrate. I could almost feel the vibrations with how close we were. “Shut up,”

He was still chuckling a bit as if he were still thinking about it. Suddenly he stopped, and looked me right in the eyes. “Really though, that was really hot with how you fought everyone out of your way for me.”

I felt my face go warm and I tried to not to smile too much. “Thank you,” I said, straightening up a bit and raising my chin up at him, “But like hell that I fought everyone away.” 

He gasped, nudging me with his arms “Heyy, you did!” he said with a fake offense, frowning his eyebrows, “You were basically performing CPR on me with the way you acted!”

I laughed, making me lean into him a little bit and hide in his shoulder. When I brought myself back in front of him, I raised my eyebrows at him, “You would like me to give you a mouth to mouth performance, wouldn’t you?” 

My heart skipped a bit when he got all serious and looked me straight in the eye. “I would,” 

Our eye contact was intense, I could feel it in my stomach. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my face. I was almost certain that he could feel my heartbeat against his chest. We weren’t even touching completely, but it was beating so hard that I wouldn’t doubt it. I looked at his green eyes, to his plump and pink lips. They were a nice shape, and I felt the urge to just kiss them. I didn’t though, maybe he did this with every other girl he tried to get in his bed. 

I was proven right when he took my hand, “Come with me,” 

I tried to act confused, furrowing my eyebrows, “Where to?” 

He didn’t respond, just tugged on my hand and began leading the way. People weren’t even looking at us, they were dancing or drinking and talking. And even though I liked doing those things at parties, this thing that I thought Harry was planning to do with me, seemed much more fun. 

He made his way towards the door to go upstairs, avoiding bumping in with people or getting splashed by someone’s drink. Once we were on the way up he let go of my hand so we could walk better. There were only one or two people upstairs, making out with each other or searching for someone. Two doors were open out of the four, and Harry went into a closed one with me. 

He revealed his bedroom to me, which was completely dark apart from the moon that lit up the room a little bit. His room was mostly a dark blue, with a grey colour covering the one wall that wasn’t blue. His bed stood in the middle of the room with two bedside tables next to it. He had a desk and his sports bag that he had used still stood in his room, untouched. He didn’t have a desk, but a dresser was shoved against the wall. Once I did my onceover, I saw Harry standing in front of his bed, looking at me. 

He smiled, and began to walk over to me again, making me back into the door once he reached me completely. He stood closer than he did when we were in the kitchen, his pelvis against mine and his chest leaning against my body. “Hey,” He said again, even raspier this time. 

I looked up at him, examining his face, “Hey.”

He cleared his throat, and hesitated a bit, “Can I kiss you?”

I hesitated, “One thing.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Tell me you don’t fuck girls every week, otherwise I won’t be able to handle this.”

He took a step back, frowning, “Who told you that?”

Looking up at him, I felt myself growing more nervous, “Just hear that about you.”

He looked up at the ceiling, then back at me. “I promise you Mattie. I didn’t bring you here or invite you just to fuck you. I’d happily talk with you all night. You seem fun.”

I smiled, “And,” he continued, “my roommates are the ones who get laid every party. I do have sex yeah, but I promise you, I haven’t had sex since the first week of this semester.”

With the sincerity in his eyes, I believed him, “Okay, you can kiss me now.”

“Only if you want to.”

I looked into his eyes, “I really do.”

With one nod and another reassuring glance he was in the clear and we were done with being slow. He smacked his lips against mine, moving his arms from against the door to my body. Roaming his hand around my hips to my ass as he hungrily kissed me. I kissed him back, recuperating his movements. He squeezed my ass, making me gasp a little bit, giving him access to use his tongue in the kiss as well. I moved my arms from his shoulders to his neck, pushing him closer to me with my fingertips in his hair. Our tongues were wet and desperate, making the kiss hot and heavy. Once he had enough of just making out, he grabbed me by my thighs and lifted me up, turning me around towards the bed. 

I fell backwards onto his soft mattress, with Harry on top of me. My legs were around him in an instant, crossing my feet on his back. I still had my sneakers on and all my clothes, but not for long. Harry’s hand went from my ass to the hem of my shirt. I lifted my back for him, pausing in the kiss, to let him take my top off in one swift movement, leaving me in my bra. I didn’t wear my sexiest bra, but he didn’t seem to mind. His mouth went from the sweet spots on my neck towards my cleavage, leaving wet kisses on my body. He was already working on getting my bra off, pushing the straps off my shoulders. I sat upright for him, making him readjust his position to get closer to me. He was struggling with the clasp, so I unclasped my bra for him and threw it on the ground. He didn’t waste any time cupping my breasts, feeling them and leaning in my neck to leave some more spots, but I wasn’t having it. I pushed him away on his chest, making him stand on the ground again. He looked at me in confusion for a moment, until I stood up and pushed him on the bed. I bent my knees so I could reach his t-shirt, and he got the idea. Moving his arms up to let me take his shirt off, he gladly let me do it. 

His chest was revealed to me, just like mine was to him. This wasn’t enough, though. I crouched on my knees completely so I was level with his belly button, and began to unbutton his jeans. His bulge was evident in the tight material, so when I moved the zipper down I cupped him over his jeans and pants, making him groan in response. 

“Fuck, Mattie.” 

I just smiled at him, moving to tug at his jeans. He got the hint and thrust his hips up, so I could take his jeans off. Once they were off, he was just left in his boxers. I moved a little closer to him, so I was level with his bulge, making me look up at him with wide eyes. “Impressive,” I smirked. 

He wasn’t having it, and took his boxers off immediately, revealing his dick to me that sprung to his stomach. He must be proper into it, because I had never had a man be this turned on from just kissing. He threw his boxers onto the pile we had already made, and leaned on his arms so he could look at me properly. I took him in my hands, gliding my thumb over his tip. I looked at him for his consent, and he nodded at me eagerly. That was all I needed before I licked him on the tip. He responded loudly, groaning and moaning through the room. I never knew he was so loud in the bedroom. 

I licked him from his balls to the tip, and let him slip in my mouth to take all of him. He moved his hand in my hair, not pushing me, but finally having something he could do with his hands. 

I started bobbing my head up and down, all the while looking at him how he responded to me. His eyes were closed and his pink lips were voluminous and opened just slightly. 

I enjoyed giving blowjobs, especially if it was someone as responsive as Harry. He was groaning and moaning for me, letting me know how much he enjoyed it. “A-ah,” He cried once I hit him in the back of my throat. “Fuck,”

Kissing his tip, feeling his balls and sliding my tongue over his dick was making me wet as well. He still had one hand in my hair, the other going from my arms that were drawn over his upper thighs. My naked boobs rested on his naked legs, and my still clothed butt was stuck in the air. 

He slid his hand over my arm and went to my back, leaning over my head that was still bobbing over his cock. Once he could reach the hem of my skirt, he started moving the zipper. At least, trying to. 

I stopped sucking him off and let my mouth pop when his dick was out of my mouth, making him moan in annoyance. I quickly took my skirt and panties off and went back on my knees in front of him, when he was the one that stopped me this time. He grabbed my arms and basically threw me on the bed, covering my body immediately. Fuck, he was good. 

He started kissing me again, while I searched for his dick and began giving him a handjob. He cupped my breasts and squeezed them. I started leading his dick towards my entrance, giving him a hint of what I wanted. He backed away to look at me with wide eyes, paused for a bit and went to his dresser to get a condom. I watched him as he slid it on, and grabbed his shoulders as he started to position himself in front of me. Before he did, he looked at me once more. I nodded in approval, and he slid himself in me slowly. I could feel him filling me up immediately, making me throw my head back in bliss. “Fuck, Harry..”

“You like my dick, don’t you?” He said as he began thrusting into me. 

I could only nod in response, gasping as he looked at me, “Tell me,” he said as he thrusted into me hard once, “Tell me how you feel.”

His trust were getting harder with each second I wasn’t responding, because I could only moan in pleasure, “Fuck Harry,” I moaned, “I feel so good..”

He reacted with his hips. Thrusting into me rapidly, making my breasts go up and down and the bed creak against the wall. “I know, baby, I know.” 

“Holy shit, I do.” 

He started to kiss my neck, hungrily going for it as my legs crossed at his back once again. I was certain that the guests that were still here could hear us, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to everyone to know that he was fucking me, and not some other girl. 

“You’re so good baby, I knew it,” 

I started to roam his back with my arms, feeling his muscles move each time he thrusted. His dick was so long and hard that he hit the right spots inside of me each time. I could feel my head getting a little lighter, and my stomach filled with warmth. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, please,”

“Begging for it, see?” He cockily stated once he moved to look at me again, he even had a smirk on his face when he was fucking me. “Knew you would do me good,”

“Mhh, Harry, almost there,” 

“Me too, baby, me too.” 

He thrusted a couple more times before I could really feel it, my pleasure taking over me completely. I came hard, my legs trembling around him and my head thrown back. My orgasm made me cry out loud, and he was still going at it. 

He was coming too, I knew it. His thrust became harder before they slowed down, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. He groaned loudly when he came, looking beautiful while he did. His cheeks had gone slightly pink, making his lips stand out even more, and his hair was all dishevelled and damp with sweat. Once I felt that he filled the condom inside of me, he opened up his eyes and slid out of me. 

We both smiled at each other and started catching our breaths from out intensive activities, “Fuck, Mattie.” He laughed, pulling out of me completely and leaned on his arms to stand up. Once he cleaned up the condom, throwing it in the bin, he started walking back to the bed. He plopped on it, almost on top of me. “That was good.” 

I nodded in response, “Almost as good as Louis’ goals.” I smirked, hoping to get a reaction out of him with bullshit. 

He laughed, letting his head fall on the pillow, “Shut up.”

There we lay, both naked over the covers with our chest moving as we breathed, still hearing the thumping music from downstairs where the party was still going in full swing. 

“I told you,” He started, looking at me playfully, “I would get you wet later.” 

I groaned, but couldn’t help to let a laugh escape. I grabbed my pillow from underneath my head, saw how he was smiling to himself, and smacked him in the head with it. 

Payback, my arse.

I felt it from the moment I had walked on the field with the others. 

Someone was staring at me. Or everyone was. I didn’t look behind me to see if it was true, but I could feel their eyes staring straight at my ass. They asked me to wear athletic clothing for this, so I just chose the first thing in my dresser that I saw, picking out some black yoga pants. The material clung to my butt and I regretted I had put them on the moment I had arrived here. My oversized sweater I chose to wear over it luckily covered my upper half, a decision I did appreciate I made now.

Walking onto the sports centre was nerve-wracking in itself. I liked sports, I liked watching it, but having the possibility of someone else watching you do something was disturbing. I couldn’t find the way I was supposed to go. I didn’t bring my hair tie so I was forced to keep my hair floating around my face and this place was huge. There were several buildings and a squala of fields for specific sports. Indoors, outdoors, you name it. The college was probably sponsored by some wealthy upper class fathers who wanted their sons to be on the radar for new opportunities.

Luckily, I was led right to the canteen which was easily locatable since it had a terrace. A terrace! Lord, I feel like I should’ve worn other clothing for this. 

I approached a team player who had blond hair, feeling the nerves floating around in my stomach, “Uhh… Hi.” 

The boy who was filling up his water bottle turned around, raising his eyebrows, “Hi there.” 

Shit, he was nice. I inhaled, “I was looking for uhh, the football team…” He gave me the same look, “I was asked to help.., or I need to help with their inju-”

“Ahh!” He exclaimed, disregarding his bottle and he turned to fully face me, “You’re the one!”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I guess I am?”

“My name’s Niall.” He held out his hand, “I’m the star player of the time you’ve been assigned to!” 

I shook his hand, smiling a little. “Hi,” We still held hands, “Do you know where I’m supposed to go?” 

Still holding my hand, he began shaking it up and down. “I’m glad we finally have someone.”

“You are?”

“Yeh, we desperately need new people to liven things up a little.” 

I pried my hands from his grip, which wasn’t that strong. But I was already sweating, I didn’t need more reasons to be nervous. “Alright, that sounds good.” 

The pregnant pause that followed made him inhale and pack his bottle in his bag, “You are probably wanted by the football field, which is right there.” 

He pointed out somewhere behind me, making me turn my head. I already saw some players dribbling with the ball, so that was easily recognisable. “Go to the coach, he’s the tallest and biggest one. Has a loud voice too, probably won’t miss him.” He grinned, making me smile up at him. 

“I’ll meet you there in a second, we’re starting in like two minutes.” 

I nodded, “Alright, thanks…”

“Niall.” He answered for me, giving me a wink. “But you can call me anytime.” 

I rolled my eyes at his remark, but by the look on his face and the laugh that followed his statement, I knew it was to lighten my mood and assure me. 

I walked towards the field with a small smile on my face and with a lot less nerves. The players were now assembling and putting their heads together so I walked towards the dug-out and waited for them. There weren’t a lot of spectators or bystanders standing around the field, since it was a friendly game. I inhaled again. This should be fine. I recognized some of the players. They were all from the same college after all. Why did I sign up for this? I’m such an idiot.

When the team was done with sharing strategy and doing their, what appeared to be a yell, the trainer walked towards me. I was nervous when he approached me, he towered over everyone. 

“Hi Mattie,” he said, “You ready?”

I stood there, with my own little bag of supplies in my hand. I nodded. Luckily he spoke to me when I got drafted for this, so I already knew him. What if it was someone else who ended up being the coach? Since our conversation was very brief, you’re a nurse, I’m in need of a carer for the team, the deal was easily made. I didn’t know exactly what to take with me for this, but it was a college football team anyways, so nothing was really high-class. I had put some aspirin, plasters, scissors, antiseptic wipes, bandages and tweezers in my supply bag. That should be enough for a college team right? Surely they wouldn’t crash and fall every single game. He saw me fiddling with the bag, and smiled at me, “Good luck.” 

I nodded at him in gratitude and looked around the field. Gosh, couldn’t I talk? I was punching myself in my head. The trainer, whose name I seemed to have forgotten the second after the interview, sat down on his seat. 

Right now, all the players on the field were starting to go to their positions, other members of staff, the referee, seconds officials and the trainers and staff of the opposing team, all seemed ready to go. It wasn't hot or cold, but the slight breeze that blew over the field chilled me just slightly, making the tip of my nose go red. My job was already halfway done, which is just waiting for something to happen and providing the supplies they needed. If something did happen, I was the chosen person to help the players and fix their injuries. I didn't expect that these games would be very intense anyways. The players often knew each other since the teams were always against other colleges. Today it was just a practise match to start off the season, so I should be fine. 

The minute everyone started and the whistle blew, I wondered where Niall even was. Wasn’t he one of the players? As everyone was running and shouting on the field, I felt like he fit right in. I let my eyes wander. I didn’t know that much about football. I rarely watched the Champions League, I could just about name all the rules. The players, however, were something that did interested me. Especially the ones I already knew.

As I was sitting there, everyone seemed to be in the right place and doing exactly what everyone expected of them. The coach shouted an obnoxious loud praise towards his team, making me jump in my seat. The referee whistled at what suggestiably were the right times. No-one seemed to be getting angry at him. They were getting into it already. It'll probably go fine tonight, and my nerves I had bubbling in my stomach would probably be for nothing. At least, I was hoping for that. I watched the players going for the ball intensely, running after it and passing each other the ball. 

Right as the spirits of the team heightened and they almost scored, Niall crept up from behind me. “You didn’t even give me your name.” 

I shrieked, startling even the trainer who was deep into the game, “Jesus, Niall. Don’t scare me like that.” 

He sat down next to me, “Sorry, babe.” 

“My name’s Mattie.” I said, looking at him briefly. He nodded his head, “Like that.” 

I smiled, turning my head towards the field. “Aren’t you playing?”

He pointed towards his knee, that was covered by his track pants, “This annoying thing won’t let me.” 

“Ahh, that’s too bad.” I grimaced. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, “get to sit next to you.” 

I rolled my eyes again. “You’re not getting any.” 

He burst out laughing, “What! How could you resist me?” 

I playfully smiled at him. I was glad he was here to ease my nerves, “Dunno,” I glanced at the field, “quite like the others.” 

“You already know them?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded, “same college.”

Liam was the goalie. He was broad, quick and could move fast so he was the one that suited that job the most. He was also rough, and shouted really loudly which was a benefit when he would have to coach the team from the goal. He scared opponents off easily, grabbing the ball before they could shoot to keep the score at zero. Liam shared a house with Zayn, Louis and Brad, who were also playing tonight. Zayn was a little bit more of an introvert, and I didn’t really speak to him much. He did show he was a good midfielder though. He was quick and could pass the ball to his teammates effortlessly. When he did score though, he wouldn’t hesitate to cheer loudly and scare everyone with his intensity. 

Brad was a little bit older than the rest, but he was great nonetheless. He was very broad in the shoulders and had legs every gym boy would be jealous of. He was the ex-boyfriend of my sister’s, who also attended this college a few years ago. But to me, he still felt more like an older brother than someone who had been in my sister’s life for years. 

Louis was very serious. He was known for only having one thing on his mind, and that was to score goals. He was quick, could dribble fast and made the stronger players against him look back at him in surprise. Others called him Suarez because he was just that good, and his name was close to Luiz’, which made it easier for his teammates to choose a name. He was actually the only one, alongside Harry, to maybe get upgraded to a higher team. From what I heard of some girls on campus, was that he was a bit snarky. He had some quick-witted comebacks, and he didn’t care if he would hurt your feelings.

The house right next to their one, was filled with other boys from the team. This one was occupied with Josh, Ben and Harry. They had been friends since they were around sixteen, and now had the best bond you could have as college brothers. The three boys were always seen with each other, going out together and even doing groceries together. It wouldn’t surprise me if they also fucked the same girls. 

I actually didn’t know them that well, they were just known around campus. That house was classed as the party house and had a reputation of being used to shag a new girl every week. Don’t get me wrong, they were also good at their sport, but the girls they pulled mostly went for their looks rather than for their skills. 

It wasn’t a surprise that two of the boys that I knew, Louis and Harry, played as strikers, in the centre forward position. Harry was the only one that I had never actually spoken to before but knew from the parties. He was in the team because he was good, but also because he could easily show off to the ladies that way. He was popular amongst the college, mainly because he offered up his house to all the party-goers that wanted to celebrate a win that he created. No-one complained about that, seeing as he was gifted with the most attractive face on the campus. He could dribble the ball, yes, and he had the skill of a young Neymar when it came to approaching the goal. But with those eyes and smile with dimples, and his full head of curls that were covered in a backwards snap-back most of the time, I couldn’t help but check him out instead of his moves on the field. He was the captain of the team, living up to his name. He was also a leader of the group outside of football, which made all the girls like him even more.

“Ahh,” Niall exhaled, “shame I don’t know you.” 

This time, I shoved him, making him laugh. He was already a pain in my arse. “Fuck off.”

The boys were playing for around fifteen minutes now, without something happening that would probably make me do some work. The coach was getting into it, standing up every so often and giving the players some tips. He had really created a team, I felt like. You could feel the bond and fondness between them. When a player fell down, another player helped him up and patted him to ask if he was okay. When it almost went wrong and the opposing team had a shot at the goal, everyone from the team would shout positives to each other. It felt like a real team. This team wasn’t only together while playing, though. I had seen them all at parties together and they also liked to play outside of the games they already had. 

I was really into it the first fifteen minutes, but now I was growing kind of bored. Sure, watching boys play was fun, but with no work or particular action, it was kind of boring. Especially since it was a friendly match. The one form of entertainment I got, however, was Niall, who was really into the game.

“Fuck’s sake, Leon! You’re a defender! You should play in the back!” He shouted profanities to his team mates, cheering them on. 

When Niall saw that Leon didn’t comply, he nudged another player next to him and said something in his ear with a scowl on his face. It made me grin lightly in my seat, him being so serious. I liked watching them already. 

“Come on!” He yelled again, standing up in his seat, “Run Louis! Go after…” 

I was looking at Niall with a smile on my face. I also saw how his face turned into a grimace and his hands went to cover his mouth. “Oooh,” 

I looked at the field, panicked. Niall nudged me, tapping his hands on my arm. I saw that Louis had fallen to the ground, his arms holding his leg up now, groaning in pain. It was probably his ankle. I didn’t know what to do at first, shocked that something had actually happened. I looked at Niall, who was already looking at me, nudging his head towards the field. “Go!”

I jumped from my seat, wanting to run straight to the victim. I saw the referee signing for me, which made me run onto the field even more desperately. After a couple of seconds of running, I realised I had forgotten my bag. Fuck. Seriously? Groaning to myself in embarrassment, I quickly grabbed my supplies and ran a little quicker to the boy who was lying on the field in pain. 

“Hey,” I said as I approached him, a little out of breath from running so quickly. 

He didn’t look at me, just kept touching his ankle. It made me frown, it was probably really bad. He was crying out in pain, and some teammates and opponents had gathered around him to see what happened. In the meantime I had wet the sponge in the bag that the coach had brought with him, stretching Louis’ leg. He didn’t really want to, resisting to want to move it. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.” 

As I was wetting his ankle to cool it down over his shoes, I tried to look if it was bruised or if it had swollen up. None so far that I could see, so that was a good sign. I stretched his leg a bit to keep it moving, but with his socks on, I couldn’t see if there were any wounds or cuts. I tried to sit him upright, but he wasn’t having it. “Calm down,” He hissed, still holding his ankle. He sat upright now, finally looking who was taking care of him. When he saw it was me, he raised his eyebrows. 

“What’re ye doing here?”

I looked at him in shock, already not wanting to help him anymore. So much for running hurriedly over to him. I tried to not react to his degrading question, although it was hard. I continued to check out his foot, trying to place it straight down on the field. He placed his other food next to the injured one, and leaned on his knees with his elbows. The trainer gave Louis a bottle with water, which he gladly took. He took a large gulp, sitting there for a while. Was I overreacting or something? He seemed to be in a lot of pain, why was he now so calm and chilling?

I started grabbing my things, giving Louis one last look to see if he was okay. He seemed to be fine, being helped up by another team mate and testing to stand on it. 

I couldn’t believe this, he was groaning about his ankle no less than one minute ago! What an idiot. Letting me come all the way over here for nothing. As I was walking away frowned my eyebrows in confusion. If it was going to be like this the whole time, I was gone. Not gonna happen. I was here for a reason and the team mates should take that seriously. 

I looked back one last time to Louis who was now laughing with Brad, which resulted in me bumping into someone. His back was hard. He had drawn his head back so he could fill his mouth with water, causing me to also run into the back of this someone’s arms. 

“Fuck, sorry.” I exclaimed, “I shouldn’t..”

When he turned his head around and I saw who it was, I immediately shut my mouth and stared at him. I was frozen into my place for a moment, not knowing what to say. He turned around completely, a dimple showing on his face. I blushed. He was even more attractive up close.

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” He didn’t look angry or anything at all, he actually smiled, which made me feel a little bit better. I wanted to keep on walking to let me soak in my distress towards the situation that just occured, when Louis spoke up again from behind us, “So who’s the pretty girl who wears tight ass clothes to her job?” 

I heard him laugh quietly at his own remark, and he said it loud enough to let his mates in on it too. Instead of just ignoring him and walking on, I decided to turn around and shout after him, 

“Someone who can actually pull it off.”

His team mates ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at my quick remark. I sighed. Harry was still looking at me. I saw his face turn into a frown, silently apologizing to me with his gaze. I shrugged at him. My comeback towards Louis made me feel good again. He’s the idiot.

When I turned around again, and actually began walking, I smiled quietly to myself, forgetting the situation. This was going to be an interesting job.

--

The whistle blew, announcing the end of the game. For a practice match, the game went surprisingly well. There weren't any more instances or fake ankle injuries, what I was glad about. Harry had scored the one and only goal, which made the team go home with a win. Even though the game was for practice, they were pretty happy about it.

"Okay boys! Bundle up," the coach announced as everyone was walking off the field. I was still standing by the dug-out, not really knowing if I had to say goodbye or when the next game was. I saw everyone rounding around the coach, listening in, just like I did.

"Great game, happy about this one. Leon, next time: please bring your shin pads, so you could actually play and I could see what condition you're in. I have made notes and I will be announcing who's playing this Saturday, before the real game." The team looked around at each other, gauging who played good tonight and who didn't. 

Apparently they used this match as a mock try-out, so the trainer and coach could see who were in shape and who weren't for the first big game on Saturday.

"Before you all go, I would like to introduce you to our new on scene doctor, who will be helping you if there's anything actually wrong." He glared at Louis when he said that last part, making him scowl.

I took a step forward, looking around the group. I saw that everyone was intensely looking at me, so I spoke up quickly, "Hi everyone, my name's Mattie and just like Patrick said, I'll be helping you guys out during the games."

"You'll help me out outside of the game, too?"

I ignored him, saw that Niall was once again encouraging me and disregarding his team mate who shouted that from the group, nodding his head for me to continue. I smiled a bit, and went on, "I'm studying to be a doctor, and I'm currently doing the bachelors for it, so yeah.."

Patrick, the coach, nodded at me and returned to the group, "For now, keep in shape boys and help each other out. I haven't decided anything yet so miracles can happen!"

The team shuffled away quietly, talking to each other. I tapped Patrick on his shoulder, "Sorry, coach, is there some place where I can put my bag so I don't have to bring it with me every time?" 

He nodded, gazing above me to where the boys were walking, "Of course Mattie, just a moment,” He took two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, making me try to cover my ears, “Captain!" he shouted, "Harry come here!" 

I turned around and saw that Harry was saying goodbye to his teammates, as he already heard his couch, before jogging over to us. He nodded at me, looking me up and down and placed his arms in his sides as a greeting and turned to Patrick, "What's up coach?" 

Patrick cleared his throat and looked at me, "Mattie here would like to put her bag in the dressing room so she won't have to take it with her," he started grabbing his keys from his pocket, "you can show her, yes?" 

Harry nodded, taking the keys from him. "No worries coach, I'll help her." 

The coach patted Harry in his shoulder, "Thank you, bring the keys to my office tomorrow. And work on your left foot!" 

Niall was waving goodbyes at me, so I quickly waved back, “Bye!” and turned towards Harry. 

With the team and Niall gone, it was just Harry and I. It was still dark, with only the lights from the field still on. Harry jiggled the keys in front of us, and winked at me, "I'll show ya," 

It wasn't that I was nervous or anything, but I hesitated for two seconds before strolling behind him. He was so cocky, with his kit still on and smirking all the time. I couldn't help but watch him while he was playing. He had a certain glow around him, an aura that just radiated confidence. He could probably pull everything off and he certainly could wrap everyone around his finger. 

"So you enjoyed the game, doc?" 

I cringed at the nickname, but decided to let it go this time, "I enjoyed watching it yeah," 

Nodding, he faced me, "You liked my goal?" 

He said it with a smirk and as if he knew I was watching him the whole time, which was true, but he didn't need to know that. 

"Actually, I really liked how Leon could outrun everyone on the field.." 

He stopped abruptly and turned around, in the middle of the path. Once he was fully in front of me, he leaned in, “I saw you watching me, you know.”

Because he stopped suddenly and leaned in immediately, I accidently took a step too much, almost bumping into him again. “Maybe I was watching Louis.”

He laughed, showing me his dimple as he looked to the side. “I know you weren’t, that douchebag really doesn’t know how to play it.”

I nodded my head, and rolled my eyes as if he was stating the obvious. “That’s right.” 

I began walking again, not really knowing where to, but at least in the same direction we were already going. Harry followed me soon after, jumping into step with me. I already saw the building coming closer, which made me think of something. “Why aren’t you all showering in the dressing room after a game?”

He bumped his shoulder with mine, which made me notice the height difference we had. He was a lot taller than me, my eyes looking straight at his collarbones when I turned to look at him. 

I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows in question. 

“You would like to see that, huh?” He stated, smiling shyly at me.

I groaned, “Harryy..”

“Already moaning my name, I see.” 

This time it was me that bumped my shoulder with him, making him laugh in response. “I was just joking, love.” 

When we fell into step once more, he looked ahead and started explaining my question to me, “No we’re not there because it was a practise game and obviously we want to go home fast so we can go to the party later, so we just decided to shower at home.”

I nodded my head, kneading my eyebrows in confusion. There was a party tonight? I haven’t heard anything about that. I quite liked going to parties. Normally my friend Niamh made sure we could get invites so we could go together, but not tonight apparently. It was a Wednesday after all, so maybe she just wanted to stay in tonight. “A party?” I asked Harry. 

He nodded, “Yeah it’s like a frat party only, I would have gotten you an invite but I didn’t really know you before this, soo..”

I laughed, grinning to myself. Harry was really nice. At least, nothing like I had pictured him to be in my head. I didn’t like to judge people before I knew them, but with Harry that was kind of inevitable. Also, I couldn’t exactly invite myself now since he said he didn’t know me but I already knew him. I was not going to make a fool of myself, obviously. So I just shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it.”

We had reached the building where the shower rooms were. We walked quite slow, and it was already quite late so it was kind of eerie here. No lights, the doors were all left open and there were no people to be seen. 

“So these are our shower rooms,” Harry started as we walked into the building after he unlocked it, “We normally take the first one, so you can just put your stuff in there.”

The dressing room was big and spacious. Everyone had a seat, there was a whiteboard in there and the showers were in a separate room. The closet that stood against the wall next to the showers, held all the equipment. “There,” Harry said, as he took my bag and placed my stuff in, “A special place for you.”

As he placed my stuff in the closet, I could finally see how he’d looked up close. He still had his short sleeved football shirt on, revealing his tattoos on his arms. For a guy that was still in college, he sure had a lot of them. Not that I minded. 

“Thank you Harry,” I smiled at him, at which he winked in return when he faced me again. Gosh, I could almost feel myself getting red. I was acting like a schoolgirl, I needed to step up my game. “I’ll remember this place,” I said, as I looked at the showers. I could almost imagine all the naked boys right here. 

I smirked, glancing at the shower himself, “I’m sure you will.”

After making sure everything was locked and closed, we started to walk back to the parking lot.  I was sure Harry was also with his car, considering campus was at least a twenty minute walk. Right as we reached our cars and I wanted to say goodbye, he faced me again and leaned on his already open door, “You know what, Mattie?”

I looked up from the inside of my car towards him, giving him a questioning look. “What?”

“You free Saturday?”

He said it so casually that I wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t asking me out on a date was he? I mean, I was attracted to the guy but I barely knew him! And it wasn’t like I wanted to go out with him, really. But I did want to see him. With hesitation evident in my voice, I answered him, “Yeah, why?”

He saw my facial expression and laughed a bit, “To take you up on my offer. We’re having a party again at our house, so if you’d like to come?”

I almost sighed in relief, “Yeah, I’d like that, thank you Harry.” 

He shot a quick wink at me as he started to climb in his car, “No worries!” As a last afterthought, right as I wanted to shut my door, I heard him shout, “And bring your friends!”

--

My friend Niamh was present at the game this time, too. We were here a little early, so we could catch up on our week and talk about everything that had happened to us. She was a friend from years ago, almost from when we were kids, so she knew everything about me. Unfortunately, she didn’t want to be a doctor and had chosen to go pursue her dancing career. She was really good at it, too. She was asked to dance in videoclips and she often performed on stage with singers or bands. It was her job now, one she always wanted. It made me proud of her, because she actually went for it, and ignored her parent’s complaints about it. She had proved them and their comments about how she was never going to make it, wrong. 

We sat in the canteen, which was still fairly quiet. The game would start at two, and it was now one thirty. I had only been to a professional game once, and then I arrived at two on the dot and I didn’t even look if there were many people there. The only time I’d been here was when I met up with the trainer to see if this was the right place for me to take my extra credits. I could choose to work in an elderly home, or at the swimming pool, but I had decided that this would be more fun for me. I didn’t mind watching 22 boys running after a ball for two hours back to back, particularly. 

Niamh had ordered a coffee whereas I preferred cold drinks over hot drinks, so I just stuck with some soda. “So how has your week been, Matts?” She said as she took a sip of her drink. 

I smiled at her, excited to tell her she would be having something to do tonight, “Actually, I need to invite you to something.”

Her eyebrows perked up, and she placed the drink on the table, “To where?”

I grinned, “Harry Styles asked me if I wanted to come to this party at his house tonight, and said I could bring some friends.” 

“No way!” She exclaimed gasping, “Harry Styles from the team?” 

I nodded happily back at her, “That’s the one.”

She already started to grab her phone, so she could text our friends, I presumed. “When did he ask you this? I didn’t even know you talked to him!”

After I placed my drink down from taking a sip of it myself, I shrugged casually at her. “Well, I had to help at that game you know,” I said as she nodded at me, “And right after he had to show me where I could put my stuff and started talking about this party he had this Wednesday----”

“Oh yes!” She interrupted me with wide eyes, “So that’s the party Emily talked about! She said she had fucked the captain of the team, and that he was quite good. That’s Harry right?” 

I paused, opening my mouth in surprise. “What? Yeah he is the captain.” 

“That’s so sick! I have to text Emily about this party tonight then,” She said, grinning excitedly at me and putting her phone down to look at me again. “Anyway, go on, I’m listening.”

I coughed, choosing to ignore this disappointing bit of information, “Yeah so he told me about that party and that he couldn’t invite me then, which is a bit weird if I think about it now, but anyways, he invited me for tonight and said I could bring some friends.” I forced a smile on my face as I finished my story and looked at her. 

She copied my smile, “That’s great! Maybe I can finally meet Niall and get to know him better, if you know what I mean,” She said as she wiggled her eyebrows. 

I laughed, genuinely excited for her. “I hope you will!” 

After I had finished my drink, I announced to Niamh that I had to leave if I wanted to be at the dug-outs on time. She wished me well, and said that she would see me tonight. After I hugged her and said goodbye to her and the bartender who had served us, I walked out of the canteen towards the shower rooms. 

I needed to grab my bag if I wanted to be helping players today. Today they had to play against a popular college not far away from where we’re from, so it was kind of exciting to be able to see that. The coach had probably announced who would be playing and who wouldn’t for today, which made the pressure on the players to play well a tad bit higher. I knew that obviously Harry and Louis would be playing, along with our goalie Liam, but the rest of the team was still unsure. For me it would be kind of fun if Niall was still benched, just for entertainment, but he would rather be on the field, I’m sure. Hopefully his knee was doing better.

I had reached the shower rooms and discovered that the door was still open, allowing me to walk right in the building. I knew Harry said it was the first one when we dropped my bag off, so without hesitation I whipped open the door. Right as I did that, I heard commotion and deep yelling from from the inside, causing me to rapidly close the door again. Shit. How the fuck was I supposed to know they were still here, they were just warming up outside!

Bowing my head in embarrassment, I quickly walked out of the building. I would just grab my bag when they were out so I didn’t have to walk in with all of them staring at me. I waited outside, leaning against the wall and just staring ahead at the field they would be playing on. They were taking their sweet time. Probably just discussing the match quickly just before the game started, but to me it felt like ages.  

The other team was walking towards the field in a pack, and the referee started to walk towards this building, probably to let our team know the game was about to start. I actually felt nerves bubbling in my stomach, with everything being so serious in comparison to the last game. There were a lot of supporters walking towards the bleachers, too. 

I was just staring at the field again when the door opened and everyone on the team started to walk out. First it was the coach and trainer, who nodded in greeting. The coach was needed here too, apparently. I saw that Niall walked in the front with his jacket still on, so that meant he was benched again. When he walked by me, he ruffled my hair. “Hey Matts!” 

“Hey!” I shouted after him, “I’m here to help you, you know!”

He turned around and laughed loudly, pointing at his knee, “Not me!’

At that, I didn’t have anything back to say knowing he was benched again, so I just shook my head. 

“Is he messing with you?” 

I heard Harry’s voice before I saw him, making me look up towards him. He was walking at the back of the team’s row to get out of the building with a smile on his face, standing out from everyone else walking before him.  

When he reached me, he stopped and raised his eyebrows, awaiting my answer. “No it’s just Niall,” I told him, shrugging my shoulders indifferently. 

“Right,” He smirked, “Well, I figured ‘t was you that tried to come in during our important speech, so I decided to grab your bag for you.” 

My heart swelled just a little bit at his kind gesture, having not expected this at all from him. Shit, you should never listen to rumours, huh? He proved once again that he could actually be kind.

“Wow, Harry! Thank you so much. That’s so kind of you to do that!” I grabbed the bag from him and in a split second decided I wanted to hug him. I threw myself in his arms, catching him off guard for a second. My bag that I now carried in my hand whipped him in his back, causing him to groan in my shoulder. Hugging me back, he draped his arms slowly around me, positioning them right above my ass. 

When I loosened my arms around him, I nodded my head towards the field, “You should probably go,”

He nodded in confirmation, still standing in close proximity to me. “I do.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder blades, and wished him luck for the game, “Break a leg Harry, or don’t actually.”

He laughed at my comment, showing me his dimples. Before he walked away towards the field, he winked at me, “I’ll try not to.”

When I saw him run on the field and give his teammates one last cheer for good luck, I smirked to myself watching him. It was a good choice to wear my tight yoga pants again, at least. 

--

The game was very intense. Not like practise-match intense, but full on competition match intense. Louis luckily hadn’t faked any injuries yet, so that was a good sign. However, I had to run on the field in the first half for Liam, who had taken a good shot right in his eye. He fell to the ground, making me run on the field for him. When I got there, he was already sitting up and not at all groaning in pain like Louis had, making me smile a bit. At least Liam could handle something. I also discovered his injury wasn’t fake, because I could see a bruise forming immediately. I cooled it a little, but told him it would be better if he took some rest. He said that he’d be fine and would just tell me and the coach if he wanted to switch between the other goalkeeper and him. I was still a bit concerned, but he insisted. So I walked back with my supplies and some worries, hoping that it was really just a shot with the ball, and it wouldn’t turn out to be something worse. 

The score was 2-1 for our team, with just ten minutes to go when I came back from grabbing some more water. It was so tense, all the players were proper going for it. The bleachers were filled with supporters, all reacting to the match as if their life depended on it. When the opponents came near our goal, they would stand up and shout at our defenders. And when our team was striking and near the opponents goal, they would yell and scream for us to score. I was nervous too. I was on the edge of my seat, hoping that the score would stay the same. I was fiddling with the hem of my shirt to stop myself from standing up and screaming towards the players. 

We did have a good few people that came out to support us, yes. But our biggest supporter sat on the bench. He was biting his nails, screaming in frustration and cursing loudly whenever we missed a goal. 

“Fuck! Who in their goddamn mind would even pass like that!”, or “Holy shit! That was fucking close!” and my favourite: “Son of a… get that fucking ball in the goal you arseholes!”

Least to say, I was entertained for the match.  

Currently we had the ball on our side, passing each other the ball and walking forwards towards the goal. Once we had crossed the midfielders of the opponents, Zayn passed the ball towards Brad who then passed it on to Ben. Ben had a good shot, and could easily get the ball miles away. So when Louis sprinted towards the goal, Ben saw an opportunity to pass the ball onto him. He put the ball in front of him and shot the ball, right into Louis’ feet. I could see that Louis was looking for someone to help him out, because there were two defenders near the goal and he couldn’t pass them himself. Luckily Harry had seen it, and sprinted with him on the other side. He made sure he ran close to the goal but not to close, so he had the space to shoot the ball right in if he got it. He shouted for Louis to pass the ball onto him, and Louis immediately did. The ball was flying over the defenders, in a straight line towards Harry. Harry prepared for it, taking his foot back so he could place it right on it. He jumped, the ball almost near him, and kicked the ball--- 

Right before he could kick it, a defender sprung onto him making Harry fall right to the ground. “Nooooo!” Niall yelled loudly from beside me, “For fuck’s sake no!”

I heard everyone gasp from the audience, immediately voicing their worries from behind me. I panicked for a second, freezing in my spot. Shit! Harry just fell to the ground. He was laying there, in pain. I heard the coach shout my name, making me snap back to reality. Immediately I grabbed my bag, and ran towards him in a hurry. Shiiit. Why Harry? Others had gathered around him, so I couldn’t see how Harry was doing. Right as I arrived near him, I shouted for them to walk away. 

“Everyone! Leave!” 

My voice must have sounded really angry or intimidating, because everyone hurried away quickly. This way, I could finally see Harry. He was laying on the ground, on his back. He had his hands on his forehead, making me think there was something wrong with his head. Hopefully he didn’t have a concussion or something. The defender that had pushed him to the ground, was still looking at Harry. He was probably worried about what he’d done, but I didn’t care. 

“What are you doing? Leave!” 

He started saying that he was sorry, and that he could help, but I wasn’t having it. “I don’t care, leave before I force you.” 

He nodded, worry evident on his face. For a second I felt bad, but then I saw that Harry was still laying here, and then those thoughts escaped my mind right away. The defender walked away eventually, leaving me alone with Harry. I looked at him, seeing how he had one hand over his head, feeling for bruising. The moment I sat down next to him, he turned his head towards me. He opened his eyes, and smiled.

“Am I dreaming?” 

Relief washed over me immediately. At least he could still make jokes. I began sitting next to his head, wetting my sponge once again and placing it over his head. “You okay, Harry?” 

He nodded, his head in front of my knees on the ground. I looked at him from above, so that I could see how his body reacted when I would do certain things to see if he was okay. Right now I had my hands on his forehead with the sponge in between, “I’m fine actually, Mattie. I just wanted you to come save me.”

I rolled my eyes, not believing him. “No you didn’t.” 

He laughed, causing his chest to go up and down, “I did,” He smirked, his eyes shining as he looked at me. 

I shook my head in disbelief, staring at him smiling at me for a second. But then I remembered I could take revenge. He saw that I was wetting the sponge again, and began to sit up straight. “No you won’t!’

I began splashing him with water in revenge, making him soaking wet. I was laughing my ass off, seeing him so flustered and shocked at what I was doing. “Mattie! Shit, stop!”

I was aware that the rest of the team and the coach were still watching us, so I stopped splashing him, throwing the sponge in the water bag. I took a step towards his soaked body, pressing my lips together and looking him in the eye mischievously. “Next time you’ll play a joke on me like that, I’ll take you to the hospital so you’ll have to sit next to Niall for a month.”

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “Noted, doc, noted.” 

As I walked away smiling and the referee began gathering everyone together again, I heard him shout one more thing after me, “I’ll pay you back tonight Mattie! Watch out!”

I just shot my middle finger in the air, hearing him bark out another laugh in response. 

--

The party was in full swing when Niamh, Emily, Joey and I arrived. It was in Harry’s and his roommates’ house, one that I had never been in before, let alone seen how packed it could be. Everyone that was just a little bit known around campus, was there. I recognized some people from my class, and others I knew because they were popular around campus. 

When we arrived, the door was unlocked and you could just walk right in. That wasn’t unusual with the parties I went to, if we ever went to house parties. There was a pile of jackets formed, so we just threw ours over it. Joey and Emily claimed they knew some people and went off to speak to them, leaving me and Niamh alone at the party. 

“Let’s have a drink,” Niamh said to me over the loud music, “We need to get drunk to process this!”

I nodded in agreement, already taking her arm towards the kitchen. It was already quite busy, but we had come a little late. We didn’t want to be the first ones to arrive, as we didn’t know a lot of people here. All the drinks were placed on a table, leaving us with a lot of choice of what we wanted to drink tonight. I hadn’t realised before this that these college boys actually spend a lot of time planning these things. They had a lot to think about. And to be fair, they had done a good job at it.

We had appropriately dressed ourselves, luckily. Since we didn’t really know what to expect, we just went for black: Niamh wearing a tight dress with spaghetti straps and me wearing a skirt with a t-shirt. It was something you could never go wrong with.

I poured myself some alcohol, waiting for Niamh to do the same. Once we both had our drinks, we leaned against the table and started looking at people. This was our favourite activity to do. You saw some crazy people at parties, so we had a lot to think about. 

“Oh wow, there’s already people on the edge of drunkenness.” Niamh laughed, raising her eyebrows at a boy who had run straight towards the loo. “Jesus wept.”

“Shit,” I exclaimed, looking at a girl who had just came in with a gift in her hand, “It’s someone’s birthday? Did we need to bring a gift?”

She just shrugged her shoulders at me. “No fucking clue.” And resumed to look around the room. We had been sipping on our drinks lightly, just enjoying the music that was blasting loudly and how everyone was dancing and talking with each other.

“Look at that girl, she's going for it!” Niamh pointed out at me, looking at a girl that was standing in the middle of the room, dancing her ass off. I followed her gaze, seeing how the girl was dancing to the music, not caring about anyone it seemed like. I wish I could be like her. “She’s really good!”

Right as I wanted to respond to Niamh, I saw that Louis had walked in the door she was close to. I rolled my eyes and turned around, looking at the sink. 

“What’re you doing?” Niamh asked me incredulously, looking at me over her shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” I answered her, “He just annoys me.”

She came to stand beside me, searching for my eyes. “How? Last time we talked about him you said he was hot!”

I shrugged my shoulders again, “He’s just annoying.”

“Right.” She answered, turning around again and taking a sip of her drink. “If you want to fuck him just tell me. I could be your wing woman.”

I bumped my hips with hers, and turned around to look at the crowd again, “Never.” 

She laughed, standing up straight and finishing up her drink. “Okay then, just tell me why another time. I just saw Harry come in and you need to talk with him.” 

Immediately I felt my stomach go wild. Shit. My eyes began to search around the room, looking for his head of curls amongst the crowd. I found him talking with a friend of his from his team, who’s name I couldn’t remember. Harry looked extremely attractive tonight. Instead of the usual kit I saw him in, he wore all black. His black vans stood out with the other clothing he wore, black skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Even with such a simple look, he made it seem like he wore a million dollars. As he was talking, his jawline moved with his mouth and it made me just weak in the knees. He was actually so hot, how hadn’t I fully appreciated this man before? 

It seemed like he was asking if his friend wanted a drink, because he leaned into him with his ear, nodded and started walking away towards the kitchen. Oh no, why had I been sitting in the kitchen, so obviously out in the open? He strode confidently towards the drinks, when in mid-walk he saw me sitting there. Niamh also recognised him and saw he was walking over here, so she made up an excuse to leave. “Just need the loo for a moment,” 

I couldn’t answer her, because Harry interrupted my thoughts. He was also smirking at me as he arrived right in front of me, only leaving a few inches in between us. I crossed my arms, looking up at him challengingly. 

“Hey doc,” he greeted, speaking in a raspy voice. He began to smile mischievously, making me wonder what he was going to say, “Or should I say, hero?”

I groaned out loud, hitting him in the chest with one hand, and shaking my head. It made him laugh, making his chest vibrate. I could almost feel the vibrations with how close we were. “Shut up,”

He was still chuckling a bit as if he were still thinking about it. Suddenly he stopped, and looked me right in the eyes. “Really though, that was really hot with how you fought everyone out of your way for me.”

I felt my face go warm and I tried to not to smile too much. “Thank you,” I said, straightening up a bit and raising my chin up at him, “But like hell that I fought everyone away.” 

He gasped, nudging me with his arms “Heyy, you did!” he said with a fake offense, frowning his eyebrows, “You were basically performing CPR on me with the way you acted!”

I laughed, making me lean into him a little bit and hide in his shoulder. When I brought myself back in front of him, I raised my eyebrows at him, “You would like me to give you a mouth to mouth performance, wouldn’t you?” 

My heart skipped a bit when he got all serious and looked me straight in the eye. “I would,” 

Our eye contact was intense, I could feel it in my stomach. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my face. I was almost certain that he could feel my heartbeat against his chest. We weren’t even touching completely, but it was beating so hard that I wouldn’t doubt it. I looked at his green eyes, to his plump and pink lips. They were a nice shape, and I felt the urge to just kiss them. I didn’t though, maybe he did this with every other girl he tried to get in his bed. 

I was proven right when he took my hand, “Come with me,” 

I tried to act confused, furrowing my eyebrows, “Where to?” 

He didn’t respond, just tugged on my hand and began leading the way. People weren’t even looking at us, they were dancing or drinking and talking. And even though I liked doing those things at parties, this thing that I thought Harry was planning to do with me, seemed much more fun. 

He made his way towards the door to go upstairs, avoiding bumping in with people or getting splashed by someone’s drink. Once we were on the way up he let go of my hand so we could walk better. There were only one or two people upstairs, making out with each other or searching for someone. Two doors were open out of the four, and Harry went into a closed one with me. 

He revealed his bedroom to me, which was completely dark apart from the moon that lit up the room a little bit. His room was mostly a dark blue, with a grey colour covering the one wall that wasn’t blue. His bed stood in the middle of the room with two bedside tables next to it. He had a desk and his sports bag that he had used still stood in his room, untouched. He didn’t have a desk, but a dresser was shoved against the wall. Once I did my onceover, I saw Harry standing in front of his bed, looking at me. 

He smiled, and began to walk over to me again, making me back into the door once he reached me completely. He stood closer than he did when we were in the kitchen, his pelvis against mine and his chest leaning against my body. “Hey,” He said again, even raspier this time. 

I looked up at him, examining his face, “Hey.”

He cleared his throat, and hesitated a bit, “Can I kiss you?”

I hesitated, “One thing.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Tell me you don’t fuck girls every week, otherwise I won’t be able to handle this.”

He took a step back, frowning, “Who told you that?”

Looking up at him, I felt myself growing more nervous, “Just hear that about you.”

He looked up at the ceiling, then back at me. “I promise you Mattie. I didn’t bring you here or invite you just to fuck you. I’d happily talk with you all night. You seem fun.”

I smiled, “And,” he continued, “my roommates are the ones who get laid every party. I do have sex yeah, but I promise you, I haven’t had sex since the first week of this semester.”

With the sincerity in his eyes, I believed him, “Okay, you can kiss me now.”

“Only if you want to.”

I looked into his eyes, “I really do.”

With one nod and another reassuring glance he was in the clear and we were done with being slow. He smacked his lips against mine, moving his arms from against the door to my body. Roaming his hand around my hips to my ass as he hungrily kissed me. I kissed him back, recuperating his movements. He squeezed my ass, making me gasp a little bit, giving him access to use his tongue in the kiss as well. I moved my arms from his shoulders to his neck, pushing him closer to me with my fingertips in his hair. Our tongues were wet and desperate, making the kiss hot and heavy. Once he had enough of just making out, he grabbed me by my thighs and lifted me up, turning me around towards the bed. 

I fell backwards onto his soft mattress, with Harry on top of me. My legs were around him in an instant, crossing my feet on his back. I still had my sneakers on and all my clothes, but not for long. Harry’s hand went from my ass to the hem of my shirt. I lifted my back for him, pausing in the kiss, to let him take my top off in one swift movement, leaving me in my bra. I didn’t wear my sexiest bra, but he didn’t seem to mind. His mouth went from the sweet spots on my neck towards my cleavage, leaving wet kisses on my body. He was already working on getting my bra off, pushing the straps off my shoulders. I sat upright for him, making him readjust his position to get closer to me. He was struggling with the clasp, so I unclasped my bra for him and threw it on the ground. He didn’t waste any time cupping my breasts, feeling them and leaning in my neck to leave some more spots, but I wasn’t having it. I pushed him away on his chest, making him stand on the ground again. He looked at me in confusion for a moment, until I stood up and pushed him on the bed. I bent my knees so I could reach his t-shirt, and he got the idea. Moving his arms up to let me take his shirt off, he gladly let me do it. 

His chest was revealed to me, just like mine was to him. This wasn’t enough, though. I crouched on my knees completely so I was level with his belly button, and began to unbutton his jeans. His bulge was evident in the tight material, so when I moved the zipper down I cupped him over his jeans and pants, making him groan in response. 

“Fuck, Mattie.” 

I just smiled at him, moving to tug at his jeans. He got the hint and thrust his hips up, so I could take his jeans off. Once they were off, he was just left in his boxers. I moved a little closer to him, so I was level with his bulge, making me look up at him with wide eyes. “Impressive,” I smirked. 

He wasn’t having it, and took his boxers off immediately, revealing his dick to me that sprung to his stomach. He must be proper into it, because I had never had a man be this turned on from just kissing. He threw his boxers onto the pile we had already made, and leaned on his arms so he could look at me properly. I took him in my hands, gliding my thumb over his tip. I looked at him for his consent, and he nodded at me eagerly. That was all I needed before I licked him on the tip. He responded loudly, groaning and moaning through the room. I never knew he was so loud in the bedroom. 

I licked him from his balls to the tip, and let him slip in my mouth to take all of him. He moved his hand in my hair, not pushing me, but finally having something he could do with his hands. 

I started bobbing my head up and down, all the while looking at him how he responded to me. His eyes were closed and his pink lips were voluminous and opened just slightly. 

I enjoyed giving blowjobs, especially if it was someone as responsive as Harry. He was groaning and moaning for me, letting me know how much he enjoyed it. “A-ah,” He cried once I hit him in the back of my throat. “Fuck,”

Kissing his tip, feeling his balls and sliding my tongue over his dick was making me wet as well. He still had one hand in my hair, the other going from my arms that were drawn over his upper thighs. My naked boobs rested on his naked legs, and my still clothed butt was stuck in the air. 

He slid his hand over my arm and went to my back, leaning over my head that was still bobbing over his cock. Once he could reach the hem of my skirt, he started moving the zipper. At least, trying to. 

I stopped sucking him off and let my mouth pop when his dick was out of my mouth, making him moan in annoyance. I quickly took my skirt and panties off and went back on my knees in front of him, when he was the one that stopped me this time. He grabbed my arms and basically threw me on the bed, covering my body immediately. Fuck, he was good. 

He started kissing me again, while I searched for his dick and began giving him a handjob. He cupped my breasts and squeezed them. I started leading his dick towards my entrance, giving him a hint of what I wanted. He backed away to look at me with wide eyes, paused for a bit and went to his dresser to get a condom. I watched him as he slid it on, and grabbed his shoulders as he started to position himself in front of me. Before he did, he looked at me once more. I nodded in approval, and he slid himself in me slowly. I could feel him filling me up immediately, making me throw my head back in bliss. “Fuck, Harry..”

“You like my dick, don’t you?” He said as he began thrusting into me. 

I could only nod in response, gasping as he looked at me, “Tell me,” he said as he thrusted into me hard once, “Tell me how you feel.”

His trust were getting harder with each second I wasn’t responding, because I could only moan in pleasure, “Fuck Harry,” I moaned, “I feel so good..”

He reacted with his hips. Thrusting into me rapidly, making my breasts go up and down and the bed creak against the wall. “I know, baby, I know.” 

“Holy shit, I do.” 

He started to kiss my neck, hungrily going for it as my legs crossed at his back once again. I was certain that the guests that were still here could hear us, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to everyone to know that he was fucking me, and not some other girl. 

“You’re so good baby, I knew it,” 

I started to roam his back with my arms, feeling his muscles move each time he thrusted. His dick was so long and hard that he hit the right spots inside of me each time. I could feel my head getting a little lighter, and my stomach filled with warmth. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, please,”

“Begging for it, see?” He cockily stated once he moved to look at me again, he even had a smirk on his face when he was fucking me. “Knew you would do me good,”

“Mhh, Harry, almost there,” 

“Me too, baby, me too.” 

He thrusted a couple more times before I could really feel it, my pleasure taking over me completely. I came hard, my legs trembling around him and my head thrown back. My orgasm made me cry out loud, and he was still going at it. 

He was coming too, I knew it. His thrust became harder before they slowed down, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. He groaned loudly when he came, looking beautiful while he did. His cheeks had gone slightly pink, making his lips stand out even more, and his hair was all dishevelled and damp with sweat. Once I felt that he filled the condom inside of me, he opened up his eyes and slid out of me. 

We both smiled at each other and started catching our breaths from out intensive activities, “Fuck, Mattie.” He laughed, pulling out of me completely and leaned on his arms to stand up. Once he cleaned up the condom, throwing it in the bin, he started walking back to the bed. He plopped on it, almost on top of me. “That was good.” 

I nodded in response, “Almost as good as Louis’ goals.” I smirked, hoping to get a reaction out of him with bullshit. 

He laughed, letting his head fall on the pillow, “Shut up.”

There we lay, both naked over the covers with our chest moving as we breathed, still hearing the thumping music from downstairs where the party was still going in full swing. 

“I told you,” He started, looking at me playfully, “I would get you wet later.” 

I groaned, but couldn’t help to let a laugh escape. I grabbed my pillow from underneath my head, saw how he was smiling to himself, and smacked him in the head with it. 

Payback, my arse.

------------------

Thank you for reading!! If you want more, let me know. This was my first real one shot and I’m working on other stuff as well. xxxxxxx

[spxllcxstxr]

Date Night • The Marauders

(Gif not mine)

Request: Maybe like a poly!marauders x (she/her) reader where they just spend a day together :) like you can write smut If you’d like, but yea maybe they can go out to eat id like to see a dynamic in a poly relationship w them. Thank you!! Love your writing <3 — anon

Summary: Date nights are rare, but tonight, you go out for ice cream with your partners

Warnings: Food and eating!! The entire fic is about eating, so please stay safe! If you have a peanut allergy no you don’t. Also, if you’re lactose intolerant like me, uhhhh pretend there’s a potion for that I guess, kinda implied first Wizarding war, smallest hint of steaminess

Word Count: 1.6k

A.N: Remus=Ross, James=Chandler, Sirius=Joey, right? This took me like weeks to finish...but overall I kinda like it. Let me know what you think, and love you all ❤️

****

The four of you very rarely had free time.

Between missions and meetings, you and your partners almost never had time off, and even when you did, one of you would still be busy. One of you would still be undercover or stuck debriefing the latest mission with Mad-Eye for hours.

So it’s weird to find yourself situated on the couch, Sirius’ head resting on your lap and Remus on the other end, stuck with his feet. James shuffles around in the kitchen behind you, stuck with dish duty after almost setting your flat on fire.

Sirius snuggles deeper into your thigh, evidently still exhausted from the previous day’s mission he was tasked with.

The flat is mostly quiet, the only sounds coming from Remus turning the pages of his novel and the ceramic plates clashing together as they get put away. The sun slowly sets outside, basking your living room in glowing orange in light.

You run your fingers through the mess of dark curls splayed out on your lap, always lustrous and soft to the touch. He hums deeply in approval.

A sharp clap from behind jolts you out of your peaceful thoughts.

You crane your neck to watch as James throws on his denim jacket.

“I believe that we,” He starts, eyeing the three of you. “deserve a date night.”

Instantly, a smile grows across your face. The last time the four of you had a proper date night, it was 1979 and Queen had just released a new song, which meant that Sirius needed to celebrate with all of you at the pub getting absolutely pissed.

Since you all joined the Order, all your free time has been sucked down the drain.

So that’s why the mere suggestion of the normally elusive date night makes you feel all giddy inside. You would’ve gotten up from your comfortable position to throw your coat on if it wasn’t for Sirius practically securing you to the cushions.

“But James...” He groans.

“Oh c’mon, Pads, we haven’t been on a proper date since—“

“Last year.” Remus interjects, shutting his book before placing it onto the coffee table. “But then again, you were too drunk for it to actually be considered a date.”

“Don’t blame me, blame Freddie and his Merlin given voice.” Sirius muses, still laying on your thigh. His fingers dance around your kneecap.

Remus slowly eases himself off the couch, joining James by the front door.

“Fine.” You hear James shrug. “We’ll just leave you here to suffer while Remus, (Y/n), and I go out to Florean’s.”

This seems to grab his attention, because he perks up just enough for you to slide out of his grasp.

You end up at Remus’s side, clinging to his grey jumper as you excitedly pull on your shoes.

“Ice cream?” Sirius asks, pushing his hair behind his ears. “Without me?”

“It doesn’t have to be without you, Sirius.” You retort, sandwiched between James and Remus. “If you get your arse over here, we won’t have to leave you.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Sirius huffs, hands raised in mock surrender, dragging himself over to the front door.

He waves his wand, boots zipping out of the closet and slipping onto his feet, his dark leather jacket covering his white shirt on its own.

“What, are simple tasks too hard for you now?” Remus teases, lightly bumping his shoulder into Sirius’.

“We’ve got magic for a reason, Moons.” The shorter of the two rolls his eyes. “Might as well use it.”

Remus opens his mouth to retort but James swiftly interrupts their bickering.

“I swear to Godric Gryffindor himself, (Y/n) and I will leave both you gits here.”

There’s grumbling from the two of them, but it becomes garbled once James throws an arm around you and Apparates you to Diagon Alley.

Your brain feels like it’s spinning in your skull and your stomach tugs familiarly at your naval. Sure you’ve Apparated many many times before, but it’s simply not fun no matter what.

As per usual, Diagon Alley is loud. Children and drunkards laugh, spells and fireworks whizz passed your ears, people in heels trot across the cobblestone path.

It’s places like Diagon Alley that remind you why you love magic so much.

James’ arm is still heavy on your shoulders as you watch people in cloaks and tall hats rush by you.

There’s a startling crack behind you and you and James turn around to see your other partners. Sirius might have a few new purple bruises littered across his collar bones and Remus might have a smug look plastered across his face, but no one says anything. Remus throws the two of you a silent wink as Sirius hangs off of him.

“Gonna hold my hand, Moony?” James questions, his arm outstretched.

Remus eagerly takes it, fingers interlocking.

So the four of you are connected as you stroll down the street. Your face is buried into James’ denim jacket, the faint smell of grass stains and broom oil an already welcomed scent. In the middle, James and Remus have their shoulders rubbing together as they walk, James’ thumb most likely tracing figure eights between his knuckles like he always does. Lastly, it seems like Sirius had changed his position enough to stick a hand in Remus’ back pocket.

The sun continues to dip lower below the horizon, resulting in candles and lanterns being lit in every dark corner. Children are ushered inside homes and adults start to flock towards the pubs.

With the looming threat of dark and dangerous wizards, people aren’t taking their chances, safety in numbers and safety indoors being popular within the village.

Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlor is lit up in a rainbow of colors as always, and the sweet scent of ice cream drifts through the air. People sit in crowds outside the shop, enjoying their treats on the sidewalk or some even spread out on the street.

“So what’re you going for today, Jamie?” You ask as your little group enters the shop.

A little bell sounds from above you, barely heard over the boisterous laughter and rowdy conversations that surround you.

Unlike you, Sirius, and Remus, James doesn’t have a signature flavor. He had to have a different kind every visit. So while Remus had already ordered his strawberries and cream in a waffle cone and Sirius is eyeing his peanut butter ice cream, James is still perusing his options like a little kid.

Your own ice cream starts to melt a bit while you’re waiting.

James squints his eyes at the names, despite his glasses already resting on the bridge of his nose.

“You haven’t done toffee apple in a bit, Prongs.” Sirius points, his finger making contact with the cool glass barrier.

“You’re right.” James hums. “Thanks.” He presses a quick kiss to Sirius’ stubbled cheek before ordering his ice cream.

There’s a small open table across the way, lit up by a few lanterns, which the four of you claim.

There’s a very slight breeze that makes you cuddle up to Remus’ soft jumper.

Desperate to talk about something other than the current state of affairs, James gets caught up talking the Wimbourne Wasps and their new Beater, Ludovic Bagman.

You watch Sirius, tongue poking ever so slightly out of the corner of his mouth, try to sneak a scoop of James’ ice cream while he’s distracted.

Attempting to hide your amusement, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth, feigning interest in the Quidditch talk.

You watch the spoon make an indent and it’s halfway to Sirius’ mouth before—

“Oi!”

The silver spoon freezes abruptly, and grey eyes widen significantly.

“Is that why you suggested toffee apple? So you could nick some of my bloody ice cream?” James gasps dramatically, mouth agape in shock.

“Where’re your manners, James?” Sirius retorts, licking his spoon. “Sharing is caring.”

His hazel eyes narrow. “I don’t know, Black, that looked more like thievery to me.”

“Well let’s take it to our very own Wizengamot, then.” Sirius loudly gestures to you and Remus.

“Well I’m sure that for a wee bit of ice cream, (Y/n) and I, as key witnesses to the whole event, can clear the air.” Remus smirks, biting into his cone.

Sirius swiftly pushes the rest of his ice cream across the table, not even trying to be discrete about his offering. You and Remus start to dig in.

“Bribery!” James shouts, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. “This trial is a load of bullshit!”

“Sorry James, can’t hear you over how good this is.” Remus remarks with his mouth full.

You lick your spoon, watching the theatrics.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” James straightens his glasses and runs a hand through his hair in playful frustration.

“Aw, Jamie...you want some of mine?” You pout, offering some of your own frozen dessert.

“At least someone at this table loves me.” James grumbles, sticking a spoon into your bowl.

Sirius sticks his tongue out.

“Hey, I never said Sirius was cleared of all charges.” Remus raises a scarred brow.

“What?” Sirius snaps. “But I bribed you!”

You snicker at his balled up fists.

“So you admit to the bribery, you might as well admit to the thievery while you’re at it.” He finishes the bowl, licking the last of it from his spoon.

“Oh how the tables have turned.” James smugly points out.

Sirius childishly pouts, opting to pick at his black painted fingernails.

“We should have date nights more often.” James chuckles, clinking your spoons together.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

[writing-in-april]

Keep Reading

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader brings Spencer a surprise at their picnic date.

A/N: Here’s the third fic for my 750 follower celebration!! This fic has a much more soft dom reader then the previous two! The book that is referenced in this fic is totally made up and I wrote the fake book passages myself! I had a hard time writing this but I’m very happy with how it came out!  Thank you @spencers-dria for giving me this idea, I had such a fun time writing it!

Warnings: 18+, Soft dom reader, Public sex, Fingering, Oral sex (female receiving)

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.51k

I couldn’t believe my luck when Spencer called saying that he was coming home early as he had already finished all of his paperwork. I had begun packing for a picnic as soon as I had gotten off the phone with him.

The weather was going to be perfect, it was a crisp summer day with a steady flowing breeze. My intentions were to have a relaxing time with Spencer, but something else had been dancing in the back of my mind. There was a book I had been reading that had given me some ideas, specifically ideas on what I could do to Spencer in the bedroom. Though, the specific idea I wanted to try wasn’t exactly in the bedroom.

The two main characters had set up a picnic similar to the one I was about to embark on with Spencer. What was originally supposed to be an innocent little picnic turned into the male protagonist fingering the girl. I was pretty sure I had read the scene around ten times now, and I couldn’t wait to try something similar with Spencer today.

——

When we got to the park I made sure to pick a secluded spot where no one would bother us. Which ended up being just beyond the park’s edge just slightly into the woods that bordered it. My nerves bristled with anticipation as Spencer laid out the checkered picnic blanket, it was a simple task and I didn’t quite understand how someone could look so gorgeous just while doing it. I wanted- no, needed his hands on me.

“Would you read a book to me?” I tried to not let any of my giddiness seep through into my words, attempting to keep my plans a secret.

“I didn’t bring one.” He said solemnly, looking like he felt a little dumb for not bringing one along. I had already planned for that though, that’s why I almost immediately pulled him out the door when he came home so he couldn’t add anymore books into the picnic basket. There was only one book I wanted him to read to me.

“There’s one in the basket.”

When he pulled out the book he raised his eyebrows slightly in my direction as if to ask- Are you sure you want me to read this one? He already knew exactly what the book contained.

“I’ve been reading it when I have free time. Could you start where the bookmark is?” I played coy, pretending that I did not know that around halfway through the book it turned into an erotic novel. The bookmark was strategically placed just a few pages before the picnic scene, I didn’t want Spencer to catch onto my game just yet.

The first few pages he read were just filled with exposition, which I would have normally found intriguing if it wasn’t for the pooling wetness between my thighs. My patience was wearing thin as he made it to the fifth page, I was inwardly cursing my past self for setting the bookmark as far back as I did.

Maybe I could give him just a little taste of what’s to come, I thought while trying to stop myself from squirming. I then spread my legs just barely so he could get a slight peak at the lace panties I wore underneath my sundress. He stopped reading the passage as soon as he noticed, his breathing also becoming a little more heavy. I couldn’t have him stop yet, he was just about to get to the good part.

“Keep reading.” My voice was soft, but there was no doubt that it was a command rather than a suggestion. He continued though his voice was more high pitched and rushed. I did not move again until I heard the beginnings of the infamous picnic scene.

“The sun shone bright over the hills covered in luscious green pasture. There on those hills my love and I sat eating sweet fruit, the only prying eyes were a few stray sheep grazing.” The look on Spencer’s face told me that he had connected the dots in his head, after all he had read this book before. He had at least a good educated guess as to what was going to happen next.

“My love began to make the ascent up my thighs with his soft delicate hand. He did not make his intentions ambiguous to me, I knew exactly what his intentions were.”

I then moved to gently grab Spencer’s free hand up in the same winding path that his counterpart in the book took. His touches were light, like a whisper up the expanse of my thighs.

“This ok Spencer?” Once I saw his head nod in confirmation I commanded again, “Keep reading.”

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from me to keep reading the scene. I then moved the hand that was not guiding Spencer’s to bunch up the edges of my sundress fully revealing my bottom half, we were well hidden enough that I was not worried about any prying eyes. Spencer did not tear his eyes away from the book, he was such a good boy for following my directions.

“Slowly his fingers parted my folds in exploration, wanting to know every part of me intimately before giving me pleasure. Once he was satisfied with his study he circled his fingers around my entrance, causing me to gasp in euphoria.”

I looked expectantly up at Spencer and removed the hand that was guiding him, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

He nodded in understanding and started to mimic the actions of the character that paralleled him. First, imitating the explorative movements by parting my folds and gathering up the wetness that had gathered. Then, when he was satisfied, circled my entrance once, twice, and then three times. This time as he started to read, he followed the characters movements at the same time.

“A gasp fell from my lips as he plunged his fingers inside of me, his long and dexterous fingers reaching places that my own could never dream of. They curled upwards to hit my spot just right every time which brought me closer to the edge faster than any man had ever done.”

Spencer multitasked effortlessly, his own fingers entering my core causing ripples of pleasure to surge through me. The crisp summer air felt like it was not reaching my lungs fast enough as Spencer curled his fingers to hit right at my g spot.

“Can I taste you?” My breath caught in my throat at his sudden words. It was a slight deviation from what the characters did in the book, but how could I deny such an offer when he asked so sweetly?

“Of course you can, since you’ve been such a good boy so far.” The praise made him blush dusting his cheeks a lovely rosy red. He removed his fingers from my core then ducked his head down to dive in, the book flopping down onto the blanket forgotten. I laced his fingers with mine as he dragged his tongue slowly from my entrance all the way up to my clit, then circling it with his tongue. It was good, but not nearly enough to get what I desired.

“Spencer, stop teasing.” My voice growled out in frustration. Spencer obeyed my command, he knew what would happen if he was to act like a brat, and that’s not what he was after today. He wanted to be a good boy for you. He added more pressure to his tongue as he continued to circle my clit, finally getting me closer to fringes of an orgasm.

The grip on the edge of my dress loosened as Spencer pushed me closer to the edge, I just needed one more little push and I’d fall right off. I let go of the hand that was interlaced with his fingers to card through his hair, pulling slightly on his locks and grinding down into his face. That was the push I needed to fall off the edge, my orgasm was so intense that I had to bite on my bottom lip hard to prevent any cries from falling out. When he comes up for air after I have fully ridden out my high I notice that Spencer’s hair is a ruffled mess with his chin covered completely in my release. I hummed in content at his disheveled appearance, running my hands through his hair to ruffle it up even more before bringing him into a bruising kiss. We both let out a moan as our lips met; they were now both blissfully tainted with the taste of my release.

I hadn’t forgotten about Spencer and his desires, everything I wanted to do to him would be pushing a little bit too far at the boundaries of what we could do in public. I had a feeling he’d be loud enough to give our position away if I indulged right now.

“Come on, let’s go home where I can fully ravish you with my affection.”

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky

Spencer/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Sub!Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge

[shushiyuii]

Can we have project tom au where Tommy grabs Wilbur to cuddle and Phil freaks out thinking wilburs gonna die,

what if Tommy does to get baths like a cat and decides to bathe Wilbur and of course Phil thinks that this supposedly gentle and nice monster is going to eat his son and reacts by attacking tommy by himself to which Wilbur has to stop him from his place halfway in Tommy’s maw.

The amount of fluff potential this has yes, also two fics today! Yay!

Note: This is not part 3, this is just a side plot since in the main story line it will not be explained how Philza and Tommy meet. So here's their first meeting! (Also possibly new au tomorrow-)

Warnings: Mouthplay, maybe fearplay? (That's about it)

Words: 1.4K

He didn't mean too - Subject T0M au

Philza, despite knowing a lot about Subject T0MMY1NN1T due to how often his son talks about him, isn’t very familiar with how the two of them behave, hence Philza came around for an ‘evaluation’ and by that he means to spend time and keep an eye on his kid, it’s not that he didn’t trust Tommy- okay maybe it was, just a little though. He had his worries.

He trusted other specimens like Techno, Ranboo, Dream and Nikki! (Nikki reveal! :3) But that took a lot of time that he had spent with them so hopefully with this visit that trust could be formed because Wilbur talks so highly of Tommy, there’s no way that Tommy would ever hurt Wilbur, right?

That was his train of thought as he exited the elevator, he stared upwards of the ceiling, the same as his despite Tommy regularly being at a small size. Recently, Wilbur and Tommy had been getting a lot closer, close as to cuddling, which he was happy for! But father instincts had to be satisfied, didn’t they?

He made his way towards Wil’s office, the main place that he and Tommy spent time in, he sighed as he knocked on the door, “Coming! Gimme a minute!”.

Scrambling could be heard as Wilbur made his way towards the door, a whine could also be heard with the movements and a voice said something along the lines of “Tommy it’s okay! It’ll only be a minute bud! No need to follow me!”.

Then opened the door to see a slightly messy Wilbur, “Hey Dad! Sorry I was busy.”, “It’s fine mate, no worries- “. He stopped as he saw Tommy look over Wilbur’s shoulder curiously, “Curious to who this is Tommy?”. He snorted.

“Tommy this is Phil, my dad”. Tommy made a sound, trying to mimic what Wilbur had just said, he seemed to be trying to say his name. “It’s an improvement, anyway, Dad this is Tommy”. “Hey mate!” Tommy seemed to cheer up at what he said, “Seems he’s beginning to trust you dad”.

Okay, maybe Tommy wasn’t as bad as thought, his instincts did always act up. A beep could be heard from Wil’s phone, “Shit I got a report to hand in quick- Could you keep an eye on Tommy for a few? Will only be a couple of minutes.”. He said as he made his way to his computer.

“Wil I’ve told you multiple times to keep ahead of schedule”. He snorted; Tommy looked confused now as to what was going on. “I know, I know Dad! I just- Tommy takes up a lot of attention and time!”. “Really? How bad can he be? I take care of Techno and Ranboo just fine”.

“Tommy is smart, don’t get me wrong- and he picks up on things easily, it just- he mostly behaves like an infant a majority of the time”. He was about to protest when Tommy made a whining sound directed to Wilbur, “I’m busy buddy, play with Dad okay?”. Tommy looked over to Philza in curiosity and approached Phil, which was a bit nerve-wracking since Tommy was still taller than him.

He made another sound, but this time more cheerful and directed towards Phil, what was he supposed to do? I mean Wil said he usually talked to the guy so maybe? “Hey mate?”.

Tommy made a cheerful sound in response, and his form began to shift. It did catch him off guard as he first thought something was wrong but soon after, Tommy was shorter and seemed to look like… Him?

Oh right, his mimicking thing, he forgot about that. He remembers Wil also mentioning Tommy enjoyed the attention, so he patted the boy on the head, Tommy let out a coo at this in happiness and his form quickly changed back to his normal self.

He embraced Phil in a hug, his weight making the two of them fall to the floor, he moved his position to try and get out of Tommy’s grip, but Tommy had already made himself comfortable and began to purr. “Seems like the two of you are having fun!” Wilbur said from a distance as he typed away. Asshole.

In his opinion, Tommy himself wasn’t so bad. He reminded him of Wilbur in many ways like how clingy the two of them are, they do seem like a good fit for each other. Honestly, he’d probably see Tommy as another pseudo-son like how he is with Ranboo and Techno, although Techno would never admit to it.

As the two laid there in peace, he began to draw circular motions on Tommy’s head, with him continuing to purr, it made him smile. And soon enough Wilbur had announced he was done and sat in his office chair with a sigh and as soon as he said that. Tommy had perked up, making his way from Phil.

Tommy slowly made his way towards an exhausted Wilbur, Philza remaining in the same position as before. Slowly, Tommy seemed to grow in size, roughly to the same as Techno’s height.

And when he was close to Wilbur, he quickly picked him up, making Wilbur yell in surprise and got Phil to stand up in worry immediately in case something was wrong. Was he wrong about Tommy?! Oh god?!

“Tommy, I told you to stop doing that”. Wilbur yelled as he pushed away from the nuzzling Tommy, much to Tommy’s dismay, he got a whine in response. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one day, my god…”. Tommy whined again, seemingly in an apologetic manner, “It’s alright Toms, just do it with a warning okay? If you did that with Phil, the old man would probably have a heart attack!”.

He sighed in relief, “Wil- I think I just had a fucking heart attack mate! Does he always do this?”. “Yeah, sometimes. He does it when he wants to cuddle really. He’s been doing it a lot after the Techno incident”.

“Oh, guess that’s fair”. Wilbur sat in Tommy’s hand as Tommy made his way towards Phil. Then carefully sat beside the standing man.

“Jeez, he’s about the size of Techno when he’s like this.”. “Yep, this is why I can barely get any work done. See my point now?”. “Yeah, I do mate!” Both laughed, Tommy, trying to laugh with them barely mimicking the vocals to do so.

The two sat down for a while and talked, Tommy, tuning in occasionally. Barely understanding what the two were talking about. To say the least Tommy himself was getting bored.

Both Phil and Wilbur shrieked in surprise when Tommy picked up Wilbur and brought him up close to his face and whined. “Hey, Toms! Something wrong?”. The moment he said that Tommy opened what seemed to be a mouth and stuffed Wilbur inside.

“OH, SHIT- WIL-“. Phil yelled in panic and worry to see his son sticking out of Tommy’s mouth, clearly struggling. Tommy looked confused at Phil reaction, making a whine of worry himself. Wondering what was wrong.

Phil looked around as quickly as possible to try and find a means to help, instead of finding anything he quickly made his way to Tommy and tugged on his clothing, demanding he spits Wilbur out of his mouth. “TOMMY MATE! LET WILBUR OUT! PLEASE?!”.

Whatever it was, Tommy didn’t seem to understand what he was saying, but he didn’t like how scared both Wilbur and Phil were. What was wrong?

Did they feel unsafe? Did Phil want to be protected? He picked up Phil in a panic but that only seemed to make Phil worse. It made him panic himself.

He whined in worry as he let Wilbur out his mouth, Wilbur coughing in his hand. He continued to whine in panic, but he noticed that the two seemed to be relieved once Wilbur was out of his mouth.

Quickly, Tommy put Phil and Wilbur close to each other, Phil panicking for Wilbur’s safety.

“I-I’m fine dad, no worries”, “Are you sure mate?! He just fucking put you in his mouth”. Tommy didn’t like the panicked noises and continued to whine. Wilbur sighed and looked towards Tommy. “Tommy-“Tommy made eye contact with him, “It’s okay bud, you just did an accident. It’s okay.”.

Desperate for comfort he picked up Wilbur and nuzzled him, making apologetic whines. Wilbur comforted him back in reassuring vocals and hugging Tommy back. Then, he looked to Phil, with an apologetic expression, he whined again.

Phil got the message that Tommy was apologising, “It’s okay mate, don’t worry-“. He was cut off as Tommy picked up Phil and nuzzled him, then the two were transferred to his chest, where he held them protectively whilst purring. “Well, guess we’re stuck here for a while-“.

[poeticandors]

Hey look, I know it’s confusing with all of the anons (I know I’m not making it any better being one myself) but don’t rush or feel super pressured or anything.

I really loved part 1 and I appreciate all of the hard work that went into your making it. It was amazing, and I can tell hours and hours went into it.

I just feel like the way some people phrase things when asking for part 2 it’s basically like “gimme gimme” and it comes off as rude and demanding and doesn’t take *you* the person who is a.) not only doing this for us FOR FREE but b.) is giving up your time, energy, and effort to do this for us.

I’ve read AMAZING part ones where the author did an incredible job only for their part 2/part whatever to suck butthole because they were pressured into getting it done asap when it could have been amazing if their readers only weren’t demanding for it now, and sometimes rudely I might add. If you want something as amazing as part 1 first of all BE NICE AND ASK NICELY otherwise you might get nothing at all (or at least be brave enough to not be anonymous!) and 2 wait. It’s as simple as that! Wait and let the magic happen!

You guys writing is hard. It takes time and we’re lucky to be getting anything at all. She/He/They have a life! And they get to live it and enjoy it and when THEY FEEL LIKE IT we will get a part 2/3 etc… if you want multiple parts try to not suck the joy out of it for the author. Working them to death is going to get you the opposite of what you want. I for one know I don’t want a burned out writer who is too drained to finish their series.

It’s so so so obvious they worked so hard on this and I really appreciate it so much and loved it!

PSA: this is NOT directed towards all of the nice people who are asking *nicely* (and giving the author praise at the same time might I add) when they might expect the next part. Be nice to the authors, give them praise, and remember they don’t owe us anything!

Thank you for part 1 it was amazing and I completely understand the want for more but I don’t understand the rude and demanding people.

Take your time because I know we’d rather have something you loved and took a lot of time with and put energy and effort in! I look forward to part 2 when and if you ever want to put one up!

Thank you so much for this! I do appreciate everything you have said and also do 100% agree with you on this.

That Steve fic was my first fic in a year and I was actually surprised at the response but also grateful. I did forget that sometimes it is overwhelming.

A lot of my interactions have been positive, and I am VERY thankful for those who took the time to reach out and comment such wonderful things as well as reblog and share this fic. You guys are truly amazing and it does make me want to continue with this series!

A lot of times with fics, people do ask or even go so far as demand the next parts, or ask to be on a tag list most of the time they don’t even share or interact. As a writer, and for most others I am sure, it can be a little stressful. While I don’t think some people mean it intentionally and that they are just super excited that they forget to be thoughtful, it can make writers feel not so good…

All I ask of readers is to at least be kind to all writers. I know WE as readers really want future parts and feel like we really can’t wait because they can just be SO GOOD and we want more (hell, I want the next parts to be written already as well!!) but like you said, writers have lives too outside of this and sometimes things can’t be helped.

I really do want to put the next part out and I promise that the moment it is complete that I will. I am actually more than halfway done with it and I am making sure to take the time and look it over so it is just right for YOU all! It is in the works and should be out soon! I know we can all get anxious and excited about when/if next parts will be added.

I do want to take the time for not only you but all the others who have given praise to this fic. You guys are seriously so wonderful and that alone makes me want to write more for this. ❤️

So thank you again anon for this. I appreciate you and everyone else who have spread nothing but positivity about this and other fics! ❤️

[wingsofanillyrian]

Lights Over Monaco: Chapter 1

ITS HERE! I plan on updating this weekly/biweekly, based on how busy I am. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list! 

Special thank you to my new F1 friend for inspiring this fic as well as being my beta reader, @acourtofcouture​ ! F1 fans out there, her fics are AMAZING

Chapter Masterlist

F1 Glossary

----------------

Nesta Archeron discovered Formula 1 when she was 9 years old. She woke before the sun one Sunday morning, quietly excited to have the television all to herself and watch whatever cartoons she wanted. But she couldn’t remember what channel they were on, instead flipping through the programs. She had almost given up when she stumbled across a race.

The moment she had seen the brightly colored open-wheeled cars flash across the screen, she paused. For whatever reason, the high pitched wasp-like scream of the twelve cylinder engines and the astonishing speed that the drivers were travelling enthralled young Nesta. She didn’t look away once for the rest of the race, or even for the post-race interviews and wrap up that most adults skipped. Something about it had her adrenaline pumping.

Nesta traded her dolls for matchbox cars, and when she grew older, picked up racing magazines instead of teen ones. Ever since that day, Formula 1 consumed her. No matter how the other kids or her two younger sisters teased her for it, her love for the sport never tarnished. 

She spent years getting up at 2 am to watch live races that were being held halfway around the world. Instead of going to her senior prom, Nesta stayed home and layed out her predictions for the season’s drivers and constructors championships. She didn’t know how to do anything half-ass. She poured her whole heart into the sport and devoted her life to it.

**********

Nesta spent her 24th birthday working. It wasn’t like she could request the day off, not that it mattered. The racetrack at Monaco was exactly where she would have been anyway, working or not.

A press pass got her through the first security checkpoint. The team tents loomed ahead as she waited for personnel to cross the unstriped asphalt, inching her car carefully through the throngs of people. She rolled her window down, soaking in the sound of air tools and snippets of conversations. 

Street tracks like Monaco were her favorite. They required drivers to push themselves with plenty of technical corners and dramatic incidents. There was less room for error, as the tracks themselves were not as wide. Drivers had to know their limits and follow the racing line closely.

Race tracks were Nesta’s comfort zone. She knew each track on the calendar like the back of her hand. Every turn was permanently etched in her mind like words on a tombstone. Race weekends followed a set schedule, something that she could appreciate. Friday: practice laps. Saturday: more practice, followed by qualifying, where each driver got the chance to set the fastest lap and secure a spot in the starting line up for the main event on Sunday.

Before she had graduated college, Nesta had managed to fully entrench herself in the world of Formula 1. Securing an internship at ESPN her sophomore year, she had made herself indispensable to the crusty old man that had been the senior track side reporter for decades. She studied everything he did and the questions he asked each driver, noting what changes she would have made. Somehow, he came to admire her spirit and taught her the tricks of the trade.

When he retired the year after Nesta graduated, he went to the board of directors and personally recommended her to fill his spot. She waited two agonizing days for their decision. 

Using whatever means necessary, Nesta had clawed her way to the top and cemented her reputation as the most cutthroat reporter in the industry. Her goal had been for everyone in motorsport to know her name, and in only two years, she had done so. Better yet, she had caught the eye of one of the fastest drivers on the grid.

Her phone rang just as she pulled into the press parking area. She answered, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

Tomas’ velvety voice thundered through the speakers of her Civic. “Hey baby. You here yet?”

“Just pulled in,” She replied, touching up her makeup in the rearview. 

“Right on time for a quickie. Meet me at my trailer in five.”

Tomas had already hung up before she had the chance to protest. Both their reputations hinged on their relationship staying secret. If the press caught wind that she was fucking a driver, her credibility would go out the window, and Tomas would be the laughing stock of the grid. So sneaking into his trailer wasn’t exactly the type of discreet she was aiming for.

Tomas Mandray had been racing for Red Bull for two years when she had scored her first exclusive interview with him. He had just been awarded pole position at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, and Nesta had sweet talked her way into the paddock. It had taken minutes for his charming blue eyes to enchant her. He had won that race, and taken her to bed straight after. 

The sex was great, but that’s all it ever was. Their relationship was purely based on the physical; nothing emotional on either end. They had agreed on that from the start. Just sex.

Unfortunately for Nesta, somewhere along the way it had become something more.

Sighing, she put on her oversized sunglasses and hid her tawny hair under a gauzy scarf. The fashion wouldn’t stand out at all amongst the celebrities that frequented the Monaco Grand Prix. Going over the top here was expected; Monaco was known for its money. Due to the lack of income tax, Monaco was a haven for white collar delinquents and royalty alike. Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s were commonplace, and women wore rings that could set a jewel thief up for life. 

No one bothered her as she strode towards the pit checkpoint, flashing her press badge to get by. She fell into her usual cadence, exuding an air of importance and invincibility. Seemingly without realizing, people moved out of her way when they saw her coming. The navy, red, and yellow of the Redbull tent came into view, and Nesta inserted herself into the crowd of mechanics and VIPs to get past security. Press wasn’t allowed in the area until after the race.

Nesta broke away once inside, heading down a back corridor. She knew the layout by heart, having walked the path many times. The door at the end of the hall led outside to Tomas’ private trailer. She didn’t bother to knock before entering. Tomas would already be waiting for her.

He set down his phone as she entered. “Finally,” He said with a savage grin. “We only have a few minutes.”

****************

Tomas left as soon as he finished, donning his jumpsuit without so much as a kiss goodbye. Utterly used to the behavior, Nesta straightened her clothes and again touched up her makeup before heading back out.

She was scheduled to conduct a pre-race interview with Cassian Valle in the Mercedes tent in twenty minutes. Redbull and Mercedes were at opposite ends of the pit, giving her plenty of time to think.

Truthfully, Nesta was dreading the interaction. Cassian was an arrogant ass. She couldn’t stand interviewing him; all he did was skirt around questions and try to flirt, which made it incredibly difficult to get any headline-worthy tidbits from him.

Azriel Sainz, Cassian’s teammate at Mercedes, was much more amiable. He was mostly forgettable and quiet, but always gave her something to work with and was sometimes downright pleasant to talk to. She could understand why the public loved him, but not why they were so enamored with Cassian. Sure, he was a three time world champion, and that earned him plenty of fans, but he was just so… dreadful.

She made it to the Mercedes pit just minutes before the scheduled time, immediately spotting her tense cameraman, Jacob. Slim built, he was average looking, nothing special. He was sweet though, if not a bit of a pushover.

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed, chocolate brown eyes wide. “Valle is waiting.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, handing Jacob her sunglasses and the scarf. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Not my fault if he was early.” Nesta accepted her microphone and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“Happy birthday by the way,” Jacob added. Yes, there was the pushover side shining through. 

Nesta threw a grin at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Cassian’s back was to her as she approached, his white Mercedes jumpsuit half on, the arms of it cinched around his waist. The crisp gray shirt he wore left little to the imagination, hugging his sculpted form. Good; at least that would capture the attention of any women that might be watching. As would the deep brown curl that fell in his face when he turned to her.

“If it isn’t my very favorite reporter,” He crooned, a grin plastered on his face. “Took you long enough to get here. I also hear it’s your birthday.” Nesta glared at Jacob. He shrank under her steely look, an apology stumbling from his lips.

“I would give you a birthday kiss, but I think you’d knock me out if I offered.”

Nesta pointedly ignored him, “Let’s just get on with it,” She said, motioning to Jacob to start recording. Once he signaled he was ready, Nesta breathed deep, the sweet scent of high octane fuel assaulting her senses. It steadied her, and she slipped into her professional mask before turning to the camera.

“As we all know, the Monaco Grand Prix offers drivers a unique set of challenges. The two-mile street course has 19 technical corners with little room for error. It is in Monaco that we get to see who has what it takes to be a Formula 1 champion.” She turned to Cassian, gave him a professional smile and continued.

“Last year, you had a puncture at turn seven when you ran over some debris. Coupled with the fumble the pit crew had with not having your tires ready when you came into the pit, you finished a disappointing 12th place, winning you no points in the driver’s championship. Do you expect that this year will be better, or will you stick to your usual aggressive driving style?”

Cassian laughed, running a hand through his unbound curls. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be changing anything. You can expect to see me on the podium, sweetheart. Most likely in first.”

Nesta grit her teeth. She couldn’t air that, and he knew it. “How about you answer the question without trying to piss me off?”

“It’s too easy,” Cassian said, that devilish grin returning. Nesta cut him a glare that simmered with violence. “Alright fine,” He relented, putting his hands up. “Go again.”

She repeated her question, and this time he answered, “I don’t really see any need to change my driving style, what happened last year was a fluke. I went wide on the turn and didn’t notice Vanserra's front wing until the last second and wasn’t able to change course.” Nesta nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I don't see myself making any mistakes like that this year. You can expect to see me on the podium, most likely in first.”

“Thank you for that Cassian. Good luck on the track today.”

“Thank you,” He said, waving at the camera. He paused before adding, “Though I won’t need luck.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and signaled for Jacob to cut the recording. At least that last bit could be edited out. “You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?”

Cassian shrugged, undoing the arms of his fire suit and slipping into them. “I do my best.” He winked at her before zipping up his suit, opening his mouth to say something else when the Mercedes team principal, Rhysand, barked at him to get his ass in gear. He gave Nesta a wordless salute before jogging off.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jacob said, packing up his camera. “That guy has balls.”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver,” Nesta said simply, putting her sunglasses back on. “Of course he does.”

**********

Nesta watched the 78 lap race from the press box, silently cheering Tomas on. Each time the pack of cars passed, the windows rattled, doing little to muffle the engine noise. She chatted with the others as necessary, keeping one eye on the tarmac below. Tomas had started from pole position, and held onto first place until the final 10 laps. He had attempted to lap an AlphaTauri driver when the driver had failed to yield, violating FIA regulations. The two had bumped tires in what was ruled a racing incident, but Nesta knew better. Tomas had lost his cool and nudged the other driver on purpose, nearly sending him into the wall. 

It was a bad call on Tomas’ part, as the comfortable four second lead he had held over second place shattered. Nesta swore under her breath as Cassian overtook Tomas, her heart dropping when the other Mercedes driver, Azriel, did the same. Tomas would not be happy about that. 

When the checkered flag waved, Cassian was first, Azriel second, and Tomas third.  The winners parked before the podium, anger radiating from Tomas as he tore his helmet off. Tamlin, the Redbull team principal, said something to Tomas that had his cheeks burning red. 

Nesta grabbed Jacob and headed for the press room. They had a half hour tops before the post-race interviews started, and Nesta had to make sure she was front row. Though it didn’t matter where she sat; she always made sure her questions were answered.

It was more so for Tomas. She wanted him to see her, to see the understanding on her face and know she supported him even when he didn't win.

They were first to the press room, and Nesta had ample time to prepare questions. She couldn’t question Tomas, or she risked uncapping his rage. Instead, she jotted down a question she knew would shift the focus from Tomas to the Mercedes drivers.

Reporters began filing in, vying for the perfect spot and debating the race results with one another. Nesta remained in her seat, determined to maintain her composure as her stomach churned. Tomas finally entered, jaw set as he took his place on the stage. Nesta tried to subtly catch his eye, but he pointedly avoided looking at her. 

Cassian and Azriel entered, laughing and congratulating each other. Nesta noted the slight change in Tomas’ posture, the only hint of the blood boiling beneath his skin. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, but still Nesta remained seated. Cassian, at least, sought her out in the crowd, and flashed her an ‘I-told-you-so’ grin when he found her. Once the clamor had died down, Nesta stood. The room quieted further, the others having learned not to talk over her if they valued their jobs. Nesta had a knack for digging up dirt on anyone she pleased.

Her eyes were still locked on Cassian as the moderator indicated she could ask her question. 

“Azriel,” She started, turning to the dark haired man, “You were lucky you were able to take second in this race, after the incident in turn twelve on lap 27 when you sustained heavy damage to your front wing, thanks to the actions of your teammate. Does it ever get under your skin that Valle’s overly-aggressive driving threatens your own position in the championship?”

The room was silent. Tomas hid his grin behind a well-manicured hand. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw fluttering. Good; she had hit a nerve. Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. 

“It was a racing incident. Could have happened to anyone. I don’t think the blame lays entirely with Cassian; I could have given him more room on the corner.”

And that was that. Nesta didn’t ask any more questions, but she could feel Cassian glaring at her throughout. At the end of the interview, all three drivers thanked everyone before leaving.

As Nesta made her way back to her car, she texted Tomas.

You okay?

Her heart pounded as she waited for the reply. Her phone buzzed minutes later.

I’ll be home late. Party at the Redbull house.

Oh. Okay. See you later then.

“Happy birthday to me,” She muttered, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

Nesta wasn’t sure why his reply stung, but it cut deep. She had hoped that he would want to see her instead of going to another party and spend time with her on her birthday. Instead, he would probably stick his tongue down another woman’s throat like usual. She couldn’t really blame him. Their relationship had to remain secret and to do so, Tomas had to maintain his playboy aura. It wasn’t really cheating if she had agreed to it.

But if that were true, why did it hurt so fucking bad when he did?

Some of her tension eased when she finally spied her car in the lot. The Blue Bullet, she had nicknamed it, due to the strikingly bright paint. It was the first purchase she had made upon being promoted, and it had since become her pride and joy. She had chosen it because it set lap records left and right when it had hit the market a few years back, and she had craved speed her whole life. On city streets, this car was the closest she could get to experiencing Formula 1 without completely breaking the bank.

“How about you don’t ask stupid fucking questions next time your prettyboy loses?”

Nesta’s breath hitched. Your prettyboy. The accusation was clear. Her hand slipped from the door handle, turning towards the voice. If he knew… If he knew about her and Tomas, they were done for. She willed her voice into solid steel.

“Cassian. I would advise you to choose your next words wisely.”

He placed a hand on her Civic, getting in her face. “Racing means you have racing incidents. I don’t expect you to understand, seeing as you’ve never been behind the wheel of a real race car.” He sneered at her car, the insult striking home.

Fear faded, replaced by a rising wave of scarlett rage. Nesta’s gaze stuck to where his hand lay on the bright blue paint, utterly vexed by the infringement. She bared her teeth at him, rising to the challenge in Cassian’s flaming hazel eyes. 

“Get. Off.”

Cassian started at the command in her tone and obeyed. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Understanding the nuances of Formula 1 is my job description. I asked about that incident because I knew it would piss you off. Looks like I was right huh?” Her temper was getting the better of her. “And by the way, would it kill you to give me a decent quote once in a while, instead of always trying to get in my pants?”

“I do not-”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Nesta scoffed, yanking the door open. 

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she slammed the car door. “I was already planning on it.”

Those parting words haunted her drive home, even as she took the long way in hopes of blowing off steam. She shifted through the gears, throwing the Civic around corners much faster than was probably safe. Nesta didn’t care; her head was a mess. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything more about Tomas. Maybe Cassian had just thought she had a crush, based on the way she had been looking at him during the conference. Gods, she couldn’t get Cassian out of her head. 

His grin followed her up the stairs to her apartment, where she snapped the curtains shut. She couldn’t bear to look out over the track any longer today. 

Those words echoed in her head as she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed alone. Swam through her thoughts of Tomas, as she struggled to keep her eyes open when the clock showed 1 am. As she finally gave in, they were her last thought. 

I was already planning on it. 

@aphoeni @planet-faerie  @nina-zcnik @linsimin @that-little-red-head @teagoddess99 @enpointe10 @electronicstrawberrystrawberry @awesomelena555 @iptneus @weesablackbeak @wonderland--memories @nessian-trash-heap @magicalwaterfall @perfectlyimpxrfect @cassians-wings @valkyrie-archeron @acourtofcouture @nesemryn @chloepereyra @illyrianshadowhunter​ 

[onceuponadisembo]

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: 王室教師ハイネ | Oushitsu Kyoushi Haine | The Royal Tutor (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Viktor von Granzreich & Heine Wittgenstein, Viktor von Granzreich/Heine Wittgenstein Characters: Viktor von Granzreich, Heine Wittgenstein Additional Tags: Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Bad Humor, Happy Ending, Excessive Hand-Holding, anime movie canon, Staying Up Too Late, viktor just wants to spend more time teasing heine for his height, unamused heine, heine's anime past, a little bit shippy, Queerplatonic Relationships

Summary: 

Viktor invites Heine to his study for wine, makes as many bad jokes as he can, and then asks to dance with him. Set after the ball that happens at the end of the anime movie.

-----------------------------------------

I'm only up to Volume 9 of the manga right now and I don't know Heine's past, so although the manga will have some influence on some parts of the story, this fic is set in the canon of the anime, and will include references to Heine's and Viktor's past based on what was shown in the anime.

I'm also putting together a (very short, somewhat shippy) playlist for this fic so if you're into that sort of thing, here it is.

FFN link.

Read the first part under the cut

In the king's study, the bottle of Niedergranzreich white wine glittered in the lamplight.

There had been drinks at the ball. The usual wine and beer, which Heine had politely declined, but there was also something from Romano – a honeyed concoction with sharp-smelling spices and an even sharper burn as it slipped down his throat. When Viktor proposed a toast with the king of Romano, Heine had found himself with a glass in hand. He was then handed another at more than a few points in the evening – and at least one of them by Viktor himself. Heine did not quite remember how many cries of Prost! to the two kingdoms there had been, and now he sat, still in his evening suit, at his usual spot by the desk, swirling yet another glass with Viktor and feeling the wine more than usual.

It was already getting late.

He was not worried; tomorrow was his rest day. But there are no breaks for a king – although this one did not seem to notice the time at all. Heine had been surprised when Viktor invited him here tonight, thinking that perhaps the king wanted a report so soon after the princes' assignment had been completed. He had been equally surprised when he saw the bottle.

"More wine?" he chided. "Are you sure?"

Viktor was already pouring the first glass. "You can always have something else if you won't join me," he had said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'll send for it. Milk would be much more… age appropriate. Or what do you think?"

Heine harrumphed and took a glass.

It seemed that they were here for no reason at all. Tomorrow – or the day after – they would talk about how the princes had done, and what that could mean for the future of the Granzreich and Romano kingdoms. And although they were no longer young, nor as free with their time as they had been way back then, Heine did not mind indulging the king. Viktor may request the strangest things, but it was never without sound reason. There is always a first time for everything, though, because Heine was now starting to suspect that Viktor, too, had had more than a few at the ball.

-:-

"Eins dropped by, you know," said Viktor not long after they had clinked their glasses. "After the song."

"Oh?" said Heine, pausing as he lifted his glass. "I did not see him."

Chin in hand, Viktor hummed a sigh. "He didn't stay long. You know how children are when they grow up."

They sat in silence for a while. They had both grown up a long time ago, and far too quickly. There was still so much more to be done.

Viktor drained his glass and straightened up with a toss of his head, as if the silence were a blanket he was trying to shrug from his shoulders. "Well!" he chirped, refilling his glass. "I am glad that my sons are growing so well under your care. Shall I…?" He gestured the bottle towards Heine.

The tutor glanced into his glass. "Thank you, but I am barely halfway through."

"Take your time." Viktor settled back in his chair. "Speaking of my sons, I am already in talks with King Romano to arrange a visit to his kingdom. It is my hope that we can continue to strengthen our relationship as allies."

"And mine as well," murmured Heine. It could not be easy, as a young prince of Romano, to shoulder the high expectations of one's position while growing into one's own person. He thought of Prince Ivan, the eldest twin, who could never do enough in his father's eyes as well as his own; and of Prince Eugene, overlooked in favour of his brother and who, like his brother, expressed a disdain for "forever benchwarmer princes" at the start of their visit. The fact that the younger prince had done so even though, if all were to go according to plan, he himself would not be expected to ascend the throne, could explain why Prince Eugene had not seemed to see the point in trying for anything. The Granzreich princes could prove to be a good influence on the Romanos, if only they could spend some more time together.

A chuckle from Viktor interrupted Heine's thoughts. "What is funny?" he asked the king, his sombre musings quickly dissipating.

"I was just wondering if you also taught the princes to dance at the ball."

"Goodness, no."

"Ah. I thought so. Teaching them to sing would have been enough of a handful."

"Yes, but I cannot tell you how much I came to wish that I had blocked out a few hours, at least, to revise the basics together with them. I did not anticipate how insistent they would be." Heine took a fortifying drink from his glass. "Do you know how terrifying it is to be led around the floor by partners who do not quite know what they are doing? I was even lifted once. I was in the air."

Viktor chuckled even more. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I did love seeing all of you getting along so well."

"You were watching us?"

"I was watching you."

What a strange way of putting it. Heine was not sure he had heard Viktor correctly. Perhaps he should ask him repeat that, to check that he had not misheard him.

He sipped some more wine and held out his glass. "Could you top me up, please?"

-:-

"There's something I want to show you," said Viktor as he led Heine over to the lounge area. On the low table sat a strange shape, which Heine thought he recognised when Viktor removed the sheet that lay over it.

"My word," murmured Heine, venturing closer to inspect the instrument and the brassy sheen of its parts. "Is this… a phonograph?"

"Do you like it?" smiled Viktor, barely containing his delight. "It was a gift. Go on, give it a try."

"What does it play?"

"Wind it up and see for yourself."

Soon the hazy melody of a waltz undulated about the room and Heine watched Viktor hum along, fingers dancing in time to the music.

"What a tremendous invention," said Heine when the song neared its end. "It seems as if I were right in front of the orchestra."

"Yes, and listen to this." Viktor stopped the machine and switched out the cylinder. When it started up again, it sang out in a long, yearning trill.

Heine put down his wine. "This song!"

"Yes?" said Viktor, a twinkle in his eye.

The melody was haunting and the libretto solemn – far too serious to have been fully-appreciated the first time Heine had heard it. Perched next to Viktor, in oversized borrowed clothes, Heine had been certain they would be spotted among the crowded back seats. Once the show was over and he could finally relax, they spent the evening falling over each other as they butchered the most dramatic of the songs, missing the high notes and substituting their own lyrics.

"Why Viktor, had I not known any better, I would have thought that you had impeccable taste."

Viktor laughed – the same laugh from the alleyway behind the Wienner state opera house nearly thirty years ago.

-:-

Back at the desk, they talked of important things.

The latest in the national opera:

"No, don't tell me. I haven't seen it yet."

The moral discrepancies in classic childhood fables:

"I can't explain that to you, Viktor, I did not write it."

Whether or not it was possible to brew wine from carrots and bell peppers:

"I find it highly worrisome that a child would know so much about winemaking."

The bottle of wine slowly emptied out.

-:-

"And another thing," said Viktor who, at some point in the night, had ended up sprawled out next to Heine. They were down to the last few glasses, and Heine was propping himself up against the cushioned arm of the settee, trying hard to maintain a slight semblance of propriety.

"Why are we always drinking this?" Viktor squinted at his glass of wine, holding it up to the light. "It's the same wine every time ever since God knows when, always wine white- I mean white wine- from Niedergrr- Niederglan-zish."

Heine nearly slipped off the arm. Goodness gracious. Where was this coming from?

"But isn't it… isn't this your favourite?" he faltered, his head foggy. "You don't like it?"

Viktor made a sound that resembled both a hiccough and a splutter. Or perhaps it was a laugh. Heine could not tell at this point. "I do like it, but people get tired of favourites, Herr Professor. Even Lich… Leonhard. Would hesitate at the idea of eating sacher torte for every meal.

"I wouldn't be so sure," muttered Heine. Then, struggling with the plush upholstery, he pulled himself into a slightly less crooked sitting position. "But Viktor, you are being unfair. You were the one who brought this wine. And it was supposed to be my turn."

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's a special occasion."

"You must let me bring the next one." Heine racked his brains for all the good wines he had ever tried or heard of, but the memories seemed to have left him for the moment. "We could try… red wine?"

"Hmm?" Viktor tilted his head.

"From… Obergranzreich?"

"Interesting proposal," said Viktor, "considering their viticulture is not what it used to be."

"Hintergranzreich, then."

Viktor snorted. "You are making things up."

"And you were making a fuss over something that could have been so easily resolved," retorted Heine. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? If I had known, I would have looked around town and found something new, or checked with the chefs for recommendations – anything, if only you had asked."

Viktor leaned back to look at the tutor and smiled fondly. "That's just like you. I know I can always rely on you. You're a good friend, Heine."

Heine took a sip from his glass. "Though you tend to ask for the most reckless things," he said.

That was when Viktor asked him to dance.

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It's been almost exactly one year since I first watched The Royal Tutor, and I'm super excited to get this out. I already have the rest of this written out, but because it’s such a pain to upload fics to Tumblr, I’ll be uploading the rest of the chapters to AO3, and I’ll be putting just the link on Tumblr. I really want to make sure I check each chapter thoroughly, so I might take a few days to upload the next one. In the meantime - comments are appreciated and I'll love you forever.

[quietmyfearswith]

tied to you ; deliveryman!august walker x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —3,953  words

summary — in which august walker delivers grocery and somehow that delivers him straight to the love of his life

warnings —curse words, mentions of stalking, mentions of mean people, fluff??? 

pairing — august walker x fem!reader

a/n —feedback for this fic or any of my works is appreciated,, hope everyone is doing fine and staying safe ❤️

tagging —​ @iloveshawnieboi @la-cey​ @melancholyy-hill​ @beck07990​ @pedropcl​

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

“Fuck’s sake why am I doing this?” August groaned out as he walked down the aisle of the dry foods section of the grocery; Benji who was filling up the cart as he checked off all the grocery list of the customer answered his rhetorical question, “Well this is what you get for going against your father’s wish of accepting the CIA position that was being offered to you.”

He hit the back of his coworker’s neck as he pushed the cart as he followed him to the dairy section of the grocery, “I didn’t mean that, idiot! I meant why am I helping you out do these groceries when my job is to deliver them.”

Enjoying the sight of a whiny hulk of man groan about how he didn’t fancy picking out salted butter. “Well what’s the difference with picking out the items to you delivering them?” Glaring at the shorter man, he grabbed the carton of eggs that was indicated on the list. “For starters, I won’t have to deal with these sticky products.”

“Lucky for you we’re done with all those four orders,” Benji marked the orders as complete on the tablet as he pushed the cart towards the delivery area. August sighed out in relief, thankful that he didn’t have to deal with the sticky product labels — preferring to deliver the goods once they were wrapped in paper bags.

As he was loading up his delivery vehicle, August was softly humming as slid one of the last few crates in the back of the van. “‘Tis the last of them, Benji?” He shut the back of the van and received a nod from his closest friend from work. “And after that you’re free to go after delivering all of these.”

Pumping his fist slightly, he eagerly made his way to the driver’s seat and sighed out loud, “Last hour, Walker,” He lightly tapped the steering wheel as he glared at the road ahead of him, “One more hour and you’re done for the day.”

Turning on the radio, he hummed along to the familiar song that he once heard back in his years of highschool. The first household he had delivered to was a decent enough household — the mother was polite though her kids were a bit of jokesters who crowded their parent for Oreos yet were disappointed to find none; luckily however their other mother arrived with their desired snacks.

An elderly man was the second customer whom he delivered too; he was kind enough to give him some of the crocheted beanies he’s been making as a way to pass time. It was a pleasant combination of the colors blue, grey, and white — reminding him of his favorite winter jacket that his father had gifted him back then. Even though the sun was shining bright while the wind danced gently as it prodded his thick skin, he put the beanie on just as he was bidding adieu to the elder — it wasn’t just for show, but it also served as a wonderful reminder of the times he spent with his father.

As he knocked on the third door of the house he was supposed to deliver to, he was taken aback when a lousy man nearly spitted on his face as he clunkily greeted him. Another thing that rubbed him of the wrong way was how he brashfully dismissed him and quickly escorted him out of his house once he brought all of his groceries in himself.

“Last one for the day, Walker,” He chanted as he parked in front of the last house he was supposed to deliver to. After setting the car in park, he looked around to take in the surroundings as he drew his eyebrows together with slightly pursed lips, “Never been around this part of the neighborhood before.”

Hopping off the van, he headed to the back of the van and grabbed two of the paper bags and headed to the front door. His pointed elbow expertly rang the doorbell and stood still as he waited for the customer to open it. Truthfully, August wasn’t sure who or what was he expecting to greet him — but it certainly wasn’t a beautiful woman who was dressed with a pair of sweats and an oversized sweater.

“Oh! My groceries,” She smiled as she took the bags out of his grip and placed them by the floor near her coat hanger; after doing so she looked up at him so gently and sincerely that it helped snap him out of his dazed state, “There’s three more bags in the van; hold on and let me go get them all.”

“Don’t be silly, let me come and help you!” As he was heading to the parked car, she trailed behind him and tried to initiate a conversation, “So sorry about having so many groceries by the way. I just moved here and well, may have bought one too many items; but I just wanted to make sure I had a full stock for things.”

Once they both were faced with the remaining grocery bags, August handed her the one that weighed the least — relishing on how soft her skin was as they briefly grazed against each other — and carried the two that were leaning on the heavier side. “Don’t apologize for that, ‘m just doing my job and making sure your groceries get to you safely.”

“Does that involve you handing me the lighter bag?” She scrunched up her nose to him — and he thought that it was the most adorable expression he has ever seen on any living thing — and he shook his head and let out a soft laugh, “No it’s not that, just don’t a pretty woman like you stressing and lifting these kind of items.”

“So is that where you come in? You come in to save me and act as my knight in shining armor?” Y/N cut him off as she guided him to the dining room, she pointed to the table after she placed the bags down, “You can set those down over there.”

He nodded as he mimicked her actions, “Well I’m not sure that’s how I want to be known by you; how about I start off being known as your friend?” Surprised with how he responded, he covered him up his surprise with a boyish smile, “I can deal with that, I am bound to meet new people anyway,” She held out her hand and offered her name to him and took his soft hand in his rougher one, “I’m August, and welcome to the neighbourhood.”

Once their hands unclasped, Y/N then cleared her throat as she smiled at him, “Can I offer you a drink? Being out and about must have tired you out.” Her concern over his well-being was touching but her statement had him bulging his eyes as he remembered how technically he still was working, “Oh shit I need to get back so Luther can take the van out for his shift!”

She giggled at his panicked state and led him out the door, “It was very nice meeting you, August.” He looked at her with gloomy eyes as he apologized, “I’m sorry to cut our conversation short; but I promise to stick around longer next time.”

“Guess that means I’m gonna have to order something again next week huh?” Was her cheeky reply to him as she waved him off one final time.

“Benji! We can see the customer’s name once they place in an order, right?”

Pausing his movements halfway through his drinking of the hot chocolate he prepared, Benji suspiciously raised an eyebrow at his coworker, “Yeah we do; why’d you ask? You gonna stalk one of our customers?” His genuine concern of what his friend’s intentions were masked behind a nervous chuckle; but he was astonished to see faint traces of a blush appear on his cheek.

“Nothing like that, you moron!” August was quick to defend himself as he grabbed the tablet that was on the break table and scrolled through the application of the grocery store they were working for — each grocer had been assigned a certain amount of customers and from there they will be fulfilling their orders . His eyes lit up when he saw her name included in the list who ordered; he looked up at the top right of the screen, “Break’s over, Benj, let’s get back to work.”

As Benji threw the cup he drank on earlier in the trash as he craned his neck at his friend, “Why are you heading over to the aisles? Luther came in today and he’ll help me out with the grocery picking.”

“Let Luther pair up with Etahn, then we both can go together,” Came August’s reply as he carried the tablet on his way out of the break room. Holding a hand in his broad chest to stop him from coming out as Benji looked at him suspiciously, “What is up with you? Last week you were bitching about how you hated picking up peppers and now you're as giddy as Jack and Jill before they fell down after getting their water.”

Huffing out loud at his friend who wouldn’t budge and accept his mumbling response; with a sigh, August then had no choice but to vaguely share his encounter with a customer, “I met a girl the previous week as I was delivering groceries, and I saw her name in the list,” He gestured with his hands to try and divert the attention from his blundering state, “Just wanna make sure her groceries are filled up correctly.”

Rarely seeing his friend smile and be all giddy, he decided to tease him as they both carried on with their duty of picking out the products, “Look at the big bad wolf becoming such a softie for his crush huh? Who knew a girl was all it takes to get you to smile!”

Despite shooting daggers in Benji’s back as he picked up a bag of spinach, he was internally agreeing with what he said. After picking up everything that was on the list for their customers, August decided to pick up a bunch of fresh flowers for Y/N — he paid for it of course, it would be a dick move on his part if he were to charge it on her for it would thus spoil his surprise.

Similar to the last time, he decided to deliver to Y/N’s house last — in hopes that would grant him more time to bond with her. As he carried two bags while he rang her doorbell, he nervously shifted his weight between the heels and toes of his feet; but his nervousness eased away once the door opened to reveal her smiling face, “Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

A wink accompanied her greeting as she removed her arm from the doorway, “These all the bags for today?” She immediately took the two bags that her arms were on his bulging ones; he held up a finger, “There’s one more! Can I bring it inside?”

She nodded as she tilted her head towards the kitchen, “I’ll leave the door open and you can head inside okay?” Nodding to her, he skipped over to the van to grab the last bag containing her groceries while the other hand carried the bouquet of sunflowers he picked out for her. Idiot, what if she’s allergic to flowers? He scolded himself as he entered through her front door.

As he entered inside her home once again, seeing her move around her kitchen as she began to organize her produce in their proper cupboards when he nervously declared his arrival, “Hey, here’s the last batch of your orders,” He slid the the bags on the dining table then held out the arrangement of the flowers to her surprised face, “And these are for you, lovely.”

Grabbing it from him, she smiled at him as she teased him, “Does this come with an extra charge?” Laughing at her antics, he tickled her sides and shook his head, “No mam! This one’s on the house.”

“Well thank you so much! Sunflowers are a beautiful symbol for hope,” Placing the flowers by the sink, she grabbed for the vase her next door neighbour gifted her with when she first moved in, “Any particular reason why you gave me flowers? Hope I didn’t miss the memo for any important event.”

Something about seeing her place the flowers delicately in the vase and fill it up with water filled his chest with joy; once again she shook his head, “No particular reason, just felt like giving a pretty girl something pretty too.”

“What a flirt you are!” She lightly hit his arm after placing the vase in the center of her table, “By the way, can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m good,” August assured her as he began helping her unpack the items she had ordered; unfortunately for him, the bag he was emptying was filled with hygiene and feminine products she ordered. Noticing what products he was left with, she quickly shoved the vegetable on the fridge as she came to him and removed the items from his hold, “Oh no no, don’t worry about those. I can clean those up.”

Opening his mouth to retort, he was about to assure that it wasn’t in any means awkward for him but she was already walking away with that bag and placing it in her bathroom, “Is this standard procedure by the way? Delivery drivers come into houses to help keep the groceries?”

“No it isn’t actually,” He shouted out so she could hear him even if they weren’t in the same area, “I only do so for the customers I wish to get to know you better.”

Coming back from the bathroom she then squinted her eyes at him as she crossed her arms while leaning against the doorframe, “And what am I? The fifth customer you’ve been intrigued with?” Walking to her with a smirk as he bopped her nose, “Luckily for me, you’re the first and I’m hoping you’ll be the last one too.”

Feeling her heart speed up at what he said paired with the sincere look he had on his face. Wanting to test the waters with how comfortable she was around him, “May I?” A hand gently hovered near her cheek; when granted the consent through a gentle nod, his palm lifted her chin gently as his thumb gently smoothed over the skin of her cheek lovingly. Smiling at each other, they silently took in each other’s beautiful features. As they were inching closer, their lips almost touching, until they were interrupted by the ringing of August’s phone.

Biting his lip as he groaned out and fished his phone out from his pocket as he muttered a quick apology to her as he checked the screen of his device, “I’m sorry about this, lovely. I have to go back to the grocery — they need me back there.”

Despite being disappointed with how he had to leave, she understandingly nodded and smiled at him, “Maybe next time try reaching out to me outside of your working hours?”

“I will, I promise,” He kissed her cheek and winked at her one last time before waving goodbye to her, “See you soon, lovely.”

She didn’t place an order for the following week — at first he thought that perhaps she did order, but not during his shift or perhaps while he was having his day off — but according to Benji who had access to seeing the entire history of orders, she didn’t place an order.

“Maybe she got sick of your face,” Benji teased as he placed the bag of spinach on the cart that the larger man was pushing down the aisle. “Way to help my self-confidence, Benji,” He grunted out as he got the bag of tomatoes that his coworker pointed out that was needed by their customer.

“I’m just worried that maybe something bad happened to her?” The thought had him worried and his friend didn’t read the memo that maybe he needed an uplifting message and not to contribute to his downward spiral of worry, “Well it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it right, Walker?”

He was almost gonna shove him off when Benji held up his hands and clarified what he meant, “You know her address, so what’s stopping you from dropping by her place to check if she’s doing well?” That made him pause for a bit, that thought never crossed his mind — but now that his coworker brought it up, he feared that it might come off as rude and stalker-ish.

“Wouldn’t she think of me as a creep just for knocking on her door?” His hands were starting to feel clammy as he pushed the grocery cart and began to list out the different ways his suggestion could go wrong; but all his friend could really have to say with a shrug was, “Guess there’s only way to find that out then, right?”

Standing in front of her front door, he was now cursing out at himself for following Benji’s advice. Wedged between his right underarm were the stems of the another bouquet of sunflowers he picked out for her while his left arm carried a paper bag-filled of chocolates, chips, and some cookies. If he recalled correctly, the items he briefly got to unpack for her were filled of feminine products that were useful for one had their period.

After ringing the doorbell, the door opened a few seconds to reveal Y/N who had messy hair and a tank top and a pair of sweatshorts, “Oh, August! Hi, how are you?” At the end of her greeting, her face wrinkled up in pain as she clutched her stomach, “I’m doing fine but I take it you’re not doing well?”

She nodded and frowned, “I’m sorry but it’s just been a rough few days; I don’t think now is a good time to have guests, I really am sorry.” Having a guest — despite the current one she has was someone whom she wanted to get to know better — while she was going through shark week might turn out for the worse due to her hormones and mood swings getting in the way of her interacting with them.

“Not to sound creepy or anything,” He said but thought that that’s how must come off as he continued, “But I figured that you might be going through something since I got a quick glimpse of your groceries the last time you ordered, so I hoped to bring you comfort with some flowers,” He handed her the fresh bouquet with a nervous grin, “And some comfort food,” He gestured to the paper bag and handed it over to her.

When she took the bag from him, she snuck a peek to see that it contained her favorite snacks and smiled warmly at him, “August, this is so adorable, thank you! Would you want to come in?” Stepping aside when he nodded yes, he smiled at her and closed the door behind him. “Wanna help me pig out everything you’ve given me?”

Following her to the couch, he laughed as they both sat down; opening the package of her favorite chocolate, she then turned to him, “Wait, are you working right now?”

“Nope,” He popped the sound of the letter p as he shrugged off his jacket and placed it on top of the arm of the couch, “I decided to drop by your place, and this time not during my shift, and see if you wanted some company?”

“Oh? And what would happen if I said no to you?” She grinned at him as she took another bite of the chocolate bar, “Then I’d be extremely disappointed but understand why — some of us just need space.”

Though understanding was practically the bare minimum, she had to give it to him for not being a dick. “You’re something else you know?” She said after swallowing down the tasty chocolate, “Charming and just the right kind of mysterious, I like it.”

“To be honest, I was hoping you would be soon liking me.”

Smiling wide at his admission, she then trailed her fingers along her hand, “And incredibly straightforward too; see you are just full of surprises huh?” They both laughed and he felt himself let loose and enjoyed how they both were bonding.

“It might be the wrong time, but maybe I can take you out on a date sometime?” That question could make or break it for what their relationship would entail, but he decided to stand by it.

“Instead of going out sometime, how ‘bout we have one right now?” She suggested, “You already brought some snacks, we can order in and watch some movies or shows too if you’d like?”

Unfortunately for him he could feel his cheeks redden, “And aren’t you a bold one too? And yes, I would love that idea.”

They then ordered food through a delivery app and decided to start an action movie; and wanting for some sort of comfort, she then moved to lean on August’s arm not before asking, “May I?” Nodding, he then draped an arm over her shoulders which allowed her to lay the side of her head across his chest.

Feeling the heat radiating off of him somehow reduced the discomfort she was feeling whereas August loved the feel of her skin against his, “I’m sorry this is how our first date goes,” She spoke suddenly when she looked up to him and smiled, “Hopefully you’ll warrant me worthy enough for a second one?”

Chuckling to himself, he shook his head, “You have no idea just how whipped I am for you huh?” Bopping his nose with her finger, he then answered her, “I think that maybe you can guarantee one by, I don’t know,” He shrugs his shoulders as he pretends to think for a few seconds, “Perhaps a kiss? Only if you’re fine with it though.”

“That simple?” Came her immediate response as she moved to sit on his lap, with her hands rubbing his stumbled cheeks. Leaning over to him, she smiled as she connected her lips with his; his hands pulled her closer to his body by dragging her by the hips. Their opened mouths became the venue for their intermingling tongues. Hands were clawing and feeling out every inch of them that they could reach.

Biting his bottom lip, she broke away from the intense kiss with a smirk, “Will that give me a second date with you, August?” The way she batted her eyelashes at him sweetly contradicted the way she sultrily said it and made him chuckle as he winked, “Even without the kiss, I was gonna give you another shot anyway.”

The doorbell once again rang and Y/N stood up and told her she was gonna go get the food; when she walked back to the living area with their food in hand, she handed August his order while she began eating hers, “We kinda did the whole thing backwards huh?” The grocery store worker then tilted his head to the side as he was curious with what she meant which prompted her to explain, “We made out first before having dinner and watching a movie!”

“Maybe so,” He said after swallowing down a portion of his meal, “But I’m not complaining since all of these led me to being with you.”