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cynettic · 3 years

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Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find - pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight.

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long.

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest.

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…”

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…”

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck.

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

#genshin impact #genshin impact hc #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kitsune reader #yandere scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #reader x scaramouche #scaramouche angst #writing #angst

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

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I am so completely enamored with Danny as jons ex and I would be forever in your debt if you finished that

i wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much, its definitely one of my weirder ones xD since im not sure when i'll get around to actually finishing it (if ever) you can have a very rough chunk of it instead. you'll have to forgive any mistakes, im not up to editing it.

In a surprising show of athleticism, Jon ducks under Sasha’s chair before the specter of his past manages to see him.

Sasha swears at the action, backing up in her chair and peering down at Jon in bafflement. “What on Earth are you doing, Jon?”

Instead of answering her question, he backs up even further, tucking his feet out of sight. He thinks Sasha’s umbrella must be under here, and judging from the sharp point currently jabbing at his thigh, he probably broke it. “Is he still there?” he hisses, tilting his head to avoid bashing it into the desk.

“Who?”

“That- that man!”

A pause. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

Jon’s turn to pause. “I suppose you might call him that,” he replies stiffly. And it’s true. The man, from Jon’s brief, panicked glimpses, is at least six foot, with thick, dark hair and a bright grin.

And he looks exactly like Jon’s ex, Danny Stoker.

He’d done an almost comical double-take after a cursory glance; at first he’d thought Danny was the new hire, but this man was more angular, like a sharper, leaner version of his ex. So no, it couldn’t be him.

That didn’t stop him from diving under the nearest object, ergo Sasha’s desk. Not the wisest of decisions, considering his throbbing side, but he’s never been known for grace under pressure.

He’s not exactly sure why this fight or flight mode’s been activated- he and Danny had parted on fairly good terms, each recognizing that although they cared about the other, they simply weren’t compatible in the long term. They’d dated for a little over six months when Jon was a freshman, and he’d fallen hard.

Danny had been his first real relationship, and Jon was shocked that someone like him even looked his way. Impossibly handsome, incredibly fit, desired and envied in equal measure, and he dated scrawny, shy, insecure Jonathan Sims; the rumor mill went wild. They’d met at a party, and not even a good one. In a brief moment of liquid courage, Jon managed to insert himself into a group and fit in one snarky joke that sent Danny into stitches, the rest of the partygoers following his lead. For one second, Jon felt like he truly fit in, like he was someone worth knowing.

Danny had a way of making someone feel special. Big, romantic gestures, surprising him after class, taking him on little expeditions beyond campus. Jon didn’t drive, still doesn’t, and Danny wanted to show him the world outside of their privileged little campus.

But, like all of Jon’s relationships, it came to an end. Jon wasn’t ready for such overwhelming affection (didn’t think he deserved it, quite frankly), and Danny needed someone who could handle his fast-paced lifestyle. Jon was not that man. They broke up amicably, even if Jon shed a few tears in private, saw each other on campus a few times. Danny tried to reach out more than once, just as friends, but Jon’s never been able to handle more than one relationship at a time, and by then he’d met Georgie.

But now it seems the past is unavoidable, and standing near the circulation desk. Well, now walking in his direction, if the steady footsteps were any indication. Jon’s heart begins to hammer in his chest as it hits him that he is, in fact, hiding under a desk because a man who sort of looks like his ex is in his general vicinity. Coward.

“‘Lo!” God, even the voice is similar, if not as deep. “Tim Stoker. Reporting for duty.”

Stoker. Tim Stoker. Jon startles, slamming his head against the desk with a yelp.

Somewhere in his spiraling thoughts and throbbing head he remembers- Danny had a brother. An older brother that he adored. This must be the famous Tim- Danny made him out to be a saint, and though Jon never met him, he felt some fondness via Danny’s descriptions. But Tim’s going to have no fondness for him, especially considering Jon’s current position, hiding in pain under his coworkers desk.

“Pleased to meet you!” Sasha chirps, very clearly amused by the situation. “I’m Sasha James. And this-” she tugs at one of Jon’s legs, dragging him a few inches into sight. Jon buries his head in his hands and wishes he were invisible. “-is Jonathan Sims. We’ll be training you.”

“Excellent.” Tim’s voice holds the same good humor Danny’s always did, and sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest. “Er, you alright down there?”

“Yes,” Jon responds robotically, scrambling to his feet and standing behind Sasha’s chair, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes, lest he be drawn in. “I- uh, lost a pen. P-Probably left it in the copy room, I’ll just be going...there.” With that incredible performance, he fled.

And only tripped once on the way out.

________

So Jon’s kind of cute.

Tim doesn’t normally go for tiny disgruntled academics, but Jonathan Sims is an interesting fellow. He’s got a reputation for being the ‘problem child’ of the Research Department, awkward and prickly and always available with a snide word. He wields his books and files like a little suit of armor, and the only person he’s seen him open up to is Sasha. Besides their little conversations, Jon is all work and no play.

Except with Tim.

Sasha says she’s never seen anything like it, with one of her secret little smiles. Jon’s always staring. Usually, the man can’t hold eye contact to save his life, but he’ll spend full minutes looking at Tim when he thinks he can’t see. The first few times, Tim would turn around and smile, but that practically sent the man into convulsions, dropping his papers and jumping out of sight like a spooked cat. It was funny the first few times, but Tim pitied him enough to ignore it now. He hopes Jon enjoys the view.

God forbid he ask the guy a question. Jon will look around the room, as if waiting for someone else to answer, when it’s clearly directed at him. He’ll blush and stammer his way through every explanation, keeping a wide berth of at least two feet between them. Even when Tim wants him to look at his screen, he’ll squint from far away. Tim starting to think he smells bad, or has some sort of communicable disease unbeknownst to him.

“It’s not that,” Sasha assures him, again with that unreadable smile. “Trust me.”

Time to try something else.

He prints out his latest follow up, a rather elaborate statement regarding mistaken identities and absolutely nothing supernatural. He knows Jon prefers to look at things on paper, as screens ‘trigger his migraines’ if Tim understood his mumbles. Maybe if he can engage with him on familiar territory for the both of them, he’ll be able to hold a conversation. Tim specifically requested his help on this one.

“If you could just look it over, make sure everything’s up to snuff, that’d be great,” Tim says to the top of Jon’s head, as the man refuses to lift his own to meet his gaze. “You know how Dr. Walker is. Always-”

“Finding mistakes where there are none? I’m familiar with her methods,” Jon snorts, and Tim feels like he’s getting somewhere. A whole sentence! With classic Jonathan Sims snark! “I-I can give it a look. I’m rather busy, but -”

“Take your time,” Tim says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I finished a bit early, so I don’t need it for a few days yet. Don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not.” Jon meets his eyes for about ten seconds before ducking his head back down.

Progress!

#tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #jondanny #what a tag i need to use it more often #if people do actually like this i might be tempted to give it another go #i think the outline for it ended up being too long for a week event #so i got lazy and gave up #asks #my writing #danny stoker #jondanny au

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lokiskitten · 3 years

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Loki Laufeyson | wrong room

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : after landing on Midgard, you, Thor and Loki are forced to book rooms at the closest hotel in order to spend the night. However, you accidentally end up joining a room which isn’t yours and gain someone else’s bed.

warnings : mention of drinking, basic smut and unprotected sex.

In order to go after and find Odin, the three of you had been forced to travel to earth and lead unsuccessful investigations. Having to listen to Thor and Loki argue every ten minutes had easily gotten under your skin and irritated your nerves, which led you to beg the two of them to find a place to stay for the night. All you could think about was to find a bed in order to spend a good night of rest, and that no matter if you had to sleep onto a foreign planet. Besides, Thor and Loki’s presence managed to reassure your anxiety and fears.

And this is how the three of you ended up in a nearby hotel, the cheapest you managed to find as you wished to get over the payment step as soon as you could. Loki was getting frustrated, visibly annoyed to be forced through such a humiliating thing that was having to sleep somewhere else than in his personal silk sheets. On another hand, Thor seemed to enjoy this adventurous trip, which was far from being any surprising. You’ve know him since forever, and you knew that traveling to new places was something he liked to do- especially when it came to mixing up with “friendly” misgardians.

“Thank you.” Thor’s deep voice spoke as he took ahold of the three separated keys, Loki fainting a sarcastic smile as the three of you now turned around in order to reach the elevator. “This is ridiculous. Why can’t we just go back to Asgard? It isn’t too late.” The black haired man affirmed whilst taking decisive steps. “Because a little someone lost our own father and I refuse to go back to Asgard before I know that he is safe. Now that we left, I refuse to come back home empty handed and disappoint our people.” Thor responded. You decided to stay out of this little family argument as you believed that it was none of your business in the first place, even though the two men had insisted for you to accompany them.

Loki chuckled darkly, as if he took his brother’s many blames as compliments. The demigod shook his head as the three of you stepped inside of the elevator, Thor’s fingertip pressing against the proper button which caused the doors to close. “I did not loose him.” Loki defended his acts, earning an unamused groan from his older brother. You smirked as your head tilted towards the floor. Once the doors of the elevator finally opened again, you were all able to walk out and make your way down the corridor in order to reach the rooms.

Though, being in desperate need of a distraction and some alone time away from the two arguing brothers, you suddenly stopped in your track. “I think I’m going to make a stop at the bar. I won’t be long.” You affirmed awkwardly, earning a simple nod from the blonde god which allowed you to turn back around and disappear from their sight within a short minute. Thor didn’t worry about your safety, being aware that you were fully able to defend yourself with the help of all of the amazing skills you had developed through your many asgardian educations.

[ ... ]

About two hours later, you found yourself stumbling through the empty corridor which was meant to lead you to your room. However, the beverage which flowed through your veins caused your brain to behave slightly dizzy. Your eyesight was blurry, yet a couple of blinks were enough to make it all clear again but only for a few seconds. Upon arriving in front of the bedroom door you expected to be yours, your hand took ahold of the handle which you twisted before pushing open the door and creating an opening for you to walk in.

There was no form of light but the one which came from outside of the building- yet which remained muffled by the half transparent closed curtains. The entire room was plunged into darkness, and you therefore weren’t able to distinguish Loki’s sleeping silhouette underneath the bedsheets. The first thing you felt like doing was to remove your clothes from your body, the alcohol in your organism causing you to sweat in an uncomfortable manner. Besides, you weren’t used to the fabric of those misgardian shirts and jeans- which only led you to want to remove them even more.

Throwing your shirt towards the bed, the piece of clothing landed onto Loki’s face which immediately caused him to frown out of confusion. He reacted slowly, hand reaching up for his head from underneath the bedsheets before he dragged the shirt off his face. Meanwhile you continued to undress, taking off every single piece of clothing which once hid your body as Loki attempted to sit up straighter in order to speak up about the situation. Unfortunately, his parting lips were forced to go silent as your panties landed against his face, his eyelids shutting close out of pure instinct.

A tired sigh escaped his lips as he dragged your underwear off his tired features. Though his now fully awake eyes admired your body, his head tilting as he started to wonder when you would finally notice his presence. Meanwhile, you were finally able to slip underneath the covers as a gentle hum escaped your lips. The sensation of the covers over your silhouette and the mattress underneath your body felt absolutely orgasmic; your tired brain looking forward for a good night of rest.

However, the unexpected sensation of someone else’s warmth against your arm caused your eyebrows to frown out of confusion. Looking up from the pillow as your eyelids moved open, a yelp escaped your lips as your orbs landed onto the sight of Loki mischievously grinning at you. Nearly falling off the bed, you managed to catch the bedsheets right in time whilst your other arm reached out for the bedside lamp. You turned on the light, distressed eyes scanning Loki’s now chuckling features.

“What are you doing in my room?!” You asked him in a defensive manner, using the bedsheets in order to hide your naked body. The demigod frowned. “This is my room.” He responded on an offended tone, the two of you entering a processus of pure confusion regarding this satiric situation. Your eyes diverted towards the corner of the room, spotting his infamous black suit which rested onto a chair and which was previously worn by the demigod himself. Awkwardly, you began to realize that the god of mischief might have been right : this was indeed his room which you had mistaken for yours.

“Oh..” you spoke, admitting that you were in the wrong which caused a smile to appear on Loki’s face. The presence of light in the room now allowed you to notice that he was naked himself, a blush spreading over your face which the black haired man didn’t fail to notice. You were suddenly pulled out of your daydream by the loud sound of someone banging against the nearby wall, Thor’s deep voice soon echoing through the thick material of the building. “Hey! Cut it off.” He ordered, seemingly not appreciating to be awoken at night by the two accomplices.

Loki simply rolled his eyes, remaining unbothered face to his brother’s futile threats. Instead, his mind decided to focus onto something way more interesting which was the opportunity of engaging something lustful with you. Biting down onto his bottom lip, he watched as you dragged the sheets a little further up onto your naked chest. To be frankly honest, your fake modesty only enhanced his secretive desires. “Oh come on.” He purred seductively, hand slowly moving up to yours before he started to lower the covers in order to expose your upper body to his sight.

Even if he had the worst reputation, you tended to trust Loki with your life as you’ve known him since forever. Therefore, you accepted to lower the sheets and expose your bare chest to him. His blue eyes watched with admiration, his fingers cautiously dipping into your soft mound and causing the squishy flesh to wiggle. Your breath itched due to this unexpected physical contact, yet you managed to appreciate every single second of it.

Being aware that he had your consent, Loki then wrapped his strong arms around you naked body and forcefully pulled your silhouette close to his- your respective legs interlocking as your own arms wrapped around his muscular back. You absolutely melted into this new source of warmth, appreciating how soothing his smooth skin felt against yours. You were now able to feel his hardening genitals brush against your entrance, tip colliding with your moist lips which instinctively parted for his hardness. Loki allowed a guttural groan to escape his lips, face tilted downwards towards yours as he observed the way your facial features grimaced out of pleasure.

Your forehead was soon to rest against the crook of his warm neck, his hips grinding against yours in order to engage intercourse in the smoothest way possible. His lips started to spray kisses against your neck, causing your genitals to throb out of envy as the two of you tried your best to remain as silent as possible even tho the natural lust which filled your respective organisms held you back from being completely discreet. Your knee now moved up to his hip, allowing your core to spread open for Loki to receive easier access to your entrance.

“Allow me, if you please, to take possession of your body.” He begged, large hands roaming your back in a loving manner. You shivered as you understood his request, body turning around so that your bum was now facing his crotch. Lifting your left knee to your chest, Loki’s hands took ahold of your hips as his member aligned with your drippy entrance. You moaned silently, bum lifting against his pelvis in an attempt to sit down onto his cock on your own. Thankfully, the demigod took the initiative to push things himself by sliding his hardness inside of your throbbing cunt.

Feeling his bare member penetrate you easily led you to moan, legs spreading in the air as your knees moved up to your chest. Loki began to move his hips back and forth, veins appearing onto his neck as he focused on properly moving in and out of you. This position required a lot of efforts from your partner, yet it felt absolutely nice to you- his tip brushing against every single one of your sensitive spots. Loki’s abdomen remained contracted, winces and hisses escaping his lips as his veiny hands remained locked against your hips.

“Ah- fuck..” you whimpered sensitively, eyelids shutting close due to the undeniable amount of pleasure which filled your body the more your sexual partner thrusted in and out of your tight and clenching hole. Those unwilling mannerisms caused Loki’s shaft to twitch, his tip repetitively hitting your cervix as warm precum dripped from his sensitive urethra- mixing up with your own natural lubricants. The man’s lips collided with your neck, biting and kissing your skin with the help of all the lust which lurked within his body.

Your hand moved back to grip onto his neck, cheek rubbing against Loki’s as his eyebrows raised in that one infamous way of his. Soft pants now exited his parted lips, thrusts getting sloppier as your friend now began to have a hard time keeping up the pace. The kisses he offered your skin weren’t so lustful anymore, but mainly filled of all the love he was never able to properly offer to anyone before. This boy lacked physical and mental attention, which you hadn’t failed to notice through the many years spent in his mischievous company.

And finally, his hips locked against yours as his balls twitched, shaft throbbing as warm and sticky cum was expelled from his urethra. Moaning sensitively, you accompanied his musical rythme by allowing your own whimpers to exit your lips. His hands moved away from your hips, strong arms now wrapping around your waist to make sure you wouldn’t unexpectedly decide to break the physical contact- something that absolutely never crossed your mind. In fact, all you could think about was how nice this moment felt. So why would you ever decide to put it to an end?

Unfortunately, every nice things had an end, the intercourses ending when Loki pulled out of your cunt and allowed his cum to drip out of your entrance. Falling onto his back, he panted tiredly whilst your own self laid down onto your back, hand reaching down for his and allowing your digits to interlock with his larger ones. Sensing this new physical contact, his head turned towards yours, sad eyes staring into your soul. For a moment, he was able to feel your pain as you felt his.

I hope you enjoyed. Don’t hesitate to leave a request! ❤️ have a good evening/day my loves. Requested tag : @delightfulheartdream

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #marvel #marvel imagine #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston fanfic #Tom Hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston oneshot

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Chrysalis

Yandere!Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount:2115

CW:Yandere themes

Working for Albedo isn’t that bad - the payment is good, the knowledge he provides is even better - a chance to delve into exclusive alchemical research with a widely acknowledged genius is a far more valuable award than any amount of mora or jewels could ever be. Said prodigy isn’t an awful person to work with either - he’s polite and well mannered, careful not to offend anyone even if his words can be cold and cutting sometimes. Most of the time Albedo is a pleasant company to be around, if one would turn a blind eye to his quirks.

For instance, he has a weird and frankly unnerving habit of staring at you - his teal eyes track your littlest movements as you set up an alchemical apparatus and prepare needed solutions. At first you thought he was overseeing you, checking if you had made any mistake as a fledgling alchemist, yet this hypothesis was quickly disproved when you caught him gazing off working hours. You never voiced your complaints - you wanted to keep your job and study, and maybe he is too socially blind to see how his behavior could be received by others.

Today would also be a great example of an alchemist's lack of tact - he requested you accompany him everywhere for the last few weeks, taking you from the cold heights of Dragonspine to sunny and bustling streets of Mondstadt. You two are sitting in the corner of his laboratory designed for rest and food and share a meal: two portions of his favorite fish, despite being nothing more than the employer and employee or teacher and student.

Albedo doesn’t seem to get or mind what kind of rumours he causes with this seemingly blatant favouritism before you, no he looks as calm as usual as he plunges into the dish with fork and knife.

“[First]”, he says, after the first bite: “Have the aches stopped bothering you?”, a hint of concern and something else. Two or three weeks ago you developed a strange soreness in the different parts of your body - wrists, neck, heart, legs - it would appear suddenly, burning and throbbing and making you gasp, leaving you tired and nauseous afterwards. No one could find the source of the problem, not even Albedo, yet after some time these far from pleasant sensations got subdued, easier to bear and endure.

His hand reaches for your left wrist, thumb caressing the skin, and he pulls it closer to his face, eyes examining the sore spot. You don’t protest, stunned by his sudden action.

“Hm, that’s”, he mumbles, more to himself than you: “that’s good”, he concludes, letting go of your limb.

“What’s good? Did something change?” you inquire, instantly forgetting to take offense at his grabbing.

“You could say that”, Albedo ambiguously says and returns to his fish. You ask the alchemist what he meant, but all you get are even vaguer answers and long silence in the end, as he finishes his meal and nudges you to start your own sunshine sprat.

In the end your questions remain unacknowledged, as Albedo leaves displaying you to accompany him. Surprisingly he heads for the gardens instead of the library, his step light and fast. “Master Albedo” you start, seeing that alchemist is in his creative mood again: “shouldn’t you bring an easel or sketchbook with you?”

“No, [First], I don’t intend to draw, not now. This walk is for me to get some inspiration”, Albedo quickly replies, still walking ahead: “In this time of year the environment changes so rapidly, it provides a mind with a lot of good ideas. You should come with me too, alchemy is a science of change, creation and destruction and nature is better at these three aspects than any of us”. He adds, seemingly sensing the next question you would ask.

He walks near the bushes, teal eyes focused on the blooming fragrant flowers, before he squats, pushing some of the wigs back.

“[First]”, he turns his head in your direction: “you should come and see”. You comply, curious what has caught Albedo’s attention, squatting near him and looking at one of the inner branches usually hidden by others.

It’s an ordinary dark cocoon. You almost turn your head again, before the slightest of movements catches your attention - it’s an insect trying to break out. Chrysalis cracks and deforms as a fledgling butterfly makes way past it’s confines. One second and it stretches its wings, revealing a vibrant blue coloration, the next it leaves it’s former cell entirely, elegantly soaring into the air, it’s azure wings lazily flapping, as it makes its way to the other bush.

“Fascinating”, Albedo breathes out, eyes still on the disappearing figure of the insect: “It transformed to such a great extent”.

You hear a hint of excitement in his voice - he wants to share his thoughts or knowledge then - and nod, prompting him to continue.

“Did you know that a larva needs to literally dissolve itself to reach the next stage of its life? After caterpillar finishes its cocoon, it produces enzymes that turn most of its tissue into a liquid matter and only after that does it rebuilds into an entirely new form”, he turns his gaze back to you, usually cold and thoughtful eyes now warm and dreamy: “Sometimes, I think humans are meant to metamorphose too”.

“How so?” you ask, tilting the head.

“Humans, despite all complexity and intelligence, are still fragile creatures. They’re prone to sickness and ailments and in the end old age ends those who managed to evade death before. Wouldn't it be better if one could go through metamorphosis, be reborn free from pain and hunger and constant threat of passing away? Those humans could live on forever and dedicate themselves to the higher cause without having to worry about dying and suffering".

You raise eyebrows, surprised by the sudden “outburst” - Albedo, despite his partially philosophical nature, has never shared his inner thoughts so freely, not to you at least. He, either out of embarrassment or deep contemplation, shifts his eyes somewhere behind you, and you turn back, following his eyes. He looks at the statue of Barbatos.

Tall and proud, it looks magnificent in the day’s sunlight, golden rays making it glow and shine with the fairness of the marble. Looking at this epitome of unchanging vision, you suddenly get an answer to Albedo’s thoughts and you voice it out the same second:

“Wouldn’t it negate the meaning of life then? Nature breeds diversity - the reason why we have so many flowers is because some kinds aren't adapted to particular conditions and so they change, producing entirely new types of plants. Eternal and undying beings, unconcerned with the earthly matters would have no need to reproduce and pass on its features to the next generation, depriving the world of thousand possible combinations. No new life would be created if the old one could be perfectly sustained".

"That's how you see it", Albedo replies, placing a now empty husk of the cocoon inside your palm - the testament of the nature’s miracle, the testament of one's ability to change: “I’ve witnessed many wonderful sights for today”, he adds, still looking at you, surrounded by flowers and flying butterflies, light breeze playing with your hair and sun illuminating your whole figure with a gentle golden glow.

You part with Albedo shortly after - he closes himself in the lab, before checking up on your sore spots again, quietly mumbling something to himself the whole time. You head for your house and open the alchemical textbook, studying it until late night. That place on the wrist slightly throbs at every movement.

Only when your eyelids fill up with lead and thoughts slow down from the general fatigue you allow yourself to head for the bed, falling asleep the second your head touches the pillow. You see phantasmagorical dreams - of you being a bulging and large larva, spending days simply eating green leaves, until a strange urge overcomes your entire being and you start to build something - a cocoon. Now, surrounded by pitch black darkness you feel a burning sensation - enzymes, enzymes that will dissolve your tissue. Pain quickly escalates and you want to scream and cry, but you can’t - you’re an insect you don’t have vocal glands or tear ducts to do so. Who could have known that butterflies suffer so much?

You writhe and squirm, caged by your liquifying body and hard chrysalis around you and you are in so much agony you want to die.

And then you wake up. All sweaty and distressed you grab at your wrist - it hurts so much, your entire body is on fire, it seems that you have another episode of that strange soreness. You quickly rise to your feet, snatching the painkillers from the nightstand and downing them with a gulp of water. As medicine begins it’s work you lay in the bed again, ready to fall asleep and forget the midnight pains, as you see something that makes your breath hitch and heartbeat fasten from fear.

A strange greyish white discoloration on your wrist in the same place that used to throb this evening. You touch it and it leaves a dry white imprint on your fingers, it also doesn’t have any strange smell.

You rise and quickly dress up, barely suppressed panic and anxiety dispelling the last remains of sleep. The walk towards the Favonius HQ’s is short, especially when you break into a sprint on the way. He is here, he is working into the night today. Quickly passing sleepy knights you climb on the second floor and almost run to one particular door, loudly knocking at it.

Just as you expected, there’s a sound of footsteps and soon a familiar voice asks: “Who is here?”.

“It’s me, master Albedo”, you say, feeling how the pain returns despite the painkillers taken: “you said to report if something changes, with my aches. It changed”.

The words you say and desperation accompanying them prompts alchemist to open the door, as he gestures you to come in, and shut the door as you do so:

“Strip”, he says, mind back to the analytical mode, you comply, feeling ashamed with every second Albedo continues to observe you: “Wait, there’s something on your neck”.

A cool touch to your skin, a short yelp, another burst of pain. You fall on your knees, blinded and deafened by sheer agony. Alchemist produces a distressed noise, walking up to your collapsed figure and carrying you to the nearby table.

He pushes alchemical apparatus away, turning the table into a makeshift bed, and gently lowers you down. “[First]”, his hand card through your hair, while the other nudges a mug with some brew to your lips: “There’s nothing to worry about, your metamorphosis progresses as it should be”.

“Metamorphosis.. What are you talking about?”, you ask, panic creeping into the question. Alchemist looks you straight into the eyes, an eerie smile blooming on his face as he hears it: "Isn’t it obvious? You're going to change and I will help you with that".

“Change?! Change into what?”

“Into a better version of human of course. Do you think I would let you get old or sick and die? You’re too dear to me to do that, you should live and experience a life free from human limitations”, for the first time in your life you��re terrified of him. Albedo always seemed so knowledgeable and calm to you, like a wise wizard from the childhood fairytales, yet now he looks mad and devoid of any humanity:“You shouldn’t worry about these stains, they will disappear once your transformation is complete. Those are just chalk you see, a side effect of your tissues changing over the weeks”.

“When did.. When did you start it?”, you croak out, sensing the agony returning and growing again. It hurts so much I can barely think.

“Dragonspine. You were eating with me”.

You want to insult and accuse him, yet another wave of pain renders you speechless, short huffs and whimpers escaping you as tears start to stream down your face.

“I understand it can be very stressful to you, given how change of this scale is always carrying a great risk”, his voice adopts the same philosophical tone: “The purpose of cocoon is protection of the soon-to-be butterfly from the external harm and influence that could lead to other complications and we don’t want any of that”.

He cards his hand through your hair again, a mockery of a concern dyeing his next words: “You shouldn’t worry, I will be a good chrysalis to your metamorphosis”.

You black out from pain.

#yandere albedo x reader #Yandere Albedo #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Male yandere #Yandere x reader #Yandere #male yandere #my writing

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namfinessed · 3 years

Text

a lil bad - m.yg.

genre: fluff, angst (11.3k) e2l

summary: you hate min yoongi the most so how the fuck do you end up in his tattoo shop? (fools!universe)

masterlist series masterlist

you don’t know how it happens in every single party, but you always end up next to yoongi, grumbling and complaining but still with him beside you and even after several incidents of pouring drinks on each other and pretending it was a mistake, or just plain insulting each other right to your faces, or ruining dates for the other by fake flirting, you always end up next to him.

you never really understood your hatred for min yoongi, but it’s always been there, whenever you see him, you always either leave the room to not be around him at all or you start bickering with him until the day ends, it’s usually always the latter, he knows just how to rile you up, he knows just what to say to piss you right off, and you always give in to his stupid arguments.

and apparently, even right now, with all your friends dancing and enjoying themselves, you stand in the corner while idly mixing your drink slowly, and it takes everything in you to not roll your eyes when yoongi catches your eye across the room and starts his making his way over to you.

“what are you doing here, doll?” he asks, hands in pockets, his ever-present smirk settled nicely on his face, the nickname that falls from his mouth makes you roll your eyes, he’s been calling you that forever, no matter how many times you’ve complained and hit him for it.

you notice his tattoos peeking from the collar of his leather jacket which mirrors the one on your body. it is hard to not do a full head to toe scan when yoongi manages to look this good even as he’s half drunk.

you hate him but you’re not blind, you know that he is attractive and he knows it too, he knows it all too well.

“none of your goddamn business, min yoongi, get back to your friends.” your bitter reply is no surprise to him and that becomes evident with how he laughs at you and pulls himself up on the table you were resting on, looking down at you with pure amusement dancing in his eyes.

“they’re shit drunk, and i don’t want to deal with anyone vomiting all over me” he shrugs as he takes another swig and you turn to look at his friends who were falling over each other and laughing for no reason at all.

somewhere in you, you know that he’s lying, he wouldn’t mind if his friends vomit over him, he wouldn’t care even when he’s going to be the one who will drive them home after this and make sure that they’re safe but yoongi doesn’t need to know that you know about him.

“such a good friend” you dryly muse and walk away from him, only for him to jump off the table and follow you, you stop in your steps and he does too, making you grit your teeth and look at him with an evident glare in your eyes.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“none of your goddamn business, doll.”

yeah, you hate him. you take back every nice thought you’ve ever had about him.

he gives you an innocent smile and it takes everything in you to not strangle him. you swiftly turn the other way and speed walk till you’re outside the house, taking a deep breathe now that you’re free from the obnoxious people and music. just when you stretch your legs out to settle there for a bit, you see someone barging their way out, almost hitting your arm, you turn to curse them out just to see jimin come out from the same way, following the previous person.

you only know jimin because he works in namjoon’s bakery, and he’s in one of your classes, you’re friendly enough to greet each other but that’s it, so when you see him fighting with the person who barged out first, and the fight showing no signs of calming down, you roll your eyes at how stupid they sound, why can’t they just kiss already? you can literally feel the sexual tension in the air and they seem to be in absolute denial about it, but deciding that it was best to leave them alone, you unwillingly tip toe your way back into the house.

the party is still raging and loud and you can’t really distinguish who is who anymore, so you just push your way through the crowd, murmuring excuse me’s and curses to people who push you, only to find yourself in the living room where all your friends are gathered. they immediately perk up at your entrance, drunk smiles gleaming even in the darkness and you hate to admit that you sense some mischief in the air.

“i was looking for you, come here, sit down” jennie smiles as soon as she sees you and pats the seat next to her, you hesitantly sit and warily eye the bottle in the middle of the circle you’re sat at.

“what’s going on here?”

“we’re playing spin the bottle because we literally have nothing left to do” jisoo complains from opposite to you and you throw your head back with a groan, at the corner of your eye, you see yoongi walk in with his own friends and you don’t even want to look up again.

“how bored are you guys?” you complain but get comfortable in your seat anyway, it’s not like you were any less bored than they were.

“just say you’re too much of a wimp to play and leave already.” yoongi’s voice is crystal clear even with the loud music and everyone starts ooh’ing at his sentence, all of them were already used to your endless bickering and they always act like they know something you both don’t, you never cared enough to ask them anyway. you rolled your eyes before setting them on him with a bored expression.

“you’re still standing min yoongi, so who’s the real wimp here?” and now, everyone’s ooh’ing at you, he looks up at you with the same smirk that always annoys you and cocks an eyebrow before sitting directly in front of you, then pins you with only challenge clear in his eyes.

“okay, so the rules are pretty simple.” you look away from him and focus on listening to chaeyoung as she explains what exactly are the set rules.

“so when we spin the bottle, the people at the ends of the bottle either kiss each other or one of them gets to give a dare to the other, and the other cannot refuse” jisoo smiles at you as she plays with the bottle in her hand and you know what’s going on in her little head, she’s always been convinced that you have a crush on yoongi but you were close to vomiting on her when she told you that, she hasn’t backed down though and if you know her, she’s probably thinking this is some magical way to get you to kiss yoongi but you would jump into a well before that happens.

“the only person i want to kiss in this room is you” yoongi wears a wide, confident grin as he points to the random girl he’s been talking up since the beginning of the party and you watch with raised eyebrows as she blushes and buries her face into his shoulder.

poor girl, you wince to yourself.

and yoongi’s drinking up the affection, cooing at her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, not letting her go even as the bottle spins speedily and lands on taehyung and some girl you’ve seen around the campus, you have never really looked at her but she does seem a little out of place in the party, and you make a note to yourself to talk to her later, you hate that feeling of being isolated and you wouldn’t want her to feel that way.

everyone watches them with excited and curious eyes, taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at the girl who looks like she wants to run away, but then taehyung reaches over and whispers something into her ear and everyone erupts into cheers when he reaches for his hoodie on the floor and drops it on their heads, the hoodie comes off to reveal one flushed face and taehyung who is positively beaming. though the kiss is over, at least you assume it is over, everyone’s gaze lingers on the quiet girl who all but is biting on her lip and averting her gaze to the floor.

“stop making her uncomfortable and spin the bottle already” you say plainly as you leaned back on your hands, you could tell she wanted anything but attention, she just had a stiff posture and this was clearly new for her, so you decided to help her out. she flashed you a quick grateful look and you gently smile at her.

and the bottle kept spinning, most opted for the kisses, and each time someone would kiss, the entire room would be chaos, with people whooping and waving their hands, you bury your head into your hands each time that happens because you can’t believe most of these people are well in their 20’s and are still this excited over seeing their peers kiss but you enjoy the energy in the air, it’s familiar and being around your friends is something you’re always grateful for.

“wait wait yoongi didn’t spin the bottle” lisa points out along with chaeyoung and they both have happy smirks on their faces as everyone nods in agreement, soon cheering him on to spin it already and yoongi surrenders with raised hands.

the bottle spins and you hold your breath because you would do anything to not be at the other end of it.

you exhale in relief when it lands on who yoongi wanted it to land on, the girl who’s been around him all night, he just looks at her with a smile and she leans forward with sparkling eyes, and you look away just when the sound of smacking lips fills the air, immediately everyone starts shouting and that’s when you understand that maybe the kiss wasn’t innocent at all, you almost do a double take when you hear a silent moan in midst of all the chaos, looking back when the shouts die down to see the girls with pink cheeks and yoongi who had a proud smile on his face.

and you don’t know why, but at that moment, your annoyance for him touches the roof.

maybe because he was oozing confidence always?

maybe because it sounded like he was an incredible kisser?

maybe because he’s got someone blushing right next to him with just a kiss?

you don’t know and frankly you also don’t understand why you stand up from the circle right then, everyone’s eyes lands on you and you shift on your feet, you hate attention, and you particularly hate yoongi who immediately looks at you standing.

“i just need a refill, i will be back, you guys play” you gesture towards the kitchen and leave the living room with fast steps, you only let out a breath of relief once you’re in the kinda empty kitchen, it still has like 10 people but not one of them gives a fuck about you, which is exactly what you need.

you spot the tequila bottles but they are empty, making you groan out loud in frustration and you want to throw a chair into the window, because how the fuck do these people drink so fast? last time you were here, there were 10 huge, full bottles and they’re just gone now.

“fucking great” you mumble and squeeze your eyes shut as you lean back on the counter.

you don’t even want to go back to the circle and see yoongi’s face or the girl that he’s with who seems to blush about everything like who’s going to tell her that yoongi will probably drop her in a week?

you stomp your way back to the living room, and sit down with a huff, not looking at anyone, just letting the game continue around you and zoning out until someone asks you something.

your eyes don’t leave the bottle in the middle of the circle, staring as it spins and claims its victims, and you only snap out of your thoughts when jennie nudges you, you are a little startled when she pushes the bottle into your hand with a small smile.

“it’s your turn, spin it” she gently instructs, and you almost just want to cuddle her and go to sleep because she’s always been so nice to you and maybe it’s because you’re half-drunk and you’re mildly irritated by everything, but you feel so grateful to her soft voice.

but her words also make you pause, it’s your turn after god knows how many turns and you want to skip it, there’s no one in this room that you want to kiss.

“see, i told you, she’s a wimp” you glare up at yoongi as he stares you down, and with a grumble, you snatch the bottle from jennie’s hands and give it one rough spin. you silently pray that it lands on anyone but yoongi.

your heart almost pauses when it seems to slow down near yoongi, but then it tilts right at the last second, you feel lighter as you look up to see jisoo at the other end of the bottle, who has a cheeky smile on her face, you lean back with your won smile because you could just kiss her, it’s no big deal.

“so, kiss?” you raise your eyebrows at her and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, looking you up and down and you giggle at her fake horny expression.

“as much as i love kissing, i have a dare for you.” you eye her cautiously as she says this, why isn’t she just opting for the kiss?

“i’m not stripping down naked if that’s what you’re going to say” you deadpan, to lighten the tension in the room and everyone laughs, taking swigs of their drinks and someone yells party pooper.

“why can’t we just kiss and get it over with?” you whined when she stayed silent and jisoo shook her head happily as everyone’s ears and eyes focused on what would leave jisoo’s mouth, she smirks a little at their enthusiasm and your slightly scared expression.

“the dare is” she pauses for dramatics and you throw the bottle cap at her making her jump and giggle.

“okay okay, the dare is, you have to get a tattoo in yoongi’s shop by yoongi, he gets to choose which one too.”

she did not.

“i’m sorry, did i hear you right?” you leaned forward with a cocked eyebrow because jisoo wouldn’t do this to you.

right?

“i’ll go easy with the needle on you, doll” yoongi chuckles from his spot.

“shut the fuck up, min yoongi” you snarl at him and fix your gaze on jisoo again as she shrugs with a delighted smile on her face.

“hey, i could just kick you out from my store, you know that right?” you ignore his words with a roll of your tongue against your cheek and run a hand through your hair, this is far from how you wanted your night to go.

“are you going to back off from a dare, y/n?” chaeyoung raises her eyebrows at you and it feels like thye’ve definitely planned this shit from the start but the mocking in her tone doesn’t allow you to say no.

“fucking hell, i’ll do it.” you give in because again, you are never one to back off from a challenge. even if you’re really scared of needles, you can do this.

“who said i’m doing it for you?” he questions with narrowed eyes and everyone in the room breaks into scattered giggles.

“i’ll give you a month y/n, convince him and get it done.” jisoo says, triumph clear in her face and tone as she calmly hands the bottle to its next victim.

again, this isn’t how you wanted your night to go.

convincing yoongi, as it turns out, was the hardest thing you have ever tried to do, and you take history in college.

not only is he insanely stubborn, but it also feels like he seriously gets off from pissing you off every single time, because the minute you start to get somewhere with convincing him, he would say something stupid, you would curse him out and you’re back to square one with your mission.

it’s been a week since the party and you’ve got no progress on him.

“okay, i can do this, it’s just stupid yoongi” you encourage yourself lightly by tapping your shoulders in butterfly position, because there’s nothing else that calms you down from the inevitability of having to talk to him.

you’re not sure why you are doing so much for a dare, but it feels like this is the chance to prove to your friends that the only feelings you have for yoongi is hatred, you cannot have them thinking you like him when even the thought of him annoys you to the core.

but you’re still here, with a bag of tempura shrimp and fried rice because apparently that’s his favorite food, and as the old saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

now, if you were reached his heart, you would probably rip it out but you’re doing what you can to get the dare over with. you ring the bell and stand back, but nothing prepares you for the sight in front of you.

a girl in just a t-shirt, most probably yoongi’s, who’s definitely not his girlfriend.

didn’t they say the girl at the party became his girlfriend afterwards?

well, at least the girl looks just as surprised as you do, and she even starts getting teary eyed and that’s when you realized what this looks like, you brought him food, pretty early in the morning, you’re dressed up well because you just like to look good, and she could be assuming that she just slept with a taken man.

“doll, is that you?” yoongi’s voice comes from behind her and you grit your teeth in annoyance at his presence.

wait, where the fuck is his shirt?

you immediately avert your gaze from his bare skin and look at the girl in front of you who’s trembling, why the fuck did he call you doll with her right beside him?

“look, i know what this looks like but i’m not his girlfriend, i honestly hate him the most out of everyone i know, so you two are still fine, and gosh just wipe those tears please, i hate making people cry” you mumble the last part as the girl sniffles and nod while wiping the tears off her cheek, yoongi coos behind her and gives her a small kiss to the top of her head which makes her grin again.

he has a girlfriend, what is he doing?

you try so hard to hide the deep scowl on your face as you watch the sickeningly sweet exchange in front of you and tap your feet impatiently as you wait for them to finish.

“come in” yoongi says simply and disappears down the hallway with the girl, and you step in sheepishly, you look around the apartment and it’s surprisingly cleaner than you thought it would be, not knowing what to do with both of them gone, you enter the kitchen and plop down on a stool.

“i’ll call you later okay” you hear yoongi whisper and you slam your head on the table in front of you because that is a very sad attempt at a whisper, his whisper is loud as fuck, and it travels all the way to you, and you’re not a liar, his voice sounds hot, it’s husky, low and if someone whispers to you like that, you know that you will melt into a puddle.

you also hear the loud smack of a kiss and it takes everything in you to keep your ass planted on the stool and not run away from here.

the girl appears near the doorway of the kitchen and gives you a bright and happy wave, you wave back at her because as much as her tears surprised you, she still seemed friendly.

“so, what’s in that bag?” yoongi walks into the kitchen, thankfully with a shirt on, and you place the bag on the counter, not saying anything and letting him look through by himself.

“tempura shrimp and fried rice, are you trying to get me to ask you out?” yoongi chuckled as he pulled out the boxes and you frown at his statement.

“don’t flatter yourself” you mumble and pick your phone up to scroll as he sits down to eat, you notice him place a plate in front of you and look up in confusion.

“go on, serve yourself, i’m not doing that for you.” he gestures to the boxes with a wave of his hand.

“this is for you, more precisely for the tattoo.”

“i know doll, just eat the food.” if you aren’t wrong, you can hear some disappointment in his voice and he doesn’t even look at you as he says that, so you just shrug and take a box to fill half your plate with the food and continue to glance at him weirdly from time to time.

this feels strangely domestic, there is nothing but silence as you two eat but for once, you don’t want to strangle him to death, he doesn’t say shit to piss you off either, and the silence is comfortable, you thought it would be awkward to be in his apartment but you don’t feel that way at all.

“i’m still not doing your tattoo” yoongi says and the door shuts in your face as you stand outside his apartment with mouth agape and slumped shoulders.

then why was he being all nice just 10 minutes ago?

you kick the door with your foot and huff out in frustration because you really cannot think of anything else that could convince him.

what are you going to do now?

what could you possibly do now?

wait a minute.

his girlfriend.

“jisoo, are you sure that the girl from the party is still his girlfriend?” you almost yell into the phone to try and make your voice heard even with the loud traffic beside you and jisoo winces from the sound.

“yes, i’m sure, she was bragging about it in class today” you can hear how annoyed jisoo sounds though the phone and bingo!

you know just how to get yoongi to do your tattoo.

you get drowned in your own assignments the following week and don’t bother to look for yoongi, and honestly, you forget about the dare until your dear friends remind you at lunch when you were just trying to peacefully eat your food.

and you don’t even see yoongi around the campus anymore, he doesn’t even show up to the one class you have in common, but his attendance is obviously taken care of because of his friends who work in student council, you’re not going to lie, you are jealous of that, you would kill to miss some classes and still have your attendance intact.

“hey seokjin, wait up!” you spot yoongi’s friend down the hallway and you don’t really care that you literally look like a homeless person with your hoodie and loose shorts, you didn’t run all the way across campus to care about how you look, you need to know where the fuck min yoongi is so you can blackmail him and just finish the dare.

“hello y/n” he faintly smiles while sipping his coffee, how does he still look good when he’s tired though? if it weren’t for the fact that he was taken, you would definitely try to get with him but your chance is over. you feel a little self-conscious with your less than appropriate outfit and his polished look, but that shouldn’t be your concern right now.

“where is yoongi? he hasn’t been coming to classes.”

“why do you want to know? don’t you hate him?” he narrows his eyes at you and you slump a little, how many people knew of the fact that you hate each other? it’s not like you can blame them, you both fight in full parties, word is bound to travel.

“i do, i just have something to ask him.”

“is it really important?” he fixes you with a more serious look and you almost feel nervous before clearing your throat and nodding fiercely.

“yes, it is.”

“he’s been hanging out at our friend’s music studio for a while now, you can find him there, i’ll text you the address” and with that, jin blends into the crowd of people around you while you stay frozen.

what does yoongi do in a music studio? you wonder silently with your head tilted as you walk to your next class.

maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

the music studio wasn’t too far away your campus, and you could walk there even with your heavy backpack, you huff once you reach the run-down building, staring at it with curiosity filled in your eyes.

you definitely didn’t know anything about yoongi and music, sure you knew that he was a phenomenal piano player and also that he was very shy about it, you’ve only ever seen him play once and it was only because he was pretty drunk then.

you look around to try and find the room that jin told you about, brushing past several strange looking men but they are the least of your worries, you have dealt with idiots all the time at the bar and in parties, you will beat someone up if they mess with you.

“doll, what the fuck are you doing here?” you hear his irritated voice and silently heave out in relief because you immediately feel safer than you did just a minute ago.

“i should be asking you that.” you look at him with raised eyebrows and watch as he runs a hand across his face exasperatedly, only to march over to you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with him.

if it were any other man dragging you around like this, you would break their wrist but this was yoongi, you trust yoongi, and as much as you hate him, you know yoongi would never hurt you.

he pushes the two of you into a room and closes the door behind him, you immediately snatch your wrist from his grip and rub at the spot he gripped too hard.

“okay, you didn’t have to do that.” you mumble while massaging your sore wrist.

“what are you doing here?” he doesn’t hesitate to jump right into it.

and you want to bring up his girlfriend but he looks pretty annoyed, you’re not sure if this is the time to push his buttons even more.

“i just, i was around but the real question is, what are you doing in a music studio?” you throw the question back to him and quickly scan the room you’re in right now, there’s a sound system, a keyboard, some speakers lying around and other equipment you know nothing about.

“i don’t have to tell you that” he deadpans and you retaliate a little, your posture faltering at his firm tone because while yoongi has always been rude to you, there’s a certain coldness to his voice right now that you just don’t recognize.

“you’re right, you don’t.” he really doesn’t. and now, everything you’ve done looks stupid to you, like taking food to his home and meeting some random girl, chasing seokjin on campus even when you don’t have any familiarity with him just to find about yoongi and even refusing to back down from a dare that you could just deny.

you don’t think you’re doing this for the dare anymore.

yoongi sighs when he sees your rigid posture and head hung low because damn it, he feels bad for being mean to you and he never feels bad about being mean to you, being mean to you just comes naturally to him but you just look so small right now, the air of pride and arrogance that you usually carry isn’t around you anymore and yoongi doesn’t know what to do.

“how did you find out?” he asks finally, taking a seat near the equipment and you don’t want to tattle on jin but you have no choice.

“just asked around.” you still tried to cover up jin’s name and yoongi raises his eyebrows at you like he doesn’t believe you.

“fine, seokjin told me” you squeeze out and you just hope that jin isn’t the type to hold grudges.

“you really went all the way to jin to ask about me?” jin is across campus from you, which explains why you don’t know him all that well but you did find out where jin is, just to ask him about yoongi.

but yoongi doesn’t need to know about that.

“don’t think too much about it, i had a class on that way.” you stubbornly lie through your teeth.

“no, you don’t” yoongi spins around in his chair to gather some notes in front of him.

“what?”

“you don’t have a class that way y/n, we both know that.” how the fuck does he know that?

“why didn’t you just ask me? or come to my apartment? you’ve already been there and i truly don’t understand why you went all the way to jin to ask about me.” yoongi’s words are softer, a lot less cold than before, and a lot more like the yoongi you know. which causes the return of your unfaltering confidence.

“i don’t know your number, and i didn’t want to intrude on you in your apartment again.” you answer honestly.

“but you think it’s okay to intrude on me in my studio?” the mocking in his tone doesn’t go past you and for a second, you don’t know what to say but if you’re talented in anything, it has to be the fact that you’re insanely good at changing subjects.

“speaking of the studio, what are you even doing in this studio? don’t you have a tattoo shop to take care of?” you huff and sit down on a nearby stool. you know that you’ve done a wonderful job at changing the topic because yoongi stills in his seat, not a sign of movement from him.

“or you know, just don’t tell me i guess” you add with a petty tone which has him sighing once again and turning in his seat.

“you’re really pushing the limit here, doll.” it sounds like he’s warning you but you have never been one to give a shit about his warnings.

besides, you always thought you knew yoongi, like really know him and as it turns out, you know nothing at all which has you craving to know everything.

“haven’t i always done that?” you flutter your eyelashes at him dramatically which draws a small smile on his face, it’s a rare smile, you’ve only ever seen him smile like that with his friends or when he’s flustered.

interesting.

“fine, i will tell you” you immediately jump in your place, leaning forward to listen with the utmost attention, eyes wide open and lips pursed because you can’t believe mysterious man of the campus (he gave that title to himself last year) is finally opening up to you.

“you can’t tell anyone else, you have to promise me that” the seriousness in his voice tells you he’s definitely not joking around anymore and you aren’t going to do that either, so you sit up straight and nod obediently.

“my tattoo shop, to put in one way, was a rushed decision doll, i don’t know why i thought it would be a good idea but i thought as long as it brought in money for me, i don’t have to worry about anything else but i was wrong. i was so wrong.” admitting his mistake to you, his enemy basically, takes a lot of courage and you can’t help but feel a little touched that he shared it with you. and that he’s willing to share more.

“the income was great, but it isn’t where my heart is at, you know? even the course in college right now, i don’t feel anything towards it but music, ah music makes me feel everything i’ve ever wanted to feel.” yoongi doesn’t know why he feels so comfortable telling you all this when all your previous conversations have been catty comments to each other but when he looks at you listening to him sincerely, he feels like he can tell you anything.

“you probably know that i play the piano?” you nod enthusiastically, finally it was something you knew about him.

“yeah i do, you’re good even when you’re drunk.” you beam at him and he laughs at the stupid grin on your face.

he feels like he’s the teacher here and you’re the teacher’s pet.

but he knows if he says that out loud, you will probably kick him in the leg. and yoongi hates bruises so he shoves that happy thought to the back of his head, he will laugh about it to himself later.

“i’ve been writing songs forever now doll, and i’m finally getting somewhere with it, i’m going to hand over the tattoo shop to my sister and jungkook who are more passionate about it than i will ever be.”

he looks regretful almost, like he started something he couldn’t finish but you see yoongi in a new light now, writing songs, producing music, it isn’t child’s play, you know that a lot goes into putting your emotions into words and you admire yoongi for how honest he was with you even if he didn’t have to be.

“and focus on music full-time?” you ask gently and he nods.

“that is the plan, yes.”

so, this could be why he shut the door on your face even after the tempura prawns and fried rice, he’s going to stop working at the shop soon.

“isn’t jungkook that guy who is friends with jimin?” you distinctly remember jungkook’s name from somewhere but you can’t remember where you’ve seen him.

“yeah, they work at namjoon’s bakery together.” yoongi provides you your answer easily and you snap your fingers, you saw jungkook when you went to get a muffin from namjoon, he told you he would give you a discount and you couldn’t say no to that.

“that’s where i saw him, i remember now.”

yoongi stays silent, drumming his fingers against his leg and thinking by himself, he looked insanely attractive even with that stressed look on his face, he’s even wearing torn jeans today for heavens’ sake and you feel a little hot, you pick at your collar to try and cool your warming body down.

you can’t let him know the effect he has on you.

“you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone, i won’t. your secret’s safe with me” you smile at him and he gives you a grateful look before rubbing his palms on his legs, he doesn’t know what to say anymore and he feels weird just leaving himself completely vulnerable to you but yoongi trusts you, he might hate you but he still trusts you to not be that cruel.

“so, what did you come here for?” he asks, leaning back on his chair and you freeze.

how are you going to tell him that you came all the way here just to blackmail him after he’s told you his passion-filled story?

“it’s nothing important, don’t even worry about it” you wave your hand dismissively with a nervous chuckle leaving your lips and like always, yoongi doesn’t believe you.

“it must have been pretty important if you ran to jin to ask him where i am” he points out and you hate that he’s right.

“it is not important at all.” you lamely respond and yoongi cocks his eyebrow before leaning over and grabbing your stool and pulling him towards you, so that you’re face-to-face with each other.

your heart literally stops beating when his eyes meet yours, his are filled with steely determination and you’re sure that your eyes have wimp written all over them, just what yoongi always called you and it doesn’t help that you can’t think with his breath fanning over your face in hot flashes.

“i-i told you, it’s not important” you whine lightly and yoongi has an easy grin on his face because of your stutter.

“just say it, doll.” the command in his tone is really something you can’t ignore, because not only does it make you shiver, but it also puts you on autopilot to do what he asks.

“i know that the girl that you were with, in your apartment the other day, isn’t your girlfriend” you breath out and your heart returns to its pace when yoongi lets your stool go with a frown.

“girlfriend?”

“your girlfriend is the one from the party so i’m saying that i know you’re cheating on her with that other girl.” you don’t know why you keep talking but you do, you wish you would shut up already because yoongi finally isn’t that much of a mystery anymore and blackmailing him will just put his walls up again, but you don’t shut up.

“what are you trying to do, y/n?” with the lack of his usual nickname, the sentence seems colder, just like the tone he used when you first walked in.

and that’s when you know that any and all progress you’ve made with him is gone in the dust, you think might as well just destroy it all while you’re at it.

“i will keep my mouth shut near your girlfriend if you just finish my tattoo” you have never felt more stupid in your life, because you’re doing all this while you’re fully conscious, at least when you’re drunk, you have an excuse.

“so, you would tell on me if i didn’t do that tattoo for you?” you feel even more like an idiot when he puts it that way but you remind yourself pathetically that you hate him, and you don’t care what he thinks of you, so you nod a simple yes.

“wow doll, you play a nice game, huh?” he chuckles darkly as he throws his head back and you know that while his words might be funny, his tone and expression are anything but.

you shouldn’t feel guilty about this but you do, there’s this sinking feeling in your chest that whatever you’re doing right now, is not worth it.

just when you open your mouth to take back the words you’ve said and apologize and reassure him that you see him with more respect now, that his story and secret will forever be safe with you, that you admire his passion, you don’t get the chance to when yoongi shuts you up with his.

“fine, i’ll do your stupid tattoo, now get out of my studio.” your heart sinks at his blunt words and he says them while not looking at you at all, you know that you deserve it though which is why you shamefully nod and turns towards the door, leaving him alone in his studio again.

the next few days are a blur, and you’re back at some stupid party.

you needed to forget.

but as much as you tried to push yoongi away from your thoughts, there’s this nagging feeling that claws at you, you don’t understand why you feel as guilty as you do, but it doesn’t go away, it increased each time he saw you in campus and turned his head away like you were nothing to him.

and you hate that you’re nothing to him, you were at least an enemy before but now, he disregards you so easily.

why do you want to be something to him?

you aren’t stupid enough to bring up the tattoo though, you just figured you would give him the chance to tell you or just not get it at all, you are not going to run your mouth again.

“oh, jin’s here, did you hear about his girlfriend? i heard she’s trouble” you hear someone mumble next to you, and you immediately look up to see yoongi with jin and some other friends you don’t recognize, he doesn’t see you though and you want to hide away, you don’t want to see him just yet.

you duck your head low, clutching your red solo cup in your hand and moving away from his line of sight, the only place you know that is safe from everyone in this party is the balcony upstairs so you inform your friends that you’re going to get some air and leave.

as soon as you open the door, you welcome the fresh air that greets you, the night is especially cold and windy but you love it, you just tug your leather jacket closer and lean your body on the railing as you think back on everything that’s been happening.

why did you open your mouth in the studio?

why did you go to the studio at all?

why are you so desperate to prove your friends wrong?

maybe your friends were right? that can’t be though, you don’t like yoongi that way. or at least, you don’t know if you do.

you bite your lip once you feel tears of frustration pooling in your eyes because you brought this on yourself and you don’t even understand why you are so mad about this like yoongi used to mean nothing to you or did you just think he meant nothing to you?

you really want to call off the dare because at this point, it’s gotten too far.

“it’s freezing here, come back in.” you stiffen at the sound of yoongi and don’t even turn around, you just wish he goes away because of how you’re ignoring him. you hear steps and you almost sigh in relief, thinking that he left but when the steps keep getting louder, you turn around confusedly only to see yoongi walking towards you. he reaches where you stand as you hold your breath and he just looks at you while you look away with flushed cheeks.

“this isn’t the time to be stubborn doll, just come in.” he lightly scolds you and you huff out in frustration.

“why don’t you go in?” you snap, finally looking at him and almost instantly shrink back down because you’re really in no position to give him an attitude. yoongi clenches his jaw, trying hard to mask his annoyance because he doesn’t understand why he can’t get his feet to just move and leave you alone like you clearly want him to.

“i told you i will do the damn tattoo, why are you still being a bitch?” his words are like a harsh slap to your face, does he really think you’re still going on about the tattoo?

“this isn’t about the fucking tattoo, yoongi!” you yell at him, throwing your hands in the air and running a hand though your hair, almost pulling too harshly at the roots.

“then what is it about?” he crosses his arms over his chest, taking more steps towards you and looks at you sternly, and you don’t know what to tell him.

“you won’t understand” you shake your head pathetically, now even more confused with the close proximity you two shared but yoongi doesn’t move, he stays right where he is, so close to you that you feel dizzy.

“you don’t know that” he fires back and up close, you can see his frown getting deeper. the tension in the air is high and both of you are breathing heavier than necessary and your eyes stay glued on each other, if you moved a little more, you would be fully leaning on him and even from your position, you can feel his body heat.

“i used to think you meant nothing to me and all you’ll ever be is someone who will drive my nail to the wall, but turns out, i was fucking wrong about that, i was wrong and i can’t stand being nothing to you and you definitely don’t mean nothing to me anymore, and i don’t even know why i’m telling you all of this when you obviously don’t give a shit.” you hold your gaze as you try to put your emotions into words, it’s a mess but you feel lighter, things are ruined anyway and all you want to do right now is pull him close to you and just hold him all night even as you’re yelling at him, as fucked up as that sounds.

“do you really want to know what’s going on?” your voice is reduced to a mumble as your eyes shift from his eyes and move towards his lips, his gaze travels with yours and his eyes land on your lips too, and before he could let another breath out, you pull his collar to you and tilt your head to meet his lips.

yoongi responds immediately, his hands snaking around your waist to squeeze your hips and pulling you closer till your chest met his, as your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tugging lightly, just enough to make him groan lowly, and the sound sends a shiver down your body.

neither of you pull apart for air, just letting yourself getting lost in him, in the taste of him that you’ve been unknowingly chasing for so long, and every touch he leaves on your body feels like a trail of fire that burns bright.

kissing yoongi was probably the best thing you’ll ever experience in your life.

and you’re scared to pull away because you know that nothing will ever be the same again, you just want to stay in this moment for as long as you can, forever if you can, avoid reality for as long as you can.

but of course, not all of your wishes come true.

you eventually push lightly at his chest to gasp for air, fingers curling around his shirt, you don’t want to let go and he leans his forehead on yours, breathing heavily as well, his eyes are tender as they watch you catch your breath, his hands leave your hips and gingerly reach out to tuck your hair back into place, all while his eyes never leaves yours and everything feels so intimate and delicate, like it’s just you and him in this night, every sound, anyone else are all white noise.

“yoongi” you mutter as you slip your fingers away from his hair and he shakes his head, taking your hand in his and holding it to the side of his face.

“please don’t say anything” there is pleading in his tone, a wish that you owe him for all the times you’ve fucked up so you do as he says, you let him caress your hands as his forehead never leaves yours, but he isn’t looking at you anymore, you don’t complain though because this way, you can look at him all you want and he will never know.

but after a while of just letting the wind embrace you two, you decide that you can’t live in this feeling forever, especially when everything feels so confusing and neither of you have a clue about what is going on, the only thing you know is that you’re in each other’s arms and that’s it, that’s all you know.

and that’s not enough.

“yoongi, your girlfriend” you whisper painfully, your heart is caught in your throat when his fingers pause on your skin, slowly retracting back to himself and he leans away from you, hands still loosely gripping your fingers, you already miss his warmth enveloping you. but you can’t be selfish, it’s no longer only both of your hearts that are involved.

“we can’t do this.” you pull yourself away from him and wipe the corners of your eyes that almost leak your tears, yoongi doesn’t say anything, but his silence is his surrender to the situation, you take his silence to be his agreement with you, that this isn’t okay.

taking his silence and compliance as your answer, you leave before your heart breaks even more than it already has.

you walk around like a breathing shell around the campus, regretting nothing and everything at the same time.

you don’t regret kissing yoongi, you don’t think you ever will but you regret how it happened, you regret the situation you put the two of you in.

but he kissed you back, that’s what confuses you the most, you fully expected him to tear away from you and curse at you while wiping his lips but he didn’t, he kissed you back, like actually pulled you closer till you couldn’t feel anything but him.

you want to ask him why he did that, but you can’t. you can’t look at him without feeling complete humiliation because you might have just been another girl for yoongi, another girl for him to cheat on his girlfriend with and you feel…worthless.

and you also broke girl code, something you firmly believed in, or at least used to believe in, you want to talk to his girlfriend and tell her so that she won’t be constantly lied to but you also don’t want to get involved with yoongi again.

you push your books away with a groan and throw your pen on the desk you’re sat on; you can’t concentrate for shit and you really just want to disappear for a few days. when your phone dings, you almost throw it out the window because you told your friends that you needed space after they saw you looking dull at the party and you aren’t in the mood to party and forget even if that sounds lovely.

you grab your phone with a frown and squint at it when the bright light blinds you for a second, you curse yourself and reduce the brightness to see a message from an unknown number.

from: xxxxxxx

tomorrow, 9 in the morning, get the tattoo done or forget about it.

you just stare at the screen for a few minutes, it’s definitely him, even through the text messages, you know that it’s him, and he’s offering to do the tattoo? even after everything?

it isn’t right to go for it but you’ve got a dare to finish, right?

genius lab ended up being so far away from your apartment, that by the time you got to the front of it, you were heaving like a pregnant women, and you heavily grasp the handle of the shop, pulling it open with all the strength you have left. you stumble in to see a pretty empty shop, it is a working day so that isn’t a surprise, you wipe the sweat off your forehead as you look around for yoongi.

what are you even going to say?

‘hello, the kiss was great and i still feel weak from it but let’s forget that happened because that basically was just you cheating on your girlfriend?’

that doesn’t sound right.

“y/n, right?” you look up to see a younger, handsome man at the counter.

“jungkook?” he smiles and nods his head, extending his hand towards you, you shake it with a smile of your own and you really shouldn’t be smiling, considering your situation but jungkook has a very infectious aura, very bright and filled with joy.

you like him already.

“yoongi hyung is in the back room, he told me to tell you to go there” he gestures towards the other end of the room and you want to turn and run away from here, because as far as you can tell, the back rooms are private places meaning it’s just going to be you and yoongi.

your original plan was to look at other customers as you get yours done but how can you look at anything in a room if yoongi was going to be the only person in there?

“is that so? then i’ll get going in there, good luck here jungkook” you give him a nervous smile and he beams at you with a nod, eyes shining and you coo at how adorable he looks before you take a deep breath to calm yourself and slowly walk towards the room.

you’re only here for the tattoo and nothing else, you won’t talk with yoongi at all or even look at him, just let him do the tattoo and leave.

there you go, perfect plan.

you push against the door with your hip, peeking in to see yoongi with his back to you and you take a quick step back, clutching your hand on your racing heart, you haven’t even seen him fully but you’re not sure if you can stop yourself from lunging at him.

“are you just going to stand there, doll?” just as you’re about to tip-toe your way out of the tattoo shop and hopefully move to a remote island where you don’t have to worry about anyone, yoongi calls you out, with his back still to you.

how did he even know that you were there?

you clear your throat a little and step into the room, the walls are white and there’s a few boards filled with drawings here and there, and then there is yoongi who apparently has decided to wreck you by wearing torn jeans and a black hoodie.

the outfit isn’t special by any means but you already feel weak in the knees.

you decide to walk over to him with your knees still wobbly and your breath shakier than it was and look over his shoulder to see him working on a tattoo design, probably yours, you lean over to see it properly and gasp at the delicate baby’s breath drawing, your favorite flower.

“i didn’t draw it, my sister did” he mumbles as continues tracing it carefully.

“your sister is talented” you say honestly and he hums in agreement.

okay, so you two are going to act like yesterday didn’t happen, you can definitely go along with that.

“stop loitering doll, just sit down on the chair” he can’t focus when you’re walking around him with big, curious eyes and a small smile dancing on your lips, and he feels bad when you sigh in disappointment and silently walk to the big chair in the middle of the room.

but he can’t do anything about it, he expected you to be your usual self and fire back at him but you didn’t and he doesn’t have a good feeling about that.

he heads over to the chair with the tattoo design ready in his hands, he instructs you to lay down and makes sure you’re fully comfortable and his side keeps pressing against your body as he leans over to prepare things for the tattoo and it takes everything in you to not kiss him again. so, you keep yourself busy, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“you’re going to have to look at me if we’re doing this, y/n” he says and you lift your gaze to see him looking at you with a face you can’t read or decipher but you hold his stare as he circles around you to flicker some lights on you.

“where do you want the tattoo?” he asks, pushing his sleeves up, to reveal scatters of small tattoos all over his arms and you gulp at the visible veins on his hands.

“i get to choose?” you raise your eyebrows and he shrugs.

“well, it’s your body doll, i think it was cruel enough to make you do this, so yes, you do.”

you do know where you want to get it, you always thought that if ever, one day, you decide to be brave and get a tattoo, there’s one spot you’ve wanted it to be but you’re not sure if yoongi will be okay with it.

do you really want to push your luck here?

“are you sure you’re comfortable with anywhere?” you decided to ask him and he frowns at you like there’s an obvious answer.

“yes, that’s my job.”

“right” you purse your lips and nod as he looks at you expectantly.

“i want it on the side on my waist” you whisper and yoongi drops his head with a chuckle.

“doll, do you want to kill me?” and your face heats up at his tone and at the way he looks up with a smirk, nodding while putting on his gloves.

“then you will have it on the side of your waist, you have to push your shirt up by a lot, like right under your bra and hold it there, understood?” you do a double take at his straightforward tone, like talking about your bra is totally normal but you just bob your head hastily and agree to whatever he’s saying, trying to not make a big deal out of it but you’re sure that your red face is a dead giveaway.

“okay, lay on your side” he places his hand on your shoulder and gently pushes you back on the reclined seat, and you huff deeply because it’s only now dawning on you that you’re getting a tattoo done by yoongi, it’s going to be on your waist and you feel stupid for not just going for your arm. you stiffen under him and watch with wide eyes as he places the needles on the table, those look painful and you’re genuinely terrified now.

“scared of needles?” you nod numbly to his question, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get rid of the image of those needles.

“it’s whatever, it’s fine” you breath out but your body definitely gives you away, your hands are shaking and you’re sure that you feel dizzy.

“doll, take it easy, it’s going to be over in no time and just remember to breath properly during it” when he gets no response from you, and your eyes are still closed, he realizes how scared you are.

“you want me to distract you?”

“please.” you mumble and he wordlessly lifts your shirt for you because you don’t look like you’re going to move but he keeps his eyes on your face while he does that, carefully tucking your shirt under your arm to keep it from moving away and if you weren’t as scared as were right now, you would have noticed the goosebumps that rise everywhere his touch reaches.

he gently holds your shirt in place and places the drawing on your skin, putting it flat and rubbing it slowly so that it would transfer well, and you feel weirdly hot, he’s just doing his job but you really want to just grab him and take him right there.

“okay, i will draw over this and then we will get to the actual tattoo” you actually shiver a little when you feel one of his hands tracing the design and the other slightly pulling on your skin so that it stays taut and you don’t know why the fuck you agreed to this because you’re clearly suffering here.

“what do you think of weird food combinations?” he suddenly asks once he’s done with the tracing.

“some are alright, i guess” you answer and then you hear the sound of the drilling needle causing you to let out a low whine and bury your face into the seat you’re lying on.

you should have stayed home, even the sound is freaking you out.

“which ones, according to you, are acceptable?”

“i don’t think mint chocolate is as bad as people make it out to be.” he scoffs at your response, making you frown.

“what is your problem?” you snap at him and yoongi smiles because you’re finally talking to him like you always do, he would recognize that tone of yours anywhere.

“mint chocolate is horrible, doll, i thought you had taste.” he clicks his tongue at you and you immediately go on a rant about how mint chocolate is too hated of a flavor and that at the end of the day, it’s just food and everyone has different tastes.

somewhere in the middle of your rant, yoongi looks at you fondly, you’re always so passionate about everything, even the simplest things, you make it sound and feel like how music affects him, and just as you’re almost done with your rant, he presses the needle on your skin making you yelp and you would’ve jumped and ended up scarring your skin if it weren’t for his hands holding you down.

this hurts this hurts this hurts.

it’s all you can think of as he slowly moves the needle around, looking at you every once in a while to check if you’re okay.

“i never got to tell you this but i think you following your passion with music is really cool and i really respect you for that, i hope you know that i will always support you on it.” you breath out quickly and if you weren’t here, yoongi would’ve cried because he appreciates your words so much, he pats your head in thanks, mumbling how grateful he is and it’s delicate, just like your first kiss.

it doesn’t last long though.

“you know, a food combination i like is french fries and vanilla ice cream.” your mouth drops open at his words, that sounds nasty as hell.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he laughs at your scrunched up face.

“what the fuck do you mean by french fries and vanilla ice cream?” you practically growled at him while looking at him with pointed eyes, can this tattoo be done anytime soon?

“don’t say shit when you haven’t tried it.” he smirks at your annoyed expression and you just glare at him.

“i don’t have to try that monstrosity to know that it tastes like trash.” you snap at him with raised eyebrows and just when he is about to reiterate with another comment, you unconsciously move, you hear him tut and hold you back down with a strong grip.

“sit still doll, or i might just drive this needle into your nerves and leave you paralyzed for life.” you know his warning doesn’t mean shit but you stay silent and stop moving anyways.

wait, you haven’t felt pain for the past five minutes, and you realize it’s because yoongi distracted you, he could’ve just done his job and leave you to suffer alone but he didn’t, and your heart swells a little.

that was sweet of him.

“how did you know that i like baby’s breath?” yoongi pauses with the needle but then continues like nothing happened at all.

“asked around” he casually replies and you roll your eyes, of course he would say that.

“yoongi, we need to talk about what happened in the party” you nervously but finally address the elephant in the room, biting your lip once the pain increases again.

“when i have a needle in my hand, really?” he looks up with an exasperated expression and you nod.

“with a needle in your hand, yes.”

“doll, all i’ve got to say is, i don’t know why you think i have a girlfriend” he laughs a little as he continues moving the needle against your skin.

wait what?

“what?”

“wait a second, your tattoo is almost over” you let him finish up while you are lost in your own thoughts, you are once again confused about everything and you don’t even feel the pain anymore, he places a patch over the tattoo after you get a look of it and you have to admit, he might not have passion in this but he’s surely talented.

he helps you sit up slowly, holding both of your hands firmly and pulling you forward till your legs almost wrapped themselves against his waist, he doesn’t let go of your hands though.

“i don’t have a girlfriend, and the only reason i let you go that night was because you didn’t look like yourself, i didn’t want to take advantage of you when you were that emotionally vulnerable, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you that dull.” he speaks sincerely and you know that he’s honest but you’ve still got so many questions.

“so, what about the girl from the previous party? the one where we played spin the bottle?”

“she wasn’t my girlfriend, i didn’t even sleep with her that night.” he shook his head as he said it and you narrow your eyes at him.

“well, she doesn’t know that because she’s bragging to everyone that you’re her boyfriend” you poke a finger at his chest accusingly and he chuckles.

“let her, i know who’s i want to be and it’s not her” your cheeks flush when he looks at you pointedly as he says that, you clear your throat and sit up straighter, taking this new information gracefully and doing a little happy dance in your heart, you wrap your arms around his neck and plays with the ends of his hair as he can’t help but grin at you.

“what about at the studio? you got so mad” you mumble sadly because you still remember how heartbroken you were that day and yoongi sighs, patting your cheek and rubbing his thumbs in circles on them.

“well, girlfriend or not, i didn’t like that you blackmailed me, doll. i had just opened up to you and you hit me with that so yeah, i was mad but i’m not anymore, okay? i know how stupid you can be sometimes” he adds the last part teasingly and you immediately gasp, pulling away from him and hitting his chest though a huge smile blooms on your face. yoongi laughs happily as you continue to try to hit him as he dodges.

eventually he gets tired of moving away from you, so he grabs your hands in his and pulls you closer till your lips meet his, your wrists stay captured in his hands as you kiss him back with every bit of your nerves ignited with a fresh need, you pull away from him with a small giggle while he wears a dopey grin.

“i hate you so much” you mumble against his lips with a huge grin, but like any other time, you don’t have a scowl on your face nor do you mean those words at all, he hums in agreement, pecking you one more time and cupping your face in his hands.

“trust me doll, i hate you so much more” he coos at you and you laugh at him because you know he doesn’t mean it either, you know that the word hate is just a replacement for love when it comes to the two of you, the way his eyes sparkle at you with a newfound joy tells you enough, and your laugh only gleefully extends once he starts peppering kisses all over your face as you try to swat him away.

so yes, you hate yoongi a lot, you hate min yoongi the most.

to: jisoo

the dare’s done, you can get off my ass about it! and guess who has a boyfriend now? 😉

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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Boys over flowers [Genshin Impact/Various x Reader] Part 2

Not everything had to be about fighting. Ahem Childe.

Genre: fluff, angst(?)

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Xiao

{Zhongli}

Out of all the bountiful possessions in the land he carved with his very own hands, the glaze lily had always been his favourite.

This flower was a nostalgia stained with time. As much as he loved them, the love he felt was more of a bittersweet sadness if anything. The loss of a friend, his mentor, someone he cherished so deeply, all of it was held into a single glaze lily.

Once as Morax, now as ordinary Zhongli, in those 6000 years he had seen it all. Even his grief for Guizhong faded into a memory.

Sometimes Zhongli felt like he was reading from a story book. Detatched while staring through an omniscient standpoint. It seems that his infinite years brought both experience and lonliness along the way.

"Zhongli? What are you staring at?"

But not when he was with you.

The glaze lily went on many journeys when he met you

He remembers the first encounter on a sunset night just as the petals were about to bloom. You were there, crouched down, staring into his golden eyes.

“This is for you! Not many can be fully matured like this so make sure to take good care of it,” You held it out to him and he takes the stem out of your hold.

“A parting gift, I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Zhongli sees it as a sign of a new contract, “It seems you possess a good eye when you were selecting them.”

He remembers the bouquet you presented during his birthday, the garland you placed on his head when he was reading, the vase by his desk always filled to the brim whenever you’d pay a visit to his parlour.

He remembers how the blue petals scattered across the floor the day you two married, everywhere he went so did this flower. Everytime he saw this flower, he thought of you.

Was it okay to feel like this? No one can ever replace Guizhong, was it okay to love again even when this being was much more perishable than she was? Zhongli was use to the experience of tragedy and loss as it was part of life.

Ah, so this must be what it feels like to live like a mortal.

To cherish every passing moment knowing that it won’t last forever. He will embrace it to the end.

Old memories that were once dust rose from the soil, now reborn into a new beginning. Your curious gaze leans closer to his profile, sitting side-by-side under the blankets of your shared bed, the corners of his lips lift into a small smile.

“I’m only reminiscing, my dear. You don’t need to worry for me.” He kisses your forehead and tucked you to bed. The candle now blown out as his arms wrapped around your waist while spooning from behind.

Zhongli closed his eyes, knowing if he dreamt of a garden full of glaze lilies, there will be no sadness behind it.

{Childe}

Mother fucker would try to turn this into a sparring session.

This is why you NEVER invite Childe. If the valley were the air nomads, Childe was the fire nation. He’d stomp his muddy shoes in front of you just to get your attention simply because he knows it will piss you off.

An angry s/o means a potential fight. Win win situation.

Thus, no one blamed you for giving him a cold shoulder after that.

“Aha, looks like I went a little too far, didn’t I? Alright alright, I’ll stop trampling on your flowers from now on, you have my word. So talk to me, okay? Please?”

Alas you spare him a glance, “Make that a pinky promise.”

He didn’t know you were so serious about gardening. The Feiyun commerce guild took greate pride in cultivating the finest silk flowers in all of Teyvat and you being from that guild held up that legacy. Even if Childe tries to buy back the ones he stepped on, nothing could match the quality of your work.

Needless to say, your little hobby became a normal thing, Childe was very chaotic in nature so something more calm was nice to mediate that attitude. You taught him how to water plants, place the fertilizer and knowing which ones to pick.

But let’s be real, florist Childe isn’t that far-fetched because he is 10/10 waifu material.

Then Teucer comes in and tags along. He wanted to take some silk flowers back to Tonia until Childe informed him they’ll wilt on their way to Snezhnaya.

“Aww, that’s too bad,” he would say while pouting, “Then I’ll give them to you big sister (Y/n)!”

“How sweet, you’ll be quite the charmer when you’re all grown up, Teucer. Maybe even better than your big brother.”

“Come on now, babe. You know that’s impossible.”

You twirled the silk flower right under your nose, the playful tone never leaving your voice, “Oh really? You and Teucer both share the same genes so yes, it is a possibility.”

An amusing glint dances in the ocean of his gaze as he gleefully remarks, “Well if you put it that way, I think Teucer would be at a very big disadvantage.”

“What do you-”

Before you could finish, Childe covers Teucer’s eyes and leans over to steal a sinful kiss, sliding his tongue inside. He purposely brushed his lips over yours after parting, completely satisfied by your flustered expression.

I love this bastard

{Xiao}

Hip hip hooray for having both Qiqi and Xiao in your party. Must be fun collecting their ascension materials.

“Adeptus Xiao!”

Your dumbass fell off the high cliff while obtaining the violet grass, Xiao yeets in from nowhere and caught you from death’s clutches.

Shall I mention that this had happened TWICE already?

Xiao carries you to safety and gently settles you down to your feet. He shot you the sharpest and most deadpan look he could muster because actions speak louder that words, he was trying to make a point.

You gave him a weary smile as the violetgrass batch limps in your hands along with the qingxins.

“I can hardly fathom how utterly stupid and moronic you can actually be. What did you think would happen when you tried to pull off that stunt? That you’d suddenly grow wings and be able to fly?”

His harsh words put you back into your place like a scolded child, “I’m sorry...I just wanted to help...”

Mah man does not watch what he says and always end up guilty. Your kicked puppy look is really going to be the death of him. He means well, just harsh when it comes to your well-being.

“Fine, give me those. I’ll take care of it.” He wouldn’t allow you to retort, he just took them from your hands and left without a word.

Let’s just say that Xiao isn’t the best when it comes to handling flowers as he would handle monesters, his touch isn’t the most delicate either and would prefer to get the job done fast.

Sometimes he’d pull the roots our along with it, dirt and mud dripping from the bottom of the stem. Or the opposite. He pulls too hard and the stem just SNAPS and you’re left with just the blossom.

“Does it matter? They’re only ingredients as you’ve said.”

That gave you a perfect excuse to teach him the ways of gardening and just be more delicate overall.

At first he didn’t understand why humans were so meticulous about these things but when he saw a man present a bouquet to his wife, Xiao began to reconsider his methods. He doesn’t undersand mortal traditions as much and sticks to something simple and classy.

Don’t be surprised when you find a bunch on your desk for your birthday <3

{Albedo}

The sheer cold of dragon spine could naturally kill any botanical organisms aside from mints. The only flowers Albedo usually sees are the ones he artificially makes.

But being the genius he was, Albedo knew every variety of flowers to exist in the book. In this case, HE was the expert.

To him, the flower was the symbol of life. Albedo only knew the scientific facts of plant life and their natural functions, you on the otherhand were more familiar with the flower languages in a deeper meaning.

Today was a rare day where Albedo figured he’d step out of that freezing lab and conduct his research somewhere warmer, specifically Windrise where it’s quiet and away from the city.

“Dandelions may not be flowers but thei’re the main specialty of Mondstadt carrying the meaning of ‘freedom’! That’s probably how the Acting Grandmaster got her title.”

“Freedom...” He ponders, “I guess you cold say that.”

Albedo can’t understand why people would choose to associate meaning with plants. Where do their ideas come from? And why? Frankly, he can’t see the point in any of it.

But at the same time, it made him happy to see you so enthusiastic about his research even if it wasn’t quite near the target. Albedo had always been so engrossed in his work and you’d just silently keep him company of the side, not many times where you both fot to nerd out on the same topic.

Emotions were still a mystery to him. It seems that even upon the most boring subjects, they don’t seem boring anymore when talking to his significant other. Soon enough, Albedo found himself putting his research aside and just listening to you talk.

“And the Rose expresses romance and love. It’s common for lovers to give it to another during Valentines day.”

He hums cheekily, “Are you telling me that just to hint me to give one to you?”

“W-Well, I didn’t say that.”

He got nothing done. Perhaps his research can wait for another day, right now, he was more curious on what other meanings can a flower hold.

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #genshin childe #childe x reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #nya-writes

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rpd-rookie · 3 years

Text

The One Who Runs Away, The One Who Runs Back (Leon S. Kennedy x Reader)

Author’s note: This is a sequel to “A PAST WITH HER, A FUTURE WITH YOU” and the end of my three-parts fan fiction "I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY HEART" I decided to write after so many of you asked for it. Sorry it took so long but I was navigating from one fandom to another. (BTW, if there are any Devil May Cry fans up here, you can read my DMC fan fictions here) PS: Even if I said it before, I have no hate whatsoever towards Ada or Aeon.

Tagged: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Post-Break up, Sexual Content

Part 1 / Part 2

***

Do you remember? We started this story by quoting some sitcom character that was clueless about love. Well, here’s a suggestion. Why not ending it by quoting someone who knew a little more on such matter.

William Shakespeare - you know that English dude expert on tragic ‘drink this poison, stab yourself’ kind of love - apparently once said ‘Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck’. I say ‘apparently’ cause, even though I have a master in English lit, this quote is from the internet, and also … who knows what the guy truly said?

But it’s the quote that’s important. Not the author. The quote it’s important because it sums up perfectly how this story is gonna end. However, before starting, let me tell you this quote is going to be the only Shakespeare-worthy sentence in this final chapter. You’ve been warned.

Love runs away from those chasing her. Well, this part was definitely written for someone like Ada Wong. Owner of countless gold medals and possibly a world record at this point, that woman is basically the Usain Bolt of the ‘Running from Leon S. Kennedy’ competition. Unchallenged winner since the creation of this sultry version of cat and mouse game, it’s better not to think about the number of times she successfully ran away from her favourite agent. But this year, this formidable titleholder in a gorgeous red dress will have to face her Nemesis in the championship. You. Though the comparison to the hideous bio-organic killing machine might not be very complimentary to you but you get the idea. This year you enter the Kennedy Olympics. And this year you run like Sonic the Hedgehog and you win the damn competition (screw you Usain Bold!). And you do this with your head high and without an ounce of regret. Ignore all the texts and flowers Leon might send on your track Mario Kart style. His gifts are not as slippery as banana peels and they can easily be dodged, I promise. Well, most of the time, when you’re not lying on your bed in the middle of the night crying and sobbing while reading his messages or playing his voice in your voicemail again and again until you’re nothing more but a giant mess with puffy red eyes drowning in a puddle of your own tears. Screw those messages too! And screw his broken yet terribly sexy voice as well!

Being a man of word, Leon kept his promise. And for months you kept on running peacefully, marathoning away from this past relationship that had destroyed you like no other before while tranquilly fixing your broken heart on the way. That run was a good cardio.

But sometimes, cardio is not enough, and even just the small sight of an overpriced whisky bottle or the smell of Leon’s perfume on some guy’s clothes is enough to reopen your wounds. And when it happens, you always do the same thing, you break the damn bottle - and run cause damn! it’s expensive! - or you tell the guy his perfume smells like cheap cologne and that he should definitely change it, which is an improvement on your past destructive behaviour, since there was a time shortly after the break up when you would have simply dragged the guy to your place to let him fuck you senseless while imagining he was Leon. All that just for the illusion to feel him again and for the sake to kick him out the next morning, screaming like a hysterical psycho.

So imagine, for a small second, the wave of intense feelings surging out of your healing heart when, in the middle of a cafe, you hear some dude sitting behind you ordering Leon’s favourite whisky while wearing the same bloody perfume. “It’s got to be relentless persecution at that point!” You sigh, already annoyed, closing your book more violently than intended. Hope you’re ready, stranger! Because you’re not in the mood to deal with this right now. You turn around with a fake smile that reflects perfectly your irritation, ready to give him hell, your sharpest riposte already burning your tongue. After all, he deserves it and you can’t help it. But when you meet familiar – and freaking gorgeous - baby blue eyes you freeze and stare, suddenly confused and lost and refusing to believe that in spite of the intense running, love just jumped at your neck after all and it was sitting there, taking the shape of Leon S(tupid) Kennedy.

You should have stood up and left, run for your life, run for your heart. And yet, you didn’t. You stayed there staring at him looking at you, allowing all your memories, the good ones and the bad ones, all your buried feelings to come back from the dead, embracing them as if you had missed them, which, let’s be honest, you probably had. You tried to scream to yourself “Come on, Y/N! Shake a leg!” but it seemed that what you brain understood was something like “Cum on him! Open your legs!” as a couple of blurry hours later, you were on Leon’s bed, legs wide open, screaming his name and begging him not to stop his amazing thrusts.

Six months, you ran for six months … Well, looks like the run ends here and now. After a minute-long deep stare, an afternoon of amazing sex and two hours long of something blurry in between.

“I missed you.” And there you were! The moment all couples that broke up have after one of them (in this case Leon with the infamous ‘I missed you line’) starts to believe they miraculously rekindled their love. The fatal post-coital cuddling session that you don’t know how to react to, as you think of all the possibilities before you. Possibility Number 1) You tell Leon you missed him too and cuddle, enjoying that embrace you secretly yearned for months. But that includes forgetting what he has done or pretending that nothing happened. Possibility Number 2) You push him away, get dressed, leave again and act as if this afternoon never happened. But if Leon doesn’t remind you of it, the ache between your legs will, that’s for sure! Possibility Number 3) You jump him again until you sore even more and hope that you’ll be able to leave afterwards. Frankly, all possibilities suck because, in all cases, it seems like you lose. Since, with Possibility Number 1) you lose the run forever, with Possibility Number 2) you lose him again and with Possibility Number 3) well it’s result 1 or 2 + your body aching like crazy for days. I suck at math but no need to be Einstein to know the result of this calculation looks unpleasant. So what do you choose?

You see a triangular dice rolling in your head, showing a never-ending succession of 1, 2 and 3 that doesn’t make any sense and that confuse you even more than you already are. 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 3, 2 ! Oh for fuck’s sake!

You grimace, angry and pissed at Leon and probably even more at yourself, and finally leaves his bed and his strong warm arms, feeling the tears furiously forming in your eyes. “I can’t” You can’t look at him in the eyes. You don’t want to see his confusion, don’t want to see his pain as he witnesses all his hopes shatter to pieces. “ What do you mean?” You can hear the sheets crease behind you, alerting you of Leon’s agitation, so you hurry and pick up all your clothes scattered in his room. You must leave, now. 2! 2 it is! “This! All This! This afternoon never happened.” You tell him, putting on your clothes with sudden clumsy and trembling hands, not caring if your bra is correctly hooked or if you put your shirt on back to front. Your heart. You have to think of your poor heart first. “Hey, hey, hey.” You feel Leon’s hand softly grabbing your arms and you let go of whatever you were holding right now. His voice is sweet and trying to be comforting. Don’t look at him Y/N! Don’t look at him! “Look at me.” You do. Damn it! And you see his gorgeous blue eyes staring at you, studying your flustered face and the tears slowly drowning your (colour) look. You missed those eyes. You missed them so.damn.much ! As much as you missed his hands cupping your face and his thumbs wiping up your tears. God! How many tears those thumbs have missed recently. “It’s alright.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But there is this voice screaming in your head and very clearly this time. A voice shouting, forcing you to remember that night, that awful nightmarish night, the one when you felt your heart break and your dreams turn to ashes. All that because of him and his obsession for her.

“No, it’s not alright, Leon.” You shake your head and miraculously manage to take a small step back. You never thought you could. But you had to. You can’t stay close to him. You can’t let him touch you, feel you. Not if you want to run away. And you have to run away. Like her! Like Ada. Ada! “I told you. For as long as you have feelings for Ada, I can’t … we can’t…” “Please don’t talk about her.” He begs and rubs his hand over his face. Is he trying to chase her away from his mind? Is she still in here? Please, let her not be in here. “But she’s the reason we’re in this situation now. She’s the reason why we’re in this mess.” You insist only for the sake to see his reaction when you mention Ada, to see if she’s still under his skin, somewhere. “Ada is not the reason. I am!” Leon corrects you, a finger directed at his heavy chest as he is putting the full blame on himself for the first time since that night. “I am the one who went after Ada when I shouldn’t have! I am the reason why we broke up! I am the reason why we are so miserable!” “But I was fine!” You shouted back in an attempt to show him he was wrong refusing to listen to that part of you who knew he was completely right. You were miserable without him. “I was doing fine until you came back and fucked everything up! I was healing goddamnit!” You felt new tears rolling along your red cheeks and quickly wipe them off with the back of your hand that felt so callous and rough in comparison to Leon’s gentle touch. “You can’t just jump back into my life like this and expect me to forget!”

Leon nods, agreeing with you in a certain way. But the truth is, he doesn’t want you to forget. He doesn’t expect you to erase his mistake. He just wants you to forgive him … No, he just wants you to come back to him. Period. And that’s got to be what you want to. It has to! “So why did you have sex with me, huh?” He finally asks even though he already knows your answer. “Tell me!” You’re not the kind of person who has meaningless sex, not the kind of person who worships one’s body with divine kisses and devoted caresses if they mean nothing. “Why did you have sex with me?” And yet the answer he wishes to hear doesn’t come out. “For fuck’s sake Y/N! Answer me! Why?” He shouts making you shiver and cry even more. “Because I LOVE YOU!” You finally scream. And it hurts. It hurts but it feels good too. Like a weight lifted off your chest. “Because I missed you too! Because those months without you have been terrible! Because I don’t know how to handle even just the thought of you or the sound of your voice in my voicemail. Because each time I see something that makes me think of you, I’m a mess and I do things that normal me would never do! You fucked me up, Leon! You fucked me up but I love you! And I hate to love you!” You grunt in pain and relief, enraged but happy that you finally let everything out. And Leon listens in silence, frozen by your powerful honest confession. But he doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know what to say. Part of him is overjoyed, ecstatic that you still love him but there is another part that just feels terrible, sorry for the pain your love for him caused you even in his absence. “But you see—“ You continue “That’s the problem in our relationship, Leon! I love you in ways that are so intense, that go beyond sanity. And you love me by half.” You see him crumple, his horrified face looking suddenly very pale as if he had just heard some dreadful news. Is that really how you feel? Is that how you see his love for you? Is that what he has made you believe? “Goodbye Leon.”

With the full intention to leave Leon’s place for good and never come back, you grab you bag on your way out of the bedroom while carelessly shoving your underwear inside of it since you forgot to put them on in the midst of panic and precipitation. Get out of here, Y/N! Now! A reasonable voice encourages you. Listen to me! But this not what Leon wants.

“I never loved you by half.” He declares and you abruptly stop, asking God if he’s some kind of sadist that loves seeing you in pain from the comfort of his divine sofa somewhere in heaven. “Never.” But it’s not God and his sadism that makes you turn around. It’s you, and your masochist love for that blue-eyed man before you. “I don’t believe you” Your voice almost doesn’t leave your throat as you try not to sob. “But it’s the truth.” He says with a calm soothing voice as he slowly approaches you. “I never imagined my future with Ada. I never wished to grow old with her or build a home with her.” You want to tell Leon to stop talking, to stay where he is but your body doesn’t seem to respond. And when you feel him grabbing your hands in his and the comforting warmth that goes with that simple touch, you know that leaving is now an almost impossible task. “Yes. I admit it. My feelings for her were real.” Even when his honesty hurts you, you don’t know how to leave anymore. “But they were nothing in comparison to what I feel for you.” You try to let go, pulling your hands away from his loving grip but he holds you back. And you’re not strong enough. Or maybe, you just don’t want to be strong. Everything is so confusing. Everything is tearing you apart. “But they’re still here, aren’t they?” You question, hoping his answer might give you a clue, might give you the strength to make the correct decision. Do you leave? Or do you stay? “And they’ll keep coming back each she goes back into your life. You can’t let go of her.” “You’re maybe right.” His words hurt you more than you thought they would. They hurt like hell because you realise there are not the ones you wanted to hear. You wanted to hear him say that he would let go of Ada, for good, for you. You wanted to hear that because deep down … YOU WANTED TO FUCKING STAY! “But can you let go of your past?” He continues and you shake your head refusing to hear any other word coming out of Leon’s mouth. “Don’t!” You beg, weary. “No! Listen to me this time. Ada is my past, Y/N. She’s my past. And you … you’re my future. You’re my life, damn it!” He doesn’t cry but you don’t need his tears to sense how emotional and how honest he is. And suddenly, you just want to listen to him. “And I was a fool not to see it sooner. When you left me, I felt a void I had never felt in my entire life. I felt like a part of me was missing. And then, the bombing in Washington happened, and it was like I had nothing left. I needed you. I wanted you. You. Not Ada.” “Leon” You whisper and he cups your face again, blue eyes staring deep into yours, allowing you to see everything in him, his strong love for you and all the weaknesses he hated to admit. “It was you in my mind. Only you. And it will always be you. Because I love you. Now. Today. And I will always love you.”

You cry even more, uncertain if those tears are tears of sorrow, tears of joy or a mix of both. God, how can your emotions be such a mess right now? How can you be wishing to shout at him with all the anger you’ve accumulated and, at the same time, willing to kiss him with all love you’ve got?

“If you got to believe something. Believe that. And if that’s not enough and you think you can be happy with someone else. Then go. I won’t hold you back.” You frown. He is fucking lying. You’re sure of it. “You can’t stop running after me and you know it.” He smiles and scoffs, sensing that hint of sudden defiance in your tone he enjoys a lot. “True. I can’t sop running after you. But I’ll do my best not to catch you if that’s what you want. But you got to tell me. Is that what you truly want?” You don’t reply. Truth is, you’re not sure what to say not because you’re not sure that’s what you want but because you’re not sure you can trust him if you let him in again. “No.” You whisper. “No, that’s not what I want. I want you. All of you.” You can see Leon struggle to contain his growing joy as it starts to glimmer brighter and brighter in his irises. He doesn’t want to cry victory just yet. He is cautious and rightfully so. “But can I?” “Want me?” He smiles. “ Have you completely?” You correct, searching for a promise in his eyes, one you hope, you wish he would not break this time. “Trust me with your heart again and find out.”

This better not hurt this time…

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #i trusted you with my heart #resident evil fanfic #fanfic

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Photo

MUCH TOO MUCH

RATING: R/smut (some sex, some alcohol/drugs, cursing, the usual)

WORD COUNT: 9.7k

CATEGORIES: college!harry, roommate!harry

MASTERLIST | ASK ME QUESTIONS

a/n: this is my entry for my beloved @stellarboystyles‘s 3 year anniversary challenge!!!!! it was so fun to write these two and i hope you like it! a bit on the shorter side, but delicious all the same. come talk to me about them when you’re done, i want to hear what you think! (also this was named for the song by lennon stella in case u were curious lol)

Currently, he had you pressed against the wall of a house party, his fingers clenched in the hem of your skin-tight crop top, a knee propped between your legs, and his lips attached to your neck. Your hands were threading through his hair, those locks that curled at the ends and you’d always thought about tugging on, and now that you had the chance you weren’t passing it by.

“Fuck, Harry,” you mumbled, your head spinning from the alcohol in your veins and the feeling of Harry this close to you. To be completely honest, you knew what was happening was probably not the best idea. But considering how many cups of jungle juice you’d had and the fact that you were definitely crossed, you frankly couldn’t find a care in the world.

Harry and Y/N live together and one night they hook up and things get complicated

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

Harry living with you wasn’t planned. At least, not in the way where you guys were best friends and decided to live together way. More in the way of neither of you had anyone else to live with and had the same price range kind of way. You happened to be at a mutual friend’s party mid-way through your sophomore spring and you’d mentioned in passing that you were looking for a roommate, and Harry’s head had popped up.

Somewhere along the way, though, you’d decided you quite liked living with him.

Even if he was obnoxious sometimes, was absolutely shit at doing chores, and couldn’t properly load the dishwasher.

He had a charm to him, you had to admit. He was good at getting on your good side—texting you when you were on the library and he was just leaving to head over, asking if you wanted anything to snack on. One time, he’d brought you a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos without being asked because he knew you hadn’t eaten in hours and needed your favorite foods.

His charms were what made you overlook the nights that he had people over and you had to listen to the sound of his bed frame hitting the wall, or had to creep into the bathroom in the early hours of the morning before he and whoever he’d brought back woke up, pretending to not even live in your apartment for fear of being embarrassed. Although, you never quite knew what you should be embarrassed about—but you were. Maybe it was because you frequently ended up listening to his sounds and trying not to think about how good he sounded or wondering what it was like to be in bed with him.

But that wasn’t something you would tell anyone, not even your friends who pestered you about what it was like living with Harry. Harry, the party-goer who always had three types of hard liquor in your kitchen but was also your go-to person to edit your papers and help you study for exams. Harry, who was your partner in crime on a night out and on a night in, someone who you could be yourself with no matter the context. It was something you’d never expected from him, but now that you had it, you couldn’t image losing it.

Which was why the current situation you were in was not the best.

Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t literally dreamed of this happening. In fact, you wanted this with every fiber of your being. You just didn’t have your brain stopping you now.

His tongue danced up the column of your neck, dipping into the crevice under your ear and his lips formed a circle on your skin and pulled gently, your fingers tugging on the strands of his hair. Your heart was beating wildly and so was his—you could feel it against your body—or maybe that was the thrum of the bass? You weren’t sure. When he tugged on your earlobe you wrapped your hands in the bottom of his graphic t-shirt, some random streetwear company that he was obsessed with lately and you thought was weird, but didn’t comment on.

One of your legs slid up his, ankle hooking around his knee and pulling his pelvis into yours, and the surprised grunt that left Harry’s mouth made you smile. “Y/N,” he groaned, fingers pressing harder into your skin. “What are you doing?”

“I’d ask you the same,” you answered, a devilish smile on your lips that Harry kissed away, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip and pulling your jaw down just enough so that he could earn access. It was brutal, kissing him. And not because it was bad, but because it was so good and you’d robbed yourself of this for a year and a half.

Your lips intertwined and fought for dominance, Harry’s sliding between yours and sucking and pulling just enough for you to move closer for more. Your wrists ended up behind his neck, holding him close to you, and you used the pressure to gain an advantage, grinding in his hips and kissing him with a passion burning in your heart.

Harry, meanwhile, was losing his fucking mind. He’d been thinking of this forever, and somehow tonight’s combination of alcohol and weed had led you two here: to a position that neither of your quite knew how it started, but you weren’t stopping it. In fact, Harry caged you in, his hands moving from your body to wall behind you, palms pressed to the worn white paint. He didn’t want to lose you, to lose this moment, to pretend like it never happened. Instead, he wanted to keep you tight against him, to memorize how it felt when the heel of your boots dragged along the inside seam of his denim jeans, the warmth spreading across his neck when you gently scratch at his skin as he suckled on your bottom lip and kissed a line across your jaw. He wanted to remember the sound of your soft breaths in his ears, how they increased in tempo as he sucked a hickey onto your neck, doubling his effort when you didn’t move to stop him. He’d seen you with them before and now that you were his—at least for the night—he wanted to give you one to remember him by.

Not that you could forget him. Not with Some Kind of Drug pounding in the speakers, his hips grinding into yours in the low lighting, his teeth nipping at your skin as you exhaled his name and a curse. He was unforgettable, that Harry Styles. Especially when he had your gripping his skin through his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as he pushed you higher and higher into the clouds, your mind a haze of just nothing but him.

Harry pulled away a hair, mainly because he was getting tired of just having you against a wall with people everywhere—he either wanted to move this into a private space or call this off. Although he didn’t really want the latter, not really. That was only if you didn’t want him. But from the way you stared at him as he created a half foot of distance between you, your chest heaving, lace edge of your bra peeking out from underneath your cropped tank top, he didn’t think that’s what you wanted.

“Do you want to stay or go?” He asked, one of his hands lingering at the wall next to you and the other moving to move a piece of your hair out of your face.

“Go,” you answered, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “If—if you want to.”

He didn’t even take a breath before he answered, “Yeah, I want to.”

Which was how you two ended up making out in the Uber back to your apartment, you straddling his lap and twisting over him as he kissed you, his hands cupping your ass. Neither of you were sober enough to think about the fact that you were in someone else’s car, but then again, neither of you would probably care. Especially when you sucked on the edge of Harry’s jaw and he tugged your hips down on his and groaned low and rough in your ear, the sound making you smile against his skin.

The radio was playing the background, but in the haze you didn’t hear anything, all you could take in was Harry: his touch, his smell, the soft sounds he made as you moved on him, the feeling of his jeans against your tights-clad skin. It was chilly out and you had a thin pair of stockings on, sheer enough for your skin to show through, but enough to give you a bit of protection from the nip of the cold. His hands had already rucked up the edge of your favorite leather skirt, and your bra was poking out of the top of your cropped tank top that was tight over the swell of your breasts.

You were a sight in Harry’s eyes, something he couldn’t get enough of. Even though he lived with you, saw you in every outfit, especially the ones involving mismatched sweats and tired eyes, he never thought you were anything other than beautiful. Sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but who wasn’t? But now, with you like this, on top of him, he didn’t know if he’d ever seen you quite this gorgeous. This delicious, even though he hated describing people that way. But how else could he describe you when you stared down at him, lips red from his kisses and eyes blazing for him, chest heaving and cleavage demanding his attention. His hands couldn’t stop curving over your legs, smoothing up and down your thighs. It was sin, he decided, how he felt right now, because he couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts in his brain.

The things he wanted to do to you.

The things he wanted you to do to him.

The things he wanted to see.

The things he wanted you to see.

The things he wanted to hear.

The things he wanted you to hear.

The things he wanted to feel.

The things he wanted you to feel.

It was like a freight train running through his head, all of the images and thoughts and concepts barreling into his thoughts. It made the swirl of your hips over his and the way you curled your fingers into the thin fabric covering his shoulders particularly hard to resist.

Realistically, the drive to your shared off-campus apartment wasn’t that long, but in your heads, it seemed like ages. Ages of waiting for a bed and privacy, ages of waiting to shed layers and know what endless bare skin looked like. So when your driver arrived at your building, you pushed open the door, narrowly missing banging your head on the roof of the car.

Harry chuckled as he tumbled out after you, thanking the driver and wrapping his arm around your waist. You wasted no time before you curled your arm around him and danced your fingers up his opposite side, your lips sucking delicately on the fabric of his t-shirt closest to you. It made Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his breath jump.

Was this what you were always like? This was the thing about this situation—you two knew one another, but not like this. You’d never made out in the back of an Uber or made out on your doorstep while one of you fumbled for the keys like you were now, or felt your hands dig into exposed skin and singe of hot breath on your neck. This was new territory, and perhaps if you both weren’t quite so drunk you would’ve stopped to talk about it.

But instead, Harry was leading you to his bedroom with your legs around his waist and your fingers in his hair, his lips crawling up your throat, walking blindly because he knew the way.

The thing about hooking up with someone you’d been close friends with for over a year was that there wasn’t a layer of awkwardness because you didn’t know the person. Instead, it was a hint of unassuredness whenever clothes started coming off, a hint of awe, but nothing uncomfortable. You’d never felt quite this comfortable with someone, in fact. You’d never trusted someone you hooked up with quite as much as you trusted Harry. And he felt the same way. When you pushed his shirt up his torso and scratched your nails softly down his skin he had never felt so alive, so full of desire.

It was why he fell back on his bed and let you stand between his knees in a desperate attempt to get your clothes off so he could feel your bare skin. He’d been waiting all night to see you—to finally see you—and now that he had you, he didn’t want to let you go.

“They’re tights,” you mumbled against his lips when he tried to pull on the material on your legs, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“I know,” he replied, smirking. “Not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.” You stepped away, deciding you could do this part by yourself with more ease, and unzipped your leather skirt, the zip down the front meaning it was easy access, and let the material fall to the ground. Harry’s eyes swept up your legs and to the place where the band of your tights dug into your waist, gaze flaming black with desire. Then, you hooked your fingers in the tight band and tugged it down, peeling the thin material off of your skin, hopping on one foot to get them off your feet.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, and instead reached out to hold you steady, a smile winding onto your face from the action. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, standing up straight in just your purple underwear and your shirt and bra. His hands held fast to your hips, palms curving around your skin and gaze dancing up your body. And when you pulled your tight shirt up and over your heads, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, his heart about stopped.

You had on a set that didn’t match, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop looking at your breasts—it was cliche, that he loved boobs, but how could he not? Especially when you were breathing this fast and looking at him like that and you were wearing a red bra that barely held you in. How as he supposed to not lose his goddamned mind?

“What?” You asked, stepping back in between his legs, hands falling to his shoulders, sliding up the slope to cup his neck.

“You—you just,” he choked out, the words rough and dry in his mouth. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just moved. You kissed him, lips caught between his, and pulled at his shirt, tugging it up until he shifted back to tug it off his body and let it fall to the ground. You stopped thinking, stopped using any sense in your body, and instead just felt. Felt how he made your skin sing and your body thrum with pleasure, how he made the worries at the back of your head fall away with each pass of his hands, focused on the way he kissed across your clavicle and sighed when you harshly gripped his hair. You let yourself drown in those feelings because you knew if you used your head that somehow you would succumb to your fears and lose this moment, and that was the utter last thing you wanted.

Instead, you wanted to drown in him.

And he felt the same way. He fell back onto the duvet and took you with him, flipping you onto your back so that your hair was pressed against the pillowcase, a cheap one from Target he’d brought at the beginning of the year that you’d convinced him was a good color. You looked up at him with awe and temptation in your irises, and Harry took only a minute to rip off his jeans and his t-shirt, leaving his boxers on only because he didn’t want to seem like an asshole. Then, he was back hovering over you, his curls falling into his face, your fingers reaching up to push them back.

A smile drifted across your face and he dropped to his elbows, peppering kisses down your neck and falling back to his knees as he made his way down your body. When he heard a chuckle rip from your throat, he glanced up at you. “Distracted?”

“No,” you said, poking his temple. “Thinking about how when we first met I teased you about how you must fuck girls with your snapback on because you wore it so much.”

Harry hummed a laugh into your chest, dimples peeking out and you thought it was downright adorable. “I was a bit of a whore when we met, huh?”

“Maybe a bit,” you answered, a teasing lilt to your words that Harry knew well. “Don’t worry, you’re only just a bit less of one now. Didn’t lose that title, I don’t think.”

“That’s a bit rude,” he said, sucking harshly at your nipple through your bra. “Bullying me while I’m tryin’ to go down on you.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Couldn’t tell since you hadn’t quite made it there yet.”

You were taunting him like you always did, the alcohol in your veins making it more sexual in nature, and Harry loved it. It made it feel like the two of you, not like something that would be completely forgotten in the morning. “Am I too slow for you?” He asked, scratching gently at your sides and making you squirm as he fell farther down the length of your body. “I was trying to take my time but if you’re impatient, then—“

“Harry, please, fuck, just—“ A gasp fell from parted lips when he finally licked at the hood of your clit, your hands gripping his hair within another breath. Your words were nothing but pants, dry and heaving sounds that filled Harry’s head. He’d heard you through the walls before—it was a college-priced apartment, after all. Thick walls weren’t exactly something that fit in your price range. But hearing you this close, this sharp, the sound this crisp in his ears, it was making his hips rut into the duvet. It was his wet dream actualized, as horrible as that sounded.

Yes, he had wet dreams about you.

Yes, he knew that was probably horrible.

And no, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

Your mind, on the other hand, was blank. Like, literally blank. That was the thing about sex when you were drunk, all the thinking and nerves and walls dropped away and you just let your body feel. There wasn’t that niggling thought at the back of your head that questioned if you looked good like this, you just let go and let your back arch and hips circle and arms quiver. Your hands drifted from the duvet to his hair and then the pillow behind your head, trying to figure out what would hold your grip best as Harry absolutely devoured you.

So far, you hadn’t settled on your favorite thing to hold on to, but his hair was in the running for first place. The sight of his eyes peeking up at yours, an image you only got every once in a while because you could barely keep your eyes open to look at him, was enough to send you spiraling. But you were trying to hold yourself together because you didn’t want this to end. You’d just gotten him like this and you didn’t want the night to be over because who knew what the morning held?

Thankfully, though, your drunk mind didn’t let those disruptive thoughts linger. Instead, they focused on the orgasm rising as he curled his tongue over your panties and then under them, the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin making you moan deeply, his ring-clad fingers pressing into your hips. Harry loved watching you almost as much as he loved tasting you, doing this to you. There was a power in oral sex, Harry couldn’t deny that, and he loved it not because of the power it gave him, but the gratification of making someone else feel good. He loved watching women finish, and you were no different. In fact, you were blowing every woman before you out of the water.

Maybe that was the alcohol talking. He couldn’t tell. But either way, when he sucked on your clit and you squeaked out his name, he didn’t know how he could do this with another person for at least a month or two. Getting you out of his head would be his full-time job for a while, especially while living with you.

Your fingers threaded through his brown curls, eyes fluttering open, mind swirling and trying to focus somehow on the sight below you and the feeling swirling through your body, a tightness spreading up your legs, your toes curling and feet pressing down towards the duvet, scrabbling for something to hold onto. They ended up hooking around Harry’s shoulders, his hands holding your thighs close, as if not worried in the slightest about them getting too tight. Instead, he held you close and your breath came out in short pants, airways drying from not being able to even close your mouth and breathe.

His tongue was just so wet. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Oral while you were like this always felt this way—just overwhelming in the most basic sense. It was wet and warm and overwhelming and you never wanted it to end. You didn’t even know how long he was down there, his head tucked between your thighs, alternating between sucking on your clit and licking up and down your slit, poking his tongue into your hole for a second—just long enough to make you groan, deep and unabashed.

“I’m close,” you murmured, words broken and Harry could only understand them because he had heard you talk in the morning after you’d just gotten up and your mind wasn’t quite working yet. He parsed your words together with ease, and the result made him grin, and suck harshly on your clit, before dropping his chin and licking into you with fervor. “Fuck, Harry.”

“That’s it,” he mumbled, words garbled because he didn’t even raise his head to speak, he kept his lips right on your skin which meant the vibrations of his words flowed through your veins.

His fingertips pressed harshly on the outside of your thighs, holding you close, and somehow the combination of the pressure and the heat of his tongue had you tumbling over the edge, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggled to catch a breath, your orgasm overtaking you. Harry watched as your fingers clenched the duvet, legs tightening and then loosening around his shoulders, before dropping to the bed with a satisfied sigh from your lips.

He could watch you for days.

“Come here,” you said, glancing down at him with a fucked out look on your face, eyes glassy and lips red from chewing on them, your hair a mess from thrashing your head back and forth. He’d never seen you quite like this and he liked the sight.

Liked it a lot, in fact. He moved up your body with ease, the soft skin of his legs rubbing against yours. Once he was at your eye level, you sealed the distance with a kiss that made Harry’s mind fumble for stable ground, desperate for you. When you ran your toes up his calf, though, the soft touch making him moan, he knew he was fucked. “You—need you,” he said, breathless against your lips.

You pushed his underwear down without question, sliding your fingers under the band so you could feel his warm skin under your palms. When he bucked up into you as your nails brushed against his butt cheeks, you smiled against his lips, loving how obvious he was. He didn’t hide anything, pretend like he wasn’t affected. You liked that in a guy. “Condom?” You said, tweaking his skin between your thumb and forefinger.

Harry lifted his head, blinking once. “Yeah—yeah, in the drawer. One sec.” He shifted, rolling off of you so he could do two things. The first was find a condom in the drawer, the second was push down his briefs. Well, technically three things, because after that he rolled the condom on with focus, lip caught between his teeth as you watched, head turned to take in the sight of his side profile.

He was gorgeous. You’d known that for a long while, but seeing him like this, under the glow of the bedside table light and the sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, his chest rising rapidly. You were even attracted to his smattering of chest hair, and especially liked the way his skin purged at his sides. In fact, you reached out and grabbed it gently, drawing his attention back to you.

With one look back at you, he rolled back over you, your legs parting with ease. You wound your fingers through his hair and appreciated that he didn’t ask you questions, that he didn’t try to talk about it because you didn’t want to. You wanted this, it was obvious in how you gazed at him with desire and kneaded at his skin, tugging his pelvis closer and closer. The talk, you thought, would’ve ruined it, made you question it. And you didn’t want to question, you just wanted him.

So when he pushed one of your knees up to your waist and brushed his condom-covered tip over your slit, the skin nudging the hood of your clit, your hips moved without thought. Circled up for him, trying to get the angle for him to slip inside properly. Because you were craving it, feeling him. Needed him in a way you never had before and you didn’t want to linger on it, just wanted it to happen finally.

Harry’s eyes caught on yours, and as if scared of what he found, he looked back down at where your bodies met, before pushing inside. A moan ripped from your throat, fingernails digging into his biceps which you were gripping as he slid in slowly.

“Shit,” you cursed as you felt yourself adjusting to him, “Shit, fuck, shit, Harry.”

“Sorry,” he said, a trace of what you could’ve sworn was a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, squeezing at his arms. “Go.”

And he did.

Holy fuck did he go.

Harry held nothing back when he fucked you. He found a rhythm almost immediately, one that had your torso moving up the duvet and your head raising from the pillow and slamming back down again, eyes fluttering shut and then open again when he hit a deep spot. It was hard to describe how good it felt to have him inside of you, but god, it felt divine. Something you’d been missing. And not that it was him you’d been missing, but sex in general, you’d missed it. Missed this feeling of just losing yourself in it, in the movement of bodies and the sounds and the sweat and that feeling of closeness when Harry’s head dropped down to your neck and he thrusted deep inside of you, an echo of your name on his lips.

Your ankles hooked above his bum, and the impact of his hips on your inner thighs you knew would leave a bruise in the morning and you relished the prospect of it. Of remembering this feeling, of reliving it every time you squatted down. Although the thought of being empty of him was something you were not looking forward to, you were excited about the aftermath on your body.

And Harry was losing his fucking mind as he moved inside of you. Not only because you were squeezing him tight and thought he was going to come within seconds, but because of the way you were wrapped around his body, your hands holding onto his biceps so tightly he was sure there’d be marks tomorrow. It was how your legs sat above his hips, the backs of your heels digging into his ass to make sure he drove into you with a depth and a speed that you needed. Your head tipped back and your mouth was open slightly, tufts of air and moans of pleasure floating from them and through the air, sending sparks down his spine.

When he dropped his head to your neck it was because he missed smelling you, being that close to you. So he lost himself on the column of your neck, leaving mark after mark as he drove into you, as you swallowed him whole—body and mind. This sex was consuming in a way he wasn’t used to and he didn’t think it was the alcohol and the marijuana. He didn’t know why.

Well, he did, but he pretended not to.

Especially when you pulled on his hair and murmured, “Faster, please, H—fuck, please,” in his ear.

Yes, he decided as he sped up and reached a depth that made both of you choke on air, it was a far better idea to pretend that what he was feeling right now was completely normal.

Usually you liked to be on top, to set the pace and keep control when you hooked up with guys, but right now, Harry was doing so good on his own that the last thing you wanted was to stop him. So you let him set the pace and instead kept yourself busy by touching every inch of his body available. You fingers ran down the length of his arms, across the black tattoos swirling across his skin, and towards his chest, making a line down to his belly. When you scratched softly over his skin he grunted—and not a weird sound, but one that you could tell meant he liked it.

So you pressed a little harder, experimenting a bit.

To your smug joy, Harry’s fingers curled in the duvet next to your stomach, arms tensing, and his eye snapped to yours. He didn’t even have to say anything—you knew. He wanted you to keep going.

And you did. You brushed your hand to the top of his torso and dragged a torturing path downwards, nails biting into his skin. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave an angry red trail. Harry was panting above you, eyes fluttering closed as he thrusted into you.

He was close. Your nails mixed with how you squeezed him tight inside of you and the sounds you were making and the slam of the bed against the wall and your perfume lingering in the air—it all mixed together into a dangerous concoction that had him struggling on the edge. “Are you close?” He asked, words rougher than they had been when he last spoke.

When your chin tipped down ever so slightly, Harry smiled devilishly, the prospect of bringing you over the edge again spurring him on, a second surge of energy coursing through his veins. Any exhaustion he had been feeling before from lingering in the same position, any ache in his knees or tightness in his arms was gone, in favor of pressing your knees farther up towards your chest, earning a new angle that had your hands scrambling up his arms and nails digging into his shoulders.

He hissed at the touch and you panted the word Yes over and over again, eyes screwed shut as the orgasm built inside of you like a tidal wave, threatening to break as he twisted his hips a particular way. You were going to come, you realized only seconds before it happened, the depth Harry was reaching and the brutal pace against your hips creating a deadly combination.

As you did, a shudder of his name falling through the room, you squeezed Harry like a death grip and he choked out a moan before coming mere seconds after, unable to hold himself back any longer.

“Shit,” he said, leaning against your shins as he caught his breath. Your legs were still propped up against your chest, his hands caging in your body as he leaned his weight onto you.

Your eyes opened, the soft bedroom light seeming brighter after what had just happened. “Shit,” you answered simply, not knowing what else to say.

What did you say to your roommate after you fucked them, anyway? The alcohol still lingered, both of you plenty tipsy still. It was enough for your legs to drop open and happily let Harry kiss you senseless as he withdrew from inside of you, your hand cupping his jaw. His lips were fucking sin and you hoped you would be able to forget them. Because as he pulled away and mumbled about throwing away the condom, leaving you breathless on his duvet, you didn’t know if you’d be able to.

Harry woke up to an empty bed and a throbbing headache. He was still naked, but that wasn’t unusual considering he favored sleeping naked, and his duvet cover was around his waist. The side of the bed you had been asleep in when he’d shut his eyes was bare, the duvet cover askew from seemed to be you leaving.

He rolled over and picked up his phone, cursing at the low battery from not charging it last night. Then, he sat up in bed, letting the sheets pool at his waist and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake them up. His eyes were dry, probably from the weed, and his throat was dry, probably from the alcohol and the sex.

The sex.

His mind flipped through it in a series of images, like a slideshow on double time, the sight of you naked below him filling his brain. The thing about drunk sex was that you could remember the overall experience, the general highlights, certain specific moments, but it wasn’t like you could pick through it and remember each detail. But Harry didn’t even need the details to know it was fucking incredible.

Fucking you was literally a dream come true.

What wasn’t was the other half of the bed being empty, especially considering it was only eight AM.

He listened to the apartment, trying to decipher if he could hear you moving around. Usually he could hear your footfalls, considering how small and cheap the place was. But it was silent, meaning either you were still asleep or you weren’t home. Most likely it was the former, since it was still early and you usually slept late after a night out.

Although he didn’t know how you were the night after sex. And when had you gotten up from his bed?

More importantly, why had you gotten up from his bed?

Logically, he knew it was probably to avoid a weird interaction, but it was more weird for him to wake up alone and not know why. To not know how you wanted to handle this. Because his sober mind was increasingly realizing that although last night’s events were sensational, they were on the whole an utterly horrible idea.

The two of you lived together, for Pete’s sake. You were practically best friends. You still had half a year worth of a lease.

He groaned, his chin dropping to his chest as he took a deep breath. He could do this, he told himself as he kicked back the covers and slid his legs out of the bed. He could handle this.

So he put his phone on its charger, slipped on a pair of joggers, and went to find you.

What Harry didn’t know was that in the next room, you were wide awake. You had tried to fall back asleep after you’d crept out of his bed at six AM, and you had for a while. But then you woke up and the reality of last night came crashing back through your brain and you groaned, reminding yourself how fucking stupid you were.

Sure, Harry was hot.

That didn’t mean you had to fuck him, you idiot, you told yourself. He was your roommate, your friend. Not someone to sleep with. And yet, here you were, your thighs sore from his hips crashing against them and your body smelling like sex and his cologne.

You heard his door open—it was a small apartment after all—and your heart stopped for a second. You waited for the sound of his footsteps, praying he would just walk to the kitchen and not stop at your room. Listening closely, you heard him pause outside your room and then continue into the kitchen, where you heard the refrigerator open and close and then the kettle humming as he started a cup of tea. A part of you sighed, but the other part of you remembered that you had to see him eventually.

Why were you hiding, anyway?

It wasn’t like you could avoid him, and what did you have to avoid him about? Sure, you’d seen his naked body, sure he’d seen yours, sure you’d had mind blowing sex. That didn’t mean anything.

Right?

“Shit,” you groaned softly into your pillow and decided you would stay in your room until the last possible second. You never said you weren’t a coward.

Unfortunately, an hour later the desire to pee was overwhelming you and you couldn’t wait any longer. So you huffed out a sigh, threw on a pair of pajamas and pushed open your door, taking a tentative step into the hallway, trying to gauge where in the house Harry was. You’d lost track of him during a scroll through Instagram and couldn’t quite place him anymore and it was making you nervous.

Then, you heard the floorboards creak.

Your head whirled to the side, your eyes meeting his. He was standing not two feet away, looking at you with messy hair and wide eyes, a cup of tea clutched in one hand. “Hi,” you managed to say. “Bathroom.”

All he did was nod. He nodded as if this entire situation was somehow normal and completely not fucking with both of your brains.

So you strolled down the hall to the bathroom and shut yourself inside. If he wanted to pretend like this was normal, you could do that, you decided. You’d give him normal.

For the next two weeks, that was exactly what you did. You were the picture of normalcy—you pretended like nothing had happened, just made jokes in the kitchen and joined him for study hours and brought home takeaway for the two of you on Thursday night as usual. However, you couldn’t ignore how things had changed between the two of you. There was this…air between you. Charged with sexual tension that you couldn’t ignore, mixed with a hint of awkwardness and uncertainty that had you both on edge. Gone were the playful squeezes to your sides and you swatting him upside the head when he was annoying. Gone was any unexpected touch, in fact. It was like the Cold War in your apartment, a détente on both sides.

It was excruciating. So much so that you’d found yourself wondering if you needed to move out, which was a stupid idea considering it was mid-way through the year and you adored your apartment. It would also probably be more awkward to break the lease agreement than keep it, you decided.

So instead, you stayed, and you pushed through the uncomfortable moments and spent more time in your room than ever before, the living room a space you avoided unless you had to be there. Harry did the same, a look of almost panic on his face whenever you walked into the kitchen in the morning for breakfast. Was the idea of being in close quarters with you really that horrible sounding?

Apparently, it was.

Two weeks after the night of your greatest mistake, the two of you ended up meeting up with your friends. In fact, the exact same set of friends who you’d been with at the house party two weeks prior. You’d ended up walking over to Mariah’s apartment together, a case of Whiteclaws tucked under Harry’s arm. You were rambling about your art history course and he was nodding along, offering the occasional thought. It felt decently normal, and you were hoping it would last through the night.

At first, it did. But then, more and more people started showing up—some people in the debate club with Mariah, a few from the club soccer team with James, the entirety of Lilah’s a cappella group, and then some people you and Harry had each invited. The result was a packed apartment, the music blaring from a portable speaker, and alcohol bottles and plastic cups littering every surface. There was the faint smell of marijuana from when some people went to smoke in Mariah’s room, and it felt comfortable.

You were talking in a group of yourself, two of your friends from a summer internship you’d had, Harry, and Wei, a guy Harry knew from freshman year who had stayed close with. It took everything in your body not to let your gaze linger on Harry, the cut of his dark green t-shirt close to his body and his black skinny jeans gripping his thighs. His hair was a mess, as it always was when he’d had a couple drinks because he ran his hands through it nonstop. His green eyes were sparkling as he listened to a story Wei was telling, his full body laugh sounding in your ears. It was torture being this close to him and there being a wall between the two of you.

“Hey,” your friend Deliah said, her soft voice pulling your attention back to her. “You and Harry okay?”

She hadn’t been there two weeks ago and you hadn’t told her about what had happened. “Yeah, we’re fine,” you told her with a slight nod.

She studied you for a beat longer, but then seemed to accept the response. “I’m going to go get another, you want anything?”

“No, go ahead,” you answered, raising your still half-full glass.

Ronnie, who stood next to you, said she’d go along and then Wei pulled away and followed them, saying he needed another beer and wanted to find one of his friends and say hello, and suddenly, it was just you and Harry. You and Harry and both of you were fairly drunk and you couldn’t stop looking at his lips. The memory of how they felt against yours pushing its way into your brain and suddenly overtaking your every thought.

What was worse was how he was looking at you. He was watching you, something you knew because you knew him, knew what every one of his glances meant. This one was backed by thoughts, it was the result of him thinking about you and watching your face for something. What, you didn’t know. But you couldn’t take the way his eyes were trained on your expression, the feeling of his gaze on your skin. The distance between you felt like it was shrinking and you felt like you could smell his cologne even though in reality you couldn’t, and you wondered if your heart was pounding in your chest because of the alcohol in your bloodstream or him.

You couldn’t stand there next to him, you decided. You simply couldn’t.

“I’m going to get some air,” you said, pushing yourself off the wall. “Back in a second.”

He may have said something, but you were gone before you could hear it, threading through the crowd towards the patio door. It was a tiny patio, just enough space for a set of chairs and a narrow table, but it was enough. It was empty and the music was quieter as you shut the sliding door.

You could breathe out here, and you did, resting your cup on the railing and looking out at the street. Mariah’s apartment was nestled closer to campus, a bit more of an expensive place thanks to her parents and a high-paying summer internship. Distantly you heard the chatter of people walking on the street towards frat row, the honk of what were probably Ubers picking people up and dropping them off at parties.

Slowly, you inhaled, trying to calm the fast beat of your heart. Your thoughts drifted back to Harry, though, and how you had just looked at one another, had studied each other, both knowing that you couldn’t continue you like this. Something had to give and you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t know what to do. Mariah had tried to talk to you about it, but you’d pretended like it was fine because you didn’t want her meddling. You knew she would try to talk to Harry and then it would become some big thing for all of your friends to know about, and you didn’t want that. You just wanted it to be solved and done and over with. You didn’t want all of these feelings in your chest or these thoughts in your head, you didn’t want to think about this anymore.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about how good he’d felt, about how you wished it could happen again, about how you’d had fucking dreams about him, about how every time you heard his voice it sent shivers through your body because it reminded you of the way he’d said your name, rough and deep and rumbling in his chest.

And then you heard it: your name, in that rough and deep voice. “Y/N.”

“I want to be alone for a bit,” you said, not even turning to face him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, obviously ignoring your words and instead shutting the sliding door behind him.

It was quiet now, and because the balcony was narrow he ended up standing right next to you, his elbow mere inches from yours as he leaned on the railing. “Nothing,” you said with a sigh, the lie bitter on your tongue. “Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

At first, he didn’t say anything, just let your words float in the slight breeze. But then, you heard the crinkle of his thumb pressing into his cup and you knew he was fidgeting, thinking about something, and you knew he was going to break that silence. “Did I mess everything up?” He asked, so soft you barely heard it over the music from inside.

That make you turn your head, eyes meeting his finally. “It’s not your fault. I was there too, we both are responsible.”

“Then, did we mess everything up?”

You sighed, searching for the words. “I don’t think we messed everything up,” you told him finally. “But I don’t know if it can be like it was before.”

“Do you want it to be like it was before?”

His words made your heart jolt. “When we were friends?”

“Aren’t we still friends?” His words were so soft, so full of emotion, you wondered if this was the kind of conversation to be having right now.

“Yes,” you answered. “But…”

“Nothing more,” he finished. You nodded, and both of you were silent for a beat, letting the truth settle between you two. It was the first time you’d even acknowledged that anything had happened. “I don’t want…”

You turned to look at him and saw his tight his jaw was set, how his eyes were trained on the street in front of the building. How he could barely look at you. “H?”

When he turned to meet your gaze, his eyes were glassy, and you realized he was nearly crying. “I don’t want to go back to how it was before,” he said, words broken in his throat. “I want…I want more.”

That made your mind grind to a halt. “You—what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he whispered.

You realized he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much you felt for him, how much the night you’d spent together had absolutely destroyed any semblance of an ability to pretend like you weren’t into him, that you hadn’t had a crush on him for ages. He had no fucking clue. “Harry,” you said, reaching out and brushing your fingers along his forearm, “I want the same thing.”

His eyes widened, gaze falling to where your fingers touched his skin and back up to your eyes. “You do?” You nodded, a smile spreading across your face that he quickly mirrored. “Have we been absolute idiots?” He asked, turning on his heal so you were facing one another fully. Then, he reached up and ran his forefinger across your jawline, a shudder running through your body at the feeling of his fingers on your skin.

“I think we might have been,” you answered, ducking your head ever so slightly so that his finger ran up to your mouth, brushing across your bottom lip.

He cleared his throat when you dropped your jaw ever so slightly, just enough for his finger to press in-between your lips, a ghost of a touch. “Can’t even think when you’re looking at me like that,” he mumbled, words that same roughness you remembered from your night together.

“Right back at you,” you told him.

He stepped closer to you, closing the distance. “We’re such idiots,” he murmured, hand moving to cup your jaw, his fingers brushing under your ear.

“Such idiots,” you agreed.

And slowly, he closed the space between you two, his lips brushing yours hesitantly. But the second you felt his mouth slot between yours, you moved closer, pressing your body against his and your arms winding around his waist to hold him close. His other hand brushed down your side and the grip made your skin sing, finally being close to him was everything you needed. It healed the ache in your heart that had lingered ever since that morning, that morning when everything had gone so wrong.

His lips parted and he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough so your foreheads stayed touching.

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, his breath on your lips.

“I got scared you would regret it in the morning,” you replied. “I didn’t want to be there when you did.”

He chuckled softly, a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t regret it,” he told you. “I thought you did.”

“I’m so stupid,” you said, one of your hands moving from his back to encircle his wrist that held your face. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to your nose so sweetly your knees just about gave out. “Got you in the end, right?”

You hummed an affirmation and leaned up so that your lips could reconnect, kissing him with a passion you’d been seeking for two weeks. And when he kissed you back, the tips of his hair brushing your skin and his fingers pressing against your skin, you sighed, finally feeling settled once again. You’d missed this—him, being this close to him. Somehow, that one night had made you permanently miss him.

He’d truly done a number on you.

“Wanna go home?” You asked between kisses, loving the soft moan that feel from his throat at the thought.

“As long as I wake up to you still next to me,” he replied.

“Promise,” you said, kissing him once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you ended up keeping the apartment for the rest of the year, your stuff slowly ending up in his room because the mattress was more comfortable, and eventually your old room became a shared study room. It was where your desks ended up and you’d study there together in the evenings or marathon study sessions on the weekends, music playing from a speaker between you two. Most of the time, you ended up making out, though, and occasionally having sex on one of your desks or on the floor because frankly you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The sexual tension that had been there that first night had lingered, and it made it so you two truly couldn’t stop touching each other.

It drove your friends crazy, all of them yelling at you whenever you started making out at parties, reminding you that you were in public and you could hold off until you were home, thank you very much. And Harry just would kiss your temple and whisper in your ear about what he wanted to do to you later, and you’d pinch his bum to remind him that he wasn’t the only one with tricks up his sleeves.

Harry had never fallen in love with someone so fast, but with you it was easy. You had been one of his favorite people before you’d started dating, but now it was like you were truly the most incredible people in the world. He’d wake up with you snuggled into his chest, hair tickling his nose, and he’d get a kiss before you left bed since your class schedules started at the same time most days. You’d make his tea just like he liked it and rubbed his back when he got sick after a big night out, and when you laughed at one of his corny jokes your entire face would light up, a beaming smile that made his whole body ache. You were so gorgeous is physically hurt sometimes because he couldn’t stop staring at you, absorbing just how fucking perfect you were.

It was funny, because dating you wasn’t all that different from being your friend. He still got all the shared dinners and movie nights and hilarious stories the morning after a night out, but now he got to hear them while cuddling you on the couch, your head tucked against his neck. And when you teased him about how much of a boy he was (his snapback was your favorite target) you’d kiss him to make him stop pouting. But he was happy. He was so fucking happy with you.

He was thinking about all of that while you sat on the couch together, his head lying in your lap as you read a book for class, your fingers running through his hair absentmindedly. He was watching you, something he did often and you’d grown used to, and suddenly the overwhelming desire to finally tell you how he felt hit him like a truck.

And unlike previous attempts, he couldn’t stop himself.

“I love you,” he said, the words so simple and sure that they made you stop reading and look down at him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, drawing out the last word and tucking his face into your stomach, peppering kisses over your shirt. For some reason, he wasn’t nervous, knowing you’d say it or not and either way it was okay—he wasn’t expecting you to necessarily be ready. He just couldn’t hide it anymore.

He knew your mind was turning but he just kept kissing you, knowing the action would calm your anxious thoughts. “I love you too,” you finally said after a beat, and he looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you idiot,” you answered, setting your book down on the couch and smiling at him. “Wasn’t expecting to tell you quite like this, though.”

“How were you planning to tell me?”

You shrugged, rubbing a circle on his forehead. “Dunno. Something more monumental, I guess? I know you like all those romance movies, so I thought maybe something like in one of those.”

He adored the fact that you wanted to make it special, that you’d thought about it, but he just shook his head at you. “I don’t need it to be monumental,” he told you, brushing his fingers along your chin. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” he said, sitting up and grabbing your hips, swinging you onto his lap with your laughter raining down on him. “Never going to stop telling you how perfect you are.”

He hooked his fingers on your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, one of those ones that made your thoughts all mushy and his heart pound in his chest because sometimes the way he felt about you just made his whole body go silent except for his heart. Or, at least it felt that way.

“Love you,” he mumbled against your lips, eyes catching yours.

“Love you more,” you replied, kissing his nose softly.

“Are we going to be one of those couples that is constantly competing over who loves the other person more?” He asked, nestling his head in the space between your shoulder and neck, settling there as your fingers swept through his hair. You wrapped around him like this was his favorite place to be.

“Probably,” you answered simply, a tender kiss to the side of his head. “Now, does this mean you’ll make dinner tonight? I’ve got a paper to edit.”

He laughed into your shoulder, picking his head up to look at you. “You make it sound like I don’t make dinner practically every night.”

You shrugged, a playful smile on your face. “You’re just better at it.”

“False, but I’ll take the compliment.”

“God, your ego has got to be massive now,” you mumbled, and he laughed, smile stretching across his face and dimples poking out.

“Alright, go start on your essay and I’ll cook something for us. Sound good?”

You beamed at him. “Perfect.” You bounced off his lap, grabbing your book and heading for your old room. “Love you!”

The words were called over your shoulder and Harry smiled at how perfect they sounded on your lips, how easy it was to answer back simply, “Love you more,” at your receding figure, the thought gracing his mind at how he’d like to be saying those words to you for a very, very long time.

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