#hot boi got ROLLED by the Assembly though

[fayeforrosie]

The Only One I Want

Part 1

Karina x Fem! Reader

Karina knew she was pretty. She knew she had a chance with everyone, however, she was forever against any romantic relationships ever since she became an idol. Why would she want anyone when all they ever do is love her for her fame and looks? She knew she could never find anyone perfect for her, so she gave up on romance... until she met you

Word Count- 2.8k

Warnings- Mention of men 

Week after week Karina was cursed with yet another blind date set up by her company. She would urgently burst into her managers room, promptly falling down onto her knees, hands speedily racing against each other as if she was bound to make a fire, begging to go at least a month without any blind dates. 

To her dismay, however, not surprise, her manager would always shake her head firmly. “We need you to do this for us Karina. Do you have any idea how much attention would follow us if Yu Jimin was to find the perfect man?” She would say, and all Karina could do was sigh, walking out of the room with her head hung to her feet. 

It was another day in which her company had set up a date once again, this time, they informed her it would be at one of Seoul’s most popular art museums, where she would be meeting the man in about an hour from now. 

Karina couldn’t help but dread the upcoming event, knowing that her members got to stay back at the company and practice whatever they wished with their dance instructor, as there was no schedule for them this day. 

Karina wished she could be apart of that. She wished she could be in the dance practice room, and she reminisced with the feeling of laughter and sweat filling the air of the unreasonably hot place. It was all she wanted... to spend time with her members doing stupid “idol shit" on her days off. 

Yes, she was an idol, not a dating show contestant. Why couldn’t her company see this? 

And on top of everything, she had never been fond of dating, as every possible boy she’s met was only ever after her looks, or how much money was in her pockets. “Why don’t I take you home tonight”, she heard almost constantly after every date. It was upsetting to say the least, and as a result, Karina turned down any possible instance in which a boy could waltz their way into her heart. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted her members. She wanted to be on stage. She wanted to be in the studio. 

Instead, Karina found herself in the back of her managers car, mask almost suffocating her face as her hat floated just above her line of vision. Although she went on many dates, she was always forced to cover her identity, as her manager elucidated how bad it would be if the public was to see their sweetheart being accompanied by a new man every week. They wanted her to find the right one, then she could freely express herself to the public (though she knew it would never happen). 

“We’ve almost arrived, make sure you put your glasses on before you step out.” Her manger expressed from the passenger seat, where she responded with a small nod. If her mask was clipped on any tighter, she swore her manger would be able to see her frown seeping through. 

Only a minute later, the car pulled to a stop, just beside an almost identical car in the parking lot. Karina stepped out, her glasses now shielding her eyes as the door to the adjacent car rolled open just in front of her. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jimin”, a voice could be heard in front of her. 

Karina raised her head, gaze connecting with the man in front of her. 

Lee Jae Wook, I never thought I would meet him, Karina thought to herself.

Despite the immense amount of meetings her company would assemble, they never would tell Karina which man she would be seeing, and she hated it. 

She remembers the time when she had shown up at an excessively fancy restaurant, only to be met with Mark Tuan seated comfortably in the chair ahead of her. Or when Kris Wu sat adequately on the most ugly patterned blanket, with a messy endeavor of a picnic by its side, bottles of alcohol spilling onto the grass, Kris’s attempt at getting Karina drunk and taking her home... god what a terrible date that was. 

“Call me Karina”, she said, ignoring the evident hand reaching out, awaiting to be shaken. Karina didn’t like when anyone other then her members, or family, was to call her by her birth name. She believed that only those who knew her personally were given the ability to call her by something so precious, not some random actor practically drooling as he soaked in her presence. 

“Yes of course, my apologies”, Jae Wook nodded and extended his arm for the girl to take, and if it wasn’t for Karina’s manager lightly pushing her into the man, she would have smacked his arm down instantly. 

With that, the two began into the museum, her arm loosely wrapped around his, and Jae Wook’s excessive amount of cologne being the only thing Karina could smell. 

God this is terrible. I need to get home.

“Welcome! It’s a pleasure to have you two joining us today!” An abnormally tall woman greeted them at the entrance. “Call me Ha-Eun! I’ll be your tour guide for today’s visit”, Karina shook her hand with a fake smile plastered onto her face. 

“Thank you”, Karina expressed, and followed the woman as she took them through security and into the main hall of the museum. The place was exceptionally beautiful, and Karina was sure that if she were to be accompanied by her members instead of this man, her experience would be one to remember. 

But she wasn’t. She was stuck clinging onto the man as they followed the tour guide into the first exhibit, knowingly peering at him as his eyes were trained on the woman’s ass while she walked ahead of them. 

In all honestly, Karina couldn’t care less. She could turn the corner and see Jae Wook kissing another woman and she wouldn’t even bat an eye. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t bother her. Nevertheless, she knew that was impossible, because as soon as Karina thought he would leave her alone and take in his surroundings instead, he intertwined his fingers with her, and as she tried to pull away, he gave her hand a tug, almost as if he was warning her to not even try. 

To say Karina was uncomfortable was an understatement. The two of them followed the tour guide throughout the museum, and all Karina could think about was how sweaty and nasty the man’s hand felt in the grasp of hers. 

It has been a half an hour since they began to look around, and as they were stopped in front of a beautiful piece Karina couldn’t help but admire, Jae Wook spoke up. 

“I need to use the bathroom, would you mind staying here?” He directs his attention towards Karina. 

God yes. I'd be more than happy to. Please leave and never come back, Karina thought. 

“Sure.” 

The tour guide stepped in front of Jae Wook before he could make his way out. 

“I can show you the way! There isn’t one very close to here, it’s a bit of a walk.” She happily spoke, eyes almost unseen as a result of her never-resting smile. It must be tiring having that job, Karina thought, with having to keep a smile on your face without the slightest falter, even in the case of an inconvenience. She could never do that. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it”, Jae Wook spoke formally. “I’ll be right back”, he spoke once more, leaning down and planting a dry kiss atop of Karina’s forehead, and she almost gagged. 

The two made their way to the nearest bathroom, and there Karina stood, still at the fore of the painting. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it, it was truly beautiful. The way the colors complimented each line, as though the picture could truly come to live. It was remarkable. 

Being lost in her own thoughts, Karina failed to notice the woman that walked towards her and stood just about three feet away. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t.”

Karina’s ears chirped at the sound of the feminine voice, and she turned her head to glare at whoever had made the comment, however she was immediately met with the side profile of what seemed to be an angel. 

Karina had never seen anyone so captivating. The way your gaze was held beautifully on the artwork, where the piece couldn’t even compare to how prepossessing your visuals were. It was like she was at a loss of air, and she had never felt this feeling before. Karina has never been so lost for words, as it was usually the other way around, where the man was to look at Karina like they had never seen anyone as stunning as her.

Now, eyes still trained on your profile, she can understand how these men felt when they claimed to be awestruck. 

“...y- yeah”, Karina was still in a trance, making it hard for her to complete a full sentence. 

“I always come back to this piece whenever I visit, its magnificent”, you glanced over to her, and before you could meet her gaze, her eyes flashed back to the wall in an instant. 

“Um...”, she needed to keep talking to you, so she tried to start up a conversation, where she again was never the one to do so. 

“How often do you come here?” Karina asked, this time her eyes on you, and when you turned around to respond, her cheeks began to match the color of your beautifully pink lips. 

How could someone be so engaging? 

“Usually once a month, its like my happy place”, you allow a small chuckle to escape past your lips, as does Karina. 

“That’s really cool”, Karina smiles, her voice wavering as she tried to keep calm, and she continued.

“Do you have any other works that you like?”

Karina watched as your eyes scanned the wall full of beautiful artwork, deciding if there was another that met up to the standard of the one you stood ahead of, however you shake your head. 

“I love them all, but this one is my favorite”, you smile and Karina could practically hear her heart skip a beat. 

Karina has never felt the feeling of butterflies in her stomach until now. She has never been so captivated by someone’s presence until now. She has never wanted to hold a conversation with a stranger until now. You made her want to do everything at this very moment. Karina wanted to grab your hand and walk you outside just to continue to talk about your love for art. She could listen to you all day.

Could a woman feel this way for a woman? Karina never thought of woman in that type of sense, as she was only ever set up with men her entire live, so it was inevitable that her heart was trained to find attraction towards the gender. Maybe meeting you thirty seconds ago was a sign that her heart could possibly open up to someone. And not just anyone... a woman. 

“Want to know why I like this painting so much?” You asked, and began to move a bit closer to her body, still keeping a comfortable distance. 

Come closer, Karina thought. 

“Why?” 

You smiled and leaned in, "because I made it”, you uttered faintly. 

And there it was. The exact moment that Karina determined she could truly find romance in somebody. Nobody had ever made Karina feel such a thing, and she thought she might as well die alone, since nobody had ever held her attention. But she was wrong. Here you were, in the flesh, completely ripping the heart of Yu Jimin out of her entire body, unbeknownst to you. 

“Are you serious?” That was all Karina could muster out, otherwise she might as well shout to the world that she found the one for her. 

“Yeah. It was accepted into the gallery about six months ago. Cool right?” 

God you had no idea how many butterflies were roaming the district of Karina insides. 

“Y- yeah... that’s amazing”, she smiled and went on. “What’s your name?” 

You gave her a warm-hearted smile and pointed over to the painting, where Karina was now faced with sign just bellow the piece. 

Y/n Yl/n

How beautiful, was as Karina could think. 

“How about you? What’s your name?” 

It was natural that you didn’t recognize the woman, as she was dressed in the least revealing clothes there ever was to be, a mask on her face accompanied by the hat she had on in the car, and lastly a pair of circular glasses. She didn’t expect you to know who she was with such a disguise, but she hoped you were to realize once she took her mask and glasses off. 

Maybe if Karina showed you who she really was, you would end up being a huge fan, and immediately want to continue talking to her. Nobody could ever pass up on the chance of becoming close with an idol, so it should be the same regarding you, right? 

Karina allowed her thoughts to race ahead of herself, and she pulled her mask down, her glasses following. 

She saw when it clicked in your mind, that you were being faced with the Karina of Aespa, one of the most famous fourth generation idols there is to be. She felt pride, and for the first time, she was happy someone was to recognize who she was. 

Nonetheless, exactly opposite of what Karina had thought would happen, your lips turned upwards into a fair smile, and you nodded your deliberately. 

“Ah”, you stated, “Yu Jimin. I’ve seen your face all over.” 

Is that it? Is that all you had to say? You’re not going to ask for a picture? Or even bow? Karina was beyond confused, she had never met anyone who would react with such ease.

In addition, Karina noticed that her brain, usually trained to correct anyone that was to call her by her birth name, refused to tell you the name in which she preferred for others to call her. In fact, she found herself preferring you to call her Jimin apposed to Karina. You were already special enough to her.   

“So you know who I am?” Karina spoke. 

“Doesn’t everybody?” You laughed. “You are even more beautiful in person, it’s surprising.” 

Hearing those words come out of your mouth, Karina couldn’t help but bring her mask back up to her face. She couldn’t let you see how flustered you made her. It was dehumanizing. 

“Oh... thank you.” She looked anywhere but to you. “You’re beautiful as well.” 

You chuckled and looked down just as she did, and if anyone was to take a look over at your interaction, it’s possible they would think the two of you were to not even be associating with each other. 

But, before you could thank the girl, your eyes glanced over at a man who was making his way towards Karina, and you recognized him to be the one you had seen her with preceding your approach. 

“I think it’s time for me to go now, I believe your boyfriend is here for you.” 

Karina’s eyebrows furrowed, her lips frowning at the thought of you leaving so soon, but she turned around to see what you had been referring to, and was met with Jae Wook and the tour guide side by side, making their way towards her.

“No! He’s not my b-” Karina turned around to reassure you, however, her breath hitched, eyes almost even watering as she found that you were instantly gone. 

She felt like a child that had lost their parents at a crowded event, searching aimlessly throughout the area, double... triple looking around to see where you might have gone. But it was too late. 

Jae Wook had then came up by her side and took her hand, and Karina couldn’t even protest, she was too upset. Her mind was somewhere else at the moment. 

She followed Jae Wook, eyes trained on the wooden floor as she thought of you. 

She thought about how heavenly your voice was, like music played softly in her ears, and how magnificent your side profile was to look at. She could stare at it all day if she could. She needed to see your face again. She needed to find you. 

You were the one for her, she determined it. And she will not leave this museum unless it was hand and hand with you 

~

Hi everyone!! I’m backkk!!! I’m not sure exactly how many parts this will have, but I’ll just keep going until I feel the story is complete haha. Stay tuned for part two my loves!! 💕💕

[publicdomainbooks]

THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS.(3)

By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and as Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, and all sorts of rooms, was wonderful. Here, the flickering of the blaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner, with hot plates baking through and through before the fire, and deep red curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness. There all the children of the house were running out into the snow to meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the first to greet them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of guests assembling; and there a group of handsome girls, all hooded and fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some near neighbour’s house; where, woe upon the single man who saw them enter—artful witches, well they knew it—in a glow!

But, if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way to friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was at home to give them welcome when they got there, instead of every house expecting company, and piling up its fires half-chimney high. Blessings on it, how the Ghost exulted! How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its capacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, its bright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach! The very lamplighter, who ran on before, dotting the dusky street with specks of light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed out loudly as the Spirit passed, though little kenned the lamplighter that he had any company but Christmas!

And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they stood upon a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of rude stone were cast about, as though it were the burial-place of giants; and water spread itself wheresoever it listed, or would have done so, but for the frost that held it prisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery red, which glared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye, and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of darkest night.

“What place is this?” asked Scrooge.

“A place where Miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,” returned the Spirit. “But they know me. See!”

A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and woman, with their children and their children’s children, and another generation beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man, in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon the barren waste, was singing them a Christmas song—it had been a very old song when he was a boy—and from time to time they all joined in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got quite blithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigour sank again.

The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, and passing on above the moor, sped—whither? Not to sea? To sea. To Scrooge’s horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled and roared, and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.

Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or so from shore, on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of sea-weed clung to its base, and storm-birds—born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of the water—rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed.

But even here, two men who watched the light had made a fire, that through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands over the rough table at which they sat, they wished each other Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and one of them: the elder, too, with his face all damaged and scarred with hard weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might be: struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale in itself.

Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea—on, on—until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.

It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose depths were secrets as profound as Death: it was a great surprise to Scrooge, while thus engaged, to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Scrooge to recognise it as his own nephew’s and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his side, and looking at that same nephew with approving affability!

“Ha, ha!” laughed Scrooge’s nephew. “Ha, ha, ha!”

If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blest in a laugh than Scrooge’s nephew, all I can say is, I should like to know him too. Introduce him to me, and I’ll cultivate his acquaintance.

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Scrooge’s nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge’s niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out lustily.

“Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

“He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!” cried Scrooge’s nephew. “He believed it too!”

“More shame for him, Fred!” said Scrooge’s niece, indignantly. Bless those women; they never do anything by halves. They are always in earnest.

She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made to be kissed—as no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature’s head. Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory.

“He’s a comical old fellow,” said Scrooge’s nephew, “that’s the truth: and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him.”

“I’m sure he is very rich, Fred,” hinted Scrooge’s niece. “At least you always tell me so.”

“What of that, my dear!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “His wealth is of no use to him. He don’t do any good with it. He don’t make himself comfortable with it. He hasn’t the satisfaction of thinking—ha, ha, ha!—that he is ever going to benefit US with it.”

“I have no patience with him,” observed Scrooge’s niece. Scrooge’s niece’s sisters, and all the other ladies, expressed the same opinion.

“Oh, I have!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “I am sorry for him; I couldn’t be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims! Himself, always. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won’t come and dine with us. What’s the consequence? He don’t lose much of a dinner.”

“Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner,” interrupted Scrooge’s niece. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight.

“Well! I’m very glad to hear it,” said Scrooge’s nephew, “because I haven’t great faith in these young housekeepers. What do you say, Topper?”

Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge’s niece’s sisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge’s niece’s sister—the plump one with the lace tucker: not the one with the roses—blushed.

“Do go on, Fred,” said Scrooge’s niece, clapping her hands. “He never finishes what he begins to say! He is such a ridiculous fellow!”

Scrooge’s nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to keep the infection off; though the plump sister tried hard to do it with aromatic vinegar; his example was unanimously followed.

“I was only going to say,” said Scrooge’s nephew, “that the consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can’t help thinking better of it—I defy him—if he finds me going there, in good temper, year after year, and saying Uncle Scrooge, how are you? If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds, that’s something; and I think I shook him yesterday.”

It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking Scrooge. But being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at, so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment, and passed the bottle joyously.

After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew what they were about, when they sung a Glee or Catch, I can assure you: especially Topper, who could growl away in the bass like a good one, and never swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over it. Scrooge’s niece played well upon the harp; and played among other tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing: you might learn to whistle it in two minutes), which had been familiar to the child who fetched Scrooge from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost of Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the things that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; he softened more and more; and thought that if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with his own hands, without resorting to the sexton’s spade that buried Jacob Marley.

But they didn’t devote the whole evening to music. After a while they played at forfeits; for it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself. Stop! There was first a game at blind-man’s buff. Of course there was. And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between him and Scrooge’s nephew; and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker, was an outrage on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping against the piano, smothering himself among the curtains, wherever she went, there went he! He always knew where the plump sister was. He wouldn’t catch anybody else. If you had fallen up against him (as some of them did), on purpose, he would have made a feint of endeavouring to seize you, which would have been an affront to your understanding, and would instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn’t fair; and it really was not. But when at last, he caught her; when, in spite of all her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his pretending that it was necessary to touch her head-dress, and further to assure himself of her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain chain about her neck; was vile, monstrous! No doubt she told him her opinion of it, when, another blind-man being in office, they were so very confidential together, behind the curtains.

Scrooge’s niece was not one of the blind-man’s buff party, but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrooge were close behind her. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was very great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge’s nephew, beat her sisters hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as Topper could have told you. There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all played, and so did Scrooge; for wholly forgetting in the interest he had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed quite right, too; for the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge; blunt as he took it in his head to be.

The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon him with such favour, that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. But this the Spirit said could not be done.

“Here is a new game,” said Scrooge. “One half hour, Spirit, only one!”

It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrooge’s nephew had to think of something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn’t made a show of, and wasn’t led by anybody, and didn’t live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:

“I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!”

“What is it?” cried Fred.

“It’s your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!”

Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to “Is it a bear?” ought to have been “Yes;” inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had any tendency that way.

“He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure,” said Fred, “and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I say, ‘Uncle Scrooge!’ ”

“Well! Uncle Scrooge!” they cried.

“A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “He wouldn’t take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!”

Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his nephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.

[fantastica-daily]

The Strange Connection Between Joe Meek and Phil Spector

This is a special sneak peek at for the upcoming ROCK & ROLL NIGHTMARES: TRUE STORIES, Vol 2. (You can pre-order the Kindle version here.)

This excerpt is from the chapter LUNATIC FRINGE.

Robert George “Joe” Meek has been described as the British Phil Spector—a vanguard record producer, sound engineer, and songwriter responsible for introducing innovative and unique soundscapes into various artists’ music. However, there would be more to their connection than just music… it’s also murder meted on a certain deadly date that ties them together in infamy.

Born on April 5, 1929, in Gloucestershire, England, Joe was a child prodigy who had a keen interest in tech and performance art. While undoubtedly bright, he never felt good enough because his mother made it plain that she'd wanted a girl instead of a boy. She dressed him according to her wishes for the first four years of his life but eventually, he was allowed to wear pants and tinker with electronics. The future music man assembled various items such as cameras and television sets from scratch to learn how they worked. He became obsessed with outer space and wondered if there was some way he could reach other worlds through his experiments.

As an adult, Joe (who was actually tone-deaf), got into music as a recording engineer and made a name for himself through sheer audacity and using outrageous techniques to get certain sounds. He created his own studio in the London flat he rented, and the first major hit produced there was “Johnny Remember Me,” a trendy death disc ditty about a young man haunted by his departed girlfriend. Sung by John Leyton, the single reached #1 on the U.K. charts in July of 1961.

Joe Meek wrote the space-age instrumental “Telstar” for The Tornados the following year and it took off like, well, a rocket becoming a Billboard Hot 100 smash, making it the first single by a British band to score the top spot on both sides of the Atlantic. More hits started coming from the modest, unorthodox studio on 304 Holloway Road, where Joe encouraged musicians to play their instruments in the loo or staggered on the staircase as he manipulated their sound electronically. Tornados drummer Clem Cattini recalled, “The studio was bizarre. I mean the drums were in the fireplace! But it was incredible, the sounds he could get out of that studio, the equipment he used, and what he recorded ‘Telstar’ with. Modern equipment could not get anywhere near it.”

A year after “Telstar” was released, Joe was detained for cottaging—having homosexual relations with a hustler in a standalone public bathroom (city toilets at the time were fashioned to look like cottage houses, hence the tag). Just being gay was illegal in the U.K. at the time and the high-profile arrest was a major blow to the closeted producer. He was fined £15 at Clerkenwell Magistrates’ Court after pleading guilty to “persistently importuning for an immoral purpose.” (At least they didn’t make him say it five times, fast.)

Even though his secret was out, Joe became a target for blackmailers. Then he clashed with London’s most notorious dangerous gangsters, the Kray Twins—evidently, Ronnie Kray, who, incidentally, was also gay, demanded that Meek hand over management of The Tornados and was refused.

As the musical landscape shifted in the mid-1960s, Joe couldn’t keep up. The thirtyish stuffed shirt pooh-poohed The Beatles and advised a band in search of a vocalist to forget about hiring Rod Stewart. Not that he necessarily wanted to keep up—the acclaimed producer was becoming obsessed with the idea of communicating with the dead and that became his focus. He would slip recording devices into cemeteries hoping to catch the voices of spirits floating around in the Great Beyond… but all he got was a cat’s meow. An undaunted Joe became convinced that a human spirit was trapped in the feline body and the mews were in fact calls for help.

He was especially fixated on rock & roll singer Buddy Holly, whose death he claimed to have foreseen through a deck of tarot cards. Joe’s failure to somehow prevent the plane crash that killed the “Peggy Sue” singer on February 3, 1959, weighed heavily on his fragile mind. As far as he was concerned, February 3 was the most cursed on the calendar—as it turned out, he was right… or, through self-fulfilling prophecy, he made it so.

Clem Cattini, The Tornados’ drummer, remembered an incident he witnessed that gave him pause. Apparently, Phil Spector called from America and after talking to him for just a few minutes, Joe flew into a rage and smashed the telephone to bits. He explained to Clem that Phil was stealing his techniques by employing Joe’s landlady as a spy... or maybe the Wall of Sound whiz was eavesdropping from the studio’s bathroom via supernatural intervention. He couldn’t decide. Even though the band knew of their engineer’s eccentricities, bassist Heinz Burt left his hunting rifle with Joe for safekeeping.

One thing after another toppled Joe’s life like so many dominoes of disaster. His financial backing was pulled; he was involved in a lawsuit with a French film composer over the melody that defined “Telstar;” and he was beaten up by anonymous ruffians more than once.

Things came to a head when Joe was warned he’d be questioned about the headline-grabbing “Suitcase Murder” of 17-year-old Bernard Oliver—the boy had been raped, killed, cut into eight pieces, and then his remains were stashed inside luggage which was dumped into a field. Some state the two men had no connection whatsoever, while others say Bernard had worked off and on at Joe’s studio as a tape-stacker. In any case, Scotland Yard publicly declared their intention to question every gay man they knew of in London, which would, of course, include Meek because of his prior arrest. As his fear blossomed and his mental health decayed, the musical maverick began to believe aliens were using him as a communication device and he was terrified that he’d say the wrong thing to the police.

On the morning of Friday, February 3, 1967, the eighth anniversary of Buddy Holly’s death, Joe’s studio assistant, Patrick Pink, went to work as usual. Tape-stackers were there, and Joe was busy burning letters, documents, and paintings in the bathtub. Rather than speaking, Joe communicated with Patrick by handwritten notes—he still thought his place was bugged and that his landlady was listening through the fireplace. The last note read, “I’m going now. Goodbye.” Patrick had no idea what the words really meant.

Once his tasks were done, Joe dismissed his tape-stackers for the day and he asked one of them to send the landlady, 56-year-old Mrs. Violet Shenton, up to the third-floor studio for a quick word. She resided elsewhere but worked in her retail shop on the ground level every day.

Patrick, who was in the send-floor office below the studio heard them shouting, then Violet said, “Calm down, Joe.” Her remark was answered by several loud bangs. The shocked studio assistant rushed from the room only to see Violet tumbling down the stairs with bullet holes “smoking” in her back. He then raced upstairs and caught a glimpse of 37-year-old Joe Meek disappearing into his control room. He heard the shotgun being reloaded and before he could wonder if the next bullets were for him, he heard his troubled boss take his own life with Heinz Burt’s single-barrel blaster.

Four years after his death, Joe Meek was found innocent of plagiarism and his considerable royalties were paid to his estate. Precisely 36 years after his death, on February 3, 2003, Joe Meek’s rival, Phil Spector, shot and killed a woman named Lana Clarkson.

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

I LOVE your meta on how essek was the perfect asset and want to ask the follow-up question in your tags: how do you think it went down? The agreement between Essek and the Assembly? And I think the fandom was convinced Essek would be disposed of after the peace talks — how do you see his future if there was no intervention by the Mighty Nein in 97?

ruvi-muffin asked:

What are your specific thoughts abt how ludinus recruited essek??👀👀 oh Person who knows a surprising amount of spy stuff 🙏🙏🙏👀👀👀

Anonymous asked:

PLEASE share your specific thoughts about how Essek was recruited, I'm so intrigued!

Anonymous asked:

Hello yes i am very interested in these very specific thoughts about how Essek got recruited? All these things about how actual intelligence works/uses their assets/how that ties to Essek and the M9 is really interesting :D

Thank you all so much for asking me the specific question I wanted someone to ask. I had to write and rewrite this post a half-dozen times because I kept going off on tangents about other Cold War spy stories so trust me there’s plenty more where this came from.

For reference, my original post on what made Essek an ideal recruitment target and why the M9 were the ideal counter to it.

First off, this is all based on real-world intelligence ops and is only as relevant to the campaign as Matt Mercer cares to make it. Having said that *slams notebook on table* BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

There are two ways Essek may have been recruited: he approached the Assembly or the Assembly approached him. I think the Assembly approached him. Not to be too hard on the guy, but Essek said it himself: he’s kind of a coward. I can’t see him mustering up the nerve to take that first step. Plus his espionage seems to have focused specifically on the beacons rather than dunamancy as a whole; that sounds like the Assembly to me. The beacons specifically offer the prospect of immortality and the Cerberus mages are arrogant enough to assume they can figure out dunamancy themselves if they have a beacon in hand. There’s no way the Assembly haven’t been trying to beg, borrow, or steal those beacons for centuries. Essek may not have even been their first try - just the first that worked. 

Chronologically, Essek would have popped up on either the Assembly or the Augen Trust’s radar quite early as I assume they keep tabs on all powerful Dynasty mages. As they followed his career, the Assembly would have ID’d Essek as a perfect target for recruitment as a spy, and then further for ego-based recruitment. Recruitment for espionage is a slow process - even slower in a fantasy world where some races reasonably expect to live 500+ years. Many intelligence agencies will do a sort of light meet-and-greet just to start a file on various people who might years later be of interest. The Assembly would have cultivated Essek as an intelligence asset with the same degree of time and care - and using some of the same methods - that Trent used to turn the Blumenthal trio into assassins. 

If they followed a modern playbook, they would have made contact with Essek anywhere from 2 to 10 years before the theft - nothing underhanded. A Cerberus mage approaches him at a negotiation or conference and strikes up a conversation. Then it’s increasing “chance” encounters to get Essek familiar with the handler, play the “we’re both mages, really we’re on the same side” angle to earn enough sympathy & trust to start talking regularly. Once the channel’s open, the handler and asset meet and/or talk routinely while the handler assesses the target’s motives, weaknesses, and the possibility that they’re a double agent. 

Espionage proper then starts with small favors, acts Essek can rationalize as victimless or even helpful to the Dynasty. In this stage the handler is getting the asset comfortable with engaging in espionage. They reward the asset for what feels like minimal moral trespass. For Essek that would have been praising his research, encouraging avenues of investigation they knew the Dynasty had shut down. Having meetings with Ludinus plays right into the ego trip - the Head of the Assembly himself is taking the time to meet with him! The Assembly gets how important this work is! That keeps Essek isolated from Dynasty members who might convince him to take a step back and builds loyalty to the Assembly over the Dynasty.

Once an asset settles in, espionage becomes easier. Routines get established. Moral hurdles have been overcome. Now the asks get bigger and the rewards get sparser. The handler will suggest larger acts just to get the asset thinking about them, since the more they consider “just hypothetically” how to pull it off, the more likely it is they’ll do it. This is where the idea of stealing the beacons would get introduced (though of course it’s been the goal all along.) I’ll bet the Assembly hinted at all the study that could be done if they could just get to the beacons in person, constantly bemoaning the lack of access. By now Essek sees the Assembly as colleagues in arcane pursuits, kindred minds, unlike the boring, stuffy old mages of the Dynasty. Of course he could outwit the Dynasty’s security and get the beacons to the Assembly - he’s a prodigy, a genius, everyone says so. And it’s not like he was stealing all of them. The consecuted would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

None of this is intended to absolve Essek of personal responsibility. But it provides a context for his actions, and for why he might regret them so much even though he apparently did them willingly. Asset handlers are very, very good at drawing someone willing to commit minor transgressions into far greater crimes. Look at how Trent shaped Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf. He didn’t order them to execute their own parents on day one. He spent years coaxing, tempting, and coercing them into darker and darker crimes, letting them rationalize their own actions at each step, preying on the same vulnerabilities as Essek: isolation (separating the three from other students, telling them their work was secret), ambition (the promise of great arcane power, of shaping the Empire’s destiny), and ego (”we were going to keep the empire safe,” telling them they were gifted, they were chosen).

So how do IRL spies rationalize their actions? Those who spy for reasons of conscience or ideology have done the rationalizing ahead of time, but everyone else has to get there somehow. Some who spy for revenge tell themselves it’s what their superiors deserve, while others tell themselves everyone’s doing it. Some just need a lie to get started (most commonly about who they’re spying for), while others have to keep up the charade all along. Let’s look at a few cases similar to Essek’s that demonstrate just how slippery the slope can be.

Aldrich Ames, a long-term CIA officer slash double agent for the KGB, got suckered in by thinking he could control the situation and wasn’t really hurting anyone. Ames had chronic financial trouble related to excessive drinking & his wife’s lavish lifestyle and in 1985 came up with a plan: he would essentially con the KGB by selling them a minor amount of classified info that he deemed “virtually worthless.” In April he set up the exchange and the KGB paid him $50,000, enough to satisfy his immediate debts. But after actually doing it Ames said he felt he’d now crossed a line he couldn’t step back from, and continued to sell information to the Soviets. By the time he was caught he had, by his own admission, compromised “virtually all Soviet agents of the CIA.”

While some assets just need a lie to get started, others require a delicate dance of self-delusion. Col. George Trofimoff was an Army officer who ran the center where would-be Soviet defectors were assessed & questioned. Trofimoff, a Russian émigré at a young age, was chronically in debt. In 1969 he renewed his acquaintance with his stepbrother back in Russia, now a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church, and began to pass secrets in return for money - but he and his stepbrother never framed the transactions as such. Trofimoff described their meetings as, “very informal. ... First, it was just a conversation between the two of us. He would ask my opinion on this and that--then, he would maybe ask me, 'Well, what does your unit think about it?' Or, 'What does the American government think about it?’” His compensation was similarly informal: “I said I needed money. ... And he says, 'I tell you what, I'll loan it to you.' So he gave me, I think, 5,000 marks and then, it wasn't enough, because I needed more. ... Then he says, 'Well, you know, I'll tell you what. You don't owe me any money. And if you need some more, I can give you some more. Don't worry about it. You're going to have to have a few things, this and that.' And this is how it started.” Trofimoff could pretend to himself that he wasn’t really spying - just having a chat with his stepbrother - and wasn’t really getting paid for it - just borrowing a little money.

This got longer than I intended it to be and there’s still plenty to talk about, so I’ll save the rest for a second post. Next time: what happens long-term to espionage assets? And what happens if an asset regrets their actions and/or attempts to cut off contact with their handlers?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

[coramatus]

Another Under the City Streets writing snippet

Follows directly after this

(…)

“This has got to be the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages,” the giant gray Stantler snickers at the spectacle before them.

“Tch… serves him right,” Calaba huffs dourly as she draws close. “‘Bout time that boy faced some consequences for constantly running his mouth like that.” She gives Mai a sidelong glance, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Mai shrugs easily, watching the scene unfolding before her with a barely concealed smile.

On the other hand, the Electrode’s movements have become significantly twitchier, occasional sparks shooting off their wooden body as they roll back and forth in rising anxiety. It’s not until Emmet’s hand grazes Melli’s long hair that they finally have enough.

“Hang on, Melli!” the Electrode shouts, power surging around them as they ready an attack.

Thankfully, the other Nobles are quick to surround them and calm them down.

“Hey, hey, no need to pull a Self-Destruct here!” the Lilligant protests, setting herself before the giant ghost fish as it nervously hovers away from Electrode’s sparks.

The Axe-Scyther subtly corralls the Electrode back, carefully blocking their view with their axe blades, “Yeah! Don’t worry, Melli’s fine!”

“I am not fine!!” Melli shouts as he dashes past, Emmet still hot on his heels.

“See?!” the Electrode retorts.

But before they can do anything, the Arcanine joins the blockade. This is enough to give the Electrode pause, long for the Arcanine to shyly point out, “Hey, listen, if Melli was in any real danger, the other Wardens would step in to help, right? They wouldn’t let one of their own get hurt.”

“Excuse you?!” an indignant Melli cuts in from the distance, “I am in very real danger here!!!”

“He is in danger of my fist!” Emmet agrees.

“ENOUGH!”

A massive set of vibrant purple claws abruptly blocks Emmet’s path and he screeches to a halt before them. With Emmet stopped, Melli takes the opportunity to dive behind the scowling Electrode before fearfully peeking over the Noble’s spherical bulk.

Emmet’s eyes follow the absurdly long, thick claws up to a heavyset arm that leads up to the face of another creature that he’s never seen before.

It looks like a Sneasel.

Albeit a light purple one that had somehow been stretched out into more humanoid proportions, standing well over a head above him. The only exception is that what should have been a decently-sized pair of claws on each paw have turned into a trio of enormous curved dark purple hooks, their backs streaked in magenta. A yellow diamond-shaped gem sits squarely on its forehead and another on the center of its fluffy chest. Where the typical Sneasel ear feather should be, there is a long, purple ribbon-like plume, its underside a shocking shade of magenta.

The strange Pokémon flicks this plume aside with a dismissive brush of the claws, not unlike a conceited ponytailed teenager, before leveling a crimson glare at the assembled humans and Pokémon.

“You all have said more than is warranted,” they barks sharply, their upper lip raised to reveal sharp fangs in a menacing sneer. “I’m taking over from here.”

Most of the said humans have the decency to look abashed.

Most of them…

“Lady Sneasler—!” Melli protests, his face red with indignant fury.

“I know him better than any of you,” she declares, glaring at Melli, her voice booming with volume that strikes a familiar chord in Emmet. He stares at her in surprise as she growls, “The final say on the Woodsman is mine alone. Your opinions are merely that.”

Mai bows in deference, “As you wish, Lady Sneasler.”

The others follow in her stead, though Melli is slower to do so.

Lady Sneasler’s massive claws gesture at Emmet for him to follow as she starts walking away, “Come, brother of the Woodsman. We have much to discuss.”

“I am Emmet!” he answers as he races up to her side, easily keeping pace with her. His eyes are hopeful as he grins up at her, “I have many questions!”

“And I will answer them in due time, Emmet,” Lady Sneasler says without looking at him, focusing instead on the path before her.

“Great! Where are we going?”

“Somewhere away from prying eyes and ears,” is all the tall Pokémon has to say on the matter.

(…)

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Days and Nights are Long

Pairing: clueless!Colin Shea x clueless!fem Reader

Words: ~4K

Summary: You and Colin are being idiots and it’s driving his band crazy.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, squirting), idiots in love, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: It took way longer than I had planned but here’s some more of our drunk, musical idiots in love for you hoes!!! I love them so, even though they’re morons. Tagging my Colin babes @starlightcrystalline and @wayward-blonde because I know they’ve been waiting for this.

I no longer do taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Colin shook his head and shrugged uncomfortably as he stared at his phone, wracking his brain to think of what exactly he should say to you.

“For fuck’s sake, Shea, just ask her to come up.” Matt looked exasperated, twirling his stick through his fingers as he rolled his eyes when Colin scowled at him.

He’d been moping for the past two weeks, ever since the two of you had slept together. All of his bandmates were getting sick of it, the man was the biggest pouty baby on the face of the planet. If they had to listen to him sing Everybody Hurts one more time they were going to kill him.

So they’d come up with a little plan to get him out of his funk, lining up a gig that would really lend itself better to a female vocalist and feigning innocence when Colin pointed that out. They had really enjoyed hanging out with you on that exceptionally hot evening, and if having you join them again was the only way to get their boy out of his funk, even better. He had actually smiled before pulling his phone out, but then he realized he had no idea what he should say.

The two of you had still been cordial whenever you ran into each other, but there was definitely a strain to your interactions now. No matter how much you both told each other it wasn’t awkward, it was definitely awkward. It was also weird that he was pretty sure you hadn’t come home after 1 AM at all in the last two weeks, and you usually at least spent your weekend nights at some other asshole’s apartment. Not that he’d had any visitors either, but he didn’t want to explore that too much.

He was still staring at his phone screen and trying to come up when some nonchalant greeting that would entice you to come sing with them when the phone was suddenly plucked out of his hand by an exasperated looking Keith, who ignored his spluttering as he typed a quick message before tossing the phone back to him.

“You’re thinking about this too hard.” The bassist said, setting to tuning his instrument and chuckling at the indignant look on Colin’s face.

Colin was about to give a snarky reply when he felt his phone buzz and looked down to see a text from you, grinning when he saw you saying you’d be right up. With an exclamation point! He didn’t even notice the pleased grins his bandmates were giving each other as they watched him start to tune his guitar, plucking a happy little tune and humming to himself.

They were all expecting you to come through the main door from the stairs, so when you shouted hello from behind them after climbing up your fire escape, you were greeted with the sight of five grown men almost jumping out of their skins before turning to greet you.

That grin on your face was enough to make Colin melt, all the awkwardness that had been lingering between you disappearing in an instant when you met each other’s eyes.

“Alright boys!” You took the mic Brad handed you with a warm smile, rolling it in one hand as you trailed the cord through your fingers. “You said you needed my help with something Col, what’s up?”

“Right, these idiots lined up a gig for us without consulting me first.” They all avoided his halfhearted glare with doe eyed innocence, focusing on their instruments. “And, well, the set list isn’t really in my range.”

“Lemme see.” You took the sheet of paper from his hand and scanned it quickly. “That’s a whole lot of girl rock.”

“Yeah, like I said, Ann Wilson and I aren’t really in the same register.” Fuck, it was nice to be able to talk to you again.

“Why don’t you just modulate it, then?” You mumbled absentmindedly.

He gaped like a fish at that question. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it, and even if he had, he wasn’t expecting you to know about modulation.

“If we modulate for him, none of us can hit the harmonies.” Craig piped up from behind the keyboards, and he could have kissed him.

“That right?” You teased, shooting a wicked smirk around at them. “You boys sure you didn’t just miss me?”

Colin tried not to sound too hysterical when he let out a laugh, missing the indulgent eye rolls his band mates were giving behind your backs.

“What do you think, we booked a gig where I can’t sing any of the songs on purpose just so we could hang out again?” Good thing he was pretty, the man was clueless.

“No, you’re not that clever, Col.” He made a mock wounded gesture and you grinned at him, looking over the set list some more. “What kind of gig is this anyway?”

“Yeah, Craig, you never told us what the actual gig was.” Colin and the rest of the band gave the keyboardist a variety of inquisitive stares.

“Uh, it’s a bachelorette party.” He mumbled, avoiding making eye contact with his bandmates when they started groaning.

“Fuck, Craig! I do not want to get felt up by a bunch of drunk, horny women!” Colin threw a balled up sheet of music at you when you started laughing.

“That seems right up your alley, Shea.” You teased, dodging when he threw a pillow from the couch at you. “You don’t want to pick up some rowdy bridesmaid?”

“No, they’re scary aggressive.” He shuddered when he thought about the last bachelorette party they had done, they’d practically ripped the band’s clothes off before they could get out of there.

“Aww, well I’ll be there to shield you this time, sweetie.” You winked at him and moved a little closer to everyone. “Let’s practice, boys. Don’t want to give those girls cause to complain.”

---------------------------------------------------------

It was the day of the gig, and you and Colin had decided to drive together to streamline things. He was waiting in your living room and tapping his foot nervously as he waited for you to finish getting ready, anxious about what actually performing with you would be like.

“Y/N, we need to go!” He never thought you would be the type to take forever getting ready.

“Yeah, I know!” You strolled out to the living room with a grin on your face and he had to swallow a groan. “How do I look?”

“Good, really good.” The way he was looking at you made your grin grow even wider.

The outfit wasn’t even that special, just a denim mini skirt and a tight v-neck tee with a leather jacket. Oh, and thigh high leather boots. It was definitely the boots he was staring at, his eyes trained on the few inches of bare skin between the top of the boots and the hem of your skirt. You gave him a couple minutes to just stare at you before rolling your eyes and strolling towards your front door, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him after you.

“C’mon Shea, we don’t wanna be late.” You scolded, shoving his amp into his hand and slinging his guitar case over your shoulder before heading down the stairs.

He had trouble focusing on the road as he drove you to the bar the party was going to be at, all he wanted to do was memorize the way you looked in that outfit. It was like someone told you exactly what to wear to drive him crazy. Maybe bringing you into this gig hadn’t been the best idea, because all he wanted to do right now was pull over and let you ride him while you weren’t wearing anything except for those boots and that jacket, and maybe whatever lingerie you had on under that outfit.

“Colin, you’re going to miss the turn.” Your voice snapped him out of his little daydream, and he cursed as he took the turn towards the bar a little faster than he would have liked.

“Sorry, just got a little distracted.” He mumbled, slowing down as he turned into the alley behind the bar and put the car in park behind Matt’s van.

The rest of the band was already unloading, waving at you two as Colin shut off his vehicle and you stepped out. You actually gave Craig and Keith little side hugs before you started helping with the unloading, he hadn’t realized you guys had gotten that close over the past week, and for some reason it made him smile.

“How’s it going man?” He didn’t know how he felt about the look Matt was giving him as he helped carry the bass drum inside, it felt suggestive of something. “Y/N seems excited to be here.”

“Yeah, I thought she might be nervous about performing but she’s handling everything like a pro.” He watched you laugh at something Brad said as you worked on connecting your mic. “Maybe we should make her an official member.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Matt just shrugged, laughing when Colin rounded on him and started spluttering.

“I was joking! We can’t just ask Y/N to be in the band!” Could they? Having you around had been a lot of fun, and the band dynamic had helped alleviate some of the tension that had been growing between you two. But seeing you tonight looking like you did and knowing that you were gonna have to have some on stage chemistry to make this work was making him think twice about things. You got a little intense during rehearsals, and the added pressure of being on stage might make him combust if you kicked it up at all.

Matt shook his head at him and set to assembling his kit while the rest of the band started tuning and connecting their instruments. You just sat on a stool and sipped some water, running through a couple vocal exercises absentmindedly as you scrolled through your phone. It only took a couple of minutes for everyone to finish setting up and then it was mic checks all around.

Everything sounded good and balanced after a couple adjustments and the sound guys gave you the thumbs up to start warming up. Colin couldn’t stop watching you. You were so unbelievably relaxed on stage and it was just endearing you to him even more. He thought for sure you would have been a bundle of nerves but you seemed to be right in your element, tossing him a couple of lazy grins over your shoulder as you ran through a couple of songs before the partygoers started filtering in.

The band switched to doing some instrumental ambience shit while they waited for the party to really get going, and Colin wandered over to talk to you when you took a step back from your mic.

“Still feeling ok about this?” He asked, beaming back at the soft smile you gave him.

“Yeah, I’m excited.” You bounced on your toes a little, adrenaline flooding your veins as the crowd grew. “Think I’ll get any bras thrown at me?”

“You never know with bachelorettes.” He laughed, strolling back over to his own mic so he could introduce the band.

If he thought jamming with you was special, it was nothing compared to watching you perform. You were a goddamn natural, coming alive and feeding off the crowd’s energy until you were completely lost in the music. Every time his eyes met yours you were grinning at him, and your chemistry with the rest of the band was palpable.

Not to mention, you kept drifting close to him on the stage, brushing your hand over his shoulders or leaning against him when you harmonized and it was making his knees weak. , God, he could do this with you every night, even though he was pretty sure he was going to need to sneak into the bathroom to jerk off afterwards.

The show was over too soon, the extremely drunken crowd of rowdy bachelorettes finally getting crazy enough that the band was ready to make a hasty escape. You were bouncing on your toes with residual energy as you started helping the guys pack up their instruments, grabbing Colin’s amp after he shoved his guitar in the case and you both made a run for it to his car when a wobbly woman started to try to climb on the stage.

“Colin, holy fuck that was so much fun!” You managed to make it to the alley unscathed and were giving him the most heartbreaking grin. “We’re definitely doing this again.”

“Yeah? Well you did a great fucking job.” Goddamn it, he’d missed you. “We can do whatever you want, honey.”

“Really?” You slammed the trunk closed and started to prowl closer to him. “Whatever I want?”

“That is what I said.” He could feel his voice dropping into that low register that meant he was in desperate need of some sort of release, so he really hoped he wasn’t misreading this situation. “Why? Did you want something now?”

“I think I do.” Your chest was right against his and you could feel it heaving, gazing at him through your lashes while you ran your fingers over his abs. “I stole the keys to the van.”

“And, you wanna go on a joy ride?” He breathed deep when you brushed your lips over his, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Or, we could just fuck in the back while the rest of the guys search for these.” You pulled back a little and jingled the keys in his face, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth while he ran his hands over your hips.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” He smashed his lips to yours and let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your ass while the two of you stumbled towards the side door of the van.

You fumbled with the keys for a minute because you didn’t want to take your mouth off Colin for any reason, but then you were sliding the door open and the two of you were falling inside in a tangle of limbs before somehow managing to kick the door closed behind you. Trying to undress each other was a little difficult with how wrapped up you were in each other but you managed, tossing your garments away haphazardly as your tongues curled tangled together. Colin grabbed your hands when you went to remove your boots, pulling them up to his face and kissing your palms before winding your arms around his neck.

“Keep those on.” His voice was a low growl and fuck, you forgot how sexy he was.

“Well, cannot say I’m surprised you're a little kinky, Col.” You wound your fingers through his hair and yanked, purring at the groan he gave you. “I’m gonna suck that pretty dick of yours, but then I’ll give it to you nice and rough.”

“God, baby.” He wished he didn’t sound so whiny when you started kissing your way down his chest, but he hadn’t gotten any release except from his hand for the past two weeks and he really needed you to keep doing what you were doing. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“Yeah? Knew you were a good boy.” You winked at him when you started kissing the skin above the band of his boxer briefs before you were yanking them down his thighs and immediately licking a heavy stripe up the underside of his cock when it sprung up against his abs.

Colin had to brace a hand against the side of the van when you worked him over, spitting on his tip and watching it drip down his length before spreading it over him with your lips. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave him a nice, smooth stroke as you ducked down between his length to press gentle kisses over his balls while you jerked him off. He almost choked on his tongue when you wrapped your lips around his sack and tugged softly, the hum you let out sending a vibration up his spine while your thumb swiped over his swollen tip.

The sounds he was making from just a handjob were enough to soak through the thin lace of your panties, and when he shouted your name when you moved a little lower and teased your tongue over his asshole, well you almost fucking came just from that. You couldn’t believe you had stupidly waited two fucking weeks before indulging in this man again, you finally felt like yourself again. It was driving you absolutely crazy, the way his hips were wriggling underneath you spurring you on until you couldn’t take it any more.

If he thought your hand was incredible, it was nothing compared to the feel of your lips wrapped around his tip while your tongue swirled around his sensitive head. With all the women he’d slept with, he’d definitely suffered through some mediocre and downright disappointing blow jobs. But you felt like you were about to suck the soul out of him, and you’d only just started.

“Ah, Christ.” He was going to pass out if you kept going like this, your mouth was like fucking heaven. “Honey, fuck.”

You shot him a wicked look when you started bobbing your head, taking him just a little deeper each time while your tongue curled around him as much as possible. Then you opened your throat and swallowed him whole and he lost his mind.

He wrapped his hand in your hair and held your head still as he started fucking your throat, his hips bucking wildly while you choked and sputtered around him. Drool was running down your chin and soaking his thighs as you started breathing through your nose, digging your fingers into his thighs while he used you like a fuck toy. You kept your tongue pressed flat against your bottom teeth to avoid choking on it, moaning softly when you tasted the salty tang of his precum hit your tongue. His grip on your hair was growing painful, and you could tell by the way his abs were twitching that he was close.

“Wait, ah shit!” He somehow managed to gather enough self control to pull out of your mouth, groaning at the long string of saliva that kept you connected even as you bit at your swollen lips. “I’m not coming unless it’s in that pretty pussy. How do you want it?”

“Fuck me from behind, Col.”

He growled as he sat up and smashed his lips to yours, savoring the taste of himself on your tongue before flipping your over and burying his face in your hair. You let out a low moan when he slammed into you with no warning, gasping at the punishing pace he was setting and purring when he started mouthing at your neck.

The van was shaking like some sort of cliche while Colin fucked into you with abandon, his hips bouncing off your ass in an obscene display while the two of you whined and panted together. Colin was going to lose his fucking mind, two weeks with barely even talking to you and now he was finally inside you it was all he could do to not go completely feral.

“Oh god, honey.” He was practically whining against your skin when you clenched around him, sucking your ear lobe between his lips while you arched your back and purred for him. “Fuck, you’re so tight and wet. Pussy so fucking good. Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you come.”

“So close, Colin, shit!” You gasped when he hit you deep, curling your body backwards around him and reaching over your shoulder to wind your fingers through his hair and press his lips to yours. “Need that dick so bad. Feel so good when you’re inside me.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He wound one hand around your neck and the other arm around your waist, holding you close while he kissed you deeply and swallowed your wanton mewls with a deep groan. “Come for me.”

His hips ground against you and you slapped the floor of the van when you came, sobbing into his mouth and vibrating underneath him while your pussy strangled his cock. Your teeth nipped at his lips once you were finished, humming happily as he continued fucking you through your high.

“Need more, Colin.” You whimpered when he started slowing down, trying to thrust your hips back towards him as you tried to bring yourself to the edge again. “Harder, I need it.”

“Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you fucking want.” He tugged at your lips with his teeth, squeezing your neck gently and groaning at your soft whimper as you clenched around him. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t respond when he started pounding into you furiously, the way his cock was punching against your soft walls making it a little hard to breathe, never mind thinking. He was hitting every spot you needed him to with each thrust, grunting into your ear each time his hips slammed into you until he felt your breath hitch.

Every time he bottomed out you thought you were going to pass out, the tip of his cock punching against your cervix and making you see stars. It was so good, he was hitting you so deep and smooth you couldn’t believe you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Colin growled when a particularly vicious push had your entire body rising off the floor of the van, your fluttering sigh sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. One more thrust and you lost it, screaming with ecstasy as every muscle in your body vibrated and you squirted all over Colin’s thighs and the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, baby.” Colin was desperate, his rhythm completely gone as he chased his own end while you fluttered around him. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy up until I’m leaking outta you for the next week.”

“Oh god, please.” Your eyes rolled up in your head while you let him use you, his lips tracing your jaw hungrily as you pushed your hips back to meet his. “Give it to me, Colin.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a strangled cry when his hips stuttered, thick, warm ropes of white shooting against your soft walls until he was collapsing on top of you with a sated moan. You tangled your fingers with his above your head as your breathing regulated, his breath hot on your neck while the two of you melted into each other.

“We’re not waiting two weeks again, right?” Colin’s arms wrapped around you as he nuzzled into your hair, his lips spreading in a slow smile when he felt you purr contentedly.

“Nope. I’m definitely gonna need this to happen on the regular.” You turned a little so you could rub your nose against his. “You know, in between our other, normal escapades.”

“Right.” His heart fell a little at that, but maybe just interspersing his trysts with you with his other one night stands would help flush his crush on you out of his system.

Before he had a chance to say anything else there was a sudden pounding at the van door, snapping the two of you out of your haze with a pair of exasperated groans.

“Shea!!!” You untangled yourselves as you started to pull on your clothes. “That had better be Y/N in there! If you sad fucked some bachelorette and we have to listen to you sing stupid breakup songs for the next month I’m going to kill you!”

[locahaz]

shoot your shot - a one shot

a/n: hiiii this is my first posted fic on my refurbished account soon if you see this and you like it, lemme know!! Request some things, I would love to go back into writing. Enjoy x ..................................................................................................................................................................... harry plays on the football team where you are the medic helping out and things get quite interesting when he invites you to his party

warnings: mature content

word count: 11,1k

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I felt it from the moment I had walked on the field with the others. 

Someone was staring at me. Or everyone was. I didn’t look behind me to see if it was true, but I could feel their eyes staring straight at my ass. They asked me to wear athletic clothing for this, so I just chose the first thing in my dresser that I saw, picking out some black yoga pants. The material clung to my butt and I regretted I had put them on the moment I had arrived here. My oversized sweater I chose to wear over it luckily covered my upper half, a decision I did appreciate I made now.

Walking onto the sports centre was nerve-wracking in itself. I liked sports, I liked watching it, but having the possibility of someone else watching you do something was disturbing. I couldn’t find the way I was supposed to go. I didn’t bring my hair tie so I was forced to keep my hair floating around my face and this place was huge. There were several buildings and a squala of fields for specific sports. Indoors, outdoors, you name it. The college was probably sponsored by some wealthy upper class fathers who wanted their sons to be on the radar for new opportunities.

Luckily, I was led right to the canteen which was easily locatable since it had a terrace. A terrace! Lord, I feel like I should’ve worn other clothing for this. 

I approached a team player who had blond hair, feeling the nerves floating around in my stomach, “Uhh… Hi.” 

The boy who was filling up his water bottle turned around, raising his eyebrows, “Hi there.” 

Shit, he was nice. I inhaled, “I was looking for uhh, the football team…” He gave me the same look, “I was asked to help.., or I need to help with their inju-”

“Ahh!” He exclaimed, disregarding his bottle and he turned to fully face me, “You’re the one!”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I guess I am?”

“My name’s Niall.” He held out his hand, “I’m the star player of the time you’ve been assigned to!” 

I shook his hand, smiling a little. “Hi,” We still held hands, “Do you know where I’m supposed to go?” 

Still holding my hand, he began shaking it up and down. “I’m glad we finally have someone.”

“You are?”

“Yeh, we desperately need new people to liven things up a little.” 

I pried my hands from his grip, which wasn’t that strong. But I was already sweating, I didn’t need more reasons to be nervous. “Alright, that sounds good.” 

The pregnant pause that followed made him inhale and pack his bottle in his bag, “You are probably wanted by the football field, which is right there.” 

He pointed out somewhere behind me, making me turn my head. I already saw some players dribbling with the ball, so that was easily recognisable. “Go to the coach, he’s the tallest and biggest one. Has a loud voice too, probably won’t miss him.” He grinned, making me smile up at him. 

“I’ll meet you there in a second, we’re starting in like two minutes.” 

I nodded, “Alright, thanks…”

“Niall.” He answered for me, giving me a wink. “But you can call me anytime.” 

I rolled my eyes at his remark, but by the look on his face and the laugh that followed his statement, I knew it was to lighten my mood and assure me. 

I walked towards the field with a small smile on my face and with a lot less nerves. The players were now assembling and putting their heads together so I walked towards the dug-out and waited for them. There weren’t a lot of spectators or bystanders standing around the field, since it was a friendly game. I inhaled again. This should be fine. I recognized some of the players. They were all from the same college after all. Why did I sign up for this? I’m such an idiot.

When the team was done with sharing strategy and doing their, what appeared to be a yell, the trainer walked towards me. I was nervous when he approached me, he towered over everyone. 

“Hi Mattie,” he said, “You ready?”

I stood there, with my own little bag of supplies in my hand. I nodded. Luckily he spoke to me when I got drafted for this, so I already knew him. What if it was someone else who ended up being the coach? Since our conversation was very brief, you’re a nurse, I’m in need of a carer for the team, the deal was easily made. I didn’t know exactly what to take with me for this, but it was a college football team anyways, so nothing was really high-class. I had put some aspirin, plasters, scissors, antiseptic wipes, bandages and tweezers in my supply bag. That should be enough for a college team right? Surely they wouldn’t crash and fall every single game. He saw me fiddling with the bag, and smiled at me, “Good luck.” 

I nodded at him in gratitude and looked around the field. Gosh, couldn’t I talk? I was punching myself in my head. The trainer, whose name I seemed to have forgotten the second after the interview, sat down on his seat. 

Right now, all the players on the field were starting to go to their positions, other members of staff, the referee, seconds officials and the trainers and staff of the opposing team, all seemed ready to go. It wasn't hot or cold, but the slight breeze that blew over the field chilled me just slightly, making the tip of my nose go red. My job was already halfway done, which is just waiting for something to happen and providing the supplies they needed. If something did happen, I was the chosen person to help the players and fix their injuries. I didn't expect that these games would be very intense anyways. The players often knew each other since the teams were always against other colleges. Today it was just a practise match to start off the season, so I should be fine. 

The minute everyone started and the whistle blew, I wondered where Niall even was. Wasn’t he one of the players? As everyone was running and shouting on the field, I felt like he fit right in. I let my eyes wander. I didn’t know that much about football. I rarely watched the Champions League, I could just about name all the rules. The players, however, were something that did interested me. Especially the ones I already knew.

As I was sitting there, everyone seemed to be in the right place and doing exactly what everyone expected of them. The coach shouted an obnoxious loud praise towards his team, making me jump in my seat. The referee whistled at what suggestiably were the right times. No-one seemed to be getting angry at him. They were getting into it already. It'll probably go fine tonight, and my nerves I had bubbling in my stomach would probably be for nothing. At least, I was hoping for that. I watched the players going for the ball intensely, running after it and passing each other the ball. 

Right as the spirits of the team heightened and they almost scored, Niall crept up from behind me. “You didn’t even give me your name.” 

I shrieked, startling even the trainer who was deep into the game, “Jesus, Niall. Don’t scare me like that.” 

He sat down next to me, “Sorry, babe.” 

“My name’s Mattie.” I said, looking at him briefly. He nodded his head, “Like that.” 

I smiled, turning my head towards the field. “Aren’t you playing?”

He pointed towards his knee, that was covered by his track pants, “This annoying thing won’t let me.” 

“Ahh, that’s too bad.” I grimaced. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, “get to sit next to you.” 

I rolled my eyes again. “You’re not getting any.” 

He burst out laughing, “What! How could you resist me?” 

I playfully smiled at him. I was glad he was here to ease my nerves, “Dunno,” I glanced at the field, “quite like the others.” 

“You already know them?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded, “same college.”

Liam was the goalie. He was broad, quick and could move fast so he was the one that suited that job the most. He was also rough, and shouted really loudly which was a benefit when he would have to coach the team from the goal. He scared opponents off easily, grabbing the ball before they could shoot to keep the score at zero. Liam shared a house with Zayn, Louis and Brad, who were also playing tonight. Zayn was a little bit more of an introvert, and I didn’t really speak to him much. He did show he was a good midfielder though. He was quick and could pass the ball to his teammates effortlessly. When he did score though, he wouldn’t hesitate to cheer loudly and scare everyone with his intensity. 

Brad was a little bit older than the rest, but he was great nonetheless. He was very broad in the shoulders and had legs every gym boy would be jealous of. He was the ex-boyfriend of my sister’s, who also attended this college a few years ago. But to me, he still felt more like an older brother than someone who had been in my sister’s life for years. 

Louis was very serious. He was known for only having one thing on his mind, and that was to score goals. He was quick, could dribble fast and made the stronger players against him look back at him in surprise. Others called him Suarez because he was just that good, and his name was close to Luiz’, which made it easier for his teammates to choose a name. He was actually the only one, alongside Harry, to maybe get upgraded to a higher team. From what I heard of some girls on campus, was that he was a bit snarky. He had some quick-witted comebacks, and he didn’t care if he would hurt your feelings.

The house right next to their one, was filled with other boys from the team. This one was occupied with Josh, Ben and Harry. They had been friends since they were around sixteen, and now had the best bond you could have as college brothers. The three boys were always seen with each other, going out together and even doing groceries together. It wouldn’t surprise me if they also fucked the same girls. 

I actually didn’t know them that well, they were just known around campus. That house was classed as the party house and had a reputation of being used to shag a new girl every week. Don’t get me wrong, they were also good at their sport, but the girls they pulled mostly went for their looks rather than for their skills. 

It wasn’t a surprise that two of the boys that I knew, Louis and Harry, played as strikers, in the centre forward position. Harry was the only one that I had never actually spoken to before but knew from the parties. He was in the team because he was good, but also because he could easily show off to the ladies that way. He was popular amongst the college, mainly because he offered up his house to all the party-goers that wanted to celebrate a win that he created. No-one complained about that, seeing as he was gifted with the most attractive face on the campus. He could dribble the ball, yes, and he had the skill of a young Neymar when it came to approaching the goal. But with those eyes and smile with dimples, and his full head of curls that were covered in a backwards snap-back most of the time, I couldn’t help but check him out instead of his moves on the field. He was the captain of the team, living up to his name. He was also a leader of the group outside of football, which made all the girls like him even more.

“Ahh,” Niall exhaled, “shame I don’t know you.” 

This time, I shoved him, making him laugh. He was already a pain in my arse. “Fuck off.”

The boys were playing for around fifteen minutes now, without something happening that would probably make me do some work. The coach was getting into it, standing up every so often and giving the players some tips. He had really created a team, I felt like. You could feel the bond and fondness between them. When a player fell down, another player helped him up and patted him to ask if he was okay. When it almost went wrong and the opposing team had a shot at the goal, everyone from the team would shout positives to each other. It felt like a real team. This team wasn’t only together while playing, though. I had seen them all at parties together and they also liked to play outside of the games they already had. 

I was really into it the first fifteen minutes, but now I was growing kind of bored. Sure, watching boys play was fun, but with no work or particular action, it was kind of boring. Especially since it was a friendly match. The one form of entertainment I got, however, was Niall, who was really into the game.

“Fuck’s sake, Leon! You’re a defender! You should play in the back!” He shouted profanities to his team mates, cheering them on. 

When Niall saw that Leon didn’t comply, he nudged another player next to him and said something in his ear with a scowl on his face. It made me grin lightly in my seat, him being so serious. I liked watching them already. 

“Come on!” He yelled again, standing up in his seat, “Run Louis! Go after…” 

I was looking at Niall with a smile on my face. I also saw how his face turned into a grimace and his hands went to cover his mouth. “Oooh,” 

I looked at the field, panicked. Niall nudged me, tapping his hands on my arm. I saw that Louis had fallen to the ground, his arms holding his leg up now, groaning in pain. It was probably his ankle. I didn’t know what to do at first, shocked that something had actually happened. I looked at Niall, who was already looking at me, nudging his head towards the field. “Go!”

I jumped from my seat, wanting to run straight to the victim. I saw the referee signing for me, which made me run onto the field even more desperately. After a couple of seconds of running, I realised I had forgotten my bag. Fuck. Seriously? Groaning to myself in embarrassment, I quickly grabbed my supplies and ran a little quicker to the boy who was lying on the field in pain. 

“Hey,” I said as I approached him, a little out of breath from running so quickly. 

He didn’t look at me, just kept touching his ankle. It made me frown, it was probably really bad. He was crying out in pain, and some teammates and opponents had gathered around him to see what happened. In the meantime I had wet the sponge in the bag that the coach had brought with him, stretching Louis’ leg. He didn’t really want to, resisting to want to move it. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.” 

As I was wetting his ankle to cool it down over his shoes, I tried to look if it was bruised or if it had swollen up. None so far that I could see, so that was a good sign. I stretched his leg a bit to keep it moving, but with his socks on, I couldn’t see if there were any wounds or cuts. I tried to sit him upright, but he wasn’t having it. “Calm down,” He hissed, still holding his ankle. He sat upright now, finally looking who was taking care of him. When he saw it was me, he raised his eyebrows. 

“What’re ye doing here?”

I looked at him in shock, already not wanting to help him anymore. So much for running hurriedly over to him. I tried to not react to his degrading question, although it was hard. I continued to check out his foot, trying to place it straight down on the field. He placed his other food next to the injured one, and leaned on his knees with his elbows. The trainer gave Louis a bottle with water, which he gladly took. He took a large gulp, sitting there for a while. Was I overreacting or something? He seemed to be in a lot of pain, why was he now so calm and chilling?

I started grabbing my things, giving Louis one last look to see if he was okay. He seemed to be fine, being helped up by another team mate and testing to stand on it. 

I couldn’t believe this, he was groaning about his ankle no less than one minute ago! What an idiot. Letting me come all the way over here for nothing. As I was walking away frowned my eyebrows in confusion. If it was going to be like this the whole time, I was gone. Not gonna happen. I was here for a reason and the team mates should take that seriously. 

I looked back one last time to Louis who was now laughing with Brad, which resulted in me bumping into someone. His back was hard. He had drawn his head back so he could fill his mouth with water, causing me to also run into the back of this someone’s arms. 

“Fuck, sorry.” I exclaimed, “I shouldn’t..”

When he turned his head around and I saw who it was, I immediately shut my mouth and stared at him. I was frozen into my place for a moment, not knowing what to say. He turned around completely, a dimple showing on his face. I blushed. He was even more attractive up close.

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” He didn’t look angry or anything at all, he actually smiled, which made me feel a little bit better. I wanted to keep on walking to let me soak in my distress towards the situation that just occured, when Louis spoke up again from behind us, “So who’s the pretty girl who wears tight ass clothes to her job?” 

I heard him laugh quietly at his own remark, and he said it loud enough to let his mates in on it too. Instead of just ignoring him and walking on, I decided to turn around and shout after him, 

“Someone who can actually pull it off.”

His team mates ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at my quick remark. I sighed. Harry was still looking at me. I saw his face turn into a frown, silently apologizing to me with his gaze. I shrugged at him. My comeback towards Louis made me feel good again. He’s the idiot.

When I turned around again, and actually began walking, I smiled quietly to myself, forgetting the situation. This was going to be an interesting job.

--

The whistle blew, announcing the end of the game. For a practice match, the game went surprisingly well. There weren't any more instances or fake ankle injuries, what I was glad about. Harry had scored the one and only goal, which made the team go home with a win. Even though the game was for practice, they were pretty happy about it.

"Okay boys! Bundle up," the coach announced as everyone was walking off the field. I was still standing by the dug-out, not really knowing if I had to say goodbye or when the next game was. I saw everyone rounding around the coach, listening in, just like I did.

"Great game, happy about this one. Leon, next time: please bring your shin pads, so you could actually play and I could see what condition you're in. I have made notes and I will be announcing who's playing this Saturday, before the real game." The team looked around at each other, gauging who played good tonight and who didn't. 

Apparently they used this match as a mock try-out, so the trainer and coach could see who were in shape and who weren't for the first big game on Saturday.

"Before you all go, I would like to introduce you to our new on scene doctor, who will be helping you if there's anything actually wrong." He glared at Louis when he said that last part, making him scowl.

I took a step forward, looking around the group. I saw that everyone was intensely looking at me, so I spoke up quickly, "Hi everyone, my name's Mattie and just like Patrick said, I'll be helping you guys out during the games."

"You'll help me out outside of the game, too?"

I ignored him, saw that Niall was once again encouraging me and disregarding his team mate who shouted that from the group, nodding his head for me to continue. I smiled a bit, and went on, "I'm studying to be a doctor, and I'm currently doing the bachelors for it, so yeah.."

Patrick, the coach, nodded at me and returned to the group, "For now, keep in shape boys and help each other out. I haven't decided anything yet so miracles can happen!"

The team shuffled away quietly, talking to each other. I tapped Patrick on his shoulder, "Sorry, coach, is there some place where I can put my bag so I don't have to bring it with me every time?" 

He nodded, gazing above me to where the boys were walking, "Of course Mattie, just a moment,” He took two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, making me try to cover my ears, “Captain!" he shouted, "Harry come here!" 

I turned around and saw that Harry was saying goodbye to his teammates, as he already heard his couch, before jogging over to us. He nodded at me, looking me up and down and placed his arms in his sides as a greeting and turned to Patrick, "What's up coach?" 

Patrick cleared his throat and looked at me, "Mattie here would like to put her bag in the dressing room so she won't have to take it with her," he started grabbing his keys from his pocket, "you can show her, yes?" 

Harry nodded, taking the keys from him. "No worries coach, I'll help her." 

The coach patted Harry in his shoulder, "Thank you, bring the keys to my office tomorrow. And work on your left foot!" 

Niall was waving goodbyes at me, so I quickly waved back, “Bye!” and turned towards Harry. 

With the team and Niall gone, it was just Harry and I. It was still dark, with only the lights from the field still on. Harry jiggled the keys in front of us, and winked at me, "I'll show ya," 

It wasn't that I was nervous or anything, but I hesitated for two seconds before strolling behind him. He was so cocky, with his kit still on and smirking all the time. I couldn't help but watch him while he was playing. He had a certain glow around him, an aura that just radiated confidence. He could probably pull everything off and he certainly could wrap everyone around his finger. 

"So you enjoyed the game, doc?" 

I cringed at the nickname, but decided to let it go this time, "I enjoyed watching it yeah," 

Nodding, he faced me, "You liked my goal?" 

He said it with a smirk and as if he knew I was watching him the whole time, which was true, but he didn't need to know that. 

"Actually, I really liked how Leon could outrun everyone on the field.." 

He stopped abruptly and turned around, in the middle of the path. Once he was fully in front of me, he leaned in, “I saw you watching me, you know.”

Because he stopped suddenly and leaned in immediately, I accidently took a step too much, almost bumping into him again. “Maybe I was watching Louis.”

He laughed, showing me his dimple as he looked to the side. “I know you weren’t, that douchebag really doesn’t know how to play it.”

I nodded my head, and rolled my eyes as if he was stating the obvious. “That’s right.” 

I began walking again, not really knowing where to, but at least in the same direction we were already going. Harry followed me soon after, jumping into step with me. I already saw the building coming closer, which made me think of something. “Why aren’t you all showering in the dressing room after a game?”

He bumped his shoulder with mine, which made me notice the height difference we had. He was a lot taller than me, my eyes looking straight at his collarbones when I turned to look at him. 

I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows in question. 

“You would like to see that, huh?” He stated, smiling shyly at me.

I groaned, “Harryy..”

“Already moaning my name, I see.” 

This time it was me that bumped my shoulder with him, making him laugh in response. “I was just joking, love.” 

When we fell into step once more, he looked ahead and started explaining my question to me, “No we’re not there because it was a practise game and obviously we want to go home fast so we can go to the party later, so we just decided to shower at home.”

I nodded my head, kneading my eyebrows in confusion. There was a party tonight? I haven’t heard anything about that. I quite liked going to parties. Normally my friend Niamh made sure we could get invites so we could go together, but not tonight apparently. It was a Wednesday after all, so maybe she just wanted to stay in tonight. “A party?” I asked Harry. 

He nodded, “Yeah it’s like a frat party only, I would have gotten you an invite but I didn’t really know you before this, soo..”

I laughed, grinning to myself. Harry was really nice. At least, nothing like I had pictured him to be in my head. I didn’t like to judge people before I knew them, but with Harry that was kind of inevitable. Also, I couldn’t exactly invite myself now since he said he didn’t know me but I already knew him. I was not going to make a fool of myself, obviously. So I just shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it.”

We had reached the building where the shower rooms were. We walked quite slow, and it was already quite late so it was kind of eerie here. No lights, the doors were all left open and there were no people to be seen. 

“So these are our shower rooms,” Harry started as we walked into the building after he unlocked it, “We normally take the first one, so you can just put your stuff in there.”

The dressing room was big and spacious. Everyone had a seat, there was a whiteboard in there and the showers were in a separate room. The closet that stood against the wall next to the showers, held all the equipment. “There,” Harry said, as he took my bag and placed my stuff in, “A special place for you.”

As he placed my stuff in the closet, I could finally see how he’d looked up close. He still had his short sleeved football shirt on, revealing his tattoos on his arms. For a guy that was still in college, he sure had a lot of them. Not that I minded. 

“Thank you Harry,” I smiled at him, at which he winked in return when he faced me again. Gosh, I could almost feel myself getting red. I was acting like a schoolgirl, I needed to step up my game. “I’ll remember this place,” I said, as I looked at the showers. I could almost imagine all the naked boys right here. 

I smirked, glancing at the shower himself, “I’m sure you will.”

After making sure everything was locked and closed, we started to walk back to the parking lot.  I was sure Harry was also with his car, considering campus was at least a twenty minute walk. Right as we reached our cars and I wanted to say goodbye, he faced me again and leaned on his already open door, “You know what, Mattie?”

I looked up from the inside of my car towards him, giving him a questioning look. “What?”

“You free Saturday?”

He said it so casually that I wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t asking me out on a date was he? I mean, I was attracted to the guy but I barely knew him! And it wasn’t like I wanted to go out with him, really. But I did want to see him. With hesitation evident in my voice, I answered him, “Yeah, why?”

He saw my facial expression and laughed a bit, “To take you up on my offer. We’re having a party again at our house, so if you’d like to come?”

I almost sighed in relief, “Yeah, I’d like that, thank you Harry.” 

He shot a quick wink at me as he started to climb in his car, “No worries!” As a last afterthought, right as I wanted to shut my door, I heard him shout, “And bring your friends!”

--

My friend Niamh was present at the game this time, too. We were here a little early, so we could catch up on our week and talk about everything that had happened to us. She was a friend from years ago, almost from when we were kids, so she knew everything about me. Unfortunately, she didn’t want to be a doctor and had chosen to go pursue her dancing career. She was really good at it, too. She was asked to dance in videoclips and she often performed on stage with singers or bands. It was her job now, one she always wanted. It made me proud of her, because she actually went for it, and ignored her parent’s complaints about it. She had proved them and their comments about how she was never going to make it, wrong. 

We sat in the canteen, which was still fairly quiet. The game would start at two, and it was now one thirty. I had only been to a professional game once, and then I arrived at two on the dot and I didn’t even look if there were many people there. The only time I’d been here was when I met up with the trainer to see if this was the right place for me to take my extra credits. I could choose to work in an elderly home, or at the swimming pool, but I had decided that this would be more fun for me. I didn’t mind watching 22 boys running after a ball for two hours back to back, particularly. 

Niamh had ordered a coffee whereas I preferred cold drinks over hot drinks, so I just stuck with some soda. “So how has your week been, Matts?” She said as she took a sip of her drink. 

I smiled at her, excited to tell her she would be having something to do tonight, “Actually, I need to invite you to something.”

Her eyebrows perked up, and she placed the drink on the table, “To where?”

I grinned, “Harry Styles asked me if I wanted to come to this party at his house tonight, and said I could bring some friends.” 

“No way!” She exclaimed gasping, “Harry Styles from the team?” 

I nodded happily back at her, “That’s the one.”

She already started to grab her phone, so she could text our friends, I presumed. “When did he ask you this? I didn’t even know you talked to him!”

After I placed my drink down from taking a sip of it myself, I shrugged casually at her. “Well, I had to help at that game you know,” I said as she nodded at me, “And right after he had to show me where I could put my stuff and started talking about this party he had this Wednesday----”

“Oh yes!” She interrupted me with wide eyes, “So that’s the party Emily talked about! She said she had fucked the captain of the team, and that he was quite good. That’s Harry right?” 

I paused, opening my mouth in surprise. “What? Yeah he is the captain.” 

“That’s so sick! I have to text Emily about this party tonight then,” She said, grinning excitedly at me and putting her phone down to look at me again. “Anyway, go on, I’m listening.”

I coughed, choosing to ignore this disappointing bit of information, “Yeah so he told me about that party and that he couldn’t invite me then, which is a bit weird if I think about it now, but anyways, he invited me for tonight and said I could bring some friends.” I forced a smile on my face as I finished my story and looked at her. 

She copied my smile, “That’s great! Maybe I can finally meet Niall and get to know him better, if you know what I mean,” She said as she wiggled her eyebrows. 

I laughed, genuinely excited for her. “I hope you will!” 

After I had finished my drink, I announced to Niamh that I had to leave if I wanted to be at the dug-outs on time. She wished me well, and said that she would see me tonight. After I hugged her and said goodbye to her and the bartender who had served us, I walked out of the canteen towards the shower rooms. 

I needed to grab my bag if I wanted to be helping players today. Today they had to play against a popular college not far away from where we’re from, so it was kind of exciting to be able to see that. The coach had probably announced who would be playing and who wouldn’t for today, which made the pressure on the players to play well a tad bit higher. I knew that obviously Harry and Louis would be playing, along with our goalie Liam, but the rest of the team was still unsure. For me it would be kind of fun if Niall was still benched, just for entertainment, but he would rather be on the field, I’m sure. Hopefully his knee was doing better.

I had reached the shower rooms and discovered that the door was still open, allowing me to walk right in the building. I knew Harry said it was the first one when we dropped my bag off, so without hesitation I whipped open the door. Right as I did that, I heard commotion and deep yelling from from the inside, causing me to rapidly close the door again. Shit. How the fuck was I supposed to know they were still here, they were just warming up outside!

Bowing my head in embarrassment, I quickly walked out of the building. I would just grab my bag when they were out so I didn’t have to walk in with all of them staring at me. I waited outside, leaning against the wall and just staring ahead at the field they would be playing on. They were taking their sweet time. Probably just discussing the match quickly just before the game started, but to me it felt like ages.  

The other team was walking towards the field in a pack, and the referee started to walk towards this building, probably to let our team know the game was about to start. I actually felt nerves bubbling in my stomach, with everything being so serious in comparison to the last game. There were a lot of supporters walking towards the bleachers, too. 

I was just staring at the field again when the door opened and everyone on the team started to walk out. First it was the coach and trainer, who nodded in greeting. The coach was needed here too, apparently. I saw that Niall walked in the front with his jacket still on, so that meant he was benched again. When he walked by me, he ruffled my hair. “Hey Matts!” 

“Hey!” I shouted after him, “I’m here to help you, you know!”

He turned around and laughed loudly, pointing at his knee, “Not me!’

At that, I didn’t have anything back to say knowing he was benched again, so I just shook my head. 

“Is he messing with you?” 

I heard Harry’s voice before I saw him, making me look up towards him. He was walking at the back of the team’s row to get out of the building with a smile on his face, standing out from everyone else walking before him.  

When he reached me, he stopped and raised his eyebrows, awaiting my answer. “No it’s just Niall,” I told him, shrugging my shoulders indifferently. 

“Right,” He smirked, “Well, I figured ‘t was you that tried to come in during our important speech, so I decided to grab your bag for you.” 

My heart swelled just a little bit at his kind gesture, having not expected this at all from him. Shit, you should never listen to rumours, huh? He proved once again that he could actually be kind.

“Wow, Harry! Thank you so much. That’s so kind of you to do that!” I grabbed the bag from him and in a split second decided I wanted to hug him. I threw myself in his arms, catching him off guard for a second. My bag that I now carried in my hand whipped him in his back, causing him to groan in my shoulder. Hugging me back, he draped his arms slowly around me, positioning them right above my ass. 

When I loosened my arms around him, I nodded my head towards the field, “You should probably go,”

He nodded in confirmation, still standing in close proximity to me. “I do.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder blades, and wished him luck for the game, “Break a leg Harry, or don’t actually.”

He laughed at my comment, showing me his dimples. Before he walked away towards the field, he winked at me, “I’ll try not to.”

When I saw him run on the field and give his teammates one last cheer for good luck, I smirked to myself watching him. It was a good choice to wear my tight yoga pants again, at least. 

--

The game was very intense. Not like practise-match intense, but full on competition match intense. Louis luckily hadn’t faked any injuries yet, so that was a good sign. However, I had to run on the field in the first half for Liam, who had taken a good shot right in his eye. He fell to the ground, making me run on the field for him. When I got there, he was already sitting up and not at all groaning in pain like Louis had, making me smile a bit. At least Liam could handle something. I also discovered his injury wasn’t fake, because I could see a bruise forming immediately. I cooled it a little, but told him it would be better if he took some rest. He said that he’d be fine and would just tell me and the coach if he wanted to switch between the other goalkeeper and him. I was still a bit concerned, but he insisted. So I walked back with my supplies and some worries, hoping that it was really just a shot with the ball, and it wouldn’t turn out to be something worse. 

The score was 2-1 for our team, with just ten minutes to go when I came back from grabbing some more water. It was so tense, all the players were proper going for it. The bleachers were filled with supporters, all reacting to the match as if their life depended on it. When the opponents came near our goal, they would stand up and shout at our defenders. And when our team was striking and near the opponents goal, they would yell and scream for us to score. I was nervous too. I was on the edge of my seat, hoping that the score would stay the same. I was fiddling with the hem of my shirt to stop myself from standing up and screaming towards the players. 

We did have a good few people that came out to support us, yes. But our biggest supporter sat on the bench. He was biting his nails, screaming in frustration and cursing loudly whenever we missed a goal. 

“Fuck! Who in their goddamn mind would even pass like that!”, or “Holy shit! That was fucking close!” and my favourite: “Son of a… get that fucking ball in the goal you arseholes!”

Least to say, I was entertained for the match.  

Currently we had the ball on our side, passing each other the ball and walking forwards towards the goal. Once we had crossed the midfielders of the opponents, Zayn passed the ball towards Brad who then passed it on to Ben. Ben had a good shot, and could easily get the ball miles away. So when Louis sprinted towards the goal, Ben saw an opportunity to pass the ball onto him. He put the ball in front of him and shot the ball, right into Louis’ feet. I could see that Louis was looking for someone to help him out, because there were two defenders near the goal and he couldn’t pass them himself. Luckily Harry had seen it, and sprinted with him on the other side. He made sure he ran close to the goal but not to close, so he had the space to shoot the ball right in if he got it. He shouted for Louis to pass the ball onto him, and Louis immediately did. The ball was flying over the defenders, in a straight line towards Harry. Harry prepared for it, taking his foot back so he could place it right on it. He jumped, the ball almost near him, and kicked the ball--- 

Right before he could kick it, a defender sprung onto him making Harry fall right to the ground. “Nooooo!” Niall yelled loudly from beside me, “For fuck’s sake no!”

I heard everyone gasp from the audience, immediately voicing their worries from behind me. I panicked for a second, freezing in my spot. Shit! Harry just fell to the ground. He was laying there, in pain. I heard the coach shout my name, making me snap back to reality. Immediately I grabbed my bag, and ran towards him in a hurry. Shiiit. Why Harry? Others had gathered around him, so I couldn’t see how Harry was doing. Right as I arrived near him, I shouted for them to walk away. 

“Everyone! Leave!” 

My voice must have sounded really angry or intimidating, because everyone hurried away quickly. This way, I could finally see Harry. He was laying on the ground, on his back. He had his hands on his forehead, making me think there was something wrong with his head. Hopefully he didn’t have a concussion or something. The defender that had pushed him to the ground, was still looking at Harry. He was probably worried about what he’d done, but I didn’t care. 

“What are you doing? Leave!” 

He started saying that he was sorry, and that he could help, but I wasn’t having it. “I don’t care, leave before I force you.” 

He nodded, worry evident on his face. For a second I felt bad, but then I saw that Harry was still laying here, and then those thoughts escaped my mind right away. The defender walked away eventually, leaving me alone with Harry. I looked at him, seeing how he had one hand over his head, feeling for bruising. The moment I sat down next to him, he turned his head towards me. He opened his eyes, and smiled.

“Am I dreaming?” 

Relief washed over me immediately. At least he could still make jokes. I began sitting next to his head, wetting my sponge once again and placing it over his head. “You okay, Harry?” 

He nodded, his head in front of my knees on the ground. I looked at him from above, so that I could see how his body reacted when I would do certain things to see if he was okay. Right now I had my hands on his forehead with the sponge in between, “I’m fine actually, Mattie. I just wanted you to come save me.”

I rolled my eyes, not believing him. “No you didn’t.” 

He laughed, causing his chest to go up and down, “I did,” He smirked, his eyes shining as he looked at me. 

I shook my head in disbelief, staring at him smiling at me for a second. But then I remembered I could take revenge. He saw that I was wetting the sponge again, and began to sit up straight. “No you won’t!’

I began splashing him with water in revenge, making him soaking wet. I was laughing my ass off, seeing him so flustered and shocked at what I was doing. “Mattie! Shit, stop!”

I was aware that the rest of the team and the coach were still watching us, so I stopped splashing him, throwing the sponge in the water bag. I took a step towards his soaked body, pressing my lips together and looking him in the eye mischievously. “Next time you’ll play a joke on me like that, I’ll take you to the hospital so you’ll have to sit next to Niall for a month.”

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “Noted, doc, noted.” 

As I walked away smiling and the referee began gathering everyone together again, I heard him shout one more thing after me, “I’ll pay you back tonight Mattie! Watch out!”

I just shot my middle finger in the air, hearing him bark out another laugh in response. 

--

The party was in full swing when Niamh, Emily, Joey and I arrived. It was in Harry’s and his roommates’ house, one that I had never been in before, let alone seen how packed it could be. Everyone that was just a little bit known around campus, was there. I recognized some people from my class, and others I knew because they were popular around campus. 

When we arrived, the door was unlocked and you could just walk right in. That wasn’t unusual with the parties I went to, if we ever went to house parties. There was a pile of jackets formed, so we just threw ours over it. Joey and Emily claimed they knew some people and went off to speak to them, leaving me and Niamh alone at the party. 

“Let’s have a drink,” Niamh said to me over the loud music, “We need to get drunk to process this!”

I nodded in agreement, already taking her arm towards the kitchen. It was already quite busy, but we had come a little late. We didn’t want to be the first ones to arrive, as we didn’t know a lot of people here. All the drinks were placed on a table, leaving us with a lot of choice of what we wanted to drink tonight. I hadn’t realised before this that these college boys actually spend a lot of time planning these things. They had a lot to think about. And to be fair, they had done a good job at it.

We had appropriately dressed ourselves, luckily. Since we didn’t really know what to expect, we just went for black: Niamh wearing a tight dress with spaghetti straps and me wearing a skirt with a t-shirt. It was something you could never go wrong with.

I poured myself some alcohol, waiting for Niamh to do the same. Once we both had our drinks, we leaned against the table and started looking at people. This was our favourite activity to do. You saw some crazy people at parties, so we had a lot to think about. 

“Oh wow, there’s already people on the edge of drunkenness.” Niamh laughed, raising her eyebrows at a boy who had run straight towards the loo. “Jesus wept.”

“Shit,” I exclaimed, looking at a girl who had just came in with a gift in her hand, “It’s someone’s birthday? Did we need to bring a gift?”

She just shrugged her shoulders at me. “No fucking clue.” And resumed to look around the room. We had been sipping on our drinks lightly, just enjoying the music that was blasting loudly and how everyone was dancing and talking with each other.

“Look at that girl, she's going for it!” Niamh pointed out at me, looking at a girl that was standing in the middle of the room, dancing her ass off. I followed her gaze, seeing how the girl was dancing to the music, not caring about anyone it seemed like. I wish I could be like her. “She’s really good!”

Right as I wanted to respond to Niamh, I saw that Louis had walked in the door she was close to. I rolled my eyes and turned around, looking at the sink. 

“What’re you doing?” Niamh asked me incredulously, looking at me over her shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” I answered her, “He just annoys me.”

She came to stand beside me, searching for my eyes. “How? Last time we talked about him you said he was hot!”

I shrugged my shoulders again, “He’s just annoying.”

“Right.” She answered, turning around again and taking a sip of her drink. “If you want to fuck him just tell me. I could be your wing woman.”

I bumped my hips with hers, and turned around to look at the crowd again, “Never.” 

She laughed, standing up straight and finishing up her drink. “Okay then, just tell me why another time. I just saw Harry come in and you need to talk with him.” 

Immediately I felt my stomach go wild. Shit. My eyes began to search around the room, looking for his head of curls amongst the crowd. I found him talking with a friend of his from his team, who’s name I couldn’t remember. Harry looked extremely attractive tonight. Instead of the usual kit I saw him in, he wore all black. His black vans stood out with the other clothing he wore, black skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Even with such a simple look, he made it seem like he wore a million dollars. As he was talking, his jawline moved with his mouth and it made me just weak in the knees. He was actually so hot, how hadn’t I fully appreciated this man before? 

It seemed like he was asking if his friend wanted a drink, because he leaned into him with his ear, nodded and started walking away towards the kitchen. Oh no, why had I been sitting in the kitchen, so obviously out in the open? He strode confidently towards the drinks, when in mid-walk he saw me sitting there. Niamh also recognised him and saw he was walking over here, so she made up an excuse to leave. “Just need the loo for a moment,” 

I couldn’t answer her, because Harry interrupted my thoughts. He was also smirking at me as he arrived right in front of me, only leaving a few inches in between us. I crossed my arms, looking up at him challengingly. 

“Hey doc,” he greeted, speaking in a raspy voice. He began to smile mischievously, making me wonder what he was going to say, “Or should I say, hero?”

I groaned out loud, hitting him in the chest with one hand, and shaking my head. It made him laugh, making his chest vibrate. I could almost feel the vibrations with how close we were. “Shut up,”

He was still chuckling a bit as if he were still thinking about it. Suddenly he stopped, and looked me right in the eyes. “Really though, that was really hot with how you fought everyone out of your way for me.”

I felt my face go warm and I tried to not to smile too much. “Thank you,” I said, straightening up a bit and raising my chin up at him, “But like hell that I fought everyone away.” 

He gasped, nudging me with his arms “Heyy, you did!” he said with a fake offense, frowning his eyebrows, “You were basically performing CPR on me with the way you acted!”

I laughed, making me lean into him a little bit and hide in his shoulder. When I brought myself back in front of him, I raised my eyebrows at him, “You would like me to give you a mouth to mouth performance, wouldn’t you?” 

My heart skipped a bit when he got all serious and looked me straight in the eye. “I would,” 

Our eye contact was intense, I could feel it in my stomach. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my face. I was almost certain that he could feel my heartbeat against his chest. We weren’t even touching completely, but it was beating so hard that I wouldn’t doubt it. I looked at his green eyes, to his plump and pink lips. They were a nice shape, and I felt the urge to just kiss them. I didn’t though, maybe he did this with every other girl he tried to get in his bed. 

I was proven right when he took my hand, “Come with me,” 

I tried to act confused, furrowing my eyebrows, “Where to?” 

He didn’t respond, just tugged on my hand and began leading the way. People weren’t even looking at us, they were dancing or drinking and talking. And even though I liked doing those things at parties, this thing that I thought Harry was planning to do with me, seemed much more fun. 

He made his way towards the door to go upstairs, avoiding bumping in with people or getting splashed by someone’s drink. Once we were on the way up he let go of my hand so we could walk better. There were only one or two people upstairs, making out with each other or searching for someone. Two doors were open out of the four, and Harry went into a closed one with me. 

He revealed his bedroom to me, which was completely dark apart from the moon that lit up the room a little bit. His room was mostly a dark blue, with a grey colour covering the one wall that wasn’t blue. His bed stood in the middle of the room with two bedside tables next to it. He had a desk and his sports bag that he had used still stood in his room, untouched. He didn’t have a desk, but a dresser was shoved against the wall. Once I did my onceover, I saw Harry standing in front of his bed, looking at me. 

He smiled, and began to walk over to me again, making me back into the door once he reached me completely. He stood closer than he did when we were in the kitchen, his pelvis against mine and his chest leaning against my body. “Hey,” He said again, even raspier this time. 

I looked up at him, examining his face, “Hey.”

He cleared his throat, and hesitated a bit, “Can I kiss you?”

I hesitated, “One thing.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Tell me you don’t fuck girls every week, otherwise I won’t be able to handle this.”

He took a step back, frowning, “Who told you that?”

Looking up at him, I felt myself growing more nervous, “Just hear that about you.”

He looked up at the ceiling, then back at me. “I promise you Mattie. I didn’t bring you here or invite you just to fuck you. I’d happily talk with you all night. You seem fun.”

I smiled, “And,” he continued, “my roommates are the ones who get laid every party. I do have sex yeah, but I promise you, I haven’t had sex since the first week of this semester.”

With the sincerity in his eyes, I believed him, “Okay, you can kiss me now.”

“Only if you want to.”

I looked into his eyes, “I really do.”

With one nod and another reassuring glance he was in the clear and we were done with being slow. He smacked his lips against mine, moving his arms from against the door to my body. Roaming his hand around my hips to my ass as he hungrily kissed me. I kissed him back, recuperating his movements. He squeezed my ass, making me gasp a little bit, giving him access to use his tongue in the kiss as well. I moved my arms from his shoulders to his neck, pushing him closer to me with my fingertips in his hair. Our tongues were wet and desperate, making the kiss hot and heavy. Once he had enough of just making out, he grabbed me by my thighs and lifted me up, turning me around towards the bed. 

I fell backwards onto his soft mattress, with Harry on top of me. My legs were around him in an instant, crossing my feet on his back. I still had my sneakers on and all my clothes, but not for long. Harry’s hand went from my ass to the hem of my shirt. I lifted my back for him, pausing in the kiss, to let him take my top off in one swift movement, leaving me in my bra. I didn’t wear my sexiest bra, but he didn’t seem to mind. His mouth went from the sweet spots on my neck towards my cleavage, leaving wet kisses on my body. He was already working on getting my bra off, pushing the straps off my shoulders. I sat upright for him, making him readjust his position to get closer to me. He was struggling with the clasp, so I unclasped my bra for him and threw it on the ground. He didn’t waste any time cupping my breasts, feeling them and leaning in my neck to leave some more spots, but I wasn’t having it. I pushed him away on his chest, making him stand on the ground again. He looked at me in confusion for a moment, until I stood up and pushed him on the bed. I bent my knees so I could reach his t-shirt, and he got the idea. Moving his arms up to let me take his shirt off, he gladly let me do it. 

His chest was revealed to me, just like mine was to him. This wasn’t enough, though. I crouched on my knees completely so I was level with his belly button, and began to unbutton his jeans. His bulge was evident in the tight material, so when I moved the zipper down I cupped him over his jeans and pants, making him groan in response. 

“Fuck, Mattie.” 

I just smiled at him, moving to tug at his jeans. He got the hint and thrust his hips up, so I could take his jeans off. Once they were off, he was just left in his boxers. I moved a little closer to him, so I was level with his bulge, making me look up at him with wide eyes. “Impressive,” I smirked. 

He wasn’t having it, and took his boxers off immediately, revealing his dick to me that sprung to his stomach. He must be proper into it, because I had never had a man be this turned on from just kissing. He threw his boxers onto the pile we had already made, and leaned on his arms so he could look at me properly. I took him in my hands, gliding my thumb over his tip. I looked at him for his consent, and he nodded at me eagerly. That was all I needed before I licked him on the tip. He responded loudly, groaning and moaning through the room. I never knew he was so loud in the bedroom. 

I licked him from his balls to the tip, and let him slip in my mouth to take all of him. He moved his hand in my hair, not pushing me, but finally having something he could do with his hands. 

I started bobbing my head up and down, all the while looking at him how he responded to me. His eyes were closed and his pink lips were voluminous and opened just slightly. 

I enjoyed giving blowjobs, especially if it was someone as responsive as Harry. He was groaning and moaning for me, letting me know how much he enjoyed it. “A-ah,” He cried once I hit him in the back of my throat. “Fuck,”

Kissing his tip, feeling his balls and sliding my tongue over his dick was making me wet as well. He still had one hand in my hair, the other going from my arms that were drawn over his upper thighs. My naked boobs rested on his naked legs, and my still clothed butt was stuck in the air. 

He slid his hand over my arm and went to my back, leaning over my head that was still bobbing over his cock. Once he could reach the hem of my skirt, he started moving the zipper. At least, trying to. 

I stopped sucking him off and let my mouth pop when his dick was out of my mouth, making him moan in annoyance. I quickly took my skirt and panties off and went back on my knees in front of him, when he was the one that stopped me this time. He grabbed my arms and basically threw me on the bed, covering my body immediately. Fuck, he was good. 

He started kissing me again, while I searched for his dick and began giving him a handjob. He cupped my breasts and squeezed them. I started leading his dick towards my entrance, giving him a hint of what I wanted. He backed away to look at me with wide eyes, paused for a bit and went to his dresser to get a condom. I watched him as he slid it on, and grabbed his shoulders as he started to position himself in front of me. Before he did, he looked at me once more. I nodded in approval, and he slid himself in me slowly. I could feel him filling me up immediately, making me throw my head back in bliss. “Fuck, Harry..”

“You like my dick, don’t you?” He said as he began thrusting into me. 

I could only nod in response, gasping as he looked at me, “Tell me,” he said as he thrusted into me hard once, “Tell me how you feel.”

His trust were getting harder with each second I wasn’t responding, because I could only moan in pleasure, “Fuck Harry,” I moaned, “I feel so good..”

He reacted with his hips. Thrusting into me rapidly, making my breasts go up and down and the bed creak against the wall. “I know, baby, I know.” 

“Holy shit, I do.” 

He started to kiss my neck, hungrily going for it as my legs crossed at his back once again. I was certain that the guests that were still here could hear us, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to everyone to know that he was fucking me, and not some other girl. 

“You’re so good baby, I knew it,” 

I started to roam his back with my arms, feeling his muscles move each time he thrusted. His dick was so long and hard that he hit the right spots inside of me each time. I could feel my head getting a little lighter, and my stomach filled with warmth. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, please,”

“Begging for it, see?” He cockily stated once he moved to look at me again, he even had a smirk on his face when he was fucking me. “Knew you would do me good,”

“Mhh, Harry, almost there,” 

“Me too, baby, me too.” 

He thrusted a couple more times before I could really feel it, my pleasure taking over me completely. I came hard, my legs trembling around him and my head thrown back. My orgasm made me cry out loud, and he was still going at it. 

He was coming too, I knew it. His thrust became harder before they slowed down, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. He groaned loudly when he came, looking beautiful while he did. His cheeks had gone slightly pink, making his lips stand out even more, and his hair was all dishevelled and damp with sweat. Once I felt that he filled the condom inside of me, he opened up his eyes and slid out of me. 

We both smiled at each other and started catching our breaths from out intensive activities, “Fuck, Mattie.” He laughed, pulling out of me completely and leaned on his arms to stand up. Once he cleaned up the condom, throwing it in the bin, he started walking back to the bed. He plopped on it, almost on top of me. “That was good.” 

I nodded in response, “Almost as good as Louis’ goals.” I smirked, hoping to get a reaction out of him with bullshit. 

He laughed, letting his head fall on the pillow, “Shut up.”

There we lay, both naked over the covers with our chest moving as we breathed, still hearing the thumping music from downstairs where the party was still going in full swing. 

“I told you,” He started, looking at me playfully, “I would get you wet later.” 

I groaned, but couldn’t help to let a laugh escape. I grabbed my pillow from underneath my head, saw how he was smiling to himself, and smacked him in the head with it. 

Payback, my arse.

I felt it from the moment I had walked on the field with the others. 

Someone was staring at me. Or everyone was. I didn’t look behind me to see if it was true, but I could feel their eyes staring straight at my ass. They asked me to wear athletic clothing for this, so I just chose the first thing in my dresser that I saw, picking out some black yoga pants. The material clung to my butt and I regretted I had put them on the moment I had arrived here. My oversized sweater I chose to wear over it luckily covered my upper half, a decision I did appreciate I made now.

Walking onto the sports centre was nerve-wracking in itself. I liked sports, I liked watching it, but having the possibility of someone else watching you do something was disturbing. I couldn’t find the way I was supposed to go. I didn’t bring my hair tie so I was forced to keep my hair floating around my face and this place was huge. There were several buildings and a squala of fields for specific sports. Indoors, outdoors, you name it. The college was probably sponsored by some wealthy upper class fathers who wanted their sons to be on the radar for new opportunities.

Luckily, I was led right to the canteen which was easily locatable since it had a terrace. A terrace! Lord, I feel like I should’ve worn other clothing for this. 

I approached a team player who had blond hair, feeling the nerves floating around in my stomach, “Uhh… Hi.” 

The boy who was filling up his water bottle turned around, raising his eyebrows, “Hi there.” 

Shit, he was nice. I inhaled, “I was looking for uhh, the football team…” He gave me the same look, “I was asked to help.., or I need to help with their inju-”

“Ahh!” He exclaimed, disregarding his bottle and he turned to fully face me, “You’re the one!”

I shrugged my shoulders, “I guess I am?”

“My name’s Niall.” He held out his hand, “I’m the star player of the time you’ve been assigned to!” 

I shook his hand, smiling a little. “Hi,” We still held hands, “Do you know where I’m supposed to go?” 

Still holding my hand, he began shaking it up and down. “I’m glad we finally have someone.”

“You are?”

“Yeh, we desperately need new people to liven things up a little.” 

I pried my hands from his grip, which wasn’t that strong. But I was already sweating, I didn’t need more reasons to be nervous. “Alright, that sounds good.” 

The pregnant pause that followed made him inhale and pack his bottle in his bag, “You are probably wanted by the football field, which is right there.” 

He pointed out somewhere behind me, making me turn my head. I already saw some players dribbling with the ball, so that was easily recognisable. “Go to the coach, he’s the tallest and biggest one. Has a loud voice too, probably won’t miss him.” He grinned, making me smile up at him. 

“I’ll meet you there in a second, we’re starting in like two minutes.” 

I nodded, “Alright, thanks…”

“Niall.” He answered for me, giving me a wink. “But you can call me anytime.” 

I rolled my eyes at his remark, but by the look on his face and the laugh that followed his statement, I knew it was to lighten my mood and assure me. 

I walked towards the field with a small smile on my face and with a lot less nerves. The players were now assembling and putting their heads together so I walked towards the dug-out and waited for them. There weren’t a lot of spectators or bystanders standing around the field, since it was a friendly game. I inhaled again. This should be fine. I recognized some of the players. They were all from the same college after all. Why did I sign up for this? I’m such an idiot.

When the team was done with sharing strategy and doing their, what appeared to be a yell, the trainer walked towards me. I was nervous when he approached me, he towered over everyone. 

“Hi Mattie,” he said, “You ready?”

I stood there, with my own little bag of supplies in my hand. I nodded. Luckily he spoke to me when I got drafted for this, so I already knew him. What if it was someone else who ended up being the coach? Since our conversation was very brief, you’re a nurse, I’m in need of a carer for the team, the deal was easily made. I didn’t know exactly what to take with me for this, but it was a college football team anyways, so nothing was really high-class. I had put some aspirin, plasters, scissors, antiseptic wipes, bandages and tweezers in my supply bag. That should be enough for a college team right? Surely they wouldn’t crash and fall every single game. He saw me fiddling with the bag, and smiled at me, “Good luck.” 

I nodded at him in gratitude and looked around the field. Gosh, couldn’t I talk? I was punching myself in my head. The trainer, whose name I seemed to have forgotten the second after the interview, sat down on his seat. 

Right now, all the players on the field were starting to go to their positions, other members of staff, the referee, seconds officials and the trainers and staff of the opposing team, all seemed ready to go. It wasn't hot or cold, but the slight breeze that blew over the field chilled me just slightly, making the tip of my nose go red. My job was already halfway done, which is just waiting for something to happen and providing the supplies they needed. If something did happen, I was the chosen person to help the players and fix their injuries. I didn't expect that these games would be very intense anyways. The players often knew each other since the teams were always against other colleges. Today it was just a practise match to start off the season, so I should be fine. 

The minute everyone started and the whistle blew, I wondered where Niall even was. Wasn’t he one of the players? As everyone was running and shouting on the field, I felt like he fit right in. I let my eyes wander. I didn’t know that much about football. I rarely watched the Champions League, I could just about name all the rules. The players, however, were something that did interested me. Especially the ones I already knew.

As I was sitting there, everyone seemed to be in the right place and doing exactly what everyone expected of them. The coach shouted an obnoxious loud praise towards his team, making me jump in my seat. The referee whistled at what suggestiably were the right times. No-one seemed to be getting angry at him. They were getting into it already. It'll probably go fine tonight, and my nerves I had bubbling in my stomach would probably be for nothing. At least, I was hoping for that. I watched the players going for the ball intensely, running after it and passing each other the ball. 

Right as the spirits of the team heightened and they almost scored, Niall crept up from behind me. “You didn’t even give me your name.” 

I shrieked, startling even the trainer who was deep into the game, “Jesus, Niall. Don’t scare me like that.” 

He sat down next to me, “Sorry, babe.” 

“My name’s Mattie.” I said, looking at him briefly. He nodded his head, “Like that.” 

I smiled, turning my head towards the field. “Aren’t you playing?”

He pointed towards his knee, that was covered by his track pants, “This annoying thing won’t let me.” 

“Ahh, that’s too bad.” I grimaced. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugged, “get to sit next to you.” 

I rolled my eyes again. “You’re not getting any.” 

He burst out laughing, “What! How could you resist me?” 

I playfully smiled at him. I was glad he was here to ease my nerves, “Dunno,” I glanced at the field, “quite like the others.” 

“You already know them?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded, “same college.”

Liam was the goalie. He was broad, quick and could move fast so he was the one that suited that job the most. He was also rough, and shouted really loudly which was a benefit when he would have to coach the team from the goal. He scared opponents off easily, grabbing the ball before they could shoot to keep the score at zero. Liam shared a house with Zayn, Louis and Brad, who were also playing tonight. Zayn was a little bit more of an introvert, and I didn’t really speak to him much. He did show he was a good midfielder though. He was quick and could pass the ball to his teammates effortlessly. When he did score though, he wouldn’t hesitate to cheer loudly and scare everyone with his intensity. 

Brad was a little bit older than the rest, but he was great nonetheless. He was very broad in the shoulders and had legs every gym boy would be jealous of. He was the ex-boyfriend of my sister’s, who also attended this college a few years ago. But to me, he still felt more like an older brother than someone who had been in my sister’s life for years. 

Louis was very serious. He was known for only having one thing on his mind, and that was to score goals. He was quick, could dribble fast and made the stronger players against him look back at him in surprise. Others called him Suarez because he was just that good, and his name was close to Luiz’, which made it easier for his teammates to choose a name. He was actually the only one, alongside Harry, to maybe get upgraded to a higher team. From what I heard of some girls on campus, was that he was a bit snarky. He had some quick-witted comebacks, and he didn’t care if he would hurt your feelings.

The house right next to their one, was filled with other boys from the team. This one was occupied with Josh, Ben and Harry. They had been friends since they were around sixteen, and now had the best bond you could have as college brothers. The three boys were always seen with each other, going out together and even doing groceries together. It wouldn’t surprise me if they also fucked the same girls. 

I actually didn’t know them that well, they were just known around campus. That house was classed as the party house and had a reputation of being used to shag a new girl every week. Don’t get me wrong, they were also good at their sport, but the girls they pulled mostly went for their looks rather than for their skills. 

It wasn’t a surprise that two of the boys that I knew, Louis and Harry, played as strikers, in the centre forward position. Harry was the only one that I had never actually spoken to before but knew from the parties. He was in the team because he was good, but also because he could easily show off to the ladies that way. He was popular amongst the college, mainly because he offered up his house to all the party-goers that wanted to celebrate a win that he created. No-one complained about that, seeing as he was gifted with the most attractive face on the campus. He could dribble the ball, yes, and he had the skill of a young Neymar when it came to approaching the goal. But with those eyes and smile with dimples, and his full head of curls that were covered in a backwards snap-back most of the time, I couldn’t help but check him out instead of his moves on the field. He was the captain of the team, living up to his name. He was also a leader of the group outside of football, which made all the girls like him even more.

“Ahh,” Niall exhaled, “shame I don’t know you.” 

This time, I shoved him, making him laugh. He was already a pain in my arse. “Fuck off.”

The boys were playing for around fifteen minutes now, without something happening that would probably make me do some work. The coach was getting into it, standing up every so often and giving the players some tips. He had really created a team, I felt like. You could feel the bond and fondness between them. When a player fell down, another player helped him up and patted him to ask if he was okay. When it almost went wrong and the opposing team had a shot at the goal, everyone from the team would shout positives to each other. It felt like a real team. This team wasn’t only together while playing, though. I had seen them all at parties together and they also liked to play outside of the games they already had. 

I was really into it the first fifteen minutes, but now I was growing kind of bored. Sure, watching boys play was fun, but with no work or particular action, it was kind of boring. Especially since it was a friendly match. The one form of entertainment I got, however, was Niall, who was really into the game.

“Fuck’s sake, Leon! You’re a defender! You should play in the back!” He shouted profanities to his team mates, cheering them on. 

When Niall saw that Leon didn’t comply, he nudged another player next to him and said something in his ear with a scowl on his face. It made me grin lightly in my seat, him being so serious. I liked watching them already. 

“Come on!” He yelled again, standing up in his seat, “Run Louis! Go after…” 

I was looking at Niall with a smile on my face. I also saw how his face turned into a grimace and his hands went to cover his mouth. “Oooh,” 

I looked at the field, panicked. Niall nudged me, tapping his hands on my arm. I saw that Louis had fallen to the ground, his arms holding his leg up now, groaning in pain. It was probably his ankle. I didn’t know what to do at first, shocked that something had actually happened. I looked at Niall, who was already looking at me, nudging his head towards the field. “Go!”

I jumped from my seat, wanting to run straight to the victim. I saw the referee signing for me, which made me run onto the field even more desperately. After a couple of seconds of running, I realised I had forgotten my bag. Fuck. Seriously? Groaning to myself in embarrassment, I quickly grabbed my supplies and ran a little quicker to the boy who was lying on the field in pain. 

“Hey,” I said as I approached him, a little out of breath from running so quickly. 

He didn’t look at me, just kept touching his ankle. It made me frown, it was probably really bad. He was crying out in pain, and some teammates and opponents had gathered around him to see what happened. In the meantime I had wet the sponge in the bag that the coach had brought with him, stretching Louis’ leg. He didn’t really want to, resisting to want to move it. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.” 

As I was wetting his ankle to cool it down over his shoes, I tried to look if it was bruised or if it had swollen up. None so far that I could see, so that was a good sign. I stretched his leg a bit to keep it moving, but with his socks on, I couldn’t see if there were any wounds or cuts. I tried to sit him upright, but he wasn’t having it. “Calm down,” He hissed, still holding his ankle. He sat upright now, finally looking who was taking care of him. When he saw it was me, he raised his eyebrows. 

“What’re ye doing here?”

I looked at him in shock, already not wanting to help him anymore. So much for running hurriedly over to him. I tried to not react to his degrading question, although it was hard. I continued to check out his foot, trying to place it straight down on the field. He placed his other food next to the injured one, and leaned on his knees with his elbows. The trainer gave Louis a bottle with water, which he gladly took. He took a large gulp, sitting there for a while. Was I overreacting or something? He seemed to be in a lot of pain, why was he now so calm and chilling?

I started grabbing my things, giving Louis one last look to see if he was okay. He seemed to be fine, being helped up by another team mate and testing to stand on it. 

I couldn’t believe this, he was groaning about his ankle no less than one minute ago! What an idiot. Letting me come all the way over here for nothing. As I was walking away frowned my eyebrows in confusion. If it was going to be like this the whole time, I was gone. Not gonna happen. I was here for a reason and the team mates should take that seriously. 

I looked back one last time to Louis who was now laughing with Brad, which resulted in me bumping into someone. His back was hard. He had drawn his head back so he could fill his mouth with water, causing me to also run into the back of this someone’s arms. 

“Fuck, sorry.” I exclaimed, “I shouldn’t..”

When he turned his head around and I saw who it was, I immediately shut my mouth and stared at him. I was frozen into my place for a moment, not knowing what to say. He turned around completely, a dimple showing on his face. I blushed. He was even more attractive up close.

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” He didn’t look angry or anything at all, he actually smiled, which made me feel a little bit better. I wanted to keep on walking to let me soak in my distress towards the situation that just occured, when Louis spoke up again from behind us, “So who’s the pretty girl who wears tight ass clothes to her job?” 

I heard him laugh quietly at his own remark, and he said it loud enough to let his mates in on it too. Instead of just ignoring him and walking on, I decided to turn around and shout after him, 

“Someone who can actually pull it off.”

His team mates ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at my quick remark. I sighed. Harry was still looking at me. I saw his face turn into a frown, silently apologizing to me with his gaze. I shrugged at him. My comeback towards Louis made me feel good again. He’s the idiot.

When I turned around again, and actually began walking, I smiled quietly to myself, forgetting the situation. This was going to be an interesting job.

--

The whistle blew, announcing the end of the game. For a practice match, the game went surprisingly well. There weren't any more instances or fake ankle injuries, what I was glad about. Harry had scored the one and only goal, which made the team go home with a win. Even though the game was for practice, they were pretty happy about it.

"Okay boys! Bundle up," the coach announced as everyone was walking off the field. I was still standing by the dug-out, not really knowing if I had to say goodbye or when the next game was. I saw everyone rounding around the coach, listening in, just like I did.

"Great game, happy about this one. Leon, next time: please bring your shin pads, so you could actually play and I could see what condition you're in. I have made notes and I will be announcing who's playing this Saturday, before the real game." The team looked around at each other, gauging who played good tonight and who didn't. 

Apparently they used this match as a mock try-out, so the trainer and coach could see who were in shape and who weren't for the first big game on Saturday.

"Before you all go, I would like to introduce you to our new on scene doctor, who will be helping you if there's anything actually wrong." He glared at Louis when he said that last part, making him scowl.

I took a step forward, looking around the group. I saw that everyone was intensely looking at me, so I spoke up quickly, "Hi everyone, my name's Mattie and just like Patrick said, I'll be helping you guys out during the games."

"You'll help me out outside of the game, too?"

I ignored him, saw that Niall was once again encouraging me and disregarding his team mate who shouted that from the group, nodding his head for me to continue. I smiled a bit, and went on, "I'm studying to be a doctor, and I'm currently doing the bachelors for it, so yeah.."

Patrick, the coach, nodded at me and returned to the group, "For now, keep in shape boys and help each other out. I haven't decided anything yet so miracles can happen!"

The team shuffled away quietly, talking to each other. I tapped Patrick on his shoulder, "Sorry, coach, is there some place where I can put my bag so I don't have to bring it with me every time?" 

He nodded, gazing above me to where the boys were walking, "Of course Mattie, just a moment,” He took two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, making me try to cover my ears, “Captain!" he shouted, "Harry come here!" 

I turned around and saw that Harry was saying goodbye to his teammates, as he already heard his couch, before jogging over to us. He nodded at me, looking me up and down and placed his arms in his sides as a greeting and turned to Patrick, "What's up coach?" 

Patrick cleared his throat and looked at me, "Mattie here would like to put her bag in the dressing room so she won't have to take it with her," he started grabbing his keys from his pocket, "you can show her, yes?" 

Harry nodded, taking the keys from him. "No worries coach, I'll help her." 

The coach patted Harry in his shoulder, "Thank you, bring the keys to my office tomorrow. And work on your left foot!" 

Niall was waving goodbyes at me, so I quickly waved back, “Bye!” and turned towards Harry. 

With the team and Niall gone, it was just Harry and I. It was still dark, with only the lights from the field still on. Harry jiggled the keys in front of us, and winked at me, "I'll show ya," 

It wasn't that I was nervous or anything, but I hesitated for two seconds before strolling behind him. He was so cocky, with his kit still on and smirking all the time. I couldn't help but watch him while he was playing. He had a certain glow around him, an aura that just radiated confidence. He could probably pull everything off and he certainly could wrap everyone around his finger. 

"So you enjoyed the game, doc?" 

I cringed at the nickname, but decided to let it go this time, "I enjoyed watching it yeah," 

Nodding, he faced me, "You liked my goal?" 

He said it with a smirk and as if he knew I was watching him the whole time, which was true, but he didn't need to know that. 

"Actually, I really liked how Leon could outrun everyone on the field.." 

He stopped abruptly and turned around, in the middle of the path. Once he was fully in front of me, he leaned in, “I saw you watching me, you know.”

Because he stopped suddenly and leaned in immediately, I accidently took a step too much, almost bumping into him again. “Maybe I was watching Louis.”

He laughed, showing me his dimple as he looked to the side. “I know you weren’t, that douchebag really doesn’t know how to play it.”

I nodded my head, and rolled my eyes as if he was stating the obvious. “That’s right.” 

I began walking again, not really knowing where to, but at least in the same direction we were already going. Harry followed me soon after, jumping into step with me. I already saw the building coming closer, which made me think of something. “Why aren’t you all showering in the dressing room after a game?”

He bumped his shoulder with mine, which made me notice the height difference we had. He was a lot taller than me, my eyes looking straight at his collarbones when I turned to look at him. 

I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows in question. 

“You would like to see that, huh?” He stated, smiling shyly at me.

I groaned, “Harryy..”

“Already moaning my name, I see.” 

This time it was me that bumped my shoulder with him, making him laugh in response. “I was just joking, love.” 

When we fell into step once more, he looked ahead and started explaining my question to me, “No we’re not there because it was a practise game and obviously we want to go home fast so we can go to the party later, so we just decided to shower at home.”

I nodded my head, kneading my eyebrows in confusion. There was a party tonight? I haven’t heard anything about that. I quite liked going to parties. Normally my friend Niamh made sure we could get invites so we could go together, but not tonight apparently. It was a Wednesday after all, so maybe she just wanted to stay in tonight. “A party?” I asked Harry. 

He nodded, “Yeah it’s like a frat party only, I would have gotten you an invite but I didn’t really know you before this, soo..”

I laughed, grinning to myself. Harry was really nice. At least, nothing like I had pictured him to be in my head. I didn’t like to judge people before I knew them, but with Harry that was kind of inevitable. Also, I couldn’t exactly invite myself now since he said he didn’t know me but I already knew him. I was not going to make a fool of myself, obviously. So I just shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it.”

We had reached the building where the shower rooms were. We walked quite slow, and it was already quite late so it was kind of eerie here. No lights, the doors were all left open and there were no people to be seen. 

“So these are our shower rooms,” Harry started as we walked into the building after he unlocked it, “We normally take the first one, so you can just put your stuff in there.”

The dressing room was big and spacious. Everyone had a seat, there was a whiteboard in there and the showers were in a separate room. The closet that stood against the wall next to the showers, held all the equipment. “There,” Harry said, as he took my bag and placed my stuff in, “A special place for you.”

As he placed my stuff in the closet, I could finally see how he’d looked up close. He still had his short sleeved football shirt on, revealing his tattoos on his arms. For a guy that was still in college, he sure had a lot of them. Not that I minded. 

“Thank you Harry,” I smiled at him, at which he winked in return when he faced me again. Gosh, I could almost feel myself getting red. I was acting like a schoolgirl, I needed to step up my game. “I’ll remember this place,” I said, as I looked at the showers. I could almost imagine all the naked boys right here. 

I smirked, glancing at the shower himself, “I’m sure you will.”

After making sure everything was locked and closed, we started to walk back to the parking lot.  I was sure Harry was also with his car, considering campus was at least a twenty minute walk. Right as we reached our cars and I wanted to say goodbye, he faced me again and leaned on his already open door, “You know what, Mattie?”

I looked up from the inside of my car towards him, giving him a questioning look. “What?”

“You free Saturday?”

He said it so casually that I wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t asking me out on a date was he? I mean, I was attracted to the guy but I barely knew him! And it wasn’t like I wanted to go out with him, really. But I did want to see him. With hesitation evident in my voice, I answered him, “Yeah, why?”

He saw my facial expression and laughed a bit, “To take you up on my offer. We’re having a party again at our house, so if you’d like to come?”

I almost sighed in relief, “Yeah, I’d like that, thank you Harry.” 

He shot a quick wink at me as he started to climb in his car, “No worries!” As a last afterthought, right as I wanted to shut my door, I heard him shout, “And bring your friends!”

--

My friend Niamh was present at the game this time, too. We were here a little early, so we could catch up on our week and talk about everything that had happened to us. She was a friend from years ago, almost from when we were kids, so she knew everything about me. Unfortunately, she didn’t want to be a doctor and had chosen to go pursue her dancing career. She was really good at it, too. She was asked to dance in videoclips and she often performed on stage with singers or bands. It was her job now, one she always wanted. It made me proud of her, because she actually went for it, and ignored her parent’s complaints about it. She had proved them and their comments about how she was never going to make it, wrong. 

We sat in the canteen, which was still fairly quiet. The game would start at two, and it was now one thirty. I had only been to a professional game once, and then I arrived at two on the dot and I didn’t even look if there were many people there. The only time I’d been here was when I met up with the trainer to see if this was the right place for me to take my extra credits. I could choose to work in an elderly home, or at the swimming pool, but I had decided that this would be more fun for me. I didn’t mind watching 22 boys running after a ball for two hours back to back, particularly. 

Niamh had ordered a coffee whereas I preferred cold drinks over hot drinks, so I just stuck with some soda. “So how has your week been, Matts?” She said as she took a sip of her drink. 

I smiled at her, excited to tell her she would be having something to do tonight, “Actually, I need to invite you to something.”

Her eyebrows perked up, and she placed the drink on the table, “To where?”

I grinned, “Harry Styles asked me if I wanted to come to this party at his house tonight, and said I could bring some friends.” 

“No way!” She exclaimed gasping, “Harry Styles from the team?” 

I nodded happily back at her, “That’s the one.”

She already started to grab her phone, so she could text our friends, I presumed. “When did he ask you this? I didn’t even know you talked to him!”

After I placed my drink down from taking a sip of it myself, I shrugged casually at her. “Well, I had to help at that game you know,” I said as she nodded at me, “And right after he had to show me where I could put my stuff and started talking about this party he had this Wednesday----”

“Oh yes!” She interrupted me with wide eyes, “So that’s the party Emily talked about! She said she had fucked the captain of the team, and that he was quite good. That’s Harry right?” 

I paused, opening my mouth in surprise. “What? Yeah he is the captain.” 

“That’s so sick! I have to text Emily about this party tonight then,” She said, grinning excitedly at me and putting her phone down to look at me again. “Anyway, go on, I’m listening.”

I coughed, choosing to ignore this disappointing bit of information, “Yeah so he told me about that party and that he couldn’t invite me then, which is a bit weird if I think about it now, but anyways, he invited me for tonight and said I could bring some friends.” I forced a smile on my face as I finished my story and looked at her. 

She copied my smile, “That’s great! Maybe I can finally meet Niall and get to know him better, if you know what I mean,” She said as she wiggled her eyebrows. 

I laughed, genuinely excited for her. “I hope you will!” 

After I had finished my drink, I announced to Niamh that I had to leave if I wanted to be at the dug-outs on time. She wished me well, and said that she would see me tonight. After I hugged her and said goodbye to her and the bartender who had served us, I walked out of the canteen towards the shower rooms. 

I needed to grab my bag if I wanted to be helping players today. Today they had to play against a popular college not far away from where we’re from, so it was kind of exciting to be able to see that. The coach had probably announced who would be playing and who wouldn’t for today, which made the pressure on the players to play well a tad bit higher. I knew that obviously Harry and Louis would be playing, along with our goalie Liam, but the rest of the team was still unsure. For me it would be kind of fun if Niall was still benched, just for entertainment, but he would rather be on the field, I’m sure. Hopefully his knee was doing better.

I had reached the shower rooms and discovered that the door was still open, allowing me to walk right in the building. I knew Harry said it was the first one when we dropped my bag off, so without hesitation I whipped open the door. Right as I did that, I heard commotion and deep yelling from from the inside, causing me to rapidly close the door again. Shit. How the fuck was I supposed to know they were still here, they were just warming up outside!

Bowing my head in embarrassment, I quickly walked out of the building. I would just grab my bag when they were out so I didn’t have to walk in with all of them staring at me. I waited outside, leaning against the wall and just staring ahead at the field they would be playing on. They were taking their sweet time. Probably just discussing the match quickly just before the game started, but to me it felt like ages.  

The other team was walking towards the field in a pack, and the referee started to walk towards this building, probably to let our team know the game was about to start. I actually felt nerves bubbling in my stomach, with everything being so serious in comparison to the last game. There were a lot of supporters walking towards the bleachers, too. 

I was just staring at the field again when the door opened and everyone on the team started to walk out. First it was the coach and trainer, who nodded in greeting. The coach was needed here too, apparently. I saw that Niall walked in the front with his jacket still on, so that meant he was benched again. When he walked by me, he ruffled my hair. “Hey Matts!” 

“Hey!” I shouted after him, “I’m here to help you, you know!”

He turned around and laughed loudly, pointing at his knee, “Not me!’

At that, I didn’t have anything back to say knowing he was benched again, so I just shook my head. 

“Is he messing with you?” 

I heard Harry’s voice before I saw him, making me look up towards him. He was walking at the back of the team’s row to get out of the building with a smile on his face, standing out from everyone else walking before him.  

When he reached me, he stopped and raised his eyebrows, awaiting my answer. “No it’s just Niall,” I told him, shrugging my shoulders indifferently. 

“Right,” He smirked, “Well, I figured ‘t was you that tried to come in during our important speech, so I decided to grab your bag for you.” 

My heart swelled just a little bit at his kind gesture, having not expected this at all from him. Shit, you should never listen to rumours, huh? He proved once again that he could actually be kind.

“Wow, Harry! Thank you so much. That’s so kind of you to do that!” I grabbed the bag from him and in a split second decided I wanted to hug him. I threw myself in his arms, catching him off guard for a second. My bag that I now carried in my hand whipped him in his back, causing him to groan in my shoulder. Hugging me back, he draped his arms slowly around me, positioning them right above my ass. 

When I loosened my arms around him, I nodded my head towards the field, “You should probably go,”

He nodded in confirmation, still standing in close proximity to me. “I do.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder blades, and wished him luck for the game, “Break a leg Harry, or don’t actually.”

He laughed at my comment, showing me his dimples. Before he walked away towards the field, he winked at me, “I’ll try not to.”

When I saw him run on the field and give his teammates one last cheer for good luck, I smirked to myself watching him. It was a good choice to wear my tight yoga pants again, at least. 

--

The game was very intense. Not like practise-match intense, but full on competition match intense. Louis luckily hadn’t faked any injuries yet, so that was a good sign. However, I had to run on the field in the first half for Liam, who had taken a good shot right in his eye. He fell to the ground, making me run on the field for him. When I got there, he was already sitting up and not at all groaning in pain like Louis had, making me smile a bit. At least Liam could handle something. I also discovered his injury wasn’t fake, because I could see a bruise forming immediately. I cooled it a little, but told him it would be better if he took some rest. He said that he’d be fine and would just tell me and the coach if he wanted to switch between the other goalkeeper and him. I was still a bit concerned, but he insisted. So I walked back with my supplies and some worries, hoping that it was really just a shot with the ball, and it wouldn’t turn out to be something worse. 

The score was 2-1 for our team, with just ten minutes to go when I came back from grabbing some more water. It was so tense, all the players were proper going for it. The bleachers were filled with supporters, all reacting to the match as if their life depended on it. When the opponents came near our goal, they would stand up and shout at our defenders. And when our team was striking and near the opponents goal, they would yell and scream for us to score. I was nervous too. I was on the edge of my seat, hoping that the score would stay the same. I was fiddling with the hem of my shirt to stop myself from standing up and screaming towards the players. 

We did have a good few people that came out to support us, yes. But our biggest supporter sat on the bench. He was biting his nails, screaming in frustration and cursing loudly whenever we missed a goal. 

“Fuck! Who in their goddamn mind would even pass like that!”, or “Holy shit! That was fucking close!” and my favourite: “Son of a… get that fucking ball in the goal you arseholes!”

Least to say, I was entertained for the match.  

Currently we had the ball on our side, passing each other the ball and walking forwards towards the goal. Once we had crossed the midfielders of the opponents, Zayn passed the ball towards Brad who then passed it on to Ben. Ben had a good shot, and could easily get the ball miles away. So when Louis sprinted towards the goal, Ben saw an opportunity to pass the ball onto him. He put the ball in front of him and shot the ball, right into Louis’ feet. I could see that Louis was looking for someone to help him out, because there were two defenders near the goal and he couldn’t pass them himself. Luckily Harry had seen it, and sprinted with him on the other side. He made sure he ran close to the goal but not to close, so he had the space to shoot the ball right in if he got it. He shouted for Louis to pass the ball onto him, and Louis immediately did. The ball was flying over the defenders, in a straight line towards Harry. Harry prepared for it, taking his foot back so he could place it right on it. He jumped, the ball almost near him, and kicked the ball--- 

Right before he could kick it, a defender sprung onto him making Harry fall right to the ground. “Nooooo!” Niall yelled loudly from beside me, “For fuck’s sake no!”

I heard everyone gasp from the audience, immediately voicing their worries from behind me. I panicked for a second, freezing in my spot. Shit! Harry just fell to the ground. He was laying there, in pain. I heard the coach shout my name, making me snap back to reality. Immediately I grabbed my bag, and ran towards him in a hurry. Shiiit. Why Harry? Others had gathered around him, so I couldn’t see how Harry was doing. Right as I arrived near him, I shouted for them to walk away. 

“Everyone! Leave!” 

My voice must have sounded really angry or intimidating, because everyone hurried away quickly. This way, I could finally see Harry. He was laying on the ground, on his back. He had his hands on his forehead, making me think there was something wrong with his head. Hopefully he didn’t have a concussion or something. The defender that had pushed him to the ground, was still looking at Harry. He was probably worried about what he’d done, but I didn’t care. 

“What are you doing? Leave!” 

He started saying that he was sorry, and that he could help, but I wasn’t having it. “I don’t care, leave before I force you.” 

He nodded, worry evident on his face. For a second I felt bad, but then I saw that Harry was still laying here, and then those thoughts escaped my mind right away. The defender walked away eventually, leaving me alone with Harry. I looked at him, seeing how he had one hand over his head, feeling for bruising. The moment I sat down next to him, he turned his head towards me. He opened his eyes, and smiled.

“Am I dreaming?” 

Relief washed over me immediately. At least he could still make jokes. I began sitting next to his head, wetting my sponge once again and placing it over his head. “You okay, Harry?” 

He nodded, his head in front of my knees on the ground. I looked at him from above, so that I could see how his body reacted when I would do certain things to see if he was okay. Right now I had my hands on his forehead with the sponge in between, “I’m fine actually, Mattie. I just wanted you to come save me.”

I rolled my eyes, not believing him. “No you didn’t.” 

He laughed, causing his chest to go up and down, “I did,” He smirked, his eyes shining as he looked at me. 

I shook my head in disbelief, staring at him smiling at me for a second. But then I remembered I could take revenge. He saw that I was wetting the sponge again, and began to sit up straight. “No you won’t!’

I began splashing him with water in revenge, making him soaking wet. I was laughing my ass off, seeing him so flustered and shocked at what I was doing. “Mattie! Shit, stop!”

I was aware that the rest of the team and the coach were still watching us, so I stopped splashing him, throwing the sponge in the water bag. I took a step towards his soaked body, pressing my lips together and looking him in the eye mischievously. “Next time you’ll play a joke on me like that, I’ll take you to the hospital so you’ll have to sit next to Niall for a month.”

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “Noted, doc, noted.” 

As I walked away smiling and the referee began gathering everyone together again, I heard him shout one more thing after me, “I’ll pay you back tonight Mattie! Watch out!”

I just shot my middle finger in the air, hearing him bark out another laugh in response. 

--

The party was in full swing when Niamh, Emily, Joey and I arrived. It was in Harry’s and his roommates’ house, one that I had never been in before, let alone seen how packed it could be. Everyone that was just a little bit known around campus, was there. I recognized some people from my class, and others I knew because they were popular around campus. 

When we arrived, the door was unlocked and you could just walk right in. That wasn’t unusual with the parties I went to, if we ever went to house parties. There was a pile of jackets formed, so we just threw ours over it. Joey and Emily claimed they knew some people and went off to speak to them, leaving me and Niamh alone at the party. 

“Let’s have a drink,” Niamh said to me over the loud music, “We need to get drunk to process this!”

I nodded in agreement, already taking her arm towards the kitchen. It was already quite busy, but we had come a little late. We didn’t want to be the first ones to arrive, as we didn’t know a lot of people here. All the drinks were placed on a table, leaving us with a lot of choice of what we wanted to drink tonight. I hadn’t realised before this that these college boys actually spend a lot of time planning these things. They had a lot to think about. And to be fair, they had done a good job at it.

We had appropriately dressed ourselves, luckily. Since we didn’t really know what to expect, we just went for black: Niamh wearing a tight dress with spaghetti straps and me wearing a skirt with a t-shirt. It was something you could never go wrong with.

I poured myself some alcohol, waiting for Niamh to do the same. Once we both had our drinks, we leaned against the table and started looking at people. This was our favourite activity to do. You saw some crazy people at parties, so we had a lot to think about. 

“Oh wow, there’s already people on the edge of drunkenness.” Niamh laughed, raising her eyebrows at a boy who had run straight towards the loo. “Jesus wept.”

“Shit,” I exclaimed, looking at a girl who had just came in with a gift in her hand, “It’s someone’s birthday? Did we need to bring a gift?”

She just shrugged her shoulders at me. “No fucking clue.” And resumed to look around the room. We had been sipping on our drinks lightly, just enjoying the music that was blasting loudly and how everyone was dancing and talking with each other.

“Look at that girl, she's going for it!” Niamh pointed out at me, looking at a girl that was standing in the middle of the room, dancing her ass off. I followed her gaze, seeing how the girl was dancing to the music, not caring about anyone it seemed like. I wish I could be like her. “She’s really good!”

Right as I wanted to respond to Niamh, I saw that Louis had walked in the door she was close to. I rolled my eyes and turned around, looking at the sink. 

“What’re you doing?” Niamh asked me incredulously, looking at me over her shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” I answered her, “He just annoys me.”

She came to stand beside me, searching for my eyes. “How? Last time we talked about him you said he was hot!”

I shrugged my shoulders again, “He’s just annoying.”

“Right.” She answered, turning around again and taking a sip of her drink. “If you want to fuck him just tell me. I could be your wing woman.”

I bumped my hips with hers, and turned around to look at the crowd again, “Never.” 

She laughed, standing up straight and finishing up her drink. “Okay then, just tell me why another time. I just saw Harry come in and you need to talk with him.” 

Immediately I felt my stomach go wild. Shit. My eyes began to search around the room, looking for his head of curls amongst the crowd. I found him talking with a friend of his from his team, who’s name I couldn’t remember. Harry looked extremely attractive tonight. Instead of the usual kit I saw him in, he wore all black. His black vans stood out with the other clothing he wore, black skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Even with such a simple look, he made it seem like he wore a million dollars. As he was talking, his jawline moved with his mouth and it made me just weak in the knees. He was actually so hot, how hadn’t I fully appreciated this man before? 

It seemed like he was asking if his friend wanted a drink, because he leaned into him with his ear, nodded and started walking away towards the kitchen. Oh no, why had I been sitting in the kitchen, so obviously out in the open? He strode confidently towards the drinks, when in mid-walk he saw me sitting there. Niamh also recognised him and saw he was walking over here, so she made up an excuse to leave. “Just need the loo for a moment,” 

I couldn’t answer her, because Harry interrupted my thoughts. He was also smirking at me as he arrived right in front of me, only leaving a few inches in between us. I crossed my arms, looking up at him challengingly. 

“Hey doc,” he greeted, speaking in a raspy voice. He began to smile mischievously, making me wonder what he was going to say, “Or should I say, hero?”

I groaned out loud, hitting him in the chest with one hand, and shaking my head. It made him laugh, making his chest vibrate. I could almost feel the vibrations with how close we were. “Shut up,”

He was still chuckling a bit as if he were still thinking about it. Suddenly he stopped, and looked me right in the eyes. “Really though, that was really hot with how you fought everyone out of your way for me.”

I felt my face go warm and I tried to not to smile too much. “Thank you,” I said, straightening up a bit and raising my chin up at him, “But like hell that I fought everyone away.” 

He gasped, nudging me with his arms “Heyy, you did!” he said with a fake offense, frowning his eyebrows, “You were basically performing CPR on me with the way you acted!”

I laughed, making me lean into him a little bit and hide in his shoulder. When I brought myself back in front of him, I raised my eyebrows at him, “You would like me to give you a mouth to mouth performance, wouldn’t you?” 

My heart skipped a bit when he got all serious and looked me straight in the eye. “I would,” 

Our eye contact was intense, I could feel it in my stomach. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my face. I was almost certain that he could feel my heartbeat against his chest. We weren’t even touching completely, but it was beating so hard that I wouldn’t doubt it. I looked at his green eyes, to his plump and pink lips. They were a nice shape, and I felt the urge to just kiss them. I didn’t though, maybe he did this with every other girl he tried to get in his bed. 

I was proven right when he took my hand, “Come with me,” 

I tried to act confused, furrowing my eyebrows, “Where to?” 

He didn’t respond, just tugged on my hand and began leading the way. People weren’t even looking at us, they were dancing or drinking and talking. And even though I liked doing those things at parties, this thing that I thought Harry was planning to do with me, seemed much more fun. 

He made his way towards the door to go upstairs, avoiding bumping in with people or getting splashed by someone’s drink. Once we were on the way up he let go of my hand so we could walk better. There were only one or two people upstairs, making out with each other or searching for someone. Two doors were open out of the four, and Harry went into a closed one with me. 

He revealed his bedroom to me, which was completely dark apart from the moon that lit up the room a little bit. His room was mostly a dark blue, with a grey colour covering the one wall that wasn’t blue. His bed stood in the middle of the room with two bedside tables next to it. He had a desk and his sports bag that he had used still stood in his room, untouched. He didn’t have a desk, but a dresser was shoved against the wall. Once I did my onceover, I saw Harry standing in front of his bed, looking at me. 

He smiled, and began to walk over to me again, making me back into the door once he reached me completely. He stood closer than he did when we were in the kitchen, his pelvis against mine and his chest leaning against my body. “Hey,” He said again, even raspier this time. 

I looked up at him, examining his face, “Hey.”

He cleared his throat, and hesitated a bit, “Can I kiss you?”

I hesitated, “One thing.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Tell me you don’t fuck girls every week, otherwise I won’t be able to handle this.”

He took a step back, frowning, “Who told you that?”

Looking up at him, I felt myself growing more nervous, “Just hear that about you.”

He looked up at the ceiling, then back at me. “I promise you Mattie. I didn’t bring you here or invite you just to fuck you. I’d happily talk with you all night. You seem fun.”

I smiled, “And,” he continued, “my roommates are the ones who get laid every party. I do have sex yeah, but I promise you, I haven’t had sex since the first week of this semester.”

With the sincerity in his eyes, I believed him, “Okay, you can kiss me now.”

“Only if you want to.”

I looked into his eyes, “I really do.”

With one nod and another reassuring glance he was in the clear and we were done with being slow. He smacked his lips against mine, moving his arms from against the door to my body. Roaming his hand around my hips to my ass as he hungrily kissed me. I kissed him back, recuperating his movements. He squeezed my ass, making me gasp a little bit, giving him access to use his tongue in the kiss as well. I moved my arms from his shoulders to his neck, pushing him closer to me with my fingertips in his hair. Our tongues were wet and desperate, making the kiss hot and heavy. Once he had enough of just making out, he grabbed me by my thighs and lifted me up, turning me around towards the bed. 

I fell backwards onto his soft mattress, with Harry on top of me. My legs were around him in an instant, crossing my feet on his back. I still had my sneakers on and all my clothes, but not for long. Harry’s hand went from my ass to the hem of my shirt. I lifted my back for him, pausing in the kiss, to let him take my top off in one swift movement, leaving me in my bra. I didn’t wear my sexiest bra, but he didn’t seem to mind. His mouth went from the sweet spots on my neck towards my cleavage, leaving wet kisses on my body. He was already working on getting my bra off, pushing the straps off my shoulders. I sat upright for him, making him readjust his position to get closer to me. He was struggling with the clasp, so I unclasped my bra for him and threw it on the ground. He didn’t waste any time cupping my breasts, feeling them and leaning in my neck to leave some more spots, but I wasn’t having it. I pushed him away on his chest, making him stand on the ground again. He looked at me in confusion for a moment, until I stood up and pushed him on the bed. I bent my knees so I could reach his t-shirt, and he got the idea. Moving his arms up to let me take his shirt off, he gladly let me do it. 

His chest was revealed to me, just like mine was to him. This wasn’t enough, though. I crouched on my knees completely so I was level with his belly button, and began to unbutton his jeans. His bulge was evident in the tight material, so when I moved the zipper down I cupped him over his jeans and pants, making him groan in response. 

“Fuck, Mattie.” 

I just smiled at him, moving to tug at his jeans. He got the hint and thrust his hips up, so I could take his jeans off. Once they were off, he was just left in his boxers. I moved a little closer to him, so I was level with his bulge, making me look up at him with wide eyes. “Impressive,” I smirked. 

He wasn’t having it, and took his boxers off immediately, revealing his dick to me that sprung to his stomach. He must be proper into it, because I had never had a man be this turned on from just kissing. He threw his boxers onto the pile we had already made, and leaned on his arms so he could look at me properly. I took him in my hands, gliding my thumb over his tip. I looked at him for his consent, and he nodded at me eagerly. That was all I needed before I licked him on the tip. He responded loudly, groaning and moaning through the room. I never knew he was so loud in the bedroom. 

I licked him from his balls to the tip, and let him slip in my mouth to take all of him. He moved his hand in my hair, not pushing me, but finally having something he could do with his hands. 

I started bobbing my head up and down, all the while looking at him how he responded to me. His eyes were closed and his pink lips were voluminous and opened just slightly. 

I enjoyed giving blowjobs, especially if it was someone as responsive as Harry. He was groaning and moaning for me, letting me know how much he enjoyed it. “A-ah,” He cried once I hit him in the back of my throat. “Fuck,”

Kissing his tip, feeling his balls and sliding my tongue over his dick was making me wet as well. He still had one hand in my hair, the other going from my arms that were drawn over his upper thighs. My naked boobs rested on his naked legs, and my still clothed butt was stuck in the air. 

He slid his hand over my arm and went to my back, leaning over my head that was still bobbing over his cock. Once he could reach the hem of my skirt, he started moving the zipper. At least, trying to. 

I stopped sucking him off and let my mouth pop when his dick was out of my mouth, making him moan in annoyance. I quickly took my skirt and panties off and went back on my knees in front of him, when he was the one that stopped me this time. He grabbed my arms and basically threw me on the bed, covering my body immediately. Fuck, he was good. 

He started kissing me again, while I searched for his dick and began giving him a handjob. He cupped my breasts and squeezed them. I started leading his dick towards my entrance, giving him a hint of what I wanted. He backed away to look at me with wide eyes, paused for a bit and went to his dresser to get a condom. I watched him as he slid it on, and grabbed his shoulders as he started to position himself in front of me. Before he did, he looked at me once more. I nodded in approval, and he slid himself in me slowly. I could feel him filling me up immediately, making me throw my head back in bliss. “Fuck, Harry..”

“You like my dick, don’t you?” He said as he began thrusting into me. 

I could only nod in response, gasping as he looked at me, “Tell me,” he said as he thrusted into me hard once, “Tell me how you feel.”

His trust were getting harder with each second I wasn’t responding, because I could only moan in pleasure, “Fuck Harry,” I moaned, “I feel so good..”

He reacted with his hips. Thrusting into me rapidly, making my breasts go up and down and the bed creak against the wall. “I know, baby, I know.” 

“Holy shit, I do.” 

He started to kiss my neck, hungrily going for it as my legs crossed at his back once again. I was certain that the guests that were still here could hear us, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to everyone to know that he was fucking me, and not some other girl. 

“You’re so good baby, I knew it,” 

I started to roam his back with my arms, feeling his muscles move each time he thrusted. His dick was so long and hard that he hit the right spots inside of me each time. I could feel my head getting a little lighter, and my stomach filled with warmth. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, please,”

“Begging for it, see?” He cockily stated once he moved to look at me again, he even had a smirk on his face when he was fucking me. “Knew you would do me good,”

“Mhh, Harry, almost there,” 

“Me too, baby, me too.” 

He thrusted a couple more times before I could really feel it, my pleasure taking over me completely. I came hard, my legs trembling around him and my head thrown back. My orgasm made me cry out loud, and he was still going at it. 

He was coming too, I knew it. His thrust became harder before they slowed down, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. He groaned loudly when he came, looking beautiful while he did. His cheeks had gone slightly pink, making his lips stand out even more, and his hair was all dishevelled and damp with sweat. Once I felt that he filled the condom inside of me, he opened up his eyes and slid out of me. 

We both smiled at each other and started catching our breaths from out intensive activities, “Fuck, Mattie.” He laughed, pulling out of me completely and leaned on his arms to stand up. Once he cleaned up the condom, throwing it in the bin, he started walking back to the bed. He plopped on it, almost on top of me. “That was good.” 

I nodded in response, “Almost as good as Louis’ goals.” I smirked, hoping to get a reaction out of him with bullshit. 

He laughed, letting his head fall on the pillow, “Shut up.”

There we lay, both naked over the covers with our chest moving as we breathed, still hearing the thumping music from downstairs where the party was still going in full swing. 

“I told you,” He started, looking at me playfully, “I would get you wet later.” 

I groaned, but couldn’t help to let a laugh escape. I grabbed my pillow from underneath my head, saw how he was smiling to himself, and smacked him in the head with it. 

Payback, my arse.

------------------

Thank you for reading!! If you want more, let me know. This was my first real one shot and I’m working on other stuff as well. xxxxxxx

[themadlostgirl]

When It’s Cold (9)

*School is out! Writers block is over! I have finally updated! It’s a good day. Have some soft Felix mixed with a little smut.*

~~~

Felix was able to keep his cool up until he closed your bedroom door. Then he promptly dropped to the floor with his face buried in his hands. All he had meant to do was check to see what you wanted for lunch! How did it go from something so innocent to something so salacious in that quick a turn?

You had been behaving weird that morning and he was concerned something was wrong. When he came downstairs to find you though he realized exactly what was going on. He knew that he should have turned away and leave you to your privacy but he couldn’t look away. It was just like that night he had heard you outside your bedroom door except this time he had a visual as well.

Next thing he knew he was kneeling on the floor with his head between your legs. For as much as he thought about devouring you, actually doing it was another thing entirely. All he had were the fantasies in his head to guide him. But when you responded so beautifully to him he found his confidence surging. It made him so happy to know that he was making you feel good. Amazing even. That’s what you had said anyway. You felt amazing.

After that day you took his words to heart and did not hesitate to tell him when you were horny as all hell. Which turned out to be often. Not that he was complaining. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

You had not gotten to the point where you asked him for proper sex though. A few times he thought you would but you always asked for something else. It was obvious that you both wanted each other and you two had already done so much together he was wondering why you were holding back on this. Not that he was going to rush you into it. He said he would go at your pace and he meant that. Still, he had to wonder what was going on in that brain of yours that you would keep denying each other what you both clearly wanted.

It was late in the morning. You and Felix had yet to get out of bed. It was a dreary day outside and the warmth of the blankets was too cozy to leave. You were nestled under Felix’s arm, eyes closed, still in that pocket of drowsiness where you were aware of the world but had yet to greet it properly. He figured now was a good as time as any to find out why you avoided sex proper.

“Darling,” He spoke softly so not to disturb the hazy peace you were wrapped in, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” you hummed, burrowing closer into him.

“Do you not want to have sex?”

That got your attention. Your eyes squinted open to look at him. “What?”

“I only ask because we’ve been doing quite a lot of other stuff but you’ve never asked me to make love to you. Do you just not want to or are you not ready?”

“Oh um…” Your face was hot to the touch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not that. I just...I was kinda…” You closed your eyes again, “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready.”

“Waiting for me? Why would you be waiting for me to be ready? What makes you think that I’m not ready?”

“Well you never initiate anything so…”

“Because I didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to do.”

“Also, we’ve been messing around for weeks now and you have never once let me blow you, even though I have offered.”

“Not this again,”

“I’m curious as to why you are so opposed to the idea. I thought that was supposed to be a thing boys liked.”

“It is but I don’t know how I feel about kissing the same mouth that had my dick in it.”

“How is that any different from you kissing me after you go down on me?”

“Ah...I see your point.” he was blushing, honest to god blushing.

Felix couldn’t bring himself to voice his other concern. He had fantasized about you taking him in your mouth before but he was worried that in practice he would get lost in his hormones and end up being too rough with you. He didn’t want to hurt you after all.

“Felix,” you snuggled closer to him, “I want to have all this with you but you can’t rely on me to start everything. Take some initiative. This isn’t just about me, this is about you too. I want to make you feel good and please you too. Okay?”

“You unravel me,” Felix grabbed you and rolled you over so he was on top of you. Your body was pushed deeper into the mattress as he hungrily sought your mouth with his. You always tasted so sweet. Even first thing in the morning.

Your legs hooked around his hips pushing him closer. His cock started to stir and he groaned as he started rutting against you, desperate for more of the sweet friction between your bodies. An animalistic side of him wanted tear the clothes from your body and pound into you with rough, reckless abandon. The sane part of him let those thoughts stay in his head as he continued to grind against your clothed sex.

You panted and moaned underneath him and it spurred him on more. That voice in his head telling him he was doing something good. He was making you feel nice. He was doing a good job.

He lavished hot kisses to your neck that had you crying out in pleasure. Your own hips met his as you frantically chased your growing pleasure. His own orgasm was starting to peak and fast if he didn’t slow down at all. But he didn’t want to. Everything felt too good. But he wanted you to finish first. Always you first.

He pulled your shirt up so he had access to your chest and sucked greedily on the bud of your soft, supple tits. “Felix, fuck!” you moaned loudly. You were getting closer. Your grinding becoming clumsier as you neared your peak.

He moved back up to your neck, gently nipping at the lobe of your ear as he ground against you harder. You held him tighter, like a snake coiled around its prey. God he loved it.

“Touch yourself,” he told you, “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

One of the hands holding onto him slipped underneath the band of your sleep pants and swiped at your clit in graceless fast circles. “Good girl,” he praised, “Such a good girl,”

“Felix!” you moaned louder, “Close! So close! I need to--need to--”

“I know, baby. Almost there,” He pulled back so he was staring at your face. He loved watching your expression when you fell apart. “Look at me,” your eyes opened so you were looking directly into his eyes, “I want you looking at me when you cum. Come on, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

“Felix! Shit! Fuck! Yes! Yes! Please!” He watched in rapture as your orgasm overcame you and the intelligence behind your eyes disappeared as pleasure overtook you. God, it was so satisfying seeing that expression on you.

Felix wasn’t too far off now and his need was only getting worse. “Felix,” you touched his face as some semblance of lucidity returned to you, “Do what you need to to make yourself feel good okay? I’m not gonna break. I want you to feel good too.”

“Damn woman,” he grabbed you by the hips and pushed against your clothed sex harder. He could feel the faint wetness that had soaked through your pants with your orgasm. It was like a flipped got switched in him. Those animalistic feelings before creeping up again as he ground against you faster, harder, rougher, chasing his own pleasure with no regard for anything else. He came with a shout of your name, still rutting against you in more slow and gentle movements as he rode out the high.

It had left a mess in his pants but that was hardly a problem right now. “Is that what you wanted, little girl?” Felix asked, his voice gravelly.

“Mmhmm,” You held him closer, pressing soft kisses along his shoulder and neck. “And I bet it felt damn good too, didn’t it?”

“So good, darling,” he cracked a lopsided smile. “How does pancakes sound for breakfast?”

“Yes please!”

The next night was the night of the dinner. Felix had been planning for it for weeks and finally he was executing it. Your dessert rested already made. The one contribution you had made to the meal while Felix prepped everything else. It was a frantic couple of hours as he got everything assembled and made sure to time everything so it was done at the correct time.

The dinner sat in the kitchen ready to go as the night grew late. It was almost time. He got changed and waited in the dining room for you. His heart was beating hard in his chest. Why was he so nervous about this? It was just dinner. Sure he put a lot of effort into it but it shouldn’t be making him this anxious.

The dining room door opened and Felix held his breath. You entered wearing a pure white dress that complimented your figure immensely. You had even made an effort to style your hair past what you normally did. “You look beautiful,” the words left his mouth in an awed hush.

“This room looks beautiful,” you approached the table. You regarded the choice of table dressing with a knowing smirk. “I thought you said candlelight and rose petals was pushing things and yet I see both here.”

“I also said that I was gonna wear sweats. Things change,” he gestured to the simple white button up shirt, and black slacks he had purchased in secret.

“You even got a tie,” your hands ran over the black tie knotted messily around his collar, “And here I thought you were too good for a monkey suit.”

“It’s not a full stuffy death trap,” he shrugged, “Besides, I would be looking like a real bum next to you if I hadn’t decided to dress up last minute. How does it look?”

“You look incredibly handsome and sexy,” you pulled him down by his tie to kiss him, “You are definitely going to have to wear this for me again some time.”

“This doing something for ya, darling?” Felix smirked.

“Oh definitely,” you grinned wider.

“Well you are just gonna have to stew in those dirty thoughts of yours because from here on out tonight is about the food.” He pulled your chair out, “Now sit your ass down,”

“Oh what a gentleman,” you giggled before taking the seat. The dinner went by without a hitch as Felix served up the food. He watched as you ate everything with such glee and praise. It was a rather delicious dinner. It had better have been considering how much work he put into making it.

This was nice. It was nothing different from what you two did every day but this felt far more intimate. He had done all this to impress you. He had lit candles and scattered rose petals to make it romantic. All these little details and it just made your smile wider.

After you finished the main course it was time for dessert. Felix made to stand and grab it but you shot to your feet first. “No you don’t,” you started walking towards the kitchen, “You have done everything else tonight. I at least get to serve the dessert.”

“Sounds good to me,” he leaned back in his chair, “I deserve a little pampering too, after all.”

You rolled your eyes and rushed into the kitchen and emerged again with two plates.

“Here we are!” You set a plate down in front of him. “I know how much you love sweet and salty desserts so I made this salted maple pie. I hope you like it.”

“Sounds delicious.” Felix looked down at his plate and paused.

Resting on top of his slice of pie was a white sand dollar. He gently picked it up and inspected it. It was perfect. No chips or cracks. He looked up and saw you watching him with a wide smile. “What’s this about?” He asked.

“Well,” You squirmed in your seat, “I remembered you talking about how you collected sand dollars while on Neverland so I thought that you may like it. Maybe now that we live here you can start a new collection.”

You remembered that? He had only mentioned it once and that was months ago now. But here it was. Felix would never say he was one that was easily ruled by emotion. A sentiment that lost more meaning the more time he spent with you and tonight was no different. This was hands down one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. It made him feel all warm inside. Not like the hot lust he had become familiar with but a comforting warmth. Like you had draped a blanket fresh out of the dryer over him. It felt...it felt like...love.

Love.

You were still watching him. You started fiddling with your nails like you did when you got nervous. “It’s okay if you don’t like it.” You said suddenly, “I just thought that because of what you said that you would--it doesn’t matter. Please, try some of the pie. I think you’ll really like it.”

You thought he didn’t like your gift. That wasn’t a shock since he had just stared at it instead of saying anything about your perfect token. What was he expected to say though? What could he say for something this personal? Just saying that he loved it didn’t seem like enough.

“Darling,” He reached across and took your hand. You looked at him with wide eyes like a startled deer. How much he loved gazing into those eyes. “Can I make love to you?”

“Huh?” Came your articulate response. Felix tried not to chuckle at your shocked expression.

“I love this.” He held up the sand dollar, “I love that you thought to give me this. No one has ever done something like this for me and I--” Words escaped him as he tried to articulate what was going through his brain. “I want to show you how much I love it if you would let me make love to you tonight.”

“Felix…” You squeezed his hand, “I would love nothing more.”

“Come along then, little girl,” He stood up. “No time to waste.”

“You mean right now? Don’t we need to clean up dinner?”

“Worry about it tomorrow. Right now I just want you.” He pulled you to your feet.

“Okay,” Your voice was hushed, “We should at least blow out the candles first.”

“Right.” You two went about blowing out the candles dotted around the room. Felix turned to look at you and his gaze wandered down to your shapely ass bent over the table to blow out some of the candles. It wasn’t lust that kept his gaze locked there though.

“Um, darling,” Felix said. You straightened up and turned to him. “There’s a stain on your dress.”

“A stain? Where?” You looked down your torso.

“Not there.” He motioned to behind you, “There’s a dark stain on your butt.”

“My butt?” You looked puzzled for a moment before abject horror settled in. You looked down with a growing sense of dread. “No. No no no no no NO!” You scuttled off towards the bathroom. Felix finished blowing out the candles and followed after you.

“Are you alright?” He asked through the door.

You cracked the door open with a deep frown. “I’m sorry, Felix.” You mumbled, “We can’t have sex tonight.”

“Okay. But are you alright? You’re worrying me, darling.”

“I’ll be fine.” You scowled, “I got my period. So sex is kind of off the table until it’s over which will be a few days. I didn’t even realize it was blood, I thought I was wet down there cause I was turned on. This sucks!”

Felix was a tad disappointed but that hardly mattered now. So he had to wait a few more days to make sweet love to you. That was hardly anything to get upset about. He hugged you close and whispered words of reassurance to you. He wanted you to know it was alright.

“It’s bad enough I’m bleeding out of my vagina but it just had to go and ruin my pretty new dress too!” You whined as Felix led you back upstairs, “I really liked it.”

“I’m sure we can get a little blood out of your pretty dress, darling.” Felix kissed the top of your head, “For now, go clean yourself up and get comfortable. Okay?”

“Care to join me?” You asked. “Just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean you can’t join me for a quick shower.”

“Sounds great,” He followed you into the bathroom. Both of you undressed and Felix whined in his throat when he saw you in your naked glory, water streaming down your body as you beckoned him from the shower.

He stepped into the shower with you, the hot water hitting his back. You were standing right in front of him and he was having a hard time not giving in and taking you right there in the shower. He failed to see how a little blood meant that you two couldn’t be joined but it was a stopping point for you and he accepted that. But god did he want to.

While he stood admiring you, you had set about lathering up the loofah and scrubbing yourself clean. “Ah ah,” He grabbed it out of your hands, “Since I don’t get to make love to you tonight I at least get to do this.”

“What? Bathe me?” You arched an eyebrow up at him.

“Will you just let me do this for you?” He asked.

You smiled and nodded. Unlike your methodical scrubbing to quickly and efficiently wipe the day away, Felix was far more slow. Every swipe of his hands like a soft caress as he lathered your body with sweet smelling bubbles. It wasn’t even about cleaning you up, he just wanted this chance to touch you. It was one of his favorite pastimes. He loved the way you just melted into his touch and became so pliant in his arms. You relaxed and trusted him so much, you felt safe with him, and he reveled in it.

Before any of this had happened, before he came to Storybrooke with you, Felix had always been on edge. He was used to constantly having to look over his shoulder and wait tensed for danger on Neverland. He could never find a moment to let his guard down. Not even when he was sleeping. On Neverland he kept up a hard and bitter exterior to scare anyone away from trying to mess with him. It worked too. After a few years no one dared cross him. Being the guy everyone was scared of though made it very lonely. His only real friend on the island being Pan himself. He was the only one that wasn’t scared of him.

Then you came along. You two had never had many interactions on Neverland but you didn’t scuttle away from him when he crossed your path. You were wary, he could see that, but you never tried to avoid him like the others did. You trusted him just about as much as you trusted anyone else on the island which wasn’t saying much. Now here you were, sharing a shower with him while he washed your hair for you. Your eyes closed as you leaned back into the gentle scrubbing of your scalp.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?” You asked.

“For trusting me.” He kissed your shoulder. You turned around and laid your head against his chest. “I don’t think I’ve said it before but, you mean a lot to me. I need you to understand that I really do care about you. I care about you so much.”

“I care about you too.” You hugged him tighter, “I adore you, Felix.”

The both of you stood there under the hot spray of the shower until your fingers started going pruny. Felix’s attention to you didn’t stop after the pair of you got out of the shower either. He grabbed one of the towels and dried you off. You laughed when he covered your head with the towel to dry your hair.

After he got dressed for bed he ran back downstairs and grabbed the slices of pie you had left out and brought them up to the bedroom to eat. He hoped with everything in his being that you understood just how much he meant what he said...and what he had left unsaid. He hoped you felt loved. Cause that’s what it all came down to. Felix loved you. He loved you and though he didn’t have the courage to say it yet, he hoped that tonight let you know exactly what he was feeling.

When the pie was finished and the lights were turned off, Felix pulled you close to him and kissed you. “Have sweet dreams, my darling.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

[lovelylogans]

the words you read (my heart’s been displayed)

how did you know 'cause I never told but you found out I've got a crush on you the words you read, my heart's been displayed you found out I've got a crush on you —“crush on you,” the jets

warnings: awkward clueless teenagers, crushes, slightly overbearing matchmaking uncles, mentions of government surveillance, mostly fluff, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan, secondary patton/roman and janus/remus

word count: 5,761

notes: this is for day 5 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “vocab card/skateboard” and i have decided to write about vocab card! please enjoy!

⁂

In Virgil’s opinion, Logan Sanders is the cutest boy in all of the sophomore grade.

He was the cutest boy in freshman year, too, and eighth grade, and seventh, and all the way back to kindergarten, but Logan’s changed over the summer. 

He’s sprouted up a few inches, so now he’s a half-head taller than Virgil. He still looks a little gangly, like he’s going to grow more. He’d always been shorter than Virgil before. He’d gotten new glasses, too, black frames that suit him way better than the silver ovals he’d used when they were little. His voice has gotten a bit deeper, his jawline’s gotten stronger, and Virgil’s helpless crush on him has only grown with Logan.

Logan isn’t just cute, either, he’s smart. He carries around stacks of notecards, blank and filled in, and there’s all sorts of things written on it—interesting fun facts and the latest slang terms, in rubber-banded stacks next to rubber-banded stacks of notecards of terms that will be on their next exam. Logan has a way of explaining anything and everything in a way that is really understandable and never makes you feel dumb. Logan’s always top of the class.

And to make matters worse, they’re next-door-locker-neighbors this year, because Chloe-who-was-between-them-alphabetically moved away. Which means that Virgil cannot quite get away with admiring Logan from afar, the way he has since they were little. Which means that when school starts, on the first day when Logan asks him what homeroom he’s in this year, Virgil’s brain can only go ahhhhHHHHHH and the fact that oh my God Logan is tall now oh my GOD Logan has the locker next to mine now! makes him delay his answer because he’s just staring at Logan, and Logan looks at him a little oddly and then repeats his question as if he thinks Virgil didn’t hear him, and Virgil kind of wants to crawl into his locker to hide there forever thanks.

“Oh,” he manages. He closes his locker. “Um. I’m in Mr. Morales’ homeroom this year.”

Logan smiles at him. Logan SMILES AT HIM. And then he says, “I am, as well. Perhaps we’ll be seated next to each other in homeroom, in addition to being locker neighbors. I would enjoy that.”

He would ENJOY THAT!!!!!

Logan clears his throat and fiddles with his glasses, finally just pushing them a little further up his nose, even though they’re pretty high up on his nose already. “Would you like to walk together to Mr. Morales’ classroom? I was in his home economics class last year, I know where it is.”

“Um, sure,” Virgil says, voice cracking embarrassingly, and he considers opening his locker back up again so that he can hide there. He’s pretty skinny, he might be able to fit.

So they walk to Mr. Morales’ classroom. Logan’s the one talking, mostly; Virgil’s grateful for that, because he’d probably just be rambling nervously the whole time, and it’d be tempting fate to have his voice crack in front of Logan again. But now he can just listen to Logan’s various opinions about their summer reading for their English class, which is much safer. He sure has a lot of opinions about it, which makes Virgil sweat a little nervously—Logan sounds like he’s ready to sit down and write an essay about it, as if they’re going to have to, and Virgil’s pretty sure that if he sat down to take a multiple-choice quiz about that book right now he’d flunk it.

They end up not being assigned to sit next to each other. Mr. Morales says to just sit wherever, since they’re all going to go to an assembly once he takes attendance anyways, and that he probably won’t assign seats for the whole year.

And then Logan ends up sitting next to him anyways.

Like he really meant that he’d like to be next to Virgil in homeroom.

Mr. Morales smiles at them, and then, inexplicably, gives Logan a double thumbs up? And then Logan’s cheeks go kind of red? Logan turns his face away from Mr. Morales, turning to more fully face Virgil.

“You were in his class last year, right?” Virgil says.

“Erm, yeah. Yes. I was.” Logan clears his throat, turning away from him. “He supervises my study hall, too.” Then he mumbles, “also he’s my uncle.”

“He’s your uncle?” Virgil repeats. This is news to him.

“Through marriage,” Logan explains. “Mr. Regnant is my father’s brother.”

Mr. Regnant is the arts-and-music teacher, and, though they don’t talk about it very much (students do, but then, students always gossip), Mr. Morales’ husband.

Mr. Regnant is also, not that Virgil would ever tell him so, Virgil’s favorite teacher.

“Which dad?” Virgil says, because Logan’s two dads were basically his only version of real-life gay representation when they were really little. He knows Mr. Sanders better than Logan’s other dad. 

Mr. Sanders always volunteered to be part of the PTA moms who supervised them during holiday parties and field trips, though, looking back, he doesn’t think the PTA moms liked him very much. The kids, on the other hand, loved Mr. Sanders, who would treat them like very short adults and once a year would bring in his mamba Eve for kids to pet and hold.

Logan’s other Dad had been the one who encouraged the kids to throw paints and roll around in the mud and tear things up. Logan’s other Dad had come to supervise one holiday party and was politely asked to never do so again.

“Not Pa—I mean, Janus,” Logan says, looking briefly embarrassed. “He’s Dad’s—Remus’—twin brother.”

Virgil makes an “ohhh” sound, because that makes sense. Now he’s thinking about it, Mr. Regnant and Logan’s dad really do look alike, if one looked past their contrasting senses of style. 

“That’s cool, though,” Virgil says thoughtfully. “That you’re related, I mean. Mr. Morales is really nice.”

“Yes, he is,” Logan says. “It’s been a bit strange to adjust to calling him Mr. Morales instead of Uncle Patton, though.”

“Yeah, I guess it probably would be,” Virgil says. 

The bell rings, and Mr. Morales ushers them off to the assembly.

Logan sits down next to him on the bleachers at the assembly, too. Their knees bump together as they listen to the principal welcome them back from summer vacation and give some announcements.

And Logan keeps sitting down next to him.

At lunch, in their two shared classes, in homeroom. He wishes Virgil a good morning and good afternoon every day at their locker. As the months of the school year slowly creep by, Virgil definitely does kind of feel like crawling into his locker, sometimes, but less and less so, because.

Because he and Logan are kind of friends now.

Logan asks him about his favorite hot beverage and then starts bringing him chai when he and his uncles stop by a café before school. Virgil sketches out drawings of astronauts and space when Logan goes on a loving tirade about it that lasts, on-and-off, for a week. 

He still definitely has a crush on Logan. His increased presence near him is both a blessing and a curse.

They share earbuds and laugh at videos in homeroom, they sit quietly side-by-side and do their homework together in study hall. Virgil even tags along, sometimes, when Logan takes time out of his day to visit his uncles. His uncles always seem delighted whenever Virgil drops by, which Virgil guesses makes sense—Mr. Morales is just kind of Like That, and he’s been taking classes with Mr. Regnant since freshman year, and they’ve been sassing at each other for just about as long.

Logan makes those visits rare, though. He always seems a little self-conscious about how excited his uncles are during their visits, the way they elbow Logan and give him thumbs-ups and wiggle their eyebrows. Virgil doesn’t really get it—he thinks it’s nice that his uncles are so excited to see Logan with his friend.

But then his mom unexpectedly comes by and drops off his lunch and ruffles Virgil’s hair right in front of Logan, and Virgil spends the rest of the day going beet red even Logan assures him that it’s okay and he thinks it’s nice, something in his brain... clicks. A little bit. Even though it doesn’t make sense.

Does Logan...?

No, his brain tells him. There’s no way.

But Virgil keeps an eye out for the next week anyways.

On Monday, Logan’s uncles give him a ride to school and also drive him by the café, so Logan hands over a chai for Virgil. Virgil smiles and thanks him.

Have Logan’s ears always gone red whenever Virgil thanks him for bringing him tea?

On Tuesday, their fingers brush when Logan’s passing over a stack of notecards for Virgil to study for an upcoming exam during their study hall. Simultaneously, they look away from each other, redirecting their attention to their textbooks.

Have they always done that?

On Wednesday, Logan and Virgil swing by Mr. Morales’ classroom. After Virgil laughs at a somewhat sarcastic comment that Logan says, and redirects his attention to the sketch he’s been doing to turn in for approval for his end-of-semester art project, he peeks through his bangs to see Mr. Morales waving his hands eagerly, and Logan go red and gesture sharply for him to stop.

Has Mr. Morales always been so excited whenever he and Logan spend time in his classroom?

On Thursday, Logan seems chilled by the overenthusiastic air conditioning, so Virgil gives him a spare hoodie he had in his locker. Logan looks at him, looks away, and then proceeds to huddle in Virgil’s hoodie for the rest of the day, even after the school adjusts the temperature and it isn’t quite so cold.

By then, his brain saying no way! No way, you cannot afford to be wrong on this so you aren’t even going to try, there’s no way—

It’s after school on Thursday, and Virgil makes sure Logan has already gone home when he descends the stairs to Mr. Regnant’s art-and-music studio.

“Oh, Virgil, hey,” Mr. Regnant says, distracted, looking up from the sheet music he’s laying out across four desks. “Gimme a second, I’ve got the feedback for your sketch on my desk somewhere—”

Virgil looks to Mr. Regnant’s desk. He can’t even see the mug of pens on his desk that Virgil knows is there, it’s so buried in papers and models and paint palette piles. It’s like an avalanche waiting to happen.

“Uh, that’s not—you can give it to me tomorrow,” Virgil says awkwardly. “Um. That’s not why I’m here.”

Mr. Regnant blinks at him. “All right.”

“I,” he wipes his hands on his jeans and grimaces, not quite believing that he’s about to do this. “I need advice.”

Mr. Regnant pauses, before he manages to find an empty desk and sets down the sheet music. “Okay.”

“Before I say anything,” he says. “I need you to give me this advice as Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Regnant says. “Yeah, ‘course, Virgil. I’m always—”

“Mr. Regnant, faculty supervisor of the GSA club, is a separate person from Mr. Regnant, Logan’s Uncle Roman,” Virgil interrupts, twisting his fingers together anxiously. “Right?”

Mr. Regnant opens his mouth. Closes it. He gestures for Virgil to sit on one of the choir risers, settling there himself, but Virgil sits on the floor. This is a time in which floor-sitting is necessary.

“He could be,” Mr. Regnant says eventually.

“Well I need him to be,” Virgil snaps. “Okay?”

Mr. Regnant presses his lips together and nods.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little higher pitched. His lips twitch and he clears his throat. “Yeah! Yeah.”

“Oh my God, you’re about to laugh at me,” Virgil says, horrified. “I knew this was a terrible idea, forget it—”

“No!” Mr. Regnant says hastily. “No I’m not, no I’m not. I swear I’m not. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is not about to laugh.”

“Is Mr. Regnant Logan’s uncle about to laugh?!”

“I thought they were different people,” Mr. Regnant sasses back, seemingly on instinct, and Virgil buries his face in his hands and screams a little bit. Just a little bit.

“Shi—shoot, I mean shoot!” He says, and tugs lightly at Virgil’s arm. Virgil peeks at Mr. Regnant from between his fingers.

Mr. Regnant’s face is very serious. There is no more sign of lip-twitching, throat-clearing, or mirth in his eyes.

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is here and listening,” he says. “Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any relatives to speak of. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA does not have any twin brothers or nephews. What on earth even are those? Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA would have no idea. Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA doesn’t even have parents, or a husband, that’s how absolutely relative-less he is. Okay?”

“Mr. Regnant the faculty supervisor of the GSA is an asshole,” Virgil mutters.

“Faculty supervisor of the GSA is starting to not sound like words anymore,” Mr. Regnant says, “also, you are so lucky school is technically over, otherwise I would have totally given you a detention for language.”

“You’re such a hypocrite, you literally just almost swore.”

“Almost,” Mr. Regnant says, “is not the same as did. Now. What can I do for you, Virgil?”

Virgil takes a deep breath in.

“What do you do if you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

Mr. Regnant’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, but otherwise, he doesn’t react.

“You could talk to him?”

“Okay, maybe I should be more specific,” Virgil says, “What do you do if you have an anxiety disorder, and you think the boy you have a crush on likes you back?”

“I know you’re not gonna like this,” Mr. Regnant says, “but my answer is still you could talk to him.” 

He holds up a hand before Virgil can protest. “I know it can be scary, I know it can be anxiety-inducing. I know that can be a deterrent for a perfectly neurotypical person, let alone someone who’s got a diagnosed anxiety disorder. But, I mean. Your only options, as I see them, are, A, tell him, or B, sit quietly and wait for him to maybe make the first move.”

“But how can I be sure?” He says.

“Well, why do you think he likes you back?” Mr. Regnant says reasonably.

So Virgil tells him. Virgil tells him all about it—thinking he was cute since they were kids, then suddenly becoming friends this year: the chai, the sketches, the music listening, the blushing and the awkward chats, and how they’re friends now but Virgil still really likes him in a romantic way.

“Does that sound like he likes me back?” he asks anxiously. 

Mr. Regnant bites his lip. “As the faculty supervisor of the GSA? I think it could definitely be likely.”

“Likely?” Virgil wails.

“Well, as the faculty supervisor of the GSA,” Mr. Regnant enunciates carefully, “I can’t be certain.”

“I can’t go and tell him based on if it’s just likely! I need to be sure he likes me back or else there’s a chance he says he doesn’t like me and then I’m going to have a heart attack and die!”

“Virgil! As the faculty supervisor of the GSA! I really think you should go for it!”

Mr. Regnant looks like he’s about to reach out and start shaking Virgil by the shoulders. His eyes are huge, the way he always looks at actors onstage who have forgotten their lines, like by just staring at them he’ll be able to psychically impart the script to them.

“Forget it,” Virgil groans and reaches for his backpack, swinging it over his shoulders and standing up. “I’m doomed to suffer in silence. Thanks, I guess, I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Please don’t tell anyone I told you all this.”

As Virgil is closing the classroom door behind him, he’s pretty sure he hears Mr. Regnant screeching.

Honestly, Virgil should be the one screeching. He can’t believe he just told him all that—who knows if Mr. Regnant will be able to keep the information of a crush concerning his nephew to himself?!

⁂

“Okay, here’s your mocha-with-extra-espresso, please don’t tell your Dads,” Uncle Patton says cheerfully, passing back a to-go cup to Logan. “And the chai! I think it’s very sweet that you keep getting this for him, kiddo.”

“Gestures are a good way to express affection,” Logan says anxiously, carefully setting the chai in a cupholder. “I’ve been trying to vary my approaches based off the five love languages. I’m not sure if it’s working.”

Uncle Roman in the passenger seat, his arm thrown over his eyes, makes a sound of great discontent, the way he’s been doing for the past week whenever Uncle Patton has tried to give him any advice concerning Virgil.

“Are you okay, Uncle Roman?” Logan asks again.

“Thinking about being the faculty supervisor to the GSA,” Uncle Roman moans, as if in pain.

“Is the club schedule about to be particularly busy?” Logan asks, frowning. “You typically enjoy your work with the GSA.”

“You could say that,” Uncle Roman says tightly, then groans again.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do personally, in order to relieve any undue stress,” Logan begins, but is cut off by Uncle Roman shrieking.

“Um,” Logan says, looking to Uncle Patton, who snorts, shaking his head.

“He just, um,” Uncle Patton says. “Well, I think something’s happened, except he told me he can’t tell me what it is without betraying someone’s trust, so.”

“I see,” Logan says, frowning, except for the part where he doesn’t see, really. But that happens fairly frequently with Papa and Dad. Honestly, it’s rather curious that Uncle Roman has not acted in a way that seems strange to outsiders. Dad does it all the time, and they’re twins.

Oh, well. He’s sure he’ll understand eventually.

“I’m fine,” Uncle Roman says, and he sniffs loudly. “I’m fine, it’s all—fine.”

Uncle Patton pats his hand sympathetically, before directing their car to school.

Logan sips his drink, before he says idly, “I think I’m going to tell him I’ve had a crush him today.”

Uncle Roman immediately spews coffee onto the windshield in an impressive spit-take. It is hilarious. Even though Uncle Roman is choking a little. 

Uncle Patton meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, his eyes bright with excitement. “Really?!”

“Really,” Logan confirms. “I mean, it’s been—it’s been a couple months. We are friendly enough. I do not think that Virgil will discard our friendship if I confess that I have had a crush on him since last year.”

“Well!” Uncle Patton says, so flustered that he accidentally turns on the windshield wipers when he means to signal a turn, and then when he tries to fix that he turns on his hazard lights, before he manages to get the car under control again. “Well, that’s great, kiddo! I’m so excited for you!”

“You are the smartest kid I know,” Uncle Roman says, turning in his seat to face Logan, his expression near-worshipful. “I love you.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“I know you don’t believe in psychics, but are you—?”

“Why are you bringing up psychics?” Logan says, perplexed. “I figured—well, I’ll tell him. And it is time that the Halloween festival will begin this weekend. That seems like a date that Virgil would enjoy.”

“Right,” Uncle Roman says. “Okay. Well—go for it! Please go for it!”

“I have already told you I will,” he says. 

“I think it’s gonna go great if you go for it!”

Strange. Uncle Roman is acting as if he has had too much caffeine. As far as Logan is aware, the beverage they have just stopped to get is his first coffee of the day, and he does not metabolize the effects of coffee that quickly.

“Right,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of his coffee. Then, “Right.”

Then, “What if he says he doesn’t like me back?”

Uncle Roman throws his arm across his eyes and makes that same groaning sound again.

Uncle Patton absentmindedly reaches over and bracingly rubs Uncle Roman’s thigh, again meeting Logan’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Well, kiddo, if he says he doesn’t like you back,” he says, then frowns. “It’s understandable to be disappointed, or a little bit upset, but it’s important to accept his answer graciously and kindly. No means no. No is a full sentence. But Virgil seems like a very nice boy, I can’t imagine he’ll be very mean about it at all, and you two have gotten close over the past few months. It might be kind of awkward for a bit, but with a little work, your friendship will be able to survive it.”

“I suppose,” Logan says quietly, looking down at his lap.

“But,” Uncle Patton adds hastily, “I think the chances are really good for him saying yes to the date! We both do, don’t we, Roman?”

Uncle Roman lets out a very strangled “mm-hmm.”

Logan chews his lip, before he says timidly, “Can I borrow one of your phones to call my Dads?”

“Cupholder, just a bit in front of ya,” Patton says cheerfully. “You already know the password.”

Logan does. He swipes it in—his uncles’ wedding date—and presses on Papa’s contact number. Dad’s phone is lost more often than not, and almost always turns up in strange places, like inside the gateau he’d tried to make, or inside the neighbor’s rain gutters.

His father picks it up almost immediately.

“Patton, if this is about the adopt-a-thon, if I have told you once I have told you a thousand times—”

“Um, hi, Papa,” Logan says awkwardly; he does not want to get into the family squabble about sharing a pet between their households again. Eve is a sufficient pet, even if she’s not as cuddly as Uncle Patton might like.

His father’s voice transforms from chiding to concerned in a second. “Logan, is everything all right?”

“Yes, everyone is operating under adequate parameters,” Logan says. “Is Dad there?”

There’s the sound of something crashing in the background, as if on cue. Knowing Dad, it might have been.

“I’ll get him,” Papa says wearily.

He hears his Papa say Remus, our son is on the phone, please put down the—Uh, Jan, sexy-pie! I thought you were! On the way to work!—what the—REMUS, we’ve TALKED about this, how did you lay hands on a HERON—and then the conversation gets a good deal more muffled. He is pretty sure that Papa is shouting at Dad about capturing local wildlife again.

He waits patiently, before he hears the clatter of the phone being passed into someone’s hands, and Dad asks, “Did someone die?! Do you need help covering up a murder?!”

“Remus, please,” Papa groans, “the boy is too smart to implicate himself by opening the opportunity to be recorded over the phone lines.”

“That’s right, Logie-bear, the government is always watching,” Dad says solemnly. “Big brother, all hail. Also lean over and give my little brother a wet-willie for me, it’d be so funny—”

Logan, accustomed to conversations of this tone since birth, continues stolidly onward. “I’m going to tell Virgil I like him today.”

“Finally!” Dad hoots.

“That’s excellent, Logan,” Papa says placidly. “Please know that I am fully aware of the misogynistic roots of the what are your intentions discussion, and I’ve been doing research in order to make our version as feminist as possible. Also, your father has been warned to discuss minimal amounts of gore when he comes to our home.”

“What is the point of a shovel talk then!”

“We already agreed no shovel talk,” Papa says irritably. “When we threaten the boy, we’ll do it subtly.”

“Please don’t threaten him,” Logan says anxiously. “I don’t even know if he likes me back yet.”

“Of course he likes you back!” Dad says, outraged on his behalf. “Why the hell wouldn’t he like you back?!”

“How did you two know that you loved each other?” Logan asks. The question feels slightly childish, and he feels even more so when he curls up in his car seat, but he cannot deny the posture brings a certain level of comfort.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Papa says.

“I’m sixteen in a matter of weeks!”

Dad makes an absurd gagging noise, because he is ridiculously averse to the concept of Logan (and therefore, himself and Papa) aging. Logan thinks that it might have to do with a latent existential crisis, but he has not asked, because knowing Dad, he will spin it out into thirteen separate absurd reasons, and ten of them will make Logan cringe away, repulsed.

��Trust my judgment on this,” Papa says. “You do not want to know the origins of how our romance developed. However, when we actually had the discussion concerning feelings, your father—”

“I wrote him a beautiful letter in my best calligraphy,” Dad says proudly, then, “You probably don’t want to hear about the ink, do you?”

“Is it disgusting?” Logan asks warily.

“Quite, but,” then, in a voice that literally every other person wouldn’t realize is Papa’s version of profound sappiness, “that’s your father.” 

There is the sound of kissing. Logan resists the urge to make a gagging noise of his own, because somehow, he is the mature one in the entire family.

“As it is, just,” Papa says, then sighs. “I cannot believe I am about to give such... Pattonish advice. But. As it is, just be yourself. If this boy likes you back—”

“—as he should, and if he doesn’t he’s in desperate need of a lobotomy,” Dad mutters.

“—then he will like you for you, just the way you are,” Papa says, as if Dad had not said anything remotely worrying. “Tap into your strengths, Logan. You are intelligent, and observant, and thoughtful—”

“—and the best son there is—”

“Well, that goes without saying, clearly,” Papa says. “As long as your confession comes from you, then there is no way that it can go wrong. You are simply too excellent a person for it not to.”

“Even if it turns out he doesn’t like me?” Logan says timidly.

“If it does, then have your uncle forge an excuse note for you to get out of school early today and we’ll plot accordingly,” Papa says evasively. “But I do not think that outcome likely.”

Logan chews his lip. Papa is the best liar he knows, but—

But hearing his encouragement is too comforting to really analyze if he is lying.

“Thanks, Dads.”

“Knock him dead, kid!” Dad shouts. “And if he doesn’t then I will!”

“What did we just say about discussing potential evidence over the phone lines,” Papa scolds, and Logan hangs up, smiling.

Just be yourself.

Uncle Pattonish advice it may be, it has given him an idea.

⁂

Waiting over this past week to see if Mr. Regnant will crack and spill to Mr. Morales, or even worse, Logan himself, has been absolutely agonizing and Virgil’s kicking himself over going to Mr. Regnant for advice surrounding Logan at all.

That morning, though, Mr. Morales is at his desk, and a chai is waiting for Virgil at their usual spot, but Logan is nowhere to be seen. Virgil tries his hardest not to act too much like he’s keeping an eye out for Logan, but he is pretty sure he’s not succeeding, because Mr. Morales is smiling at him way too wide.

He actually seems really excited about something. Like, Mr. Morales usually gets excited when it’s fresh chocolate chip cookie day at lunch, but this is beyond the pale for fresh chocolate chip cookie day. Maybe the assembly they have today is something special? Except Virgil’s pretty sure it’s to pass out honors for the last quarter and talk about fall sports. That’s nothing particularly special.

Logan slides into his seat just before the bell rings, though, wrapping a rubber band around one of his notecard stacks. It’s a thin stack, it must be for something that’s just started; usually Logan compiles every unit of every class into thick stacks, able to be differentiated by the different colors of the notecards. These are just basic white ones.

He fiddles with it, darting looks to Virgil as Patton takes attendance, and, as they’re all filing out of the door, Logan holds out the stack of notecards.

“Here,” he blurts out.

Virgil blinks. “I don’t think we have a test soon?”

“They’re not for a test,” Logan says. “Just—take them. Read them during assembly. Please,” he adds belatedly.

“Uh,” Virgil says and takes them. “Okay?”

“Okay!” Logan says and nods. “Okay. Okay. Great! Um—please take your time to consider them carefully, and I await your response,” and then he practically runs off to fall into line near Mr. Regnant.

So that’s... weird.

But Virgil sticks the notecards into his hoodie pocket, anyways, ready to read them during assembly like Logan directed.

He waits until the principal is droning on about the importance of school spirit to take the notecards out of his pocket.

He spares a glance for Logan—who is several rows ahead, near the faculty, sitting next to Mr. Morales and Mr. Regnant, Mr. Morales occasionally reaching over to rub Logan’s shoulder bracingly—and then angles the notecards so that a teacher looking into the crowd wouldn’t really be able to see them.

He stares at the title on the top notecard. Blinks hard. Blinks again. Looks down at Logan’s back, then back to the notecard.

Reasons why I have a crush on Virgil.

He reaches over to pinch himself. Nope. Not dreaming, then.

And Logan really doesn’t seem like the type of person to make a joke like this.

He flips the cards and reads them slowly, savoring each and every word written in Logan’s blocky, neat script.

He is exceptionally witty.

He is knowledgeable about a great many things, such as music, art, spiders, novels, and mental health issues.

He is sarcastic.

He is thoughtful and deliberate in the formation of his opinions, even ones as small as the proper preparation of chai.

He is very handsome.

He is never rude without reason, and when he is rude, it is usually because the other person is “an asshole” and should be receiving backlash.

He is a remarkably talented artist.

Virgil keeps reading on, he is, he is, he is...

When he gets to the end—I would like to take you on a date. I would also like to be boyfriends, though I understand if you would like to table that conversation until we have established a rapport. Please let me know if you would be amenable to that suggestion.—he feels kind of dizzy. His throat is tight, his heart is pounding, and his hands are so sweaty he’s had to wipe them off on his jeans twice already.

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would think of him so highly? 

It’s like he’s describing someone entirely different—awkward, anxious Virgil couldn’t possibly be the snarky, witty, caring, deep-thinking guy that Logan’s writing about. There’s just no way. But, Virgil thinks, heart twisting, but Logan doesn’t lie about things like this. Is this the way Logan sees him?

Is it really possible that someone as wonderful as Logan would have a crush on him at all?

He likes Virgil. He wants to take Virgil on a date. He wants Virgil to be his boyfriend.

There’s the rumbling of everyone standing up from the bleachers, and Virgil jumps—has it really been the entire assembly?—and hastily gets to his feet, so he won’t get swept up in the crowd of students returning to their classrooms.

As he’s heading for the door, Logan practically materializes in front of him, hugging his books tightly to his chest.

“Did you read them?” He asks fretfully. Now that Virgil’s close to him, face-to-face, he isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Logan so nervous. He isn’t sure if he’s seen Logan nervous at all. Logan’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, drumming his fingers on his books, holding the books like they’re a teddy bear.

“Do you,” Virgil says, his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “You really like me?”

“Since last year,” Logan admits.

“I’ve liked you since kindergarten,” Virgil blurts out.

Logan blinks at him, jaw dropping. Then he says, “Really?!”

“Really,” Virgil promises. “My mom has this journal entry saved where I kept writing about how I was going to be Mr. Virgil Sanders, oh my God, she’s going to be so embarrassing about this—”

Logan snorts, ducking his head. “You’ve withstood my uncles handily.”

“Your uncles are cool, though,” Virgil says, confused.

“My uncles are embarrassing,” Logan says, “and my Dads are going to be so weird, I’m very sorry in advance, but—but if you can handle all of that, then I’d—I’d really like to take you out to the Halloween festival. I’d really really like that.”

Virgil’s smiling so wide that it hurts his face. “I’d really really like that too.”

And then the bell rings, and the pair of them jump at the sudden loud noise.

“I—we have to go to class,” Logan says, sounding very put out.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, then, “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Logan beams at him. “Lunch sounds wonderful.”

Virgil hesitates, before he reaches out and places a hand on Logan’s shoulder. He leans in and presses his lips to Logan’s cheek.

Logan’s bright red when he pulls away.

“Lunch?” Virgil confirms.

“Lunch,” Logan squeaks out, his voice cracking.

They emerge from under the bleachers, and have to split ways. Even when Mr. Regnant pulls him out into the hall under the guise of talking about his project and starts whisper-shouting about “do you know how HARD IT WAS to keep QUIET when i KNEW all along that you both LIKED each other bacK,” even when Mr. Morales ducks his head into his math class to pass over papers and gives Virgil some super-obvious thumbs up, even after he texts his Mom and his mom sends him screenfuls of exclamation points and immediately asks him to invite Logan over so that she can show Logan all of Virgil’s baby pictures—

Virgil cannot stop smiling.

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 1 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom’s a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. [7.7k]

________________________________________________________

There was such a style to everything Tom wrote, everything he directed. A sincere passion that you suspected was always meant to be used elsewhere. You wondered if his craftsmanship was ever appreciated, on the other side of the screen, as strangers got hot and bothered watching each meticulously designed frame of his vision come to life.

Sure, it was porn. But Tom directed it like he could win an Oscar for ‘hot lifeguard pounded poolside’. This was his livelihood, his passion, and it was a damn shame he wasn’t award-season eligible.

The names would make you wince, as you saw them uploaded to the site, thumbnails and previews drawing in viewers by the million with their shots of heaving bodies and glistening sweat. Tom never called the videos such crass things. Not in his scripts. You would get copies titled ‘Romantic Night In’ or ‘Office Love Affair.’ He was a fan of sugar-coating what would be inside those innocuous white pages, a veneer of respectability which Tom insisted upon, regardless of how obvious the true nature of the videos was. But once the videos were sold, it was out of his hands. Your face contorted mid-faux-orgasm would be plastered across the site, and everyone involved would try and forget what happened.

Ignore the comments.

Keep moving.

You often wondered how Tom wound up in this place, with his sharply tailored suits and polished shoes, eloquent and educated, his words almost poetic as he directed mid-budget porn in hotel rooms and his studio day-in, day-out.

Then again, he never seemed particularly bothered by it. He gave each shoot his full attention, his full boundless enthusiasm and all the professionalism he could muster. You wondered how he balanced it, sometimes, the creative drive to press on with trying to be creative and shoehorn romance into films knowing that, ultimately, it was porn.

He had interviewed you like a real director might, talking about your life and experience and ambitions, almost apologetic when he had finally choked out ‘could you undress’, barely glancing at your naked form before he hired you as his first employee.

You asked him early on, while watching him try and assemble a fake restaurant-date set in the studio, complete with faux windows and an extra playing a waiter, why he bothered when three-minutes of good quality fucking footage would make him the same amount of money. He’d given you a strange smile, the wrinkles beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes, and shrugged.

“I make what I’d like to see.”

The words haunted you later, as your rather attractive co-star bent you over the white-cloth covered dining table and you allowed mewls and groans to escape your mouth without a second thought. Trying to avoid the muted blue of Tom’s eyes behind the cameraman.

Despite your reservations when you first started to work for him, Tom had won you over. His gentler, more romantic approach to pornography had a loyal following. Both of your pseudonyms garnered huge numbers of views across various platforms, and Tom was keen to cultivate a collection of female-friendly porn. Against all the odds, it was working.

And you loved working with him. He was a great director, and inspired writer, and a genuinely brilliant boss. He made sure you saw royalties, good pay, that everyone you worked with was screened and tested, always keeping you safe. Always.

Each time he called a wrap, passing you a robe and offering a meek congratulations on your performance, you found yourself more and more pleased you had wound up working with him.

“You really do have a talent,” he’d told you one day, distracting you as you discussed a new script in his office.

You were sat opposite him, Tom’s glasses perched on his head as he watched you read, your feet resting against the leg of his desk. You’d come in to your shared workspace to try some costumes out, to discuss new scenes, still recovering from a thoroughly exhausting shoot the day before. There were still light bruises around your wrists, and you caught Tom glancing at them worriedly each time your long-sleeved shirt slipped.

“I love that you’re such an actor,” he continued, hands tapping the desk as he spoke, “like, a real actor.”

Your eyes drifted across the script, scanning it with your bottom lip between your teeth. He always appreciated your input, wanting the ‘female fantasy’ in a lot of his work, and he’d timidly shown you some ‘student-professor’ script he’d been working on. He was like that, embarrassed in a way which you wouldn’t expect from a man with his considerable experience in adult entertainment. He was assertive, certain, even stern where it counted. But with just the two of you together, dancing around what was sexy and what wasn’t, he seemed desperate to avoid saying anything you might perceive as too ‘crude’.

“What do you mean?” you’d chuckled, still flicking through the first draft.

He only entrusted you with such early versions of his work – but that made sense. Your careers were symbiotic, tied to one another with an unspoken pact. He directed everything you were in, and you were in everything he directed.

It made sense.

“You don’t just… I don’t know. You never make my scripts seem silly. Or cheesy. You… you really try and make them feel real. I could write anything, and you’ll deliver the lines well. I was overseeing auditions earlier and... I just kept thinking none of them were you. I think you might be the best in the business.”

You rolled your eyes, offering him a disbelieving smirk, and he scoffed.

“I’m serious! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The weight of his words settled heavy in your chest, and you turned back to the script, frowning as you flicked through the loose-leaf pages. Tom fidgeted behind his desk, unhappy with losing your attention, but you ignored him.

“Here. If you want the fantasy to be believable, I think he needs to lock the office door. Make a show of it, you know. Cover my mouth,” you comment dismissively. Tom already has as pen in his hand, making notes. “It could be hot, maybe ‘Don’t make a sound or you can’t cum’, something like that. As if there’s other students in the corridor outside.”

Nodding, Tom dutifully wrote down your words, mouth slightly open in realisation as he listened.

“Don’t make a sound…” Tom repeated, and you felt yourself blush.

“Not… not that exactly,” you backtracked, “you’re the real writer! I just think, there needs to be some build up. A remind of the power dynamic. Him going straight to oral is a bit… fast. That could happen in any old plot, you know?”

You felt his eyes on you, looking up from the paper to spot Tom leaning back in his chair, a distant smile on his face.

“You really are the best,” he praised, “that’s great. I’ll do rewrites tonight.”

For a moment, you let his words hang heavy in the air. Then you blinked back at him, a slight frown pinching your forehead at his strange mood. He was calm, for once. Tom was usually a ball of enthusiasm, and you wondered if your dismissal of his words earlier had done something to hamper his spirit.

“It’s always easier to critique,” you dismissed, “I love the script, it’s great. I really think it’ll be good. Hot. Maybe I can wear a Britneyschool girl costume, or something?”

He frowned a little, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought.

“No, weird. We’re going for University student, just… a nice pair of jeans or something.”

“Don’t they wear suits where you went, posh boy?” you teased, loving how it riled him up. “I’ll try and dress like a smart person.”

“You are smart, don’t give me that.”

You rolled your eyes, loving how you managed to fluster him, putting the script back on his cluttered desk as you reached for your bag. This was how your meetings always went, a few hours of notes, some teasing, and a hasty retreat once Tom told you the next shoot day you had to attend. You still had a few hours of social media to do for the last video you’d shot together, notes from Tom, and you lamented the sight of the sun setting outside of your shared office. You’d hoped for at least a bit of natural light today.

“I’m serious, you are!” Tom asserted, and you ignored him purposely as you shut down your laptop, preparing to take it home.

“Yeah, I know, whatever. Don’t work too late!”

“Rich coming from you,” he sighed, “it really doesn’t matter if we send that last edit late.”

“It matters to me! I’d quite like to get paid this week, you know?”

Tom sighed. The two of you tried to produce a couple of videos a week – one for Tom’s site and another to sell to a third party. It didn’t leave either of you with much free time, both of you left in the tiny office at all hours as you worked to keep up with demand.

“Very true. But I’d rather you got some sleep, you know I can help if you’re short on money,” he offered, shuffling papers on his own desk.

He was always quick to jump to an offer to help, and you tried to ignore the fondness spreading through your chest at his eagerness to look out for you. That gentle protectiveness which coursed through Tom was enough to make you melt.

He was one in a million, that was for sure.

“I’m fine, Tom. Thank you though, I’ll ask, if, y’know –”

“Do! Any time. Actually…”

Tom cut himself off, typing something into his phone, and your pocket buzzed with a notification.

“Get yourself a nice dinner.”

You checked your phone to see a transfer from Tom. It wasn’t a crazy amount, but too much for just dinner, and you huffed performatively as he grinned at you.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous –”

He barely made more than you, and you were certainly doing perfectly comfortably.

“Royalties are really good this month. That old break-up sex video is trending again, apparently.”

You smothered a smile. It was hate-fucking, as you’d told Tom a hundred times. That was the title. You could still remember the look on his face the day you’d filmed it, his twitchiness, the unknown male actor who had slightly scared both of you with his sheer size as he stepped into the studio. The male star had fucked you like you’d broken his heart, hands on your neck and hips bruising yours as he pounded into you, and you’d be a little alarmed at how little you had needed to act in his domineering presence. He’d been muscular and tall and assertive, almost injuring you with his enthusiasm, and the shoot had ended with you a sweaty mess, struggling to walk, eyes watery.

You had ached from the moment Tom helped you up from the bed, a protective body between you and your costar as you watched the man collect his clothes and his paycheck. The footage had been great, you’d watched Tom edit it, but it had been your first taste of Tom’s protectiveness. The actor had never returned, and Tom had bought a hot water bottle for the office, pressing it into your lap as he brought tea for the pair of you, loathing how you winced as you moved.

He’d taken you out for dinner that night to celebrate a good edit, but you knew the real reason. That neither of you wanted the other to be alone. It had been a lovely evening, a restaurant then a bar, without a break in laughing conversation the entire night. It hadn’t been a date, but if it had been a date, it would’ve been the nicest date you’d ever been on. In those moments, you wondered if Tom was really cut out for the industry. If you were.

As much as Tom hated the film, it was hot. It had propelled your studio into the spotlight, and it paid a significant chunk of your rent.

“Thank you,” you smiled to him, wracking your mind for anything else that needed discussing before you headed home.

Maybe you’d get takeaway. That would be nice.

Tom cleared his throat.

“What are we shooting tomorrow, by the way?”

You looked up at his words, frowning a little at the realisation you hadn’t been given a script yet. It was unlike him, to be so unprepared. Usually everything was organised weeks in advance. With a glance at the shadows under his eyes, you decided not to tease him about it.

“We’re shooting tomorrow?”

“This week… we’ve only got one video. I was just thinking something simple, I haven’t called a costar yet, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to –”

It was your paycheck on the line as much as Tom’s, and you wondered how the hell you’d forgotten.

“Do we have a camera crew?” you frowned.

“No, not yet. I can call though. Or I could just do it myself, if we’re not doing anything too complicated?”

You thought for a moment, leaning against the open doorframe as Tom started to pack up his own desk, nimble fingers tapping across his keyboard.

“Solo?” you suggested, stifling a laugh as Tom blinked and tilted his head to face you.

“I missed that, love?”

“Solo. Like ‘hot female solo’ or something?”

He smiled slightly, closing his laptop lid.

“That’ll do well, I’m sure. Do we need anything costume-wise? Props?”

Toys. He meant toys. You smiled at his refusal to call a spade a damn spade.

“I’m sure we can find everything here. It’ll be nice to do a simple shoot for a change,” you enthused, holding the door for Tom as he moved to turn off the lights, lingering nearby as he locked up the office.

“Yeah. Single-shot, no camera-man either.”

“Cheap,” you sighed, as though it was the sexiest thing in the world.

You did the books, and avoiding having any more costs this month sounded great.

“Yeah,” Tom smiled, falling into step beside you as the two of you left the warehouse studio.

He looked ready to say something else, but changed his mind. For a second the two you stood by the exit, words trapped beneath your closed lips as the early evening air enveloped you.

“Do you need a lift home?” Tom finally offered.

“No. No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. Usual time. Twelve?”

“Perfect.”

He reached an arm out, ready for you to walk into his embrace, and you froze. The moment was over as soon as it started, his arm retracted, and you could only stare. His hand found the curls at the back of his head, scratching there, a blush dusting his cheeks in the harsh fluorescent lights of the car park. You could kick yourself as you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clench of his jaw. He felt awkward. You contemplated hugging him, but the moment had passed. Instead you rocked on your heels for a second, before turning to leave.

“Bye, Tom!”

“‘Night! Look after yourself, don’t forget dinner. I’ll see you – ”

He cut himself off as you walked too far away, and you could have kicked yourself for the sadness in his final syllable. You sighed as your feet fell against the pavement, your whole walk home haunted by the awkward shuffle of Tom’s hands as he went to hug you goodbye.

*

You were surprised by how difficult it was to brush off that awkward memory. As you ordered and ate dinner, you were reminded of Tom with every bite, that he’d snuck aside part of the company’s petty cash budget to give you dinner. That both of you had gone home, separately, to separate empty houses and empty beds.

Had he wanted to go for drinks? Wanted company? You had come to accept a long time ago that the man was your closest friend. He would be the person you called in an emergency, a shoulder to cry on. You liked to think he’d lean on you the same way.

Despite that, you spent limited time together outside of a professional context. You never met up on weekends, or casually called. Of course you didn’t. He made a career out of seeing you naked, watching you fake orgasms for other men. As you readied yourself for the day, you reminded yourself that of course, he would be nice to his only full-time, very lucrative actress. To his business partner.

As you’d queued up the company’s social media posts the night before, you could only think of Tom behind the camera, orchestrating each photo and clip you uploaded.

You couldn’t help the grin which split your face as you walked into the studio, bag flung over your shoulder, overpacked with everything you thought you could possibly need. Tom greeted you, emerging from his office with a smile.

Before you could overthink it, you walked into his arms, giving him very little choice in the matter as you greeted him with a hug. In his surprise you felt his body stiffen, his arms slowly wrapping around you, and you were momentarily gobsmacked by the muscular form he seemed to hide behind those suits.

He was a little more dressed down today, smart black jeans and a button-up white shirt, unruly hair sticking up like it did when he forgot to brush it. He looked better than yesterday, like he’d had a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning,” he chuckled, bemusement clear in his voice.

You pulled back from the hug, a little embarrassed at the affection until you saw the smile stretching across his face, reaching his eyes. Suddenly the previous night, worrying you had inadvertently rejected him, seemed to be erased.

“Morning! What have you got for me?”

The studio space was cleaned, but empty. The camera stood in the corner as Tom lead you further into the room, his office door open to the side of it, and you frowned at the emptiness of the space.

There were tape marks on the floor where sets were usually assembled, conspicuous without the usual hive of activity buzzing around some piece of furniture you would be thrown onto or fucked against. There was nothing.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Tom was saying, his gentle voice booming in the empty space, “we don’t have a script or anything so… I’ll leave it to you.”

You bit your lip.

It was more freedom than you were used to, less direction, less to build the fantasy where you could forget you were ultimately in a warehouse with just your business partner. It was… nothing. Tom said your name quietly, and you nodded, stepping back to assess the space.

“I’m just thinking,” you reassured him.

Had the studio always been this quiet? You tried to remember a shoot day where it had been this silent, this calm, without the stress of lighting people or cameramen or scripts being thrown around. You could hear every step Tom took as he walked towards the camera, the wheel-mounted tripod creaking as he moved it across the floor, checking batteries and SD cards while you stood in place, your bag still hanging from one shoulder.

Noticing your frozen stance Tom frowned across at you, nothing but gentle concern in his blue eyes and the fine lines around them.

“I was thinking something kind of minimal, maybe cosy?” he offered, “Maybe an armchair? Something like that?”

You thought about it for a moment, crossing to the corner of the room to finally set down your bag.

He was finally getting into ‘director mode’, growing more energetic by the second.

“I’m thinking we just frame it on you, no distraction. Single take, if we can.”

You nodded silently as he crossed to the storage cupboard he’s overeagerly labelled a ‘props department’. It was stacked high with fabric and furniture and lingerie, tubs of various exotic sex toys near the door. Tom stepped straight past them.

There was a mattress in the props room, materials to build a bed, and you pondered on the idea for a moment.

“We could keep it really simple, maybe?” you suggested, “Find a warm background. Or just use white. Try and get one twenty minute shot, or something.”

You reached for lube without thought, collecting the near-empty bottle of body oil beside it too, as you perused the options in front of you.

“Remind me to buy more of that,” Tom mused, sparing a glance to the bottles in your arms before standing beside you to peruse the options.

You nodded silently, your free hand rifling through bagged silicone toys, slightly in a daze as you picked out a few options. There was a slight blush dusted across Tom’s high cheekbones as he turned to see your arms full of dildos. You smiled as it took him a second to find words, and wondered how the hell he’d chosen to start a porn studio in the first place.

“Colour co-ordinated,” he commented, and you smiled, picking out yet another pink toy from the pile.

“Naturally,” you smiled, “I think that’s everything? Could we drag a mattress and pillows out?”

He nodded silently, already moving to manoeuvre the double mattress leaning against a wall in the props room. You rolled your eyes before helping, knowing he was being a gentleman, or whatever he called it. You called it putting his back out.

He rejected your help, so you grabbed as many pillows as you could, following him back into the main studio, privately smiling at the dramatic grunts he made trying to move the mattress. He tossed it to the ground with a grunt, shoving it into the corner of the room, before pausing again.

You dropped everything down on to it, toys, lube, pillows and all.

And then both of you waited.

It was so strangely intimate, just the two of you in the room, the strange nature of your relationship weighing heavy after last night’s miscommunication. Suddenly there was nothing you wanted to do less than take your clothes off.

“White sheets?”

“Hm?” you hadn’t processed what Tom said, too wrapped up in your own world, frowning down at the bare mattress.

“I was thinking white sheets.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

He was off, assigned another task, and you almost envied his distraction as you slowly sorted the pillows how you wanted, gathered the toys absentmindedly. Before Tom came back from the props closet you made yourself scarce, catching sight of his slim outline through the doorway. Facing away from you as he rummaged.

In the single bathroom of the studio you cleaned anything that would be going inside of you, avoiding your reflection, trying to shake off the odd nervousness coursing through your veins.

Why? It had been years since you felt this way before a shoot. Before you’d met Tom, even. Sure, shoots could be exciting, exhilarating, intimidating, but this self-consciousness, this self-doubt… it had come from nowhere.

You pressed your forehead to the mirror, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. The tap running sounded like a waterfall, the silicone under your fingers felt alien, the air almost claustrophobic as you wondered what the hell was wrong with you.

Tom was done making the bed when you got back, frowning at his phone until he heard you re-enter the studio space, quick to look up and see if you were happy with his set. You felt hyper-aware of him, of every movement he made, a clean towel and toys cradled in one arm as you took in the space. It was a simple premise, just a clean fitted sheet pillows in a corner, a clear space for you in the middle. You knew it would look good on screen. You knew this was an easy job.

You felt sick to your stomach.

“Do you want to face the camera? Or kind of, not acknowledge it?” Tom asked, speaking again as you forgot to reply, too caught up in your own mind. “Maybe if you ignore it that’s more… voyeuristic?”

“Sounds good,” you responded, kneeling to prepare your space. This was autopilot, your day job. You could do this.

“Right.”

He sounded a little put out by your response, but moved the camera anyway, switching to a knee-height tripod. You stood, stepped back to give him space, and frowning at the sudden headrush. You blinked, catching yourself staring at the flex of his arms as he moved the heavy equipment. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring into space until Tom called your name a second time, crossing into your personal space.

“Are you okay?”

Tom’s voice was so soft you wanted to cry, fingers hovering beside your bicep, his gentle eyes demanding for you to meet them, daring for you to lie while his face is so close to yours.

Somehow, the guilt of his worry made you feel worse.

“No, I’m…I’m being stupid. Sorry, just tired.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

“No, I, uh, I slept fine. I’m not sure. Just not really feeling it.”

His face fell, but you knew he wasn’t disappointed in you. He thought he’d done something wrong. Immediately you were talking, doing anything you could to soften his guilt.

“It’s my job, though. I can do it. This is great Tom, I think it’ll be a good shoot.”

“Sweetheart –”

You sighed, eyes falling to the mattress, before forcing a smile.

“Let’s get this over with!”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but you forced yourself to move, pulled your feet from the floor with far more effort than it ought to take. There was some comfort in rummaging through your own bag, that piece of home, something private from the studio. You found the vibrator you’d brought, a pink bullet you used almost exclusively at home, fully charged that morning. Behind you, Tom snorted in amusement.

“Nothing here is ever charged,” you shrugged off his stare, knowing damn well you didn’t have to explain yourself.

You wanted to explain anyway though. Just in case, Tom thought anything he did wasn’t enough. He seemed perfectly fine with the criticism, though you knew he was making a mental note. He always did, then you had something to say.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, you stripped to your underwear, folding your clothes neatly and being careful not to show any self-consciousness in your posture. You’d never been ashamed or embarrassed before now, and you weren’t about to start. Even if it was just you, and a very well, fully dressed Tom. Vibrator clutched in your fingers, you finally sat on the damn mattress.

He was the other side of the camera now, somehow both distant and a few feet away. You found yourself staring at your body in the monitor, just watching. Tom’s voice broke you out of yet another daze, and you wanted to pinch yourself. Why couldn’t you do it today?

“We don’t have to do this today, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay I just… I forget it’s just us sometimes, you know? There’s such a production and so many people and at the end of the day…”

Tom smiled, a relief on his face that told you he had been feeling it too. That this was weird.

“I know what you mean. If you’re uncomfortable…”

“Just give me a second to warm up, we need to make something, after all.”

You stretched, not really sure why, moving a little around the nook Tom had created, shuffling pillows and practicing where you wanted to lie back, watching a monitor as Tom played with a soft lighting, twisting and turning to find the most flattering angles you could.

As he shuffled things around, Tom nodded to the spread of toys you’d set out. You’d added your vibrator to the pink line up, perfectly organised on the white towel.

“Do you want those in shot?”

You shrugged.

“Might be hot?”

He nodded silently. You moved the toys in to the frame, trying to blink away the cloud which had settled in your mind. The world felt foggy, your arms like they were moving through treacle, and you knew Tom had noticed.

As he prepared two directional microphones, you tried not to feel claustrophobic. The audio from the microphone he was pointing towards your pussy would be almost grotesque, and you fought not to shuffle further from it as you imagined Tom listening later, headphones in, as he balanced the levels between your moans and the wet sounds of you fucking yourself.

Fuck.

Why was this so different to a regular shoot?

You’d done solo shoots before. With Tom. And half-a-dozen other crew, you reminded yourself.

You caught sight of his curls above the monitor, face serious as he set everything up.

“Speak?”

“Testing, testing,” you spouted off nonsense until he offered you a thumbs up, happy with the audio.

Then there was nothing else to do.

He stood, looming over the equipment. And you looming over you.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, smiling at your frown. “You’re in charge here, I’m just the camera guy.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was trying to put you at ease.

“You’re the director,” you reminded him, knowing how he preened himself under the title.

You were impressed that his eyes had only roamed down your body once as he took in the shoot, glancing at the indulgent layout of toys, double checking the monitor, one headphone in. He had that stance he always adopted when he was directing, and you knew it was his favourite moment in any of this. The moment everything was pinned on him.

It happened so quickly you almost missed the moment he knelt down, blinking in surprise as his face remerged at your level beside the camera.

“Then my direction is: enjoy yourself. Forget I’m here. Let’s show them something real.”

He must have seen your shock, because it made him smile.

“Real?” you questioned, and he nodded firmly.

“I’m serious.”

For a beat, both of you were silent, his eyes meeting yours over the body of the camera.

“If you can,” he offered, “I understand it’s not always…”

You interrupted him with a hand, smiling your understanding of what he was saying, and dismissing it in one motion. The silence dragged on, and you decided to push this forwards. If you were done by lunch, Tom would probably insist on taking you somewhere nice.

“I don’t know if I should use – ” you ghosted a finger across the biggest toy, worrying a bottom lip between your teeth, “Simplicity might be key.”

“Do what you want, darling. What feels good.”

You nodded mutely, and for just a second you saw doubt flicker across his face. This was new territory, and even you weren’t sure if this was a step too far.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. If I’m… actually… it might take a while. Let me know if I’m taking too long.”

“Take as long as you need, darling. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tilting your head at him a little, you realised abruptly just how intimate this was. Moreover, that you wanted it anyway. That you were about to make him watch you cum. Make him hear you, smell you. He couldn’t touch, but he could watch.

And that was enough for you to perform.

Tom gave you a countdown, red lights peppered your field of view, and he was recording. He had taken a seat on the floor behind the camera set up, one headphone in to monitor audio, waiting.

You stayed sat up, back arched a little as your hands began to caress you own body, keeping on eye on the monitor while your face was out of the shot. You rubbed along your thighs, across your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra and the elastic of your underwear each time you passed them, trailing your fingertips. It didn’t really feel like anything, doing this to yourself, but you knew to tease the camera. Tom would cut out anything too slow.

Your gaze remained firmly on the screen as you began to make your touches firmer, more deliberate, dragging lines into your skin and flirting with the camera. You admired the soft skin of your breasts as you started to shift your bra, enjoying the stiffening of your nipples in the monitor until –

The screen went black, and you immediately glanced at Tom, frowning as you lost the visual of yourself. He met your questioning gaze sternly, eyebrows furrowed, and you remembered his direction.

“Enjoy yourself.”

With nothing left to look at you closed your eyes, feeling the blood rushing to the surface of your skin, the sensitivity of your breasts as your fingers idly danced across them. You shoved your bra down unthinkingly, wanting to feel more, rubbing at the heaviness of your breasts and wincing as you enjoyed the pleasure and pain of pinching at your nipples, teasing them to attention. You glanced your nails across them, feeling it in your core. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Fuck the cameras.

It was hard to let to, to stop the delicious feeling of your fingers on your own breasts, but you forced yourself to free one hand, shoving off the bra, desperate to feel yourself without it. You knew you were grimacing, it wouldn’t be sexy, but you didn’t care. That was Tom’s problem.

You needed to touch yourself.

One hand reached below the waistband of your underwear, seeking out your clit, guided by a familiar ache. It was all you could focus on, your other hand forgotten, cupping your breast, the sensation vague and lost as your fingers found your clit. The sensation overwhelmed you as you shifted the hood, your body beginning to produce wetness. The room was a little cold, the air relieving against the heat of your bare skin, making your nipples peak as you leant back into the nest of pillows behind you.

You felt your stomach tense, a bolt of electricity tensing the muscles up and down your body as you brushed across your clit a little too hard. Your middle finger probed your pussy experimentally, slipping inside of you, quickly joined by a second as you played with the wetness there.

One, two, three pumps of your fingers inside you was enough for you to gasp, your eyes still closed against the bright lights as focused on nothing but feeling. No more fucking around.

You reached for your vibrator, hand knocking against the thick silicone toy lined up beside it, writhing as you pressed it against the fabric covering your clit. You cycled through the settings as fast as you could, still desperate for more stimulation.

More. It was on the highest setting. You wanted more.

Without moving the vibrator you shoved your underwear off, huffing as you kicked them away, not caring where they landed. The tip of the toy nudged against your clit exquisitely, and you froze.

There.

There.

You thought about Tom watching you. The hot blood coursing through your body, the line up of toys just waiting to be shoved inside of you. The sensitivity of you clit as you held it against that perfect point. The air against your dripping, aching pussy. The muscles starting to clench, the rhythm of your body. Building, building, you didn’t fight the feeling.

This was what you wanted.

That warm familiarity of the vibrator on your clit, the runaway train of your thoughts, it was enough to drive you over the edge. You hadn’t realised the keening, groaning noises you were making until you heard them, pleasure leaving your lips as an afterthought.

You felt empty.

Blindly you reached out, sticky fingers finding the shaft of a toy you wanted, a smaller one you could take right now. A dollop of lube in the palm of your hand was all it would take, a few pumps of the toy enough to coat it, the excess lubricant smeared on the sheets. You didn’t care. Not your problem.

Without conscious thought, you were still rubbing yourself, two fingers absently making circles against your clit as you fidgeted to be able to take the dildo. You didn’t bother preparing yourself anymore. You were wet enough, and you wanted the stretch.

Needed it.

Needed to feel full.

You shoved the toy into yourself, gritted teeth and your spare hand grasping at your breast, giving the nipple a sharp pinch to interrupt the overwhelming feeling of that silicone pushing inside of you. Your walls were stretched open, a gasp reaching your ears as you felt a nudge against your cervix.

It wasn’t enough. You felt wild, desperate, as you sloppily pulled the toy from yourself and shoved it back in, clenching down and still needing more.

Your fingers found a larger toy, arousal and lubricant smearing across your body as you discarded the dildo which you had just been fucking yourself with, leaving it somewhere on the mattress, forgotten in favour of the bigger option. It was thick. Maybe, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have considered it. But instead you coated it in lube, squirting the clear liquid on to the tip and rubbing it down the toy, focusing on nothing but the need pulsing through your pelvis.

On the emptiness inside you, begging, pleading to be filled. It hurt, how much you wanted to be stretched out, to feel something pounding into you. You felt animalistic, desperate for anything. The last of your conscious thought was occupied by the need in your clit, the demand for friction, and you just didn’t have enough hands. It was impossible to think. When you finally sank down on the fake cock, leaning back, legs apart, gaze focused on nothing but your own swollen pussy, it was a relief. You gasped, then sighed, pushing another inch of the toy inside you. You felt stretched already, split in half, but you kept going. With each thrust, you took the silicone further inside of you until you felt the dull ache of the toy going too far.

Finally, that emptiness felt sated, and you stayed still, too stuffed to risk moving and too blissed out to care.

But you needed more.

Each bear down made the toy threaten to shift, and you didn’t have the brain power to thrust and pay attention to your aching clit. You moved gingerly, grabbing a pillow to straddle, holding the toy inside you as you hunted for your vibrator.

You couldn’t even lean too far to reach it, you were so full it ached. And it was delicious.

With the smooth plastic finally in your hand you leant back, ready to bring yourself to another orgasm. With a blink, you realised there was a tear tracking its way down your cheek, and you smiled to yourself.

And then you accidentally looked forwards. Your eyes met Tom’s. The camera. The lights. The switched off monitor.

You wanted to cry.

He was watching you directly, with those sharp blue eyes, one finger resting along his jawline, his usual calculating, wide stance replaced with one knee hugged to his chest as he sat on the concrete floor. He was watching you.

You. Stuffed full, straddling a pillow on the bed Tom had fucking made, covered in a mix of lube and your own arousal. That strange feeling from earlier came back full force.

God. He had seen you actually come. Without acting or cheesy lines or clever angles to hide the worst of your O-face. You could pretend to come, tell your male co-stars what a good time you’d had, follow direction, anything. But this was too real. And it was just you and Tom. In the corner of a huge studio, bright lights and cameras and –

Had he called cut? You wouldn’t have heard. Did he realise you’d lost control? That you had forgotten you were supposed to be acting and been so desperate and –

“You’re doing amazing.”

You smiled at him weakly, gasping as the toy inside you nudged your cervix as you fidgeted. You didn’t realise that you were awaiting direction until he spoke.

“Another one?”

His voice was a little throatier than usual, though you supposed he’d been quiet for a while. His eyes kept drifting from your face, and you wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as you did.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes, listening to the increasing pitch of the vibrator as you turned it up to its maximum setting.

The minutes stretched on as your orgasm built, little raises and falls of your hips accompanying that insistent buzz of your favourite vibrator, the toy inside you starting to ache as it stretched you apart. It was impossible to forget that Tom was watching you now. That his piercing gaze was on you. As a matter of professionalism, you tried to avoid looking up. You ignored the camera, fucked your body in the way you knew it would respond to, only half-faking it as you came a second time.

You moaned and groaned and gave the camera an indulgent few seconds of overstimulation, the vibrator pushed against your clit to make you writhe and shake. You pulled yourself off the dildo in a mess of arousal, played with yourself, showing off how stretched out you were.

Fingers swirling in the arousal inside of you, you sighed in relief when Tom called, “cut.”

Dropping the toy, you pulled your legs together, ignoring him for a second as you took deep breaths. Taking stock of your body, the residual pleasure and pain and stickiness. A lot of stickiness.

Tom took pity on you, shifting a softbox so you had a clear path out of the corner you were hemmed into.

“Go and have a shower,” he told you, the most softly-spoken command you’d ever heard.

Nonetheless, you followed orders. On weak legs, you indulged in as long as shower as you dared, cleaning up and then just… waiting. Trying to avoid the real world. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in a robe, you found your clothes folded outside. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but you thanked the universe for him anyway.

When you re-emerged you were fully dressed and feeling a lot more like yourself again. And, actually, quite proud of yourself. Tom’s busyness told you everything had been recorded properly, equipment moved and the mattress bare, leant against the wall.

“All good?” you asked, more to announce your presence than anything. He stopped moving, offering you a gentle smile.

“Perfect! I think it’ll be great. Do you want to go get lunch somewhere? To celebrate?”

Predictable as anything. The thought made your heart swell with fondness for him, his head tilt and excitement, his strange place here.

“I think I’ll just go home,” you tried to smile apologetically, but you could still feel the ache inside you, the dull oversensitivity of your clit against your underwear.

The embarrassment and excitement fighting in the fit of your stomach.

Tom nodded, clear understanding on his face. He held the door for you on the way out.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” he asked, quietly, like you might run off if he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

*

Your bedroom fell silent as the vibrator stopped, the battery finally flat. You whined in disappointment, desperate for another orgasm. Your fingers replaced it instantly, rubbing, desperately pulling more wetness from the arousal weeping from you, but you were too oversensitive.

Panting, vision blurry, your thighs aching, you blinked away tears. You glanced at the nightstand. Tom hadn’t text you.

*

When you woke up the next morning your phone was dead. You’d forgotten to charge it last night, and leaving it in your room to charge offered a strangely peaceful morning. You had a few hours before you would be expected at the studio, and no work to do before then.

You indulged in spending time getting ready for the day, making a decent breakfast, doing a few chores you’d been putting off.

Processing what had happened yesterday.

In the clear light of day, you wondered if you ought to be embarrassed for the way you’d completely lost yourself at the shoot. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised at you’d just followed Tom’s direction. Done what he’d asked. It had been intense, for sure, but you’d done what he’d asked. If anything you regretted the moment he’d had to speak, losing your nerve. You hoped he didn’t want pick-up shots today, you weren’t sure your body could take any more.

You thought about the night before, clearing up the scattered clothes and charging the vibrator you’d left strewn beside your bed, more ashamed of the images which had been conjured by your overactive imagination in the late-night privacy of your bedroom. You hated that everything you imagined was involved blue eyes. Distinctive curls. Pulling buttons from smart shirts and kissing along sharp cheekbones. Poor Tom. He didn’t need you overstepping that mark. And yet when you had closed your eyes, imagined you were under those lights again, all you could imagine was Tom. His creative gaze. Listening to the smoothness his voice leant to everything he said as he instructed you even more intimately than usual.

As you switched your phone back on, you forced the thoughts from your mind. They couldn’t follow you to the studio. The two of you had built something good. Something successful. The studio was doing well, you were both saving money away for the future, building your brands. You couldn’t screw that up now by imagining him like that. He trusted you. You trusted each other. Relied on one another.

You wondered if he ever fucked other actresses.

[beth-yeet365]

“We’re not finished” - bws

Pairing: Bradley Simpson x reader

Summary: you’re Tristan’s cousin and you’re as close as brother and sister. When he says that he has an extra room in his flat that he shares with his bandmate, Brad, you decide to move in... What’s the worst that could happen?

Word count: 2.1k+ 

Warnings: some alcohol consumption, Brad being forward which ight cause ome awkward situations, like one or two curse words and mention of boner ;)

Disclaimer: I don’t know if any of this is true either way it’s an imagine so don’t expect anything that’s super true... also you play drums like Tris but that is because that’s the only instrument I can play lmao and you’re 2 years younger than Tris so that makes you 3 three years younger than Brad

It all started with a facetime call with your favourite and only cousin, the one and only Tristan Evans. 

You’re moving into his flat that he also shares with his bandmate Brad. They had extra room and you have been complaining about how expensive rent is in London to live on your own and you don’t want a creepy roommate so Tris saved your ass and offered the room.

Moving in wasn’t as hard is you’d expected. Mostly because you had the other vamps helping you carry stuff to the flat. 

You of course carried some of your stuff up but not being the strongest person in the world made it pretty difficult.

You especially needed help with carrying your electric drum kit cause that shit’s heavy.

“Right, Y/N, I think you’re pretty settled in.“ Tristan said, carrying the last box into your new room. 

“Yeah, but I still need a bed to sleep in.“ You said.

“You can sleep on the sofa tonight and we’ll go to IKEA tomorrow.”

“Yeah from what we’ve witnessed from the times you’ve visited us on tour you can sleep pretty much anywhere,“ Connor started. “And definitely not as tall as Tris so you’ll fit anywhere.“ He then added, laughing as the other boys laughed at his comment.

“Ha ha, go on mock my height when you don’t have an awful lot yourself.“ You fired back, patting his shoulder. 

“She’s got you there, Con.“ Brad said to him chuckling to himself.

“Oh, you can’t talk either, Bradley.“ you told him.

“You wound me, darling.“ He acted offended and put his hand over his chest in mock hurt. 

“Hey! Don’t be flirtin’ with my baby cousin!“ Tris exclaimed jokingly.

We all laughed and decided to drink some well deserved beers after carrying all the boxes up. 

Soon enough James and Connor left to go home to their own places.

You started to unpack the boxes with your clothes and putting the closet and dresser that were already in the room. 

While unpacking your clothes you came across a small cardboard box you keep all your printed out pictures of you visiting the boys while they were on tour. You were like a sister to all of them. 

You took the pictures out of the box and looked at all of them while sat on the ground. They were all a mixture of selfies with all the boys, pictures of the places you’ve been and pictures have taken of you playing drums. All of the good memories. 

You smiled at all of them and moved to collect them and put them back in the box when a voice spoke. 

“You always look so concentrate and content.“

You looked up to see Brad leaning on the doorframe of your room, arms crossed in front of his chest.

He looked good. He always does though. 

To be honest, you’ve had a huge crush on him ever since you stepped onto the tour bus when you were 19 and he was 22. 

“Sorry, what?“ You asked in confusion. 

“When you play drums you just look concentrated but also content and happy.“ He said while pointing to the pictures of you playing, then moving to sit across from you on the floor. 

“Well playing drums is such a reliever, you know? It’s just you and the sound of the drums.“ You explained to him. 

“Yeah I get that.“ He said nodding. “It’s the same when I start singing or start playing guitar or piano.“

“It’s one of the reasons why I brought the drum kit with me just in case I get tired of you two.“ You said with a joking smile.

“Very funny, Y/N,“ He said. “Well I’m happy you brought it.“

“Why?“ You asked the curly haired boy in front of you, while you absentmindedly sifted through the pictures. 

“Because it’s hot.”

You snapped your head up to find his brown orbs staring right back into yours. 

You could feel the blood rushing to your face. 

Clearing your throat just to do anything to relive the now awkward tension in the room. 

“Where’s Tris?“ You diverted the conversation from the awkward situation from before. 

“He popped over to the shop to get something I didn’t quite catch.“ He answered and moved to stand up. 

“Oh.“ Was the only thing you could say, mentally hitting yourself. 

he was now standing up, looking down at you and offered a hand to help you stand up from the ground. You gladly took it and he practically heaves up. 

“Y/N-“

“I’m back!“ Tristan hollers from the entrance of the flat. “Where are you guys?“

“Coming!“ You shout back at him.

Dammit, Tris.

Sleeping on the sofa wasn’t as comfortable as you’d hoped. 

It was weird not being able to move freely because of the backrest on it but at least you had Jesse to cuddle you while you were on your phone. 

Jesse is Brad’s golden retriever and a national treasure to be preserved. 

She proved to be very cuddly at 1 a.m. 

You then noticed you were thirsty so you decided to get up and make some tea in the hopes that would make you sleepy enough for you to sleep after. 

You never noticed how noisy turning on a kettle was until you had to turn it on in the middle of the night where everything seems noisier. 

When the kettle boiled you found a random mug and some classic English breakfast tea in one of the cabinets. 

“You awake, too?“ A voice startled you. 

You jump in fright and turn around only to find Tris. 

“Jeez, could’ve announced your presence without scaring me.“ You tell him, putting the tea bag into your cuppa. “But yeah I’m awake how else would I be making tea?”

“Don’t get smart on me,“ he playfully scolds you. “Why you awake, though?“

“Simply couldn’t sleep.“ 

“Sucks, but now you have me to keep you up as well.“ He smiles at you and walks to the kettle making himself a cuppa. 

“Oh gee, am I supposed to be happy?“ You ask him making him roll his eyes at your questions. 

You both moved to the sofa and sat down to talk.

Late night talks with Tris were always the best especially since you were so close and therefore could talk about everything from playing drums and nerdeing about that to mental health. 

“Okay, Y/N, I have a question for you.“ He tells you making you furrow your eyebrows. He doesn’t really announce that he has a question unless it’s something or serious.

“Shoot.“

“Do you like Brad?“

Now that was a question you didn’t expect. Like never.

It caught you off guard, making it difficult for you to answer his question.

“What would you say if I told you I did?“ You ask him back.

“I would tell you to fess up ‘cause you both like each other.“ He responded.

“Is it really that noticeable that I like him?“ Your eyes widened with your ask.

“Umm, if it wasn’t you guys’ obvious flirtin’ it would be you completely snappin’ out of it and getting distracted when he walks into the room.” He explains making you put your head in your. 

“Oh my God does he know?“ Your question comes out muffled because of your hands. You also avoided his amused gaze in embarrassment. 

“No no, he’s just as oblivious to your feelings as you are to his.” He informs you, making you relax. You also decided to ignore Tris’ confirmation of Brad’s mutual feelings for you. 

“I’ll tell you what,“ Tris starts again. “James, Con and I all agree you’re good for each other but I’ll go back to bed so you can sleep ‘cause you look like you’re tired now,“ he continues and moves to collect your mugs. “and say goodnight to you.“ he finishes when he put the mugs in the dishwasher.

“Goodnight, sleep well Tris.“ You tell him and he kisses your cheek.

“Sleep well, Y/N, we’ll try to keep it down when we wake up later on.“ He tells you and he proceeds towards the hallway

“Thanks.“

You lay down on the sofa again with Jesse coming to lay at your feet and you were out like a light.

You were aching.

You had been assembling a bed, a desk and a chair from IKEA with Tris, Brad, Con and James since you came home.

IKEA manuals were gonna be the death of you.

Tris, Con and James had gone out to the shop to get some champagne to celebrate you officially moving in since you also got your own copy of the key to the flat from the landlord.

Brad had stayed behind mumbling out some excuse for not going. 

You?

You had stayed behind because you still had to move things into your room and make your bed and all that fun stuff. 

“Need help?“ Brad’s voice interrupted your movements in making your bed.

“Um, not right now but thanks.“ You answered politely.

You felt awkward as you remembered what Tris had told you during the night. Even though you had ignored them you still acknowledged them.

He’s just as oblivious to your feelings as you are to his.

You finished making your bed with Brad’s burning gaze on you.

A phone pinged and both of you reached to check your phones.

“Tris says that they’re gonna be late ‘cause traffic’s bad.“ Bard said.

You could only nod in acknowledgment as you read the same text but on your own phone.

“Well what do you wanna do?“ He asked, desperately trying to break the awkward tension.

“I’m quite tired, actually,“ you confessed. “Assembling really drains the energy outta ya, ya know?“

“Yeah yeah, I get that.“ He answered and looked around your room. “Should we see if we made the bed as good as the one in the shop?“ He suggested.

“Smooth, Bradley,“ you laughed out. “But yeah, let*s.“

You both jumped onto the bed. 

“This is almost better than the one in the shop.“ He says, wiggling around.

“Yeah it is.“ You hold your hand up for a high five which he high fives and let’s his hand stay there, moving to thread your fingers.

You smiled at his actions and reciprocated. 

He released his hand and moved it to your face to brush some hair out of your face, making your face heat up.

You decided to make a bold move and move your face just mere centimeters away from his face.

You were both breathing hard in anticipation, trying to figure out who would kiss who first. 

Fuck it, you thought and kissed him.

He immediately caught on and moved on top of you, his arms caging your head.

It felt amazing.

Lips moving together, teeth clashing, tongues exploring your mouths.

You threaded your hands in his hair and tugged at it eliciting a moan out of him.

On of his hands started moving from its position at your head down to your waist making you giggle cause you were ticklish. 

He moved away from your face agonizingly slow.

“That was-“ he started saying but looked at loss for words. “Wow, just wow.“

“Yeah,“ you agreed. 

You couldn’t think straight as his now swollen lips moved down to kiss your jaw and neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He would suck, then lick your skin to soothe it.

To say the boy was talented was an understatement.

You could feel him smile against the skin on your collarbone when he found that spot that would’ve made you fall if you were standing up.

“We’re home again!“ Tris’ holler interrupted your little session, making Brad groan and fall on top of you. 

“We brought the champagne!“ James then hollers.

You both moved away from each other and sat up.

“Coming!“ Brad yells back at them which you were grateful for because you didn’t trust you own voice.

“You go ahead,“ Brad tells you. “I have to just sort something out.“ 

You snicker at him.

“We’re not finished,“ you tell him before walking out the door, smiling like an idiot ‘cause you couldn’t contain your happiness and the feeling of bliss.

One thing you forgot before greeting them was checking yourself in a mirror before greeting the guys.

“Hey guys!“ You greet.

“Uh, hey Y/N,“ James greets you back, holding back a chuckle.

Connor turned away to try and calm his laughter.

“Brad! Why does Y/N have hickeys down her neck!?“ Tris shouts while walking to your bedroom.

The smile fell off your face as James and Con couldn’t contain their laughter anymore.

Oh shit.

[bloody-bee-tea]

if you're still taking requests for november fics, could you write a fic where jc has social anxiety? maybe a modern au ... maybe he cries in public (which is Not good when you have social anxiety) if you decide to write this, thank you! :)

JC Love Month 2020 Day 8

Cliff

So not gonna lie, this totally got away from me, but I still give you JC with an almost debilitating social anxiety but the Nies are there for him yet again ;) Yes, I borrowed part of the plot from My Shy Boss, but I have only ever seen that one scene.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what‘s happening when Su She and Jin Zixun storm into his office and proceed to drag him out of it. He tries to tell them to stop, tries to break free, but they both have a very tight grip on him, and so all his struggles get Jiang Cheng nowhere.

There’s fear already settling into his gut and he doesn’t even want to think about what these two are going to do.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, sitting in your office all day, and never coming to presentations,” Su She sneers and Jin Zixun nods.

“Yeah, but guess what, pretty boy,” he says and then he laughs at his own joke.

Jiang Cheng thinks nothing about this is worth laughing about.

“Since you are always the one to make the presentations, you also get to hold it today! Isn’t that fun?” he wants to know and now Jiang Cheng struggles again.

He can’t hold a presentation. There’s a reason he’s in the most tucked away office, only working on preparing presentations and overseeing the paperwork and it’s because Jiang Cheng cannot speak to people.

Or in front of them.

“No—let go—,” he tries, but of course neither Su She nor Jin Zixun are listening to him.

It seems like his attempts to stop them only make them laugh more.

They are dragging him towards the conference room and Jiang Cheng goes ice cold with his panic.

He can’t be in front of these people. They will look at him and they will expect him to speak and when he doesn’t they will start to whisper and try to talk to him and Jiang Cheng cannot do this.

“Don’t,” he whispers, struggling in their grasp again, but the conference room is coming closer and closer, and Jiang Cheng’s heart is beating way too fast to be healthy.

“Have fun, pretty boy,” Jin Zixun tells him as he pushes the hood of Jiang Cheng’s pullover off his head and then they push him into the room.

Jiang Cheng stumbles over his feet but he eventually comes to a stop, right at the front of the table, and Jiang Cheng maybe should have simply let himself faceplant into the floor.

It would probably have been less humiliating than this.

There is another man at the front, who hands Jiang Cheng a microphone and Jiang Cheng accepts it out of reflex more than anything. His eyes are fixed on Su Shen and Jin Zixun who sat down in the sea of people by now and it’s only then that it hits Jiang Cheng how huge the room is.

And just how many people are staring at him.

He thinks he makes a surprised—or panicked—noise but he can’t actually hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears and for a split second Jiang Cheng thinks he’ll simply faint.

He doesn’t, sadly, and the people keep staring at him.

Someone started the presentation behind him, Jiang Cheng is dimly aware of that, and he thinks he’s supposed to speak, supposed to explain what the graphs and numbers mean, but Jiang Cheng can only stare at the mass of people in front of him.

“You should start,” the person who handed him the microphone says, and Jiang Cheng startles so badly he almost drops it.

“I—” he starts, but he can’t form words, can’t bring his tongue to do what he wants and even the thoughts in his head are all jumbled up.

“Give the presentation!” Su She yells and Jiang Cheng hones in on him, because at least he’s a familiar face in the sea of unknown people.

It doesn’t help much with calming down, because Su She is the reason he’s in this position in the first place and the other people are starting to mutter now, so Jiang Cheng drags his eyes away from him.

He’s shaking all over, his hand tightly clutched around the microphone and it feels like he’s dangling over a cliff, seconds away from falling, and at the moment the microphone is the only thing that stops him from falling.

“I—the com—I’m—” Jiang Cheng tries, but he can’t even finish half of his words, and he knows they wouldn’t come out in the right order either and now people are openly talking about him.

Someone is even pointing a finger at him and Jiang Cheng’s whole vision goes black for a moment. He can barely breathe, his breath coming in short and rapid gasps and he knows this is only going to accelerate the panic attack, but he can’t stop himself, can’t stop himself from shaking or stuttering, either, and he hears his father’s voice in his mind, telling him how stupid he is, how useless if he can’t even speak properly, and Jiang Cheng feels hot mortification slice through him when a tear rolls down his cheek.

He wants to run away, wants to get out of this room, but he’s rooted to the spot and he doesn’t know which way safety lies at all.

The voices in the room get louder and louder and Jiang Cheng thinks the moderator is saying something—probably urging Jiang Cheng to speak—but Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart through the room and he sees all eyes on him, knows that everyone is looking and talking and that it’s all about him because he’s the centre of attention and it’s all too much.

The tears are flowing more freely now, only adding to Jiang Cheng’s panic but he can’t seem to stop, can’t even seem to raise his hand to wipe them off, and it’s only when he tries that he realizes he was still holding on to the microphone, because it falls to the floor with a loud, discordant noise.

It only adds to the chaos and panic in Jiang Cheng and he thinks he might just throw up, here in front of everyone, when someone suddenly blocks his view.

Blocks Jiang Cheng from everyone else’s view, really, because the man is towering over him and he’s wide enough to act as a cover as well.

“Breathe,” a voice tells him and Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath purely because the man told him to but it doesn’t seem like he’s satisfied because he instructs him to breathe again and again, his voice calm and measured, the time between his orders always the same.

It takes embarrassingly long before Jiang Cheng can manage to breathe on his own, but as soon as he does, the man ushers him out of the room, without another word to the assembled people. Jiang Cheng catches one last look at Su She and Jin Zixun before he leaves the room and their smug expressions makes him want to throw up on them but even the thought of stepping back into the room has Jiang Cheng hyperventilating again.

“Breathe,” the man reminds him again, one large hand on his back and Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Good,” the man praises him and then leads him into another huge room, though this one is blissfully empty.

Jiang Cheng sees a couch inside the office and his feet carry him towards it without his conscious thought but when he reaches it he crouches down in front of it instead of sitting down on it, and he presses his forehead to the cushions.

His heart is still racing, and there are still tears in his eyes, the panic tightly gripping his heart and stomach and mind, and Jiang Cheng wants to do nothing more than go home and curl up under his blanket.

“What do you need?” the man suddenly asks him, startling Jiang Cheng badly, because he had honestly forgotten that he wasn’t alone, and any resemblance of calm leaves him in an instant.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man immediately says, clearly picking up on the fact that Jiang Cheng is spiralling again and he takes a few steps back.

But then he seems to come to a conclusion because instead of backing further away, he suddenly marches up at Jiang Cheng and before Jiang Cheng can scramble to get out of the way—he doubts he could have made it, with how his legs feel—the man hauls Jiang Cheng up.

Jiang Cheng barely has time to think before the man pulls him close, pressing Jiang Cheng’s face into his shoulder and resting a grounding hand at the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” the man says again, and by now Jiang Cheng realizes that he should recognize that voice, but his mind is still too foggy to continue that thought.

Jiang Cheng hates being in the presence of people he doesn’t know well, hates being the centre of attention, and even though he clearly is both of these things right now, their position allows him to pretend that he’s not.

It’s a very comfortable position to be in; he can’t actually see anything and the hand at his nape is the perfect weight to keep him in the present.

Jiang Cheng wonders if he can book this man to follow him around to do this every time Jiang Cheng has a meltdown.

He stays where he is for longer than is maybe necessary, but Jiang Cheng knows that as soon as the man lets go of him there will be questions he has to answer, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he can.

He’s not just a mess in front of multiple people; usually just one is enough to tie his tongue and make him skirt the edge of a breakdown.

“Will you be alright if I let go of you?” the man suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng jerks, but his reaction is not as bad as it was before.

“No,” he says after a moment of deliberation and the man squeezes his neck in acknowledgement and then simply let’s Jiang Cheng compose himself in peace.

It takes long—longer than it has in quite some time—before Jiang Cheng feels ready to move away from the man.

When he finally does he really wishes he wouldn’t have, because that’s Nie Mingjue.

That’s the CEO of the company Jiang Cheng works for, and he’s pretty sure with the display he just put on, he’s going to be out of a job soon enough.

Especially if Nie Mingjue was in the conference room to see his complete meltdown.

“I’m Nie Mingjue,” the man introduces himself, startling a laugh out of Jiang Cheng who slaps a hand over his mouth.

“You know that,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile and Jiang Cheng nods.

“My—I’m—Jiang Cheng,” Jiang Cheng finally just presses out when his words continue to fail him and Nie Mingjue nods at him.

“I know that, actually,” he tells Jiang Cheng who goes white at that.

If Nie Mingjue knows who he is it can only be because someone had a complaint about him or because the work he does is so bad that Jiang Cheng is about to be fired.

“It’s not what you think,” Nie Mingjue reassures him. “The work you do is excellent. That’s why I know who you are.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind is spinning like crazy because none of this makes any sense, least of all Nie Mingjue praising him for his work, and he doesn’t know how to react to it either.

“Are you feeling better? Is there anything I can do?” Nie Mingjue asks, and Jiang Cheng forces himself to get it together.

It’s already shameful enough that he can’t keep it together in front of people; making his boss realize just what a mess he is, is not going to help him any.

“I’m alright,” Jiang Cheng says, glad when his voice holds out and his thoughts don’t come out all mangled up and Nie Mingjue gives him a very doubtful look.

“My little brother used to react like that in face of other people as well. I know you’re not okay,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng flinches.

Used to. Which means Nie Mingjue’s brother eventually grew out of it, very much unlike Jiang Cheng.

“I see,” he whispers, shame curling in his gut again, because he never managed to overcome his fear like Nie Mingjue’s brother did.

“Stop it,” Nie Mingjue chastises him and when Jiang Cheng flinches he puts his hand on his neck again.

Jiang Cheng instantly relaxes.

“My brother has years of therapy behind him and he had a very good support system, that made sure he didn’t get into situations like this unsupervised. I’m guessing you had neither, especially given the fact that you’re working for me, instead of your father.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes burn again, because no. His father never thought it would be worth it to send Jiang Cheng to therapy, seeing as he somehow still managed to function in every-day life and even got a degree, and while Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were always sympathetic, they had their own life and struggles, so they couldn’t support Jiang Cheng as much as he needed.

“He said I can’t lead the company, if I’m being like that,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “And he claimed he didn’t have another job for me either.”

“So you had Lan Xichen put in a word with me,” Nie Mingjue nods and Jiang Cheng shrugs awkwardly.

“I know I wouldn’t have made it through a job interview. Xichen promised that I would be judged based on my work once I got in.”

“And you are,” Nie Mingjue says. “The work you do is excellent.”

Jiang Cheng doubts that, because he’s only working behind the scenes, doing the paperwork no one else wants to do, he knows that, but it’s still nice to hear it.

“The work you do is important,” Nie Mingjue says as if he can read Jiang Cheng’s mind, and by now Jiang Cheng is inclined to believe that, however fantastical it sounds because no one has been able to read Jiang Cheng like this in a long time.

“It’s unloved work, yes, but mostly because everyone I had in that position before found it too difficult. I didn’t hear that complaint from you, yet.”

“Because it’s not,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

Sure, it’s a lot of work, but it’s not that difficult once you understand the workings of the company, and Jiang Cheng finds himself with hours to spare more often than not.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Nie Mingjue says and takes his hand back, much to Jiang Cheng’s dismay.

“I’m sorry I butchered the presentation today,” Jiang Cheng says, because he’s uncomfortable with the praise he’s getting.

Mostly because he’s not used to that, but Jiang Cheng pushes that thought away.

“It wasn’t your presentation to give,” Nie Mingjue says and he seems angry now. “Weren’t Jin Zixun and Su She supposed to give it?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng nods. “But they thought since I prepared it, it would only be fair if I gave it too. They are tired of doing my work for me, apparently,” Jiang Cheng whispers and waits for Nie Mingjue’s judgement on that.

“And I am tired of them acting like that,” Nie Mingjue says and rubs a hand over his face. “That’s harassment of a colleague and it’s more than enough reason to finally fire them.”

“Finally?” Jiang Cheng dares to ask.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to fire them for a while now,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug. “But while they are shit at their job, they are excellent at covering their tracks, so I didn’t have sufficient reason yet. This finally gives it to me.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says with a wince, because it hasn’t been them who covered their tracks.

That was all Jiang Cheng. And maybe it’s time he admits to that.

“I—it’s not them,” he says and when Nie Mingjue’s eyes fall on him the so familiar panic starts to build in his chest again.

“Breathe,” Nie Mingjue says instantly and Jiang Cheng does.

It helps.

“I have been covering their tracks for them,” he admits once his breath regulates again and Nie Mingjue fixes him with a glare.

“What?”

“They said they would make me talk to people,” Jiang Cheng says and shrinks in on himself again. “They did this today, because I refused to fix their mistake last time,” he then whispers and Nie Mingjue slams a hand down on the table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says immediately afterwards, clearly having noticed Jiang Cheng’s flinch. “What absolute shit-stains,” he mutters and reaches for his phone, before he hesitates. “If I call my brother here, will you be alright?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng hesitates, but in the end he nods.

It’s not quite as bad with fewer people around and if it’s the brother who suffered the same, then he at least will understand.

“Huaisang is so going to love raining hell on them,” Nie Mingjue says and makes the call.

Nie Huaisang, it turns out, loves nothing more than to rain hell on them.

Jiang Cheng tries to make himself very small on the couch where he finally took a seat, but of course Nie Huaisang notices him the second he comes in, but he doesn’t pay him much attention, seemingly too excited to get rid of Su She and Jin Zixun.

It’s only when they have finalized their plans—with no input from Jiang Cheng at all—that Nie Huaisang turns towards him.

“And who might you be?” Nie Huaisang asks him and Nie Mingjue puts a hand to his shoulder.

“He exposed them today,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Be gentle, he has social anxiety just like you.”

“Oh, I see,” Nie Huaisang says, suddenly a lot more relaxed than before, but Jiang Cheng stiffens when he bounds over. “What therapist do you go to?”

“None,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say and he wants the couch to swallow him when Nie Huaisang simply blinks at him.

“Da-ge,” he then says and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“I know, Huaisang.”

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang nods, and plops down next to Jiang Cheng, who has no idea what just happened. “We’re going to recommend you to my therapist,” Nie Huaisang says and Jiang Cheng stares at him.

“What?”

“If you’re just like me then it’s a really bad case, right? You can’t go on like this. We’re going to get you the help you deserve,” Nie Huaisang decides and then smiles sheepishly when Nie Mingjue pointedly clears his throat.

“I mean, if you want to. We’re going to help you if you want to.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes dart over to Nie Mingjue who nods encouragingly at him and it never before occurred to Jiang Cheng that this is something that requires professional help.

His father always made it sound like if he can’t deal with it by himself, then that’s just because he’s too weak to overcome this.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know at all what to do with the support he’s being given right now.

“Whoever you’re thinking about, I’m going to kill them for you,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully says, because clearly everyone in this room can read him now. “Well, I’m going to have da-ge kill them for you, but, semantics.”

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue chides him but it startles a laugh out of Jiang Cheng.

He hasn’t laughed in front of others for way too long, he knows that, and he’s surprised by his own reaction.

But something about being around the Nie brothers makes it feel easy.

“Okay,” he agrees, and he leaves it entirely open to what he agrees.

Going by the wide smile on Nie Huaisang’s face, he picked up on that almost immediately.

“We’re going to keep him,” Nie Huaisang decides and Jiang Cheng would object to ‘being kept’ but no one bothered to even like him in a long time—his condition not making it easy, Jiang Cheng knows that, but still—and so he can’t find it in him to complain about that.

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue says, as if there has never been any doubt about that, and it settles something in Jiang Cheng.

Maybe here it doesn’t matter that he can’t string two coherent sentences together. Maybe here, he will be accepted for who he is.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[the-iceni-bitch]

Burning Both Ends: Epilogue

Vices Assemble: Chapter 5.3 (5.1 here and 5.2 here)

Pairing: Mob!Stucky x mob!reader

Words: ~1K

Summary: Steve and you try your best to not wake up Bucky.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, morning sex, m receiving oral sex, mmf threesome, fingering), absolutely no plot, bratty Bucky, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: So this was originally supposed to be the conclusion to the previous part of the chapter but I felt like I ended it in a good place. But I wanted to do some sneaky morning sex with this three, so fuck it.

I no longer do taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You grumbled when the first ray of sunshine washed over the bed, hitting you right in the eyes and waking you up from a very pleasant dream. Not that you could be too cranky when Bucky was still fast asleep with his face nestled between your breasts, his breath warm against your skin and tickling you just a little bit. Steve was stirring though, the arm he had draped over your waist tightening around you and pulling you closer while he murmured sleepily into your neck.

“You up, doll?” His lips were soft but insistent, tracing up the curve of your neck until he could brush them against your jaw.

“Yeah, you should really invest in some fucking curtains.” You sighed softly when he tangled his leg around yours, his hips starting to slowly grind against your ass while he chuckled.

“What about Buck?” He trailed his hand up until he was cupping your breast gently, his tongue darting out to lick into your mouth when you turned your face to his.

“Still asleep.” You hooked your thigh back over his hip so he could slide his hard cock between your legs, not slipping inside you yet, just slicking himself up as ran his aching length between your folds. “He’s not gonna be happy if we start without him.”

“He’ll get over it.” Steve swallowed your gasp when his tip nudged against your clit, your bodies starting to roll against each other desperately. “I’ll suck his cock when he wakes up, that always calms him down. Now be quiet.”

“You don’t get to… ah, fuck… boss me around.” You swallowed a moan when he slowly slid inside you, nudging your nose against his when he started fucking you in slow, smooth strokes that barely jostled the mattress.

“Not trying to boss you, doll… shit.” He growled and bit at your lips when you clenched around him. “But our boy is fucking greedy, and I want you all to myself for just a little bit.”

“Aww, knew you missed me, Stevie.” You purred as you teased him, arching your back so you could roll your hips to meet his slow thrusts.

“Yes, fine.” He wrapped his hand around your throat and rocked his hips a little harder, hitting that deep spot that made your toes curl. “Honey, shit. Right there?”

“Mmhm, god, Steve.” He changed his angle of his hips and you drew in a sharp breath, biting your lip to try to stay quiet. “Right there.”

He cupped your jaw to keep your faces close as he stroked your tongue with his own, his other hand trailing over the curve of your hip until he slipped it between your legs and teased his fingers over your clit. You were so wrapped up in each other you didn’t ever register Bucky whining softly and nuzzling into your breasts as he started to wake up. But Steve was giving it to you so good, so fucking deep, you were just a little too caught up in the coil of pleasure that was tightening in your core you couldn’t really register what else was happening.

At least until his lips wrapped around your nipple. It was the same thing every time he woke up, straight to the tits. But fuck, with the way Steve was already working you over?

You let out a shaky moan when you finally came, winding your fingers through Steve’s between your legs and grinding against him as he fucked you through it, groaning into your mouth at the feeling of your soft walls fluttering around him. Bucky kissed his way up your chest until he could suck on Steve’s fingers where they were curled around your jaw.

“Morning, Bucky.” You managed to come back down and turned your face to Bucky’s, grinning at the sullen pout he gave you. 

“You could’ve woken me up, assholes.” He grumbled, nipping at the pad of Steve’s thumb when he brushed it over his lips. 

“Sorry, baby.” Steve chuckled when Bucky rolled his eyes, his hips slapping against your ass now that he didn’t have to worry about not waking your boy up. “You got all the attention yesterday, ‘scuse me for wanting to give our girl some well deserved… shit… pleasure. Doll, you are squeezing the fuck outta my dick, sure hope you’re close, ‘cause I’m not gonna last. Help her along, Buck. Can’t suck your pretty cock until I’m finished.”

“Fucking right you’re sucking my cock.” He mumbled, turning his face away with a scoff when Steve tried to kiss him, sucking a bruise against your throat instead as he slipped his hand between your legs and twirled his fingers with Steve’s over your swollen clit.  “Early rising bastard.”

You were already right there, Steve’s thrusts growing erratic as he nipped at the hollow behind your ear and groaned softly. When Bucky moved his mouth to yours and swept his tongue over your lips that was it, your body jolting when the hot coil of pleasure snapped and you let out a choked sob. Bucky swallowed your pretty noises while Steve’s hips stuttered, his thick spend shooting against your swollen walls as he peppered kisses over the curve of your shoulder.

When you and Steve had come down and finally turned your gazes to Bucky, he was pouting like a spoiled toddler. He didn’t stop when you started cooing soothing words at him, or when the two of you pressed him onto his back and began kissing and sucking at his chest and neck. It wasn’t until you were both between his legs, your lips tugging on his balls while Steve licked a thick stripe up his length that he finally let his lips quirk in a small smile.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒/𝐎

Requested by: @seacottons

❄𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong smiled proudly at his work of art. He carefully picked up the gingerbread house and held it up.

"Look look baby!" He exclaimed, bouncing lightly on his feet as he showed you it.

"Oh my God! It looks amazing!"

The smile on your face that was happy for Hongjoong soon turned to a pout though as you stared down at your own creation. Hongjoong peeked over and noticed why you were sad. Your gingerbread house was falling apart, barely standing up, and the frosting was smeared all over the place, including your face and hair.

"Awww sweetheart come on." Hongjoong cooed as he began to wipe some of the frosting off your face.

"I suck and I hate Christmas." You huffed softly, your arms crossing over your chest.

"Stop you don't mean that." He said cupping your cheeks.

"Tell you what? How about we go back to the store and I buy you that spongebob gingerbread house you wanted and build it for you?"

Your eyes lit up at his comment.

"Really?!" You squealed.

Hongjoong kissed your frosted nose, licking some of it off and then winked at your blushing figure.

"Come on baby. We want to get there before it closes."

❄𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

"Baby baby look!"

You rolled your eyes as your boyfriend once again got sidetracked from your task and began pulling you to see some of the items on display.

"Seonghwa! We're supposed to be shopping for gifts for the boys." You reminded him.

"I know, I know...but look how cute these are!"

Seonghwa couldn't help himself as he picked up some of the baby mittens and hats. He giggled as he held them out to you.

"Seonghwa? Who are those supposed to fit? Yunho?" You rolled your eyes.

"No silly! But I was thinking....you know.."

Seonghwa wiggled his eyes suggestively at you. When you caught onto his meaning, you smacked his arm and started walking away.

"You're....ugh!

Seonghwa quickly put the stuff down and walked behind you.

"Why are you against this?! I thought you wanted to give me what I wanted for Christmas and I want a positive pregnancy test!".

He cried out then quickly turned cause something caught his eye.

"Look this is perfect for Mingi!"

You sighed as you realized it was gonna be a long day.

❄𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You and Yunho were currently putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree. You felt so proud at the color combination you picked out. You tilted your head when you heard a cluttering sound.

"Oops?" Yunho smiled shyly as he began to pick up some of the glass balls that he had accidentally dropped on the floor.

"Yuyu careful. I don't want you cutting yourself." You said as you helped him pick them up.

"I'll be fine love. They didn't even shatter." He assured you.

After you guys picked up the ornaments and finished putting them up, you both began clapping and jumping up and down.

"It's almost finished."

You picked up the last item, a shiny gold star to put on the top of the tree. You happily walked over to the tree.

"Baby? Need me to do it?" Yunho offered.

"I can do it!"

You reached up but unfortunately couldn't reach all the way to the top. You stood on your tippy toes, but still couldn't place the star on the top. Defeated, you turned with a pout to Yunho. He merely chuckled as he took the star away from you.

"Don't worry love. It's what I'm here for."

He kissed your cheek before proceeding to lift you up on his arm.

"Come on. Let's finish decorating the tree together."

❄𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

"Yeosang. Can you please take out the cookies from the oven?" You asked as you assembled the frosting and the piping bags.

Making sure to put on oven mittens, Yeosang carefully took out the sugar cookies from the oven and placed the tray on the counter, fanning them out gently.

"Perfect! Now we can start decorating them!" You handed a bag to Yeosang.

Yeosang and you quietly began decorating the cookies, adding different figures and cute designs on them. You felt Yeosang tapping eagerly on your shoulder so you stopped what you were doing to see what he had done.

"Hehet." He chuckled as he showered you a blue cookie decorated with a white Hehetmon.

That wasn't the end, he then held up a cookie that resembled an angry bird.

"It's Seonghwa Hyung!"

You bursted out laughing at how cute your boyfriend was. You were so caught up in your task of decorating the cookies, you almost..... almost didnt notice the hands that swindled one of the cookies.

"Yeosang did you just ate one of the cookies?" You placed your hands on your hips.

Yeosang turned to you with a shocked look on his face.

"Nnno..." He muffled a lie, mouth full of the pastry he stole.

You shook your head and tried to hit him with the nearby whisk, but he quickly evaded you.

"You know I have a sweet tooth!"

❄𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San made sure not to hurt himself as he hammered the nails onto the wall. It wasn't easy considering a certain furry feline decided it was a good time to start rubbing her body on his leg.

"Byeol, babygirl. As soon as I'm finished I'll give you cuddles ok?" He smiled down at the cat.

The cat however glared at him. Hissing softly, she left to join you on the couch, where you were busy trying to finish filling the stockings with goodies and candies. Byeol began meowing at you, sprawling her body across your lap.

"Byeol, sweetheart. Soon ok?" You said as you gently put her down, which she did not appreciate.

Soon both you and San were finished.

"Ok. Let's hang them up now."

You two slowly placed two stockings first, testing the waters to make sure they wouldn't fall off or rip. You both stepped back and let it stay for a few seconds before deciding it was ok.

"We did it!" San clapped as he turned back to you and gave you a high five and then pulled you in for a hug.

"All right. Let's finish putting the others-"

You couldn't finish your sentence when you two turned around and saw that the rest of the stockings had been ransacked through, some of them even with a couple of tears. You guys then witnessed a very angry cat perch itself on the top of the couch, daring you to say something.

"Ah come on Byeol! We worked really hard on them!" San complained but was met by a low hiss.

You giggled. "Come on. Let's just drink some hot chocolate and give snuggles to our child before she decides to tear up the Christmas tree."

❄𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi hopped from one side of the stove to another, peering down at your task of slowly stirring the boiling pot in front of you. He turned his face, bringing it really close to yours.

"Is it ready yet?"

You sighed as he asked for the 6th time in less than 2 minutes.

"Mingi, I told you the hot chocolate will be ready soon." You repeated to him.

He whined and shook his shoulders slightly. Rolling your eyes, you handed him the spoon.

"Stir this for a bit. I'm gonna run down to the bathroom for a while."

Taking off your apron, you made a quick stop at the restroom. As soon as you came out, you head Mingi yelp from the kitchen. Quickly pulling out the first aid kit, you ran back to see what happened. Mingi's bottom lip quivered as he held out his hand.

"I accidentally burnt myself." He whimpered softly.

You tried to be as careful as possible while you rubbed ointment on the red patch on his skin and finished bandaging it up.

"There. All better?" You asked.

Mingi smiled shyly. "Can you kiss it to make the boo boo feel better?"

You giggled and tenderly kissed his hand. "You know you're such a dork..."

Leaning up, you pecked his lips.

"But you're my dork."

❄𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"Wooyoung. Press start now." You urged him.

"No! I'm not starting the movie until the popcorn is ready." He wouldn't budge.

"You won't miss much of it." You shook his arm.

"I am not starting a movie until all the required snacks are in place."

Right at that moment, the microwave beeped and Wooyoung quickly sped over to retrieve the popcorn. As soon as he set it down, he jumped back inside the pillow and blanket fort you two created, effectively tackling you down, making you groan and complain when he began adjusting around.

"Cuddle me! I wanna be the little spoon." He grabbed your arms and wrapped them around him.

You rolled your eyes but nonetheless cuddled up to Wooyoung as you started your Christmas movie marathon. Wooyoung would occasionally make you feed him popcorn or chocolate, or he'd end up throwing some at your face when you thought he'd feed you as well. He'd laugh every time you smacked his hand.

"Look baby! You're on tv!" He pointed to the screen when the Grinch came up.

"You're so annoying!" You exclaimed as you got up and let go of him.

Wooyoung wasn't having it though. He quickly pulled you back down and wrapped his legs around you, making you the little spoon this time.

"Come on baby. You know I'm kidding. I love you so much." He confessed as he attacked your cheek with kisses.

❄𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho carefully patted some more snow onto the snowman you were currently building. You had gone inside to get a hat and scarf to wrap around it. When you came back out and notices how focused he was, you decided it'd be fun to mess with him. Picking up some snow, you made it into a tiny ball before throwing it at the back of his head.

"Hey!"

Jongho screeched as he turned around, but was met with another snowball to the face that you threw at him. You giggled at him as he stared at you unamused. He bent down and picked up a large handful of snow and began walking towards you. You let out a squeal and began running as fast as you could, trying to escape your boyfriend's revenge.

"Get back here Y/N!" He shouted from behind, a smile plastered on his face.

Jongho ended up discarding the snowball and instead tackled you down onto the snow before proceeding to roll you guys around on it. He ended up pining you down and both of you were giggling like crazy.

"Oh..." You stopped laughing and looked at the tree above you.

Jongho followed your gaze to see a mistletoe hanging by one of the branches right above you guys. He looked back at you and smiled softly.

"I mean.....it is tradition." He mused as he bent down to tenderly kiss your lips.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[radiantroope]

Into the Wild || JJ Maybank

Chapter One: Denial

pairing: jj x reader

mentions: pope, kie, john b, sarah

summary: the pogues are going on their annual camping trip before the fall semester starts. tension between you and jj boils over, walking the fine line between just friends and something more. you wonder if the two of you can make it out of this.

warnings: underage drinking, drug use (marijuana), swearing, smut in future parts

author’s note: this is going to be a multi-part smut series! i love camping and felt compelled to write this. inspired by @storiesbymads and @ptersparkers with their series study sessions. please let me know what you all think of this, feedback is what keeps me going! love you.

masterlist || add yourself to my tag list

It was tradition since you were seventeen. A yearly camping trip with all of the Pogues. You’d travel off Kildare Island and into the wilderness of some random town in North Carolina. The destination every year was never the same. Everyone was twenty now, aside from you, having just turned twenty-one. This gave you the opportunity to buy a surplus of alcohol for the trip instead of scrounging up what you could find when you were underage.

The old Volkswagen bounced along the old country roads as John B pushed it to its limits. You were surprised it even still ran. Under the hood was a mess of duct tape and the fuel gauge wasn’t exactly accurate. The brunette boy had the funds now to get a new vehicle and you wondered why he hadn’t. Maybe it was the fact that the old hunk of junk held so many memories.

Your eyes shot open as John B pulled the van to an abrupt halt, body lurching forward. You huffed and rubbed the back of your neck as it tensed. You scolded your friend, “Jesus, JB. Next time ease up on the breaks.”

The Routledge boy simply scoffed in response and opened his door to climb out. Pope slid the back door open and you clambered out, Kiara and JJ following quickly after. You stretched your arms over your head then bent down to touch your toes, stretching out your aching back.

“Oh God, it’s never felt so good to stand,” JJ practically moaned as he twisted his back and cracked his spine.

“Disgusting,” Kiara muttered while pulling a face, walking around to help Pope and John B untie the camping gear from the top of the van.

Sarah reached into the back of the old car and started to get out everyone’s duffel bags. The blonde had thankfully learned her lesson when they were young when she brought two suit cases on her first trip with them. You teased her about it for the rest of the year and she swore you all were never going to let her live it down.

You attempted to drag the two large coolers to the door, grunting at the strenuous effort it was taking. One of them was full of food and the other of beer and water. JJ stood, leaning against the van puffing on his vape as he watched you with an amused expression. Finally you huffed and turned to the golden haired boy with a glare.

“Are you gonna help me or?” you trailed off, putting your hands on your hips.

He rolled his eyes and tucked his Juul back in his pocket before climbing over the coolers and standing behind them. He helped drop the cooler down on the grass, waiting until you slid it back to help with the other. The two of you dragged the large boxed containers over to where Sarah assembled rocks for the fire.

John B, Pope and Kiara were picking spots for the tents, making sure there was generous space between them for obvious reasons. Kie and Pope would be sharing one tent, Sarah and John B in another — leaving the only non-couple — you and JJ in the other. Said blonde boy walked over to take over setting up your little home for the next week after watching you struggle with the sticks.

“How many times have we been camping and you still can’t pitch a tent?” JJ teased as he skillfully put it together, glancing up at you with a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the drink cooler, pulling out your drink of choice, Mango White Claw. “I’m a small girl with tiny hands, okay. Me and tents don’t get along,” you defended yourself, watching over the others as they also got their tents put up.

“I’ve got a tent you’d get along with,” JJ remarked cockily, shooting you a wink when your head snapped to look at him.

That was the relationship you and JJ had since you were fifteen. Some would call it pining. He made sexual innuendos towards you and used his best worst pickup lines. There was an undeniable sexual tension between the two of you that everyone could feel. Though, you had this unspoken rule that the two of you would never cross the imaginary line between best friends and something more.

When Kie and Pope got together after John B’s disappearance all those years ago, the Pogues nearly fell apart. There was weird tension between the Heyward boy and JJ since the latter had been crushing on her for years — thank God he got over it a year later. Kiara and Pope had an on-off relationship for a while. When they were on, things were great aside from a few arguments here and there. But when they were off, there was a divide, and you all felt as though you had to pick sides and make time to spend with them both separately. When Pope went off to college, it solidified their relationship. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, you supposed.

Seeing the trials and tribulations of Kie and Pope’s relationship made you swear to yourself to never go there with JJ, no matter how badly you wanted to. Little did you know, the Maybank boy shared the same desires. He tried to drown it out with pussy and booze for a long time. He would get a girlfriend who had the same eye color as you or shared your mannerisms, hoping it would help him get over it. Yet it never did and they only lasted a week or two max. JJ had come to accept the fact that it was always going to be you and he would probably never find true happiness. You’d get married and start a family with someone else and he’d be forced to sit on the sidelines and watch. He spent many sleepless nights thinking about it.

“Just finish the damn tent,” you grumbled as you took a sip from your can and walked to Sarah who called for your help collecting firewood.

It was already fairly late in the day so once everything was situated at your campsite, you all decided to save your adventures for tomorrow. The fire was going and camp chairs for the six of you were circled around it. Pope and John B were fully focused on preparing hot dogs. They’d get one finished and hand it off to JJ to bun it and place whatever toppings were wanted on it.

“Y/N, you want anything on your dog?” JJ asked as he bent over the cooler, looking at you through the locks of hair that fell in his face.

“Just ketchup please,” you replied and pulled a Coors out of the cooler behind you.

JJ strutted over with the paper plate and bowed in front of you as he held it out. He gave you a cheeky smile and in a horrible English accent said, “For you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir!” you replied in an accent just as bad, taking the plate from his hands carefully. You held up the can of beer and grinned, “And for you.”

If there was a physical embodiment of heart eyes, it was JJ in that moment. He placed a hand over his heart and took the can, rough fingers grazing your own. He bent down and placed a quick kiss to your cheek then walked back towards John B and Pope, but not before calling over his shoulder, “Love you!”

You shook your head and let out a soft laugh, turning your attention to your food. You missed the look Kie and Sarah shared, knowing smiles on their faces. The two looked over at JJ who hadn’t stopped smiling since your minuscule interaction. He looked almost like the same giddy sixteen year old boy they all knew and loved.

A while later, after many more beers and delicious s’mores, everyone headed to bed. Shared good nights were called between everyone as they retreated to their tents. You had already slipped in yours, changing into your pajamas before JJ barged in. By the time he stumbled through the small opening, you were already curled up in your sleeping bag. Your hair was tied up in a messy bun that pressed up against the pillow.

JJ kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head. Your eyes flickered down to his toned abdomen for a moment before you turned over and closed your eyes. Ogling at your best friend would only make sleeping that much harder. You heard him rezip the tent and climb into his own sleeping bag that was only inches from yours. The two of you muttered drunken, sleepy goodnights before drifting off into dreamland.

You jumped awake in the early hours of the morning when the wind blew against the tent. You sighed softly and rested your head back against the pillow, breathing deeply to steady your rapidly beating heart. You reached for your phone and the time read 4:13 AM. You’d all sauntered to bed around one meaning you got roughly three hours of sleep. It was usually like that the first few nights of camping for you. The unease of sleeping vulnerably in the wilderness made you sleep extra lightly.

You sat up and glanced over at JJ whose face was barely illuminated by the moonlight shining through the mesh. His lips were parted slightly as soft snores and heavy breaths left his mouth. You cracked a smile seeing him like that, suddenly thankful he wasn’t a loud snorer like John B who you could hear from across your campground. You wondered how Sarah could stand sleeping next to someone like that.

As silently as you could, you crawled forward and slipped on your old Vans then unzipped the tent and slipped out. You closed it back and paused for a second to make sure you didn’t wake JJ. When you didn’t hear any rustling, you made your way over to the fire, that was now burnt branches and gray ash. You pulled the coolers next to each other longways then laid down on top of them.

One thing you cherished about the camping trips was the stargazing you were able to do. You couldn’t get a view like that back home, even in The Cut. The view was indescribable. You could see the satellites that orbited around the Earth, floating slowly through the atmosphere. You could lay there for hours, lost in thought as you gazed into the universe.

JJ awoke a short time later, almost as if he could sense you were no longer next to him. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm and reached his free hand out to feel for your warm body. He was met with the cold material of your sleeping bag. He was still disoriented as he sat up and squinted into the dark tent, searching for his shoes to see where you’d gone off to.

The sound of JJ’s footsteps nearing where you laid startled you, not hearing your tent unzip or the still slightly drunk boy stumble out. His eyes were glazed over and he had a dazed look on his face as he wandered over, shirtless and in the same shorts he fell asleep in. The dirty black boots scuffed against the Earth with each of his heavy steps.

“What’re you doin’?” his groggy voice asked, an octave or two deeper than usual.

“Woke up ‘n couldn’t go back to sleep,” you responded, sitting up when he patted your thigh. You straddled the cooler and JJ did the same, right in front of you. His knees brushed against yours as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

You watched as his hooded eyes glanced around the campsite before falling on you. You had tilted your head back to look at the stars again. The moonlight illuminated your face in a way that mesmerized him. He could see the stars reflecting in your eyes, eyelashes brushing flawless cheeks with each slow blink.

JJ took the opportunity to pull you closer, hands going under your knees and pulling until your legs were draped over his own. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement. You barely had time to react as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck. His tangled waves tickled your jaw as it blew in the breeze. You smiled slightly and brought one hand up to the back of head, fingers gently combing through his soft locks at the base of his neck.

Goosebumps rose over his tanned back as the fingers of your other hand gently trailed up and down his bicep. He resisted the urge to place kisses on your neck, knowing he’d be shot down and quite liked the current position you were in. Which wasn’t unusual for the two of you. JJ was touch starved and found every chance he could to hug on you or cuddle you. You never complained, liking the feeling of his warm body securing you in an embrace. You’d never met someone who made you feel as safe as JJ did when they held you.

“You falling asleep on me, Maybank?” you whispered teasingly at the feeling of his breath evening out against your collarbone.

You received a hum in response, his nose brushing your throat as he shifted his head.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you suggested, leaning back to get a look at the boy’s face.

JJ pulled himself back to sit upright, jutting his perfectly pink bottom lip out in a pout. He shook his head and his hands slid down to your thighs to squeeze them slightly. You were made painfully aware of the skimpy sleep shorts you were wearing and a heat rose to your face. You practically lived in a bikini but something about JJ seeing you like this made you shy.

“I wanna stay here with you,” he muttered, cerulean eyes flickering between your own.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the alcohol still coursing through your veins, but in that moment you were finding it hard to ignore how badly you wanted to feel his lips against yours. Your close proximity allowed you to admire every feature on JJ’s face. From the scar above his left eyebrow from his father to the tiny freckles most people never noticed on his cheeks. You threw everything out the window.

The hand you had on JJ’s bicep slid up past his shoulder and onto the side of his neck, thumb stroking the stubble lining his jaw. He squeezed your thighs again in response. His heart was hammering in his chest at the idea of what was coming. He would never initiate it though, leaving the ball in your court. His intense gaze never left yours until your eyes drifted down to his lips and up again.

The corners of JJ’s lips twitched up as he watched your tongue glide across your bottom lip. He barely registered that you were leaning in until he felt your breath against his chin. He sat there, still as a statue as your plump lips brushed against his own. He half expected you to pull away and come up with some way to brush off what was happening, though he was pleasantly surprised when you instead locked your lips on his.

JJ kissed you back, of course, he’d be an idiot not to. One of your hands found purchase in the hair at the back of his head while the other gripped his waist. Your head tilted, intensifying the kiss as your lips worked in synchronized motions. One of his large hands left your thigh and cupped the back of your neck, applying gentle pressure to deepen the kiss.

The both of you were on cloud nine, riding a high you just couldn’t achieve through drugs and alcohol. It was something the shared kisses between you always did. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Throughout the years the two of you had shared many kisses, some drunken spur of the moment kisses, others completely sober ones that you just couldn’t resist. You tried to keep yourself from doing it, knowing you were only hurting him in the long run and giving him a sense of false hope. Tonight he just looked so irresistible you had to seize the opportunity.

Your tongue swiped against his bottom lip, feeling his grip on your neck tighten. He allowed your tongue to slip into his mouth, mingling with his own. His other hand left your thigh and pressed against your lower back. He pulled you forward until your chests were pressed together and you were seated on his lap. His sharp teeth pulled at your bottom lip, quickly soothing the pink flesh with his tongue.

JJ’s lips left yours, trailing kisses down your jaw and onto your neck under your ear. You were in a daze. Your fingers gripped his hair and felt along his chest as a sigh left your lips. His hands wandered over the tank top on your back, continuing to leave wet, open mouthed kisses on your skin.

As you felt him pull the strap of your tank top down, lips beginning to suck at the bare skin of your shoulder, you were brought back to Earth. Your breathing picked up and gripped his shoulders to push him back, muttering, “J.. JJ, stop.”

The Maybank boy pulled away quickly, hands moving to hold your wrists as you now cupped his face. He stared at you and watched as many different emotions flickered in your eyes — none of which he could pinpoint. Here we go again. She’s gonna shut me down and pretend this never happened, he couldn’t help but think to himself. His chest tightened as he prepared for the softened blow you were about to give him.

You glanced behind to the other tents and both of you heard John B stop snoring for a solid thirty seconds before it started again. You looked back up at JJ felt your heart leap at the soft smile he gave you, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. How could you sit there and ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach after that kiss? How could you keep lying to yourself and say you didn’t want him? You couldn’t.

“Not here, not like this,” you murmured, leaning forward and resting your forehead against JJ’s.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and let his eyes flutter shut. He nodded the tiniest bit against your head and placed a small kiss on your nose. His heart rate picked up at the fact that you hadn’t totally fucked him off. He thought maybe, just maybe, you were finally coming around and sharing the same feelings he did.

But you thought JJ just wanted to fool around with you, a fun and risky friends with benefits thing. You had no idea he was painfully in love with you. And shit was about to get complicated.

tag list: @scandalousfemale @drewswannabegirl @ilovejjmaybank @pheyward @allielozoya @x-lulu @teenwaywardasgardian @wtfstarkey @queenk00k @letsgofullkook @sortagaysortahigh @jjmaybcnks @jjmbanks @ims0golden @jjsmentalpolaroids @oldschoolimagineblog @80s-outsiders @kaitieskidmore1 @starlightstarkey @sickofbitches  strike through means i couldn’t tag you; please let me know if you’d like to be removed

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 2

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let’s try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We’re living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn’t actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @vozit​ @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings  ! She deserves all the love 💙

Peter woke me up at eight AM the next morning like the little shit that he was, demanding I make him pancakes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had the joy to experience him in the morning and he knew exactly how to antagonise me enough to make him the special pancakes he liked so much. They had become kind of a ritual whenever he stayed over at my house, which was quite often - teachers liked me enough to pair me up with one of the most sensible kids for any projects that couldn’t be done alone by yours truly on her own.

I put on my yesterday’s dress, applied moisturizer and obediently trotted behind an excitedly mumbling Peter. The kitchen was large, beautiful and delightfully empty of any resident superheroes. I’ve indirectly crossed paths with all of the tower’s residents hanging around Tony, but I’ve yet had to speak more than polite niceties to any of them. 

Spying a bowl of boiled eggs and some sort of weird salad alongside half burned toast on the counter, I suddenly understood why Peter demanded his pancakes. I strictly instructed the disaster child to stay away from my cooking process and set to work with one ear listening to his ramblings and a headphone in the other. 

A set of thumping footsteps appeared behind me as I was pouring the batter for the first pancake. Their owner loudly sat down next to Peter, sighing, groaning, generally making “I’m not a morning person” sounds.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Peter’s tone was way, way too chipper.

“‘mrng,” The Sergeant grumbled. “Who’s this and why is she making pancakes?”

I turned around, spatula at the ready. “It’s me,” We’ve actually met before, but Barnes had left before I could even come over from my side of the work bench to say hello.

He nodded in acknowledgement after giving me a suspicious once-over. “One of Stark’s science children. I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” His voice sounded rough and gravely, and he clutched a coffee cup half the size of my head.

I snorted. “Science child, sure,” It wasn’t half-bad actually. I wisely choose to ignore the part of being Tony’s. No matter how hot the man was, I wasn’t anybody’s but my own, thank you very much. “Go get the bananas, Nutella and maple syrup, fellow science child.”

Peter scrambled to follow instructions as I plated the pancakes and cut the bananas into neat little rings to fill the sweet circles with. A tablespoon of Nutella, half a sliced banana, wrap, garnish with powdered sugar and pour maple syrup generously on top. I really didn’t see how this could be difficult but any and all attempts to teach Peter how to recreate my masterpiece always ended up in an absolute mess. I turned around to ask Bucky if he wanted any. The look of a man starved answered all my questions.

“You’re a goddess,” Peter moaned around his mouthful, nose smudged white with the powdered sugar.

“Gross, chew first then talk, you neanderthal,” I scoffed, prepping more batter for the second batch of pancakes. I wasn’t sure if everybody would show up but figured it would be rude to exclude them from the sheer magnificence that were my pancakes. I was just that good.

The music in my ear drowned most of Peter’s disgusting chewing noises, thankfully. My second batch vanished into thin air, inhaled by the two males like the garbage disposals that they were. Peter, in particular, ate an alarming quantity of food and I was surprised how he managed to stay so skinny. His daily eating schedule resembled the Hobbits.

More people appeared, this time acting less surprised regarding me standing at the stove. Hawkeye, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch and her brother, all of them wandered in wearing sleep attire with various amusing prints. Thankfully, they mostly kept quiet or chatted with Peter - I would have definitely grumbled if someone tried to talk to me. As far as my body was concerned it was still the middle of the night.

“PANCAKES,” A booming voice announced and I shuddered at the sheer intensity and devotion contained in that one word. Thor.

“Please use your indoor voice,” I snapped reflectively. My brain caught up with what I just did so I hastily backtracked. “Sorry, I’m a bitch in the mornings.”

The blonde man chuckled, coming over to poke his nose into my flurry of pour-flip-fill sequence. Then, with all the grace and manners of a prince, he dipped one (1) large finger into the jar of Nutella and wandered off with it stuck in his mouth. With this turn of events the Nutella was bound to run out sooner than expected.

I turned around, annoyed confusion in plain sight. “The fuck?.. That’s gross, don’t do that,” Finding his brother (adopted!) sitting next to Thor, wearing a haughty smirk, finger still in his mouth. So Loki turned into his brother to steal Nutella from a jar. I sighed. Nobody even batted an eye. “Your alien germs are in there now, double ew.”

“Alien germs? Where?” Bruce entered the kitchen with a tablet under his arm, wearing Hulk themed pajamas, Captain America in tow. I was honestly on the verge of breaking down into hysterical laughter. Domestic Avengers wasn’t something I’d expected to see or experience, ever, much less be a part of. It took a moment for me to remind myself that they were people, too, and each of them was entitled to their own quirks. 

“America, egg-splain,” Peter muttered under his breath, giggling. “Loki stuck his hand in the Nutella jar,” He pointed at said jar. “She got grumpy,” Peter pointed at me. “Don’t make her grumpy, please, I want more pancakes,” And turned his pleading puppy eyes in my direction again.

“This is indentured servitude,” I pointed my spatula at the little shit. “You just had, like, ten.” But I made more batter nonetheless. I must admit it was kind of cool, seeing the earth’s mightiest defenders so relaxed. And Pete being happy, that was just… The best. I don’t know how to explain it. His eternal cheerfulness was highly contagious.

Chuckles filled up the room, the adults chatting and bickering amongst themselves while they patiently waited for their own breakfast. 

“Do you need some help?” Bruce approached me after stopping to fetch himself a cup of tea. It smelled strongly of tangy herbs and honey.

“I need more Nutella and bananas,” I admitted, surveying the sheer amount of people I had to feed. I didn’t doubt the Captain and two Asgardians had an appetite to match Peter’s which meant a literal extra set of condiments was required. Thankfully, Bruce fetched them for me, coming to a stop next to me. “Anything else?”

“You know, I tried making these with Peter and he just ended up with powdered sugar and chocolate all over himself,” I mused, noting the way Banner was carefully observing the assembly of a pancake. “You think Doctor seven-phds can manage to add a few toppings to a pancake without causing a disaster?“ 

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, bumping me with his hip. "I’m no Clint Barton when it comes to cooking but at least I don’t burn my toast like Steve,” True to his word, his hands made swift motions of filling, wrapping and plating each individual pancake. They were almost as good as mine albeit more messy. I had lots of practice though. We finished off a batch in companionable silence, sounds of the team and my music playing in the background. 

I didn’t notice when I started swaying to the rhythm, catching a confused look from Bruce. I brushed back my hair, revealing a wireless headphone in my ear and he chuckled in understanding. “What are you listening to?”

“Right now? Kings of Leon,” I said, leaning towards him so he could hear the chorus “Use Somebody” currently occupying my right ear. 

“I like them, too,” He said, his cheek gently touching mine. His hands slowed on the pancake, a soft hum vaguely reminding me of the song’s melody emanating from his throat. “What else do you usually listen to?”

“Mostly heavier stuff, but I have a whole separate playlist dedicated to mid-2000s bops,” I answered. “I’ve heard I’m quite old school when it comes to music.”

“Well, I am an old man, so…” Bruce grinned mischievously. “But my guilty pleasure is Lady Gaga,” He admitted with a laugh.

I laughed, too. The image of his dancing in his lab to Born This Way was too much for my brain and I hung my head, fighting giggles. Bruce bumped me with his hip again, faking a pout. “Okay, okay, that was a fucking hilarious image, you go dude,” I finally powered through my struggle to contain laughter. “My own guilty pleasure would be… Umm… Lana Del Rey, I guess.”

Bruce made a vague noise of confusion. I took a brief break from mixing the batter to dig out my second headphone, presenting it to him and switching to a song. “This is what makes us girls”. Despite the fact I have never stolen a car or had a close female friend, the nostalgia was real. “Carmen” followed after the first song and I silently thanked whatever deity that “You can be the boss” was taken out of Spotify - I don’t think I was prepared to share that kind of information with a lab partner. An older, handsome lab partner. Wait… Where did that come from?

“I like it,” He said after the song ended and my more usual stuff began playing. “It suits you, I think.”

I groaned. “Really? I think it’s edgy,” Hiding away the embarrassment, I passed him a tray of freshly baked pancakes, occupying his immediate attention.

“You’re an old soul,” He gave me a lopsided smile. I saw a very faint blush tinting his cheeks, the kind of blush that had me wondering about the meaning behind his words. 

I gave an attempt at a smile in response, the left corner of my mouth barely tilting up. We talked some more about the rock music we shared in our earphones. I had a lot of 80s hair metal and 90s grunge in my playlist. Bruce was not a Curt Cobain man but enjoyed the works of his legacy, Marcy Playground. 

A tan hand wormed its way between me and Bruce, snatching a handful of banana slices and disappeared just as swiftly. “Tonyyy,” Bruce groaned, picking up another banana to replace the stolen pieces.

The spatula in my hand became a weapon as I blindly aimed at the target behind my back. A loud “ow” indicated I hit it. When I turned around, Tony was clutching the side of his face, a hurt look in his eyes and cheeks stuffed full of stolen goods. I stared him square in the face, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was shirtless - the arc reactor glowed brightly in the middle of his toned chest. Fuck.

His chest was honestly what I was aiming for. I constantly kept forgetting how short he actually was. There was this one time when Tony had to put his arms around me to steady a piece of tech - he felt huge, hard and enormous around me. 

“What’s that for, Princess?” He finally chewed through his food and found his voice.

“For being a Tony,” I retorted. “Stay away from my workspace and wait for your breakfast like everybody else.”

“Hey! This is my kitchen,” He whined immediately, like the adult man that he was. I nearly cried from how adorable his face became, eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t want to wait! And why does he,” Tony’s finger accusingly pointed at Bruce, “Get the bananas?!”

“Because he’s Brucie-bear,” I stuck my nose up in the air when Bruce’s arm wrapped around my waist. “He’s my science father,” I stuck my tongue out at Tony, seeing Bruce’s triumphant smile. Banner used every opportunity to get back at Tony’s incessant sass. 

The gleaming in Tony’s eyes should have alarmed me. “But he’s not your science daddy,” Tony’s flirting was accompanied by a salacious eyebrow wiggle and Peter’s screech of “OH MY GOD!" 

It took me every ounce of willpower to not flush. It was one of those rare times that I was at a complete loss of words. Thinking on the spot, I gave a very meaningful look to Bruce - thankfully, he got the gist and returned an equally filthy smirk back. Tony gaped.

"Is this how they are in the lab?” The Captain’s quiet voice leaked horrified amusement.

“All.The.Time.” Peter’s resonating groan was followed by Romanoff’s laughter.

We went up to the lab after breakfast. Thankfully Tony stopped his dramatic bitching when I served him my pancakes, scarfing them down much like everybody else. So me and Pete were accompanied by one (1) happy engineer, all three of us tinkering away on a robot that we were supposed to present in our science class in a month. The focus that was required to solder was immense and our usual banter was missing, replaced by an occasional request for a specific tool or a water bottle.

It took a few hours to get the dirty job done even with Tony’s help (technically he wasn’t supposed to but neither me nor Pete had the heart to forbid him from it when the man looked so content and happy soldering away). By the time I uncurled from my spot on the bench, my back was in knots and my dress had oil stains and holes all over it. I immediately went to the nearest water bottle, finishing half of it in seconds, picking up my phone to see if I had any important messages from my mother.

None.

Just a message from Bruce.

I tapped on my phone, idly scrolling through the Instagram app, liking some pictures of people I barely knew and keeping up a general appearance of being very busy. When the ringtone started playing, it took me a whole five seconds to understand it was, in fact, coming from my phone - I certainly wouldn’t put something so… Outrageous as my main tone.

Banner had discovered the power of the internet. You Can Be The Boss played loudly, and it played from my phone and Bruce was calling me. I picked it up, turning around, fighting the incoming laughter. “Yes, Brucie?" 

To say that Tony’s and Peter’s faces were scandalised was nothing. The boy’s face was such a deep shade of red, I started worrying about his blood pressure and Tony’s mouth hung open limply, like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ. 

"Is Tony sufficiently traumatized?” Judging by the breathless tone of his voice, Banner was resisting a mighty laughing fit of his own.

“Oh, absolutely,” I happily chirped.

“Good, keep it up. Come to my lab before you leave,” Banner snorted and then, realising what he’d done, promptly hung up, the tell-tale beginning of a giggle fit abruptly interrupted by a dial tone.

I put the phone in my bag, gathering the rest of my things with a look somewhere between innocence and indifference. At least, I hoped it was - my mind kept jumping between the engineer’s ridiculously scandalised face and the way his mouth went slack, lips moist and soft and plush. That’s a very dangerous trail.

A very dangerous trail I couldn’t resist exploring in the solitude and privacy of my own bedroom, at home.