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freedomfireflies · 2 months

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You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms.

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable.

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship.

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.”

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath.

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers.

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.”

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you.

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door. "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything.

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs.

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit.

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale.

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper.

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly.

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle.

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet.

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch.

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees.

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard.

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation.

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him.

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it.

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?"

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip.

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free.

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has.

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years.

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?"

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head.

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches.

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing.

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper.

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up.

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin.

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back.

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful.

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument.

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.”

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it.

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear.

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you.

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone.

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in.

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear.

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle.

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—"

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high.

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

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yaksha-lover · 11 months

Text

Someone New

Summary: Travelling worlds has its side effects; namely, having visions of multiple timelines. As you get closer to the housewardens after their overblots, you begin to see the possible future that awaits the two of you, if only you decide to choose them.

Overblot gang x Reader (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)

GN but mentions of biological children - imagine anything you want though (magic spells that make anything possible!)

i. blooms of red and bursts of reason; riddle rosehearts

Even after knowing him for months, you don’t touch Riddle until long after his overblot. He isn’t truly comfortable with you, with anyone, touching him so casually.

The chill of autumn ghosts your skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms. When he notices you rubbing your forearms to gather some warmth, Riddle insists on offering you his coat. Something about ‘rule five hundred and nine.’

His ways don’t always make sense to you, but you appreciate the sentiment behind the action. You take his coat, uttering your gratitude to him, although it’s quite small considering his stature. He offers you a small smile; in Riddle’s case, you know that means a lot.

You can’t help but return his smile, the small affection making your heart stir suddenly. It’s nice - spending time alone with Riddle. At the beginning of the year, you’d never have imagined becoming close with him. It was hard to see past the strict housewarden who never let anything go.

You think he’d made assumptions about you too. About you being a troublemaker, someone not worth his time, just another problem. You’re thankful you’ve both come around.

You stare at him from the corner of your eye as you walk together. He truly is gentle at heart, despite what his temper might suggest. His red hair sits perfectly on his head, cutely framing his face. It makes you think of his mother; his hair is perhaps the only good thing she passed onto him.

You snap out of your thoughts when you step a little too hard into a puddle and accidentally splash your pants, slightly dirtying them. Riddle turns when he hears your grumble, and you prepare yourself for a scolding. You won’t hold it against him; it was your fault for being careless.

Instead, Riddle only shakes his head gently, before asking if you’d like to stop at Ramshackle to change before you two arrive at the library.

Your surprise forces you to take a moment and just look at him. So far he’s come from the person he was only a couple months ago. You feel strangely sentimental, so you reach out to touch his shoulder, intending to thank him.

As soon as you make contact with him, the world around you shifts, brown and orange leaves being traded for the bright green of spring.

You sit under a pagoda tree, the wind gently blowing the pages of your novel. It’s strange - you’re seeing things as yourself, but you’re not in control. It’s as though you’re replaying the memory of someone else. At the sound of someone’s voice, ‘you’ look up. It’s there that you spot familiar red hair; it forms a stark contrast to the vegetation around you.

He’s not alone, either. In Riddle’s arms is a small baby, with identical hair to who you presume is his father. It’s a striking image - Riddle with his child. He’s noticeably older; if you had to guess, he seems to be in his late twenties.

“MC? Sorry to bother, but he’s been refusing to eat today. I checked our parenting books thrice, but I haven’t found any suitable solutions. I thought you might know how to help him.”

“That’s okay,” you hear your voice say. “How is our little guy doing?”

Riddle passes the baby to you, and you finally take notice of his other features; this child has the same colour eyes as you, and a similarly shaped nose.

You then catch a glimpse of the ring sparking on your left hand, and the other on Riddle’s.

“Hmm,” you’re vision-self says. “Let’s go back home, I’ll try to see what’s bothering him.”

“Alright, dear. I’ll start on dinner,” older-Riddle replies.

He takes your hand and helps you up, before you walk back toward the house in the distance, your hand still in his.

When the greens turn to orange, you blink, finding Riddle looking at you. You’re back at NRC.

“Are you alright, prefect? You seem distracted.”

“I’m okay, Riddle. I just…never mind. Let’s get going.”

You decide not to tell him about your strange…Dream? Vision? It all seemed so real…you could smell the tree sap and feel the breeze flow against your skin. You held a baby. Your baby…with Riddle? The two of you were older, but would it really be possible for it to truly be your future? That seemed ridiculous. Then again, you thought the same thing about magic a few months ago.

You resolve to keep this strange occurrence to yourself until you can figure out what happened. It’s hard to look at Riddle, having now seen the two of you married and with a child together. You’re more flustered than usual. Was this just some kind of daydream projection of your fantasies about him? You weren’t even really sure you could say you have a ‘crush’ on him - after all, you’ve only recently begun getting close. Not that you haven’t thought of him that way at all but-

You’re sure Riddle takes notice of your strange behaviour throughout your study session but, thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it.

ii. dizzying dreams and endless nights; leona kingscholar

You’d fought Leona hard to get where you are now - on the left side of his bed, with Grim sleeping at the base. You’re exhausted with everything going on with Azul (hopefully) temporarily taking your dorm, but it’s hard to sleep with how worried you are about the situation.

Leona’s room is dim, moonlight cascading over the silk sheets. You can barely make out his form, curled up in the blankets and turned away from you.

You don’t want to disturb the sleeping lion, but he happens to be hogging the entire blanket. You suppose you should’ve known, but it wasn’t as though you had time to take anything from Ramshackle.

When the chill becomes too much to ignore, you try to tug part of the blanket away from him. This causes Leona to roll over, arm suddenly falling around your back.

You’re hit with another wave of blurry vision as the moon melts into the sun.

“Morning,” you hear a voice, your voice, say to him. Your tone is playful and lightheartedly chastising. You can feel his arms wrapped snuggly around you.

It’s happening again, the same as with Riddle. You’re seeing things from your own eyes, but you’re not in control.

A groan comes from behind you, Leona shuffling his position but refusing to open his eyes. His bare legs brush yours under the covers. “Too early. Go back to sleep.” He pulls you closer into his chest.

‘You’ laugh gently, turning around in his arms so you’re now face to face. “You promised the queen we would attend this banquet. Especially after we missed the last one.”

He looks older here too, but as gorgeous as ever. Despite just waking up, Leona’s dark hair falls perfectly around his face. The room is different than his one at school; it’s still a bedroom, but it looks as though you’re back in the castle of Sunset Savanna.

Leona finally opens his eyes, looking at you with a heavy gaze before flipping you below him. His arms hold him straight above you, looking down on you lying prone on the bed. “Hmph.” He leans in close until your lips are only millimetres apart. “We have some time, don’t we?”

You’re left staring into those piercing green eyes, entranced by them being closer than ever.

With that, he leans in completely, lips brushing over your own as he begins to kiss you. The longer it goes, the more ravenous he becomes, more and more greedy for the taste of your lips.

When the sunlight fades to moonlight, you’re left embarrassed. That was - so much worse than with Riddle?! Ugh, it’s so awkward with Leona sleeping beside you now, like you’ve violated some kind of rule by thinking of him that way.

You’re too afraid to even consider the possibility of it being some kind of dream. It came on so suddenly, but you hadn’t been asleep. The whole thing seemed so real, too elaborate for a simple dream. No, it had to be more than that - some kind of vision - but how could that be true? And what did that mean about your vision with Riddle? Surely they couldn’t both be correct.

You’d intended on ignoring it before, but with Leona’s vision, that seemed futile. Perhaps the staff would have some answers for you…

iii. seashells shimmer in the forever sea; azul ashengrotto

Azul isn’t one for touching, and this time neither are you. Ever since the Crowley’s theory about alternate universes and rips in time since you’ve travelled worlds, you’ve decided it’s best to stay away from touching too many people. It was…interesting, to see a possible future with Riddle and Leona, but it’s certainly left you ambivalent. It’s a bit difficult not to avoid them when your mind drifts to your ‘visions’ while in their vicinity.

Riddle is kind enough to ignore your sudden shyness, but Leona has openly called you out on how flustered you get around him. He seems both confused and amused about the development, and his smugness is too much to handle sometimes.

Fortunately for you, Leona doesn’t hang around the Mostro Lounge much, making it the perfect place for you to avoid him. You try to force Ace and Deuce to come with you and study there, but the two have been reluctant considering their previous encounters with the twins while trying to get Azul’s picture.

That means you’re left to go alone, sometimes. Well, alone except for Grim. He never leaves you hanging as long as you agree to buy him food. Just like today, where he sits passed out across the other side of the booth, having eaten himself into a food coma.

You try to return to your homework, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Azul staring at you from the staff area. When you make eye contact, he only waves, smile dripped in plasticity. When you don’t clue in, he walks toward your table, eventually taking a seat across from you, beside Grim.

“Hello, Prefect,” he says.

“Azul.”

Unlike Riddle - and even to some extent, Leona - you haven’t really gotten close to Azul after his overblot. He doesn’t exactly want you to, it seems.

“I noticed you’ve been frequenting the Lounge quite frequently as of late - I just wanted to thank you, for being a dedicated patron.”

“I’m not doing it for you, but you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Ah yes, I presumed. So, who are you doing it for?”

Your mind snaps to thoughts of you and Leona in the future, his arms around you in his bed-

“Nothing. No one. Do you need something, Azul?”

Despite your attempt at neutrality, Azul must see something on your face as you attempt to rid your mind of your vision of Leona. He leans in a bit, curious to observe you.

You begin packing up your things, too distracted to continue studying.

“No need to leave on my account,” he says.

“It’s not.”

He stands at the same time as you, presumably planning to head back to his office. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t noticed Grim migrate to his place sleeping on the floor. When you take a step forward and trip, Azul is, tragically, directly in front of you.

Your arms reach out instinctively, but instead of stabilizing yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders, the force of your fall knocks the both of you over.

As soon as you make contact with him, your vision swirls into another world full of beautiful blues.

The coral sea is even more breathtaking than you remember. You’ve only been a couple times, but the drastic differences between the land and ocean always manage to stun you. The water is so clear that it practically glitters as you wave your hands through it, feeling the water pass refreshingly across your smooth skin.

You’ve never been to this specific place before (presumably, it doesn’t exist yet), but it’s clear what it is: a restaurant. If the octopus logo has anything to do with it, clearly it’s Azul’s. It wasn’t too surprising to you that he would have more restaurants open in the future, but you weren’t sure what you were doing here. If the pattern followed, it seemed inevitable that you and Azul would be…romantically-involved in this timeline, but that just didn’t seem possible.

At least you had befriended Riddle and Leona to an extent - Azul looked down on your existence as a magicless person, seemingly entirely apathetic about you in general. You had to admit, the feelings were mutual considering his treatment of you and your friends.

You feel ‘yourself’ look around the restaurant, before heading back into the staff area. You knock on the door to an office, and Azul opens it with a smile.

He, too, is older. His face has matured a bit and he also wears his hair a bit longer. Azul still has his grey suit, though.

“Hello, MC. Done for the day?”

“I guess so, boss,” your voice replied cheekily. Boss?? Why would your future self ever work for-

“Hmm, I may have more tasks for you, why don’t you come in~”

With that, future-Azul takes your hand and tugs you into his office. On his desk sits several picture frames; one of his parents and one of his wedding. You happened to spot yourself in the second one.

It’s a bit jarring to see; you and Azul posed together, dressed up in such fancy clothing. His arm sits around your shoulder, and yours around his waist. Before this, the two of you have never even shook hands.

You hear yourself giggling, cornering Azul against the wall as soon as he closes the door and bringing your arms around his neck to kiss him.

You can already feel the dread forming; you definitely won’t be able to spend time at the Mostro Lounge after this…

As the two of you pull away, Azul starts talking about a reunion for your graduating class at NRC.

“I told them maybe - with the new branch of our restaurant opening, we may wish to stay back. Then again, it could be a great opportunity to network for us. What do you think, dear?”

Before you can hear your reply, the world fades back into the familiar lighting of the Mostro Lounge.

A groaning Azul is beneath you, having (unfortunately for him) broken your fall.

You utter a quiet ‘sorry!’ as you get off of him, still a bit flustered from your vision.

He gets up, dusting himself off. Thankfully, the two of you are in a rather secluded area of the place, so no one was there to witness your embarrassment.

Azul can no longer maintain the facade of kind gentleman as he turns back to you, voice dripping with passive aggressiveness.

“I would prefer if you refrained from touching me in the future. Thank you.”

With that, he gets up and leaves. You shake your head - how could there possibly be any timeline where you’ve married him?

iv. jaded jewels shine, awaken from slumber; jamil viper

While helping out with the VDC, you’ve had time to get close to Jamil. Much closer, in fact, than with any of the others you’ve had visions of before. Now you’ve avoided touching him for a whole other reason - you’re scared you won’t have a vision.

Spending time with Jamil has made you realize things you’d never thought about him before - his handsomeness, intelligence, and talent. You’ve developed a bit of a crush on him, considering how much you admire him.

However, you have no idea how he feels. Jamil has never been one to express his feelings so outwardly, but you can’t get a read on him at all. He’s been polite with you, but he’s treated you basically the same as everyone else.

Your attempts at getting closer to him have been rather unsuccessful - the group is so busy practicing, everyone’s been way too exhausted to really do anything.

You manage to get a moment alone at Ramshackle when the rest of the boys have gone to sleep, and you find Jamil sitting out on the porch alone.

“Hey,” you say. “Mind if I join you?”

Jamil turns to look at you before nodding his head. You take a seat beside him, following his gaze to the stars. The sky is dark but the moon casts a glow on him, making Jamil look beautiful under the light.

“What are you thinking about?”

He hums for a moment before replying, “What I’m always thinking about - how things will just go back to normal again after the end of the VDC.”

You don’t really know what to say; his fears seem inevitable, no matter how much you want to comfort him. “I’m sorry…I can’t understand what it’s like for you, but…what if you could still have some kind of happiness in your life?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…you could still find love?”

“Find love? You think that’s what I care about?” Jamil’s tone is bitter, but his voice never rises. “Sorry, but you’re awfully naive. Things like love won’t make my life better. It’ll only complicate things.”

“I-I understand.”

When your voice shakes, Jamil finally looks up at you, sighing when he spots your watery eyes.

“Prefect, relax. I’m not angry at you. It’s just a frustrating situation for me, I’m sure you know. I don’t have time to think about love. I just need to focus on myself.”

With that, he pats your shoulder before standing up, leaving you alone to stare at the night sky. Jamil hadn’t even realized you were trying to confess to him, and you felt terrible for even trying to bring it up. Of course he wouldn’t be able to think about something like your stupid little crush - you feel so silly for even bringing it up, you should’ve known better since you know all about his circumstances.

It was then you realized - Jamil had touched you for the first time. He touched you and nothing happened.

The first one you’d been seriously interested in, and there seemed to be no future for the two of you.

Was it possible you’d already messed up this timeline, making it impossible for that future with him to occur? The whole thing made your head spin and your heart ache.

v. swept into spotlights, doused in delicacy; vil schoenheit

Vil had been a surprising comfort in the wake of your unrequited crush on Jamil. The two of you had gotten closer after VDC, and Vil had a way of pulling honesty out of you. It had only taken him a couple days of observing your awkwardness to guess at the situation.

He’d been a shoulder to cry on, both literally and figuratively. There’d been a moment when he first pulled you into his arms that you’d wondered - hoped - that he might be a possibility in your future, but alas, no vision. It was a bit disappointing but you knew it was wrong to feel too badly; it would be greedy of you to desire a connection with so many knowing you could only end up with one.

Vil became a friend - someone you could rely on, someone who could make you laugh, and someone who couldn’t break your heart.

Even when you would start to feel something more than platonic for him, you had to push it away. He was certainly gorgeous and talented and perfect…but he wouldn’t be that for you. He couldn’t, apparently, and maybe he wouldn’t want to either.

Vil was more than just a fellow student - he was an actor, a model, a celebrity - someone too far to reach. Even if you had a vision with him, would it matter?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Vil’s hand on your cheek, turning your face to get the correct angle to apply your eyeliner; he’d insisted you get dressed up with him and Rook to go out tonight.

“Move onto the bed,” Vil says.

You stand from the chair in front of his vanity and move hesitantly toward his bed. His silky sheets look perfect - you don’t want to ruin them. Looking back at him, Vil rolls his eyes and gently pushes you toward the bed until you lay back.

You’re left staring up at him on your back, while he sits above you, applying the rest of his products on your face. He’s so close to you, his luscious golden hair almost tickles your face. His pretty purple eyes don’t focus on your own, following his makeup brush.

He looks cute like this, concentrating hard to perfect your makeup. He bites his lip gently, drawing your attention to his pretty mouth, shining with the pink gloss he’d applied earlier.

When he leans away to pick up the blush, you mistakenly think he’s finished and try to sit up. At the same time that you rise, Vil turns back to face you. The timing coincides into an accidental and brief meeting of your lips.

It takes a second for you to realize that the dizziness your feel isn’t due to your racing heart, but the sudden appearance of another vision.

The lights flash, bright and blinding. The sharp clicks of cameras obnoxiously disrupt the music heard softly on the street from nearby restaurants and clubs.

You’re rushing away with Vil, hand in hand as he pulls you toward a black limo waiting up ahead. You nearly stumble, but Vil is quick to stabilize you.

Once the two of you escape the paparazzi, you’re left sitting side by side in the backseat of the limo, both breathing heavily. Vil gives the driver instructions to return back to his penthouse.

He turns to you. “Are you okay, darling?”

You feel yourself nod in affirmation, taking ahold of his hand again. He squeezes back.

“I’m sorry they’ve ruined another date. I know it’s hard for you not to have much privacy, but it seems no matter what I do, they find us.” He strokes your hand with his thumb.

“It’s okay, Vil. I knew what I was getting into, dating a celebrity and all that.”

He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Still, they shouldn’t bother us. I may be a celebrity, but you aren’t. You deserve privacy.” He sighs gently. “Has this…impacted our previous discussion?”

You look back up at him. You assume based on past visions that he’s much older now, but he’s kept his youthful and gorgeous look. Even now, his purple eyes make your heart flutter embarrassingly.

“Of course not. I want us to have kids together. You’ll be the best dad and protect them from all this. I know it.”

He kisses you on the lips this time just as your vision begins to end.

Vil snaps his fingers over you as you come too, rolling his eyes.

“I know my lips are practically intoxicating, but did you really get that worked up over an accidental peck between friends?”

Your face becomes hot at Vil’s statement, embarrassment setting in. He doesn’t know how right he is.

“Ah, sorry. I got…distracted.”

Vil laughs gently. “Why? Thinking of more of my kisses? They’ll cost you~”

When you stammer in response, he just ruffles your hair gently.

“I’m just teasing you.”

You stare at him for a moment before speaking. “I don’t think we can do each other’s makeup platonically anymore.” If it ever was, that is.

Vil rolls his eyes dramatically again.

vi. hidden in shadows, warmth comes in waves; idia shroud

The incident with Vil leaves you even more confused than before. It makes you wonder…if just touching isn’t always enough to have a vision, does that mean a future where you end up with Jamil is still possible? You don’t even want to hope, knowing the heartache he’d unknowingly caused you before.

And Vil…having a vision about him makes this complicated. When it was just lingering thoughts you could push to the side of your mind, your growing infatuation with him was easy to ignore. Actually seeing your future with him, has made your heart swell and ache at the same time.

You don’t exactly choose to become friends with Idia, it just kind of happens. Just like the previous situations where you’d attempted to avoid the star of your latest vision, Idia is someone who seems like a good choice to help you stay away from them. He isn’t good friends with Jamil or Vil (or frankly anyone). Incidentally, the two of you become friends after a small argument over an anime (the only topic that allows Idia to temporarily overcome his social anxiety just to disagree with you), and you begin to hang out occasionally.

The more your old friends hang out with the VDC group, the more you begin to make excuses and go play video games with Idia and Ortho.

It feels strangely easy, spending time with Idia. You never have to pretend, and with your shared interests, conversation comes naturally. Once you’ve spent enough time around him, he feels much more comfortable around you, willing to share his (strong) thoughts and opinions on everything.

Idia is very…different than you would’ve guessed before you knew him well. While he can be rude, you find it more funny than offensive, and it’s pretty fun to banter with him. His room holds small glimpses into his true personality; video games he loves, posters of his favourite characters. His passion for these things is clear as day.

Sitting on Idia’s couch, you’re playing against him and Ortho in Super Smash Bros. Ortho immediately claimed Kirby, proceeding to destroy the both of you multiple times until he emerged as the winner.

Despite the loss, both you and Idia can’t help but smile. Ortho makes a celebratory noise, before turning back to you.

“MC, we are about to encounter another rip in the time continuum,” Ortho says. “I’m so excited, do you think it will finally be my big brother’s turn to earn your love?”

“What?” you and Idia say for different reasons.

“How do you know about that?

“Earn their love??”

“It’s part of my programming to monitor all things involving space and time.”

“Huh. Okay.”

You suppose it’s true, you’ve never really touched Idia before. The two of you got along like best friends; it wasn’t so much of a stretch to say you could end up having a future together. You hadn’t thought about it much, in light of recent events.

“Usually you’re the only one able to see, but since Idia’s here, why don’t I show him too!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ortho,” Idia says.

“I think it will be good for you, brother! Don’t worry, I’ll give the both of you some privacy to see your future. It’s approaching in three, two-”

When his countdown reaches one, Ortho plops your hand on top of Idia, making your vision fade once again.

The Island of Woe is familiar to you by now, after everything that went down with Idia. The architecture remains impersonal; the uniformity of the blank steel walls reminds you of a maze. The thought had unsettled you, the last time you visited.

Strangely enough, you don’t feel that same sense of anxiety and claustrophobia in this vision. You’re strangely calm; it wouldn’t be crazy to assume that exposure and familiarity has dulled these feelings.

The scene is devastatingly unsurprising. You suppose you’d always known what Idia’s future would be; what all his ancestors futures had been. That hadn’t lessened the spark of hope you’d been carrying that perhaps things might turn out differently than he believed.

You had a bad habit of that: false hope for Jamil, false hope for Idia. It didn’t truly do anyone any good, no matter how much you wished it to.

You’re in Idia’s room. Aside from its size and how nice it is, the decor is a clear giveaway. The posters that line the walls aren’t from media you recognize, so it must be future content, but it’s all in line with Idia’s current tastes. You’re happy he has that, at least. You even catch a glimpse of a couple of his old posters from NRC rolled up in his closet. A few pieces even stand out, things that seem much more suited to your taste than his own.

A familiar head of blue hair wanders into the room.

“Hey MC.”

“Hi Idia,” you feel your lips gently pull up in the corners. Despite ‘your’ outward expression in the vision, you feel a small twinge of pain in your chest.

Idia’s entrance into his room (your room?) lets you take a close look at him. Even ten or so years later, it seems he hasn’t been able to rid himself of his eye bags. Even so, you still think he looks nice, his vibrant hair illuminating his pretty face. He’s cute, smiling back at you.

“Sorry I’m back late again. There’s been so many problems with the new system update, even Ortho can’t handle it himself.” Idia’s expression drops a little.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

Idia comes to sit beside you on the bed, head turning toward you. “Is it though? Stuck down here with me, and I can’t even be by your side half the time. I doubt this is the life you- anyone would dream of.”

“I miss you, of course I do. But I chose this life. I chose you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”

The tears well in your eyes before you can stop them, and Idia’s panic only rises once he notices.

“Gah!! No, MC, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that. Sevens, I’m so stupid.” Idia awkwardly pulls you into his arms, and you begin wipe your tears onto his shoulder as you settle down.

“Sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me,” you sniffle.

“Don’t apologize, it was my fault. I don’t know why, every time I try to tell you how I feel, it always just comes out wrong. I try to tell you that I love you, that you deserve better than to be stuck here with me, and it comes out like that.”

“Idia…I know what you meant, it just took me by surprise to hear those words.”

“Loving you is supposed to be the one thing I can do to make your life here better, and I can’t even do it right.”

“Says who? Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”

“I made you cry, MC! Something is wrong with me…”Idia’s cheeks flush pink as he stares at his feet.

You want to comfort him, to tell him that it doesn’t matter, but you quickly feel yourself being pulled away. You’ve never wished more than to have a few more moments in a vision.

The room remains silent for a minute after the vision ends, the both of you trying to process what had happened.

“Idia…” you say, trying to bridge the gap between you, but not exactly knowing how.

“Maybe- I uh - maybe you should leave?” Idia says sheepishly.

“Leave? What did I do?” you say, feeling a bit hurt by his suddenly rejection.

“Nothing! I just- I’m sorry, I need some time. I can’t speak right now, I need to be alone.” Idia is clearly panicked, so you follow his brother to the exit.

“Sorry, MC,” Ortho says, opening the door for you. “Sometimes Idia gets overwhelmed in situations like this. Please, give him time and…please don’t give up on him like everyone else does.”

vii. sun and moon, forever in orbit; malleus draconia

You’ve known Malleus as long as you’ve known Riddle, but despite your blooming friendship, you’ve never had the chance to touch him before. The fae always seemed to prefer to keep his distance when visiting you at Ramshackle; close enough to talk, too far to touch.

That all changes when you finally agree to join the gargoyle studies club. It’s not as though you’d purposefully avoided it before, there’d just always been too much going on to really think about joining any of the clubs.

With Idia shutting you out, you were in dire need of a new hobby that would allow you to finally avoid thinking about what had gone down with him in the days before.

When Malleus finally strolls by Ramshackle again, you’re able to inform him of your intention to join his club.

It’s a remarkable thing, having stunned the fae prince into momentary silence at your request. He furrows his brow before replying.

“I do hope you aren’t making a joke at my expense, prefect. That would be rather cruel of you.”

You wave away his words, telling him that you’re entirely serious. He looks you up and down for a moment before a playful grin pulls at his lips.

“I suppose I will see you in our meeting on thursday, then. Please, don’t be late. We have much to see.”

Weekly meetings become bi-weekly, and soon you’re meeting up with Malleus almost daily. Since it’s only the two of you in the club, you take certain liberties when it comes to subject matter. You agree to let Malleus show you some ruins and he, in turn, agrees to watch the bachelor with you.

You don’t even like the show, but Malleus’ reactions are the real entertainment. He’s surprisingly sassy and opinionated about all the drama, although he tends to get confused on ‘human customs’ as he so puts it.

“Why won’t he make a choice? It’s clear who he truly desires,” Malleus asks one day, sitting on Ramshackle’s beat up couch as you watch the reality show together on your laptop.

“I don’t know, the guys on this show are always like this. They want to keep around as many options as possible until they’re forced to choose,” you mumble, mouth full of popcorn.

“Human men are fickle.”

You laugh. “Fae aren’t?”

He takes a moment to answer. “Some. Not dragon fae. Once we choose a person to love, we give everything to them, and expect the same in return.”

You don’t know how to reply to that, so you turn back to the screen. Throughout the rest of the episode, you can feel Malleus’ gaze flicker between yourself and the show, not fully invested like you are.

You’re not oblivious to his hints. It’s clear that things between you are become more than friendly, but it’s difficult to know how you feel about it.

On one hand, Malleus has always felt strangely charming to you, despite how he often came off to others. There was something about him, or perhaps just the sum of his parts that came together perfectly to make him into a wonderful being.

Spending time together and getting close felt nice, but you were far too used to this pattern to not feel worried about some kind of impending doom. It seemed every time you had a nice friendship, things would fall apart as soon as you found out about your future together.

Even when pleasant, the strangeness of the experience makes it uncomfortable to be around them again. You’ve felt bad avoiding your friends, but there isn’t much you can do to change your feelings.

Even worse - what if your vision with Malleus isn’t positive? After what you saw with Idia, the fear lingers in your mind.

Once you opened the gate, questions begun to flood your brain. What would a future be like with Malleus? Would that even be possible? Would you be his consort? Would a relationship between a human and fae be accepted? Would you be able to handle it? The anxieties were endless.

You think about telling him about everything. About Riddle, Leona…but how would he react? You tell yourself that it’s better if he doesn’t know. At least not until after.

He’s the first one you touch on purpose; you have to know.

A casual stroll around Ramshackle leads to the purposeful brushing of fingers, and you’re pulled into a familiar haze.

You’ve never been to Briar Valley, but you know with certainty that your vision takes place there.

The hall you sit in is long, gold trims running along the walls. The black dragon heraldry mounted above the fireplace at the end of the room looks more expensive than anything you’ve seen in your life.

Two wide doors swing open, and Malleus finally enters the room. He isn’t alone.

A small black shape zooms past his legs, plopping itself in front of you.

“Daddy and I picked you flowers from the garden!”

The blur isn’t some shadow, but instead a small child. Five or six, if you had to guess. If her words didn’t give away her parentage, the small, stubby horns peaking out from the top of her head of dark hair certainly told you this was Malleus’ daughter.

“Thank you, sweetie.” You smile at her, taking the flowers she drops in your hand. There’s still some dirt and roots attached, but she’s so adorable, you truly don’t mind.

“Can Uncle Silver take me horseback ridding today?” she asks you. “Daddy said it’s okay with him if it’s okay with you.” She blinks at you sweetly.

“Alright, I suppose. Just be careful, dear,” you reply.

“I have the best parents in all the kingdoms!” she shouted, running along to her chambers to get ready, leaving only you in Malleus in the room.

“She’s so lively today,” you comment, looking up at him.

“Indeed,” he replies, coming to rest beside you. “You look beautiful, my love.”

“And you, my king.”

The two of you share a kiss. It’s all so - dizzying. It’s not unexpected to have a child with Malleus - you had one with Riddle, but this is different. This child is older, she knows you, she feels so real.

He pulls away to smile at you. “I have a gift for you.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Need there be one for me to celebrate my wonderful spouse?”

“I suppose not. Thank you, Malleus. No matter how many gifts you give, I will treasure them all.”

He pulls out a box from his pocket, asking you to turn around. You feel him guide a cold band around your neck, clasping it in the back. He then places a small, handheld mirror in your hands, urging you to look.

The necklace he’s given you is beyond stunning. It’s silver, with a dazzling gemstone in the middle. You don’t even want to ponder how much it must’ve cost.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

It’s strange - seeing yourself much older when Malleus looks the same. It unsettles you more than you’d like to admit. It’s one thing to know you’ll age at different rates and another to see it with your own eyes.

This must be something on your mind in the future as well, because of the next thing you decide to ask Malleus.

“Will I see her grow up? For me, it feels like she’s been young forever. I love it and yet…I want to see more of her life than just this.”

He doesn’t ask who you’re referring to. “You will. You’ll see most. I was practicing mature by my eighty-first birthday.”

You sigh. “I may not even get that far. I’m healthy now, but who knows. The curses of being human…”

He tilts your chin to face him. “It is not a curse to me, my love. I chose you, and I would again.”

There’s infinitely more to discuss, but you already feel yourself slipping away.

You come to from the vision mid walk. Malleus is unaffected, seemingly still in the middle of one of his explanations behind the rich history of one of gargoyles you’d just passed by.

When he notices your silence and turns to ask if you’re alright, you have no response for him.

It seems almost selfish, for you to choose him. Why- why did there need to be so many things wrong? Why did you have to be human, to pain him and your future children by leaving them behind so early?

The joy and the pain - would it all truly be worth it? Or would it be better for it to have never happened?

Malleus looks at you with concern, wiping the tears suddenly cascading down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, my child of man?”

Everything and nothing, you want to tell him.

viii. all things end, all that we intend; conclusion

Seven beautiful souls, all potential endings. Every future you glimpsed has it’s own charms, and it’s own poisons.

Which future will you choose? One of them? Or perhaps…another?

#pls ignore any mistakes i’m too tired to proofread #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twst #twisted wonderland

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pollyanna-nana · 6 months

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One of the most tragic and compelling aspects of Dunmeshi, to me, is that we’ll probably never know (unless Kui tells us lol) how Delgal actually felt about Thistle. I’ve seen people say that he genuinely cared for him as a brother and his journey to the surface was to save him from his madness as much as it was his people. I’ve seen people say that he saw Thistle as nothing more than a fancy accessory or tool that ended up going astray. Others I’ve seen (and personally agree with) say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. But honestly, I think any one of these interpretations has the potential to be correct… and that’s just heartbreaking.

After all, Delgal is dead. Like, dead-dead. The very first chapter of the manga starts with his spirit leaving this mortal coil, taking that answer with him. And…

How he talks about Thistle here… it’s interesting. He does not ask for him to be talked down, or captured or imprisoned, but instead “defeated”. Which Mithrun interprets as asking for his death… which is reasonable, because that’s likely how the vast majority of adventurers interpreted his words, too. Obviously as he was crumbling to dust he probably didn’t have the capacity to be particularly verbose or explain the complex backstory to how the kingdom ended up this way, but the effect is the same no matter how he may have felt with it. He asked for Thistle to be killed.

But… even in situations where he wasn’t under any such time limit to explain what was going on, he still seemed not to. Most glaringly:

Yaad seemingly has no idea that it was Delgal’s fault that Thistle sought the demon’s power. Obviously he couldn’t talk to him about it because Thistle was, uh, a little out there by that point, but why didn’t Delgal explain? Was he embarrassed? Mournful? Couldn’t find the words?

Delgal was scared of dying. He wanted prosperity at any cost, and how could Thistle possibly refuse? Did he even realize that what he was the one who pushed his own brother— One who basically helped raise him despite being a child himself, and in many ways is still a child— down this path? Or was it like watching an overzealous employee misinterpret directions?

The way Yaad describes things here makes it sound like Thistle simply dug too deep in his studies and fell into madness, but we know that’s not true. Delgal didn’t “suggest” he learn magic, he wanted a mage who could help himself and his people defy death, which he admits to Thistle openly:

So, why? Why not tell his grandson, at least, the truth of the matter? Did he worry it might make the remaining residents more likely to upset Thistle, and therefore suffer the consequences? Did he just not care? For what it’s worth though, Yaad does suspect the truth from Delgal’s behavior.

He “always blamed himself” for his descent into the dark arts. This is just Yaad’s observation, and that’s without knowing that it was quite literally Delgal’s fault Thistle went down this path. So, why? Why was it all kept a secret?

Of course, this made things ripe for the winged lion to manipulate to its advantage. Clearly despite knowing he’d pushed him into using it, Delgal still thought the lion was a force of good that was misused by Thistle as a result of his madness. His face in that last panel is particularly haunting. He looks terrible, gaunt and pale with overgrown hair and missing teeth. Had he gone mad, with grief and sorrow, as well?

Could he no longer see Thistle the way he did when they were younger? No one can ask him, because he died long before the story even began.

To go back to the original question, well, how did Delgal see Thistle? None of the previous points make a definitive answer any clearer, and I think that’s just brilliant. And so, so tragic.

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luveline · 5 months

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hi! i just remembered a scene from friends where chandler says to monica it's ok she's high maintenance cause he likes maintaining her and i think this is soooo spencer and bombshell!reader coded. you're ok with writing this as a request? love u jadey

ty (ily)!! fem!reader

Spencer’s feet ache dully with each step he takes, but you have your hand in his, and you’re pulling him along with a smile. Your smile could cure anything, he thinks stupidly. It’s completely outside of his beliefs, goes against every book on medicine he’s ever read.

“Why are you frowning?” you ask, swinging his hand as you turn the corner together.

“I’m not.”

You step closer, arm stuck to his arm, nearly one body walking together against the summer breeze. “You’re frowning, Spence. You have a very obvious pout. It is so so cute.” You lean in to kiss him quickly, his heart turning to a pitter-patter under his ribs.

“I’m tired,” he explains, not wanting you to think his bad mood has anything to do with you.

“You’ve had a long day, that’s why. When we get back to your place I’ll give you an incredible foot massage and everything will be okay again.”

“I don’t want a foot massage. My feet don’t even hurt,” he lies.

“Don’t bother.” You untangle your fingers from his and wave him away. “I know all your tells, baby boy,” —he laughs through a wrinkled nose— “nothing gets past me.”

“Why’d you choose a dry cleaners so far from your apartment?” he asks. You could’ve picked the one beside work, which has a yellow pages worth of fantastic reviews. The one second closest to his place is new but raved about at length. This dry cleaners is nearly twenty-five blocks away.

“They do things exactly how I like it, I guess. I never have to worry about it when I give them my best clothes, and it’s kind of expensive if they were to accidentally ruin something, right?” You have expensive taste; you like things sturdy, fitted, and fashionable.

“Do you think I should get someone to do my laundry?” he asks.

“You can afford it. But maybe not. There’s nothing wrong with your own washing machine and a steamer.” You side eye him carefully. “Maybe I’m over the top.”

“You’re high maintenance,” he agrees. “Is it expensive, getting your clothes dry cleaned all the time? I could pay for that.”

“What? Why would you pay for it?”

“‘Cos we’re together?” He’s more worried than dry about it. “I’d like to pay for your manicures and your hair, too, but I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“And I won’t… s’kind of nice you want to though. Really nice, um.” You’re blinking funny. “I think that’s more of a husband thing. You really want to pay for me to get manicures?”

Spencer pays for lots of your stuff because he loves you. Good food mostly, but treats, clothes, anything he might think you’re interested in, actually. He likes to spoil you. You tend to spoil him back, if not with money then affection. “I like maintaining you.”

You curl your arm through his. “That’s a funny way to say it.”

He laughs at your obvious delight. “I like taking care of you,” he admits. “You like being high maintenance, it makes you happy, and I like making you happy.”

“Thank you very much,” you say, softer now as your hand works up his neck and you turn his face to you, the sidewalk and the streetlines melting away under your warm touch. “You make me happier than you know.”

His cheeks turn pink. He doesn’t need to see himself to confirm. It’s a high statistical probability.

“Kiss?” you ask, voice still soft.

Spencer walks you back nearer to the side of a building and out of the way, his hands at your neck and waist as he leans down just a touch to close your gap. He acts selfishly, perhaps, taking your hand from his face in order to hold yours in both of his without anything in the way of it. He kisses, he breathes you in, his head tilting more heavily to the side as the kiss lengthens, lingers. You’re like a flower in his hand, blooming slowly under the effects of a little heat.

“What if you pay for my dry cleaning,” you begin, a smile evident in your voice though Spencer keeps his eyes closed. Tracing the hill of your cheek with his fingers just a moment longer. “And I pay for yours?”

Spencer thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t want anything from you, just you.”

“Well, what if I treat us to some Indian takeout tonight?” you ask. “Would you eat that? Or am I enough to sustain you, my love?”

He could enjoy being taken care of in turn, he thinks.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 11 months

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THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him.

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time.

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips.

he can’t be serious.

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly.

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice.

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week.

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it.

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him.

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could.

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package —

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt.

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit.

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards.

but no — he wanted you to wear it.

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?”

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too.

”— because you love me?”

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly.

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?”

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble —

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak —

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer.

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?”

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly.

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows.

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t.

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love.

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all.

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh.

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant.

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this…

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate.

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry.

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.”

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings.

it’s a perfect fit.

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit.

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves.

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?)

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses.

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together.

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer.

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear.

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected.

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.)

”… why aren’t you saying anything?”

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet.

he’s completely stunned.

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck.

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy.

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal.

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears.

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens.

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle.

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration.

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look.

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression.

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.”

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear.

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted.

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters.

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet.

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all.

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips.

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins.

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin.

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin.

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying.

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink.

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile.

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!”

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible.

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there.

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful —

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo #he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl #he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard.#just……. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree #im a firm believer in flustered satoru also…..#it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working #and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks #who said that.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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rogueddie · 8 months

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Hair Care T | 1,749 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is what makes you brave

Steve learnt early on that if he makes his hair all soft, fluffy and big, then girls would play with his hair. He's always loved having people touching his hair.

But after the Demogorgon, after he gets his act together? Suddenly, no one wants to touch his hair. No one comments on it, or even looks at it like they're so much as thinking about it.

And it is driving Steve insane.

"I can't just ask for it!" He complains. "That's weird and- and what if they take it the wrong way? What if I sound too weird or desperate?"

"I'm the wrong person for the weird complaint," Eddie points out. "And I still don't get the problem. What about Robin?"

Robin is convinced that all his little lines, trying to encourage attention towards his hair as subtly as he can, are all pick-up lines.

To be fair to her, she has only ever seen him using said lines when he's flirting. But they're supposed to be little hints, a nudge and a wink. Friendly- playful even.

But, because of that, he has a nasty feeling that she would take any hint or request about his hair as romantic. And the last thing Steve wants to do is make Robin uncomfortable.

"Ok, yeah, I see the problem there," Eddie hums, considering. "What about the kids? El and Max. They adore you and love playing with each others hair."

El had asked to play with his hair once.

She'd heard, somehow, that his hair is 'famous' in Hawkins and had wanted to see why. She encouraged Max to join her, even though she mostly ended up petting him like a dog.

Max had seemed to enjoy it more than El, but not by much, and the snickers from the other kids had been enough for him to refuse to let them "go again".

He's the babysitter, he needs at least some dignity.

"But did you like it?" Eddie presses.

"Well, yeah," Steve mumbles, snuffing his slipper on the carpet. "It was nice or whatever. Not worth the jabs though."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Didn't feel worth it."

"Hmm..." Eddie pauses again, frowning as he looks him over. "Well... what was it specifically about what they did that was so nice? Has anyone else done that for you?"

Tommy used to play with his hair constantly. He was a quick learner and, with how much Carol visibly and vocally enjoyed watching them, there wasn't any shame.

They both seemed to enjoy themselves more whenever they could convince Steve to sit on the floor, so Tommy could scratch at his head more effectively.

"Which..." Steve pauses, frowning. "In retrospect was probably some weird power play thing. Like, I was the king at school but a dog at home."

"Yikes."

"Yeah."

But they knew exactly what he liked and they were good at it.

Tommy knew that he loves the back of his ears scratched, likes the small strands at his neck tugged. He knew that Steve loved the feeling of fingers brushing his fringe back, especially when he'd get rough and push his head back a little with the motion.

They knew what he needed.

"Well... I could do that," Eddie suggests. "I mean... if you want. It's not like it would be a hardship."

"Really? You wouldn't be uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. As long as you're ok with it, it's all good."

"That- yeah. Yeah, I'm on with that."

That's how it starts.

Steve had sat on the floor, in front of the sofa where Eddie was sat. It reminded him of Tommy for a moment, but Eddie quickly brought him back to the moment with a hand on his shoulder.

"This alright for you?" He asked, squeezing gently when Steve nodded. "Alright. Just let me know if it's bad, too much or you want to stop."

"Okay."

He had thought that would be it, though. Moments when they hung out in private, a thing for them that no one else was allowed in on.

But Eddie starts playing with his hair. All the time.

If he can find an excuse, he abuses it. Even in Family Video, busy with people and customers lining up in front of Robin, right next to them. Eddie just... leans forward, reaches out and pushes his hair back.

He does it so casual, so out in the open, that- somehow- Robin is the only one who gives them a strange look.

On movie nights, he's started putting a pillow down on the floor between his feet. When Steve comes in with popcorn, Eddie gives it a pointed look and raises an eyebrow at him.

It's so much, so often. Steve loves it, has never been so happy for so long. It leaves him feeling high sometimes.

All good things, for him, come to an end though. And his comes in the form of Robin Buckley.

"I'm not saying I have a problem with any of it!" She clarifies, right off the bat. "If it's just a friendship thing, that's amazing. I love how happy you are, really, and I don't want that to go away, and I know-"

"Robs," Steve interrupts. "Slow down. I don't know what you're trying to say."

She stood, staring at him for a moment, seeming to vibrate with her need to speak, before finally blurting out-

"Are you and Eddie dating?"

"Wh- what? No, that's... no. Why do you, uhm, think that?"

"Steve," she whines. "I know about your hair lines, remember? One of them must have worked with how addicted he's got to yours."

"Oh, that... no, that's not what's happened. Those aren't lines, I just... I really like people playing with my hair."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Wait, that still sounds suspicious. He plays with your hair all the time because he knows how much you like it?"

"No one else was going to."

"Oh my god," she rolls her eyes, stepping closer so she lightly tug at his hair. "I would have been doing this all the time if I knew it was ok!"

"Oh, uh, sorry?"

"No apologies, just tell me when you started crushing on Munson."

"How-?"

"I know you, dingus. Apparently not as well as I had hoped I did, but I do. And you're gone on him. When. Did it start?"

The first time Steve realized that he was feeling more than 'friendship feelings' for Eddie was when he was eating at his new trailer.

Wayne had come home early and was surprised to see that Eddie had a guest over.

But Eddie was too busy jumping up, excited to introduce them, to notice.

"Wayne! This is Steve, I've told you about Steve, he's great," Eddie said. "Steve, this is my uncle, Wayne. He's amazing, don't worry, he doesn't bite."

Steve had quickly stood extending an arm, and introduced him properly. He made sure to add a quick 'sir' at the end.

Wayne had quickly dismissed the title, turning to Eddie with a fond look, and said, "what was it you called him? Pr-"

"Shut up," Eddie was fast to interrupt, hands waving around.

And Steve realized that he was feeling hope. He was filled with hope that Eddie had said what his uncle seemed to about to say.

He realized that he wanted Eddie to think of him as pretty. He wanted Eddie to find him so pretty that he told his uncle.

It was a warm feeling, fluttering through his stomach- a feeling that he is all too familiar with.

"I'm gagging," Robin says, monotone. "But that does help."

"Help? How?"

"Uh, because he's obviously into you too!"

"Robs, I don't know..."

"Come on, it'll be easy. He already likes you, so you don't have to try so hard. Just a little thing that lets him know you like him. One of your moves-"

"No, Robs... I'm sure that he likes me too, at least a little, that's not the problem."

"What is them?"

"I... I've never, like... been with a guy. What if I do it wrong?"

"Steve," Robin grabs both of his shoulders. "He likes you. All you have to be is yourself."

"I don't know if I c-"

"You can, and you will. We'll think of a plan that cannot fail, you'll put on your brave pants, and we'll kick this problems ass."

"My brave pants? It's brave face."

"No, I mean those pants that you're always saying make your ass look good. Those are your brave pants."

"... Ok, yeah, they are."

It doesn't take them long to settle in a plan. It's simple, easy. It shouldn't give Steve enough time to doubt himself.

Eddie arrives on time, knocking on the door at the exact time it turns four p.m.

"Hi!" Steve greets, wincing at how overenthusiastic he is. "Come in."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just... slow day. Too much energy. Come on, I made too much food earlier if you want some."

"You know I'll never turn down free food, Stevie."

Over dinner, Steve starts to finally relax. Eddie is, as always, easy to talk too.

When they step into the living room, Steve snatches the pillow off Eddie before he can put it on the floor and places it in Eddies lap instead.

"Oh, uh," Eddie stutters, eyebrows high, staring down at Steve who did not hesitate to rest his head on the pillow in his lap. "You- yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "You alright with this?"

"Yes- yeah, this- of course."

"Great!"

Steve stretches to the coffee table, handing Eddie the remote.

He doesn't pay attention to whatever Eddie puts on though. He can't stop thinking about how he's laying, how Eddie's hand feels so much more gentle in his hair.

Eventually, he turns so he's on his back. He catches Eddie's hand before he can pull away, waiting until Eddie looks him in the eye before pulling his hand close enough to kiss his palm.

But, instead of surprise, Eddie sighs. His shoulders drop, smiling wide- relieved.

"You're so pretty," Steve says, pushing through the confusion he feels at Eddies reaction. "And I, uh... I really like you, Ed."

"Yeah?" Eddies eyes scrunch with how wide his smile is, shifting his hand out of Steves hold so he can brush the back of his knuckles along his cheek. "Little ol' me?"

"Yeah. I'm- I mean, you're funny and you care... you're just... it's too soon to say love, I know, but-"

"I love you too."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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17020 · 3 months

Text

Vitamin deficiency had hit REN KAJI like a truck.

The sugary treats that sat in his pockets were constantly in his mouth, sometimes acting as replacements for nutritious foods. He had never given the side effects of living off of lollipops any thought, until his body began to show that it had had enough.

Kaji did not wonder why he had been feeling more fatigued after patrols, brushing it off as him not sleeping enough or just being tired of the same, monotonous routine. He also, did not pay any mind to the growing pains on his bones, and how his nails were easily breaking with every punch that he threw.

The one who did notice, though, was you.

Because it was not fun to hop into the shower after a long, tiring day, only to find platinum strands scattered all over the floor.

You were a bit puzzled as to why your apartment was suddenly covered in your boyfriend's hair. It did not take long for you to realize that something was wrong when you laid on top of your boyfriend on your sofa, his fingertips softly drawing circles on your back and giving you small scratches on accident.

Ren Kaji paid no mind to his health, which meant that you had to assume the role of his personal nurse, and it was no easy task.

Pills and capsules were an absolute no, as he straight up denied them as they were 'a total hassle'. Effervescents were your next choice, disguising them as soda and offering them to Kaji, earning a scowl in return as he shook his head in denial.

So when you stumbled across vitamin lollipops while inside the pharmacy, you knew you had hit the jackpot.

Every vitamin you could think of, stuffed inside your boyfriend's favorite treat. The packaging was identical to Kaji's usual lollipops, which was the cherry on top. You had a perfect plan, and in order for it to work, patience was to become your strongest virtue.

It was a slow start.

Every morning, you would offer the blond gremlin next to you a vitamin lollipop, even stuffing them in his pockets for him to grab when he's on patrol. He would take it from your hands with no issue whatsoever, being under the impression that they were the same as usual. His brows furrowed.

"'nother flavor?"

"Mhm. They brought back the cherry ones, and there's orange too."

"Oh. Cool."

Slowly but surely, you had turned into Kaji's personal lollipop dealer, with him shooting you texts asking you for more lollies. It took weeks for Kaji to fully 'return' to normal, if you could even call it that—your boyfriend was better than ever. Sure, the lollipops cost a pretty penny, but the shine on your boyfriend's radiant skin, strong nails and full set of hair made it all worth it.

One morning in particular, your boyfriend stared at you, his palm open and extended towards you.

"Need something, Ren?"

"You give me an orange lollipop every morning before I leave."

You chuckled at your boyfriend's subtle pout, "I ran out, Ren. I'll get some more today, alright?"

Kaji nodded before placing a quick peck on your forehead, heading out the door.

Who knew the perceptive Ren Kaji was so easy to condition and fool?

n. first time writing for winbre how r we feelin tonight

#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #kaji x reader #ren kaji x reader #kaji ren x reader #kaji x you #ren kaji x you #kaji ren x you #wind breaker x y/n #winbre x reader

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snaillock · 1 year

Note

would you do satosugu discovering their "friend" (both of them have a fatass crush on m!reader) is a teen dad, and just all of them chaotically taking care of a baby. (like those collage students raising a baby tiktoks?)

ok so technically i only write for blue lock buttttttttttt… i am more than willing to make an exception for this. this is also my favorite niche of satosugu fics so im super honored someone requested it from me

tags: male reader has a foster daughter bc hell yeah girl dads, unnamed child bc that's too much for me, reader is a sorcerer, found family but in a janked up kinda way, whipped satosugu, pre-hidden inventory so everyone is in high school in this this a long one yall

part two coming soon!

★ when assigned an extremely harsh mission, you find an orphaned child barely a year old within all the rumble. you soon found out her family was recently killed in the destruction. unsure of what would happen to her after this, you decided to take her as your own.

★ scared of any judgment, you didn’t tell anyone about her so only a few higher-ups were aware. luckily you were allowed to live off campus so you two could have more space and privacy.

★ however the physical effects of raising a kid all on your own at such a young age were certainly showing. you came to school visibly worn down, often falling asleep in the middle of class and taking more absences than usual.

★ the first people to notice, of course, were gojo and geto. as nosy as they were, they tried not to push it, knowing you had just come back from a really taxing mission. though they did get more and more suspicious whenever you didn’t let them visit your new place.

★ however one day, they did spot you out in public wearing a baby carrier with, of course, a baby they’d never seen before resting right inside. they immediately came up to you and bombarded you with multiple questions before you got them to chill out and explained everything.

★ wanting you to take some time off (and win you over), they offer to take care of her regularly. who were you to refuse? after all, it is free babysitting and you were already using up so much money hiring actual babysitters.

★ during their first babysitting job, you thanked them profusely before going back into your room and instantly falling asleep the moment your body hit your bed, taking a very well-deserved nap.

★ you see, gojo was already pretty hesitant about you having a kid around. this was before he took in megumi so he found basically any child gross and annoying. (though he’s somehow even more attracted to you now that you’re a dad.)

★ coughs dilf lover gojo i mean what?

★ so when gojo picked up your baby for the first time, she immediately cried when they made eye contact and he got so so personally offended that he started rethinking this whole babysitting thing.

★ the first thirty minutes or so of taking care of your kid went pretty okay. that was until she started crying again and neither of them knew why.

★ you see, these idiots have no idea how to care for a child.

★ they frantically tried to calm her down and figure out what was wrong without needing to wake you. they checked if she was hurt in any way, she definitely wasn’t hungry since they already fed her, nor did she need to be changed. gojo even called shoko to see if she could do anything.

★ when they eventually saw her crawling towards your room and sobbing right outside your door, hesitantly let her in to see her climb onto your bed and lay down with you, realizing she just missed you the whole time. that entire experience made them so exhausted that they almost climbed into bed with you. but when they saw the gratitude on your face after you woke up, it made it all worth it.

★ luckily the next few times they watched over her, babysitting got more and more easy as she grew used to them.

★ they start coming over so often to look after her that your place basically becomes their second home.

★ geto is in charge of doing her hair since the last time gojo attempted it, it was just a big mess of hair ties and ribbons. geto’s definitely not complaining since he loves to get her ready. in fact, geto does a lot of the responsible stuff when taking care of her since gojo, hmm what’s a nice way to put it, lacks a lot of the necessary skills.

★ oh yeah, remember what i said about gojo hating younger children? yeah, that completely changes as he spends more time with your daughter. he’s almost always playing with her or showing up with a brand new toy or stuffed animal just for her. he ends up loving her so so much and wants to be her cool fun dad.

★ unfortunately both of them are way too nice when it comes to disciplining her. they let her get away with so much. late bedtimes, too much tv, grabbing any treats she wants off the grocery store shelves. how can they not spoil such an adorable little girl like her!?

★ what’s also unfortunate is how they try to drag you into it.

“come on, y/n. let loose a little. cake for dinner does sound pretty appetizing right now.”

“come on. just let her watch ten more minutes before bed.” gojo lazed on the couch with her on his lap. “besides this cartoon is starting to get good.”

“come onnn… just let her buy it.” geto held up a sparkly pink dress you already told him she doesn’t need with his own sparkles in his eyes. “she’ll look so cute in it. i promise i’ll pay you back.”

★ their hearts explode whenever you’re affectionate with her. they love the way you gently rock her in your arms while humming a sweet lullaby, slowly lulling her to sleep. the way they see you kiss her forehead after placing her into the crib before quickly turning around and acting like they weren’t staring the whole time. they fall head over heels for you for probably the twentieth time by now since they met you but those times were definitely the hardest.

★ they’ve been in her life for a good while so when she begins talking more frequently, she starts calling them her papas as she does with you. gojo aka former “ugh kids are so gross and icky” feels his heart combusting whenever she calls him that and he owns that title proudly. meanwhile geto feels so endeared and honored that she sees him that way.

★ “we’re not the stepdads. we’re the dads that stepped up!” looking asses.💀

★ the secret of you having a kid doesn’t last for long since these two can’t keep quiet about it. they’re just way too happy and want to show her off. especially gojo who scrolls through 100s of photos of her while gushing about her to basically anyone who’ll listen. shoko and nanami are the most common targets whenever this happens.

★ he even ends up showing photos of you and your daughter napping together (that you had no idea he took), making you snatch his phone away in embarrassment.

★ whenever you guys go out on family dates to go to the beach or picnicking, geto always takes the time to dress her up with pretty hairstyles and cute little outfits. he absolutely loves doting on her.

★ they love her with all their hearts and would do absolutely anything for her. she’s so lucky to have three weird dads take care of her and raise her. a very odd and… unconventional family dynamic but an amazing one nonetheless. this family only grows bigger and bigger once gojo takes in megumi and geto practically adopts mimiko and nanako.

please read my rules before following

taglist: @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo

ayo we rocking with the star bullet points?? 🗣️⁉️

#★ snail.writes ★#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #satosugu x male reader #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #gojo x male reader #geto x male reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff #finished this up while watching drew gooden

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dearest-nell · 4 months

Text

homebrew.

j. potter x reader, 3.6k

summary: james wants to do something nice for the reader. best friends to lovers, mentions of reader menstruating, james being a big softie

a/n: this is the first time i've written in a long while, so hi there! nice to be back

It was safe to say that today was somewhat of a write off, at least in your own humble opinion. The familiar blunt pains of your period shook you from an already groggy, restless slumber, cyclically pressing somewhere deep inside you until you were drawn into a terrible state of nausea. You could feel the deep bruised marks hanging low beneath your eyes, hard earned and unwelcome, marring your already paler than usual complexion. You had avoided the mirror entirely, knowing something sallow would be the only reflection waiting.

It was battle enough to make your way down the stairs from your dorm, your head hanging low as you ghosted your way towards an already raucous common room. Heavy eyes landed on the two familiar figures seated in the corner, and even in your dreary state, you couldn’t keep the small smile that tugged on the corners of your lips. James sat comfortably, splayed across the couch in his usual unapologetic stature, arm hanging heavy across the back, legs parted wide, head tipped back in laughter at something Sirius had surely uttered before your arrival. Sirius seemed much the same in his own right, though you took less pains to notice. James always seemed to snatch your attention, after all. It was his effect.

You felt no need to greet the boys as you settled slowly beside James, slouching into the crook of his arm with entirely too little consideration, dropping your head to his shoulder with a distracted sigh. It was normal, after all, this kind of thing. James had always been affectionate by nature, and you craved the intimacy he had to offer more than you would ever admit.

James moved in an automatic response, his arm swiping to encase you in his hold as if that was how it was always meant to be. He couldn’t see the little furrow on your brow, not properly, but he could feel the tension that held each and every muscle in you tighter than a bowstring.

“Mornin’ there, sweetheart.” He chuckled, squeezing at your side affectionately only to receive a mumbled reply in turn. His brow rose towards Sirius, a silent conversation passing between them over your head.

Sirius cocked his head. “Didn’t sleep well then, I take it.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes to block out the light. Migraines were easily built when you were already in such a delicate state, and the widely opened windows of the tower had played the villain on you this morning. Ordinarily, the sunlight would have been worth a warm welcome, but this morning you had only wished for rain.

James tutted beside you, his free hand inching to brush back the hair that had crowded your face, the back of it pressing gently against your forehead. James didn’t need to excel in divination to know that something was off with you, you certainly weren’t trying to hide it, but it now had become his own little mystery to solve — a distraction from the rest of his day. There was no temperature, though, so he hoped he could at least rule out a trip to Pompfrey. “You feelin’ alright there?”

You breathed out a soft yeah, though neither of the boys were too convinced by the answer.

“You’re really gonna make us jump through hoops for it, aren’t ya.” Sirius teased, earning a narrowed, piercing glare from your tired eyes.

“You don’t want to know, Pads.”

Sirius shrugged, unphased by the response, and leaned back in his arm chair with his usual sort of smugness.

James tried again a little softer, resting his cheek on the crown of your head. “Try me, then. You wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, love?”

You were sure James couldn’t have known the effect that little nickname had on you, and you felt the familiar warm tug of your affection towards him slowly water down your reluctance to share.

“It’s not a secret, Jamie. It’s just that time, y’know? I usually make a stock of potions and I just forgot, so I’m feelin’ a bit…” you trailed off, angling your face up slightly so he could see your queasy expression. “It’s nothing to write home about.”

“Well in that case,” Sirius emphasised, pushing broad palms into the plush arms of his chair to hoist himself up, “I’m going to go track down our other little monthly invalid. I’d rather face Moons than this one.”

Sirius didn’t need to look back to see the vulgar motion you tossed his way, though James couldn’t help the chuckle that rippled from him as he watched you burrow in deeper after.

“Can I do anything, then?” James queried, rubbing circles into your side with the warmth of his palm. “You look like you really ought to go back to bed.”

“Can’t.” You grumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder. “I promised Dorcus I’d help her with her essay.”

Besides, you knew this was par for the course. How many people in the world faced the same battle as you and soldiered on — you didn’t feel like it was enough of an excuse when a third of Gryffindor tower was likely menstruating right along with you. Communal living, what a gem…

“I’m sure she’d understand.” James offered, furrowing his own brow in thought. He didn’t like there being a problem he couldn’t fix, and more so, he didn’t like you having a problem that he couldn’t fix. You were his little love, after all, his very best friend, it was his job to take care of you whether you wanted it or not.

How the two of you weren’t in a relationship was anyone’s guess, and a frustration that plagued all of your friends and acquaintances to no end. You never sat like this with the others, never used such darling terms of endearment for the rest of the gang. Yours and James dynamic was something entirely of its own; too sweet and tender to be just friends, and yet never classified as anything more. You wouldn’t argue it, though, not when it allowed you this kind of closeness with him. If this was all you would ever get, then you would take it gladly.

“She would, but I’m going anyways.” There was a decided tone to your voice that James knew would be a losing battle to argue with, so with a gentle sort of sigh, he focused his attention on a new objective.

“So what’s the potion, then? Can I go buy you some?”

You wrinkled your nose at the question, well aware that James was a dog with a bone at the best of times. It was sweet of him to offer, but the last thing you wanted was to feel helpless. You’d survived this long, after all, and the idea of you putting James out of his way was one you wished to avoid. “It’s okay, Jamie. I’ll make up a batch tonight or tomorrow, or somethin’. You don’t need to do anything.”

James would’ve knocked your martyr complex right out of you if he could, but that wasn’t his way. Besides, your stubbornness made up a part of you, and he loved all of you too much to ever want to change that, even if it was a pain in the neck.

“You know I’m useless on my own. Maybe I’m bored and want something to do, hm? You don’t know.”

He was being cheeky, and he had the shit eating grin to match it. That sort of energy always seemed to ripple off of him, settling a warmth into your bones that eased you somewhat.

You managed a small, amused chuckle. “Then I’m sure the boys’ll have plenty to keep you busy today. I just wanted a hug before I was on my way.”

“Oh yeah?” James’ voice was delighted as he circled his arms tighter around you, pressing you against the heat of his body with expert hands, fingertips massaging into your back and waist with reverent touches. “James hugs makes it all better, don't it.”

With a scoff at his ego, you allowed yourself a moment to soak it all in – this closeness and intimacy that you wished you could bottle. James was the perfect boyfriend, after all, even if he didn’t belong to anyone. There was never a day where his friends did not feel the weight of his love, of his affection and regard. It felt almost greedy to want more from the man who gave so freely.

But you did. You always wanted more of him.

“Yeah they do, you smug bastard.” The teasing lilt was not lost upon him, and it only made James squeeze you tighter.

“Y’know, I figure maybe I just won’t let you go. Then you’d have to rest right here where I can make sure.”

You thought about biting him – you really did – just because it was cheeky and you knew it would make him laugh. Your restraint, however, could only be considered admirable, and instead you moved to pinch at his side with a sneaky manoeuvre, one that would unfortunately cut this perfect moment short.

He yelped in surprise, his grip loosening enough for you to begrudgingly slip out of. It ached a little to see the way he was still reaching for you, trying to pull you back down to his side. Your traitorous, bleeding heart couldn’t help but hope that maybe he craved your touch as much as you craved his. But once again, James had nothing but adoring smiles for you, feeling all too bested in his own game.

“Careful, love – if they see you moving that quick, I might have competition on the Quidditch team.”

You shrugged, smiling a little coyly. “It won’t be my fault if they put you out of business, James.”

He huffed out a laugh, clutching at his chest with enough melodramatics to level the castle. “You’re breakin’ my heart.”

You tilted your head softly. “Don’t miss me too much. I’ll see you later, okay?”

His soft okay was enough for you to be on your way, though if you had heard his little, woefully mumbled I miss you already, then maybe you’d have turned back around.

-------✿-------

Dorcus had been supportive enough during your studies, much to no one's surprise, but even she could tell that this round of pains seemed far more severe than usual. You spent the better part of the session hunched over your library desk, legs curled up beneath you in some feeble attempt to ease the pain. The heated pillow behind you helped somewhat, but by the mid afternoon, it was starting to feel like a losing battle.

Once the bulk of the work was over, you resigned to give in, sending yourself back to the common room with a huff, energy far too spent for you to even consider making another round of potions. Pomfrey tried her best to keep a steady stock at all times, but between unsure first years whose potion making skills were not refined enough for such delicate casting and older students who were lazy enough not to bother, her supplies had once again been depleted, much to your chagrin.

It left you with nothing to do but burrow deep down into the warmth of your duvet, hooking the blanket over your head as you drifted into another groggy, all too short sleep. Even with noise muffling and light repellant spells, your body could not seem to comply, and within the hour you were back on your feet again, lazily pulling together something warm and cosy to wear down to the common room once more.

It was only when you opened your door that you noticed the small package at your feet, wrapped up prettily in a crimson ribbon that felt far too festive for something so mysterious.

There was no note attached, no sign of where the gift had come from, but with a steady hand you unravelled the packaging, opening your gift to discover twelve identical potion bottles stacked neatly in rows, a small card tucked carefully in between that read your name in a scrawled writing. By sight you could identify the contents – the familiar purple tinge was one you had learned to identify from Pomfrey herself – though you were sure she wouldn’t have had the time to brew a new batch from when you last saw her only an hour beforehand.

Chewing your lip, you pondered the possibilities, hooking the gift under your arm as you slowly descended the stairs to find the culprit. Of course, you were certain there was only one person who might have been responsible. James had been all too eager to help, after all, and far too free on his Saturday to be left to his own devices. The handwriting was unfamiliar, sure, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d attempted to throw someone off his trail that way; he was a prankster at heart.

Even now you found him perched happily by the fire, wrapped up in his favourite armchair, eyes drifting lazily across the pages of a book in hand.Coming up from behind, you leaned yourself over the back of the chair, elbows holding you up as you watched him examine the box now resting in his lap.

“So you’ve been busy today.”

Without missing a beat, James rated his head back onto the plush back behind him, smiling up at you with an innocence that seemed all for show. “Me? Well I’ve been trying to read, yes, though I wouldn’t call that busy.”

“Oh? So you’ve got no idea what these are, then?” Your tone was nothing if not incredulous, but what was the harm in humouring him in something like this.

James shrugged, passing a quick glance over the box in question before turning his eyes back to you. “Potions? Are they more of the ones you need?”

Your lips curved as he feigned his innocence, though the smugness that seemed to tug at the corner of his lips betrayed him. He’d never been a good liar, after all. James was earnest to the bone.

“You know, it’s funny, I couldn’t really say. There’s no labels, you see, and no note, so who is to say what they are.” You paused, gasping softly for a sort of dramatic effect, cupping your cheek with one hand as your eyes widened comically. “Oh no! They could be a nasty prank, now that I think about it. Probably best not to drink them…”

You watched it live, that flash of regret that passed before his eyes as he realised his mistake. He tried his best to cover it, clearing his throat and adjusting in his seat, eyes blinking up at you nervously.

“Or it’s just… I mean it doesn’t look all that harmful, does it? Who’d wanna give you a rotten potion anyways.”

You levelled your gaze at him. “Literally anyone that you share a room with, Jamie. I don’t need my hair falling out or my words coming out in Pig Latin, so I think I’ll pass.”

James reached up for you on instinct, his fingers curling around the meat of your forearm with a tender sort of touch, his gaze somewhat imploring now.

“Or you could just drink it, for… fun.”

“Fun?” You quirked a brow, smile widening at this little game that you were sure to win. “Why would I do that?”

James huffed. “Yeah, fun. I think they look fine, so maybe you should just—”

“James.”

He’d been backed into a corner and he knew it, though his little sigh of defeat did nothing for him to remove his touch from your arm. He spoke with a gentle whine, frustrated that the game was now at an end. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh.”

“I don’t know why you don’t want to. It’s really sweet of you to find me some, though I don’t know how you managed twelve; the school seems tapped.”

You shrugged your arm gently, enough to shake him from his grip so that your fingers could settle between his own, locking into place with such ease and familiarity. James’ gaze followed suit, watching the way his hand seemed to dwarf your own.

“It is. Pomfrey’s out and the girls didn’t have any to spare, so I just made ‘em instead.”

Your brows furrowed in surprise. “You made them? How?”

James surely would not have had access to the recipe, and you knew that it wasn’t a quick potion to make. He must have spent hours on it, and the thought made your heart squeeze with affection inside your chest.

Perhaps your affections were written right across your face, because you watched as his own expression softened to something equally adoring, his smile brightening at your astonishment.

“I got Mary to show me. Or really she just talked at me for a bit, but I took heaps of notes, and she checked at the end to make sure I’d done it right. Figured killing you with the wrong mix would’ve done nothing to cheer you up.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head in disbelief. Your breath felt caught in your throat, something large and unavoidable stuck and ready to spill out. “You didn’t have to.”

James shrugged. “I wanted to. I just didn’t want to make a fuss is all. Didn’t want you feeling like you’d owe me anything.”

You felt your lip catch between your teeth, already feeling that sense of obligation starting to pool in your gut. You had never been good at accepting gifts, after all, nor compliments – you always wanted to pay things back. James, however, was as stubborn as you were, and the resolve in his gaze was enough to show you that he was unflinching on this notion.

“Well I… I want to say thanks somehow. This was really kind, Jamie. Too kind.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand in his. “You don’t even need to say the thanks part. Just take the potion and I’ll be happy. I hate seeing you hurt, love, I really do.”

It was an impulse that had you moving, your body bending at the waist until you were lowered down just enough, James’ face angling to meet yours. You stayed like that for a moment, a blip in time spent with the two of you just watching one another, breaths evening out until you moved in sync, a pattern that only you two could follow. You nudged your face slightly, lips brushing tenderly against the scruff of an unshaved cheek, pressing there far longer than ordinarily you might have ever dared.

You heard the shudder in his breath, felt the way his hand gripped yours as you pulled back, gaze meeting his own in an unavoidable stare.

“Thank you, James. I really mean it.”

You watched as he swallowed, that same sort of lump caught in his own throat as he tried to find the words, tried to make himself speak in a way that you would understand. How could he make you see that he would do anything for you, anything at all, whether you asked or not.

He settled on the one thing he knew he needed, using his grip on your hand to urge you out from behind the couch – behind the wall between you two – guiding you until you settled comfortably in his lap, curled up and safe, just as you ought to be. You didn’t question the movement, just tilting your head curiously at the intense way he seemed to be watching you, tugging your entwined hands into your lap, cocooning his within your own, rubbing circles into the back of his hand.

James reached for your face with his other hand, deft fingers hooking your loose strands of hair behind your ear, circling at the softness of your cheek and jaw with newfound tenderness.

“If you want to thank me next time, then you can just let me look after you. It’s all I want to do.”

His kiss was quick as he pressed his lips to your own, somehow so casual for something so foreign between you both. You’d have almost believed you’d made the whole thing up if you couldn’t feel the electricity it left behind, feel the way such a small thing had awakened so much inside of you.

“Okay.”

You could see it in his stare, the way he was reading you, trying to understand if you wanted this as badly as he did. Your soft sigh as you nuzzled into the warmth of his palm was all the reassurance he needed, nodding to himself as he processed the lines he had just crossed.

“Okay.” He breathed, angling your face to kiss your brow, his touch reverent as he lingered far longer this time, unable to bring himself to pull away until the very last second, that teasing, boyish grin now spread across his features. “Take your potion, then, and sit with me a little while. I wanna make sure it works.”

It was hard to tell what was changed between you two, but all you knew was that whatever had occurred here in this armchair would linger in the back of your mind for days to come. There was a new intimacy here, one far deeper than had ever been explored between the two of you before, and even without words, you knew James felt it too.

Maybe it didn’t need words. Maybe it was enough for you to drink the potion and settle against him, your nose pressed against the pulse beating steadily at the crook of his neck, his hand pressing soft circles into the dip of your back. Maybe that was the only step that needed taking, for now. Something felt all too assured in that moment that this was just the beginning, and that was all the both of you needed to know.

#j.p #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter x you #james potter x reader insert #harry potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #hp marauders #marauders #marauders x reader #james fleamont potter

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riki-dazed · 6 months

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Best friends can kiss, right? -- PART 2

go to part 1 · fluff, kissing · wc: 1205

Your eyes search Riki's for any hint of jest or sincerity, a knot forms within your stomach as you try to make sense of the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Did I hear that correctly?

He must be joking. Right?

The question continues to hang in the air as you stay cuddled into his side, mere inches away from his face. The warmth in which you felt radiate off his hoodie moments prior has now doubled in temperature.

You wait patiently for Riki to crack a smile, expecting him to mention that he's joking around, as his unserious self always does. But instead, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you watch his seated figure begin to lean closer into you, your eyes instinctively close shut as you brace yourself for whatever is about to unfold.

It's finally happening..

Your mouth emits a barely audible gasp as Riki's pillowy lips come into contact with your forehead, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, gently keeping you in place for him. His lips linger on you for what feels like an eternity, the warmth of his breath against your skin causes a sense of calmness to flush over your stiff body. Nerves in which had settled upon you moments prior were nowhere to be found anymore.

You open your eyes to find him pulling away from your face, and you can't help but almost feel a tinge of disappointment; a sense of longing for his lips to be moving against other places, and not just your forehead.

Your cheeks flush at the racing thoughts within your mind as one of your hands finds its way up his torso, clinging onto the fabric of his hoodie that covers his chest. Your touch leaves Riki slightly surprised, prompting him to conceal his emotions behind a composed facade.

You pout, your gaze set on his, "Nishimura Riki, is that all you've got..?"

Just tell me how we can make this work

Your best friend returns a small smile, the both of you listening to the quiet melody in the background fade into a comfortable silence. Riki's heart rate picks up with every passing second as you continue to search his eyes, he wonders if you can tell just how much your puppy-eyed gaze is taking an effect upon him.

"Y/n," He reluctantly begins, his voice even more hushed now that there's nothing playing through his speakers. His tall body shifts to find a comfier position on the small sofa, his hand simultaneously pulls you back into his side, "...I don't want to rush you."

You furrow your eyebrows at the sweet boy, giving him a look that screams playful annoyance. A shy smile creeps onto your lips also, your heart warming at how considerate he always is with you.

"I've waited for this since the day we first met, Riki,"

His gaze burns into yours as he tries to process the words he's just heard you say. A part of him knew this, though, he's always loved you too much to put your friendship at risk. In this moment, and with the help of your confession, Riki realizes that some people are just worth taking these sort of risks for.

His eyes shy away, "Me too,"

Riki's calm reply leaves you feeling each and every butterfly within your body flutter its wings, without restraint. Finding a sudden boost of confidence within yourself, you take the opportunity to shift your position. Both of your hands are now situated atop Riki's chest as your knees rest on either side of his hips, the pace of his breathing quickening beneath your touch is dangerously noticeable to you.

This is so unlike him

The realization that you're straddling him feels surreal to Riki, like a scenario he could have only ever dreamed of actually happening. He's looking up at you with an expression akin to a lost puppy, his arms resting on either side of him. He's uncertain of what to do with his hands.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," Your voice is laced with anticipation and longing, your gaze falling to his mouth in which hangs slightly open.

And just like that, the look in Riki's eyes changes entirely, like your words had just flipped a switch within him; you realize that you've just added fuel to a long running fire.

Riki doesn't dare to make you wait another second longer. He lifts his back off the sofa, closing the distance between your bodies. The boundaries set between your friendship begin to blur as Riki's lips finally start to move against yours fervently, causing you to melt against him into a tender reciprocation. You'd be lying if you were to say that you've never kissed him in your past daydreams, though, you never expected it to be this good in real life.

The silent world around you fades into insignificance as you tug at Riki's hoodie, his hands finally settling on the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him; as if he's afraid to let you go.

The kiss you share with him is needy, both of you hungry to taste one another for the first time. Sounds of want and desperation wash throughout the small studio, creating an intimate symphony in which completely envelopes the both of you. Your mind is completely blank, the only thing being present within it being the thought of how good Riki's lips feel against yours currently. The biting, the sucking.. You start to wonder where he learnt to kiss like this.

Your hands trail up Riki's chest, they rest on his shoulders as you gently push his back against the plush sofa. The both of you take a moment to catch your breaths when your lips detach from one another's, your chests rising and falling in synchrony. You struggle to make sense of what has just happened.

"Is that all you've got?" The almost panting boy mockingly teases, refering to your previous question from minutes ago.

A menacing smile washes over his face as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands settling on your hips. You scoff in reply, leaning back into him to leave one final, wet kiss against his now slightly swollen, and pink lips.

He tastes so good.

"Mm, this is nice. I like this," Riki sighs contently as his long arms wrap around you, squishing your figure against his. A chuckle escapes you as you proceed to lay your head against his chest. "We should do this more often."

"So, is this where I ask what are we..?" You tease with a smile as you gaze up into his face.

Riki's eyes shut as he chuckles away, hugging you tighter in the process. The feeling of his chest moving against your body with his laughter causes your eyes to ever so slightly tear up, out of pure love, and adoration. His happiness radiates a different kind of warmth throughout your body.

This is where I belong.

Three AM soon turns into the early hours of the morning as you continue to sleep peacefully, your limbs intertwined, the both of you embracing one another closely on the cramped studio sofa.

...

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wanderer-six · 4 months

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Late Night

AN: this tweet changed my life I could not stop thinking about this i needed to write this i need you all to b thinking about this too

Relationships: Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You and Hunter have been together for years now, living out a happy life on Pabu. You're spending the night together, and time has done nothing to quell your desires.

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, edging (it's ok he can take it), old man hunter im dedd 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2k I did not proofread this apologies in advance if it's bad I hope u can at least get behind the Vibes u feel me

It’s another beautiful night on Pabu. The sun set over the island hours ago, and the moon now bathes the ocean in shimmering silver. As the day wound down, so too did the residents; the paths that bustle by day are all but empty now as everyone settles in for a peaceful night.

All around the island, there is quiet. The only sounds you hear now are the gentle drone of the waves, and his heavy breathing.

Like all the others, you and Hunter retired to your bungalow, but rest is far from your minds. In the dark of your bedroom, you and him are bare, chasing off any chill from the evening air with each other’s warmth. Hunter, the man you’ve loved for a lifetime, is beneath you now. You balance your hands on his broad shoulders, riding him slowly, wonderfully, biting your lip as he meets your gaze with weary eyes.

Even after all these years, making love to him still feels as amazing as it did the very first night you shared together. Each roll of your hips fills you with more of him, and you can’t help but whimper when he hits every spot you love. It seems he hasn’t had his fill of you, either. Though time has had its effects on Hunter, it certainly hasn’t changed the way he yearns for you. Even now, he hangs on your every movement, his vigilant eyes darting between your pleasured expressions and your hips taking his cock.

Deciding he’s gotten a little too comfortable, you descend onto his length at a different angle, allowing him to reach deeper than before. At the sudden sensation, a groan catches in his chest. Between his labored breaths, he chuckles.

“You feel so fucking good, cyar’ika…”

Humming through a smile, you rest your forehead on his.

“You’re one to talk, handsome…” Your fingers trail through his hair, still just as long as when you first met, but having faded to grey some time ago. “I can’t get enough of you.”

That confident, effortless smirk tugs at his lips. You’ve seen it a thousand times, yet each time he wears it, heat still rises beneath your cheeks.

“Heh… is that so?” Though his once defined, sharp muscles have softened from years of respite on the island, he still feels as strong as ever when he grips at your hips. “I guess time hasn’t gotten the best of me in every way…”

At this, it’s your turn to grin. You know it’s been a few long years since the two of you last saw combat; with the clones’ advanced aging, those years have counted double for him. But even if you’re older than you once were, you know you still have plenty of time left.

And it’s when Hunter starts to pretend as though he’s moments from death’s door that you like to remind him what he’s still capable of.

Without warning, you melt against Hunter, draping your arms over his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. His tongue dances with yours, and as his arms hold you flush against him by your waist, you begin to roll your hips more quickly. You move faster, harder, riding him for all he’s worth. You revel in every little noise he makes, the way his eyes flutter shut in pure bliss. His fingers tense, clinging to your hips so desperately as to leave bruises.

In the Force, you feel how close he is. How near he is to losing himself fully in you…

… and right before he hits his peak, you lift yourself off of him, robbing him of the only thing he craves in that moment.

Hunter utters a groan, wincing through the torment of his denied release. He leans his head back against the wall, and you can feel his heart kicking fast against his chest.

“F-Fuck…” he hisses through gritted teeth.

Despite his anguish, you can only grin. You lean forward, lavishing him with gentle kisses as he settles down.

“Easy, Sergeant,” you sing. “I’m not done with you yet.”

As you kneel over him, he dares to glance between your legs. You’re so tantalizingly close to his aching length, and though his desperation is clear on his face, he knows better than to think you’ll be so generous. Utterly helpless, he shakes his head.

“I’m too old for you to be teasing me like this…” he mutters, a weak smile tugging at his lips. You roll your eyes at his self-admonishment.

“Oh, enough…” With a deep exhale, you rest your forehead against his, and your eyes fall shut as you bask in the feeling of him. For every experience you’ve had in every corner of the galaxy, nothing compares to having Hunter all to yourself. “I know you can handle it, even if we may not be young anymore…”

Though he’s clearly just as lost in your attentions, this remark has him prop an eye open to sneer at you.

“‘We’?” he repeats with a chuckle. Sighing, he runs his rough hands up the curves of your waist. “You’ve still got your whole life ahead of you—even if you’re wasting it torturing an old clone like me…”

Your eyes warm, and you bite your lip. With a dangerous twist of your hips, you grind against him, earning a deep grumble from Hunter’s chest. Your lips linger by his ear.

“I think I know my Hunter by now…” you purr, voice low enough to make him shiver, “and if there’s one thing he likes, it’s a challenge.”

Without a word of warning, you lower yourself back onto his cock, taking him deep inside as you begin riding him again. Hunter goes rigid, fumbling for purchase against your hips as they overwhelm him with pleasure. Nothing could ever thrill you more than the way he touches you. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s known exactly how to make your body sing for him. Even now, a desperate mess beneath you, his hands run along your skin purely by instinct.

And luckily, you know his body just as well.

Again, you fuck him harder. Again, you feel the tension in his core, the white-hot release building inside of him…

Again, you stop just short, lifting off of him right before he can come.

Your poor sergeant whines again, his head lolling back as his eyes pinch shut. Between your legs, his cock throbs, twitching in desperate need for the stimulation you’ve so cruelly deprived him of.

“A-ah…!” Between his heavy breaths, chest rising and falling arduously, he moans in complaint. “You’re… fuck, you’re driving me crazy…”

While he grovels in such a sorry state, you’re no worse for wear at all. You place kiss after languid kiss up his neck, tickling his skin with your breath.

“I can keep this up all night, handsome…” Pulling away just enough to catch his eye, you don a mischievous grin. “I think you can, too.”

In the face of your taunting, Hunter surprises you when his smile softens. He cups your face with a trembling hand, running his thumb gently along your cheek. You lean into his touch, admittedly falling victim to his sudden tenderness.

“Tell me…” he asks, “what’s it gonna take for you to let me off, huh?”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose against his.

“Hm… I don’t know,” you sigh, playing coy. “I think you might just be too old to manage what I have in mind…~”

With a chuckle, he pinches your cheek. “Try me.”

Pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, you flash him a charming grin.

“Tell me you love me.”

Through his lust-filled gaze, Hunter raises an eyebrow above a half-smirk.

“What… that’s all?”

You nod. “Mm-hm. That is… if you think you can handle—”

You’re cut off when Hunter’s lips catch yours, meeting you in a kiss so deep you nearly feel like you’re drowning. His tongue toys with yours, so desperate to taste you it makes heat flood beneath your cheeks. Still, you can’t help but smile against him. Though Hunter likes to act as though he’s old and grey, now, you know he’s far from gone. In moments like these, you feel the fire that’s burned inside him since the very beginning. It hasn’t faded in the slightest. You know it never will.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t stray far, lips ghosting over yours as he holds your gaze with intense eyes.

“I love you, cyar’ika,” he breathes, a solemn swear. “Always have… always will.”

For the first time that night, it seems you’re the one on the backfoot. Eyes wide and innocent, you’re touched by the sincerity of his words. You know Hunter, know that he does everything to the fullest. But hearing for certain that his passion would be yours for as long as you both have left… your heart can scarcely take it.

With sudden desperation, you press your lips to his, and you bury his cock in your warmth. He moans into your mouth, and you moan back, losing yourself to the feeling as you ride him again. Tense hands grip at every part of you—your waist, your ass, your shoulders—leaving marks on your skin as he tries in vain to bear the sensation. But it isn’t long until his resolve begins to break.

As a gasp catches in Hunter’s throat, his lips break from yours.

“F-Fuck, cyar’ika… I’m gonna…”

You already know. You feel his energy shifting—you feel how close he is. His delayed release has only built up to something more intense… but this time, you don’t back off. You indulge him, rolling your hips even faster than before. With what little stamina he has left tonight, he’s thrusting into you, and you whimper aloud as he hits every perfect spot inside you. You’re as close as he is…

And when you reach your climax, you’re amazed he can stay conscious.

Hunter buries himself to the hilt in your cunt, coming deep inside you. Your orgasm milks him for every last drop, and given the way you’ve tormented him tonight, he has plenty to give. By the time you’ve sucked him dry, his overstimulated cock still twitching in your walls, he’s quivering beneath you, completely and utterly spent. He breathes as heavy as he would during the war, on missions that would see him running for hours… You’re sure he’ll ache just as badly, come morning.

After taking a moment to recover, Hunter opens his eyes, gazing up at you with a precious smile. Gingerly, you tuck his hair behind his ears, supporting his head as you meet him in a feather-light kiss.

“I love you, too, Hunter…” you hum, voice barely above a whisper. “Always have, always will.”

The smile he wears is genuine. He tilts his head to catch your hand, placing a kiss on your palm.

“I’m glad. I don’t know what I’d do without you, cyar’ika.” He pauses, then chuckles bitterly as he closes his eyes again. “Even if you’re liable to kill me, putting me through nights like this…”

Your grin turns more playful. Slowly, you lift yourself off of Hunter, relishing the way he shivers as his length falls out of you.

“Be thankful I’m so generous,” you tease as you lay beside him. You rest your head on his chest, sighing in utter contentment. “If I weren’t, you would be in for another round… or ten.”

Hunter chuckles, voice reverberating in his broad chest in a way that soothes you more than anything else could. Arm wrapped around you, he traces idle shapes on your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something meaner to treat me to when we wake up tomorrow,” he sighs. His gentle lips press to your forehead. “But for now, let me get some rest, huh?”

Giggling, you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck.

“Hm… all right. But only because I love you so much.”

The warm night air, the distant roar of the waves, the embrace of the man you’ll always love… you can’t imagine anything more perfect. But as always, Hunter finds a way to make the greatest things even greater.

“I love you more, cyar’ika. Always.”

AN: Thank you as always for reading mmwah mwah I hope you enjoy, always stay edging that old man ♥♥

#tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #hunter x reader #hunter tbb #tbb hunter x reader #tbb smut #hunter/reader #reader insert #W6fic

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storiesfromafan · 1 year

Text

Yule Ball

A/N: back with another story, haha. This little baby hit me hard. Also quite happy with how it turned out :)

Pairing: Mattheo x Fem!Reader

Summary: what happens when you wait to be asked by our favourite Slytherin, but he ends up taking another girl. So you go screw it, lets go stag.

Yule Ball

Hogwarts was abuzz with talk of the Yule Ball. Every girl was a fuss with picking the right dress and shoes, and how they would do their hair. Not to mention getting a date for the ball. Even your best friend Pansy was a flutter with it all! She of course was going with Draco, and had picked her dress to match him. Tedious, the whole thing, you thought. But it wasn’t a common thing. Nor was the Triwizard Tournament. The Yule Ball was at the end of the week, you had reluctantly picked the dress and shoes. But did not have a date, yet.

“What do you mean you don’t have an escort for the Ball!?” Pansy said in shock, during lunch.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s no big deal” you shrugged, pushing your food around your plate.

“Yes it is, you can’t go alone” Pansy retorted as Draco, Blaise and Mattheo joined the table.

“Who can’t go alone? To what?” Draco asked, starting to put food on his plate.

“Y/N/N, she doesn’t have an escort for the Yule Ball” answered Pansy.

“Really Y/L/N? Thought you’d have a line of suitors” laughed Draco.

You rolled your eyes. “It wouldn’t be that long, but there have been a few that asked...”

“And you rejected them? Why?” questioned Pansy, with a sharp look at you.

“Keeping my options open” you replied casually. Though you knew why you rejected them, secretly hoping a curtain Slytherin heart throb would ask you.

“If I was you, I wouldn’t reject anyone else. Because before you know it there won’t be anyone available” Mattheo said matter-of-factly.

You gave him a pointed look. “And do you have a date?”

He smiled brightly, “of course. I’m going with Anna”, he looked down the table to a pretty blonde in your year, who sat in front of you in Potions class.

You felt your stomach drop at his words, and felt a sharp pain in your chest when you looked at the girl in question. So much for Mattheo asking you to the Yule Ball. But you put on a brave face, smile and congratulated him. Told him you hope they have a good time. All the while every word that left your mouth left a bad taste in its wake. The conversation dropped off about the ball, and back to classes. You had a few more bites of your food before pushing it away, appetite lost.

“I’m going to head to Potions. See you there Pans” you said getting up and grabbing your bag, then leaving before Pansy or anyone could say anything.

“Is she alright?” asked Mattheo looking at Pansy with concern.

“Yes, I believe she is” Pansy lied. Even without her friend telling her, she knew you had a thing for Mattheo and no doubt hoped he’d have asked you to go to the Ball.

The walk to Potions felt longer than normal. Students around you are conversing and laughing. Not to mention the over hearing of students asking each other to the Yule Ball. You frowned and cursed the social event. Yes you were being petty, yes you were bitter. And to cement your dislike you vowed to not even go. It wasn’t worth your time. Not when you’d see Mattheo and Anna together.

You weren’t sure when you started to like your friend. But it was obvious to you once you saw him on the train back to Hogwarts at the start of the year. It hit you like the Hogwarts Express the first time he looked at you with his deep brown eyes, flashing you a bright smile. It caused your breath to catch, and stomach to flip. After that every little thing he did, or said a curtain way, had an effect on you. How you’ve managed to hold it together, and not show it, was a surprise to you.

The rest of the week leading up to the Yule Ball was suffocating. Not to mention turning you more bitter, as Anna had started to hang around your group to be closer to Mattheo. You would sit as far away from the pair as you could, preferably on the same side as them, so you wouldn’t have any direct eye line of them. Which meant you found yourself sitting in front of Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire. Two of Mattheo’s close friends. Though loyal to Mattheo, they had become fond of you, like a sister. They could see something was bothering you, but neither chose to bring it up with you. Instead doing all they could to distract you; deep or stupid conversations, jokes, pranks, etc. And you were grateful for it.

The day of the Yule Ball, students only had morning classes to attend. Which everyone, but you, were excited about. After those morning classes, and lunch in The Great Hall, all students were left to enjoy the afternoon before those in the higher classes would attend the Ball. You laid on your bed while Pansy and the other three girls of your room got ready. They fussed over each other's hair and make up, talking about what they hoped would happen tonight. Rolling onto your back, you looked up at the room's ceiling, glaring at how happy they were, excited to be going with the guys they wanted. While you would be staying in this room, bitter over the fact Anna would get your night.

Pansy took a moment to look over at you, she felt for you. “Y/N/N, why don’t you still go to the Ball? Who cares if you have a date or not!” She said hoping you would listen to her. “Besides, you brought a beautiful dress. It would be a shame not to wear it”.

“Yeah, Pansy is right!” A few of your roommates coursed together.

You rolled back onto your stomach, eyes focusing on the girls of the room. “I’ll pass, thanks. I will see if I can return it anyways”. Then you rolled back onto your back, and went back to glaring at the ceiling.

Pansy and the girls all shared a sullen look, before going back to getting ready, but in a more sober mood. You hated to be the killjoy, but this was a hard pill to swallow. You would have rather Mattheo had gone stag with Theodore and Lorenzo. And, though it would have stung, picked up a girl at the Ball. Or maybe he would have seen you finally, and realizing you were the girl for him. Unfortunately no luck there. So you will do your best to forget tonight, and all that will go down in The Great Hall. Then tomorrow you would remove yourself from all talk of the Yule Ball.

Once the girls were ready, they headed out and to the common room where students had made plans to hang out before the start of the Ball. Pansy was the last to leave the room. She had continued to try and talk you into going. Even offered to pop down to the common room and see if she could drum up a last minute escort for you. But you declined her offer, sticking to your stubborn guns.

Pansy sighed as she reached the room’s door, looking back at you as you read a book sitting on your bed. “I know you didn’t get asked by the person you wanted too. But you shouldn’t let the hurt win, you should go and have fun for yourself”. And with that Pansy left.

You didn’t look up from your book once during her words. But part of you knew she was right. Why should you let a guy consume you, dictate your evening. Part of your mind was screaming to get up, do your hair and make up, put on that dress you love and go have fun. Show Mattheo and every male student that you don’t need them! You are Y/N Y/L/N, and you don’t need anyone!

So with that spark of determination you got up off your bed, and the first thing you did was your makeup. You kept it fairly neutral; opting for a natural smoky eye with a hint of dark green, and slightly dark nude lip. Next you put your Y/H/C locks half up with a moon shape clip, some hair falling around and framing your face. After that you managed to get into the gown you had brought, love at first sight. It was an emerald green V-neck dress that had thin straps that tied up on the top of your shoulders. The bodice was embellished in different green crystals that also cascaded down in various lengths over the lace-up A-line skirt. The material of the dress is a mix of cotton, satin and tulle, making it airy and flowy, almost whimsical. After putting on your shoes, the last item you put on was the necklace Mattheo had given you for your birthday.

At first you were unsure of wearing the dainty silver two chain necklace, that each houses a star on the top chain and a moon on the lower. Staring at the simple but beautiful piece of jewellery, you thought wearing it would go against the passion lit in you to stick it to the male students. You felt it would be like wearing a ball and chain, weighing you down with the reminder of who you weren’t there with. But in the end you chose to wear the necklace. It suited you well, telling you Mattheo knew you. And that wasn’t all that you noticed him do for you. He was always opening doors for you, greeting you first in the morning, taking a seat next to you during meals, and taking you hand at merited or random times. Which is why you had been so sure of him asking you to the Yule Ball, and the chance he liked you as much as you liked him.

Taking one final look at yourself in the room's full mirror, you made last minute adjustments before lifting your head up high and began your trek to The Great Hall. Rising from the lower level of the school, you walked down halls littered with various paintings. Many of the painting’s residents said ‘hello’ as you passed, with a few commenting on how lovely you looked, which made you smile and thank them. With every step closer to The Great Hall you could feel your heart rate pick up, breathing becoming a tad harder with nerves. You came to the staircase before the first set of doors to The Great Hall, at the bottom you spotted your friends. It was now or never.

Lorenzo was the first to spot you at the top of the stairs, a bright smile crossing his face as he pointed you out to Theodore. Who said your name in question a little loud, catching Pansy and Draco’s attention. All three’s eyes followed Lorenzo’s to where you stood. Noticing them staring at you, you knew there was no going back now. So placing your hand on the railing, you started to descend the stairs with a soft smile on your face. Mattheo was confused as to why his friends were quiet, and looking behind him. Turning around he saw you coming down the stairs dressed in the perfect shade of green for you, you looked absolutely stunning. Sure, he would say you look beautiful everyday. But right this moment, you looked like a Goddess gracing Earth with your presence.

Coming to reside on the floor before your friends, Lorenzo and Theodore were the ones to move to your sides. They offered you compliments a plenty, which made you laugh nervously and tell them to stop. Pansy was the next to come over to you, so happy you had changed your mind, and how lovely you looked in your dress.

“You clean up nicely Y/L/N” Draco complimented, to which Pansy slapped his arm.

“Never say that to a lady” she said angrily. But then turned back to you, “what made you change your mind!?” She asked. “I didn’t expect you to change your mind, but I am so happy you did!”

You laughed at her words, both Mattheo and Anna coming over to join you all. “I decided I wasn’t going to let my lack of a date bring me down. No shame in going stag”.

Both Lorenzo and Theodore agreed with you. “No shame at all, both Enzo and I are stag” Theodore said with a bright smile. “You can join us!”

You laughed at the pair. “Both of you going stag doesn’t surprise me one bit”.

All the while bantered with his two close friends, Mattheo looked at you. He was mesmerized by how beautiful you looked. He felt like this was the first time he was seeing you, the real you. He liked how your eyes lit up with laughter, enjoyed the sound of your voice, and over all adored your presence. Soon you all began to make your way into The Great Hall; Draco and Pansy taking the lead arm in arm, followed by you on either arm of Lorenzo and Theodore, while Mattheo and Anna brought up the rear. You could feel eyes on the back of you as you walked, but soon you felt many eyes on you as you entered the large room. You took note of how winter wonderland The Great Hall looked.

After finding a spot off to the side, your group took to talking and laughing. You hadn't paid Mattheo or his date any mind, not really looking at them. Instead talking with Lorenzo and Theodore, which had been fun so far. Eventually the TriWizard champions entered the hall, and kicked off the dancing. You watched in delight at the twirling and lifting of the female’s. You sighed, wishing you were a part of the dancing. And as if reading your mind, both boy’s offered you their hand but then glared at the other. After a quick round of paper, scissors, rock; you were dragged by the winner Lorenzo to the dance floor. You joined Pansy and Draco moving around the room. You weren’t the best dancer, but Lorenzo was patient with you, leading you in the current formal dance, all while you both laughed and smiled. Once that dance was done, Theodore swooped in and stole you from his friend. He led you around in the dance, as Mattheo and Anna joined this time.

Theodore was commenting on the teacher’s who had taken to the dance floor. His words had you in stitches, while Mattheo glared at the both of you while dancing with his date. Seeing you dance with Lorenzo, and now Theodore, left him cursing them. How dare they take your attention for themselves. If they hadn’t been fussing over you, he would have had your attention. Anna complained when Mattheo had stepped on her foot, too distracted by his friend and you to pay attention to his dance partner. After that dance you and Theodore left the dance floor, and Mattheo went back to focusing on Anna as best he could, knowing you were out there somewhere. Any male students coming up and talking to you made his blood boil.

You found yourself alone, leaning against a stone wall after Theodore and Lorenzo went to work the room, aka hit on girls. Of course they weren’t going to leave you on your own, but you had told them to go, you’d be fine. So here you were, being a wallflower, watching those on the dance floor. Over time the formal music and dancing was replaced by the band Weird Sisters, and students jumping around and letting loose. By this point you noted Draco and Pansy sitting down by the dance floor, they were talking while Pansy rubbed his back. Your gaze then moved to the dance floor, you laughed softly at Fred and George jumping around like idiots, their date’s not too pleased. But the other bodies on the floor weren’t that different from the twins.

Then you spotted Mattheo and Anna; they were dancing away from the jumping crowd, probably so they wouldn’t get hurt or drawn in. Seeing them hurt, a lot. That bitterness slowly returning with every second you watched them. You felt the prickling of tears in the corner of your eyes. No, you weren’t going to let them win. You would not cry. Standing up straight you took a deep breath before releasing it. That was when Lorenzo and Theodore came back to you, both taking a spot on either side of you and leaning against the wall. Their eyes followed where you were looking and it was like a light bulb went off over both of them. You were upset with Mattheo for bringing Anna to the Ball, and no doubt you fancied their friend.

“What’s a pretty girl like yourself being a wallflower?” Theodore asked, turning his head to look at you.

“I’m not a wallflower” you retorted, looking Theodore in the eyes.

“Yes you are” Lorenzo said looking at you. “Standing by yourself, watching everyone else; definition of wallflower”.

“Not entirely correct” you replied with a sigh.

“Why are you alone? Any guy here would be dying to dance with a beauty like you” Theodore with a smirk.

“Doubt it” you said, hitting his arm. “Did you spike the punch? How much have you had to drink?”

Both boys laughed. “First off; yes just about every guy here wants to dance with you” Lorenzo said matter-of-factly.

“And second; we didn't spike the punch. Snape or McGonagall would know within five minutes” Theodore finished.

You looked between them with a raised eyebrow. “Then how have you been drinking?” You asked, skipping their notion of most males wanting to dance with you.

Both boys smiled all knowingly, before Theodore looked around making sure no Professor’s were around. He then proceeded to produce a silver flask. Cheeky sod’s, they were carrying. Theodore offered you a drink, which you thought screw it and took a few sips from, before returning the flask to him. A shocked look on your face at home the whisky went down, burning your throat. Both boys laughed at your reaction. Then Lorenzo offered you some of his, which had been vodka. Not good to mix the two liquors, but you were over caring. You needed to dull the thoughts in your head, and forget, even for the night, Mattheo and Anna.

“Come on wallflower” Lorenzo said, getting up from his leaning position. “Let’s go have some fun and dance the night away!”

Feeling the numbing sensation taking over, you stood. “Alright boys, let’s go!”

Lorenzo grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor, Theodore right behind you both. Once on the dance floor you grasped the skirt of your dress and lifted it slightly as you moved around with both boys to the music. You let the music take over, feeling every note and moving to its rhythm. Lorenzo and Theodore moved along with you, all three of you singing and laughing, all the while jumping and turning. You let the alcohol and energy of dancing wash away your thoughts of the Slytherin you liked, and his date. You focused on letting loose, having fun with your two friends. Every now and then, you three would sneak drinks from the flask’s the boys were concealing, just adding fuel to the fire of total freedom.

While you had been talking to the boys against the wall, then drinking with them and now dancing, Mattheo had watched almost all of your three’s doings. And he didn’t like the influence his friends had on you. He could understand talking to you, and dancing with you, but not the alcohol consumption. That wasn’t very you. Sure, during house parties you would have a few drinks. But not straight liquor. Yet there you were before, doing just that. By this time Mattheo and Anna were sitting down with Pansy and Draco, taking a rest.

“Y/N/N looks to be having fun” Pansy said with a laugh. “I wasn’t sure about those two, but they are helping her tonight”.

“Ha. Why do you say that?” Draco asked, not entirely caring.

Pansy briefly looked at Mattheo before going back to her date. “Before I left our dorm she was so adamant on not coming tonight. I know she had hoped for a particular guy to ask her to the Ball”.

“That is sad they didn’t” Anna said with a frown. “But I’m glad she did come. And is having a good time” she then smiled after those words.

Pansy half smiled at the girl, not thrilled she was with Mattheo. “Yes, I am happy too. She didn’t need him to have a good time”.

Mattheo was silent during the conversation. Wondering who would be such an idiot to not ask you. Sure, he had considered asking you but then Anna came into the picture. And he had decided to ask her. He knew you wouldn’t have had any trouble getting a date. A few guy’s from the Slytherin Quidditch team had asked at different times if you had a date yet, and he said no. Even then, a small part of him didn’t like the idea of them taking you to the Ball. He chalked it up to being a protective friend. But now he knew why. He liked you. Plain and simple.

With all the dancing and drinking you were doing, it finally started to catch up to you. And you slowed down, while your company continued to dance, and take some well needed air. You felt your head swimming from the alcohol, but it was pleasant, you felt a little giddy. But your legs and arms were starting to ache from all the jumping, shimmying and twirling with Lorenzo and Theodore. Not to mention some of the students had called it a night, yet it didn’t stop the remaining students. Thinking it was time to call it quits, you were about to look for a particular curly haired brunette, before stopping yourself. Who cares where he was or what he was doing. You have had a good time tonight.

So with a content smile you let both Lorenzo and Theodore know you were going to head off to bed. They gave you overdramatic pleas to stay, but when you said it was bedtime, they fake cried making you laugh. Bidding them goodnight you held your head high before making your way from the dance floor. Pansy noticed you leave the dance floor, and when you both saw the other looking, you waved and mouthed goodnight. She got the message, and was fine with you going to bed. You deserved a good sleep after having a fun night.

Exiting The Great Hall you climbed up the stairs you had taken to get to the hall, before swaying slowly down the hallway, almost floating down with that content smile still on your lips. Letting go of Mattheo, and the alcohol you consumed, did you wonders tonight. For once you had fun for yourself. You didn’t think about others. Didn’t worry over what anyone would think. Didn’t let the rational side of your brain ruin your night with thoughts. You had successfully detached from who you were.

“Y/N!” Call the reality train, in the form of one Mattheo Riddle.

You sighed, stopping where you were. Not even turning around. “Yes?” You asked.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

Confused, you turned around to see the Slytherin boy a meter from you. “Peachy. Why?”

“You’re leaving the Ball early” Mattheo made an excuse, knowing you were probably tired and ready for bed. But he had to speak to you. After watching you the rest of the night with his friends, he needed to have time with you.

“Well Theo, this young lady is ready to go back to her room and turn into an ordinary, average girl” you said with a small laugh.

He looked at you confused. “You’re not ordinary, nor are you average Y/N/N. Fair from it actually”.

You laughed. “Yes I am Theo, it’s fine to say it”.

“No you’re not. You are an incredible person; smart, kind, fierce. And you know you are beautiful”.

“I do look quite good tonight” you stated, straightening out your skirt.

“No, you are beautiful everyday,” Mattheo said sincerely. “Are you upset because you didn’t have a date? Because the guy you hoped to ask you didn't?”

You looked Mattheo in the eyes, he was concerned but you could see something in his eyes that made you think he was being protective of you. “Not at all. Sure it sucked he didn’t ask me” you could feel the alcohol loosen your tongue and decided to go with it. “He even brought another girl, which hurt. But it is what it is”.

“He’s an idiot” Mattheo commented, as you moved to lean against the stone wall.

“Yeah. But I can’t blame him. He doesn’t know how I feel, or how I wanted him to ask me” you said in thought. “Maybe if I was more obvious he’d have caught on”, You looked at him with a sad smile.

Mattheo hated seeing that smile on your face, and how your eyes dulled. And he felt himself bringing up thoughts he had, not sure why though. “Maybe he is oblivious to something special. A dick move on his part”, he slowly moved closer to you.

You watched him closely, still fuelled by the liquor in your system you kept going. “Maybe it is. But, again, I never said anything. I assumed from the way he would open doors for me, or greet me first thing in the morning, or even hold my hand, that there was something”.

Mattheo nodded as he came to stand before you. “Well, taking that into account, he might have felt something. But he didn’t entirely know what it meant. If you are close though, he should have asked you”, he was confessing that he knew he should have asked you when he had thought too.

The next words out of your mouth sealed it for him. “Yes, you should have asked me”.

Staring into each other's eyes, Mattheo didn’t say another word. He leaned down and planted his lips upon your own. The kiss was slightly rough, but you still felt that spark. Both of you felt the butterflies in your stomach. Your hands reached out and grasped at his white dress shirt, while he leaned his left arm on the wall next to your head, bringing your bodies closer, his right hand cupping your cheek. Pulling back briefly you looked at each other and smiled. Mattheo then went back in for another kiss, this time deepening the kiss. It sent your mind reeling, and somewhat sobering you up. This was really happening, this moment you had daydreamed about was actually happening.

While you and Mattheo made out in the hallway, Lorenzo came up the stairs and turned down the hallway. He was looking for Mattheo, at the request of Anna. For the brunet had left her without much of a reason, and he had been gone for a while which made her worry. Looking upon the hallway in confusion, Lorenzo soon spotted two familiar figures. A smug smile soon formed on his lips after seeing the two snogging away in the hallway. Chuckling to himself he turned away from the pair, and headed back to The Great Hall.

“Guess Theodore and I have a young lady to console” he said to himself walking down the staircase and going back to what was left of the Ball.

A/N: as always, constructive feedback welcome. Also please see pocs of dress and necklace.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheoxreader

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