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t-o-m-hollands · 3 years

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Summery: You and Tom bet on who will touch the other first after he comes home from filming. Both refusing to give in you resort to some teasing measures to get the other one to break.

Pairing; Tom + female reader.

Themes: Light-hearted, lots of teasing. Established relationship. Fluff. Cocky Tom. Cocky reader too, let’s face it. They are both stubborn idiots. Lots of horniness all around. To be honest, very little plot and mostly smut. Bit of fluff as well though.

Warnings: Unprotected sex in established relationship. Masturbation. This work is strictly +18.

A/N: Not beta-read, I’m wine drunk and wrote this in like 2,5 hours so it is what it is.

It was such a stupid fucking bet and he wish he never agreed to it. It is all your fault, he decides, as he watches you bend over into downward dog, your breathing rhythmic and even as you stretch your beautiful body. He tries to look away from your ass, honestly he does, but you’re wearing those light grey yoga pants that practically has him drooling and the fabric is hugging your body so perfectly it would be a crime to look away.

Plus, he’s pretty sure that’s the whole point of you doing this, practicing yoga in the living room right in front of him as he’s supposed to be working. The whole point is to have him staring, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

It had all started the week before he was set to return from filming. He had teased you (and sure, in retrospect that was a terrible idea and he should have known better) had said that you would jump him the first chance you got, that he probably wouldn’t even get through the door before you had him out of his jeans. You had retaliated with an accusation that he would be the one all over you and obviously he had to deny that.

It had spiraled, neither one of you willing to give in and admit defeat and now here you are; a full day after his return and he hasn’t as much as hugged you.

Because whoever touches the other first loses the bet.

And now here you are, in front of him; wearing skin tight yoga pants and bending over.

A part of him, the midsection of his body to be precise, wants to just give in; to hand you the victory - fuck his pride. But the part of him, the rational part he likes to think, that has him bashing up golf clubs every time his dad beats him in a golf round; refuses to give in.

So what if he hasn’t seen you, hasn’t felt your body in over three months? Or that he now has your magnificent ass right in his face as he’s trying to concentrate on his dull emails. So what? He’s not faced by that, he’s a man of the world after all.

You lean forwards again until you’re on the ground, turn to your back and start to slowly but steadily push your hips up and down, in what Tom can only assume, is referred to as the ghost fucking position.

“Aren’t you supposed to answer emails?” You ask and he doesn’t even need to look at your face to know that you have a smug smile on your face.

“I am” he mutters, looking away from your body on the floor and back to his phone screen.

You laugh, and he pretends not to hear it, while you pretend that the visible hard-on he’s sporting doesn't make you want to climb into his lap and give in to both of your temptations.

The bet was stupid and totally his idea.

Tom comes out of the shower, drops of water still pouring from his wet hair onto his sculpted chest. The only thing he’s wearing is the white towel wrapped around his waist and the silver Rolex on his wrist. Seeing you standing in the kitchen and slicing tomatoes he sends you his widest smile.

And you thought you were playing unfair with the yoga.

He sits down by the bartop, all bare chested and golden. “Anything I can help with?” he asks as you place the tomatoes in the salad bowl. “A change of music perhaps?”

You throw a left over piece of tomato at him and it hits him square in the chest. He just smiles wider, completely unfaced. “Leave my dinner playlist alone, yeah?” You tell him, resisting the urge to give him the finger.

“So tense” he snickers and leans his head to the side, “I know what could help you relax.”

“Throwing more tomatoes at you? Because we need them in the salad, Thomas.”

He stands up and moves around the kitchen island until he’s behind you, careful as not to touch, framing you against the bench with his strong arms on either side of your body. You can smell him, fresh out of the shower, feel the warm radiate from his body; it is as he’s already holding you. He’s so close, it’s like every cell in your body is reaching out for him.

And it’s been so long.

Three months of twisting and turning alone in bed, of only your own hands as company and him on the phone screen as he encourages you; tells you how goddamn gorgeous you look fucking yourself for him. Three months of only seeing him on the phone; not being able to touch him and feel him for yourself, to taste his skin. To just see him spill all over his own hand instead of being there, catching it all with your tongue.

But it will have to wait a little while longer, because although you might love him, and the way he makes you feel, there’s no way you’re giving in just yet.

Slowly turning around, carefully as not to touch him, you reach for the bottle. “You can open this, since you wanted to help” you say and hand him the wine, “that would help me relax.”

He smiles, unbothered by his failed attempt at luring you to defeat, and steps back. You stir the pasta sauce, trying not to look at his bare chest as he’s leaning over the kitchen counter, looking for something. Finally he finds the corkscrew and sits back again at the bar table. He gets to work with opening the bottle, his strong veined hand wrapped around the throat of the bottle, as the other inserts the screw. His brow is furrowed in concentration and he’s biting his lip. Around his wrist the Rolex watch reflects in the light. Uncorking the bottle he pours blood red liquid into two wine glasses and hands you one before taking a sip from his own, brown eyes looking at you from over the rim of his glass.

“Put a fucking shirt on, Thomas” you mutter, going back to chopping vegetables.

The song and dance of torturing each other continues for the following two days. What goes on between you can only be described as a red-hot war.

“Oh for fuck sake!” Tom’s voice booms over the living room.

“Too direct?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“No, no not at all” he answers, voice dripping with sarcasm, “no please, keep deep-throating the banana, it’s incredibly subtle.”

Slowly he wakes, blinking into the dark night. The alarm clock on his bedside table tells him that it’s just after 2 am and for a few long seconds he stares at it.

A rustling of sheets beside him in bed and it hits him. He’s home, home in his own bed with you laying next to him, as it should always be. Except that things aren’t the way it should be.

Because of that stupid goddamn bet.

The sheets rustle again and he wonders if you are awake as well. But then he hears it; a soft moan.

Turning over in bed at lighting speed he stares down at you. “Are you fucking touching yourself?” He asks, heatedly.

Your answer is another soft moan as you look up at him, pupils blown wide and lips parted. Tearing of the duvet he looks down at your naked body, at you hand, covered in slick, moving over your clit.

Fuck.

He moves over, leans over you; his legs on either side of yours and his arm on each side of your face, carefully making sure that he isn’t touching you. A slight catch of breath is all the sign you give of having been surprised, your hand keeping it’s gentle pace.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, voice low in the quiet room.

“You” is your breathless reply, “you touching me.”

“Think this is how I would touch you?” He asks, snickering. He’s holding his body over you, looking into your lust-filled eyes. “I’d go much slower at first, tease you. Slowly move around your clit until your hips are bucking up and you're begging me for more”.

He moves his head, so that his lips are almost touching yours. Almost.

“You’re so good at begging after all” he murmurs against your lips, moving his boxer clad hips so that they almost touch you and you groan, your face telling of vexation and volatile bliss. But you do as he says, follow his instruction with the movement of your hand.

“Good girl” he whispers softly against your lips.

“Then I’d slide one fingers inside that wet cunt, still slow; still teasing.”

You whine, but you do as he says. Slowly you move one finger in and out of yourself, as the other hand is still circling your clit. “Need more” you moan but he just smiles.

“Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He teases with a devilish grin, tilting his head to the side, looking down at you with sparkling eyes. “But your hands are smaller than mine, so maybe you should add another finger.”

You insert your middle finger as well; and moan. “Faster” you beg, but he shakes his head and so a string of curses fall out your mouth and all he can do is smile at it.

“That filthy fucking mouth of yours” me mutters.

“Well if you shove your dick into it instead then this stupid fucking bet will be over and we’ll both get off.”

“You know, I’ve really missed your fantastic sense of humor while I’ve been away” he answers dryly, but with a smile.

“Tom” you whine. “I need more.”

He wants to kiss you so badly, to press his lips against yours and taste you; to remove his boxers and sink into you in one swift movement until your hoarse and wanton whines turn into satisfied moans, soft and sweet like honey.

“Go on then, darling” he says, voice huskier than usual in the dark night. “Speed up for me.”

You do, your body hungry for satisfaction, hunting your orgasm with determent, sharp movements.

“Fuck,” he swears, “fuck you’re soaked.” He looks down at your wet slit, your rapidly moving fingers, your hips bucking up to meet your hand. Looking back into your wild eyes he groans, his mouth still dangerously close to yours.

“The whole room smells of you” he moans, and it’s true. The scent of your arousal mixes with the scent of your perfumed skin and this is the closest he’s been so far to falter; to give in to temptation.

Your head is thrown back against the pillows, throat exposed, soft moans escaping freely. He wants to touch you everywhere, feel the softness of your skin with his rough hands, his wet mouth, his teeth. He’s breathing hard and he hasn’t even been touched, but he feels the want of touching you in his bones.

He wants to wrap his lips around your hardened nipples. To suck, bite, lick and kiss them until you fall over the edge.

“So fucking beautiful” he breathes out. Even if he had wanted to he wouldn't have been able to look away from you. “But it’s my hand your fucking, remember? Think I’d wouldn’t fuck you harder than that?”

And god, he wish it was his hand you were fucking, wish he could feel you come; hot and wet and pulsing around his fingers. Instead he is left to watch. Watch as the movements of your hand speeds up until fucking yourself with a carnal kind of need, until you fall apart at the seams; luscious bliss spreading over your features, and your tense body relaxes until you soften against the mattress; loose limbed and starry eyed.

And he is left to take care of the his erection all on his own.

A thin layer of sweat is covering his chest and his muscles are taut as he forces his arms to carry his weight into another push-up.

“Thirty-six” he groans out, his voice strained and deep from the physical effort, curls of brown hair falling over his face as he lowers himself to the ground again. “Thirty-seven.”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, your eyes fixed on the muscles of his back, and the way they move as he moves.

You feel agitated and frantic and in that moment you want nothing more than to lay down beneath him; look up at him as move above you with swift, powerful moments. It’s beyond reason, the carnal tug inside you as you watch him and it is absolutely maddening that he hasn’t given in yet to his desire; because you know he desires you, have seen it in his dark eyes, always following you around the room, over the last few days.

But you are not going to be the first one to give in.

“Forty-two” he moans out, and the sound of his heavy breathing and deep groans vibrate somewhere far inside you.

You’re not.

You just need a change of tactic, that’s all.

The pub is packed tonight, but the more secluded pool area section is scarce of people. Tom sips on his beer, scrolling through instagram; waiting for you, as the speakers blast out ‘Galway Girl’ for what feels like the hundredth time since he came in. He’s been visiting a friend while you’ve been at work, having decided this morning to meet up at the pub after for a meal and a game of pool.

A text pops up on the screen, beside your picture. It simply says ‘Look up’.

He does. And fuck.

Oh, fuck no.

Oh, for all that is holy, surely you wouldn’t be that cruel to him.

Not the white shorts.

Not the white shorts you had worn last summer, the ones you know very well turns him on like nothing else. The ones you had worn that time when you had driven down to the beach on bonfire night; the time when you pulled him aside from the rest of the company and he had ended up fucking you against the birch wood tree just some meters away from all your friends, your shorts around your ankles and your nails digging into his back as you tried to bite back you moans.

Surely you wouldn’t be this cruel to him, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. He hasn’t had sex in over three months and you show up looking like this and he’s pretty sure he’s going to die.

He’s just not sure about whether this is going to be heaven

or hell.

He watches you as you walk through the pub with long confident strides, the goddamn heels you're wearing extending your legs, and the fabric of the white tank top stretching over your chest. Your lips are painted blood red, as if you are ready for battle.

He’s not the only one in the pub staring at you but you keep your eyes fixed on him, burning into his eyes, as you move across the floor.

“Honey” you greet him. “Got one of those for me as well?” You nod to the beer in his hand, frozen mid movement to his mouth.

“Why?” He asks, trying to regain the upper hand. “Feeling thirsty?”

You laugh dryly, looking down at his crotch, where he’s painfully aware a bulge is showing. Instead of commenting on it he hands you the other beer bottle he ordered and watches as you wrap your red lips around the opening, swallowing down. He feels warm all over in the stuffy pub and he pulls at the collar of his t-shirt.

He reaches for the cue sticks and hands you one. “Alright, darling” he sighs, knowing very well what kind of teasing hell you are about to put him through tonight, “let’s play.”

The playlist has gone from Ed Sheeran songs to Mumford & Sons and the pub is still packed with people, though the pool area remains empty apart from you and Tom. It's warm in there and Tom takes big gulps from his third beer of the night. He can feel sweat forming on his back, his brow, his chest.

You’re not helping the situation. Although he’s pretty certain that helping is opposite of what you’re trying to do.

“You’re so fucking annoying” he whines, as he watches you hit the white ball perfectly, resulting in two of your striped balls ending up in the pockets. He’s leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and mouth in a thin line.

He fucking hates losing.

“You know what you should do?” You ask, lining up against the table, arched back as you bend over with your cue stick; giving him a full view of your fucking fantastic thighs, “try to fuck it out of me.” You hit another perfect shot and a third ball goes in. You look over your shoulder at him, still bent over the table, and wink.

Standing up straight you turn to him. Swaying your hips to the music you lift the beer bottle to your red lips and you swallow a mouthful. Placing the bottle next to you on the side of the pool table you walk over to him, standing so close you’re almost touching.

Almost

In fact, you might as well be, for he can smell your perfume, mixing with the scent of your shampoo. Can feel the heat radiate of your warm body. It’s been so long since he’s held you and his entire body is painfully aware of it.

With your lips just centimeters from his you whisper; voice husky and low, “I know how bad you want me, honey.” You move your face so that you’re almost kissing the stubble on his cheek, mouth nearly pressed against it.

“You want my hands” you whisper again, looking up at him, your hand hovering right over his erection, carefully as not to touch it, and he nearly bucks out to meet your hand. He’s glad that the area is more secluded, part of the wall hiding the pair of you from view. It feels like there’s just the two of you in the entire world; might as well be for all he cares right now. A blush colours his cheeks as he stares back at you.

“You want my mouth” you breathe against him, your lips curled into an evil smile. “You want my tongue” and you lick your lips before biting it, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You wish I was on my hands and knees right now, so you could fuck my mouth.” you finish.

His skin feels tight and overheated, but he keeps his tone casual as he replies, “actually I wish you were bent over the table so spank that arse of yours, but sure, I wouldn’t say no to a blowie.”

“What’s stopping you? You think you can hold on forever? You know I’m not going to give in, Tom. You know me. Can you imagine going to sleep tonight? Untouched? Again?”

There’s no use he thinks as he plunges in for a kiss, pulling you tight against him; eager to touch as much as you as possible with impatient hands.

He tried to beat the devil at her own game and he lost.

“Think you lost, honey” you say between kisses as he’s pressing you up against the front door.

“Don’t give a flying fuck love, just keep touching me and I’ll die a happy man.” His voice is breathless and hoarse and his hands are all over you; as if he can’t get enough. Your hand is in his soft hair, holding on, as the other is cupping the bulge in his trousers, stroking him through the fabric as he whimpers in your ear.

“We should probably get inside,” you whisper. “Unless you want your neighbors to witness me give you a hand job on the front steps.”

He groans, but steps away from you. His hair is ruffled and his pupils are blown wide, spit from your previous kissing covering his lower lip. You imagine you look just as disheveled.

“Think you need to learn a lesson in delayed gratification” you tease, not being able to stop yourself.

His eyes go even darker and he takes a step forward again, cups your chin and looks you straight in the eye in a way that has bolts of excitement shoot up your spine. “Before the night is over” he says in a slow, gruff voice, “I will teach you all there is to know about delayed gratification.”

He digs in his pockets, pulls out his keys and unlocks the front door, guiding you in with a hand on your lower back.

He feels as if someone has lit a match under his skin. His whole body is screaming with vehement urgency for yours. His hands can’t get enough of you; his lips never want to leave your soft lips again. Your soft little noises are filling his head and he hardly even registers your hands unzipping his jeans; until you’re pulling them, alongside his boxers, off of him in a sharp tugging notion.

“Filthy girl, I fucking love you” he moans out between kisses as you wrap your soft hand around his hard cock.

He pulls at your tank top and for a moment your skin separates entirely from his as you step away, so that he can remove the fabric from you. Yanking at the goddamn jeans shorts he pulls them down around your ankles and you step out of them. Your underwear soon follows suit along with his t-shirt until you both are free of any inconvenient clothing.

He needs your warm and soft skin pressed against his, needs your soft little moans in his ear as he fucks into you, needs the taste of your sweet skin on his tongue.

He lifts you up on the bed and soon follows suit. Reaching down he slips a finger between your legs, feels how wet and warm and slick you are and groans loudly against your shoulder.

Lining up against you, cock in hand he looks at your lust filled eyes. “Next time I’ll go slow, yeah? I’ll take my time.”

Your answer is your hands on his shoulder, pulling him against you and he slips inside you with an ecstatic moan. You moan as well, wrap your legs around his hips. He starts moving, thrusting in and out of you with greedy dragged out jabs. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and mixes with your whimpering mewls.

You are so hot and tight and wet around him and the pleasure is so intense it’s bordering on painful. His face is so close to yours, it is as if you are sharing breaths.

He wants to punch himself from denying himself this for several days when he already had to go without for months.

“Did you think your hands could stand in for mine while I was away? That it could measure up at all?” He asks you, voice thick with lust. He’s so full of want for you and you’re all soft noise and wandering hands. Your warm breath on his even warmer skin. His lips on your nipples; kissing, sucking, biting.

You writhe beneath him, unable to lay still as you buck your hips up to meet his; fucking into him. He’s not going to last long but neither is you and holding on is a losing battle. Like he said, next time he will go slower, gentler, softer. Drag it out for an entire night. But you both have too much built up pressure inside you to last now. He feels like a bomb about to go off, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine, as he fucks into you with even greater force. You’re hot and swollen and hugging onto him so perfectly he feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to come soon.

But he knows that you are close. Feels it in your nails, dragging along his back, in the sharp movements of your thrusts, in your laboured breathing against his shoulder. He feels it in the way your cunt squeezes around him.

“I’m coming” you whimper and he wants to cry from the relief as he feels you spasm around him.

“Fuck” you moan out as your breathing calms down, and he’s holding you pressed against his chest. “Haven’t had a decent orgasm in months, I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“You really can’t function without me, can you?” he says with a smug smile and honestly, hadn’t you’ve been so blissed out you probably would have bitten him.

A/N: I honestly don’t know if any of this made sense. I’m drunk and tired and I’m going to bed. If you read it, please leave your thoughts.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader

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lostinthewiind · 3 years

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Piss Off Your Parents - Part 8

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 7

Next → Part 9

Feeling a body shift beside you, you slowly began to wake from your deep, dreamless sleep. With thin rays of sunlight shining through the crack between the curtains, you let a content, sleepy smile toy at the corners of your lips as you rolled over in Keishin's arms and came face to face with his sleeping form.

It had been over a week since you had started staying with Keishin and even though waking up beside someone every morning definitely took some getting used to, you were a little surprised by just how quickly it was beginning to feel normal. Not only that, but you never slept better than you did in Keishin's bed with his warm, calming presence beside you and strong, protective arm draped over your waist.

Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, Keishin was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell rhythmically and at some point during the night, just like every other night, his hair—which wasn't tamed by the headband while he slept—had gotten all messed up and a few strands had fallen into his face.

Whenever you woke up before him, you would always take the chance to just look at him. While he slept, he seemed completely and utterly at peace—no longer burdened by the stress of coaching volleyball, working at the store, and no doubt whatever extra problems you had brought into his life. You thought back to the time you had watched him sleeping on the couch in the back room and sighed happily; the thought of how much things had changed in such a short period of time truly putting things into perspective.

Unable to keep your hands to yourself any longer, you reached out slowly and brushed the loose strands of hair out of his face and tucked them behind his ear—the same way you had done when you two had first had sex and the same way you had done countless times since.

Keishin could sleep through a thunderstorm or the sound of you calling out his name, but as soon as he felt your fingertips graze against his cheek, his eyes fluttered open. Upon noticing he was awake, you made your touch more prominent and caressed his face.

"Good morning," you whispered, unwilling to raise your voice any more than that and ruin the soft ambiance of the early morning.

Keishin leaned into your touch and smiled softly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you answered as you ran your thumb along his bottom lip, internally debating if you should ambush him with kisses now or wait until he had woken up a little more first. Chuckling to yourself over your own thoughts, you caught yourself staring at his lips and directed your gaze back to his eyes. "I'm just looking at you."

Keishin scoffed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your thumb. "Why?"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're asleep," you told him matter-of-factly. "Not that you don't always look beautiful," you added quickly before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

Keishin rolled his eyes before pulling you flush against his chest and kissing you. "You're such a sap, you know that?"

You laughed. "First, I'm dramatic. Now I'm a sap. What's next?"

"I have no idea." Keishin shrugged the best he could while lying down. "What I do know, however," he glanced at the clock, "is that we need to get up and get ready."

Following Keishin's gaze to the time, you huffed sadly when you noticed there were only five minutes left until your alarm would go off, forcing you to get ready to open the store. "Can't we just stay in bed all day?" you asked, hoping you could convince him to stay under the covers with you.

"Not unless we want to go broke and end up living under a bridge together."

You chuckled as Keishin crawled out of bed, the temptation of slapping his ass gently when he stood up almost too much but you managed to control yourself. "Together?" You grinned. "You'd stay with me even if we were both dirt poor?"

Keishin rolled his eyes playfully at your takeaway from his statement. "Of course." He collected his clothes before making his way around to your side of the bed and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But I think I like plumbing and heating too much to give them up, so let's shower and get ready."

Sitting up in bed, you cocked an eyebrow. "You want to shower together?"

Keishin flashed a devilish smirk as he headed for the bathroom. "Purely for the purpose of saving water." He disappeared into the bathroom and seconds later his boxers flew out and landed on the floor, indicating he was completely nude. "But if you hate the planet, then I guess that's on you."

Your cheeks flushed red but nevertheless, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and began removing your clothes as you approached the bathroom. "Sure," you laughed as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself and let your eyes wander over Keishin's wet, naked body as he stood under the steaming water. "If it's for the planet, how could I possibly say no?"

20 minutes of passionate kissing and soapy hands exploring every inch of each other's body later, the two of you towelled off and finished getting ready before sitting down for a quick breakfast together.

"So the volleyball team has a game today, right?" you asked Keishin as you poured milk into your bowl of cereal. Keishin nodded. "What time do you think you will be home?"

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Probably around six or seven tonight. The game is right after school so it shouldn't run too late."

"Okay." You sat down across from him at the table. "Should we get dinner after I close up the shop?"

Keishin nodded again. "Sounds like a plan."

With a few more bites of his breakfast, Keishin was setting his dishes in the sink, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, and rushing down the stairs and out of the building to start his day.

As you listened to his footsteps stomp down the stairs, followed by the sound of the back door opening and closing to indicate that he had left, you sighed to yourself and sat back in your chair. It was then that you took a minute to think about everything; your job, your boyfriend, your living arrangements, your tattered relationship with your parents. In the span of a few months, your life had completely turned upside down, but that wasn't the part that freaked you out the most.

What really got you thinking was the fact that, even though your life had done a complete 180, you had never been happier; which led to the constant internal questioning about if you had ever really been happy before you had met Keishin at all, or if this was just a different kind of happy—a happy that only a stable, supportive significant other could provide.

Before you had the chance to get lost in your thoughts, you snapped out of it, finished your breakfast, and headed downstairs to open the shop and begin your day.

As usual, you dealt with the typical morning rush of people stopping in to grab a coffee or other various food items on their way to work or school. Once the mid-morning slump hit and the customer traffic went way down, you took the time to do some routine cleaning and inventory. By now, you were like a well-oiled machine when it came to the daily task of running the store.

Around noon, as you were finishing up stocking some shelves, the front door opened and a very well-dressed man strolled into the store. "Hello," you greeted him, standing from where you were kneeling in front of the shelves and dusting off your pants.

The man gave you a once over, eyeing you from head to toe. Without so much as an acknowledging nod, he brushed past you and toward the full-length fridges at the back.

Assuming the man just wasn't in a chatty mood, you took the empty boxes to the storage room. When you exited, the man was already standing at the front counter, impatiently tapping his foot while he held two bottles of water in his hands.

"Sorry for the wait," you apologized. "Just the waters today?"

The man just nodded and let out a grunt.

Trying not to take his dismissive attitude too seriously, you rang up his purchases and gave him the total. Instead of pulling out his wallet, however, he just gave you a dirty look.

"That's a little expensive for two bottles of water, don't you think?" he retorted.

You didn't know what to say to that, so you shrugged. "I'm sorry, I don't make the prices, sir," you told him. "I just work here."

Huffing loudly, the man fished his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out some bills before tossing them haphazardly onto the counter. "Fine. Don't forget my change."

Before you could open the cash register, the front doors opened again and a woman dressed in a beautiful dress with her hair done up elegantly walked in and stopped beside the man before you. "Have you paid yet?" she asked the man, who was either her boyfriend or husband based on the way she was hanging off of his arm. "I just realized I'm out of cigarettes."

"I'm just paying now," he told her, his face softer than you had seen it yet before he turned back to you and asked for the brand of cigarettes that his partner smoked.

Spinning around, you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the empty dispenser of cigarettes, meaning that you were out of the brand he had requested. Of course, the delivery for that day hadn't come in yet, making your job even harder right now.

Plastering the warmest smile on your face that you could muster, you turned back to the couple. "I apologize, but we are all out of that brand. Can I get you something else?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "No, everything else tastes like garbage."

"I see." You stepped back up to the cash register. "So just the waters then?"

The man nodded. "I guess so if your shitty little store doesn't even stock up on popular brands of cigarettes." He watched you intently as you opened the register and counted his change. "I knew we should have stopped somewhere other than this hole in the wall."

As much as you so desperately wanted to rip this man and his spoiled girlfriend a new one, you bit your tongue instead and grinned as you handed him back his change. "Here you are." You dropped the coins into his outstretched hand. "Have a wonderful day."

Neither one of them said anything in response as they turned on their heels and marched out of the store, noses turned up at everything around them. As you watched them get into their fancy car and speed away, you wondered if they treated everyone like that or just lowly corner store workers like yourself.

Trying to let the incident slide off of you like water off of a duck's back, you returned to the remaining tasks on your to-do list and tried to forget all about being treated like a second-class citizen.

As the day turned to late afternoon and the after-school and after-work rush hit, you had found your way back into your groove again.

An hour or so before closing time, and roughly around the time Keishin would be returning, you heard a pair of heels clacking against the tile floor and stood up front behind the counter only to come face-to-face with your mother. Dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, it was obvious she had just come from work, but your attention was more focused on the envelope she was holding out to you.

"This came for you the other day." She didn't even bother with a simple greeting even though it had been weeks since you had seen or spoken to her or your father.

"Oh, okay." You reached out and took the envelope from her. Turning it over, you felt your heart jump into your throat when you read that it was from the University of Tokyo.

You looked up at your mother expectantly but she waved you off. "Don't ask me what it says, I didn't open it," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Why didn't you tell your father and me that you applied to the University of Tokyo? It's a very good school."

"Because I didn't do it for you," you said as you tucked the envelope into your back pocket. "And I certainly didn't do it to go to law school or anything you guys would approve of."

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you. "Then why did you do it?"

"To play soccer," you answered, your mind immediately going to the conversation you had had with Keishin while taking inventory together. "And because I told someone I would."

Your mother eyed you for a minute more, waiting to see if you would reach for the envelope again to open it. When you made no indication of sharing your application results with her, she hummed softly. "Well, whatever that letter says, you should take some time to seriously consider what your next step is going to be." She turned to leave but stopped halfway to the door and looked at you over her shoulder. "It's not too late to make the right choice. Think carefully before you throw your life away."

With that, your mother exited the store, leaving you with a mixed slurry of emotions and no clue how to deal with any of them.

Pulling the envelope out of your back pocket, you set it down on the counter in front of you and stared at it. Whatever was printed on the single piece of paper inside would set a course for your future . . . although you were unsure if you even still wanted the future that this piece of paper could give you.

All you wanted was to be happy, and all you knew was that Keishin gave you that.

Anything more felt like asking for too much.

Anything more felt like a gamble that wasn't worth the risk.

#piss off your parents #part 8 #haikyuu #haikyuu!!!#sexy time #haikyuu smut #lostinthewiind #reader insert #reader imagine #x reader #ukai keishin #ukai #ukai x reader

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daddynegandesires · 3 years

Text

Secrets chapter 2

Summary: negans jealousy and temptation starts to escalate when he starts coming around trying to fit his way back into your life while also showing jack who the man of the house is but jack may also have secrets of his own no one knows about.

🛑Warning: fluff, major smut, saddness, jealousy, cheating,fighting 🛑

@jazzy1118

18+

Sitting on your bed with mascara tears streaming down your face holding onto old pictures of you,negan and ellie. Jack walks in and you quickly wipe your tears and shove the pictures under the pillow before he notices.

"Hey baby...whats wrong?" Jack slides in next to you

"Oh nothing haha" you sniffle and play it off all cool

"You looked beautiful lastnight...i realized i forgot to tell you" he said brushing a strand of hair behind your ear leaning in to kiss you softly. Jack resches inbetween your skirt automatically causing your legs to spread apart inviting him in. He reaches his other hand up your shirt grabbing your boob gently squeezing it in his hand you begin to quickly unbutton your blouse breathing heavier when the front door opens. You frantically pull your shirt back together terribly and tugging at your skirt when you exit the room to see negan and ellie standing in the living room.

" have you ever heard of calling or sending a text!!??" You cross your arms over your chest with a few buttons still loose allowing your black lace bra to peak out

"Well....looks like youve been busy" negan takes off his glasses sliding them ontop of his head

"I just thought id come by and cookout for ellie.." He grins pulling out steaks and ribs from a grocery bag.

"Oh! I brought wine too...your favorite"

"Cook out!?...wha" you followed behind him outside to the patio slamming the door behind you.

"So you think you can just walk into my house acting like you own the place saying you want to "cook out" for ellie!!??" By now you are almost inces away from him

Negan flicks on the grill and then grabs you gently by your face.

"I believe its my house too.....my name is also on the deed" he relases his hand and then walks past you back inside

You scoff to yourself as you stand there trying to process what is going on when jack comes outside.

"Im heading out for work...also whats up with him?"

"I..uh...he is cooking out for ellie i suppose" you said running your finger's through your messy hair

"I see.....well ill see you later, message me!" He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before hopping into his car and driving off. You sigh to yourself opening the door walking back into the kitchen seeing negan rubbing up the meat with spice's and ellie downing a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Negan! Seriously you gave her ice cream before dinner" you quickly took the spoon and bowl away from ellie before she could cram another spoonful in her mouth

"Whaaat let the kid live alittle...." He looks at ellie giving her a goofy face

You go over to dump out the ice cream in the trash can before dropping the dish in the sink next to negan you caught yourself looking at him his jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up exposing his toned arms and rough hands. His black glasses resting on his face and his perfect salt and pepper hair. You always have had a thing for men a bit older than you and negan fit that image perfectly...jack was much younger than negan which you never would of guessed going for a younger man would be good for you.

"Mommy!!"

"Huh..yes honey?" Causing you to snap out of your thought's

"Can daddy stay the night we can stay up and was scawry moviessszz!!?" Ellies face lit up with excitment

"Oh. Sweetie im sorry but daddy cant stay the night" bending down to her level caressing her cheek

"Uuuuggghhhhh!! No fair!!" Ellie screams at the top of her lungs and starts flailing her arms

"Ellie! Do not act like that towards your mother!" Negans deep strong voice boomed in the kitchen almost making you weak at your knees. Ellie ran off to her room and slammed the door.

"That sassy girl" negan said looking at you through the top of his glasses

"Thank you...." You sighed exhaustedly while popping the cork off of the wine bottle and filling your cup up

"Mmmm...." Swallowing the sweet red wine feeling it flow down your throat

"So....you and younger guys huh?" Negan chuckled while washing his hands

"Something new...nothing wrong with that" you said taking another sip of your wine

"thought you had a fetish for older men....whats it called? Daddy issues"

"I guess you could say that...." Pouring more wine into your glass

"Sure sure..." Negans voice died out as he walked off to the bathroom

Negan came back into the kitchen grabbing the tray of meat outside and slapping it on the grill. You followed behind him wine glass in hand.

"So...was it you that told ellie to ask me if you could stay the night?" Raising an eyebrow

"Shouldnt you go get another glass of wine" negan chuckles

"Ya know...your cooking was always the best" chugging down the rest of your glass

" i think the wine is starting to talk haha" negan closed the lid to the grill folding his arms over his chest

---------

I was cleaning up the mess in the kitchen while ellie and negan were snuggled up on the couch watching friday the 13th together. Hearing negan be playful and caring with ellie really makes your heart happy. A part of you wishes things could have been diffrent between the two of you that is your babygirls father of course you love the both of them but being with negan just isnt in your future right now.

"Mommy come in here!"

You finished putting dishes away when you walked in there and sat down by negan he kept looking over at you grinning while ellie jumped at the scary scenes with jason Voorhees.

"So...hows the team going?"

"Good...good the boys are a handful" negan chuckled

"You were always a great coach you really pushed those boys to do great things" giving him A sweet smile

Talking about school with negan was always a touchy topic. He runs a basketball team at the local highschool......thats also where he was cheating on me with one of the english teachers.

"She is out like a light... My sweet girl." Negan was running his fingers through ellies long red hair when he looked over at you realizing you had fell asleep on his shoulder too. Negan picked up ellie and took her to her bed and tucked her in when he came back you were slightly awake.

"Thank you..." You said tiredly

"For what baby..." He said in a low deep voice

"For dinner and taking ellie to bed...its hard doing it alone sometimes..." You began to feel really vulnerable and kinda felt unsettling with negan calling you baby

"Jack should be home soon he gets off late.." You raised up off the couch

"You want me to leave...." Negan asked with puppy dog eyes

"Negan....you have to go im sorry"

"Baby....you know i never meant to hurt you" negan pulled you back down to sit on the couch

"But you did.....what were you thinking....you ruined everything" you were a bit tipsy from the wine and your emotions were just flowing out of you

"I love you negan! And you threw it all away for some fucking teacher at your school!!" You began shoving him

"All you care about is yourself you are so fucking full of yourself...you think you are so fucking amazing!" Now gripping onto his shirt hitting him in the chest he quickly pulled you into a tight hug and you began crying uncontrollably onto his shoulder soaking his tshirt.

"Shhh....im here now i promise you i will do anything..i want to be back in ellies life full time again i miss my girls" negan started to get all choked up holding back tears

"I...i cant right now negan its too soon im still hurting so bad.....im trying to move on from this" wiping the tears away from your eyes

"I understand.....im never going to let you down again all i want is for you and ellie to have a good life even if im not in it"

He stood up pulling you with him he took you to the bedroom and layed you down in bed taking your shoes off for you and tucking you in before jack got back.

"Goodnight" he kisses you on the forehead and leaves

---------

You woke up to ellie jumping and screaming on your bed you looked over to see jack sleeping next to you rubbing at his eyes.

"Good morning beautiful" he leans over and kisses you

"Goodmorning" you chuckled

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" Ellie jumped onto you

"Hi sweetheart mommy sees you" you squeezed her tight in a hug before getting up out of bed

Jack had already gotten up and hopped into the shower when his phone began to ring on his bedside table you eagerly went over and looked at who it was. A girl named Melissa was calling him you just brushed it off and joined him in the shower.

"Hey...." Slipping off your panties and hopping into the shower with him

"Whoa...hey" jack said shocked

You grabbed him by the face and began kissing him hard feeling the hot water stream down your back. He moved his hand down between your legs taking one finger and slowly slipping it inside of you moaning out gripping onto his dick starting to slowly pump it back and forth feeling it grow long in your hand. Before you knew it he flipped you around ramming his cock into you pumping back and forth into your dripping wet pussy. His grip grew tighter on your hip as he started going faster and faster untill you felt an emptyness from him pulling out.

"Im hopping out im gonna let you finish up in here" he slapped your ass and then hopped out and closed the bathroom door behind him

"What a disappointment....." You whispered to yourself as you scrubbed shampoo through your hair knowing that negan would of never left you hanging like that and would of lasted way longer. Turning off the water you coulf faintly here jack laughing and talking to someone over the phone you quickly dried off and opened the bathroom door.

"Who are you speaking to?" You asked slipping on some clothes

"Ohh just a coworker nobody really" he said putting his phone into his pocket and sliding his tie on leaving the room

"Okay then....." You said to yourself

Slipping your shoes on you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee before jack headed off to work. Jack seemed super eager to leave for work today you just brushed it off assuming it was going to be a busy day for him at the office. He kissed you goodbye and took ellie with him to drop her off at daycare. It was just you alone in the house today which meant housework....gross.

You tied your hair up in a bun and began gathering your cleaning supplies you connected your phone to the bluetooth speaker blasting old rock songs. You were down on your hands and knees scrubbing at the floor in your short shorts when you were greeted by two feet infront of your face. You slowly looked up at who it was and it was negan with a huge dirty smirk on his face.

"This all for me doll?" He bit at his lip

"Oh....uh i planned on cleaning house today while everyone was out" you said shyly not realizing you were still on your knees

"I like you down there...on your knees" he slwoly chuckles

"Oh! Sorry....you cant just keep letting yourself in negan..." You quicly shot up to your feet

"You need me to help with anything?" He walks into the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee

"Ugh....The grass needs mowed......" You answered while wiping down the living room table

" jack doesnt mow grass?" Negan began laughing

"Negan...dont" standing there with your hands on your hips you sprayed him with the water bottle

"Hey!.....im just saying i figured young business boys couldnt mow grass anyway" negan walked outside and started up the pushmower.

An half and hour has passed and you finally finished the housework inside. You peaked out the window to see negan finishing up yard work...his shirt was off and he was all sweaty then jack suddenly pulls up causing you to stop gawking at negan.

"You always mow peoples grass" jack called out to negan getting out of the car

"Well, today i do. And maybe even next time...your girlfriend asked me to" negans jaw begins to flex

"Oh really...well" jack rubs at the back of his neck annoyed

"Dont think for a second that you have this all figured out......just setting some ground rules" Negan leans in towards jack and sternly says

Jack glared at negan as he walked past him to go insdie the house.

"Hi sweetie!" You greeted jack with a peck on his cheeck before stepping outside to speak with negan.

"I think you need to go...." You softly said to him trying not to stare at his sweaty toned bare chest

"Cmom doll.....things were getting fun. Jack is really starting to take a liking to me" he chuckles sliding his tongue across his bottom lip

"Negan....this isnt a game" you said picking up the gardening tools and taking them to the garage

"But i like games....and i always win" negan said in his cocky voice following behind you

You slammed down the shovel on the work bench in the garage before you knew it negan flipped you around lifted you up and and sat you ontop of the bench crashing his lips into yours he slid in between your legs grabbing a fist full of your hair yanking your head back as he began biting at your neck.

"Negan...." You moaned softly

"God i miss you moaing my name..."

"N....negan stop" it was so hard to resist him

"I want to have another kid with you....i want to fill myself insdie of you.....please baby" he tugged at your hair harder causing you to moan louder

The hairs on the back of your neck shot up after hearing what he had just said to you. You wrapped your legs tight around his waist and pulled him into you kissing him roughly biting and tugging at his bottom lip. You couldnt control yourself your body was weak negan always knew the right things to say. Negan took his two fingers pulling your yoga shorts aside to his surprise you weren't wearing any panties his finger began to play with your now swollen sensitive clit causing you to whimper out. He sucked on his finger making it wet before bringing it back to your clit gently flicking it faster and faster.

"Negan...im gon-

"(Y/n)...are you in here" jack called out from around the corner of the garage

"Oh shit!" You whispered to yourself before hopping off the work bench approaching jack

"Hey...im going to be going out of town on a business trip soon"

"Oh....well how soon?" You asked curiously

"Like...tonight soon" he quickly stated

"Oh...i see" your voice lowered

"I have to go baby i will keep in touch with you!" He kissed you before slow jogging to his car and leaving

A part of you didnt feel good about jack leaving for a "business trip" if thats really what it was.....something seemed off with him like he was hiding something. You stood from the garage watching him drive down the road untill you couldnt see his car anymore.

"Business trip huh....." Negan questioned walking up beside you

"Yeah...i suppose so" you said zoning out

Negan begins to chuckle and walk past you to his car.

"Wait were are you going!?" You yelled out to him

"Have to go pick up our daughter from daycare" negan calls out from the driver side

"Wait up im coming with you!" Jogging up to his black 1969 camero and hopping in the passenger seat

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

You,ellie and negan were back at the house when you were in the bedroom freshening up when you noticed jack had left his laptop on the dresser. Curiously you walked over and popped it open the screen automatically came on to his emails the very top email read from Melissa.

Hey jack we have that meeting tonight dont forget!😊 im also wearing that little tight dress you love.

You read the message over and over again the words ringing in your head making you feel sick to your stomach you slammed the laptop shut your body shaking full of rage and a adrenaline not knowing what to think or how to feel anymore. You just lay back on your bed zoning out up at the ceiling.

The door to the bedroom opens and its negan with a dirty smirk on his face looking at you layed out on the bed you just want to forget everything you want to feel numb you want to be made to feel dirty...

"Hey..." His deep tone giving you goosebumps

"Fuck me.....i want you to fuck me like the slut i am" you sternly said to him

Negan swiftly ripped his shirt off and yanked down your shorts spreading your legs apart bringing his tongue to your pussy licking your sweet folds brining his tongue down to your opening and all the way back up to your clit teasing you. You begin to grind up against his face while he pumps his cock hearing him moan only made you even more wet. He pulls his mouth away and flips you over slapping you on the ass hard the sting of it felt amazing he spanks you agains and a again before he enters his tip inside of you. Gripping onto the the bedsheets you have almost forgotten how big his cock is streching you open to fit perfectly insdie of you.

"Oh fuck.....god its so tight! You dirty fucking whore" he grunts slowly sliding more of his cock into you pulling your head back by your hair

"I miss you....i want you to fuck me hard..." You begin to rub your clit

Negan starts pumping his cock in and out of you his cock slowly swelling up inside of you and you squeeze down on him feeling all it all. He begins to move faster and faster leaning his face down to yours grabbing onto your throat squeezing it to let you feel that perfect high.

"Fuck...i...i cant keep going much longer" he starts fucking you faster and faster

"I want you to cum in me....please..i want your cum inside of me"! You beg

He lets out a load moan as he finishes inside of you and kisses you hard on the lips before pulling out letting his cum pour out of you all over the bedsheets. Negan pulls up his jeans as he hands you a towel to clean yourself up. You havent felt that amazing in awhile so relaxed and burnt off some built up rage

"All you have to do is ask and im here...." He whispers to you before leaving the room to go check on ellie. You get up from the bed to go take a shower.

"What am i doing......." You say to yourself

"Im so fucking stupid...." You begin to cry and sit with your knees pulled up to your chest in the tub feeling like a peice of shit after what you had just done. You are playing with negans emotions and stabbing jack in the back...what kind of girlfriend and mother am i.

#negan x you #jdm #twd #jeffrey dean morgan #negan fanfic #negan x reader

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Not Exactly a Loophole (but he'll take it)

Luka's got a crush on one of his regulars, but there's just one problem. His mom may not be big on rules, but when it comes to her bar Nanarchy's, the few she has are nonnegotiable--including the rule that employees are not allowed to ask out patrons. With Juleka also pining for a cute customer, Luka's determined to find a loophole...but the universe seems to have its own plans.

Rating: T (mostly for language)

This one is a belated birthday gift, but not for me--for the lovely @mamanabeille! It was meant to be a meet cute featuring EMT Marinette, but bartender Luka kinda stole the spotlight, so it didn’t quite come out like I intended, but I hope you all (and especially MA!) enjoy it anyway!

The bar was nearly empty the first time she walked in, but Luka was sure he would have noticed her in the craziest crowd. She paused in her approach to the bar when she saw him, but when Luka gave her a friendly smile and simply asked what he could get her, she came the rest of the way over and slid onto a stool, ordering her drink in a quiet, hesitant voice, pulling out her wallet..

“I thought Juleka was working tonight,” she said as he took her card and opened a tab for her.

“She will be.” He glanced at the clock. “In about an hour.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “An—“ She frowned, pulling out her phone, and then something seemed to click and she folded her arms, pouting, as he set up to mix her drink. Luka felt like pouting, too, over the fact that Juleka had seen her first. She was really cute.

“They told me the wrong time,” she grumbled. “Because they thought I would be late. Which means I nearly killed myself getting home to change and get back here for nothing .”

“Not for nothing,” Luka said easily. “Juleka’ll be here in an hour. We’re not busy, I don’t mind if you camp out. You look amazing, I’m sure she wouldn’t want to miss you.”

She looked a little confused for a moment, and then her eyes went round and she touched her fingertips to her soft red mouth. “Oh, n-no, I’m not, uh—I mean I don’t um—“

Luka winked at her. “It’s okay, I won’t tell her anything.”

“Rose!” she squeaked, waving her hands so frantically that Luka instinctively slid her drink out of the way. “I’m friends with Rose! She wanted to come while Juleka was working, and I had a—a bad experience at the bar I used to go to, and she said that kind of thing doesn’t happen here, and a bunch of us were supposed to meet up so Rose could fli—TALK! To Juleka and the rest of us could have a drink and hang out in peace but they gave me the wrong time because I’m late for everything, but for once I’m not late and now I’m stuck here with you and—“ She slapped a hand over her mouth and looked so horrified that Luka could only laugh.

“Well, Rose is right, we don’t allow any kind of disrespectful behavior here, my mom’s very strict about it. She values Nanarchy ’s reputation as a safe space and she’s very particular about it. I promise you, being her son wouldn’t excuse me from an ass-kicking if I was inappropriate with you, or stood by while anyone else was, so feel free to hang out and wait for your friends.” He picked up another glass, flipped it in his hand before scooping it full of ice, and then he filled it with water and set it in front of his reluctant customer. “My name’s Luka, just let me know if you need anything.”

He lingered long enough for her to smile tentatively back at him, and then busied himself far enough away from her that she wouldn’t feel crowded, setting up the wells and making sure everything was stocked and topped off before the rush started.

Marinette nursed her drink and pouted, annoyed with her friends for wasting her time this way. Sure, she was always late, but her job was demanding and she wasn’t always in control of when she was able to leave. She couldn’t just ditch Adrien to handle it all, that would be mean. As it was, she’d been late leaving her shift today, and she had scrambled home to get home and get herself presentable and get here in time.

Then she walked in, triumphantly on time and not even in her work clothes, and those losers she called friends weren’t even here! And then she got all confused and tongue-tied and practically preemptively accused the cute bartender of harassment, even though in two minutes of conversation she could tell that he wasn’t anything like that guy that ran Graham’s and—

She groaned quietly and dropped her head on her arms.

Luka didn’t look back at her, but there was a slight quirk of his lips and the tiniest motion of his head in her direction that said he knew she was watching him. He set the two handful of beers he had just picked up on the bar in front of him and dipped a hand in his back pocket, coming out with a bottle opener spinning on one finger. He flicked the caps off the bottles in quick succession and then with another twirl, the bottle opener went back to his pocket like a six-shooter into a cowboy’s holster in some old western. Marinette giggled, and only then did he tilt his head in her direction and wink.

Marinette squeaked and buried her suddenly red face back in her arms. She was pretty sure she heard a low chuckle from down the bar.

Juleka walked in about forty-five minutes later. She took one look at Luka and asked, “What happened?”

“Hmm?” Luka looked up at her from where he was slicing limes.

“That’s the dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your face,” Juleka commented as she tied her apron on. “And that’s saying a lot. What gives?”

“Nothing,” Luka said, resisting the temptation to squirt her with lime juice. It was too early in the evening to escalate that far. “I’m just in a good mood.”

Juleka’s eyebrows raised. “You’re always in a good mood. You don’t always grin like a dope.” Luka opened his mouth to say something rude when they were both distracted by a surprisingly strong but very feminine voice carrying the length of the bar.

“Luka!” Both of them looked down the bar to the pretty dark-haired lady waving at him (and wincing slightly as she realized how loud she’d been), and Luka’s grin grew wider as he waved a hand to acknowledge her.

“I’ll get it,” Juleka said as he reached for a towel to clean his hands.

Luka took a step back to block her from getting around him. “Oh no you don’t. She’s my customer.”

Juleka blinked at him in surprise and then smirked. “Oh. I see.”

“You see nothing,” Luka told her, tossing the towel at her face as he made a beeline down the bar. “Back off. You can serve their table later, but while she’s at the bar, she’s mine.”

“Never knew you were so possessive,” Juleka muttered, moving the towel aside with two fingers and dropping it into the dirty bin with a gesture of distaste.

“Laugh it up, I’m gonna get you back soon,” Luka called back, and turned to his customer. “Doing all right? What can I get for you?” he asked, smiling as he leaned his hands on the bar in front of her.

“My friends are almost here,” she said, setting her phone on the bar where he could see the message chain. “I was going to go ahead and order for them if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Luka said, looking at the list of drinks. When he was sure he had the order, he leaned back and smiled at her. “You can go find a table if you want, I’ll get the drinks ready and have Juleka bring them to you.” He winked, and she giggled.

“That would be perfect. And...thanks, Luka,” she smiled, blushing a little, and he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “My name’s Marinette, by the way. Which...you actually probably knew, because you opened my tab, um...”

“I did,” he grinned, and began setting up glasses on the bar top. “But it’s nice to hear it from you.” Marinette gathered her things slowly; she’d spread out across the bar as she’d waited, with pens and a small notebook and a set of index cards with neat notes scattered across her part of the bar.

Luka pulled his mind to the task, picking up a jigger and flipping it in his hand. Realizing that Marinette was still watching him, he poured some liquor and then gave the jigger a flip around his hand as he made eye contact with Marinette. He had to chuckle when her eyes widened slightly and her face flamed up red. She forgot all about picking up her things as she watched him mix the drinks, and he struggled not to show off too much, amused at her fascination. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and began picking her things up haphazardly. She reached for a pen, but knocked it with her fingers, sending it spinning off the back of the bar.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—” she exclaimed just as Luka’s hand snapped out and caught it before it could fall to the floor. Fortunately he hadn’t been holding anything liquid at the time, and he hastily picked up the shaker he’d dropped on the bar and set it back upright before handing Marinette her pen back.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “No big, Marinette. Relax.”

She was staring at him, her blue eyes round, and slowly she took the pen back from him. “Thanks,” she whispered, and shrank a little, tucking the last few things in her purse.

“My pleasure,” Luka smiled. “Seriously, Marinette, you’re here to unwind. Don’t sweat the small stuff, okay? No pressure here. Just take your time.” He flipped a shaker up over his shoulder and caught it behind his back, and Marinette put her chin in her fist and pouted again.

“How do you do that?” she asked enviously. “I’m such a klutz when I’m not focusing.”

“Practice,” Luka shrugged. “I’ve been working here since I was old enough to be behind the bar, so. It’s not really anything special, but it makes pretty girls smile, so…” He grinned at her, and then motioned behind her. “Table six is the quietest, over there by the wall. I’ll have the rest of these done in just a minute, and—”

“Marinette!” someone squealed from the door and Luka chuckled.

“—And there’s your friends,” he said, as Marinette turned and waved.

She turned back and gave him a smile that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Thanks a bunch, Luka, really. You’ve been great.”

“Any time,” he barely managed to answer, and had to swallow quickly afterwards. He mixed the rest of the drinks on autopilot, his eyes darting back to Marinette as she and her friends settled at their table. He saw the petite blond with her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers, and a quick glance down the bar showed him Juleka standing as if she had been hit in the back of the head with a board, a faint rosy color tinting her pale cheeks.

Luka grinned and loaded the cocktails on a tray before carrying them down to her. “These are for six,” he told her, and she looked at him stupidly. Luka smirked. “You know that saying about people who live in glass houses?” he grinned, nudging her arm before he headed back to the next customer waving for his attention. “Don’t drop anything,” he called back, and heard Juleka snort.

***

Girls Night was no longer the trial that it used to be. Marinette loved everything about Nanarcy’s . Their aesthetic was cool and unique, their atmosphere was fun and chaotic in a controlled way, their live music nights were amazing, and they didn’t overpour, so everybody was only as drunk as they wanted to be at the end of the night.

And their bartenders were hot. Rose was head over heels for the quiet, dark-haired Juleka, and Marinette was pretty well smitten by the kind, gentle man with the shaggy hair and the soft eyes, who never seemed to take offense no matter how many times she put her foot in her mouth. She’d never been as early as she had that first day, but she did rush just a little to beat the girls there, so that she could sit and talk to Luka for a bit before the rush hit.

He was just so nice , and easy to talk to, and perceptive, and she always relaxed after a few minutes in his company.

Unfortunately Marinette couldn’t be early all the time, and the girls were already at their table and there was already a crowd at the bar before she arrived.

She stood on her tiptoes, looking over the crowd, and saw Luka about the same time he saw her. He flashed her a broad grin that set butterflies wild in her stomach. She gave him a small wave and then formed her fingers into a d, their sign that she was the designated driver tonight. She saw him nod, and started working her way through the crowd to the bar.

Luka picked up his napkin and did that funny flick with his fingers that sent it spinning onto the bar right in front of her. Marinette really wanted to know how he did that, but his hand moved so fast she couldn’t follow it no matter how many times she watched him. She saw him chuckle at her pout as he flipped a tumbler in his hand, filled it with ice and soda water, and then set it on the napkin. “Good to see you, Marinette,” was all he had time to say, but his warm, smooth voice still made her melt a little on the inside.

She lingered at the bar for just a moment, watching him joke and banter as he flipped and spun bottles and tumblers and shakers, dropping them to catch behind his back, his movements all smooth and practiced. He’d told her once that what he did wasn’t actually that hard, but it still looked like magic to her. It had surprised her at first; he’d struck her as a quiet, laid-back kind of guy, not someone who enjoyed crowds and attention—but then she’d seen him play with the band one night, and understood. Luka might be quiet on his own, but in front of an audience, he was a performer, and if she’d thought what he did behind the bar was impressive, seeing him on stage with his guitar was, well...breathtaking.

For all that flash, though, it was watching him shake a drink that made her go weak, eyes glued to the lines of his arms and the slight smirk on his face. Marinette picked up her soda and headed back to the girls’ table before she could embarrass herself by swooning on the bar. The girls gave her knowing looks when she arrived, but other than the smirks, they left her mercifully alone about her increasingly obvious crush.

Marinette felt fortunate that Rose was more fun to tease (and safer; Rose didn’t flail and knock over drinks when she got flustered). Rose blushed and denied and then gave herself away by sighing dreamily as she looked at the tall girl behind the bar. Marinette couldn’t help covering a snicker with her hand, though as her gaze followed Rose’s, her traitorous eyes snapped straight to Luka.

He seemed to be in some kind of one-up contest with his sister, the grin on his face positively wicked as he balanced a cocktail on a bar spoon on his forearm—which required to him to keep his arm flexed in a way that made the normally subtle swell of muscles along his arm much more obvious. Marinette groaned and leaned on Rose, who was peeking through her fingertips and trying not to squeal as Juleka rolled her eyes and set up a row of glasses in front of the bar. Twirling a bottle in each hand, Juleka smirked at Luka. Luka was good, but Juleka obviously outmatched him in this context. She was herself beautiful and elegant, with her hair tied back in a thick braid and perfectly done makeup that highlighted her fine bone structure. Her features were a little rounder than Luka’s sharp angles, and she was tall and slender without being as lanky as Luka. The pair of them together were unfairly attractive.

Juleka’s motions at the bar were fluid and graceful, without any wasted movement, and she was fast . She filled the cocktails on the bar in front of her, mixing them up first and then stacking the shakers to pour all four glasses at once. Then she turned to Luka, plucked the glass off of his spoon with a lifted eyebrow, and set it on her tray, swinging it up onto her shoulder. Luka made a laughing gesture that was clearly I surrender , and Juleka smirked as she went around the side of the bar.

“She’s so beautiful,” Rose swooned into Marinette’s side, and Marinette smiled, bumping her shoulder into Rose, who just flopped in the other direction to drape herself over Mylene and sigh some more. Marinette gave her friend an affectionate look, and then tried to school her expression as Juleka appeared at their table, setting cocktails in front of them with practiced ease and a quiet, “Welcome back,” with a subtle smile. Her eyes, though a different color, were as intense as Luka’s, and Marinette thought they stayed focused on Rose for a beat longer than the others. Then Juleka’s gaze flicked to Marinette’s drink and her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Refill?” she asked.

“No thank you,” Marinette said automatically, and Juleka nodded. Those amber eyes flicked back to Rose as she set the last cocktail down in front of her. “Enjoy,” was all she said, but there was a subtle quirk of a smile to her lips, and Marinette could feel Rose freezing like a deer in the headlights at her side. Then Juleka was gone again, her heavy braid swinging behind her, before Rose could even think of anything to say back.

“Ooh,” Rose moaned, frustrated, grabbing her drink.

“Next time,” Mylene said consolingly, patting Rose’s arm. “It’s busy here tonight. I’m sure she’ll be back when there’s more time to chat.”

That was true, Marinette thought, but still...they’d been coming here for weeks and things didn’t seem to be going anywhere. She’d thought Juleka was interested but maybe…

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind,” she said, picking up her glass and sliding out of her seat. “I think I do want a refill.”

“It just tastes better when Luka serves it,” Alix snickered, and Marinette pretended not to hear her as she made her way to the bar. She needed some answers, and maybe it was time to try the direct approach.

Luka was hopeless, he knew, watching Marinette’s table out of the corner of his eye even as he teased Juleka. He didn’t care if it made sense or not; he was crazy into the girl, and her mere presence made him feel more alive.

Juleka snatched his cocktail and Luka had to move quickly to catch the bar spoon and dump it in the bin. He waved Juleka off with a laugh and glanced back at the table again where Marinette was consoling her little blond friend, who was clearly suffering after Juleka’s display. That only made him grin wider.

Luka allowed himself one lovesick sigh. Marinette was so beautiful, and he loved the way she put so much individuality into the way she dressed, and the contours of the muscles in her arms as she waved them about, talking with her hands. She was funny, and she was sweet, and she was smart , and every time she came in he entertained fantasies of quitting on the spot, confessing his love, and running off with Marinette in the rain (he wasn’t sure why it was always raining in his fantasies, but it seemed to fit her for some reason). His mom would probably forgive him. Eventually.

Juleka would kill him though, and besides, he liked his job and he got to see Marinette almost every week. And...maybe he was a little bit chicken. Just a tiny bit. There was every chance that instead of falling into his arms and agreeing to run away with him, Marinette would be startled and freaked out and run away without him, and then he’d be out of a job with a broken heart in the bargain. Just because she liked joking around with him, and watching him (because he definitely didn’t miss her eyes on him, with as often as his were on her), didn’t mean she was interested in the reality of dating him—especially if he were suddenly jobless.

So the fantasies would stay just that for now.

Ugh, sometimes he really wanted to...hug his mother in a bone-crushing but loving way and tell her that for someone so hung up on freedom, her rules were a righteous pain in his ass.

That would probably get him fired too. If you fire me, I’ll have to come live back at home with you , he mentally argued with his imaginary mother, but it didn’t work any better in his imagination than it would have in real life.

Unfortunately Juleka didn’t seem to be having any better luck than he did. Luka had a half-formed plan to call in a favor so he could get Juleka cut early, so that she could run into Rose on her way out and get around Anarka’s rules that way, when he was startled out of his thoughts by someone calling his name.

Luka was moving down the bar to smile at Marinette before he’d even fully processed that she was calling him, but the crease between her brows made him hesitate slightly.

“Juleka didn’t get you a refill?” he asked, but Marinette shook her head.

“I told her I didn’t need one, and then I changed my mind.” She set her glass on the table and nudged it towards him. “Also...well, I want to ask you something.” She shifted uncomfortably, and Luka swallowed as if that would keep the sudden butterflies in his stomach confined there.

“Anything,” he said glibly, with a smile that showed no trace of his nervousness. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s just...do you think…” She glanced up at him shyly, and looked down, cheeks pinking.

Luka leaned his elbows on the counter and lowered his head, cocking it slightly to show he was listening. His fingers laced together and squeezed tight in front of him.

“Does Juleka like Rose?” Marinette asked, glancing nervously back at their table.

Luka blinked. “Ah…”

“Before you answer,” Marinette said quickly, turning back to him. “It’s just that Rose really, really likes Juleka, but Juleka hasn’t...well she does flirt some, but Rose isn’t sure, and...I just don’t want to be encouraging her to pursue something hopeless, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me now if Juleka’s not interested in her. I won’t say anything to Rose, not directly, I just...if it’s not going to happen, I can maybe get her to—”

“It’s not hopeless,” Luka interrupted, trying not to laugh, though whether at his own stupidity or Rose and Juleka’s, he wasn’t sure. “It’s definitely not hopeless. The only thing hopeless is my poor little sister.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed, and then smiled. “Okay then. I’ll tell Rose not to give up?”

“Definitely not,” Luka confirmed, straightening. “But we’re not allowed to ask out customers, so she’s either got to catch Juleka on off hours or make the first move herself. Mom’s a real stickler about it. I’d get in less trouble for being high on the job than hitting on a customer.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I see. I...I guess that makes sense. And Rose hasn’t wanted to be creepy if Juleka was just…” She blushed, surprisingly intensely. “You know, being nice because it’s her job.”

Luka snorted. “Juleka’s not nice.”

Something hit the back of his head and Luka straightened to find Juleka glaring at him. “What are you saying about me, jerk?” she demanded, and Luka rolled his eyes, looking back at Marinette.

“See?” he grinned.

“Shut up and move,” Juleka grunted, shoving his arm until he stepped aside for her to get by.

“Someone’s in a mood,” he called after her, and she turned her back to the bar and flipped him off where only he could see.

“Rude,” he chuckled, and focused back on Marinette. “Look, I can’t speak for her, but as her brother...I don’t think your friend has anything to worry about, yeah?”

Marinette gave him a dazzling smile. “Thanks Luka. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you,” he grinned automatically.

“Send us another round for the table when you get a chance?”

“Sure. I’ll have Jules drop it off.” He winked at her, and her smile got even brighter.

“Perfect.” She gave a happy little bounce before she hopped off the stool and went back to the table. Luka watched her go, and saw her look back at him over her shoulder. He sighed.

“Dumbass,” he said to himself, shaking his head as he turned away to get their drinks ready.

Well, at least Juleka would be happy. If Rose still felt weird about asking her out, he could still try and get Juleka cut early the next weekend. Victor was always asking for more hours, surely he’d do Luka a favor if it meant weekend night tips…

Not that that helped Luka any. He looked back towards Marinette’s table and sighed.

Well, he’d get his own chance eventually—or he’d make one, if he had to.

***

“I’m missing girl’s night,” Marinette huffed, throwing herself behind the wheel. She was missing seeing Luka, she thought petulantly. Her one night a week to see him and she was missing it because Adrien had said something stupid to the person resonsible for their schedules, and she was his partner, so she was guilty by association.

“I said I was sorry,” Adrien sighed, hauling himself up into the passenger side of the ambulance.”

“Say it again,” Marinette grumbled.

Adrien groaned, slumping into his seat. “I promise that I have never in my life been more sorry than I am at this moment, facing this whole shift with you in this mood.”

Marinette glared at him, but the radio called their attention.

Their first few calls were simple enough, but the next one made Marinette suck in her breath sharply.

“What?” Adrien asked, looking at her.

“That’s my girls’ night bar,” Marinette breathed. “26-year-old male…it could be Luka...”

Adrien raised an eyebrow at her. “You want to pass it on?” he asked, not unkindly.

Marinette shook her head. “Nobody else is even close. Let’s go, but you take lead if it’s—if it’s someone I know.”

“It’s probably not,” Adrien reassured her, flipping on the lights and sirens.

Marinette made a noncommittal noise, trying to ignore the cold weight that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Adrien put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed—and then braced himself as Marinette pulled out into traffic.

When they walked into the bar, they had to shove their way through the crowd that had formed in a ring being kept back by a man and a woman wearing shirts that identified them as security.

“Marinette!” Rose cried, waving at her with one hand, and for an instant, Marinette froze.

Luka was sitting in a chair, looking dazed. He kept trying to get up, but Juleka shoved him back down with one hand. Rose was pressing a blood-stained towel to his head.

“Oh no,” Marinette murmured. Adrien squeezed her arm, and then moved past her, his stride purposeful. Marinette pulled herself together and followed, pressing her lips together. This was her job, after all, and she was good at it. It was just another call, and Luka would be fine.

Luka was confused as hell, and his brain didn’t quite feel connected to his body. He was vaguely aware that his head hurt, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of what was going on. He’d woken up on the floor, and then he’d nearly fallen when he tried to stand, and Juleka had shoved him into a chair and fluttered over him, alternately swearing at him and sounding at the edge of tears, and Luka still had no idea what was going on.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, that’s what happened,” snapped Juleka. “We have bouncers for a reason , dumbass.”

“Bouncers?” Luka asked, bewildered. He blinked, trying to focus and clear the fog from his mind. The room didn’t seem to want to be still. It wasn’t spinning, exactly, just tilted to the left slightly. A flash of white crossed his vision and he focused on it for a moment, and then blinked again, still confused and sure he couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing. “Marinette?”

“Hey, Luka,” she smiled, leaning over him.

Luka grinned. “Hi.” Then he frowned. “Thought you were working tonight.”

“I am working,” Marinette said gently, pulling something out of her breast pocket, and Luka vaguely registered that the white he had seen was some kind of uniform shirt. Then he jumped slightly and blinked as she shone a light in his eyes. “He lost consciousness?” she asked, but then Luka was distracted from Marinette as someone else took his arm. He blinked down at a blond man that had knelt next to his chair and was pulling... stuff out of a bag beside him.

“Yes,” Rose confirmed from somewhere behind him.

“Luka, was it?” the blond man asked. “I’m Adrien. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Kentucky sunrise,” Luka muttered. “Told Jules to keep an eye on the guy, he seemed shady.”

“He was shady,” Juleka said, fingers squeezing on his shoulder. “He got nasty and I told him to leave, and he grabbed me, and then this idiot jumped the bar to come get involved and—it’s kind of a blur after that, but he got Luka in the head with a glass or a bottle or something.”

“Where’s the guy now?” Marinette asked.

“Ivan’s got him in the back, waiting for the cops.”

Luka tried to follow the conversation, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate for very long. Adrien started asking him questions, and Luka’s world greyed out a bit as he tried to focus enough to give the right answer. They seemed like really dumb questions, and Adrien kept touching Luka’s head where it hurt. Luka tried to push his hands away, but Marinette caught Luka’s hand and squeezed it tight. Luka looked back at her, focusing on the cool blue of her eyes. She asked him something, but he didn’t quite catch it.

Fuck, he was tired. He just wanted to get somewhere quiet and dark and less peopled and go to sleep.

Marinette’s hand on his cheek brought him back to reality a bit. She was frowning. “Luka, do you feel sick?”

“No,” Luka sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Just tired.”

“Luka,” Marinette said sharply, and he opened his eyes again. “Don’t go to sleep, okay?”

Luka whined, but tried to keep his eyes open. He leaned his head on Juleka’s stomach, and felt her hand stroke gently through his hair. He must really be messed up, he thought with mild amusement, for Jules to be that gentle.

“I think we better take him in for evaluation,” Marinette said to...someone. “He’s definitely got a concussion, and that head lac needs stitches.”

“Agreed,” said Adrien, and Luka began to lose the battle to stay awake. “Come on, stay with us.” Someone squeezed Luka’s arm, and Luka struggled to open his eyes again.

Luka lost track of what was going on after that, moving mechanically when someone asked him to and just trying to stay awake. The only thing he really registered was Marinette leaning over him in the back of the ambulance, stroking his hair back from his face and looking at him with such softness that his breath caught even through his fog. “I’ll drive,” she said. “Take care of him for me.”

Luka was confused until Marinette disappeared from his side and Adrien settled in next to him instead, a faintly amused look on his face. “She must really like you,” Adrien commented under his breath. “She hates to give up the action and drive.”

Luka smiled weakly.

***

The hospital was a confused sequence of waiting rooms and big noisy machines, but as they sat through it all, Luka began to regain some focus and clarity, and by the time they came to tell him that he was fine, he pretty much was, aside from the throbbing in his head where they’d stitched the wound closed and the anesthetic was wearing off.

“We’re going to keep you the rest of the night for observation,” the ER doctor told him, “But unless there’s any sudden changes, you should be good to go tomorrow. Just take it easy for the next few days.”

Luka didn’t bother to argue since the night was mostly gone anyway. All he really cared about was getting to a bed, now that they had cleared him to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, Juleka was sitting next to his bed.

“Hey, dummy,” she said, when he turned his head to look at her.

“Hey,” he sighed. “Can I go home yet?”

Juleka snorted. “Knowing hospitals, it’ll take all day just to fill out the paperwork to get you out of here.

Luka made a face. “Probably true, actually.” He sighed and laid his head back, lolling it over to look at her. “Tell me you at least got a date out of it.”

Juleka blushed, and dropped her gaze, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “She’s a nurse at this hospital, do you know?” Juleka mumbled, fiddling with her fingers. “She stayed with me the whole time they had you doing all those tests. We’re...having dinner tonight when she gets off work.”

“Awesome,” Luka grinned, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

Juleka took a moment to collect herself, and then she lifted her head and grinned at him. “Now it’s your turn.”

“God I wanna marry that girl,” Luka groaned, smiling dreamily. “Gorgeous and smart and funny and a badass. This is it. I’m totally gone for her, Jules.”

Luka didn’t need to see Juleka’s smirk, he could hear it in her voice. “What else is new?” she snorted.

Another memory surfaced and he grimaced. “I’m not sure puking all over her partner in the back of her ambulance made the kind of impression I was hoping for.”

“Don’t worry,” a male voice chuckled. “You’re not the first, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

Luka and Juleka both looked towards the door. Marinette and her golden-haired partner were standing there in clean uniforms. Luka felt a sudden flutter in his stomach. The EMT uniform didn’t do much for her, compared to her usual perfectly tailored clothes, but...she looked strong and confident and in charge, and it was definitely doing things for him. Her hair was tied back and pinned up, but that just made her beautiful eyes more prominent, and the same smile tilted her sweet lips.

He suddenly remembered what he and Jules had been talking about. Oh God, did she hear him? Luka swallowed nervously.

Marinette gave him a little wave, her shoulders hunched slightly. “I hope you don’t mind that we stopped by,” she said shyly. “I— We just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Adrien grinned broadly, clearly amused, and Juleka began to snicker. She leaned over and whispered to Luka, “Your heart monitor’s going crazy, dumbass.” Then she kissed his forehead. “Call me when they’re ready to let you out of here.” She walked away from the bed, and Luka realized too late that she was planning to leave him there with Marinette.

He registered about that time that the monitor behind him was indeed beeping frantically and felt himself flush. He fiddled with the clip on his finger, but if he took it off the nurses would come charging in, so he took some deep breaths, trying to get himself under control as Juleka stopped to exchange a quiet word and a hug with Marinette, with a quick handshake for Adrien.

Adrien and Marinette approached the bed and Luka reached up self-consciously to smooth his hair before remembering the bandage on his head. He extended his hand towards Adrien instead.

“Hey, man, I really am sorry for throwing up all over you,” Luka told Adrien. “I swear, I didn’t know it was coming.”

Adrien smiled ruefully as he shook Luka’s hand. “I’m used to it. Sometimes I think I have a target on my chest.”

“Serves you right for always wearing such expensive shoes,” Marinette huffed.

“They’re comfy!” Adrien protested.

Luka chuckled and looked at Marinette, taking in the uniform and trying to recalibrate his mental image of her to include this new information. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed like it should have been; she’d always had that something about her that said she could do anything, and she was certainly fit enough to be hauling people around, and the impulse to help people fit in with her sweet nature.

He really hadn’t thought he could fall any harder, but looking at her now—staring at her, he realized abruptly—he accepted that this hole was a lot deeper than he’d realized.

Marinette leaned over the side of his bed and reached toward his hair. “May I?” she asked, and at Luka’s nod, she parted his hair to peek under his bandage at the stitches. She was close enough that Luka could smell the faintest hint of sweet vanilla even past all the medical smells. The monitor began to beep warningly again and Luka thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Her fingers skimmed his cheek as she lowered her hands. “It looks good. You probably won’t even notice it with your hair covering it.”

“Thanks,” Luka said stupidly, not really sure how one was supposed to react to a compliment on how well one’s head was sewn back together.

“How do you feel?” she asked, straightening a little.

“Not too bad,” Luka shrugged. “Still have a headache, but it’s much better.”

Marinette frowned. “What are they giving you for pain?” She looked at the board in his room without waiting for him to answer, and gave a slight sigh. “Well, that should fade soon, hopefully. As long as your imaging came back normal—” Luka nodded. “—it should just be a question of paperwork.” She laid her hand over his and squeezed. “You should be back behind the bar in no time. No more fights though, okay? You scared me, when we got the call for your address.”

“Sorry.” Luka gave her a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I wasn’t wishing to see you, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Marinette giggled, her eyes darting away and her teeth catching her lip for a moment before she looked back at him, a bright smile slowly growing across her face. For a moment they just stared at each other. Adrien raised his eyebrows and put his hands in his pockets, wandering back across the room.

Luka barely noticed. Marinette was looking at him and he had never seen her eyes so soft before. Except—except that one moment when she’d been leaning over him on the gurney, and she’d promised him he was going to be okay, and then she’d looked up at Adrien and said take care of him for me…

He was so transfixed by her eyes that he didn’t react to her leaning over the bed until he felt her hand on his chest and her breath on his face, and then he only had time to gasp and close his eyes as her lips found and caressed his in a soft and tender kiss. He leaned into it as much as he dared, and managed to move his mouth to kiss her back, electric thrills moving through him.

He followed her when she pulled back, and opened his eyes to stare at her in wonder as her lips left his.

“I’m dying,” he said flatly. “I’m dying and no one wants to tell me, is that it?”

Marinette giggled. “No more than everyone else.” Then she actually blushed and looked down. “I’ve maybe been thinking about doing that for a while now.” She glanced up through her lashes and a truly wicked smile slowly spread. “And trust me, when you actually are going to die, you’ll know it.”

Luka’s attempt at a reply became a strangled noise at the back of his throat.

There was a quiet cough from the other side of the room, where Adrien was turning red attempting to hold in his laughter. “I’m getting the feeling you didn’t actually need a wingman here,” he said.

“Take a walk, Adrien,” Marinette said in a warning tone, and leaned in to kiss Luka again. Luka moved to meet her, lips parting eagerly as he buried the hand not covered in wires in her hair, only vaguely aware of Adrien’s gusty sigh and the sound of the door opening and closing, or the rapidly accelerating beep of his heart rate monitor again.

Somewhere in the haze Luka realized he wasn’t on shift, and anyway Marinette had kissed him first, and Anarka’s rules didn’t matter anymore.

“Hey,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Want to—mm—get coffee sometime? After they let me out of here.”

“I’d love to,” Marinette sighed, and kissed him again. She giggled. “You should have told me about that stupid rule sooner. All this time, I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.” She pulled back and blinked for a moment, and bit her lip. “Um. I should probably tell you that I told my boss you’re my boyfriend.” She shrugged. “If I start dating you after you’ve been my patient, it’s weird, but if we were dating before that, then it’s just unfortunate coincidence, so…”

“I’m cool with that,” Luka said quickly. “Very cool.” They grinned like fools at each other for a moment, and then moved to kiss again.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a nurse poked her head in. “Mr. Couffaine? We’ve been getting an alarm from your monitor—” She paused, taking in Marinette’s wrecked hair and two blushing faces. “Oh.”

Marinette giggled, hiding her face in his shoulder, and Luka groaned. “How much do I need to bribe you to turn that damn thing off for the next f—” he glanced at Marinette. “Ten minutes?”

The nurse rolled her eyes, but winked at them. “Just remember you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” she admonished, crossing the room and unplugging the monitor from the wall. “If anyone asks, you’re in the bathroom.”

“Yes ma’am,” Luka grinned as the nurse shut the door behind her, pulling Marinette back in.

#quickspins #i'll never not know you #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #birthday big bang

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

Text

Stitches

A/N: Yep, I’ve ventured off the Marvel path and penned a few tales for The Witcher!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut

The scent of rich beef roast and fresh baked bread filled the small room. Two local merchants sat at a corner table near the stone oven, arguing over the merits of silk from the south. Rulla, the inn's owner, busied herself shucking peas. The sun had not yet fallen and the town was quiet.

You sat alone, adorning the collar of woman's dress with fine silk embroidery. Falling into the rhythmic and well practiced movements, time passed without your notice. Until the door slammed open.

A wall of a man ate all the space in the doorway. His long white hair hung over his face. One arm wrapped around his middle, pressing a palm into his ribs. A leather bag hung from his other hand. "A room." His deep baritone voice carried across the room without needing much volume. "Preferably with a bath."

Rulla stood, wiping her hands on her apron. "If you have coin, I have a room with a bath."

He just grunted.

You took note of the dark stain beneath his hand. The older woman must have noticed at the same time you did. Her voice softened, and she rushed forward. "My boy, get into the first room on the right. I'll start the hot water." She turned to you. "You're needle may be of use, child."

He scowled at you. Still, you pulled the kit from your bag and walked toward him. "Come on." You sighed. "Let's take a look."

He only followed you as far as the door. You turned back. "That looks to be bleeding freely. I can stitch it up so even exertion will not open it back up. Or do Witchers heal even more miraculously than the tales say? You are a Witcher, correct?"

His chin dipped in a nod. "Geralt."

"Do you want my help or not?"

He sighed through his nose before dropping the bag inside the door. You lit the lamp beside the bed. You could smell horse and sweat wafting off him. He loomed over you as he came near. When you turned away from your sewing kit, he was pulling the soiled shirt over his head.

The grime and blood tangled in hair covering his chest could not hide the definition of the muscle beneath. Nor could it hide the map of old scars upon his flesh. A gash the length of your middle finger opened so wide you could see muscle and bone. It was not a clean cut, as if from a blade. It was torn, ugly, more like a bite or rip.

Rulla came in through the open door carrying two large buckets of steaming water. She dumped them in the tub. You pulled a few cloths from the cupboard and dipped one in the hot water. “I’ll be right back with the rest of the water,” Rulla commented. She glanced at the broad back of the man. “Be quick about it.”

You moved back to the Witcher’s side. Blood oozed between his fingers and trailed down his torso to gather at his belt. “Would you prefer to lie down?”

“Here is good. The light is better for you.” He stood near the table in the lamplight.

You sat on the edge of the bed and prepared your needle before wiping away the blood and cleaning the wound. “Do you worry about fever?”

“No.”

He didn’t flinch as you pinched the wound together pierced his flesh with the curved needle. Geralt held perfectly still, breath slow and even, as you worked. Your stitches were fine and strong. If he healed as fast as legend said, this scar would be far less noticeable than his others.

Rulla finished filling the bath and closed the door as she left.

His one arm hung loose as his side, but he held the other out away from the wound. It created tension.

“Rest your hand on my shoulder.” You spoke, but didn’t look up. “I’ll have enough room to work and your muscles will relax.”

His hand was large, warm. You could feel his intense golden eyes on you. It took effort to focus on cleanly stitching his wound. Part of you wondered if he could tell your heart raced. It should be from fear. In truth, something about his presence made you want to rub against him like a cat.

The pad of his thumb began to ghost over your skin near your collar bone. It may have been an absent-minded action. It may have been a deliberate petting. Regardless, you desperately want to feel that touch more.

You knew it was insane, not knowing him at all. Still, nearly two years had gone by since your husband’s death and the want for the touch of man grew worse every day. And here stood this large, handsome, man stroking your neck. The temptation was so great. This man would not want more than you were willing to give. Nor would this man leave you with a child.

Focus.

After a time you sat back and examined your work, fingers brushing over his warm skin. He looked down at himself. “You do good work.”

“Thank you.” Your hands paused on his abdomen, looking up at him from your seated position. “I should, um, should leave you to your bath.”

“I could use your steady hands.” His deep voice remained serious, but a playful glint filled his golden eyes.

“Oh?” You smiled. “You have other parts in need of my attention?”

“More than you know.” A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Your heartbeat quickened. As terrifying as he appeared when he entered the inn, he now exuded a raw masculine sexuality that had your mouth dry and core wet. “Then you best use that water before it cools.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed. He pulled at the laces of his breeches.

“Would you like help with your boots?” You smiled. “I wouldn’t want you to strain anything.”

Just the corner of his mouth twitched up before he sat on the edge of the bed and held out his right foot. He observed your every move as you removed his boots and striped him to bare feet. You knew his view would be down the front of your bodice.

He stood as you finished, taking your hand and pulling you up with him. “What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

Geralt’s fingertip drifted along your jaw to under your chin. “This is not something you normally do, is it?”

“I use my needle for wounds all the time.” You smiled, knowing that was not his meaning.

“Little dove,” He growled in a warning tone. His voice flowed over you like warm honey. “Answer me.”

“No.” You chewed your lower lip, but rested your hands on the bare skin of his waist above his belt. “But it does not make the offer insincere.”

“You’re not afraid of me?” He frowned.

“Should I be?”

“This is not the way for you to explore the ways of men and women.” He sighed, dropping his hand and standing straight.

You laughed. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” He glared, but you continued. “I’m not as young as I look. It’s been some time since a raider killed my husband. He and I... we had a very, ah, amorous and energetic relationship. It’s been too long, and I miss it.” You stared up into his eyes. “I would image you are an amorous and energetic sort.”

His head tilted and eyebrows rose. “True enough.”

You pulled at the loose laces of his breeches, grinning. “Bath, then.”

He stepped out of the remainder of his clothing. You could not help the delighted smile on your face at his amazing physique and already half hard cock. Tall, broad, and just huge, he showed no reserve or shame as he walked naked across the room and sunk into the warm water.

“Are you going to join me?”

“I’m clean,” You grinned. “If I get in there with you, I’ll get all mucked up.” His mouth opened to protest, but you continued. “Wash up. I’ll grab another bucket of hot water and help you rinse off.”

“Hmm.” He reached for the folded rag on the table and the soap bar. You told him to use the white bottle instead. He uncorked it an sniffed. Rosemary and mint. Pouring some onto the cloth, he began to scrub.

You returned carrying two heavy buckets of hot water. Geralt sat in the tub, skin scrubbed clean and hair wet. A light film from your favorite wash clung to him and the room smelled infinitely better. Setting the buckets down beside the tub, you told him to drain the water.

Taking up a large tankard, you poured clean water over his hair, his shoulders, trailing the water with your hands. His eyes drifted closed. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest. You smiled.

You rinsed his hair, broad shoulders, strong arms and chest. The action gave you the opportunity run your hands over him with thorough attention.

“Stand up, please.”

Geralt stood. You poured hot water over his lower back, watching it run along his strong ass and down the back of his thighs. You poured more, flowing the water with your hand. The muscles under your palm twitch and you fingertip dug in with a bit more pressure.

Dipping the tankard into the bucket once again, you looked up into his captivating golden eyes as your hand hovered over the thick trail of hair below his belly button. The corner of his mouth quirked up. You poured the water, watching it rinse clean the skin, and hair, and his magnificent cock. You hand traced along the length of him, far too gentle for his liking.

“You tease me, woman.” His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you forward to take possession of your mouth in a hungry kiss. Stepping out of the tub, he pulled you against his naked body, lifting practically off your toes. His teeth nipped your bottom lip. “You are wearing too much.”

His nimble fingers made short work of your laces, and eagerly pushed your gown over your shoulders where it gathered loosely at your hips. A feral growl rumbled from his chest as his hand cupped your breast. Geralt’s other hand pushed your dress passed your hips and took a hard grip on your ass. A violent shutter ran through your body as his teeth grazed your neck.

“Oh, but you are a responsive little dove.” He smiled before kissing you hard once again.

You gave a small squeak when he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. Geralt looked you over, hungry, before coming closer. He captured your left foot and stripped it of shoe and stocking. Doing the same with the right, he placed a knee on the bed and painted a wet trail up your leg, nipping with his teeth along the way.

Your other leg fell open for him. His fingers slipped along your sex, finding you soaking wet and slick. Deftly rubbing his thumb over your clit before two fingers slipped in deep to strum against the perfect spot, you gripped the sheets and bit back a cry. It felt like heaven.

Geralt chuckled, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your lower belly. “So responsive.” His tongue circled your clit and you whined. “And so sweet.” His voice rumbled against your sensitive flesh before him mouth attacked your cunt with vigor.

“Oh, fuck.” You shook, already feeling the tension building, feeling the heat gather. “Gods, yes!” Your thighs began to quiver and your hips bucked hard against Geralt’s face. He forced you down with his spare hand, his strength remarkable. The restriction pushed you further towards the edge. You gripped him by the hair. He growled, increasing the sensation. You panted. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

His fingers fucked you hard, his mouth unrelenting. Your body exploded, heat bursting forth, shaking, coming hard. He didn’t stop, growling fiercely against your clit. The rumble shaking you to the core. You writhed, uncontrollably rolling through another orgasm.

Geralt poised on all fours above you when your senses returned. A satisfied smirk turn up the corner of his sex soaked mouth. “That was fun.”

You giggled.

He stared at you a moment, studying your face. You reached up and pulled him down, kissing him long and deep. Still, he held himself above you. You needed his weight, need to be pressed into the mattress. Your fingers dug into his back, into his ass, pulling him closer. While your tongue battled his, your strong fingers wrapped around his cock.

Geralt bucked his cock into your hand, “Fuck.” His mouth left wet kissed across your neck. His weight shifted and his large hand massaged your breast, pulling at your nipple. His teeth grazed the taut bud and sucked hard. Your back arched off the bed.

“Oh gods, fuck me.” You plead, fingers digging into the broad muscles of his shoulders, pulling him close. “Want to feel the weight of you.” Your teeth nipped his ear. “Need you to fuck me hard.” Your leg lifted over his hip. “I want to feel you days after you’ve gone.”

Geralt growled. His fingers dug into the meat of your ass, his cock rubbing along your slick sex. His forehead pressed against yours, nose to nose, he breathed deep. “Don’t let me hurt you.” He practically whispered. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”

You closed your eyes and nodded, tipping your hips. “Please.”

He pressed in. The delicious stretch, the intoxicating pressure, pushed a moan from your chest. Your hips rocked against his, each stroke taking him deeper. You clung to his arms and shoulders. You tasted the skin of neck, nipping at his jaw. “Yes, more.”

Geralt rested his weight on his elbow and curled your leg up toward your chest. His cock pounded into you, rough and at a pace to steal your breath. You lost yourself to the feel, to taste and smell, of him. The rumble of his moans went straight to your core.

Heat gathered low. Everything lit up. Your legs quivered. His weight pressed you into the mattress. Your teeth bite into his shoulder. So close.

“Fuck.” He wrapped his arm under your back to hold your shoulder. Hot breath bathed your neck. His hips snapped hard and fast.

You held on, clawing at his flesh. Breath coming in pants and whines. Fire spread. Everything exploded. You came apart. “Yes!”

Geralt held you down, grinding into you, fucking you through your orgasm. His breath growled out, fingers dug into you, his hips snapped. You bit at his neck, pulled at his hair. He came with low roar.

He shifted off of you, but pulled you along to drape over the top of him. Sighing, with a deep ‘hmmm’, his fingers traced lazy circles on your back. After a time, your breath returned to normal.

You felt so good. He was warm and solid. You rubbed your face in thick hair covering his chest, first one side and then the other, breathing deep.

“What are doing?” The corner of his lip tipped up.

“You have a great chest. I love the feel.”

“No questions about the scars, but you rub in my chest hair like a cat.” He chuckled.

“Yes.” You sighed lazily. “You’re a Witcher, and I will happily listen to your tales if you wish to tell them. But that can be done in front of the hearth over a beer and a meal. This,” you wriggled even lower so his re-awakening cock became nestled between your breast and you rubbed your nose in the hair below his navel, “I am taking full advantage of right now.”

Geralt’s head dropped back, his hips rocked slowly against you. “You do that.” Your began to trail wet kisses down his belly, content, tired, but not about to miss a moment with this man in your bed. His large hand caressed your shoulder. “But don’t worry, little dove, there’s no need for me to move on for a few days. We can take our time should you wish.”

You eyes rose to meet his golden gaze. “I most definitely wish.”

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

Temptation (pt. 3)

RATING: M/smut (cw: prior sexual harrassment mentioned)

WORD COUNT: 14.6k jesUs

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

He paid the price in Nora not being his. He couldn’t say anything when he saw guys looking at her from across the room, he couldn’t hold her hand when they walked down the sidewalk on campus, he couldn’t touch her whenever he wanted in public. There was a barrier they maintained during daylight hours—no contact in public. At night when everyone else was drunk they broke that rule and could barely keep their hands off each other, lasting on the dance floor of the parties for a mere thirty minutes before going up to Harry’s. But he couldn’t show her off the world, couldn’t sing her praises, couldn’t call her his. At least, not in the way that mattered. He called her his during sex, but that wasn’t the same, he couldn’t distinguish the fervor of sex from the reality of his feelings. And it pained him more than he had expected.

Because he was Nora’s.

She just wasn’t his.

Nora can’t figure out what she wants and Harry gets hurt in the process. (part three of this / fratboy!harry)

PART ONE | PART TWO

Harry woke to the sound of his door opening and an empty bed. Nora was standing at the end of his bed tugging on her pants, hair a beautiful mess.

“Oi, what’re you doing?”

Nora looked up and saw that Harry was awake, sitting up on his elbows and staring at her in confusion. She didn’t want to run out, but she had to. She had a fucking UTI and she was going to have to pee every five seconds, she needed cranberry juice, and she wanted to deal with all of those things not at a fraternity house. “I gotta run,” she said simply.

“Where?” Harry looked over to his alarm clock. “It’s eight AM on a Sunday. Where’re you going?”

“The store,” she replied. “Gotta pick up some things.” She buttoned her jeans and reached for her shirt, long forgotten on the ground.

Harry sat up fully, confused. Who would go to the store at eight in the morning on a Sunday when they could stay in bed? Especially with him? He didn’t want her to leave. “And get what?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so nosy.” Nora pulled her shirt over her head, exasperated. “I’ve got to get some cranberry juice, okay? And then I have to go home and spend all day by my toilet.”

“What? Why?”

This boy was clueless. But then again, he was also a boy, so what was she to expect. “I’ve got a fucking UTI, H.”

Realization dawned on his face immediately. “Oh.” And then suddenly, he was out of bed, grabbing a fresh pair of boxers, a shirt, and a pair of jeans from his drawers. Nora watched him and tried not to ogle at his muscles as he lifted hisi arms to get his shirt on, or the way his hair flopped into his face ever so slightly when he pulled on his jeans.

“What are you doing?”

Harry stood up and grabbed his keys from his dresser. “Going to the store for you. Now get back in bed, put on some of my clothes that are comfortable, and tell me what exactly you need.”

“What—Harry—“

He pulled her into his body and pressed the most soft and delicate kiss to her cheek. “I’ve got an older sister. Know how much these things suck and I seriously doubt you want to move much farther than to and from the toilet. So get back into my bed and let me take care of you, okay?”

Looking back, that was the moment that Nora fell for him. Right there, Harry holding her close and telling her to let him take care of her. “Okay,” she said, because how was she going to deny him? Plus, his bed was more comfortable than hers, and he was right, the idea of getting in an Uber and going to the store and then home sounded horrific because she already had to pee again.

“Now, what do you need?”

“Pure cranberry juice,” she told him. “No sugars, no sweetener, no mixed with anything else—pure, unfiltered, cranberry juice, and two bottles of sparkling water.”

Harry nodded, memorizing her words. “That it?”

Nora bit the inside of her cheek. “Some Monostadt if you’re feeling courageous.”

“What’s that?”

“Medicine of sorts. Probably will be in with the tampons and stuff.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened—he couldn’t help it—but he just nodded. “Text me if you think of anything else, okay? I’ll be back in a jiffy. And ignore anyone if they tell you to hurry up in the bathroom.” He kisses her forehead with such kindness that Nora possibly melts right there on the floor, and then he’s out the door.

Harry finds Nora curled up in his bed in his Fleetwood Mac shirt, hair pulled up in a messy bun, and reading his copy of Americanah that he was reading for a Literature class. Looking back, this was the moment Harry fell for her. His heart stops a bit at her in his clothes, in his bed, waiting for him, but he pushes the thought from his brain.

“Got a few different kinds,” he says, rousing her attention from the book. “Wanted to make sure it was right.”

Nora sits up and watches him pull three cartons of cranberry juice out of the bag, two bottles of sparkling water, a pack of Monostadt, two bars of chocolate, and some chips. She hadn’t asked for the snacks, but he thought she would want them and that warmed her heart, and the fact that he braved the tampon aisle for her gave her immediately more respect for him. She surveyed the options and saw he had gotten two that would work. “Those two are good,” she said.

“Perfect,” he said. He grabbed a cup from his desk and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Supposed to mix the cranberry juice and sparkling, I assume?” She nodded. “And the juice is pretty strong?” She nodded again. “Ok. Let me mix something and you tell me if it needs more of one or the other.”

“Ok, Mr. Bartender,” she said and Harry chuckled. He poured the two together, focusing on making sure it wouldn’t be too strong for her to sip on. He handed her the cup and she took a sip—perfect. “S’good,” she said. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her, proud of his ability to make the perfect thing for her. “Course. Now shove over so I can get in with you.”

Nora blushed, scooted over, and watched him get undressed. He stripped down to just his boxers, and then crawled into bed next to her. “Thank you for doing this,” she said softly, carefully edging closer to him so her head was on his shoulder. “It’s a bit awkward, you know. We just...” Had sex, she almost said.

“Hey,” he said softly. He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear, fingertips trailing down her cheek. “I wanted to do it. Don’t care if it’s awkward.” He pressed another chaste kiss to her forehead, and then grabbed a remote from his bedside table. “Now, want to watch a David Attenborough nature documentary with me?”

“I’ve been meaning to watch Our Planet,” she said, settling in next to him.

Harry decided that she couldn’t get more perfect.

They laid in bed for most of the day watching nature documentaries and ended up cuddling without even thinking about it. Harry discovered that he loves Nora’s head on his shoulder, their legs tangled at the end of the bed, a thin blanket tugged over them to keep them warm in the late January cold that the heat can’t keep out. Sometimes her fingers found his skin and drew outlines over his tattoos, which never ceased to pull a sharp inhale from him and a plea that she didn’t pull away. But she always did. Nora was better at keeping her boundaries up—she didn’t hold his hand, she didn’t snuggle into him too much—there was almost a reticence to the way she relaxed into him. She wouldn’t stop fidgeting and even when she relaxed, he knew she wasn’t letting her full bodyweight lean into him.

She was up and down constantly to go pee and he kept pouring her more glasses of cranberry juice and sparkling water, but her UTI didn’t go away. He asked about it hesitantly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, and she just blushed before shaking her head. After another trip to the toilet, she reached for the Monostadt from where it’s been sitting on his dresser.

“You okay, Cherry?” The nickname popped out and he immediately remembered saying it the night before, balls deep inside of her and the image made him harden immediately. He tried to disguise it with the blanket, but Nora saw it without him knowing. The image made her smile inside, the reality of what she did to Harry making her quite happy.

“S’not getting better,” she said. “Gonna take this and hope it helps.”

“Need anything?” He asked and she shook her head before heading back to the toilet. He leaned back against the pillows and sighed, keeping the documentary paused so she didn’t miss anything in her absence. His phone buzzed with a text and he grabbed it, swiping it open. It was Nash.

Who’s the girl who is going in and out of the bathroom and your room?

Nash lived upstairs, but he must’ve been cleaning the house and noticed Nora. Her name’s Nora. She’s not feeling too great.

Aren’t you a gentlemen

Harry chuckled before placing the phone back on the nightstand, the sound of Nora re-entering the bedroom making him want to forget everything else. She was on the phone, he realized when she stepped inside, but she was speaking in another language.

“Je vais bien, maman,” she said. It was French, he realized. He didn’t know she spoke French and the sound of it falling from her lips turned him on more than he wanted to admit. “Mon ami prend soin de moi.” She leaned against the door as she spoke to her mother, Harry understanding that much. “Non, un garçon. Non, on ne sort pas ensemble. Maman, arrête.” She sighed, her eyes catching with Harry’s, and she rolled her eyes. Sorry, she mouthed and Harry shook his head, as if to say No matter. “Maman, je dois y aller, d'accord? Je t'appellerai plus tard. Je t’aime. Salut.”

“You speak French?” He asked, amazed.

She nodded. “My mom’s French.”

“That’s so cool that you know French and German.”

Nora tried ignore the way the fact that he remembered that she spoke German made her heart warm. Without a word she laid down next to him, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. “You can start it,” she said, and Harry followed her directions.

They laid in his bed until almost five o’clock, at which point Harry suggested they order food. They decided on sushi and they picked out a bunch of rolls and dumplings to try, and Harry grabbed the food when it arrives, making a spread on his bed for them. He didn’t tell her that he usually doesn’t let people eat on his bed because he made an exception for her, not being able to bear the idea of making her go downstairs and eat when she looked so cuddled up and warm in his blanket. They finished another documentary and it was seven o’clock when Nora declared it was time for her to go home. She was feeling better, she reassured a worried Harry, and Maddy was at home to take care of her. He insisted on driving her and Nora wore his Fleetwood Mac shirt with her jeans out of the frat house, since Harry wouldn’t let her give it back to him. He made sure she didn’t have to talk to any of his brothers downstairs, coming to grab her when he knew the coast was clear, and she appreciated it—she didn’t want to get whistled at or questioned, just to go home.

His car was a Prius, which Nora smiled at. He was so unlike any other fraternity brother she had ever met and he intrigued her more than she wanted to admit. When he turned on the car, Elton John blasted from the speakers and when Harry went to turn it down, Nora grabbed his hand and shook her head, telling him to keep it. He drove her home and they sang Elton John at the top of their lungs, both grinning from ear to ear, catching each other’s eyes sometimes. Harry loved seeing her in his car, loved having her around all day. When he dropped her off, she hopped out of his car without a kiss and he tried to ignore how it made his heart sink. He hated watching her walk away from him and inside her building.

It’s just sex, he thought to himself. It was what he had told himself time and time again and what he kept having to remind himself of.

The thing was, though, he was starting to have doubts.

In class, Harry checked in with Nora about how she was feeling and when she told him she was all better he smiiles warmly at her. They went and studied together after class, but Nora picked up her books around three and told him she was heading out, barely a look over her shoulder at him as she walked out.

She was creating distance. She needed it—after she’d spent all day with him she needed to remember that it was just sex, nothing more. When he dropped her off, she had gone into her apartment breathless purely from being around him and that whole night all she could think about was him. She needed space to figure out what was going on, to get her feelings in check. Nora had a life that she needed to focus on, grades to keep up, friends to see, an internship to search for. She filled her nights with homework and the job search instead of texting Harry, her mother reminding her that she needed to turn in applications soon if she wanted her dream internship position in London with the archival research department at the Museum of London. (She’d gone the past summer with her parents and fallen in love with the history of the city and decided she had to work there.) It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be around Harry, it was that she couldn’t. Everytime she was around him she felt this itch to fucking touch him and she couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn’t handle how much she wanted to kiss him and curl her fingers in his hair and feel him between her legs. Nora needed air, she needed to re-calibrate, she needed to remember that she didn’t want to date and especially not a fraternity boy.

Harry’s texts went unanswered for the most part, other than the occasional quick response to something related to their classwork. He tried not to wonder if he’d done something wrong, but it was hard when he went from caring for her and her UTI to feeling iced out. Nora acted normal in class, small talk and shared laughter when their professor did something funny. But it wasn’t the same as usual and Harry was confused. When he asked Nash about it, he looked at Harry and said, “you’re just hooking up, right?” That made Harry self-concious—was he having feelings for her? And if so, did she not feel the same pull that he did between them? Being around Nora this week made him realize how much he just enjoyed her company, whether they were talking or studying or just sitting next to each other in class. He simply missed her, despite how much he tried to convince himself he didn’t.

He invited her to a party that weekend, hoping the weekend would mean he would be able to see her, but she responded a few hours later with a simple Sorry, I can’t :(. He spent the party sulking in the corner, sipping on whiskey and watching people have fun before going upstairs and calling it a night earlier than normal. Nash noticed and when he asked, Harry just replied, “She’s not here.”

The next week was just like before. They chatted in class, but beyond that it was radio silence. She responded to his texts even less and Harry was a confused mess. He threw himself into his school work, getting ahead on readings that he didn’t need to do for two weeks. All he wanted was an explanation, but he was too scared to even ask why she was doing it. Did she wants to stop hooking up? Had she been freaked out by his kindness? Maybe it was the nature documentaries. Did she want him to be more like Nash? More aloof? Did she want him not to care? Because he didn’t know if he could.

That weekend DSig had another party, but this time Harry told Niall, who was seeing Nora’s friend Maddy, he discovered, to invite them. Niall did as Harry had asked, but he didn’t know if they would come. And when Friday rolled around, Harry was stood in the kitchen, alone, drinking whiskey. Again.

Maddy and her friends had arrived, but Nora wasn’t with them. When Harry had asked her about Nora, Maddy had shook her head and said that Nora “wasn’t feeling it”.

“Harry!” It was Nash and he was properly drunk. “My man! Why aren’t you drunk, bro?”

Harry raised at his cup. “I’m drinking still.”

Nash looked in the cup and grimaced. “We’re doing shots,” he declared, looking around the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of tequila, two limes, and handed a shot glass to Harry. The shots were doubles and Harry wasn’t looking forward to it, but he did it anyways, because if Nora wasn’t going to be there then he at least wanted to have fun. He was entitled to have his fun—after all, he was Harry Styles, as Nash kept reminding him. He was hot and people were into him right and left, guys and girls alike.

So Harry decided to have fun. He did four shots, his mind whirring by the end, and followed Nash to the sweaty dance floor. The music overtook him and he let go, blissfully and fully. He danced with girls who he could tell were interested, but everytime he looked at them all he could think about was how they weren’t Nora. Sure, they were pretty, but they didn’t look at him like she did. He danced with them anyways, but when they leaned in to kiss him he stepped away and found his friends again, not wanting someone else to touch his lips because Nora had touched them last.

It was after midnight when he stopped dancing. He was hot, trashed, and wanted Nora. He just wanted her, not some other girl to fill the Nora-shaped hole in his night. It wasn’t until this moment that Harry, drunk off his ass, realized just how deep he was. Something was different with her and he didn’t know why or what it was, but he needed it more than he needed to be at this party. So he pulled out his phone and called himself an Uber, not even telling Nora he was coming because he didn’t want her to turn him away.

The knock on the door had Nora looking at her clock and sighing. It was almost one and she was exhausted—she was winding down for bed and watching a documentary on deforestation, finishing a glass of wine, skin fresh from a face mask. Maddy was out with Taylor and Lauren, but Nora had stayed in. She wasn’t sure why, but when they’d asked her to come to the party with them, she had said no. The idea of seeing Harry made her nervous—the last time she’d been at his party they had hooked up, and she didn’t know if she was in a place where she could do that and not have questions after. So she avoided the situation entirely.

But when she opened the door to find Harry standing in front of her, she was just as lost. “H?”

Harry smiled at the nickname, it settling the part of him that was nervous to see her. “Cherry. Hi.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Seeing you.”

“I noticed,” she replied. “Why?”

“Wanted to see you.”

She took another look at him and realized he was drunk. Quite drunk, in fact. “How’d you get here?”

“Uber.”

That was a relief at least—he hadn’t drive himself. “Come on inside. You’ll freeze out there.” He’d not brought a jacket and Nora could see the raised goosebumps on his exmposed arms, the tattoos littering his body open for the world to see.

He kicked his shoes off in the entryway and watched as Nora poured him a glass of water. She rummaged through the cabinets before pulling out an Advil, which she handed to him. He took both, murmuring a thanks under his breath. She leans back against the counter and watched him, his presence in her apartment all consuming and more comforting than she had expected. He smelled of sweat and alcohol, but underneath it she could taste his cologne, the memories of it rushing back to her like a freight train. Him, close to her as he fucked her deep and fast, begging for her to finish. She pressed her legs together at the memory.

“Why are you here?” She asked him again, breaking the silence stretching between them.

Harry leaned on the kitchen island, his elbows digging into the granite countertops. “You didn’t come tonight.”

“Didn’t feel like going out,” she explained. She hadn’t expected him to be so disappointed, but she could read it on his face.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and not spending time with me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit,” he replied, his voice hard in the quiet of the room. She wasn’t answering him and he was about done with it. She was standing there, staring him down, and completely ignoring the meaning behind his questions. He wanted answers, goddamn it—he wanted to understand her. “We’re all busy. It’s more than that and I don’t get it. Did I miss something? Did I do something?”

The way his voice trailed off at the end, emotion radiating through his words, had Nora’s heart aching. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—she had been selfish, needing the time away from him and ignoring how it would affect him, or that it would affect him at all. “I needed space,” she said, trying to find the words.

Harry’s eyes met hers and the way they bore into her soul made her stop fidgeting for once and concentrate on him. “But why, Nora?”

The way he said her name made her realize she had to be honest with him. “We’re just hooking up,” she said, the words sandpaper on her tongue. “And I needed space to make sure it stayed that way. I’m not in the position for anything more and I didn’t want you to be confused.”

Harry didn’t reply. He just looked at her. Maybe it was the alcohol or the hour, but Nora thought she saw disappoint and defeat in his eyes. And if she did, she had nothing to offer him. She didn’t have the psace in her life for someone else right now, only herself. People were complicated, especially relationships, and Nora didn’t want that. She wanted simplicity and hooking up with Harry would only stay simple if she kept it that way.

“I know we’re just hooking up,” he reponded finally. The lie was bitter on Harry’s tongue, because she did need to. The minute her words met Harry’s ears he knew that he was craving more. He had fallen with her, one way or another, somewhere in the week he had known her. His crush was full-fledged and suffocating, because when he looked at her he could barely look away. In her oversized sweatshirt and tiny shorts, her hair loose and messy, face clean of makeup and eyes weary with exhaustion. So when he looked away from her, it took every bone in his body, but he knew if he continued to look at her she would know he was lying. And he wasn’t ready to lose her yet. “You didn’t need to avoid me to make that clear, you know.”

His answer brought comfort to her—he felt the same way, that it was just sex. He didn’t need more, he wouldn’t complicate her life. He would let her be her and not ask for more. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “Shouldn’t have done it.”

He watched as she rounded the corner of the kitchen island and came up to him, her body mere inches away from him. Harry could smell her coconut shampoo and see the wrinkles between her brows from when she frowned. The desire to touch her was almost too much for him. “I survived.”

Nora wanted to touch him with every bone in her body. She wanted to feel his skin under fingers and watch him inhale as she scratched down his back. Since they were on the same page, she realized she had no reason to stop herself anymore.

Watching closely, he exhaled sharply as she touched him for the first time. It was soft, reticent, a reminder and a memory of before. A simple brush of her forefinger down the length of his bicep that had his heart beating faster in his chest. “Cherry,” he said, his voice gravely with desire.

When their eyes met, a simple understanding passed between them in seconds. And then Harry was pulling her up, her legs were around his waist, and he was walking her into her room, their lips melded together as if no time had passed. They hadn’t forgotten how to kiss one another, it was like muscle memory, the need for one another feeding through their skin as they kissed, a shared desire for more and more.

Nora dropped to her bed and she wasted no time with shedding her clothing, her shirt and pants coming off before Harry could even tug off his shirt. He wasn’t drunk anymore—their conversation had sobered him—but when he looked at her skin, he thought he might be intoxicated again because he couldn’t get enough. Sheets curled in her fingers as he pressed his lips to her body, murmurs of how beautiful she was and how much he wanted her flowing from him freely. Gasping, she reached for his chin and pulled him up to her, needing him to kiss her properly again. Which he did. He ground into her, desperate for her to feel him, and Nora moaned at the feeling. How had she managed to go two weeks without him between her thighs?

“Need you,” she said, breathless.

He looked up from where he was attached to her nipple. “Where do you want me, princess?”

“You know where.”

Once he might’ve made her spell it out, but he was too spellbound. He lowered himself flat on his stomach and tugged her panties aside without another word, pressing his tongue to her hot skin.

Things passed like that for a few weeks. They texted each other when they needed one another, Nora went to Harry’s parties just for Harry, and they flirted all through their class. Nora was comfortable with where they’d left things—clear and precise on the fact that they were nothing more than friends who were fucking. No relationship and no future of one.

Harry, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the disappointment he felt that night when she told him they were just hooking up. It poured through every fiber of his being and the more time he spent around her the more he knew that he had messed up. Royally. He had missed the opportunity to tell her how he felt, he had missed the opportunity to steer their relationship in a different direction and he was going to pay the price.

Because he was Nora’s.

She just wasn’t his.

It was a Friday night and Nora wasn’t at DSig—a rarity. Maddy, Taylor, and Lauren had convinced her to go to the bars with them, telling her they needed a girls night. That she had been spending all of her time with Harry (a lie) and they missed her. So she dressed up, looking hot as fuck if she said so herself, and got drunk with her girls. They played drinking games in her and Maddy’s living room until they were all perfectly wasted, before taking an Uber to Slots.

At first, it was just the girls. The music flowing, dancing at the table they get in the corner, dragging each other onto the tiny and cramped dance floor. It was sweaty and drunk and so much fucking fun.

But then, some boys who Taylor knows came over, and one of them had eyes only for Nora. He was tall, but not as tall as Harry, with dark brown hair, but not as curly and gorgeous as Harry’s, and blue eyes, but they didn’t pierce her heart the way Harry’s do. His name was Leo and he stuck to Nora all night. She let him too, basking in the attention, loving when he bought her drinks and asked her about her classes and her life. She asked him about his and the more they talked the more Nora thought he was cute. Not in the way that Harry was—Harry was hot—but Leo was cute in his own way. A bit unsure, fumbled for words, searching for the way to say something in a way that Nora would like. She loved the power that surged through her veins at knowing that she was desired by someone other than Harry.

Leo was a Economics major and planned on working on Wall Street after college. He was from a few towns over from their college and had planned to go here most of his life. He wasn’t in a fraternity, but he was in a couple of clubs and they discovered quickly that they had some mutual friends. He was kind and made horrible jokes that Nora laughed at anyways because she saw that he wanted her to laugh. No—he needed her to laugh. He listened intently when she told him about her major, about her interest in German history, about her time abroad. He asked her questions and listened, diving deeper and asking her more and more. She felt like he wanted to know her in a way she wasn’t used to and she was surprised, but also flattered. Harry didn’t ask her these things, they just came up in conversation. But Leo sought them out, desperate for more information about her.

So when he asked for her number at the end of the night, she didn’t hesitate to give it to him. She didn’t know what to expect, but it couldn’t be anything big.

But when he texted her in the morning asking if she wanted to get coffee that afternoon, she was thrown off guard. She had told herself she wasn’t going to date anyone. But it was almost March and she had been seeing Harry and a part of her was intrigued by Leo. She wanted to get to know him, see what he was about. If all else failed, she could always tell him it wasn’t going to work out, she decided. So she said yes.

Harry was working Saturday afternoon shift, aka his least favorite shift. He usually spent the afternoons in the library or his room working on readings or writing papers. He had to work on his paper for the Urban Studies class he had with Nora, actually, he realized as he flipped the switch on the espresso machine. Would she want to help him outline maybe? It would be an excuse to hang out with her in a purely PG environment, something he was increasingly trying to find excuses for. He wanted more from his relationship with Nora and had decided he was going to try and ease into the idea—take it slow. Maybe they’d just…end up dating?

Somehow he sensed her presence the second she stepped in the door of the coffeeshop. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a simple white tshirt and jeans that showed off her body in the ways he loved seeing. He watched her eyes lift from the floor and then they met his, a look of shock running across her face. Somehow they’d yet to have the discussion about which coffee shop he worked at, but here she was when he was working behind the bar making espressos and fancy coffees. Then, her eyesight shifted without even a smile in his direction, and he watched helplessly as she made her way over to a boy who had come in 15 minutes earlier—he was seated in the corner. He’d ordered some flavored latte, and Harry decided that was reason enough to hate him. He had never seen the kid before, but that wasn’t impossible at their school, especially if he wasn’t in a frat or in his classes.

“Harry.” He turned and Lauren, the other barista was looking at him in confusion. “You okay?”

He glanced back at Nora, her eyes bright and a smile dancing across her face. “Fine.” He grabbed the coffee cup Lauran handed him and turned back to the espresso machine, placing the cup under the drip and staring daggers at the back of this kid’s head.

Not too long after, Nora rose, her wallet in hand, and made her way to the bar. This guy wasn’t even going to buy her coffee? Maybe it wasn’t a date, he thought to himself. Any guy who didn’t take Nora out was an idiot, but that was a thought for another time. He heard Nora order her coffee, the same drop coffee and skim milk that he remembered, and tried to avoid making eye contact with her until she was standing right in front of his station and said his name.

“H,” she said, words soft. The nickname she used jolted through his body and he hated it. How dare she use while she was on a date with another guy? But then again, she wasn’t his, was she?

“What?” Harry knew his voice was gruff, but he didn’t care. She should know that he was pissed, even if he had no right to be.

She sighed as he filled her cup. “Why are you acting like this?”

Harry grabbed the milk and filled the cup the amount he knew she liked, and then looked up at her again. He rested his hands on the corner of the counter and leaned towards her—he wondered if she could feel the tension radiating between them. “You on a date?”

“I—“ she looked over to the guy who waved at her, and then back at him. “I don’t know.”

Fuck that. It was obviously a date. “Did he ask you to coffee, no studying or other excuse?” He handed her the coffee, but she didn’t move.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a fucking date, Nora.”

Her fingers slid up and down the cup, moving the sleeve with them. “Are you mad?”

The laugh that left his lips was dry, mocking almost, and Harry didn’t have it in him to care. “No, I’m perfectly fine, Nora. We aren’t doing any more than fucking, right?” He ignored the way the hurt look on her face stabbed his heart and turned away, desperate for literally anything else to do. A beat later, her heard her footsteps as she moved away from the counter, and Harry tried to blink the tears from his eyes.

Nora knew she had fucked up, but how did she fix it?

She was lying on her bed, staring up at her ceiling and running through every moment she had shared with Harry in the past few months. The sly gazes in class, the conversations as they cuddled in his bed, the sex—the sex. And him. He was unlike anyone she’d known, he was unlike Jonas in all the ways that mattered and the ones she didn’t know were important. Harry was someone she never saw coming and the feeling she had for him she’d been trying and trying to push down since she’d met him, because if she let herself feel them then she would be ripped open for him to see. All of her demons out of the closet laid bare for him to investigate, to judge, to tell her how handle. And she didn’t think she wanted that.

And Leo was simple. He might want to date her, but she didn’t feel the need to share everything about her life with him. He was…easy. They could date for a while, just enough to get her mind off of Harry, and then she could break up with him. She didn’t want something serious and Leo didn’t scream serious at her—he screamed pure, kind, caring. The kind of guy who wouldn’t push her when she didn’t want to talk, wouldn’t bed to know everything about her. And that was exactly what she needed.

And the exact opposite of Harry. Harry desperately wanted to know her—she could see it in the way he looked at her, and it scared the shit out of her. He knew all the surface things and was begging to see the depths of her in a way that wanted her to lock a door and never reopen it. But she had hoped to at least stay friends with him, she enjoyed spending time with him. After the way he’d acted today, though, she didn’t know if that was possible, though. He seemed royally pissed off, despite the fact that he didn’t technically have the right to be, she told herself. She wasn’t his, not in any real way. Despite the way he had said the words, they were true—they were just fucking.

Her phone buzzed next to her and she rolled over to see who it was—Leo.

I had fun today. Study tomorrow?

Nora considered her thoughts, the things she knew and the ones she didn’t. Leo was something to be explored, she decided. See you at noon, she replied, pushing the sinking feeling in her stomach aside.

When Harry saw her on the dance floor, his heart lept in his chest. She’d come to another DSig party, despite the date on Saturday he’d seen. Despite the fact that they’d barely spoken this week, no funny texts during the evenings or study sessions or picking up coffee before class. Just words shared about the lecture and reasons given for goodbye. He could see her messy waves bouncing as she jumped and he smiled, he’d always loved how she danced. Carefree, not giving a fuck what anyone thought of her.

He wanted to go to her, touch her, make her his. But then the face of that other guy flashed through his brain, and he couldn’t rationalize it. She was seeing someone else unless she said otherwise. Off-limits, at least for right now.

“That Nora?” Nash leaned against the doorjamb next to him, handing him a beer. “What’s she doing here?”

“Fuck if I know,” Harry replied. He’d told Nash about what had happened in a rare moment of honesty over one too many beers on Saturday night, but now he was thankful to have someone who got it. “Think I misread the situation?”

Nash shrugged. “Dunno man. She’s coming over here, though, I think.”

Harry whipped his head towards her and saw Nash was right—she was weaving her way through the crowd alone and heading straight for him. Nash left his side so he could be alone, and Harry was thankful for it. Nash was one of the rare good ones.

“H,” she said, voice barely audible over the thud of the bass. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He wanted to talk to her with every fiber of his person, but his brain was screaming at him to walk away, leave her alone, let her figure out her shit and come back to him after. Her fingers ghosted over his chest and Harry sucked in a breath. He looked at her eyes and realized she was pretty drunk—drunker than he was, at least. Is that what it took for her to touch him—alcohol? “Nora,” he said, covering her hands with his, “what are you doing?”

“Touching you.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, her tumbling down her back, “want you.”

Harry gulped. Did he have the self-control? “What about that guy?”

“He’s not here.”

“Are you dating him?”

“No.”

Harry considered her words, the look in her eye that was begging him to fuck her. And for some reason, he decided to do it. “I’ll only do this if you’re sure you want to.”

She nodded, curling her fingers into his black t-shirt, slightly damp from the sweat of being in a room this crowded. “Positive.”

And with that, he decided to shove all of his thoughts telling him that she was just using him to the side and kissed her. Her arms wrappd around his neck immediately and he grasped her waist, pulling her flush to his body. Fuck, he’d missed how she felt against him, like she was made for him. Nora’s fingers curled in his hair and tugged slightly, a moan falling from his lips that he couldn’t stop. “Upstairs,” he said, voice rough with desire and hurt and disappointment.

She followed him up the stairs, hand grasped in his, and pulled off her clothes the minute she was inside his room. He raked his eyes over her, knowing it might be the last time, and decided to fuck her like it was. Slow, deep—make her remember that she wanted him. Make her know how much he wanted her, that he regretted not telling her when he’d had a chance.

And so he did. He left hickies all over her body, telling whatever boy she was talking to other than him that she was his, fucked her so deep she moaned his name like a prayer, held her so close that their skin felt like one, and didn’t let her go after. When she rolled over and crawled down his body, he let her, wanting to have her go down on him one last time, to feel her mouth and watch her grip his hips as she bobbed up and down. And he fucked her again, this time a little faster, a little rougher, but just as deep. And he licked into her after, drawing another orgasm from her, trying to memorize her taste on her tongue, how his name sounded off of her tongue, the way it felt for her fingers to curl in his hair and pull. After, when she was curled up in his arms, eyes shut and asleep on his chest, he prayed that she wouldn’t regret it in the morning. That maybe she’d tell him it meant something, that she wanted him and not the other guy, that she was his and only his.

But when he woke up, the only trace of her was her perfume on his pillowcase.

Weeks passed without more than a few words in class and it pained Nora, but she understood. When she’d woken up in his arms, him holding her close so her faced was smushed in the crook of his neck, she knew it was going to be a bad idea to let herself do this again. He’d barely returned his texts or replied to her in class, the smiles she adored were forgotten. She avoiding the coffee shop where he worked and told Maddy she wasn’t going back to DSig. He didn’t want to be her fuck on the side anymore and she would respect that. She spent time with Leo in small doses, trying not to give too much to him, and when they had sex, she tried not to think of Harry. But it wasn’t as good, it wasn’t the same.

Leo introduced her to his friends and she struggled to stay interested in the conversation, her thoughts anywhere and elsewhere. When they studied together, she found herself on her phone stalking Harry’s Instagram, wondering who the girls in the photo he’d just posted were. It came time to work on the second paper for the class she shared with Harry and she missed his insights into her outlines. Leo couldn’t provide the same help and got frustrated when she didn’t take his suggestions (which weren’t good).

The trees changed colors and as she laid out on the lawns with a book, Nora wondered if Harry liked the Spring as much as she did. Maddy laid next to her with an iced coffee and her computer, working on an assignment for her GIS class, eyes flittering over to Nora every once and a while.

Finally, Nora heard her voice break the silence. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Nora lied. She was thinking about Harry.

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So you’re thinking about Harry,” Maddy said. She closed her computer and laid her head on her forearms. “Spill.”

Nora shut her book and sighed. She’d avoided talking about Harry with Maddy or any of her friends, never really telling them why it fizzled out. Just that it did and it was fine. Maddy had seen straight through her lies, but didn’t push. “I miss him,” she said simply.

“Then talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want me to.”

“Valid,” Maddy replied.

Nora whipped her head to her friend. “You’re supposed to say he’s stupid.”

“Well, he’s not,” Maddy said. “He’s got every reason to not want to talk to you—you started seeing another guy and then fucked him a week later.”

“But…”

Maddy sighed. “If you tell me you were just fucking, I’ll literally kill you.”

“We were, though!”

“Nora, you’re not stupid, so why are you acting like you are?” Nora narrowed her eyes at her best friend. How dare she?

“You’re supposed to always be on my side, you know.” “I am. You just aren’t thinking straight.”

Nora rolled over and shoved her face into the blanket they’d brought with them. “What am I supposed to do then?”

After a beat, she heard Maddy’s voice. “Do you like Leo?”

“He’s fine.”

“Fine.” Maddy parroted Nora’s word back to her and Nora grimed at how it souned. Bored, uninterested, which was exactly what she was most of the time. The interest she’d had in Leo had fizzled after the first two weeks, their conversations stalling, the desire dissolving.

Lifting her head nad making eye contact again, Nora said, “He’s boring.”

“And Harry?”

Harry. What was there to say and what wasn’t there to say? He consumed her thoughts and her dreams and she hated it. She’d had a sex dream about him last week while she was in Leo’s bed which was quite possibly the worst thing of all time. Sitting next to him in class was hell because she had to be close to his body, smell his cologne, just be around him, but she couldn’t switch spots because the other students would throw a fit. She missed the way he kissed her and touched her and said her name and laughed with her.

“He’s…Harry,” she said simply, becuase that’s all there was to say.

“Nor, I love you,” Maddy said, giving her a small smile, “but you fucked up.”

And Nora knew it the minute Maddy said the words. She’d hurt Harry and she just hoped there was some way she could fix it, because if she didn’t she didn’t know if she could forgive herself.

Leo was her first task. She texted him to see if he was at his dorm and when he said “yes!” she walked over, backpack thrown over her shoulder, a pit of dread in her stomach. Leo was perfectly nice, just not nice for her. He needed someone simple, easy, and most importantly, not completely infatuated with someone else, all things that she was not. Leo lived on the other side of campus in one of the nicer dorms, known for not having too many parties and only upperclassmen and thankfully for her, lived alone. If she had had to go in there and deal with a roommate after she broke up with him, nora didn’t think she could do it.

He answered his door immediately, a wide smile on his face, a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt for their college adorning his body. “This is a nice surprise,” he said, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Nora nodded, making her way inside. “Are you busy?”

He sat down at his desk chair and gestured to the notes spread out in front of him. “Studying. Or trying to, at least.”

She sat down on his bed, the plaid bedspread reminding her of the nights she had spent cuddled up next to him in his Twin-XL, much too small for her tastes. Harry’s double bed in the frat hour was far superior. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, the words rough on her tongue.

Leo cocked his head to the side but said nothing, shutting his laptop and giving her his full attention. Somehow, this was worse, having him stae directly at her. She almost wished he didn’t have the courage to look at her because she sure didn’t.

“I want to break up.” The words were blunt in the quiet of the room, the only sounds the soft echo of a door shutting in the hall. Leo blinked at her and Nora’s eyes shifted down to her lap, winding and unwinding her fingers. She knew she didn’t care deeply about Leo—not in the way she suspected he did—but she didn’t expect the words to come as easily as they did.

“Why?” Leo asked, his voice broken at the end of the word. Nora expected if she looked at him he would be tearing up; he was always more open with his emotions than she was. Vulnerable, something she did not excel at.

“I—I just…” Could she tell him? Be completely honest with him? Her eyes met his, trying to gauge what she should say.

But he beat her to it. “Is it Harry?”

“What?” She hadn’t even told him about Harry. Nora had kept those two parts of her life as far apart as possible, other than when Harry saw her first date with Leo. Otherwise, she made an effort to never mention Harry to Leo. She didn’t know if it was because she couldn’t bare it or if she said his name it would be harder to be around Leo. Either way, he wouldn’t have gotten Harry’s name from her.

“I saw his name on your phone one time. Asked around. Someone said that you and him were a bit of a thing before we started seeing each other.”

Thankfully this person seemed to have left out that Nora and Harry had last hooked up once she’d started seeing Leo. That was a truth that Leo didn’t need to hear. “It’s Harry,” she agreed, “but it’s also me. I’m…I’m just not right for you, Leo. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure that out, but it’s—this—just isn’t right.” That was about as honest as she could be with him without hurting him. And she didn’t want to do that, as much as she didn’t really care about him, she still cared about his feelings.

Leo studied her, his straight brown hair not falling into his face like Harry’s curls did. She loved Harry’s hair and somehow Leo’s always reminded her of Harry’s. Maybe that was the problem with Leo—he was a constant reminder of Harry, particularly of his not being Harry. “Why aren’t you right for me?” He asked, eyes darting around her face. “Like, how can you make that decision for me?”

God, so many things were wrong with them. “I’m not trying to make that decision for you,” she said, trying to backpedal, find her thoughts. “I—it’s...”

“So what you’re trying to say is that I’m not right for you.”

He was right. “Yes,” she said, voice soft. “But, fuck, it’s not like there’s something wrong with you. It’s just that I need someone and something else.”

Leo bit his lip, blue eyes hard as they looked at her. “And that someone is Harry?”

“Yes.”

It was silent in his room, Nora’s eyes falling to her hands still clasped in her lap. She didn’t have a plan for how to leave the room, but now she felt like she needed one. “Leo, I’m sorry—“

“Jesus, Nor, don’t fucking apologize.” She hadn’t heard Leo curse before, not even during sex, so the word was jarring. “If that’s how you feel then that’s how you feel, I can’t argue with you about it. I mean, I wish you’d been more upfront with me about how you felt, but I’m not going to sit here and say I thought we were completely fine. I just thought you needed more time or something…I just liked you so much, I thought you’d get there.” He swiped at a tear that fell from his eye and Nora softened. Just because she didn’t care for him in the way he did didn’t mean she was completely immune to his pain.

“I was hoping I did too,” she admitted. “You’re a really good guy, Leo. I hope you find someone who loves you in all the ways I couldn’t.”

Leo exhales and wipes his palms on his sweats before looking up at her. “Can…can you go now?”

“Fuck, yeah, ok,” she said, eager to get out of there if he wanted her out. She scrambled to grab her backpack and her shoes, tugging them on at the door. “I’ll see you around, I guess?”

Leo stood behind her in the doorway and just nodded. “Bye, Nora,” he said, and then shut the door in her face.

Which she guessed she deserved.

Harry didn’t know who—or what to expect when he heard a knock on his door at 12:30 at night. There was a party still going downstairs, it being a Friday night and all. Harry didn’t feel like attending tonight though, and had decided to spent the evening curled up in bed with a pint of ice cream watching re-runs of That 70’s Show on Netflix. He’d get up early and go for a run, he decided, and forcing pledges to clean up the mess downstairs. He’d probably end up helping them, though, because that’s just who he was as a person, no matter how many times Nash told him the pledges were supposed to do it.

So when he opened his door in just his boxers and a shirt, his glasses on the tip of his nose, the last person he expected to see was Nora. She stood probably a foot away in leggings and a big sweatshirt, her hair in a messy bun, and Harry wondered what looks she had gotten downstairs when she’d tried to get in. Although basically all the guys knew her by now, since she’d spent so much time in the house when they were…fucking.

Harry leaned against the door, waiting for her to say something. He decided after the last time that he wouldn’t hook up with Nora again, not unless she was properly his. So unless it was to tell him that, he decided he would kick her out, tell her to go home. Have one of the guys call her an Uber though, since it was late and all.

“I broke it off with Leo,” she said finally, brown eyes staring at him with such hope in his eyes he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Good for you,” was all he could come up with to say. What was he supposed to say? Thank god, I’m kind of obsessed with you still?

She looked at him and then into his room. “Could we talk…please?”

Harry stepped back and let her into his room, shutting the door softly behind her. She stood in the space as if she was meant to be there, a piece of art that had been on loan but was finally back home. Harry couldn’t shake the fact that he had been waiting for her to come and see him for so long and now that she was here he had no idea what to say to her. So instead he was quiet, waiting for her to speak, and went and sat down on his bed.

“Are you going to say something?”

“What do you want me to say?” That I can’t decide if I’m happy you’re here or mad it took you this long? That you look gorgeous? That I want you, but all of you not just the bits you give me? He didn’t have the words for what he wanted to say, which was everything.

“Just…fuck. I guess I’ll talk first?” She said, her words rambling—he could tell she was nervous. “I fucked up, okay? I pushed you away and I don’t even know why—well actually I do. But it wasn’t a valid reason. I should’ve talked to you, told you what I was thinking, not just started seeing someone else without any explanation.”

“Why did you push me away?” He asked, the rest of it blending into the background, zeroing in on those few words.

“I—can I sit?” She asked, gesturing to his bed.

He nodded, shifting over to give them space and so he could face her while she talked. Harry had this feeling that this was when he might finally know Nora after being on the outskirts of her emotions for so long. And he so desperately wanted to know. It felt like the only way to know her before this was through sex, through seeing her when no one else was looking and her emotions and her pleasure took over and she was just…her. But if she could give him words and context for the rest of who she was, that would be even better. Then he might, finally, know all of her.

“When I was in high school I dated this guy—Charlie—and we dated for a year, almost a year and a half. And he knew everything about me. All of my secrets, all of my past, all of the things about me that I was scared of people knowing. But he was a year older than me and so when he was going to graduate I wanted to break up because I didn’t want to be that high school girlfriend left behind, you know? I didn’t want to be worrying if he was going to cheat on me with some college girl, and I thought if it was meant to be we’d find each other again. But then, when we did break up, he spread this video of me going down on him around the school and it destroyed me.”

Harry’s heart stopped. Of all the things he thought Nora would share with him, this didn’t even make the list of things he expected. He wanted to hold her but she was sitting bent over, her eyes not even meeting his, and he knew that she had to do this on her own.

“And he didn’t even care? Or get it? Like he didn’t understand why I was so hurt--or he pretended not to, because if he didn’t think it would effect me then why did he even share them in the first place, you know? And then he graduated and he could just leave, but I had a whole nother year there in that place. And it was hell. My friends stuck by me, thankfully, but everyone else treated me like I was trash. And I couldn’t bring myself to file a police report or something because rehashing it all to some police officer felt even more horrible than just dealing with it on my own. But anyways,” she said, running her hand through her hair, “ever since then I’ve had trust issues with relationships. Especially when I have feelings for someone and trust them. And so with you, it was like I had this trust in you from the beginning and you were so good but also wanted me so much and it just…it was too much for me. But Leo I could hold at a length, you know? Like I could keep him away from my heart, but you, you wormed your way in without me even realizing it.” Her eyes met his then, and they just looked at each other for a bit, Harry struggling to find the right words. If there even were such a thing as the right words. Which there probably weren’t.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Harry said, picking his words carefully. “For him to have done that to you…it’s horrific. And I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

She gave him a small smile, her hand flickering up to wipe a tear from her eye. “Thank you.”

“When you said I…I wormed my way into your heart,” he said, breathless, “did you mean that?”

She nodded, hair falling into her face.

Harry scooted closer to her, so close that their knees were touching. They both sat criss-cross-applesauce on his bed and somehow it felt so intimate, more intimate than anything they had done before because they were just looking at each other. “You wormed your way into mine, too,” he told her, a light chuckle leaving his lungs. “And you haven’t left. Did I?”

He ran his fingers over her knee and he could hear Nora’s inhale of breath. “No,” she said softly. “I just refused to believe it.”

“Well,” he said, taking her hands in his, finding joy in the feeling of her skin under his again after so long. “Do you believe it now?”

Her fingers interwined with his and when her eyes met his, Harry knew that she did. “Yes,” she whispered, and Harry didn’t pause before taking her face in his hands and kissing her the way he had been craving ever since he woke up in an empty bed.

Nora’s reaction was immediate, lips melding with his, body falling into him in the way he had missed. Her fingers scrambled up his back, pulling at the fabric with a desperation that Harry felt in his bones. After weeks apart, he wanted to see her—all of her—and feel her against him.

“Will you take this damn thing off?” Nora mumbled against his lips, pulling at the neck of his shirt. Harry smiled at her frustration and pulled it off, groaning from the way Nora traced his tattoos. Her mouth attached to her favorite spot—the place right above his swallow where she’d sucked a lovebite into the skin so long ago—and it felt like coming home. The pain of her teeth nipping the skin sent goosebumps up his spine and he couldn’t stop the helpless hum that left him, loving the feeling of her so close to him. He could smell her shampoo in her hair when he leaned his head down to rest on top of hers, and when he tugged her head up and traced a line from her earlobe to her neck, wrenching aside her sweatshirt that he wish was his instead, the scent of her laundry detergent filled his senses.

“Your turn,” he said, nudging up her sweatshirt so he could grab onto the bare skin above her leggings. “Wanna see you.”

Nora leaned back and smiled at him, one of the smiles she gave when she was perfectly at ease. The same one he earned when he brought her ice cream to the couch or tucked the blankets in around her in bed or wiped at a bit of toothpaste at the corner of her mouth. The fact that she was at ease with him again meant the world to him—he was safe for her. After so many men who weren’t, she trusted him, and Harry was never going to give her reason to think it was misplaced. She pulled off her sweatshirt and he helped her get it over her head when it got stuck, muffled curses leaving her mouth before their lips could reconnect.

But Harry missed her skin. So he gently laid her back and set about recreating one of their first moments together, kissing a line from the top to the bottom of her body. Trembling mewls fell from her lips as he went about his work, sucking on her nipples like it was his God-given duty. “I, missed, you,” he said against her skin, each word with a suck of his lips, earning him a wanton hiss that left his aching for her. “All of you.” He licked a stripe from her rib cage to her belly button, softly nipping at the skin of her belly. He loved digging his fingers into her skin and adored the fact that she let him suck marks onto her. Most girls hated them, but Nora didn’t mind in one bit, and Harry was an arrogant son of a bitch and loved the idea of her looking in the mirror and seeing proof of how much he cared for her.

When he made it to her leggings, Nora wasted no time in lifting her hips so he could peel them down her legs. Harry pressed his forefinger to the fabric right over her center and gasped, looking up to catch her eyes. “You’re dripping, love.”

The blush that colored her cheeks felt so out of place in the moment, but Harry loved it all the same. “Your lips are…” She paused, searching for the right word before settling on, “good.”

“Good?” He hooked his fingers in the hem and pulled them down. “You need to work on your vocabulary, baby.” He loved using that pet name on her and he loved even more when it made her smile.

“It’s not my fault I’m not a—fuck—literature major,” she replied, cursing when his tongue licked a circle on her folds. “H, please, Jesus.”

Harry peeked up at her and sucked harshly on her clit, a sharp squeal reverberating in his ears. “Not Jesus,” he teased, rubbing circles on her clit as he nosed at her skin, “just me.”

Nora snorted, but when Harry dipped his finger inside of her, it quickly changed to a gutteral cry that only rose as he found an even rhythm of his finger sliding in and out of her, his tongue licking cirlces on her clit at an even beat. It was like music to him, the most perfect symphony of sound. Her fingers wound into his curls and when he curled his finger inside of her she tugged on his locks, a groan leaving his lips and falling on her skin, drawing a gasp from her. It was give and take and give and take and it was Harry’s favorite game.

“H,” she said, tugging at his head, “need you.” She groaned as he sucked on her clit again, Harry ignoring her words. He had missed the taste of her on his tongue and he wasn’t about to give it up. “Please,” she cried, “I’m too sensitive, I want you.”

“What do you want?” He asked, adding another finger just to torture her for a little bit longer. He lived for her little whines and moans, he decided, the way her eyes fluttered shut and then open, desperately trying to keep him in view. “Use your words, princess.”

“Your dick,” she said, not even wasting a second. “Deep. Please. Please, H.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, drawing his fingers from her, storing the groan that left her deep inside of him to remember for later. Harry wasted no time in pulling at his boxers, tugging them off and dropping them to the floor. She bent at the waist, sitting up and pulling his glasses from his face—he wasn’t sure how they had survived his assault on her skin—and tugging open the drawer in his bedside table, searching around for a condom.

“You’re out,” she said, turning to look at him with a surprised look on her face.

Harry let out a string of curses and clambored over to the table to look inside. She was right though—the brothers must have stolen them in the weeks since he’d last seen her. He’d been low before then, but he hadn’t had any reason to restock. “I—I didn’t need to restock,” he said, looking at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Nora wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back down against her, his body resting on top of hers, his dick pressed against her skin. “You haven’t been with anyone else?”

He shook his head. “You…and him?”

She nodded slowly and Harry tried to ignore the part of him that hurt. She was with him now. In his bed, with him, no intention of leaving. “It wasn’t as good,” she whispered, runing her fingers across his jaw. “He didn’t know me like you do.”

That sure as hell made him feel better.

“And we always used a condom,” she continued. “So I’m clean.”

His eyes widened at her meaning. Bare? With her?

Harry thought he might cum from the thought itself. “Me too.”

Her voice was small when she asked him, “Is that okay with you?”

Harry took her face in his hands and kissed her nose, begging her to see how much he cared for her, wanted her in every which way. “Baby, that sounds like fucking heaven.”

She smiled, her lips crinkling at the edges, and Harry kissed a line across the freckles that danced on her cheeks. “I want to know what you feel like,” she said, testing the words, “bare. Inside me.”

The deep growl that left Harry was one he’d never heard before, but it perfectly encapsulated how he felt at hearing her speak like that. “You…are magnificent,” he told her and then he leaned his body up, just enough so that he could reach down. Her fingers drew circles on his arms as he pumped his dick once, twice, a hiss between his teeth filling the silence around them. When he brushed his tip against her folds, they both moaned and Harry recaptured her lips, wanting to feel her moan against his mouth. He wanted to not miss one single sound that left her when he pressed into her.

And when he did it was like remembering how to speak.

Nora’s hands grabbed at the skin at his shoulderblades, begging for purchase—something to grip as he pulled back and then in again. The feeling of being bare inside of her, of feeling the velvet of her walls and the way she gripped him when she clenched without meaning to, Harry decided this was better than any high. “Faster,” she mumbled against his chin, but Harry shook his head. He wanted her slow, he wanted to feel her.

“Want this to last,” he whispered, words threatening to expose his deepest fears.

But she knew immediately, her hands cupped his chin as he thrusted deep inside of her and she said, “I’ll be here in the morning. And every day after. Okay?” She kissed his nose, then his eyelids when his eyes shuttered closed at the grip she had on his heart. “We have all the time in the world.”

Harry gathered her in his arms, wanting to be as close to her as humanly possible, and drove himself as deep as he could. Her legs hooked around his waist, begging him deeper, the neverending stream of moans spurring him on. But he tried to hold back, wanting to enjoy every second of this. Because she—she was heaven and Harry didn’t want to leave.

“I know you want slow,” she said, digging her fingers into his skin, “but I need slightly faster. Please, H. Please.”

That was all he needed. He would have slower later. He wanted to please her, he wanted to give her everything she asked for and more. So he leaned her down on her back and lifted her foot to rest on his shoulder, earning him a deeper angle and drawing a gutteral moan from her chest as he slammed into her. Their hips met over and over again, the only sounds the sound of skin on skin and the moans and breaths that left them both. Harry drove deeper and deeper, wanting to find every inch of her and when he hit a spongy spot she keened, back arching up into him, her breasts bouncing up and down in a way that begged to be touched.

So he did, never wanting to let her be without his touch. “You’re perfection,” he mumbled against her skin as he licked patterns on her skin, kneading into the other breast as he drove his dick deeper inside of her, hitting the spot repeatedly. “Utter perfection. Goin’ to tell you all the time, yeah? Never want you to forget it. How perfect you are. Nora. Nora, fuck, you feel so good,” he said, words a mess in his brain. He didn’t even know what he was saying but from the way she gasped and clenched around him, he knew she liked it so she kept going. He told her that she was all he thought of, of how he’d tugged himself off in the shower to the thought of her, how he could barely stand to sit next to her in class knowing he couldn’t have her. How she ruled his every thought and dream.

“I’m about to come,” she said, arms hooking around his shoulder so he could press closer to her, “you?”

He nodded, hair sweaty against her shoulder where his face rested. Her legs had fallen back to the bed and they were impossibly close. Harry didn’t know two people could be this close, but with Nora it didn’t feel like enough. He wanted to be inside of her skin somehow. To see every nook and cranny of her. He dug his knees into the bed and kept up the pace, hands kneading every inch of her skin, words whispered in her ear for only her to hear, and she did the same. She told him how much she cared for him, how she missed him every moment of the day, how being with him was a new kind of solace. Her fingers drew lines down his back that he decided he would treasure for the rest of time.

Suddenly, her walls fluttered around him and then clamped down and Harry knew she was coming. Her back arched her hands scrabbled for purchase on his skin, his name leaving her mouth in an echo, a prayer, a desperate desire for salvation. Harry could feel himself falling after her and he slammed into her once, twice, and again, and then he fell, holding her still against him as he came, her name whispered in her hair.

She held him against her, arms a cage around him and Harry didn’t want to move. He didn’t have muscles left, he didn’t think.

“H,” she said, kissing his shoulder, “I should pee so we can sleep.”

“But I want to hold you.”

He could feel her smile against his skin. “After. Promise.”

“Fine.” He rolled to the side and she kissed his nose once before pulling on her sweatshirt and his boxers, padding over the door to go pee. Harry’s eyes fell to the sheets which they had claimed as their own and he smiled. He had missed her—everything about her, but this was how they had started in so many ways. This was where they learned each other, memorized one another.

The door opened and she was back, a smile on her face, a flush on her cheeks. It was quiet downstairs—the party must have ended while she’d been here, he realized. “C’mere,” he said, arms outstretched.

She answered by stripping off her clothes and falling back into him. Her chest pressed against his, legs intertwined, and they lay there. “Missed you,” she said softly. “A lot.”

“Me too.”

There was a pregnant pause before she asked him, “H?”

“Mhmm?”

“Can you…” She trailed off and Harry swiped at her hair, pushing it back so he could kiss her neck.

“What is it?”

“S’awkward,” she said and Harry chuckled.

“We just had sex, baby, you can’t say anything that’ll be awkward.”

She ducked her head so her chin rested on his arm which was wrapped around her. “Can you put it back inside me? Miss the feeling.”

He stilled. Fuck, he thought, where did she come from? “Course, love.” He lifted her leg slightly so he could fit there, and then tugged at his cock a few times before pushing gently inside of her. “Still wet,” he choked out. “How?”

“Always want you,” is what she replied and Harry keened.

He pressed kisses to the back of her head and tugged her closer into his body. “Sleep now, huh?”

“Love you,” she breathed out and Harry’s blood stopped in his veins. It was so sudden, but at the same time, so right. The words were what he needed to hear always, he realized. The ones he had been missing.

“Love you,” he answered and closed his eyes against her hair, thankful that she’d be there in the morning so he could say it again.

Waking up next to Harry, shirtless and holding her close, was a dream in of itself.

Nora blinked her eyes sleepily, adjusting to the sun streaming in his windows. He had these soft grey curtains that didn’t do much except hold off the harshest parts of the sun, so whenever she slept over she usually woke up fairly early. Not that she minded too much—it meant she got to watch Harry as he slept, which he hated her doing when he was awake. He always got twitchy under her gaze and ended up distracting her, usually with his lips.

She rolled slowly in his arms so that she could look at his face. His brown curls were smashed against the pillow, long eyelashes framing his cheeks with an impossibly sharp cut to themm. His nose—Nora had always loved his nose—and his perfectly soft lips. Nora reached out a hand and brushed her fingers across his jaw and Harry’s eyes fluttered, but didn’t open. Nora decided that was a good sign, and continued to trace the outlines of his features. She’d missed looking at him studying him, just being with him. She didn’t realize it until she was gone, how much she ached to be with him. And now that she was here, she wasn’t going anywhere. She pressed her lips to the column of his neck, right above his adam’s apple, before gently pulling his arms away from her waist. He was pliant under her touch, adapting quickly to her absence, which she tried not to think about too deeply.

A collection of paper had caught her eye. It sat in the opposite corner of his room, shoved up next to his guitar. It was the one he still had on loan from the guitar shop downtown. He’d taken Nora there once, wanting her to see guitars and understand them like he did. She tried to, but her favorite part was watching him appreciate them—that was enough for her. She slipped on his tshirt that was closest to her and her underwear and made her way over to the stack. Maybe it was snooping, but the truth was that Harry didn’t share this side of him with her all that often. She’d tried to get him to sing for her, but he had refused time and time again. Nora tucked her legs in and sat down on the floor, grabbing the stack to investigate further. The first couple papers were scribblings—words and letters—chords, she realized, Harry had shown them to her. Some chord diagrams too. But when she got fifth page, it was different. Full lines. Chords matched up with it, his handwriting crossing out things and changing them. It was lyrics, she realized. A song.

She looked up at Harry, still curled up in bed, the sunlight hitting his face perfectly, and wondered if this was too much of an intrusion. But when she glanced down at the pages, she couldn’t resist. She wanted to know his brain, that was all. She wanted to know what he thought about and how. And so she read.

Don't you call him "baby" / We're not talking lately / Don't you call him what you used to call me

I, I confess / I can tell that you are at your best / I’m selfish so I'm hating it

I notice that / There's a piece of you in how I dress / Take it as a compliment

Don't you call him "baby" / We're not talking lately / Don't you call him what you used to call me

I, I just miss / I just miss your accent and your friends / Did you know I still talk to them?

Does he take you walking 'round his parents' gallery?

Don't you call him "baby" / We're not talking lately / Don't you call him what you used to call me

She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her eyes because the lyrics were about her. About them. About when she ended things and started seeing Leo. About her calling him “baby” over the phone when he was being annoying, about him seeing her with Leo and the pained look on the face, about the graphic t-shirts that he’d bought that resembled her own. About her accent when she spoke in French that he always loved, how Maddy told her that Harry still would stop and talk to her in the quad. Leo’s parents owned a gallery a few towns over and he’d taken her there on a date, and she’d mentioned it in class one day. “Don't you call him what you used to call me” hit her the hardest, because she never could. The nicknames that she gave Harry, baby especially, they were all just for him. Leo would give her pet names and she could never do the same. The words came easily with Harry, but for Leo, they would’ve been forced and even she couldn’t do that.

When she left Harry it had caused him so much pain—pain she didn’t even stop to consider. It was a snap decision, Leo, and when she thought about him she thought only of herself. How it would be easier for her to leave Harry, to stop what they were doing, to shove her feelings to the side, ignore them. But she had forgotten that she wasn’t the only person in whatever relationship they had. And she had hurt him, despite that being the utter last thing she wanted to do. She had wanted to save him from the trainwreck that she was, from her inability to care for people in the deep way that Harry did for her. But she had surprised herself, because what she had said to Harry last night after they’d had sex, right before they went to sleep, it was true. She did love him. She loved him with every bone in her body, every hesitant, dubious part of her soul.

She was his, even though it scared her.

“Cherry?”

She looked up at the nickname, one he hadn’t called her in a while. He was sitting upright in bed, looking at her on the ground with his papers in her hand. “I was curious, I read them. I’m sorry if they were private, I just—I wanted to understand.”

Harry shook his head at her, giving her a warm smile that immediately put her at ease. “It’s fine, love. What do you think?”

Nora looked back at the paper she was holding and then up at him. “Is this one about me?”

Harry’s eyes widen and she can see the panic on his face. He must not have known this one was in the pile or that she’d read it. “Fuck. Um, yeah—I’m sorry, I just…I needed to process, you know? And then I wrote it, I’m so sorry, it’s so personal, I—“

“H, stop.” She got up, feet padding on the rugs on his floor over to his bed. She laid the paper on the duvet and crawled over to him, throwing her legs over his so she could sit comfortably at his waist. “Don’t apologize, yeah? It’s okay. You have every right to write all about me, about how I make you feel, about your pain. It’s not mine just because I cause it, it’s yours because you feel it.”

Harry’s eyes searched hers, trying to discern if the words were honest. But he would find no hint of a lie, because Nora wasn’t mad. She was angry at herself for being so blind to how her actions had made him feel. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, curling a finger in his hair. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” she said, and shushed him when he tried to speak. “I didn’t think about how I was going to hurt you, I was thinking about how to protect myself. I tricked mmyself into thinking that somehow by distancing myself from you I was protecting me and you, and in the end I just hurt us both. So I’m the one who gets to be sorry here, ‘kay?”

He brushed circles on her thighs, chin dipped to think about her words. “It was so hard,” he said softly, words quiet in the silent house. No one else was up yet, it was just them, wrapped in their own world. “Seeing you with him. Knowing what you were doing with him and not with me. Having to see you all the time—it was like my own specialized torture.”

“Never again,” she said, pressing a kiss to his browbone. “I promise. I’ll tell you what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. No secrets.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her body in close, and rested his head right between her breasts. It felt so intimate in a completely different way than anything they’d done before. This felt vulnerable in that way where your heart is completely bared open, ready and willing to be taken from you. “Love you,” he said, words muffled in his t-shirt that she still wore. “No secrets.”

Nora kissed the top of his head and rested her cheek against his soft curls. “I love you too, H.”

They sat there on his bed, their body curled up against one another like two commas, perfectly aligned. Meant to be, as long as there were no letters separating them. And for now, it was just them, the two commas, in a sentence all of their own.

——————————————————————————————-

YEEEE SHE’S DONE!!!!! this took so long to get my shit together to write--I had like half written and just couldn’t figure out how to finish. there were supposed to be four parts, but I ended up just rolling it all together in this one. I’m planning to do an extra (#italy!harry anyone!?!?!?!!) and lmk if you have any requests for Nora + Harry. love u all to pieces!

ask me about fratboy!harry here | masterlist here | fratboy!harry tag

PART ONE | PART TWO

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #college #college au #harry styles college #college harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #fratboy harry #fratboy!harry #fratboy harry style #harry smut

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Drifters ch.4 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Edge is still puzzling out this strange new world. His brother is not helping.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge didn’t know what time it was when he woke again. It had still been morning when they arrived and there was still artificial daylight creeping around the curtains. It could either be late afternoon or early tomorrow morning for all the help that his internal clock was giving him.

He ignored the internal clamor that was pleading for him to go back to sleep, forcing his gritty sockets open. Rest could only replenish his magic so much, what he really needed was food, another slice of charity begged from the Swap brothers to add to his ledger, at least until he could find something resembling a job here.

(What could he even do here, would the denizens of this world look at his LV and only see a murderer, certainly Stretch had at first sight and—)

But there would be time to begin that daunting task tomorrow. Right now, something else had his attention.

Stretch had been correct about, well, actually, several things and one of them was that he was incapable of sleeping through any nearby movement, especially when it was with him on the mattress.

A glance next to him on the bed revealed that the baby was also awake and this time there were no screams to be had. Instead, she was inspecting her own feet with great interest, lying back on the bed with her oversized t-shirt puddled around her as her little fingers clumsily clutched at her wriggling toes.

Edge leaned up on an elbow, propping his skull in one hand as he watched her. “I suppose we were all that flexible once. I doubt Red could reach his toes now if someone tied a bottle of mustard into his shoelaces.”

The baby burbled something that might have been an agreement and managed to maneuver her foot into her mouth on the first try, gnawing on her own toes with slobbery vigor. She was obviously a genius, he decided, figuring out how to chew on her feet all on her own, and at her age…whatever her age was. He couldn’t be sure, there hadn’t been time for any of the niceties or paperwork, and whether it was measured by hours or days hardly mattered when it came to such an unusual method of creation.

The door bursting open made him jump, halfway to summoning an attack before he recognized his own brother. Then he nearly summoned one anyway as Red stalked across the room, crawling unceremoniously across the mattress and Edge to reach for the baby.

“all right, ya been hogging her long enough,” Red announced.

“Hog-we were sleeping!” Edge sputtered. He curled around the baby, hiding her beneath him as Red struggled to crawl around him.

“yeah, ya both sawed enough logs to fill the woodbox fer now,” Red panted. “lemme have the little crotchfruit.”

Edge struggled to keep the baby away from his brother’s child-thieving hands. “You’ll need a new insult, you know as well as I do that she didn’t come from anyone’s crotch.”

“good thing, too, don’t even wanna think about how that’d work with the size of her noggin.”

The child didn’t seem to mind the moniker. She crowed happily as the two of them wrestled around her, the mattress groaning threateningly with their struggles.

“c’mon, give it up,” Red whined. “i gave up all my shit to come here, too. ‘sides, i saw her first.”

“And left her!” Edge bit back a yelp as Red jammed a hard knuckle into his floating rib, the pain blinding him long enough for Red to scramble around his defenses.

“can’t have a rescue without bringing in the cavalry.” Edge could only watch, resigned, as his brother nimbly scooped the baby up then crawled back across the mattress to make his escape, managing to knee Edge directly below the crotch with a casual sort of accidental that could only be deliberate. He grunted in pain, doubling over, as Red sauntered out of the room to the squealing delight of the baby.

Lovely, she found the pain of others to be amusing. That was all the proof necessary to show that she was indeed from Underfell.

Edge sighed and fell back on the mattress, contemplating what charity he might beg first. Food? Or a shower, his bones stank of smoke and burnt plastic. He should be able to trust Red to watch the child long enough for him to clean up, he’d managed to raise him, after all…

…on second thought, perhaps he should check on the two of them first.

By the time he dressed and made his way downstairs, Red and the baby were sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. The baby was propped up again by the pillows and Red was piling wooden blocks into haphazard towers for the baby to gleefully knock over.

Edge gave his sockets a hard rub and looked again, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. This was not the brother he remembered from his childhood, although to be fair, even if they’d had any sort of toys, they couldn’t have risked making noise with them. A strange sort of ache rose in his soul and Edge firmly ignored it. Obviously, he was getting hungry, time to head into the kitchen to see what sort of food was available.

The scene in the kitchen was enough to stop him in his tracks again and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of hallucination, that perhaps they were still back at that lab and he’d failed, he was lying there as his life bled away, lost in a fantasy and—

The prick of his fingertips in his palms from his clenched fists was enough to convince him this was reality. Such as it was.

Stretch was standing at the stove, spatula in hand and the eye-searingly pink of his frilly apron offered dubious protection to his clothes. He flipped the pancake effortlessly, only sparing Edge a glance. “hey. you didn’t sleep very long.”

“I slept enough. Can I borrow something to wear?”

Stretch waved him off. “sure, sure, mi armario es tu armario. get cleaned up, dinner in about fifteen.” Despite the splatters of batter splotching his apron, the pancakes looked delicious in a way that had nothing to do with his burgeoning hunger.

Even with the promise of clean clothes that didn’t reek of char, Edge didn’t move, only watched as Stretch added the pancake to a pile that was already on the counter, buttering it lavishly and pouring out another round of batter into the pan. “I didn’t realize you cooked,” Edge said slowly.

“someone had to keep us from starving until blue decided to take over on kitchen duty,” Stretch shrugged. His smile was wry even as he expertly flipped the cake, “always tried to help him with it, but he can be pretty determined when he wants to be, insisted he needed to learn it on his own.”

And he’d obviously never pressed the point, despite however long he’d spent gnawing gamely at some of Blue’s more…imaginative…dinner creations, until Edge came to this world along with Papyrus and the three of them began to learn together. He liked to think that they were doing quite well, they hardly burned anything these days, but nothing they’d ever presented to their brothers had smelled quite as good as those pancakes did right now.

Edge gave himself a little shake and turned away. “I’ll go get cleaned up.”

After quick detour to the closet, Edge made his way to the shower with haste. He didn’t mean to linger, his magic was gnawing at him to wash quickly and get back downstairs, but the hot water was glorious, with no unexpected icy bursts or rattling groans from the pipes. He stood in the stream, letting it pour down on him in a steamy, numbing waterfall, a pounding echo in his skull that allowed no space for thinking whatsoever.

That was his excuse for what happened next.

“wet is a good look on you, edgelord.”

Whirling around to face the threat was automatic, but normally he was wearing boots with heavy slip-proof soles, not his bare bony feet against a wet mat. His feet went out from under him and he flailed for anything to hold him up, half-ripping down the curtain before the sudden tinge of blue magic seized his soul, holding on only long enough for him to get his feet back under him. He blinked water out of his sockets to see Stretch sheepishly standing by the tub, a towel in hand.

“whoops, sorry, thought you heard me come in,” Stretch said, wryly apologetic. “i don’t normally get the drop on you. literally.”

Normally, Edge wasn’t foolishly trying to avoid his own thoughts. He switched off the water, fruitlessly swiping at his face with his bare fingers.

“Hand me the towel,” Edge said brusquely, ignoring the embarrassed heat in his cheekbones as he snatched it away from Stretch, briskly drying himself off.

The temperature of his face only grew at the appreciative look that Stretch gave him, his eye lights wandering over Edge’s bones with enough weight that it was nearly a touch of its own.

“you know, red is watching the baby—” Stretch began, slyly. He yelped as Edge pushed roughly past him to the commode where the clothes he’d borrowed were sitting.

“You said dinner was ready,” Edge reminded him, dragging on the sweatpants he’d found in a pile of laundry that smelled reasonably fresh. A t-shirt followed and he’d resigned himself to whatever slogan was scrawled across it. His only defense was to not read it and he would simply have to base how awful the pun on it was on how hard his brother laughed when he saw it.

“hungry, huh.” Stretch slouched down, casually tucking his hands into his pockets, but there was nothing casual or sedate about the way he ran the tip of his tongue across his teeth, slow and invitingly. “me too, baby, i’m always ready to eat you ou—”

“Let’s get downstairs,” Edge interrupted, and his bright flush was no longer strictly from embarrassment. In spite of everything, the temptation to take Stretch up on that offer was absurdly strong. This was…he didn’t know how to handle this strange flirtation. This was not how their relationship was. They baited each other, antagonized with insults and banter, they didn’t do this, except it seemed that they did.

The urge to kiss him right now was nearly stronger than his ability to resist, to press his tongue between those blunt teeth and taste the sweetness of his mouth. He shouldn’t, he couldn’t, not right now, but…

Thoughtlessly, Edge reached out, watched Stretch’s sockets widen in confusion as he ran a careful fingertip down his cheekbone. The bone was not so sharp as his own, Stretch’s skull was set with delicate angles that left him far prettier than he had any right to be. His looks were probably the most appealing thing about him, and yet, here Stretch was, stepping directly into cooking and childcare, and putting that assumption to shame.

Softly, Edge said, with a sort of pleased jealousy, “You’re handling all this so well.”

A shadow crossed Stretch’s face, gone almost before it was seen. He reached up and took hold of Edge’s hand and gently drew it away from his face. “you think so, huh?” Stretch asked, with brittle politeness.

That gave Edge a pause. “I did until you said that.”

Stretch exhaled slowly. “okay, so, my fuckbuddy, who is also sort of an evil clone of me, just showed up at my house with his brother and kid science experiment, and they need food, lodging, and a lot of fucking help. sound about right to you?”

Brutally phrased, but nonetheless true. “I believe that’s the basic summary, yes.”

“yeah, well, not a lot of room to fit a panic attack in, now is there. give me time.”

Guilt rose in a heavy throb. He’d dragged Stretch into this without once considering what it might cost him, knowing that he wouldn’t refuse. He wouldn’t change his choice if he could, but Stretch certainly had the right to resent him for it.

“I’m sorry,” Edge began, haltingly, already considering the ways he might repay for what he was taking.

“noooo,” Stretch shook his head, “no, no, you stop right there, no. no apologies, none of that shit.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “look, make you a deal. we are gonna be all up in each other’s faces for a while, so how about both of us get to bitch and moan to each other whenever the mood strikes, about anything at all, and the other person doesn’t apologize or snark or anything. they can either listen or add some of their own bitch to the batter. agreed?”

Edge could only nod. It was more than a reasonable bargain, he’d be a fool to refuse it.

“come on, then,” Stretch gave him a nudge with his elbow and reached for the doorknob. “let’s rescue the kid before red starts teaching her how to pickpocket.”

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #drifters

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calligraphist-artemisia · 3 years

Text

Soul of a Lion (Chapter 8)

Sequel to The Smallest Blade.

Summary: After the Red Lion steals them away from the Marmora base and takes them through a wormhole, Shiro, Keith, Katla, and Lance find themselves in front of a majestic castle with nowhere to go but inside. The events that unfold while they’re there will change the fate of the universe.

Also posted on AO3 under the username “kishirokitsune”.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆

8 | Picnic on the Shore

Lance was pretty sure that he looked as miserable as he felt, but after his nap with the four mice he didn't have time to do more than splash some water on his face and smooth out his borrowed clothing in an attempt to make it look a little less rumpled. (It only slightly worked, but Lance couldn't bring himself to feel too upset about his disheveled appearance at that moment.) At least Allura was the only one who would see him in such a sorry state.

The room was easy enough to find, especially with the Princess waiting for him at the door and taking away his one final chance at escape.

“Uh, hey,” he greeted, lamely lifting his hand before dropping it back to his side.

Allura turned and faced him with a smile. “I'm glad you joined me, Lance. I'll admit, I was a little worried that you would change your mind.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn't sound like I have much of a choice. Not if we want to find another Lion,” Lance said, knowing his tone was flat and unable to bring himself to fix that. He took a deep breath. “What do you need me to do, princess?”

The answer turned out to be meditation, which seemed simple enough. At least it meant Lance wouldn't have to try and carry on a conversation with her, though it did mean sitting still and trying to clear his mind enough for her to connect with him. Which was a problem, because he didn't truly want her to connect with him.

Mostly it was the fear that she'd get a clear look into his head and find out the truth, and he was far from ready for that to come out.

But he'd promised himself and Keith that he would try his best, so Lance uneasily settled down in the center of the room and held Allura's hands. Clearing his mind long enough to properly meditate was more of a challenge than usual, but after a half-varga or so he felt that familiar floating sensation. He breathed out slowly as a form began to take shape in the unfamiliar inky darkness and soon Allura was there in front of him, her long hair billowing around her as though they were underwater.

(Lance wondered if it was the result of their combined mental landscapes. His was normally much brighter, as though he were high in the clouds and resting on a floor of reflective water.)

Lance looked up and saw a web of brightly colored string crisscrossing above him. “Huh, so that's what that looks like.”

“Oh, good! Katla and Shiro already told you what we're looking for!” Allura said, sounding pleased.

“Uh, yeah,” Lance lied. “We're... looking for a string?”

“Specifically, a glowing one,” Allura said, turning her gaze to the web. “It may be faint and rather difficult to see. The two unclaimed Lions are the Blue and Yellow ones, which should make things easier for us.”

Lance took that to mean that the strings would be the same color. Good. That would help it go more quickly and then he could go and... and do something else. The temptation to retreat back to his room was strong but it also wasn't helping him feel any better. He thought back to the quick list he made, trying to remember if finding Katla or talking to Hunk was the second step. After a moment, he picked Katla, if only to give his frazzled nerves a quick break.

“...the outer ones.”

Lance guiltily snapped his attention back to Allura, who didn't seem to have noticed his lapse. What was she saying? Something about “outer ones”? Was she still talking about the strings?

He looked up again, taking note of the way the web formed. Everything eventually linked up to a hexagonal shape in the center, crisscrossing and wrapping around to form what looked very much like a spider web, including the supporting strands that stretched out into the distance. There was a massive and bright cluster that Lance assumed led to his home, a smaller cluster that was possibly the Blade of Marmora HQ, and then a few rogue ones that were all by themselves. (Maybe the members of the Blade who weren't at HQ?)

Lance walked until he was standing beneath one of the single blue strands, taking a moment to examine it and see if he could spot a glow around it. He moved on after a few ticks, checking each and every one of the blue or yellow strands along the way. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Allura doing the same.

And then, finally, he saw it. A soft haze of pale blue around a dark blue string.

He was a Paladin.

Lance's breath caught in his throat as he reached out to the strand and then suddenly the world shifted around them. The other strings vanished into the distance as they were whisked along through space, rocketing past galaxy after galaxy. He could hear Allura struggling to name each of them as they whipped by.

And then everything began to slow. They passed by a massive gaseous planet with rings. Another with swirling red clouds. A dusty red one.

The string led to a pretty blue planet with wisps of white clouds and bursts of green from landmasses.

That was where the Blue Lion was hidden.

“It's beautiful,” Allura said softly. “I wonder what it's called. This is far beyond the range of space we explored ten thousand years ago. I hope I can find it on the star map.”

Lance didn't know what to say to that. He almost volunteered to help her, but was that something he could handle? It wasn't completely awful to be alone with her – not the way he thought it would be – and it wouldn't be the end of the world if they spent a little more time together. He sighed and shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his pants. Baby steps, he reminded himself. “If it does give you trouble we could just do this again, couldn't we?”

Allura's eyes lit up. “We could! Actually, would you mind if we follow the strand back to the center point? I want to make sure I'm remembering everything correctly.”

Lance took one last look at the mystery planet and then nodded, once again reaching up as though to touch the glowing blue string.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆

Arus was easily one of the more beautiful places Keith had ever had the privilege of setting foot on. (Not that there were many of them.) The wildlife within the bubble was sparse, with just a few birds and some short greenery, maybe a tree or two, but beyond the cliffside where the Castle of Lions rested were beautiful fields and a sprawling forest. There was also a village full of tiny beings that Keith and Lance had taken to calling the “Arusians” but it didn't seem like they strayed too far from the plains where they built their homes.

It was only because Keith thought it was safe that he invited Katla out for a picnic. Being in a new and unfamiliar place was no excuse to ignore their courtship and he wanted to start it out the right way.

Katla looked equal parts intrigued and unimpressed with being “out in the wilderness”, as she phrased it, for the first time. She'd gone her entire life living in synthetic environments and surrounded by technology, so it was a complete change of pace for her and one that Keith intended to make memorable.

“I guess it's kind of pretty,” Katla murmured as they passed by a flowering bush. She slowed down and breathed in, smiling at the pleasant scent before immediately sneezing – it was a tiny, delicate sneeze and Keith had to turn away so she wouldn't see his grin and think that he was making fun of her for it.

“I'm glad you like it,” he said. “We don't have to go much farther. The spot I picked is just up the hill and under that big tree.”

Katla rubbed her nose and looked at the flowers with a little more wariness in her gaze. “I wouldn't say it's going to become my favorite thing, but I don't hate it.”

Keith grinned at her. “We've only been out here for five doboshes. Give it a little more time.”

“Fine,” Katla agreed, crinkling up her nose. “But only because I trust you.”

He'd know that for a long time, but hearing her state it in a way that was so matter-of-fact brought a flush to his face. He looked away and adjusted the basket he was carrying into a more comfortable position.

They walked to the top of the hill in comfortable silence. Once they got there, Katla unfolded the thick blanket they borrowed from the Castle and spread it out across the grass before she eagerly sat down in the shade. Keith set down the basket near one of the edges and then joined her before opening the basket and pulling out the food and drinks that he pilfered from the kitchen that morning. (Okay, so Hunk caught him halfway through packing everything up and insisted on helping, so it wasn't really pilfering but Keith could pretend.)

“Please tell me that isn't nunvil,” Katla said, dread creeping into her voice as she pointed to the bottle of reddish liquid.

Keith quickly shook his head. “It's some kind of juice that Hunk made. I tried some before I packed it and it's pretty good. Mostly sweet with just a bit of tartness. Hang on...” He paused to retrieve a pair of cups and handed one to Katla, who immediately poured one for each of them.

She took a cautious sip and her expression melted into one of bliss. “Never tell my mom I said this, but the food here is so much better than anything we grow back home.”

That was one secret Keith was happy to keep. He liked living.

He picked up a basket of berries that had a slight coating of some sort of sweet and thickened sauce. Hunk had insisted on making them for him, saying that it was a staple of romantic dates and that Keith should hand feed one to Katla. It sounded silly to Keith but he figured that there was no harm in giving it a try.

“Here, try one of these,” he said, plucking one out of the basket and holding it up.

Katla reached out to take it and raised an eyebrow when Keith shook his head and pulled it away.

“I, uh, I'm supposed to feed it to you,” Keith said.

Katla still looked a little puzzled, but lowered her hand to her lap and leaned forward, opening her mouth once Keith pressed the berry near her lips. She took a tentative bite, humming a little as she savored the flavor, and then finished off the rest. “Interesting... Your turn now!”

Keith held out the basket so she could choose one for him and then obediently leaned forward to accept the berry from her hand. The coating was sweet, with a slight bitterness to it that only served to compliment the natural flavor of the berry; altogether a tasty treat. It was only the act of eating it from Katla's fingers that felt strange.

He sat back and put the basket between them so they could enjoy the rest at their leisure.

“So, what brought this on?” Katla asked, gesturing to the food around them.

“I...” Keith's voice faltered for just a moment. He took a deep breath as he met her eyes. “Katla, two decaphoebs ago I asked if you would accept my courtship once you came of age and earned a place as a member of the Blade of Marmora. I was going to ask you after your Trial, but then we ended up here in the Castle and have been busy ever since. Now that we have some time to ourselves, I am officially asking: may I court you?” Without taking his eyes off of her, he held out his hand.

Almost immediately, Katla slid her hand into his, an effortlessly bright smile upon her face as she nodded. “Yes!”

And with that great weight lifted from Keith's shoulders, their picnic continued on.

They kept the conversation light and casual as they enjoyed the food and pleasant weather, both needing a break from the constant talk about the Lions and whether or not the Alteans would ever be able to trust them or how they would maintain contact with Kolivan and her family. Instead, they brought up old stories and joked about what lengths Slav would go through next in order to see Shiro again.

“I just don't get it,” Katla remarked, shaking her head. “Shiro's cool and I feel lucky to have him as my mentor, but sometimes Slav invents these ridiculous reasons why it has to be Shiro who flies him to another location.”

Keith chuckled as he finished off the last of his juice. As he reached out to put the cup back into the basket, movement from the pond down the hill caught his attention. He looked a little closer, watching the ripples on the surface of the water, one hand reaching for his dagger, and relaxed when a massive fish jumped out of the water and landed with a heavy splash.

Katla jumped in surprise. “What was that?!”

“Some kind of fish,” Keith said, continuing to track its movement. If it stayed near the surface, maybe they could go down and catch it. It wouldn't be the most romantic activity for their first date, but it would be nice to have some tasty fresh fish.

It jumped again and Keith caught sight of a ribbon of purple painted across its side. In that moment, Keith realized what he was looking at and knew that they weren't going back to the Castle until it was flopping in his arms.

“Wait, is that...?” Katla trailed off, her voice full of wonder. “I've never seen one that big. We're going to catch it, right? That's enough to feed us and Shiro for days!”

“We don't know for sure if it's a daagti or not,” Keith pointed out.

Daagti were a type of rare fish that were a delicacy to the Galra. They had soft flesh that had a melt-in-your-mouth quality once cooked and a high amount of protein that was especially valuable to young cubs. For the Blade of Marmora, it was a dish saved for those who needed it most – particularly those who were recovering from injury and occasionally for a young cub who needed the nutrients.

Keith had the privilege of eating it more than once upon his arrival to their Headquarters, but it stopped once he reached the proper weight and height for a half-Galra his age – not that he was underweight before, but apparently the nutritional needs of a human child and Galra cub were very different. He remembered going with Kolivan to pick out which fish he wanted and seeing how small and how few they all were. There were only so many they were capable of raising at once and while they were fairly fast growers, they were also in high demand.

Katla was already on her feet, her tail twitching in interest as she began walking down the gentle slope towards the pond. Keith was fast to follow in her footsteps while keeping a close eye on the fish. The pond was a decent size. If they lost sight of it, they were unlikely to find it again.

“We need a plan,” Keith told her. “How are we going to catch this thing?”

Katla slowed down a little. “Good question. Maybe we could use our blades? If we come at it from an angle and herd it towards the shore then it has less opportunity to slip away from us. Stabbing it might be our best bet.”

“Worth a shot,” Keith agreed. He removed his dagger from its sheath and, in one fluid motion, transformed it to its sword form.

Katla drew her stiletto blade and held it in front of her for a moment before flicking the point and smiling as it shifted into a curved sword with an ornate guard. With unspoken agreement, she moved to the left while Keith went left and they slowly entered the water.

It was all very anticlimactic after that and both Keith and Katla agreed to embellish it for all of their retellings because it all went exactly as Katla planned. They drove the fish towards the shore, which made it flop around more in a futile escape attempt, and then Keith speared it through the head until it stopped moving.

It was too big for either of them to lift on their own, so once they hefted it onto the grass Katla ran back up the hill for the blanket and they used it to drag the fish back to the castle with minimal effort while also carrying the basket.

Shiro spotted them on their way to the kitchen and came to a dead stop. “What's going on?”

“Nothing!” Keith said defensively.

“We caught dinner!” Katla chirped.

Shiro raised an eyebrow as though he didn't believe them - which was only fair after all of the shenanigans they got up to as cubs – but rapidly changed his tune once he got a look at what they had dragged back to the Castle. He stepped in to help them take it the rest of the way and then helped filet it into more manageable pieces, some of which were set aside for dinner while the rest was put away into stasis. (That didn't stop him from eyeing the smallest of the cuts, wishing he could try a piece then and there instead of waiting.)

“Where did you find this, anyway?” he asked instead.

Katla left it up to Keith to explain how they were picnicking near the skinny end of a massive lake. She would jump in if he needed any help with their embellished tale about wrestling the massive fish onto the shore, but he didn't seem to have any problems.

She smiled to herself as she began moving the fish into the stasis chamber.

She and Keith were officially courting.

It felt - well, not inevitable exactly - like they were on the path that they'd always been heading towards. Their transition from friendship to courtship was easy for them because they already knew where they stood with one another. It was something she'd been dreaming of for years, even before he promised to ask once she passed her Trial and there was a part of her that thought they would have to push it back thanks to their untimely arrival on Arus, but Keith managed to surprise her in the best way possible.

In their world of uncertainties, it was nice to know that there was one constant she could rely on.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆

Allura called everyone to the Bridge for a meeting just before dinner.

There were no looks of surprise or curiosity as they all shuffled onto the deck, which left Allura to assume that they all expected a meeting of some kind. Lance, who had been with her when she decided to make the call, had picked a wall to lean against while they waited and it was to him that Shirotak, Katla, and Keith flocked once they arrived. Hunk stood somewhere in-between and was joined by Coran, who was the last to arrive simply because he had been in the lowest part of the Castle of Lions, where he continued his examination of the engines.

Allura serenely folded her hands in front of her as she looked over the future Paladins and hoped that she was doing the right thing by trusting them.

Once she had everyone's attention, Allura activated the star map to show off the carefully placed markers she'd taken the time to set up. Each one showed where one of the Lions were located – all but the Yellow one. The Black and Red Lions were shown on Arus, which was in the center of the map. The Green Lion wasn't too far away on a planet lush with flora, but on the other side of the room was the planet holding the Blue Lion.

“As you can see, we have successfully found two more of the Lions. This leaves only the Yellow Lion without a Paladin.” She paused to let her words sink in as well as to brace herself for the aftershock of her next idea. “I've given it some thought and it is my belief that the Yellow Paladin is in this room.”

Allura noted with some interest that Shirotak's gaze slid to Hunk. Good. She could use someone to back her up. She took a deep breath and also looked at Hunk, whose gaze reflected confusion at first but swiftly turned to mild horror. “Hunk,” she said softly, even as he started to shake his head in denial.

“You're wrong,” he croaked.

“Hunk, there could be no better choice for the Yellow Lion. You share many of the qualities that Gyrgan...” She choked up a little but plowed on. “Traits that the previous Yellow Paladin exemplified. Your strong will and mighty heart make you the only one right for the job in my eyes and I do not doubt that the Yellow Lion feels the same.”

Coran gently placed a hand on Hunk's shoulders when the dark-haired Altean continued to struggle with the idea. “He would be proud to know that you are here to follow in his footsteps.”

Hunk looked around the room in search of help but found only friendly, smiling faces urging him to give it a try. Even Lance gave him a nod and attempted a smile. Hunk's shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded. “Okay... but only if this is what the Yellow Lion wants.”

Allura clapped her hands together in relief. She'd honestly been expecting a drawn out battle, filled with plenty of pleading looks and perhaps a hint of bribery.

“So, does this mean you guys are going to the garden?” Katla asked.

Allura shook her head. “No, if you don't mind waiting, I believe Hunk and I will be able to connect here. This won't be the first time we've connected our mental landscapes, so I don't think it will take us long at all.”

“Why don't I show you all some of the controls while we wait!” Coran said eagerly. “Each of you has a seat around the main console from which you can control small drones for exploration and reconnaissance!”

Allura and Hunk left the others to their new task while they retreated to a corner so they would be out of the way. They decided to sit on the floor rather than stay standing since neither of them were sure how long it would take.

Luckily, it wasn't long before Allura found herself in a familiar hallway lined with old-fashioned, wood shuttered windows. Each one had a letter and a symbol embossed on the surface – Hunk's preferred way of organizing his mental landscape. The windows represented the people around him and he could open or close them at will, depending on whether or not he wanted a better “look” at their emotional state. The one nearest to her had the first glyph of her name and the image of a Juniberry flower in full bloom.

She didn't touch it, despite the temptation to do so, and instead made her way to the end of the hall, which branched off into numerous winding directions. Hunk was standing just inside one of those branches and was nervously shifting from foot to foot.

“Do you feel drawn towards a particular direction?” Allura asked.

“I... maybe?” Hunk sounded unsure. “It feels like there's something over this way, but I haven't wanted to go look.”

Allura nodded in understanding. He'd mentioned in passing that his mental shields weren't in great shape after sleeping for so long – even if that amount of time felt like nothing to them in stasis, it still had an effect on them. (She wasn't back to her full strength either.) It was reflected in the way the halls of his mind darkened as they progressed away from the main area.

The shutters of the windows were broken. Cobwebs were strung across the corners where the walls met the floor. The starry sky above them grew dim.

Allura shivered and tried not to look too hard at the windows they passed by – the windows that showed a broken connection to all of those they had lost. She only stopped when Hunk's sharp inhale broke the silence and his footsteps stuttered to a halt.

There was one window that wasn't broken. The shutters were painted a cheerful yellow and in the very center was the raised, detailed face of a Lion.

They had found him.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆

But of course, it wasn't as easy as immediately leaving to retrieve all of the Lions. They needed a plan first and ideally, a full night of sleep before any of them set off for far-away planets. Katla's disappointment was palpable in the air, but luckily Shirotak found a way to distract her. (Something about a fish for dinner? Clearly, there was something Allura had missed.)

“In order to reach each of these worlds I will have to create wormholes,” Allura told them, gesturing broadly to the star map glowing around them. “The only downside to this is that we will also have to lower the Castle shields, which will leave us vulnerable to the enemy. They will be able to pick up on the energy signature the Castle gives off. We will have to move quickly to retrieve the Lions and bring them back here. I need each of you to be prepared for a fight.”

“The Castle of Lions isn't ready for flight, but the weapons systems are all in tip-top shape and ready to provide support,” Coran said.

Allura nodded. “Good. We may need it.” She paused and looked over everyone, who looked a little dismayed with the idea of needing to immediately fight upon finding the Lions. It wasn't an ideal situation by any stretch.

“Go and enjoy your evenings,” she said. “Tomorrow morning we find the Lions.”

Maybe she should practice giving more inspirational speeches. No one looked particularly enthused as they left the Bridge. Allura sighed and took her time turning off the star map, allowing herself a moment to get lost in her thoughts.

As she turned to leave, she caught sight of the four mice tumbling in from one of the vents near the floor. She could feel their excitement as they raced over to her and she knelt down to pick them up, all the while trying to make some sense of what they were trying to communicate. She could understand them but since they didn't speak using words it took a little bit of creative interpretation on her part.

“A picnic?” Allura asked. She smiled when Chuchule twirled around in her palm and fell against Platt. “That's really sweet. And you say Shirotak and Hunk bonded over the training deck? Ah, over Hunk showing him how it functions. Yes, that makes more sense. And... wait, slow down. What are you saying about Lance?”

There was so much squeaking, so many different thoughts bombarding her at once that it was hard to parse through. Finally, Chulatt elbowed the others aside and they went quiet.

Allura's eyes went wide and she sucked in a gasp, struggling to accept what he was telling her. “Lance is... Lance is a what?!”

#voltron #fanfiction #kidge #kidgemas #Soul of a Lion #Galra Shiro #Half Galra Keith #Half Galra Pidge #Altean Lance #Altean Hunk

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idesofrevolution · 5 years

Photo

For @thehopefulenemycollection. Waited wayy too long. It’s unacceptable. This is my first Body Swap story, so bear with me.

I snapped a pic, knowing full well that somewhere, somehow, Will would know I’m enjoying every moment in his body. The transition was difficult, for sure, but it seems we’re adjusting pretty well to our new lives. In fact, I think he’s taking it rather well. I imagine you’re trying to decipher just what the hell I’m talking about. It’s a bit of a windy, twisty tale. So I’ll start from the beginning, try to keep up.

I’d been Will’s supervisor for a while. When they told us we’d be taking on new employees, my mind immediately went to the incomparable irritation of training some new brat that’s fresh out of school. That’s how it’s been before, and I just was not interested in wasting my time with an entitled little brat. So imagine my surprise when this tall glass of milk walked through our doors. He was attractive, smart, sweet... And, God save me, Australian. To say I was enamored with him is an understatement. Fortunately, he was a quick learner, and adapted to his position quickly. He was honestly a delight to train and a lovely addition to the workplace dynamic.

Over the following weeks, we’d forge a bond. I can only imagine the gossip behind the scenes: a thirty year old bisexual black guy and a twenty one year old Aussie bro. The optics were hard for some to accept, but for us, we didn’t care. We felt some sort of a connection- despite our differences in upbringing, lifestyle, and just about every demographic.

We told eachother everything. Open communication helped build a rapport where we could speak our minds without fear of judgement or prejudice. I’d vent about being a thirty year old virgin, in love with a girl I’d never be able to get. He’d talk about his struggles with being young: never being taken seriously by anyone. Never having the opportunity to flourish. And one night, our conversation was the deepest it could have ever gotten.

We’d been the last two out of work, as he was finishing up the menial tasks I’d given him, he walked into my office with a bottle of Hennessy and two glasses. I was elated. As he sat down in the chair across from me, I poured us a drink. With an obligatory toast, they flowed down the hatch.

“You know, Brad, I don’t know if I wanna stay here.” He looked forlorn, his head hanging low. “I just don’t get the respect I deserve for everything I do. I get everything done every single day, and all I ever get is a thumbs up at best. Nothing I do is ever appreciated.”

“Will, I hope you realize I recognize everything you do. If I didn’t communicate that, I’m sorry.” I reached across the desk, grasping his shoulder. His normally strong, broad shoulders felt limp and defeated. “You do amazing work here, and I’d be so sad to see you go. But you have to do what’s best for you.”

“Man, sometimes I wish I had what you have. A steady job, a full life, stability...” I looked at him quizzically. He wanted what I had? What I saw as a mundane, everyday existence was a goal for him.

“Are you serious? I’d kill for what you have. Look at you, you’re young, attractive, with big prospects and a massive potential.” He looked up at me, a coy smile gracing his face.

“You think I’m attractive, huh?” My face flushed a bright red. Had I shown my card? I’d always felt like something of a mentor to Will, but over the course of our relationship... He was incredible, how could I resist falling into the temptation of lusting after him. “My man, you’re a good looking guy yourself. If I could, I’d give you everything I have if it meant I’d be trading with you.”

Another round of Hennessy, and we kept talking. Kept dwelling on how we’d live our lives if we were eachother. I’d go out. I’d have Sabrina. I’d have use my assets to the fullest. As I outlined my plan of how I’d be an amazing William, he spoke about how he’d go back to my apartment. Enjoying just relaxing, enjoying not worrying about where the next paycheck would go, enjoying feeling stable and sound.

Down the hatch went round three, and by this point, we were slightly inebriated. From what little I can recall beyond slurping down the last remnants of the cognac, we laughed and joked and enjoyed the freedom of eachother’s trust and company. Note how I stated ‘what little I can recall.’ Beyond that point, it was all a blur. What I can recall is waking up the next morning in my office.

My head was throbbing. Pulsating. At thirty, a hangover seldom keeps you down, but this was incredible. I could see stars in my periphery. I lifted myself up from the chair, and walked to the bathroom. Turning the water on, I splashed my face with cold water; only noticing after a few rubs of my eyes that my hands were not my own. They were big, slender... and the dead giveaway: they were white. I stared into my borrowed blue eyes and dropped to the ground. I was Will. Looking down, I saw his long, limber legs and youthful, narrow torso where my average body had once been. I scrambled to my bigger feet, and stared once again into the mirror. His beautiful face stared back.

“What the fuck!” I heard a familiar voice bellowing from my office, it was my voice. “Brad! Where are you?” I bolted past the door and stared at myself examining my dark, ebony hands. “Whoa, whoa... What?” Our eyes met, and it clicked. It was still us, the very same people as before, but reversed.

“Okay, let’s not panic, man.” I tried to calm him with my now velvety Australian accented voice. His response would take me by surprise: he began to laugh. I saw him come over from behind the desk, pointing his finger at me while smiling my wide, toothy grin.

“It happened, Brad! Or, should I say, Will?” Confused by his reaction, I stood there shell shocked. “We wished for it, man. We got what we wanted!” I shook my head, putting my hands on my face. What did it all mean, how could I adapt... The uncertainty was overwhelming. The room began to spin, and within seconds, I hit the ground once again.

When I awoke, ‘Brad’ had taken the liberty of laying me down on the couch. He handed me a glass of water, which I gladly accepted. As I took a sip, I stared at him. Our glances locked. He grasped my head, and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss. The sensation of feeling my former tongue probing this new mouth, and the expertise in which he used it... It was incredible. The thick lock of lips and intense groping... I’d never been filled with such ecstasy. I felt the virile passion of youth once again, and the mood take over.

He unbuttoned his pants, whipping out the big, dark cock I always dreamed of putting to good use. How could I have ever imagined that he’d be putting it to use for me? I took him into my mouth, savoring the taste of my own former cock sliding in and out of my lips. It was bizarre. It was wrong. But it felt so right in that moment. I groped his pendulous balls, feeling the roughness of pubic hair and the slickness of sweat. Pulling them, fondling them, with each grasp he gasped for air. Within moments, he grabbed the back of my head, and began to thrust into my open maw. Back and forth, back and forth, the tip of his cock pounding the back of my throat.

“Unngh... I... I feel it coming...” The sensation of his warm, silky cum flowing down my throat in streams will forever haunt my thoughts. Burst after burst. As he pulled out, it was literally dripping from my bottom lip, stuck on my stubbled chin. “Holy shit.” He was right. It was amazing. It was unbelievable. And now, it was our reality. As I quietly gathered up my clothes, taking the unabashed sniff of my youthful scent, we smiled at one another. As I departed for his small, garbage apartment, he left in my Ford Explorer.

That brings us to the present. Here in my new apartment, snapping pics of my new self. Sending the cocky pic to Sabrina, if only to mark a late night rendezvous off my bucket list. What could have ended as a cataclysmic catastrophe ended up as the best thing that could have happened to us. In fact, perhaps this is exactly how it was always meant to be.

If you liked this story, please consider supporting my work through my PATREON.

#male bodyswap #racial change #bodyswap #age difference #gay #bisexual #original #takeover #possession

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cchellacat · 5 years

Text

Unexpected

Lance Tucker x Reader

Fluff

Drunk Drabble:

Prompt: Awkward kiss with Lance

The first part of this was written for @book-dragon-13 as part of her birthday drabble, the longer second part is a direct response to a drunk drabble prompt. I hope everyone will enjoy this very fluffy Lance Tucker story! xxx

Honestly, sometimes you wondered why you bothered with Lance. This was the third time in a month that you’d had to come pick him up from a bar. Things hadn’t gone well for him after the accusations of knocking up his gymnast came out. He’d pretty much been barred from the sport and no one was looking for him to coach their kids after the alleged affair had had the newspapers. Truthfully, you felt sorry for him. Unfortunately, his reputation as a ladies man was not working in his favour. You knew it wasn’t true of course. Lance was many things, but even he would never cross the line and sleep with his pupil. He took coaching too seriously. Took the whole sport too seriously to ever tarnish it or himself that way.

You walked into the bar and spotted him right away. Gone was his usual outfit of choice, now he sported dark jeans and a black leather jacket, his hair which he had always took so much pride in was a tousled mess, no product to keep each errant curl in place. In a way you thought he looked better like this, less slick and prepared, more bad boy walking. He was slumped over the bar, head resting on his folded arms. The bartender looked up and gave you an apologetic smile.

“Lance…” you poked his side and he turned his head to glare at you briefly.

“What are you doing here princess?”

“Bailing your ass out, again. Come on, I want to go to bed, it’s nearly two and I have a gym to run in four hours.”

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, it only made it worse. God his hair looked sinful like this. You rolled your eyes at your own thoughts and hauled him off the bar stool.

“Come one drunkie, you can sleep on my couch tonight, pick up your car tomorrow.”

The bartender held the door for you as you helped him to the car, passing you Lance’s keys as you left.

It wasn’t a long drive back to your home, but the six steps up to the porch and through the door were nearly impossibly with Lance an almost dead weight at your side.

Finally getting him on the sofa you pulled off his shoes and jacket and gave him a cushion for his head. You grabbed some water and pack of Tylenol and placed them on the side table, he’d need it when he woke up.

Looking down at him, half sleeping, his brow still furrowed, you gave in to the temptation to kiss him good night, the light kiss pressed to his head, smoothed out the lines. Before you could stand back up, his eyes opened, catching you in the grip of his impossibly blue gaze.

“I’m sorry I’m such and ass, you should just leave me, I don’t deserve you princess.”

“No, but I’m here anyway…” You trailed off, freezing as his hand cupped your face. In the stillness of the moment you forgot to breath. You didn’t resist as he brought you down into a sloppy, wet kiss, it wasn’t mind blowing or earth shattering, but you kissed him back, just for a brief moment, let yourself pretend. He’d forget he’d done it in the morning.

You pulled away and tucked the blanket around him. Smiling sadly as he drifted off to sleep. The tiny truth that you kept to yourself, that you loved this asshole, locked up back tight in your heart. It’s why you always came for him, why you would always help. But it was best that he never knew, you couldn’t stand the thought of him rejecting you, no matter how kindly he might do it. Lance Tucker, heart breaker and love of you life.

Three months later…

The double doors of the gym flew open, causing you to startle bad enough to break your concentration. It was after hours, you’d stayed to do some practice, even though your competition days were long behind you and coaching had become a passion rather than a chore, you still loved to have the gym to yourself, a chance to run through old routines and keep yourself challenged.

Your arms dipped as you briefly lost your grip on the bars, only the momentum you’d built, holding you up long enough to fix it and throw yourself far enough to execute a sloppy turn into a blind landing. You knew before your feet hit the mat that you’d either fall or twist your ankle from the impact. Strong arms caught you, slowing the landing enough that neither happened, instead you found yourself nestled carefully in Lance’s strong chest.

“Fucking hell, B, what the fuck! You know you’re not meant to be doing this shit, especially not without someone to spot you!”

Instant embarrassment swept through you, but it swiftly turned to annoyance. You pushed away from him, angrily unfastening the grips from your wrists.

“I’m not twelve Lance, I can do a few simple routines without a babysitter, besides, I’d have been fine if you’d came in like a normal person instead of making a friggin entrance to an empty gym!”

Lance cocked his head to one side, lips drawn in a thin line and crossed his arms, staring you down.

“You’re only mad that I’m right. You know the damn rules, you’re the one that made them after all.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my gym, I get to make the rules, I don’t have to follow them.”

“How’s that working out for you Princess?”

“Fuck you Lance!”

“Working on it, cupcake.” He grinned at the stunned look you gave him before winking and heading back to grab the bag he must have dropped when he’d made his way over to catch you.

Unzipping the beg, he pulled out a bottle of Champagne and smiled blindingly at you again. That’s when it hit you. You hadn’t seen him look this relaxed and happy in over a year.

“You know what this is Princess?”

Opening your mouth to reply, he cut you off before the question left your lips.

“This is victory!”

“Victory? Lance… what the hell is going on?”

“Just got back from a meeting with my lawyer. The DNA test came back.”

“Oh.. wow.”

It had been a tough year since he’d been accused of sleeping with his athlete and getting her pregnant. The courts had insisted on a paternity test at Lance’s stubborn denial but Maggie had fought against it tooth and nail.

“I can finally clear my name.” his eyes were bright and for a moment you could see the struggle behind them, the vulnerability that he was so good at hiding.

“Lance, that’s amazing!” the genuine happiness that spilled out in your smile reached over the distance between you and he quickly made his way back over to you.

“I’ve been saving this for the right moment.” He told you, lips crooked wryly. “I knew there was only one person I wanted to open it with.”

You let out a short laugh and shook your head.

“Me? Come on Lance, why on earth would you come here? I thought when this day came you’d be straight back out there, crowing your victory down at the Lounge.”

But even though you were disbelieving of his words at first, the strange quiet that rose between you seemed to carry the sort of weighty sincerity you so rarely saw in him.

“Come on.” He grabbed your hand, dragging you up to your office as he explained the chain of events, ignoring your denial of his initial words.

Popping the cork, he grabbed the two chipped mugs you both used for coffee and poured the sparkling fizz with a grand flourish.

“Now, you’re going to sit there, Princess, and listen, don’t expect me to get this mushy ever again.”

You accepted the mug quietly, managing not to drop it when his finger brushed yours and sat gingerly on the edge of the desk.

“I pride myself on being the biggest asshole in the room. I’m fucking good at it. I never needed anyone, I’ve always been my own cheerleader, didn’t need someone to do it for me or believe in me… but.” He stopped for a second, pausing as he kept his eyes on yours a sudden seriousness overtaking his cocky bravado. “It didn’t gain me any friends. Didn’t know I’d need one so I never really tried to make any. Then all the shit with Maggie went down and no one believed me, not even my own mother. I was drowning in legal fees and no one would hire me to clean a locker room let alone coach any kids. But you did. You gave me a job and you didn’t believe all the bull-shit Maggie and the media were pushing and you never made me feel like I didn’t deserve to still be doing what I loved, and I know this gym took a pretty big hit financially because of it, that your reputation was questioned too. You’ve been there every time I fucked up for the last year and you didn’t cut me loose. I don’t think I’ve got enough words to tell you how much it meant, how much I appreciate it and how god damn lucky I was that you stood with me when you didn’t have to.” He raised his mug to you. “So, here’s to best woman I know, thank you for never letting me down, even when I let you down.”

His words washed over you and tears pricked your eyes. You squashed the wave of affection down with great effort and took a breath before setting down your mug and hopping off the desk.

“Good god, who knew Lanck Tucker could be such a sap.” The words spilled out shakily as you blushed and did your best not to cry. It was the nicest thing anyone had said to you, let alone Lance. Throwing caution to the wind you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him. He pulled you tight into his embrace and buried his face in your neck.

“No one will ever believe you.” He quipped with a mock growl and you giggled as you breathed in the clean scent of him.

Just before the hug could become weird you began to pull back, giving him a soft smile of understanding.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.” You told him with a conspiratal look. His eyes crinkled in response and you turned your head away, unable to hold his gaze for too long, afraid you would give how you really felt away, which was the same moment he’d decided to kiss your cheek. His lips landed on yours awkwardly, making you freeze, eyes wide with surprise. You couldn’t breathe, a million thoughts running through your head. Instead of pulling away completely, his hands tightened on your waist, his lips still inches from you own.

Deep blue eyes regarded you, a hint of a frown on his pretty face before he seemed to decide something and he leaned back in capturing your lips softly with his own. This wasn’t a drunk sloppy kiss or even the awkward meeting of lips from seconds before, it was something altogether different.

It was everything you’d hoped kissing him might be like, all that intensity and focus suddenly on you. Feeling the purpose and certainty he seemed to embody with each brush over your mouth. Soft but firm, patient but purposeful. When you didn’t freeze or pull away he took it as the permission it was to coax the kiss further, deepening it the longer you stayed, fingers gripping his shoulders until the first touch of his tongue along the seam of your lips had you dissolve and melt into his arms, your hands moving to tangle in his hair as his hands moved, one low on your back pulling your hips flush with his and the other cupping your jaw, guiding you as he made you forget every last promise you’d made never to let him break your heart as he had so many others.

Time held no meaning while he kissed you, all the you knew was the way he made you feel like you were the only thing he could see, like the world meant less than nothing while he held you. This, this was why you’d never let him know how you felt, because you knew one real kiss would ruin you forever. But it had ceased to matter as the kiss grew more heated, as hands wandered and your head spun with a thousand possibilities. When you both finally drew back, drawing in breathless gulps of air, you knew he’d see it in your eyes, you couldn’t hide it, the truth plain for him to see. You tried to pull away, to avoid meeting his eyes, but he gripped your chin tightly and made you look at him.

“Princess, don’t hide from me.”

You forced a nonchalant smile and met his eyes, preparing yourself for pity or rejection or something, you’re not sure which.

Instead, steady blue eyes meet yours seriously, his gaze pinning you in place.

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

You cringed at the words, pushing your hands flat against his chest, trying to escape the horrifying embarrassment, but he held you fast.

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry? What the fuck are you sorry for? Princess, I’m a grade A asshole. I’ve put you through the wringer for the last year, let you hold me up when I was drowning and completely missed the fact that I was falling in love with you.”

“What?” you questioned him, incredulous, as he began to grin.

“I’m in love with you.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy in love with you.”

“Utterly mad.”

“Mad about you sweetheart.”

You were caught somewhere between disbelief and hysteria, he wasn’t serious, he couldn’t be, he was making fun of you.

“Don’t.” Your tone was sharp with a hint of anger.

“I’m serious.”

The weight of this declaration felt heavier and truer than the teasing confession of love. Your heart skipped a beat and began to race.

“Your serious.” It wasn’t a question. You bit your lip, allowing the hope and vulnerability to finally shine through.

“Completely.”

You relaxed, letting him pull you back into him.

“Give me a chance to show you.” His voice held a softness as he pleaded into your hair, kissing the top of your head as you nodded.

“Okay.”

And you did.

@the-ss-horniest-book-club

@loricameback @eurynome827 @lookwhatyoumademequeue @southerncross47 @spacemansam @jobean12-blog @marvelous-meggi

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x you #fluff #drunk drabble #the hbc drunk drabbles #my fic

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bamon4bamily · 5 years

Text

TVD 9x05 Halloween Special (part 1 of part 2) Enjoy! =)

Cut back to – 1921, Halloween Ball at the secluded hotel. Stefan, Klaus, and Rebecca are having drinks at a private booth.

STEFAN: Well this is quite the party, loving the decadence.

KLAUS: Oh, my friend, the fun hasn’t even begun.

REBECCA: (To Stefan) It seems like your plus one found something or someone to entertain him, he’s been gone for a while.

STEFAN: He’s a curious guy, he’ll be back eventually.

KLAUS: Remind me again why you brought him along? Or why we haven’t torn into his vanes?

STEFAN: He is off the table, so lose the temptation.

REBECCA: Why do you even care?

STEFAN: He’s a close friend, let’s just leave it at that. Anyway, what are we having for dinner?

KLAUS: Trust me, you will find it to be plenty tasty (snaps his fingers, a woman walks into the booth and sits beside them).

STEFAN: You know my taste…

REBECCA: And mine. (They tare into her neck; when they finish they leave the dead body sitting there as if nothing had happened).

STEFAN: (As he is wiping the blood from his mouth) Lovely appetizer, but I’m ready for the main course.

KLAUS: Patience, mate, have another drink. Let’s get someone to clean our little mess, first.

STEFAN: Well, make it quick, I’m still hungry.

REBECCA: (Serves him more champagne) Don’t worry, love, I’ll go find someone to take care of this (kisses him, then leaves).

KLAUS: So, Stefan, are you sure it is safe to leave your “friend” to wonder about?

STEFAN: He can handle himself.

KLAUS: If you say so…

(A breathtaking woman comes into the booth, they both freak out given the scene).

LADY: Relax gentleman, nothing I haven’t seen before (winks, then casually sits next to the dead body and licks some blood from her neck). Yum… Care to offer this thirsty lady a drink? (Both, completely hypnotized by her beauty, head for the champagne bottle, Stefan gets to it first).

STEFAN: (As he pours her a drink) Can I just say you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. (Looks at her hands) Love the glove… looks beautiful, and dangerous (smirks)…

LADY: (Flirting) Just as I am, dear (winks).

KLAUS: If ever I have seen true beauty… (kisses her hand).

LADY: Thank you, gentleman, you are not bad on the eyes yourselves. Listen, I brought you a gift from the Mayor (hands them a black box), a small token of his appreciation for attending tonight. (As they are about to open it) Not yet, my dears, they must be opened at midnight; trust me, they are worth the wait. In the meantime (she snaps her fingers and two beautiful women come into the booth; she kisses them on the lips then cuts their throats with her glove, licks some of the blood and kisses Stefan and Klaus), enjoy, boys.

STEFAN: Wait, you are leaving? Please, stay, indulge with us.

LADY: I’d love to, but I have some business to attend to. I’ll be back for dessert, I promise. (When she walks out, Katherine, who has been lurking outside the booth, catches a glimpse of her, then vamps away).

Cut to Matt’s house. Tyler and Khuyana are having breakfast. On the background, playing on the TV is a breaking news story about a couple that has been found brutally murdered in a cabin outside Mystic Falls.

TYLER: So, he left early this morning?

KHUYANA: I think so… I’m not even sure if he came home at all. I went to bed alone and woke up alone.

TYLER: What do you think we should do?

KHUYANA: I know this might sound awful, but I think we should have a backup plan just in case he’s a no show.

TYLER: This is so strange, and totally out of character… we need to figure out what’s going on with him. When did it start?

KHUYANA: I guess I started noticing some strange behavior when I came back from a trip… after the massive aneurysms’ attacks.

TYLER: Bonnie told me about that, it happened before the Darius linking ritual, right?

KHUYANA: Yes.

TYLER: So this must be related to Darius… maybe his under some sort of spell?

KHUYANA: Can’t be that, Bonnie put a spell block on all of us after the linking incident.

TYLER: There is a spell against being spelled?

KHUYANA: I guess so, I still don’t understand how the witchy woo stuff works…

TYLER: Okay, well, Darius is also psychic, so, mind control?

KHUYANA: Can’t be that either, Bonnie psych-blocked us against that too.

TYLER: Doesn’t make sense… if he’s not under a spell or mind control… (Matt walks in).

MATT: Wow, you just won’t let it go… mind control, really? I told you guys, I’m fine, just exhausted, irritated, and under a lot of stress. All I need is some sleep to recharge, then I’ll be good to go.

TYLER: Are you sure, man?

MATT: I’m sure. I’m gonna go take a nap (kisses Khuyana; as he is walking out, turns around) and please, stop talking about me behind my back, it’s annoying (leaves).

Cut to – Mikaelson mansion, Klaus and Danae in the living room.

KLAUS: I still think you should have told them…

DANAE: What for? Sometimes it’s better not to know.

KLAUS: Well, that is true… Are sure you are up for this? Your migraines seem to be getting worse, love.

DANAE: I’ll be fine… it’s probably because subconsciously I’m nervous about being so close to my brother.

KLAUS: You have my word that you will be safe; under no circumstances will he find out you are alive.

DANAE: Thank you, dear, you are my knight in shining armor, always and forever. (Kisses him on the cheek). You know, if I didn’t have a thing for the ladies, I’d be madly in love you.

KLAUS: I know, love, as would I (winks, gives her a tender hug). Everything will be fine, I promise (kisses her forehead).

DANAE: What about Bonnie? Do you really think she will be able to keep control? Once her psychic-block is released, there is no doubt that she will be overwhelmed; and yes, I can help control her energy levels but there is no guarantee that it will be enough. One psychic blast and she can wipe us all out…

KLAUS: Bonnie is very strong-willed; I reckon she will find a way to keep it under control. To be honest, what worries me most is if she will be able to resist the temptation of not succumbing to her dark side.

DANAE: And if she does?

KLAUS: Well, if it comes to that, we’ll deal with it…

DANAE: As in, kill her? That seems a bit harsh, dear.

KLAUS: No, of course not, I mean contain her.

DANAE: With that kind of power, how on earth are we going to be able to do that?

KLAUS: Emotions always have a way to control us, and I’m pretty sure I know her weak spot; we make her connect with those feelings so she doesn’t lose her hold...

DANAE: Whatever happens, let’s hope it ends well… I really like her.

KLAUS: (Gives her a smirk) Oh, do you now?.

DANAE: Not like that, dear, I mean, if I knew I had a chance, don’t doubt for a second that I wouldn’t try… she is a spitting image of Marie… (becomes nostalgic).

KLAUS: I know...

DANAE: (Teary-eyed) No matter how many years go by, the hurt just doesn’t seem to go away (Klaus holds her tight).

KLAUS: It’s understandable, she was the love of your life. What happened to her was tragic, of course, the pain lingers, but eventually, you will find your way back to each other.

DANAE: Dear, I am immortal, how is that ever going to happen?

KLAUS: Never give up hope, love. After all, who would have thought there would be a way for the dead to make their way back? Look at Stefan, Tyler, Lexi, Katherine…

DANAE: They all had a connection to Bonnie, that’s the only reason they were able to come back.

KLAUS: I hardly think Bonnie wanted Katherine to return.

DANAE: It might have been a bad connection, but it was still a connection…

KLAUS: Well, there is no stronger connection than blood...

DANAE: Yes, but Bonnie never knew Marie, probably doesn't even know she existed ... Anyway, let me stop with the self-pity, we have more important things to focus on right now. Listen, how about I start preparing everything for the “party” while you go get us some costumes, otherwise your friend Caroline is going to flip.

KLAUS: Oh, she most definitely will. Any special requests?

DANAE: You’ll be lucky just to find any so we really can’t get picky; whatever you can find will work.

KLAUS: Okay, love, let me know if you need anything else, I’ll be back soon. (Kisses her forehead, then leaves).

Danae starts reminiscing about her past love. Flashback scene to a 1920′s party…

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MR. NORTHCOTT: Ms. Bennet, I must say, I find your views on Baudelaire’s work rather controversial, and, if I’m being honest, somewhat unstudied.

MARIE: Well, he was way ahead of his time which is clearly, not your case...

DANAE: Marie is quite the literary scholar; you can trust she knows what she is talking about, Mr. Northcott.

MR. NORTHCOTT: I mean no disrespect, but you must admit that it is not often that you find a woman with such views… it is somewhat intriguing.

MARIE: Really? (Rolls her eyes).

MR. NORTHCOTT: Please, don’t misunderstand me, if anything I respect you even more. But, enough with controversy, let us have a toast... to literary masterpieces!

DANAE: (Whispers to Marie) Want to disappear for a while? This man is really getting on my nerves.

MARIE: (Whispers back) I’ve been waiting for you to say that all night… (they excuse themselves from the table and find a cosy spot to share some lovin’).

Cut to – Elena and Sam in his apartment, he hands her a plate of chilaquiles.

ELENA: You spoil me too much... (Gives him a lustful look) Come here... (kisses him).

SAM: Mmm... or we can just skip breakfast...

ELENA: (Composes herself) No, no, we need to eat at some point ... Wait, am I going to have to jug a gallon of water like the last time?

SAM: You are such a wus! Don’t worry, I turned it down a notch.

ELENA: I mean, I loved them, but I seriously thought my brain was going to explode.

SAM: We are going to have to do something about that… when we go visit my mom, she won’t be as a lenient as I am.

ELENA: Great, now I have another thing to worry about when I meet her.

SAM: She is going to love you (kisses her). (Looks at his packed boxes) So, I’m pretty much ready… we are actually doing this…

ELENA: We are! And I’m excited about you meeting the rest of the gang tonight, even if it’s just for a brief hello, goodbye.

SAM: Is this the first time you are going to see Stefan and Tyler since they… well, came back?

ELENA: Yes… wow, I hadn’t even thought of that!

SAM: I’ll be honest, I’m kind of psyched about meeting more of your supernatural friends, it’s like going to Comicon but for real!

ELENA: (Laughs) I have no idea what a Comicon is, but I guess so?

SAM: Okay, just so I don’t mess things up, let me see if I got this right: Bonnie is a psychic-witch; Caroline, a vampire; Tyler, an undead hybrid; Stefan, an ex-vampire undead human; your ex, a vampire turned human; Alaric, a vampire hunter turned vampire then human again, Indiana Jones type of thing; Matt, a human, and the town Sheriff… am I missing anyone?

ELENA: Nop, that’s pretty much the main core. God, hearing you makes me realize just how insane my life has been… I love them all but I have to admit that I’m happy to be leaving that craziness behind… I just want a normal, human life, you know?

SAM: Well, normal and human is all I’ve ever known, so I’m no point of reference… what about Jeremy, is he going to the party too?

ELENA: No, no…

SAM: Aren’t you going to say goodbye?

ELENA: We are, just not in person… I’m afraid that if I see him, I won’t be able to leave, so, we decided video chat was the way to go…

SAM: Are you sure?

ELENA: Trust me, I’m sure.

SAM: Okay… So, I went to pick up our costumes earlier (looking very excited), I can’t believe you agreed to go with it!

ELENA: Couldn’t bear to break your geeky heart (kisses him, looks at her watch). Listen, I need to go to the administration office to finalize some paperwork, we’ll start getting ready when I come back. Love you (kisses him, then leaves).

Cut to – 1990, Halloween night, Mystic Falls General Hospital. Paramedics bring a bleeding woman into the E.R.

E.R DOCTOR: What do we have?

PARAMEDIC: Multiple stab wounds to the back, massive blood loss, heart rate erratic, pulse dropping fast… and Doctor, she is pregnant. Fetal heartbeat detected but it’s very low.

E.R DOCTOR: (To the Medical staff) Quick, prep the O.R for emergency surgery. (After a few hours, the Doctor comes out of the OR to talk to Police Officers).

E.R DOCTOR: Officers, there was nothing we could do; time of death was 24:05. Were you able to contact any family members?

POLICE OFFICER 1: The only family member we could track was her mother, but she has no idea who she is. She has been locked up in an insane asylum for years… other than her, she has no family.

E.R DOCTOR: Well then, I think you need to call child services, the victim was with child. Thankfully, we were able to save the baby, but he is in critical condition.

POLICE OFFICER 2: How on earth was the child able to survive?

E.R DOCTOR: If I’m being honest Officer, I have no idea, the child should have been dead upon arrival. I don’t believe in miracles but if I ever did, this would be the moment to make me doubt my beliefs.

POLICE OFFICER 1: If the baby makes it through, child services will take custody. For now, Doctor, we will need your, and your staff’s statements.

E.R DOCTOR: Of course, anything you need Officers.

Cut to - the Mayor’s house. Edward walks into his room and finds his costume laid out for him, along with a black box tied to a red balloon. He looks puzzled, somewhat scared. He slowly takes the box, unties the balloon and opens it. Inside, is the same chess piece he had sent Darius earlier, along with a note that reads: “Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear. Who is checkmate now?” He leaves the box and note on the bed, walks to his turntable and plays “Mr. Sandman”. Then, walks to the mirror, and stares in a daze…

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TVD 9x05 Halloween Special (part 2 of part 2) coming very soon! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

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jeonggukingdom · 7 years

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Please please please jungkook + 16 also ur writing is so gooddd 💖

[ ˌdɛsɪˈdɪərɪəm ]

noun; a powerful desire or yearning.

Prompt: “We’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still so horny?”Pairing: Jeongguk x ReaderGenre: Smut, Fluff, newlyweds!AUCount: 4.175 words

warnings: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, oral sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial, overstimulation.

The warm sunlight hits your skin through the hatched curtains and you stir amongst tangled sheets and interlaced limbs; a sigh of contentment escaping your mouth.

With half-closed eyes, you look around the room and find the smile of your lover to welcome you, his doe eyes studying your every move.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he hums in that dulcet tone that makes your insides melt and your heart beat fast between your lungs.

“What time is it?” Your voice is low and hoarse - a great reminder of the hours spent moaning his name in delighted pleasure the foregoing night.

“I have no idea.” He laughs and brings his arm around your waist, inching you closer until he can meet your mouth and savor the taste that is so inexplicably yours and yours only.

You hum as your arms find their way around his neck and you realize that time has lost its meaning again, in the quick passing of a few seconds. Who cares if it’s morning or still night or even if two entire days have passed when you’re engulfed inside his arms, your naked bodies mingled together so that you’re not sure anymore where you end and he begins?

He brushes his nose against your own, mouths parting as he takes in air, his eyes open to indulge on every tiny inch of your features.

A smile spreads on your lips, the warmness in your stomach expanding to your heart as he regards you in nothing but utter bliss - one that reflects your own — but it is soon erased by the growing feeling of his cock pressing between your thighs.

“Oh my God,” you push his arms away so you can get a better view of his face, incredulity overcoming you, “We’ve been at it like rabbits. How are you still so horny?”

“What can I say,” a smirk twists his features, one eyebrow cocked upwards in something akin to mockery, “My beautiful wife is laying naked next to me and that is bound to make me horny again.”

Cherry blossoms gather in your cheeks, expanding to your ears as the very fresh word easily rolls off of his mouth. It has been something short of a week since the moment you exchanged your vows and promises — wedding rings shining around your fingers.

“Say that again,” you demand, in a whisper that says a lot about the giddiness and happiness that inhabit your hearth.

“You make me horny?” He offers in response, a little giggle following his words as the eternal tease that he is.

“The other part,” you roll your eyes to the ceiling, a smile still escaping your control as you feign outrage.

“My beautiful wife,” he whispers upon your lips, his eyes shining with nothing but love and you swiftly comply with his request, parting your mouth to welcome his tongue. The kiss is slow and deep, the caresses of his tongue intoxicating as they stir pleasure in between your legs to match up with his very own need.

His lips leave your mouth ever so slowly — eyelids closed as he hums in contentment — his breath brushing against your skin in rapid intakes of much-needed air.

“I need a shower,” you sigh, relaxing your tired limbs on the mattress, “I’m starting to feel really gross and sticky.”

Truth be told, you have not left your suite since you first took a step in it four days ago and, all reserves about visiting the big city and taking silly pictures together have long vanished, suppressed by the need of claiming each other over and over again.

He chuckles against your ear, his chest vibrating against your own as he hugs you even closer, keeping you trapped in a cage you don’t even want to escape from.

“That can be arranged,” he concedes, a knowing smile on his lips and a hint of playfulness in his onyx eyes.

A shrill escapes your mouth as you’re suddenly lifted into the air, his strong arms throwing you on his shoulder as he laughs whilst running through the corridor that separates your hotel bedroom from the bathroom.

“What are you doing?!”

Despite the outrage in your voice, you can’t suppress the fit of laughter that comes with his antics and the effortless way he has lifted you in the air as you were made out of paper.

“I can walk on my own, you know?”

Your feet touch the ground and you almost lose your balance at the sudden contact with the wooden floor, your legs wobbly from all the consuming, yet breathtaking, sex.

“Sure you can, love?” He mocks you, eyebrows cocked upwards and a knowing smile on his lips.

“Aren’t we quite sure of our skills?” You muse in response, surpassing him with a swift movement of your hips, sure his eyes will be fixed on your butt in the span of a few seconds.

“Well, your screams last night were quite the giver, you know?”

A slap falls on your left cheek and you jump in both surprise and pleasure as a laugh escapes your mouth.

“Think you can replicate?” You raise your eyebrow, a teasing smile on your lips as you watch his expression change out of the corner of your eyes.

“You have no idea what I have in store for you,” the warmness of his breath hits your ear and you visibly shiver in utter anticipation, pleasure coiling up in your core as your mind fills with vivid images of your numerous rendezvous between the sheets.

The sound of pouring water is what fills the silence next, the glass on the wall slowly fogging as the warmness of the hot water spreads through the room. As much as you’re on edge, waiting for his hands to touch you again, you can’t escape the sense of relaxation and contentment that fills your body the moment it is hit by the water.

You close your eyes — your head resting under the shower head to get all the grogginess sleep has left you with washed away.

His hands are on you almost immediately but not quite as you wanted them to. His moves are delicate, feather-like, as he spreads the strawberry scented soap on your naked body. His eyes are focused on your skin and the way he’s careful not to miss a single inch with both his gaze and his touch almost makes you blush.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers, eyes flicking to your own for the briefest of moments before focusing back on his task. Your words get tangled and lost in your throat, the emotions swirling in your stomach so diverse you can’t even discern them yourself.

Jeongguk hums when he has successfully covered your body in little bubbles, satisfaction painted on his features.

“Would you like to do the same to me?”

He doesn’t have to repeat his words twice and you promptly take the bottle from his hands, pouring a generous amount on your palms. Your caresses mimic his own — delicate and slow, careful to cover completely his sun-kissed skin.

Your fingers linger on his neck and on the love bites you bruised his skin with. He cocks his head to the side, allowing you greater access to his favorite spot.

Your mouth attacks the soft skin under his ear — the temptation irresistible since he handed it to you on a silver platter — and he sighs in complacency, his eyes closing immediately as you suck on the tender spot.

Your hands start roaming around his body anew, slowly descending to his firm abdomen, and, furthermore, to his fully erected sex. He whines as you encircle him completely with your hand, giving him a teasing pump. His bottom lip trapped under his teeth and eyes hooded with utter pleasure make your legs close tight together in the desperate attempt to give yourself some friction.

Yet, you do not indulge in the exiguity of relief you undoubtedly need, and fall on your knees — the task of getting him completely cleaned off of sweat and your previous orgasms seemingly far more important right now.

His lips attack your own as soon as you’re back on your feet, admiring your work of art, and you moan softly into the kiss as his tongue encircles your own, flicking your palate as he claims you with the need of a starving man.

Your back hits the cool surface of the wall and he bites your jaw jocularly, grabbing the shower head to rinse off the soap from both of your bodies.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask in a whisper as the water sploshes between your bodies, “Some shower sex?”

“I want to try something,” he whispers in your ear, biting your lobe, “Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

He kisses your lips anew, his free hand caressing your hip, slowly descending to your needy core. His palm falls flat against your sex, his index finger teasing your entrance, seeking the sign of your pleasure between the wetness of the water.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.”

His forehead touches yours for a brief moment before he’s putting distance amidst your bodies — enough to fit the shower head between your sexes.

The water hits your core by surprise, making you jump at the sudden bestowal of friction.

“Have you ever tried this?” He asks, his eyes fixed on your core to make sure not a single drop of water is missing the target.

“N-no,” you whimper, the pressure on your clitoris making your eyes roll back and your head hit the wall.

His free hand grabs your hip firmly, fixing you on the spot as he adjusts the shower head on the pulsating mode.

“Oh God,” you sigh as the pleasure starts building up in your stomach, your bottom lip trapped by the tight grasp of your teeth as you try to gulp down a whimper.

“Does it feel good, baby?” His grip on your hip gets tighter and you can sense the delectation in his voice as he watches you slowly unravel before him.

“Mhm, yes.” You moan, your breath caught in your lungs as a wave of pleasure hits you.

“God, you look breathtaking like this.” He whispers to himself, eyes traveling on your wet, trembling body, “I want to taste you.”

“Please,” you whimper helplessly, the thought of his mouth between your legs almost sending you off the edge.

“Keep this in place,” he orders, handing you the shower head so you can keep stimulating your clitoris whilst he pleasures your very core.

He falls on his knees, hands grabbing your ass as he dives right into your labia.

His tongue is flat against your mound, tasting the fine mixture of your pleasure and the strawberry aftertaste of the soap; water splashing on his head as you keep your grip firm on the shower head.

He laps at your core, teasing your entrance with kitten-like licks before fully invading your pussy with his tongue. He curls his muscle on your walls and, biting down on your lips, you muffle a moan. His licks are tortuously slow as he savors all you have to offer and it makes you beg for more over and over again until he is willing to give it to you.

He sucks down your mound, hollowing his cheeks until your walls contract around his tongue and a scream escapes your mouth.

“Jeongguk,” you whimper out his name and that gives him enough motive to increase the speed of his lapping, the fierceness of his tongue bringing you to the edge in a matter of seconds. His fingers crawl on your ass, the ferocity of his mouth on your core increasing with all the little whimpers and moans you offer him in return.

Your body starts to quiver and he’s quick to catch on it, sucking hard on your clit until your vision turns white and the pleasure spreads from your abdomen to everything else, turning the world into a heaven full of pearly-white clouds.

Before you can catch up your breath, he has you pinned against the wall, his mouth ravishing you whole as you get intoxicated with the mixture of his taste and the one of your juices still on his tongue.

“Told you I was going to make you feel good,” his lips brush against your own as he says so, his tongue sticking out to lick the trail of saliva his kiss has left while a grin of satisfaction spreads on his rousing mouth.

“Let me return the favor,” you whisper, your voice sultry and alluring as you switch your positions, pushing his back flat against the cooling surface of the mosaic wall.

Your lips find their way to his neck again, sucking on the delicate skin whilst making sure to scoop up every single droplet of water.

Your hands caress his hips in slow circular moves that leave a trail of goosebumps on his skin of golden.

You slowly drop to your knees, your lips kissing your way down as you do so, teasing every inch you can reach until he’s rocking his hips forward in a desperate attempt to find some alleviation for his desperate needs.

His cock is in full erection, his head a bright red color that is only an inkling of how much he has been craving your touch all this time.

Your hand grips his cock lightly, offering a small pump that is welcomed with a sigh of relief. A wicked smile spreads on your lips as you travel southern, your aim clear in your mind. You offer him a kitten-like lick at his scrotum before sucking hard on his balls successfully making him whimper.

Your gaze lifts up to his face and you’re met with an expression of pure abandonment. His head is resting against the wall, his hair flat against his forehead, half-covering his hooded eyes that are undoubtedly fixed on you, watching your every move.

Without breaking the eye contact you lick him further, reaching your designated area: the perineum.

Your fingers brush lightly against the thin portion of skin making him jump on his feet as electricity seems to run through his body. Your movements are precise yet delicate, teasing both his testicles and his entrance, making sure to build up his pleasure to the maximum. It’s only when you can see pre-cum leaking from his head that you stop your movements and focus your entire attention on his neglected cock.

You open your mouth and slowly inch closer, gaining a whine from him as he can feel your breath right on his skin but not quite close enough to bring him pleasure.

“Stop teasing, baby, please.”

The urgent words fall from his mouth and your lips close around his head, sucking dearly on it to finally give him exactly what he needs.

Your tongue is flat in your mouth, your teeth grazing ever so slightly along his skin as you slowly take him fully into your mouth. His breath gets caught in his lungs and you can see his abdomen tense as you deep throat him almost effortlessly. His pubic hair brushes your nose and you gulp down, humming against him, sure that the vibrations will hit him with a wave of pleasure.

“Shit, baby.”

You open your mouth wider, allowing your tongue to encircle him and to spread your saliva all over his shaft. Your lips close around his head and you give another hard suck on it, your tongue inching upwards to meet is frenulum and get rewarded with a deep, long, moan.

With a wicked smile, you inch back forward until he’s fully inside your mouth and you start to bob your head slowly, allowing him to savor you completely before you drive him into utter madness.

His hands reach down into your hair and grab a fistful of the wet strands that cover your face, giving him a free view of your expression as you suck him off.

His fingers curl on your scalp almost painfully, guiding you down on his cock to meet a pace he designed for you. You relax your mouth, letting him fuck you as he pleases, fighting against your gag reflex.

One of his hands leaves your hair to brush up his own as a pleasure-filled moan escapes his mouth again. It is nothing short of rousing to hear all the little sounds he emits, knowing that you are the one provoking every single one of them.

Your hands reach up to his iliac crests to grab the soft skin and keep him steady as you regain your control over him — your head bobbing with a furious pace that is bound to make him fall to his knees in a span of a few seconds.

“Fuck, baby, stop.” His breathing is ragged and you can hear every single intake of air he’s forced to take as he fights against himself and his desperate need of release, “I want to cum inside of you.” His words make your legs close together, the little friction not even enough to satiate the hunger he has put there with those seven little words.

You hollow your cheeks around him, sucking hard until you see his abdomen contract. He stops breathing, eyes closed and mouth agape in a silent gasp as he’s about to get lost in his orgasm. And it’s only then that you stop, retreating with a lewd pop of your mouth.

His frustrated whine pulls you out of your daze and you look up at him, taking in the little tear that is running down his cheek at the cruel orgasm denial.

“I’m going to make you scream so loud the whole floor will know my name.”

He hurriedly lifts you up, pushing you against the shower’s glass door. Your arms promptly stretch forward to balance yourself as he lifts one of your legs up to hook it around his hips.

His fingers play languidly at your entrance, making sure you’re more than ready to receive him. His index finger slides right into you with ease — making him hum in satisfaction — and curls almost instantly, inducing your walls to contract around it. Slowly, another finger finds its way between your legs, caressing your insides with calculated languidness.

“Such a good girl,” his tongue brushes your ear, the compliment rolling off of his mouth setting you completely on fire.

“Fuck me, please.”

He growls on your neck, his third finger penetrating you to curl inside of you, scissoring you right after as he seeks that most pleasurable spot so he can hit it endlessly once he can claim every little recess of your core.

The little whines that escape your mouth seem to drive him absolutely over the edge for he doesn’t spare you another second before he’s pushing himself inside of you, one inch at a time.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, your eyes closing as you adjust to the brand new feeling of complete fullness. You stretch around him, contracting your walls around his hard cock, making him whimper in return as he has to fight the need to just fuck you into oblivion.

“Yes,” you coax him in a whisper, hands turning into fists as he leisurely moves his hips against you, “Give me all of you.”

He bites down your neck as he slams into you roughly, pushing himself balls-deep inside of you and you mewl in return, pushing your hips down to meet his in utter need.

His hips set a torturous pace inside of you, hitting your walls in waves that steal your breath away and leave you begging for more.

“Faster, baby,” you whimper helplessly, head falling forward as you push yourself down on him, seeking the roughness you know he’s capable of and that you wholeheartedly desire.

His hand on your hip gets tighter, grasping the skin with his nails, surely leaving a possessive mark there for the hours to come, and slams right into you again. You sigh in contentment as he starts picking up pace.

The sound of skin against skin quickly drowns out the sound of the splashing water behind your bodies, setting your entire being ablaze. You can feel his balls hitting your butt cheeks as he pushes himself deeper until he’s filling you up to the brim with every single stroke.

Your lifted leg falls back on the ground as he pushes you forward, making your hip inch upwards and your head sinks lower, granting him even more access to your mound.

The newfound position allows him to push deeper inside of you and as he finds your perfect spot your toe fingers curl and your eyes close as a strangled moan escapes your mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, his hands grasping your hips to guide them towards him to meet his furious pace, “You’re so fucking tight.”

One of his hand reaches your hair and grabs them tightly, pushing your head backwards so he can take a look at your features morphed into pure bliss.

His pace slows down, his hips moving into you as calm waves whilst he inhales deeply, trying to prolong the way to his own orgasm. You whimper at the sudden loss of friction and you’re rewarded with a deep thrust right onto your pleasure spot. He claims that as his target and hits it with exquisite precision with each languid thrust.

“I need to cum,” your trembling voice fills the cubicle as a new wave of pleasure hurls through your body, coaxing him to restore his previous pace.

Each deep stroke of his cock is a delightful stretch inside of you, nearing you to your release.

His hips move frantically against your own, each stroke pushing you a tad bit forward as he beats down your already abused pussy.

He pants loudly behind your back, his throat strangling the sound of his deep moan and he cums inside of you, milking his way into the orgasm trying to prolong the feeling of his pleasure and to drive you towards your own.

You can hear him whimper at the overwhelming feeling of his cum all around him — the sound of it being thrust into you lewd even to your own ears — and the over-stimulation pressing him to halt his movements.

You yelp in surprise as warm water unexpectedly hits your clitoris, the shower head shoved between your legs once again as he urges you to cum.

“Cum for me, baby.”

He grunts, his grip on your hair tightening so he can keep you steady and witness the moment your features will be morphed into pure bliss.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The words spill out of your mouth as a mantra whilst the pleasure coils to your stomach, ready to explode.

His hips slam into you harder, your arms trembling as you try to keep yourself standing against the glass door and, losing your breath in a loud scream of his name, you cum.

Your legs give out and you almost fall to the floor as he promptly grabs your hips, pulling you closer to his heaving chest.

“That was the best sex we ever had,” he whispers, his breathing still shallow as he comes down from the exhilarating feeling of the orgasm.

“Mhm, shower sex is underrated.”

He chuckles, kissing your temple as he keeps you right between his arms, so tight to his chest you can feel the drumming of his heart.

He grabs your hand into his and brings it to his mouth to sweetly kiss each finger, giving more attention to your ring-finger and the golden wedding ring sported there.

“We should get out of here, your hands are shrinking like dried prunes.”

“Wow, you’re so romantic!” You lift your gaze up to the ceiling and he chuckles at your antics.

“Only the best for the love of my life.”

His lips are soft as they kiss your own, the passion long gone now that the hunger in you has been satiated, leaving its place to nothing but utter endearment.

“I love you too, handsome.”

He steals your breath away with another kiss before lifting you up on his shoulder, your shriek covered by his maniacal laugh as he rushes through the corridor in the direction of the bedroom. A place, you fear, you won’t be leaving for the remaining days of your honeymoon.

#noonanet #KWritersKollection #BangtanWriters-Net #Bangtan Bookclub #gguknet #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jeongguk x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #drabble game

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