#I can’t be certain that it will lead anywhere | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunnami · 2 months

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❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm.

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers.

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell.

Not again!

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside.

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due.

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident, Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors.

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.)

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head. You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction.

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams.

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.)

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else.

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes.

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.)

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier.

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.)

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones.

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback.

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling.

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did.

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again.

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing.

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else.

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion.

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.)

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate?

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus.

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel.

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?”

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace.

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could.

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap.

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh.

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it.

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two.

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity.

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers.

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate.

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear.

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you.

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask.

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?)

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background?

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you.

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall.

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .”

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”

Lily stays silent.

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face?

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company.

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words.

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!”

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback.

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.”

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp.

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave.

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof.

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall?

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that.

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek.

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve.

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes.

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.”

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.”

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.”

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.”

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?”

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.”

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp.

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?)

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well.

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head.

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun.

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.)

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger.

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done.

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest.

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old.

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.)

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about.

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.)

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned.

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.)

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold.

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby.

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands.

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.)

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth.

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work.

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”)

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.)

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done.

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?”

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?)

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.”

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.”

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.”

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.”

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace.

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.”

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?”

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.”

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug.

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red.

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .”

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.”

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second.

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave.

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes.

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes.

You freeze in fear.

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels.

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.”

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.”

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?”

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.”

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back.

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?”

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?”

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?”

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly.

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.”

And so, you choose them.

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor.

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.”

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper.

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same.

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more.

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

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pucksandpower · 5 months

Text

Hands On

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: celebrations after Lando’s first win get a bit hands on after he notices your obsession with a certain body part

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request

The pounding bass rumbles through the Miami club as Lando pulls you close, his arm snaked around your waist. The dim lights cast his face in chiseled shadows as he lets out a whoop of joy.

“We did it!” He yells over the music, eyes bright with elation. “My first bloody win!”

You beam up at him, heart swelling with pride. “I knew you could do it.” Standing on your tiptoes, you plant a lingering kiss on his lips, tasting the tang of celebratory champagne.

Lando grins against your mouth before reluctantly pulling back. “Let’s get a drink to toast, yeah?”

Nodding vigorously, you allow him to lead you through the crowd to the bar. Lando orders some lurid cocktails that probably cost more than an average person’s weekly grocery budget. You don’t care — tonight is for indulging.

As he hands you a glass, his calloused fingers brush yours, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You quickly look away, hoping he didn’t notice. But of course he did.

“Alright there, love?” Lando asks with an amused quirk of his brow.

You force a laugh. “Just, uh … got a chill, that’s all.”

“Mmhmm.” He gives you a look that says he’s not buying it, but allows the subject to drop for now.

The two of you migrate to a plush VIP area, sinking into the soft leather couches. Lando slings an arm around your shoulders and you snuggle into his side, basking in his warmth and earthy scent.

God, you’re so proud of him.

“To us,” Lando murmurs, clinking his glass against yours. “And many more race wins to come.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You take a sip of the violently purple concoction. It tastes like alcoholic cough syrup but you don’t care.

As the alcohol works its magic, you feel yourself relaxing further into Lando’s embrace. Your eyes trace the strong line of his jaw, the delicious smattering of faint freckles, those gloriously long lashes ...

Your gaze catches on his free hand resting on the arm of the couch. You find yourself fixating on those slender fingers, the calluses from years of clutching the steering wheel ...

“Y/N?”

You start, blinking rapidly as Lando’s voice pulls you from your trance. “Huh? Sorry, what?”

“You’re staring again.” His lips quirk in that devilishly handsome half-smile.

Flushing hotly, you look anywhere but at him. Or more specifically, his hands. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you absolutely are.” Lando chuckles, low and teasing. “Go on then, what’s so fascinating?”

You squirm uncomfortably, feeling your face heat up even more. How to put this delicately ...

Apparently catching onto your distraction, Lando sits up straighter, settling his drink on the table with a muffled thunk. “Actually, don’t bother answering that. I think I know.”

Before you can protest, he reaches out to gently grasp your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb strokes your flushed cheek as those clever eyes bore into yours, equal parts amused and intense.

“It’s my hands, isn’t it?” Lando murmurs, voice dropping to a low rumble that has your heart tripping in your chest. “You can’t stop staring at my hands.”

You open your mouth to deny it, but Lando’s penetrating stare has you frozen, the words sticking in your throat. Slowly, you give a tiny nod.

Lando hums in acknowledgement, the pad of his thumb still caressing your skin in a maddeningly distracting way. “They are rather nice hands, to be fair. Years of keeping a firm grip, you know?” He winks at you roguishly.

You make a small, strangled sound in the back of your throat. Goddamn him and his innuendos.

“Would you ...” Lando pauses for dramatic effect, gaze dropping to your parted lips briefly. “Like a closer look?”

Every rational neuron in your brain screams at you to say no, this is too far, you’re in public, oh god. But your desire-muddled mind doesn’t seem to be receiving those signals. Instead, you give another mute nod, feeling yourself leaning the slightest bit closer.

“Yeah?” Lando’s voice is barely more than a gravelly rumble now. “You want my hands on you, don’t you?”

You make a tiny whimpering sound of assent, mouth suddenly bone dry. Your eyes drop of their own accord to those wicked fingers, still cupping your jaw so tenderly.

Lando lets out a quiet chuckle, deliciously sinful. “How bad do you want it, baby?”

Squeezing your thighs together self-consciously, you manage a strangled, “S-So bad ...”

“Good girl.” The praise has you melting into a puddle right there on the couch.

Then, in one torturously slow movement, Lando lowers his hand from your face … trails his knuckles down the column of your neck … over the swell of your chest … all the way to the hem of your skimpy dress. He hooks a finger under the silky material, drawing it up your bare thigh with agonizing leisure.

You inhale a sharp breath at the sensation of his rough skin on your flushed flesh. Your eyelids flutter shut, every nerve ending thrumming with exquisite tension.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back open at Lando’s commanding tone. He gazes back, brows raised in silent challenge. You force yourself to hold his searing gaze as his hand maps lazy circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Good girl,” he praises again, the words liquid sin. “Nice and relaxed for me.”

Despite the burning awareness of being in a public place, you feel yourself subconsciously parting your thighs ever-so-slightly, allowing those talented fingers higher access. Heat pools between your legs, your rapid pulse thrumming double-time.

“God, you’re so wet for me already,” Lando husks in approval. “I fucking love how worked up my hands get you.”

As those dexterous digits tease feather-light strokes over your quickly dampening underwear, you have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to stifle a whimper of shameless need. Every touch from him sets your body alight with feverish want.

“Shhh, inside voice, darling,” he chides quietly, humor dancing in those multicolored eyes. “Don’t want to cause a scene, do we?”

You rapidly shake your head, wholeheartedly agreeing. The last thing you need is for someone to wander over here and catch you being debauched by your boyfriend in a public place.

The thought should probably mortify you more than it does.

Lando gives you a crooked grin, like he can read your deliciously filthy thoughts. “Good girl,” he praises again, rewarding you with another teasing caress between your legs.

You suck in a shuddering breath, spine arching ever-so-slightly as Lando’s sinful fingers work their magic through the damp fabric. He knows every spot that drives you crazy, rubbing and stroking with perfect pressure until your inner muscles quiver with delirious need.

“You’re dripping for me, love,” he murmurs in a thick rumble. “Been thinking about my hands on you all night, haven’t you?”

No use denying it anymore — not with the embarrassingly loud squelches coming from between your shamelessly parted thighs. You give another frantic nod.

Lando makes a tutting sound. “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes,” you force out in a ragged whisper. Already, your breaths are coming faster, the molten coil in your core winding tighter and tighter with every deft stroke. “God, Lando, please ...”

“Since you asked so nicely ...” With those words, he slips one long finger under the sodden lace, finally making direct skin-to-skin contact with your aching heat.

You choke back a moan as he delves into your dripping folds, crooking his finger to find that spot that makes you see stars. Alternating between tight circles and firm strokes, Lando works that magic digit at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hips lift shamelessly into his touch, desperate for more friction.

“So greedy,” he chides with a dark chuckle. But he acquiesces, slipping in a second finger to join the first.

You have to clamp your lips shut to muffle the broken keen that tries to escape. The stretch and burn as he scissors you open is pure bliss. Your inner walls flutter greedily around the delicious intrusion.

“Like that, baby?” Lando’s hot breath ghosts your cheek as he leans in close. “You feel so fucking good stretched around my fingers.”

You nod frantically, nails digging into the buttery leather as he starts pumping those wicked digits in a steady rhythm. Each slick thrust has your whole body tensing and the knot in your core winding ever tighter.

“You take me so well,” he praises in a hoarse rasp. “Always so tight and perfect around my cock too. Can’t wait to be buried in that sweet little pussy later.”

A broken whine escapes you at the filthy promise. Your thighs are trembling now, pleasure spiking through your veins with every curl and drag of those talented fingers. You’re quickly spiraling higher, that euphoric edge looming tantalizingly close ...

Lando’s free hand drifts up to toy with the strap of your dress, tugging it down to bare one straining nipple to the heated air of the club. He leans in to lave his tongue over the tender peak and you practically convulse in his lap. Too much, too good, you’re going to combust-

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your damp skin. “Let go.”

The low, commanding growl is your undoing. With a strangled cry, you shatter apart on his fingers, back arching as the pleasure crashes over you in relentless waves. It whites out your vision, every nerve ending set alight in blinding ecstasy.

You come back to reality cradled in Lando’s arms, his lips brushing reverent kisses over your damp hairline. As the pulses gradually subside, you slump bonelessly against his chest, thoroughly spent.

“That’s my good girl,” Lando murmurs, rich voice laced with smug satisfaction. He slowly retracts his drenched fingers with one final curl that has your body giving a languid shudder.

A blissed-out hum is all the response you can muster right now. Your eyelids are heavy, head swimming in that delicious post-orgasmic haze. Lando chuckles softly, tightening his embrace as he drops another kiss to your brow.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me yet, yeah? The night’s still young, love. Got plenty more celebrations planned for you ...”

***

The door to the lavish hotel suite bursts open with a bang as Lando practically shoves you through the entrance. You stumble slightly on your high heels, drunk on anticipation and champagne fumes. Before you can regain your balance, his strong hands are on you, spinning you around to pin your back against the nearest wall.

“Been wanting to get my hands on you all night,” Lando growls against the sensitive skin just below your ear.

You shiver at the rumbling timbre of his voice, already growing hazy with rekindled desire. “Y-You already did at the club ...”

He rewards your cheek with a teasing graze of teeth. “And you were such a good girl, taking my fingers so nicely in front of everyone.” His hips grind against yours, allowing you to feel every rigid inch of his arousal. “But now I want more. Need to be inside you properly.”

A broken whimper escapes your parted lips as Lando’s hands roam greedily over your body. You arch shamelessly into his possessive grip, craving his burning touch everywhere at once.

“Arms up,” he commands in a gravelly murmur.

You immediately comply, and he wastes no time in dragging your skimpy dress up over your head, leaving you in just a flimsy scrap of lace. His heated gaze rakes over every newly exposed inch of bare skin with undisguised hunger.

“God, look at you ...” Lando exhales a harsh curse through gritted teeth. “I swear you get more gorgeous every bloody day.”

Face flushing beneath his scorching appraisal, you resist the urge to cover yourself with your arms. You know he prefers an unobstructed view.

“Turn around,” he orders in a voice that brokers no argument. “Hands on the wall.”

You spin obediently, biting back a needy whimper as your breasts brush the cool surface. The room suddenly feels several degrees warmer from the blazing anticipation alone.

There’s a pause where you can practically sense Lando’s eyes devouring the lines and curves of your body. You fight the urge to squirm beneath his piercing scrutiny. Then his callused hands are on your hips, squeezing with delicious possessiveness as he steps in to blanket your back with his solid heat.

“Already so wet for me,” Lando observes in a rough purr, dragging your lace underwear aside to reveal your slick folds. “Seem to recall you liking a taste of your own medicine at the club, hmm?”

The tip of his index finger glides through your arousal in one torturously slow pass, gathering the evidence of your desire onto his skin. Before you can so much as draw a shaky breath, he brings that glistening digit to hover just in front of your parted lips.

“Open up, love.”

You moan softly in anticipation, obeying without hesitation. The instant his finger slides into your mouth, your eyes flutter shut in wanton bliss. Your tongue swirls around the thick digit, hungrily lapping up every last trace of your own tangy essence.

“That’s it, nice and sloppy,” Lando praises in a low, heated rumble. “Show me how much you love the way you taste on my fingers.”

Spurred on by his heated words, you begin sucking in earnest, hollowing your cheeks with shameless enthusiasm. The slick sounds of your efforts fill the air, the wet noises doing absolutely nothing to quell the rising tide of arousal between your legs.

Behind you, Lando exhales a harsh curse. “Fuck … so bloody good at that. Should’ve known you’d look perfect with my fingers in your greedy little mouth.”

A fresh gush of arousal floods your center at his filthy words of approval. You can’t help the desperate whine that vibrates around his digit as you increase your pace, desperate to drive him as crazy as he’s driving you.

“Alright, enough teasing now.” There’s the sound of a zipper rasping, then suddenly Lando’s other hand is shoving yours away from the wall and around to grasp his newly freed erection.

You moan again, shocked but overwhelmingly aroused by his boldness. He pumps his length slow and purposeful, engulfing your smaller hand with his larger one to set a languid but firm pace.

“Good girl, that’s it ...” he rasps out harshly. “Wanna feel how hard you’ve got me, baby? Aching to be inside your perfect cunt ...”

At his filthy words, your core pulses with a fresh rush of molten want. You can feel the fat head of his shaft nudging demandingly against the crease of your thigh, leaving smears of pearly fluid on your heated skin.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, Lando spins you back around to face him. His eyes are blazing with dark, predatory hunger as he swiftly sheds the rest of your flimsy underwear. Then he’s hauling you up by the backs of your thighs, pinning you against the wall with his hips nestled firmly against your aching core.

“Tell me what you want,” he rumbles in a tone of deliciously wicked authority. The thick head of his erection drags through your slick folds in one maddening tease after another.

You whine high in your throat, scrabbling at his broad shoulders for purchase. “P-Please, Lando! Need you inside me ...”

“Need me to what?” He tilts his hips in a slow, torturous grind, spreading your arousal in a slick glaze. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Fuckmefuckmefuckme ...” The desperate mantra spills shamelessly from your lips as you try to pull him closer.

Lando rewards your begging with a wolfish grin. “As you wish.”

And with one slick thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, stretching and filling you in the most exquisite way. Twin groans echo through the suite — his a guttural growl, yours a high-pitched mewl of relief.

There’s an endless moment where you both simply still, savoring the friction of being so intimately joined. Lando’s forehead drops to your shoulder, the pair of you panting harshly against one another’s sweat-slicked skin.

Then he starts to move.

It starts with a slow roll of his hips, languid but purposeful strokes that drag his length through every last velvet inch before pulling nearly all the way out. You clutch desperately at the carved muscles of his back as he sets a relentless pace, each powerful thrust punching the air from your lungs.

“So tight ...” he grits out in a gravelly burr. “Taking me so deep, god, you feel incredible...”

You can only whimper helplessly in response, overwhelmed by the feeling. Every nerve is alight with shuddering bliss.

Soon Lando’s lazy rhythm devolves into harsh, pounding strokes, the harsh clap of flesh on flesh echoing like thunder. The solid wall at your back provides delicious traction as your boyfriend jackhammers up into your fluttering heat with rapidly mounting frenzy.

“Yes … yesyesyes!” The breathless affirmations tear from your lips in sync with each punishing slap of his hips.

“Can hear how much you love this, getting pounded against the wall like a desperate little thing,” Lando rumbles with dark approval. “Am I hitting all those perfect spots, baby? Making that greedy cunt squeeze me so damn tight?”

“So close, so close!” You chant in a high, thready whine. Your release is rapidly building, that glorious crest just out of reach.

As if sensing your desperation, Lando shifts his grip so one hand can snake between your bodies. His clever fingers instantly find the swollen bundle of nerves at your apex and start working tight, purposeful circles with just the right amount of pressure.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god ...” The frantic mantra punches from your lungs in time with his feral thrusts. You can feel yourself teetering right at that blissful precipice, every nerve pulled tourniquet-tight with impending release.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Lando coaxes in a rough growl. “Let go for me. Wanna feel you come all over my cock ...”

His filthy words are your undoing. With a sobbing cry, your vision whites out in a supernova of shattering ecstasy. Pleasure rockets through your veins in pulsing waves, every muscle locked in the most beautiful torment. Vaguely, you feel Lando snarling curses against the fevered skin of your neck as your convulsing walls grip him in scorching velvet vice.

When your senses finally begin drifting back to you, Lando is peppering your sweat-dampened face with gentle kisses. He brushes the mussed hair from your brow tenderly, eyes brimming with naked adoration.

“So perfect for me,” he murmurs in hushed reverence. “Every bloody time. Fuck, I love watching you fall apart.”

You manage a weak, boneless smile at the affectionate praise, still riding the afterglow. You feel deliciously hollowed out, pleasantly achy in all the right places. Like every muscle has turned to warm honey.

After another moment, Lando carefully lowers your trembling legs until your wobbly knees find purchase on the plush carpeting. He frames your face with those gloriously rough hands, calluses catching on the flush of your cheeks.

“That good for you, love?” He asks with a hint of gentle teasing.

“Mhmm ...” You nod drowsily, leaning into his solid palm. “S’always good with you.”

Lando’s answering smile is bright enough to power every chandelier in the lavish suite.

***

“Baby, where are you? I’m home!”

Lando’s voice rings out as the door to your shared flat opens with a muffled snick. You pause your lounging on the couch, book falling forgotten to your lap as he steps inside, hauling a discreet black bag.

“In here!” You call out with a smile, already tingling with curiosity.

He appears in the doorway, flashing you that signature crooked grin that always has your insides melting. “There’s my gorgeous girl. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

You sit up a little straighter, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Rather than answer, Lando moves to the couch and deposits the bag between you two with a heavy thunk. Your brows shoot up quizzically.

“Well someone’s being mysterious,” you tease, giving the matte exterior an experimental prod. “What’s in this, Mister Norris?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” There’s a wicked glint in his eyes as he gestures towards the zipper pull.

Fighting a grin, you obligingly grasp the metal tab and pull, allowing the discreet covering to gape open. The first thing you register is a tangle of padded straps and buckles in sleek black leather. Then your eyes catch on the protruding shape nestled securely in the center … and you promptly choke on your own tongue.

It’s a hand. Or rather, a perfectly molded silicone model of one — every crease and callus captured in lifelike detail down to each delicate whorling fingerprint.

A whimper catches in your throat as realization slams into you with dizzying force. This hand … this hand with those long, talented fingers you’ve fantasized about more times than you can count … this hand is modeled after Lando’s.

“Oh my god ...” The words slip out in a strangled exhale. “Lando, is this ...”

His expression is carefully neutral, but the fiery glint in his eyes gives away his smug satisfaction. “You’re always going on about how much you love my hands. Figured you deserve to have the full experience whenever you want it, love.”

“I ...” Words temporarily fail you as you lift the shockingly realistic appendage free of its padded enclosure. The weight and articulation is uncanny, from the subtle flare of knuckles to the blunt tips of each digit. It’s almost unsettling how realistic it is.

You glance up to find Lando observing you with dark, hooded interest. His tongue darts out to wet his lips in a reflexive tell of arousal.

“What do you think?” He asks in a low, rough murmur. “Want to take it for a test drive?”

Heat lances straight to your core at the blatant suggestion. You reflexively squeeze the silicone digits in your grip, reveling in the slinky give and firm resistance. Already you can vividly imagine those fingers pumping into your dripping heat, stretching and stroking with that same delicious friction you’ve come to crave ...

“Y/N?” Lando’s voice pulls you from your lust-hazed daze. His eyes are blazing now, pupils blown wide. “Need you to use your words, sweetheart ...”

You make a small, needy sound as your thighs instinctively shift in subtle search of friction. “Yes … yes, I want to try it. Please ...”

That’s all the encouragement he seems to need. In the span of a heartbeat, Lando is divesting you of your thin cotton shorts and guiding your legs apart to settle between them on the couch. The hand rests heavy and solid in his palm as he holds it aloft, allowing you an unobstructed view.

You bite your lip against a whimper, already flushing with a heady cocktail of arousal and shameless anticipation. Lando’s lashes dip to half-mast as he brings the sculpted digits to his lips and lays a reverent kiss to each knuckle.

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” he rumbles in that low, raspy tone that never fails to have you melting. And then, with agonizing leisure, he trails the smooth pads down your chest … over the soft swell of your stomach … through the damp thatch of curls at your apex ...

A gasp punches from your lungs at the first glancing stroke against your folds. This may be an inanimate object, but its perfected shape coupled with Lando’s practiced touch feels so exquisitely familiar. Like the real thing is finally breaching that aching place inside you ...

“Bloody hell, you’re already dripping,” Lando observes in a rough growl. The flexed digits slide through your arousal in one slick pass, gathering your essence onto the sleek silicone. “Is this what you were thinking about, love? Having my fingers buried knuckle-deep in that greedy little cunt?”

You can only whimper and nod frantically as he draws tantalizingly close again. That unhurried brush of solid firmness against your most sensitive flesh already has your inner muscles fluttering desperately.

“Tell me what you want,” Lando rumbles in a tone of smoldering command. Those clever fingers circle your aching entrance, spreading your slick arousal in a torturous tease.

“T-The hand,” you stammer out in a pitchy whine. “Lando, please ... I need it i-inside me ...”

A wolfish grin curves his lips as he rewards your obedience with a searing kiss. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are blazing with liquid smoke.

“As you wish.”

Then Lando is tipping the toy at just the right angle to catch on your swollen entrance. With one smooth, purposeful thrust, he sheaths every last inch to the knuckle root inside your clenching heat.

The fullness is glorious, that solid silicone bulk stretching you wide in the most delicious way. Every delicate ridge and contour drags against your velvet walls with maddening friction with the slightest movement.

“Fuck ...” Lando practically snarls the curse through gritted teeth as he begins pumping the toy in a slow, purposeful rhythm. “So goddamn hot seeing you grip it like this, baby … squeezing so perfectly tight.”

You can only whimper helplessly in response, overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation. With each careful stroke, Lando angles the silicone fingers to create a firm nudge against that spongy cluster of nerves. Jolts of electricity hoot up your spine until you’re shuddering and whimpering.

“There you are ...” Lando’s voice is a rumbling growl of smug satisfaction as he locates that magic spot. “Squirming like a desperate little thing on my hand.”

To punctuate his words, he rotates his wrist with a purposeful flex of hard knuckles against your tender front wall. The exquisite pressure has your hips jerking upward in a helpless spasm, eyes flying open to lock gazes with your wickedly grinning boyfriend.

“Like that, do you?” He husks, lips brushing your cheek. “Never seen you make noises like this before. So hungry for my fingers buried deep...”

As if to emphasize the slick sounds already filling the air, Lando picks up the tempo of his thrusts in rapid, punishing strokes. The squelches are more erotic than anything you’ve ever heard as he rails you open on that delightfully thick silicone.

“Oh god, oh g-god ...” The desperate mantra spills shamelessly from your lips as white sparks begin bursting across your vision.

“Let it happen, baby,” he coaxes. “Need to see those gorgeous walls fluttering when you come ...”

With a startled cry, your spine bows off the cushions as your long-awaited climax finally detonates. Searing pleasure lances through every nerve ending in tsunami waves. You’re vaguely aware of choking out Lando’s name over and over in a breathless keen, your inner muscles flexing uselessly around the thick silicone toy.

When you finally drift back down, it’s to the feeling of damp hair being brushed from your brow. You blink blearily to find Lando gazing down at you with naked awe and unguarded adoration.

“You’re a vision like this,” he murmurs reverently. The hand-shaped toy is finally, carefully extracted with a slick sucking sound that has you flushing. “So beautifully ruined all because of my hand ...”

In a tender gesture, Lando cradles the back of your skull and brings the glistening silicone digits to your parted lips. The clean, musky tang of your own arousal coats every contour.

“Clean it up, love,” he commands. “Know how much you love the taste ...”

You moan faintly at the filthy demand, feeling a fresh slick of heat pooling between your legs. But there’s no way you can deny him this or yourself the heady intimacy of such an act. So with hooded lashes, you obediently part your lips and take those thick fingers onto your awaiting tongue.

Lando’s low groan of approval vibrates through your very bones as you seal your lips in a tight ‘O’ and suck with wanton fervor. The harsh breaths punching from his lungs spur you on, swirling your tongue over every crease and imprint hungrily.

“So fuckiny gorgeous,” he grits out in a tone of strained reverence. “You have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?”

As if to emphasize his words, Lando shifts position — and you suddenly become aware of the painfully rigid line of his erection pressing against your hip. With a needy whine, you instinctively grind up against that hot, insistent length through the thin barrier of his athletic shorts.

Your boyfriend’s lashes flutter as he bites back a growl. “Easy there, minx. You’re going to get me inside you soon enough.” He nips sharply at the bolt of your jaw, silicone fingers still working your slack mouth in shallow thrusts. “But first I want to watch you come apart on the real thing one more time ...”

A full-bodied shudder races through you at the dark promise underlining his words. With a pitchy sound of submission, you allow your heavy eyelids to slip shut and your jaw to unhinge obediently around the thoroughly used toy.

Every expert curl and flick of those clever digits is centered on the singular goal of dismantling you again. You’re powerless to resist, simply allowing the heady l sensations to crest higher and higher. Lando’s hoarse rumbles of encouragement cradle you, pushing you higher until you finally shatter into sublime oblivion once more.

And fuck, you love it when Lando’s hands on.

1K notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 5 months

Text

Hat Trick

Nico Hischier x fem!reader, Jack Hughes x platonic!reader, Luke Hughes x platonic!reader

summary: part 4 of the locksmith series! reader attends her first ever devil’s hockey game, and leaves a few pucks richer than when she came

notes: y’all i think this is my favorite part of this lil series so far. i literally wrote this in one sitting. i’m so happy with how it turned out. i hope you are too!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[6k]

part 1, part 2, part 3

You’ve been to a lot of Hughes centered hockey games in your life. You’ve been to watch both Quinn and Luke play during their time in Michigan, and you’ve been to watch several of Jack’s minor league games when you were teenagers.

Though somehow, despite how long you’ve been intertwined with the hockey breathing family, you had never been to a professional game. You talked about making a trip to Vancouver with your family at some point to watch Quinn, but it never worked out with your school schedule. You wanted to come watch Jack with the Devils a few times, too, but the plans always fell through.

You wish you’d tried harder right about now, because walking into the Prudential center, red and black everywhere you look, you’re a little overwhelmed.

Jack had told you exactly where to go and who to call if you got lost, but getting there wasn’t the issue. Finally having your car with you helped with that, considering it was delivered just yesterday. The company that you hired to haul your car to you had gotten the date of your move wrong, so you had been depending on Jack and Luke for rides anywhere outside of walking distance.

Today, though, they were needed at the rink far earlier than you would’ve been allowed in. And, in true superstitious hockey player fashion, they claim they can’t ride to the rink together for home games because the last time they did they lost the game. So, you were extremely excited when you got the call that your car had just been parked outside of the apartment complex the day before.

You had found the arena just fine, leaving your car with the valet Jack had told you to go to. You had gone to the entrance designated for friends and family of the players, flashing the locker room pass Jack had given you, and even managed to find your way to the public areas of the arena by yourself.

The issue you had run in to stems from the fact that not only had you never attended an NHL game before, but you had never attended an NHL game alone.

Even though you blended in with the crowd outwardly, donning a devil’s jersey like everyone else, you were way out of your element. Usually at the boys’ games you had Ellen and Jim with you, or your own parents. They always made you feel like you belonged a little more, because they would explain certain fan behavior to you.

You knew all you had to do was simply sit and watch the game, but with the energy being so chaotic leading to the rivalry game, you knew that the fans were going to be absolutely buzzing. People were walking past you, jumping in front of you for high-fives and fist bumps, yelling “GO DEVS!” before walking away like nothing had ever happened. You didn’t miss the occasional dirty look from anyone in a blue Rangers jersey, either.

When you had first made your way to the foyer area at the front of the arena, you had already seen security having to separate a Devils fan and a Rangers fan. They had been screaming at one another over something that you couldn’t make out when the Rangers fan slammed his fist into the Devils fan’s cheek.

The scene made you a little apprehensive about how the game was going to go. You knew this was one of the biggest rivalries that existed in the hockey world, and you had read that the Rangers had a tendency to play extremely physical, so you were nervous for all of the Devils players you were growing fond of.

You eventually make your way to your seat, but not before going full fan mode and buying a foam finger at one of the many merchandise stands you passed on your way. You thought Jack and Luke would get a kick out of it, figuring you’d need all the help you could get after they see what you’re wearing.

You kept your promise to Nico, currently sporting the number 13 on your back. You felt a little silly, honestly. You had never not worn a Hughes jersey to a hockey game before; you always wore the jersey of whatever brother you were watching, even if you had to buy one. But the conversation you had with Nico a few nights prior kept playing on a loop in your mind. The promise of a hat trick was too tempting to miss out on. Plus, even if he didn’t get a hatty, you knew you’d have the chance to make him do anything you wanted him to.

As you walk down the stairs towards your seat, foam finger on display proudly, you take in the pure atmosphere of the place. The arena looked huge from where you stood, lights dimmed and a red shadow cast over everything in sight. Not many people had made their way into the seating area yet, but there were a few fans bunched around the glass, waiting for the players to come out and start their warm ups.

You were pleasantly surprised when you found your seat free of any bodies, being able to settle in and wait for the arrival of the players on the ice. As the minutes ticked by, a few people made their way to your area, smiles and chants of ‘go Devils!’ once again filling the air around you.

You could see why people enjoyed coming to games so much. The sense of community was so strong in this building. Everyone was here to support the same cause, one goal in mind: a Devils win. You started to survey all the signs that fans had brought, setting them up against the glass for the players to see. Some of them had clever saying or riddles on them, some simply reading “puck?” with their favorite player’s number on it.

You also noted how many people were wearing Jack and Luke’s last name on their back. Even as you were driving up to the arena, you noticed the large presence of 86’s and 43’s surrounding you. It was odd, really, to see how many people were supporting your boys. It made your heart swell with pride, a little bit. To physically see the amount of people that believe in them the way you always have was enough to sell you on attending every Devils game from here until the end of time.

The newfound knowledge also further calmed your nerves surrounding your decision of wearing Nico’s jersey tonight. You had seen plenty of number 13’s floating around in the crowd, too, but Jack and Luke clearly had no lack of fan support.

The sound of pucks hitting the ice is what broke your attention from observing the people around you. You instantly clocked Luke’s curls, finding Jack not far from where Luke had settled on the ice. You looked around, trying to find a familiar head of brown hair you hadn’t seen nearly enough. Was he not warming up today? Was he okay? Did Luke actually hurt him the other day and he wasn’t playing today?

You don’t remember either of your roommates mentioning that their captain was hurt. That’s something they would’ve mentioned at least once, right? You continue to scan the ice for any sign of the Swiss man you couldn’t get off of your mind, not paying attention when Jack started skating in your direction. A loud bang on the glass in front of you was what finally broke your investigation.

“You’re here!” Jack yells through the glass at you, ignoring all the shouts of his name from the people standing around you.

“I told you I wasn’t going to miss it!” you shouted back, wondering if he could even hear you in the noisy environment.

Movement behind Jack caught your eye, Luke making his way over to stand next to his brother, causing an entirely new wave of sound to erupt around you.

“Bouy! You made it!” Luke shares his brother’s surprise, eyes flitting down to the jersey you’re wearing, noticing the black C that neither his nor Jack’s jersey had.

“Did you guys really have no faith I would show up tonight? Am I that bad of a friend?” you ask them, wondering why they thought you would be a no-show.

“Know it isn’t your scene, is all,” Jack shouts back, shrugging his shoulders, smile on his face.

“Uh-uh, it is now. Look, I even bought a foam finger! I’m legit, now!” you wave your newest Devils merch around.

They both shake their heads and laugh, your eyes wandering to the ice behind them once again.

“Who ya looking for, huh?” Luke is the one to notice they no longer held your attention, turning his head to look at his teammates warming up behind them.

“Oh, no one. Just, taking it all in,” you try to recover. Luke simply looks at you, the moment he caught you staring at Nico in your living room in the back of his mind.

“It’s awesome, right? I’m telling you, you’ll be wanting to come to every home game by the end of the night. There’s nothing like a Devils home game,” Jack tells you, oblivious to Luke’s implications moments ago.

Jack must have decided it was time to acknowledge some of the fans around you, skating off after he finishes his statement.

“He’ll be out in a minute, just so you know. Got hung up in a pre-game interview,” Luke’s muffled voice travels through the glass.

“Huh? Who? What’re you talking about?” you look at him, confusion taking over your features.

Luke deadpans at you, basically telling you to cut the bullshit. “You know who, Y/N.”

“Really, don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here for you and Jack, remember?” you remind him.

“Yeah? Then why do you have Cap’s jersey on?” Luke questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your head shoots down to look at the jersey you were wearing, cheeks turning red. You had almost forgotten you were even wearing it, too distracted by the atmosphere around you.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with that, by the way. He’ll be getting an earful once he gets out here, don’t you worry. And god help him when Jack finally notices. Might be the first time a player gets a penalty against his own teammate,” Luke continues, looking over to where Jack is chucking pucks over the ice a few feet away.

“It was Nico’s idea. Said he wanted to mess with you guys, is all. Then said if I wore it he would score a hat trick, and if he didn’t he owed me a favor of my choosing. Figured it’d be fun to mess with him and make him do some outrageous task. You know I never miss the opportunity to get under yours and Jack’s skin, either. Couldn’t resist the offer,” you confess.

Luke rolls his eyes, not wanting to call bullshit out here in the open like this, deciding to save the rest of the conversation for when you get home tonight.

You were going to respond, try to further plead your case, when you see a blur of red jump onto the ice from over near the Devils’ bench. Any attention you had granted to Luke was gone, watching a much anticipated head of hair flopping around as Nico does a few circles on the ice. You watch him wave to a few fans around the glass, conversing with a few of his teammates as he made his way around the ice.

Luke watches you follow Nico’s figure glide around on the ice, laughing to himself at how you were just trying to convince him you weren’t looking for anyone.

“I think I’ve proved my point,” you barely hear as Luke starts to skate away, noticing his captain skating over towards your section of the glass.

You’ve tuned out the shouts of Nico’s name around you as he makes eye contact with you, skating towards you with a smile.

“Hey! You’re here!” he winks at you, parroting Jack and Luke’s words. “And I see you chose the right jersey!” he lets his eyes fall to the jersey swallowing your body, eyes a bit bright than they were a few seconds ago.

“Why did no one think I was going to show up?” you huff out, throwing your arms up, foam finger still attached to your hand.

“Jack and Luke were convinced you’d bail because of your aversion to hockey crowds. But I see you’ve made yourself right at home,” he chuckles, nodding towards the foam finger.

“Well, yeah. Had to make myself official, y’know?” you give the foam accessory a small wave.

Nico laughs, sliding his feet back and forth in short strokes, planting his stick on the ice for stability.

“You ready to score that hat trick you promised, Cap?” you shout to him, crossing your arms in a challenging stance.

“Never been more ready in my life, Bouy,” Nico smirks.

“If you keep using that nickname I won’t be so nice in choosing a favor for you to do when you don’t score your hatty,” you threaten, hating that Jack introduced the nickname to Nico in the first place.

“Oh, I’m gonna score that hatty,” he moves closer to the glass, making sure you can hear him. “My good luck charm did exactly what I asked her to do, so I’d say my chances are pretty solid.”

You’re so focused on Nico’s words that you completely miss Jack making his way back over to your area, slapping Nico on the back once he reaches his destination.

“Hey, Cap! ‘Bout time you made it out here. Was starting to wonder if someone was going to have to come and save you.”

Nico removes his eyes from your flushed face, turning to chat with Jack as you’re left speechless.

You miss the rest of their conversation, too caught up in Nico calling you his good luck charm. You were entering very dangerous territory, here. Every conversation you have with the man bringing you farther and farther into a rabbit hole you might not be able to climb back out of.

On top of being stunned, you’re also confused. You’ve overheard Luke and Jack talk about Nico’s interactions with women. The amount of times they’ve poked fun at his obliviousness to women’s advances not forgotten. Or the way they claim he’s too focused on his career to think about anything other than hockey. You remember one story Jack told of Nico completely misreading a conversation with a woman at the bar, begging Jack to take him home after he all but ran away from the woman, claiming a stomach ache when she tried to coax him into an uber.

So, what was different about you? He clearly had no issues with casually sliding in comments that, although you try to convince yourself otherwise, are naturally flirtatious in their nature. When you let your eyes wander you notice Luke watching the interaction. He follows the way Nico’s gaze flicks over to you every few seconds, even though he’s in the middle of a conversation with Jack. Luke meets your eyes and gives you look you can’t decipher.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you wearing?” you hear Jack’s voice, snapping your head to look at his face, his eyes focused on the black C on the upper left side of the jersey you’re wearing.

“A…jersey?” you answer apprehensively.

“Yeah, I can see that. But why do you have on Neeks’ jersey, specifically?” He asks you, but looks at the player standing next to him.

“Guess she decided the better jersey wasn’t even in the Hughes family at all,” Nico references the argument Jack and Luke were having days prior.

Jack looks back at you, expecting an explanation from you. You open your mouth a few times to answer, but the reasoning of ‘I just wore it to get under your skin’ doesn’t seem appropriate when you can see the underlying anger on his face.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this. I need to actually warm up, but this conversation isn’t over,” Jack shoots to two of you a glare before skating away, huffing like a little kid.

“I knew he would get mad!” you point an accusing (foam) finger at Nico.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get over it. It’s just one game.”

“Well I’ll let you handle this then, mr. nonchalant. It was your idea, it’s your bomb to diffuse,” you wipe your hands of the situation.

“Gladly,” Nico flashes you a smile. “By the way, heads up,” he warns you before chucking a puck over the glass, watching it land on the ground beside you. You bend over to pick it up, noticing the writing on the back.

You read the scribble of “hatty” followed by the date and Nico’s signature in silver marker, looking up to see him skating off with a wink.

———————————————————————————

After you watched Jack throw his fit about you wearing Nico’s jersey from afar, earning nothing but a laugh from the jersey owner himself, they both skated away from each other to start actually warming up for the game ahead. You noticed Jack kept glaring at Nico, shoulder checking him a few times for good measure. Jack wouldn’t even look over at you, earning a pout from you when you made eye contact with Luke, begging him to do something to make Jack love you again.

Luke just shrugged at you as if to say “told you so,” choosing to focus on his warm ups instead. As the players left the ice to prepare for puck drop, you watched Jack finally look over to you, sporting a glare and giving a shake of his head before he disappeared from your view.

Even after the game started, you could still feel Jack’s pouting from where you sat. He was hesitant to pass the puck to Nico, costing them a few chances at goals. You cursed him every time, worried that this would’ve happened. You don’t know what was said, but during one of the tv timeouts, Nico skated over to Jack and all you could see was a finger poking out to jab Jack in the chest. Jack’s face grew more and more unimpressed as the conversation went on, but ultimately Jack nodded and skated off, rolling his eyes when he looked over to you.

For the rest of the period, you noticed Jack was better about passing the puck, no longer alienating Nico from his plays. He was still mad, though. You could see it in his body language and how he was playing rougher than he normally does. As soon as the first period was over, you were out of your seat and making your way down to the locker rooms. You flashed your pass and waited patiently after you asked someone to go fetch Jack for you, claiming it was an emergency.

Jack comes walking out of the locker room into the hallway, towel around his neck, jersey left behind.

“Okay, get it all out now, or so help me god I’ll jump onto that ice and beat some sense into you,” you tell him, wanting him to get all of his anger out of his system.

“You always wear one of our jersey’s, Y/N. Always. This is your first time watching me and Luke in a professional game, and you’re wearing someone else’s jersey?” Jack asks you, a small bit of hurt showing on his face.

“Jack, it was a joke. A last minute plan between the two of us. We thought it’d be funny since you and Luke were arguing about it,” you tell him, feeling a little bad that he genuinely seems hurt. “Plus, I didn’t really want to choose between you and Luke. It was hard. I had all three jerseys laying on my bed earlier, and I just couldn’t choose between the two of you.”

“I still don’t like that you wore someone else’s jersey,” Jack grumbles.

“It’s just one game, Jack, it’ll be fine. I promise this isn’t going to become a habit,” you assure him, reaching up to ruffle his hair, regretting your decision when you feel how sweaty it is.

“You sure about that?” Jack asks you, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N,” Jack starts, dropping his arms to his sides. “Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at him the whole game.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feel your cheeks heating.

“You can’t lie to me, remember? Know you too well,” he tells you, reminding you he’s always been able to tell when you’re caught in a lie.

“I mean…maybe I’ve been watching him. So what? He’s your friend, Jack. Not to mention our neighbor and the only teammate of yours I really know,” you try to justify.

“Bullshit. You’re into him.”

“No, I’m not!” you say too quickly, your voice going up in pitch, causing you to clear your throat. The sudden change in conversation came out of nowhere, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you ask about him every time Luke and I mention practice, or our jobs in general? Why do you always ask us if Nico made it home when we get home from practice? Or when you spent basically the whole night talking to him at the bar your first night here?” Jack asks you, waiting for your answers.

“I- I don’t ask about him that much,” you say, trying to retrace your conversations with Jack and Luke. Maybe you do ask about him more than you thought. “And I spent the night at the bar being shuffled around from table to table, which you did!” you remind him, having felt like you were speed dating, but platonically.

“When I came to get you to leave you were completely alone with him in a dark corner of the bar,” Jack throws back at you.

“He came and found me. I was on the phone with my mom and he decided to come check on me. I had nothing to do with that,” you defend.

Jack still doesn’t look convinced, crossing his arms once again, tilting his head towards you. “Listen, I’m not trying to start an argument. You know how I feel about having a thing for my teammates. But, out of all the guys on the team, I guess you could’ve done worse.”

You open your mouth to respond, trying to defend yourself once again, but Jack interrupts you before you can get a word out.

“Listen, none of this is really important right now. We can talk about it when I’m not in the middle of a game, but I still don’t really like that you wore his jersey instead of mine or Luke’s,” he circles back to the original conversation. “I mean, you’ve known him for like, two weeks. Joke or not. You know what people think when you wear someone’s jersey, right?”

“It’s not like that, I swear. And it’s not like I’m the only one here wearing his jersey, Jack,” you tell him.

“I know, but I’m just telling you to be careful. Nico’s a good guy, but he’s also a professional hockey player. He’s going to have…admirers. And once they see that you’re actually close to the team and his jersey is the one you’re sporting, things could get messy,” Jack warns you.

You stood there for a few moments, trying to figure out how the conversation even led to what it is. You know Jack is just trying to watch out for you, but he’s jumping to conclusions way too soon. It’s one game, and no one even knows who you are. Plus, it’s a harmless joke. It’s not like you’re wearing his jersey for any other reason.

“Thanks, Jack, really. But I assure you, I only wore it because he suggested it. He wanted to pick fun at you and Luke, that’s it. I’m sure he’ll tell the same story if asked about it,” you reiterated, trying to reassure him.

“Wait, he asked you to wear his jersey?”Jack asks you, surprise in his eyes.

“Yeah, he asked me to wear it to poke fun at the two of you. Then told me he’d score a hat trick if I agreed to wear it, so I did. Thought it’d be fun to see,” you shrugged, not seeing the big deal.

“So, he wanted you to wear his jersey and he promised to score a hatty if you did?” You nod at Jack’s echo of your words.

Jack stares at you, looking like he wants to say something but decides against it. The look on his face has you wondering if he knows something you don’t. You decided to let it go, though, and shoo him back into the locker room.

“Alright, talk over. Go back in there and get ready, you have some Rags to beat!” you push him away from you. You hear him laugh as you walk away, thinking about the conversation the whole way back to your seat.

———————————————————————————

Shit. He actually did it. He scored a fucking hat trick. The crowd goes absolutely wild when Nico’s shot sails straight into the goal as the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game. You jump up from your seat, screaming as loud as you can with the crowd around you. You bang against the glass, cheering for Nico as he celebrates with his teammates.

Once he breaks away from the group hug, he skates right over to you, pointing a gloved finger in your direction. You flash him a huge smile, not even caring that you lost whatever bet – if you could even call it that – you had going on with Nico. You were too high on the atmosphere. The goal causing the Devils to win in the last second, ego a little inflated at the thought that you could’ve contributed to it.

After the players left the ice and the crowd started to disperse a bit, you slowly made your way back down to the locker room, having been told to wait there after the game by Jack. You took in the sight of the happy fans milling about the arena, soaking in the energy for a little bit longer. You didn’t realize just how much you were soaking it in until you realized the time, figuring the guys would be changed and ready to go any minute.

As you were walking down the hallway to where other friends and family of the team gathered, you felt a harsh contact with your shoulder. It flung your body back, nearly making you lose your balance until you caught yourself at the last second.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you,” you said, knowing it wasn’t your fault, but apologizing anyways.

“Obviously,” you heard a deep voice say, a man in a blue Rangers jersey standing across from you, rolling his eyes.

“Well, no need to be rude about it. You bumped in to me, y’know,” you grumbled out, a little pissed as the man’s response after you apologized first.

“Watch it, bitch. Just cause your shitshow of a team won tonight doesn’t mean you’re truly better than us. Just wait till next game. We’ll smoke your asses,” he spits out at you, letting you smell the alcohol on his hot breath.

“What the hell does the game have to do with you bumping in to me? The two are completely unrelated,” you question, stepping back and scrunching your nose at the foul smell.

“Keep talking, bitch, and I’ll show you just how bad we can beat the Devils asses,” the man steps forward, stumbling a bit before correcting himself.

“Alright, chill out. It’s just a game, buddy,” you back up against the wall next to you, trying to put some distance between you and him.

“God, why do you puck bunnies never shut the fuck up? I literally told you to stop talking, what part of that don’t you understand?” he backs you up even further, not leaving much room for you to make an escape.

“Technically you told me to keep talking,” you say before you can think better of it.

The man basically growls at you raising his hand back. To do what, you never find out, because a voice brings him back to reality, making him seem to remember he’s in public.

“I suggest you drop your hand and step away.”

The man’s head whips around, looking behind him. Once he steps back from you slightly, you make your escape, removing yourself from the wall.

You see Nico standing a few feet away from you, a grey suit on his body, his hair covered by a cream color beanie.

“Oh, how convenient. Captain to the rescue,” the guy slurs, turning his body to fully face Nico.

“Do I need to call security or are you going to be smart and get the fuck out of my arena?” Nico spits, surprising you with his harshness.

“Whatever. I’m going. Don’t be so dramatic. The puck bunny started it, anyways,” the man waves you off, stumbling away without a glance back.

Nico watches him walk away, stepping towards you the second the man is out of view.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you? Do I need to go get security?” He fires off questions, concern present in his brown eyes.

“No, I’m fine. He bumped into me then started spewing some bullshit about the game. I asked him how the two were related and he just kept talking about how he was gonna show me how ‘we can really beat the Devils asses’,” you put up air quotes.

“Are you sure?” his eyes continue to look you up and down, darting across your face to check for any sign showing you weren’t okay.

“Really, it’s fine. He didn’t do anything. Thank you, though. For scaring him away,” you assure him, causing him to relax.

“Of course. Seems to be a pattern, after all. Me running to your rescue,” he references your previous encounters. Letting you into your apartment, getting the bartender’s attention so you could order a drink that same night, his help when you were making dinner just a few nights ago. He really did always show up when you needed help.

You look up at him with a smile. “My very own knight in shining armor.”

He bows dramatically. “M’lady.”

You laugh at the action, causing Nico to join in.

“So I guess I owe you a congratulations, huh?” you ask after your laughter dies down.

Nico beams at you, pulling a stack of three pucks out of the bag slung over his shoulder, the tape they’re held together by reading ‘hat trick”. He holds them out towards you, signaling you to grab them.

“Here, they’re yours. You’re the reason I got them, after all,” he tells you, placing the pucks into your hand.

“I don’t think I had anything to do with it,” you look at your hand before looking back up at Nico.

“Sure you did. I told you if you wore the jersey I’d score one. And you did. And then I scored three goals. I told you, you’re my goodluck charm,” he smiles at you, shrugging like a hat trick was no big deal.

You roll your eyes at him, trying to fight a smile. “Sure, whatever you say, Cap.”

He chuckles at your sarcasm, shaking his head at you.

“Guess I need to pocket that ridiculous favor I had in mind, then,” you tell him, toying with the pucks, thinking about how he gave you four different ones tonight.

“I’m sure you can save it for future use. Think you’ll be able to cash it in sooner than you think,” he tells you, a confused look on your face.

“You won, though. I wore the jersey, you scored three goals. That was the whole thing,” you remind him, not knowing where he was going with his statement.

“You never asked me what I got if I did score a hatty.”

You were taken aback by his words, not realizing that was part of the deal. “Okay…well, what do you get, then?”

“You have to do me a favor,” he tells you, grin on his face.

You furrow your brows, confused. “I thought the whole point of my end of the deal was because I already did you a favor?”

“You did. But now I get to ask you for another one,” he rocks back on his heels, way too giddy about the situation.

You look at him, a little scared at what he has planned. He just continues to look at you, his shit-eating grin still extremely present.

“Okay…what is it?” you ask him, getting impatient.

“Oh, I’m not telling you yet. I’ll cash it in when I’m ready,” He replies, amused at the unamused look on your face.

“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me what cruel fate you’re subjecting me to?”

You hear the voices of Jack and Luke echoing through the hallway on the other end of the room. You turn your head away from Nico, watching the two brothers make their way towards you, lost in their own conversation.

“All in due time, dear Bouy,” Nico says, taking a step back from you.

Your distaste for the nickname shows on your face, causing Nico’s eyes to twinkle, loving how mad you get over the silly name he still hasn’t learned the origin of.

“Whatever. Keep it to yourself, then. I don’t care,” you lie.

“Have a good night. See you soon,” Nico says with a wink, turning to walk in the direction of Jack and Luke, giving them a wave as he passes them. Both of them look up and notice you standing where he just came from, turning to look at each other with raised eyebrows.

You look down at the pucks in your hand once more, looking at the emblem on top noting what game and date they were from. When you look at the bottom of the last puck, you catch a streak of silver reflecting off of the fluorescent lights in the hallway. Turning it completely upside down, you make out the 9 digits of a phone number scribbled along the bottom, matching the handwriting of the words and signature on the first puck Nico gave you that night.

“Hey, ready to go? We’re starving. Luke wants waffles so we’re going to meet a few of the guys at a diner not far from the apartment, you want go?” Jack asks as the two approach you.

You don’t respond, too stuck on the fact that Nico gave you his phone number on the bottom of his hat trick pucks. You’re impressed at how smooth it was, but also freaking out and trying not to jump to conclusions. It’s just a phone number. It could mean nothing. Maybe he just wanted you to have it because you’re neighbors? Or because you’re so close with Jack and Luke. Maybe he wanted you to have it for emergencies.

“Hello, earth to Y/N. You good?” Luke snaps you out of your trance. You bring the pucks down to press the bottom against your leg, hiding the phone number from your roommates.

“What? Yeah. I’m fine. Great. Perfect.”

“Okay…” Jack trails off, giving you a suspicious look. “So, yes or no to the waffles?”

“Oh my god, yes. The answer to waffles is always yes,” you say excitedly.

“Okay then, let’s go. Some of the guys are already there. I’ll drive,” Jack laughs at you, walking towards the exit leading to where the players park.

“Shotgun!” Luke yells out, turning back to see your reaction to the competition that was so fierce when you were kids.

Your mind is once again on the pucks in your hands, and the player that gave them to you. You look at the numbers again, deciding the boys were far enough ahead for you to safely sneak a peek, wanting to make sure they were actually there and you weren’t seeing things. Your earlier conversation with Jack making its way back to the front of your mind, wondering if maybe Jack’s concern is relevant.

Luke just smiles and shakes his head, remembering watching his captain frantically ask around for a sharpie in the locker room, writing something on the exact set of pucks you now have in your hands before bolting from the room like a man on a mission.

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momoswifee · 2 months

Text

Peaches and a Broken Car

Pairing: Mina x reader

Synopsis: Mina decides to take some time off and when she goes to her parents' house, her car suddenly breaks down leading her to meet Yn.

Warnings: The reader has abandonment issues and tbh I think that's it for now.

w/c: 5558

a/n: I've been working on this for a while now, I'm planning on making this a mini-series? I'm really excited to finally put this out and for you guys to read it! Again, I really appreciate criticism so that I can do better next time, so if you have any, please let me know :) Also big thanks to @cry4mina for their amazing brain that helped me figure out what to do with this story :)

Pt1- Pt2 - Pt3

Mina had always loved the art of performing. She found the idea of immersing herself so much in a character that she could be able to portray characters and tell their stories just by using her body language and facial expressions in a certain way fascinating.

She loved the way she could tell stories of people for thousands of people to see, it was something she was very proud of. However, the fame that came with it was something that she wished was not part of this ordeal. Fame was something that many always wanted to achieve, the idea of being adored by many and of being an idol to others was for some their life dreams. However, Mina never wanted a loud and busy life, she had always preferred the quiet aspect of it.

After finally finishing filming an adaptation of “All the Lovers in the Night”, which she considered to have been one of her most challenging works, she was on her very much-deserved holiday, which she planned to spend with her parents, who had recently moved to a quiet little town just an hour or so away from the city.

“...turn left in 300 meters”

Finally, Mina thought to herself, after hearing the GPS’s directions, showing how close she was to arriving at her parents.

Suddenly, she hears a clicking sound before the car starts jolting.

What the hell?

Suddenly, the car comes to a halt, letting out a whooshing sound as a small cloud of smoke come out from its hood.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters as she gets out of the car after trying to park it as much to the right as possible. After a minute of silence, she tries to restart the car, in hopes it wakes up.

A glimmer of hope forms inside her as she hears the car slowly start before the familiar clicking starts again, making her turn it off, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere with that car soon.

Fuck

After the failed attempt at restarting the car, she decided to get out and see if she could call for car support so that she could get over this as quickly as possible. As soon as she’s out of the car, she's trying to call for support but soon notices that her battery is running out, making her dial the number as quickly as possible.

“No no no no no” she mumbles as she watches her phone die. “You have got to be kidding me” she almost screams in exasperation.

I cannot believe this is happening right when I decide to go on holiday, she thinks to herself sighing.

After a while of sitting on the hood of her car, taking breaks from trying to restart her car long enough to connect her phone so that it could charge a little bit more to call for assistance, she sees a ball of white fur bark and run towards her.

“Hi buddy!” she exclaims when the dog adorably walks up to her, pushing his head closer to her tight as if to ask for pets, making her laugh and crouch down giving him her full attention, slightly compensating for all that had happened until that moment.

“Otis!” Mina hears from the direction the dog had come, assuming the voice as being the owner’s. “You can’t just run off like that.” says the voice, slightly off-breath as it approaches them.

“It’s fine really!” Mina says, trying to sound reassuring, “He seems like a good boy…” she trails off as she looks up, meeting your gaze. As she looks at you, she feels her shoulders instantly drop, as if every ounce of stress accumulating in her throughout the day had vanished.

“I’m sorry, he really just ran off as soon as he saw the car here.Is that your car?” you ask her as you leave Otis in her grasp to check it out.

“Uh yeah, I guess it had some engine problems? It never had any problems before, I was not expecting it at all” she answers, still upset at her car breaking down so near her parent's place.

“If I could, I would totally help you out, but I’m not that good with my hands when it comes to cars,” You tell her sheepishly, “I do have the contact of a mechanic in town who could probably figure this out with no trouble” you add for Mina’s great relief.

“Really? And do you think they could come today?” she asks with a hopeful tone.

“Hold on, I’ll give them a call,” You tell her as you take out your phone to quickly call the mechanic. After the short call, you walk back to deliver the news. “It shouldn’t be long before they get here, they said they would come in maybe 20 minutes since it’s not that far.” You explain, making Mina feel like a big weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“I don’t even know how to thank you…” Mina says, smiling softly at you, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, Your car will be in good hands too, don’t worry,” You say, shrugging. “You know…I really wouldn’t feel good with myself leaving you here alone though… would you like to come to the farm while we wait? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to!” you say, quickly adding the last bit, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.

“I’d really appreciate it.” Mina says, smiling at you relieved, knowing that she’s going home soon.

As you both walk to your house, you attempt to make small talk to avoid the awkward tension, learning that Mina is going to be spending her holiday time with her parents, in search of peace and quiet.

After arriving at your place, Mina notices that you live on something alike to a farm, but a little smaller. As you wait by the porch, playing with your dog, Mina has the opportunity to check your little farm out, taking notice of the various fruit trees you had.

She learns that you had once been a Hockey player in the city but due to a knee injury, you had retired and decided to come back to your hometown to help your parents with their business, eventually leaving it to you.

After a while, the mechanic finally shows up at your house, with the car already towed, honking to call for your attention, making you smile instantly.

“Hey pretty!” You say, getting up quickly to greet the person driving the car. Said person getting out quickly as well in time to greet you properly with a hug. “Mina, this is my friend Jeongyeon, she will be taking your car to the shop and give you a ride to your parents since it’s probably on the way.” You explain, detaching yourself from your friend, who gives Mina a small wave to greet her.

“Well, I hope you have a good rest.” You say, guiding her to the car with Otis on your tail trying to get more pets from his new friend.

“I’m sure I will.” She says, leaning down to pet Otis for the last time before she leaves.“Thank you for letting me stay here while I waited for the tow.”

“Of course, it was really nice having you here.” You say, smiling shyly at Mina.

Honk

“Hey, love birds! It’s getting dark, we should really get going, so I can drop Mina off and close the shop in time!” Jeongyeon calls from the truck, making you both blush at her nickname.

As she gets in the truck, she sees you waving goodbye and then remembers she had forgotten to ask you for your number. Before she can get out to ask, the truck is already getting out of your house.

After a short-ish and quiet drive, she’s finally home. When she opens the door, her parents come rushing to hug her, worried because of the calls that went unanswered by her. After letting them know what had happened, she just went straight to bed, too tired to keep them company for much longer.

As days go by, Mina has finally begun to feel more and more at ease, more in contact with herself. One day, as she’s preparing lunch, she hears someone knock at the door.

“Mina, please get the door!” she hears her mom call from outside.

When she opens the door, she sees a surprising face on the other side. There you stand, carrying a crate with a mix of fruits and vegetables, wearing your hat backward, sporting a small smile on your face.

“Hi”

“Please come in” Mina hurriedly says, not wanting you to carry such a heavy-looking crate for too long.

“I didn’t know you were the Myoui’s daughter.” you say as you enter the house and put the crate by the table.

“Yeah…” she answers, still a bit surprised to see you there

“I come here once a week to deliver fruit to them since the crate is usually a bit too heavy for your mom to carry” you explain, not wanting to seem like you just like to pop up to people's houses.

“Thank you for that,” she says, touched by your consideration. “She told me that this week we’d be getting the fruit delivered, but I guess I forgot what day it was coming.”

After an awkward silence from both parts, you finally ask her how her time there has been, if she had her car fixed. “Oh yeah, thank you! They already have the car ready to get picked up. I’m going this afternoon.” she answers, grateful for the break from the awkwardness.

You only nod at that and give her a small smile, and you two get awkward again and stay silent for a bit, not knowing what to say.

“Yn honey hi! Thank you so much for bringing the produce!” The older woman says, going to hug you.

“Of course, I’m always happy to help!” You tell her with one of the brightest smiles Mina had ever seen, making her instinctively smile as well.

After exchanging pleasantries, you decide to go back to work. As you’re almost out the door, Mina follows you, not wanting to let you go without asking you for your number.

“Yn! Wait up!” Mina says, following as you’re almost inside your truck.

“Yeah?” You say, peaking your head out of the car, almost hitting it as you rushed to see what it was that Mina wanted.

“I uh, I wanted to know if I could get your number?” Mina asks, suddenly shy.

“Yes! I mean, yeah, sure, of course.” You say, trying to act nonchalant as you quickly hand her your phone.

“Let’s keep in touch, yeah?” Mina says as she hands you the phone, giving you a big gummy smile, making your insides melt. You’re only able to give her a nod, unable to answer her verbally.

❂

“Did you just giggle?” JIhyo says, barking out a laugh as she sees you staring at your phone after receiving a message from Mina.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “Did a puck hit you too hard on the head?” you joke, trying to avoid talking about your shameful giggle at a text from a girl you had just met.

“Hardy har har” she says, rounding the corner and following you as you move through the furniture looking for the renovated table Jihyo had ordered. “You can’t just lie to me, I know you like the palm of my hand! Jeongyeon back me up??” Jihyo says, turning to her friend for support.

“Hm? Sorry, I was not paying attention at all. Can we speed this along, though? I have a job.” The older one says, putting her phone away as she moves to meet the other girls in the middle of the furniture maze.

“Who were you texting though” Jihyo insists as she picks up the end of the table to carry it out.

“Oooh was it the girl I picked up from your place?” Jeongyeon joins in, teasingly wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“A girl?” JIhyo says, almost dropping the table. “Why am I the last one to know about this?”

“There is nothing to know about.” You tell them as you slowly put the table down, ready to put it on Jihyo’s car, ready for her to stop pestering you. “She had trouble with her car a while ago, so she stayed at my place while she waited for Jeongie to pick her up to take the car to the shop. Since she’s staying here for a while, we decided to keep in touch-” you try saying, but are cut off by teasing “ooohs” and whistles from both girls. “Just as friends!” you quickly add, rolling your eyes.

“You know it would do you some good to get out of the house,” Jeongyeon says, bringing you closer when she sees you trying to get away from their teasing by going back to the shop.

“I do get out.” You say almost indignantly, making both of them snicker.

“You getting out of the house to go to work or to go to the farmers market does not count. You don’t even visit some of us in the city as frequently.” Jihyo says, already getting inside the car. “You don’t giggle at texts, you’re a loser, but I’ve never seen you like this. If this girl does that to you, you should give it a try, even if you’ve only known her for a short while. Get to know her.”

You only mumble in agreement, not wanting to commit to something yet. After Jihyo leaves, you try sneaking off into the store, knowing Jeongyeon will still try to talk about what had just happened.

“Nope, come here.” She says when she sees you slowly backing away, pulling you by the hand to sit on the bench outside your store. “I know this is scary, you don’t like getting close to new people-”

“I do like it-” you start

“Let me finish,” she says, cutting you off. “It’s good for you. We get together often, but since you came back you’ve been pulling out of social interactions. Mina seems like a sweet girl.” She continues, holding your hand gently. “I’m not saying you have to make a move, you’ve only known the girl for what? Two weeks?” she asks, getting an inconclusive hum from you. “Just get to know her, she told me she’s staying here for vacation when I drove her to her parents. You can make a new friend.” she says, ending her little encouragement speech.

“You sound like my mom.” You grumble.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I love your mom.” She says, patting your head as she gets up. “I'll call you later, ok?” She says, already walking away.

It’s not that you didn’t want to get to know Mina better, you’d like nothing more. Even after days of texting back and forth, sharing jokes and facts about you, you were still hesitant about letting someone else in.

You sighed and looked at your phone, still open on the messages app with Mina’s text waiting for your response.

Do you want to meet tomorrow? I can’t wait to see you again :)

You smile down at it before finally answering.

I’d love to. I can’t wait to see you too :)

❂

“This one almost fell off!” Mina says excitedly as she puts the peach inside her basket.

“Yeah, they’re good to go right now, I’ll probably take them to the market this weekend.” You say, chuckling at her enthusiasm. “You should be careful though, if you pick them out with too much force, some parts that will get spoiled more easily.”

After your friend's visit, you decided to invite Mina to your house to create a more intimate environment so that you could get to know her better without any stress from people being around.

"Oh, look at this one! It’s you!" she says laughing, holding one out for you to see.

You move closer to her, trying to see what she means as she points at the fruit.

"You know, cuz you're a peach." she says, maybe in an unusual attempt at flirting. After a moment of silence, she turns away from you and goes to another tree to get away from what had just happened. You only stare at her with a dumb smile on your face, completely infatuated by her.

“Are you flirting with me?” You ask, moving closer with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Me flirt- flirting? Why would I- No of course not” Mina says, stumbling over her words as she moves further away.

“Why did you call me a peach, then?” You ask chuckling, finally able to be close to her again.

“Well because you look like one.” She says shrugging, looking away, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Yeah, cuz we share oh so many similarities.” You say, tilting your head, trying to look at her.

“Yeah, both round and red.” she says, shrugging, making you bark out a laugh.

“You’re saying I’m round and red?”

“You’re insufferable” she huffs and turning away again, only making you laugh more.

“You can’t say I’m insufferable, we’ve only known each other for two weeks or so” You exclaim, still laughing.

“Would it be bad if I was?” Mina finally stops, turning to you, and looking into your eyes. As you look at her, you find yourself unable to form any words, this seeming to be becoming a recurring occurrence now.

You only shake your head no and move closer to her. You see her tense up as if she had stopped breathing, and unconsciously do the same. As you get closer to her, you’re now able to check ever single detail on her face, every single line, every single mole.

“It would not be bad at all” You say, almost whispering with your voice shaking, as you adjust the straw hat on her head as it was slowly falling forward.

“Yn!” you two suddenly hear, making you both hastily make some distance between each other.

“Mom?” You call out, having recognized the voice, moving towards the sound, taking Mina’s hand in yours to follow you not noticing her almost freezing up at the contact.

“Hi baby” she enthusiastically says, with open arms ready to engulf you in her arms. She, however, stops mid-way when she sees you holding hands with an unknown girl. “Who is this?” she asks, with a mischievous smile forming on her face.

As soon as you realize what she’s talking about, you feel your face heat up, realizing that you were holding hands with Mina. Quickly, you let go of her hand, not wanting to make her feel comfortable, too embarrassed to notice the slight look of disappointment that had crossed her face as you did so. “This is Mina, she’s the Myoui’s daughter.” You explain, weekly gesturing to the girl beside you.

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you!” your mom says, going to hug Mina, surprising her.

“She’s always like this” you mouth to her when she looks at you for help.

“Don’t run from me!” You hear as you see Otis speed away from your father, who’s chasing him.

“Dad, stop pestering Otis.” You say, sighing, going in the direction your dog had run.

“It’s not pestering, he loves it!” The older man says, before spotting Mina. “And who is this?” he says with a curious gaze and a little smile playing on his lips.

“This is the Myoui’s kid.” Your mom says, introducing her, and instead of a warm hug, he instead offers a warm smile, one too similar to yours. After a bit of short talk, and your parents wanting to start sharing stories about how you were as a child, you volunteered to walk Mina home.

“They seem fun” Mina says as she walks by your side.

“They’re pests.” You say fondly, not being able to contain your smile.

“I’m glad we could do this today…” Mina says, sneaking glances at you, catching you doing the same from time to time.

“It was really fun, yeah.” You say with a smile. Out of nowhere, a gust of wind hits you both and sends Mina’s hat into the field. “I’ll pick it up don’t worry.” You assure her, trying to chase it.

“You don’t have to!” She calls after you, going after you.

“I want to, stay there, I’ll be back in a minute.”

After no longer than 5 minutes, she hears a thud and a groan, making her look your way, only to see you holding her hat looking quite disheveled, with furrowed eyebrows grumbling.

“What happened?” she asks worried, seeing small tears on your pants.

“I didn’t see the roots” You mumble, dusting yourself off with your free hand, before offering her a beaming smile. “I got your hat though! Here, let me put it on,” you say, dusting it off of any dust it might have before adjusting it on Mina’s hair again. “There.” You say, smiling, finding yourself in the same position you both had been in before your parents had come home.

“Thanks” Mina mumbles, looking away, not attempting to make eye contact.

As you both continued your walk, you could feel your fingers brush hers, making your face erupt in flames. You decided to look at her, sneakily and found yourself breath taken. It wasn’t just her shy smile that had your knees trembling, but also the light coming between the trees and how they hit her skin, how her eyes gained a new shine as she watched the birds chirping above you. You would never admit this out loud, at least not to her, but even though you had only known her for such a short period of time, you were absolutely smitten.

“We should do this again,” Mina says as she steps on her parent’s porch. “I had fun.”

“Yeah.” You manage to get out, fiddling your fingers. “I’ll text you?” you ask, receiving a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.” she says, getting closer to you. Before you can process it, Mina kissed your cheek and was already inside the house.

❂

“We've actually been hanging out a lot, even if she's working too. Last Tuesday she took me to the lake, we spent the whole day there. But now she won't even answer my texts” Mina sighs, not knowing what to do.

“Well you've already tried talking to her, I'm honestly not sure what else you can do.” Sana, her friend, says through the phone.

“Well, yes, but I actually thought things were going well.” The girl continues, pacing around.

She knew that she couldn’t expect anything romantic out of this relationship, at least not at that moment, but she did think that your relationship was progressing in that direction, and she was happy about it, there didn’t seem to be any problems until you suddenly stopped answering her texts and only came by her parents place when she wasn’t there.

“I’m not sure what to tell you, honey, I wish I could offer you more words of comfort, but it seems like this all came out of the blue so…” The older girl says.

After a long talk, Mina decides to come down, only to see a very familiar crate full of veggies and fruit sitting at the table. She realizes then that Yn had come over to deliver the produce as usual, managing to avoid her again.

“Mina hi! What can I do for you?” Jeongyeon says as she gets out from under the car she had been fixing, oil stains all over her. “Is your car giving you trouble?”

“Not the car, no.” Mina answers with a dry chuckle, looking around.

“What happened?” Jeongyeon asks, cleaning her hands, and guiding Mina to her office so that they could talk more freely.

“I just…” she started, frustration settling in. “Is Yn alright? Has anything happened? Was it something I did?” Mina ends up asking, rapidly.

“Hey no what?” Jeongyeon says, holding her arms, trying to calm her down. “It’s not you, ok? You did nothing wrong.” She says, trying to reassure her. “Yn has a complicated relationship with people. Has she told you about her retirement?” She asks getting up, getting a cup of water, and giving it to Mina, but only getting a negative nod as a response to her question.

“I’m not sure whether it’s my place to tell you about all the details, that’s something Yn should tell you if she thinks she wants to. She had it pretty rough with her team after her injury, it hit her pretty hard.” Jeongyeon says, sighing after remembering how everything had impacted her friend. “After her injury, some people on the team started blaming her, people that were supposed to have her back, people that Yn trusted a lot. After that, she got too much in her head and started self-isolating. Those people leaving her, blaming her, made her start to think that others would do that too.” She ends, frustration lacing itself into her tone.

“I didn’t know…” Mina says, almost in a whisper. “That must have been tough.”

“It was, she has been trying to get out more and get better, but you know how these things are…” Jeongyeon says, searching for understanding in Mina’s eyes. “I know it doesn’t excuse her keeping you in the dark, but I hope it at least explains it.”

“It does, but I still want to try and talk to her.” Mina says, getting up, ready to see if you were at your shop.

“Yeah, but if you want to try today, you won’t have any luck. She went to the city, she’s hanging out with a friend.” Jeongyeon says, guiding Mina out, almost apologetic.

“I’ll see if I can catch her at the market then.” Mina decides, gaining a nod from Yn’s friend.

As Mina walks home with this new information she starts to understand why you had done what you did, however, she can’t help that she felt hurt by those actions. She decided that she had to confront you, to ease her mind and also in turn ease yours.

A couple of days later, her mom had decided to go to the market so Mina took that opportunity to go see you. When they arrive, they see you at your stand with your dad and waste no time to go over there.

“...yes, Yn only started producing this type of tomato this year, but I really like them, especially in salads, they really bring out the taste…” says your father, engrossed in his tomato talk with a possible customer. “Mina! Hi!” He suddenly exclaims as he notices her presence. “I haven’t seen you in a while, have you been enjoying your time off?” He asks, after making sure the other customer did leave with the tomatoes he was so enthusiastic about.

“It’s been great yeah!” Mina answers him with a tight smile, more focused on Yn and how she’s suddenly checking every single peach on the stand for defects.

“she’s really been able to relax more, she works too hard”

“Do you come here often?” comes out of Mina’s mouth before she can stop herself, feeling silly since she is literally at her stand. There is a small victory since a small smile shapes itself on your lips unintentionally.

“Yeah…” you say, not wanting to prolong this conversation, too scared of where this might go.

“How have you been?” Mina tries again, not feeling deterred.

“Eh I’ve been alright.” You say, offering her a small smile, but looking away almost instantly.

“Are you not going to ask how I’ve been?” Mina says, trying to meet your eyes, finding them guilt-ridden. “Well, I haven’t been that great. My friend, or at least someone I thought was my friend, stopped talking to me and has been avoiding me. I’m not sure if she’s doing it because of anything I did, but she won’t even answer my texts so I can’t really know.” Mina finally lets out, unthinkingly letting out her frustrations on the situation as well.

“No! No. I- It was not you, it was all me. I get too inside my head and end up pushing people away. This is no excuse, especially since I’m not even explaining it well, but I am still sorry Mina.” You quickly say as you fiddle with your fingers.

“You know, I wouldn’t have left.” She says, after a silent moment. “I texted a lot, I would think that that was an indicator right?” she says chuckling trying to lighten the mood, making you smile slightly relieved. “You do have to make it up to me…”

“I’ll do my very best,” you tell her, now smiling more openly.

❂

As time progresses, you two end up making up, and you start visiting the city more because of Mina since she had returned to work.

Knock Knock Knock

“Coming!” Mina yells from the kitchen, hurriedly going to the door, not knowing who could be at such a late hour. Once she opens the door, she is pleasantly surprised to see you there holding a bag of takeout with one of your big smiles on your face.

“Hi” you say, already going inside, not wanting to stay out in the cold. “I brought take out from that place down the road.” You explain, already going to the kitchen with a familiarity Mina hadn’t noticed until now, but still a welcome one. As you both ate, Mina started realizing that the silly infatuation she had felt over the summer had evolved into a full-grown crush, and suddenly she didn’t know how to act.

“Do you want to watch a movie after?” You ask her with a mouthful, which was honestly disgusting, but for Mina, who found herself realizing that she was unbelievably down bad for you, it was somewhat endearing.

“You’re so gross.” She says, with no sentiment behind it, a love-sick grin starting to spread on her face. “You choose, I’m cleaning up the dishes.” She says, getting up quickly not wanting you to see her smile like that.

Once she returns to the living room, she finds you already sprawled comfortably on the couch with Spider-Man on the screen waiting for her to press play. Once you were both comfortably watching the movie play, you decided to explain to her little details that could help her better understand the plot and the reasons behind some behaviours of certain characters, and even though she had tried so hard to pay attention to those details, the only things she could focus on were how your eyes lit up, how you knew all about this fictional universe and how invested you were in it.

“...and that’s why-What?” You ask, finally noticing her unnerving stare.

“You’re such a nerd,” she says softly, her voice filled with adoration, making you flush under her gaze. “Tell me more about it.”

“Do you actually want to know?” You ask her, laughing, knowing she was probably not paying any attention to your side information.

“I like listening to you talk.” She shrugs. “It’s cute. I might have to try and get a Marvel contract, maybe then you’ll talk about as me as passionately as you talk about Peter Parker.” She says, inching closer to you, with a teasing smile, and at that moment you thank everything divine for not being too close to her, or else she would’ve felt the heat emanating from you, from how flushed you were starting to get because of this banter of hers.

“Do you think I’d make a good spider woman? Hm?” Mina says, feeling more confident after looking at your state, already so close, she could see your chest rising rapidly. “I’d let you try out the iconic upside-down kiss…” she finalizes, feeling a surge of confidence she normally didn’t feel, as she gently turned your face towards hers, getting closer and closer, already being able to feel your ragged breath mixing with hers.

“Mina…” You breathlessly whisper, following her lead, your mouth opening slightly, not being able to stop your eyes from following her every move.

She only hums in response, tilting her head slightly to kiss you gently on the cheek, lips so soft you could’ve missed them. Instead of stopping there, she starts to slowly trail little kisses in your mouth’s direction. As she’s almost there, her eyes find yours as if asking for permission. You don’t even try and answer verbally, knowing full well you would not be able to do so, instead, you just let your hand go to her nape and gently bring her closer to you, letting your lips finally meet in a soft kiss. As you try to deepen the kiss, you feel her smile against your lips, making it impossible to do so.

“What are you smiling about?” You ask, still impossibly closer, lips almost touching, not even wanting to think about putting some distance in between both of you.

“Nothing” she simply says, pulling you in for another kiss, sharing the same thought of not wanting to be apart from you a minute longer.

#twice x reader #twice imagines #mina x reader #myoui mina x reader

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

Where Did the Time Go?

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You decide not to drink during game night, which leads to an interesting conversation with Bucky. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We'll Always be Friends A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure what exactly happened between dinner and now, but you decided that the fun game night wouldn’t include drinking. You hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since your meal. Even then, you were pretty sure you didn’t have much. Sharon brought out a bottle of wine before everyone finished eating and you took a sip of your glass out of obligation. If she noticed you didn’t finish your glass, she didn’t say anything, which you appreciated.

But you should’ve known that Bucky would catch on.

“Not drinking tonight, huh?” He asked as he took a seat beside you on the couch. Steve and Sam set up a game table and were already a couple of drinks in. So were Sharon and Natasha. You weren’t worried about them though. They could hold their liquor.

But can I hold my tongue if I drink? Or am I using that as an excuse?

“Not tonight,” you replied, holding up your cup of water. “Sticking with water.”

“You’re acting like we need a designated driver when we’re not going anywhere,” he joked, throwing his arm around behind the cushion, the same way he had at the dinner table. “Afraid I’ll kick your ass in Mario Kart if you get a little tipsy?” He asked, grinning when you smiled. “We can have a tournament? Just the two of us?”

“Hey, one of us might need to go on a liquor or snack run. You never know,” you said, setting your water on the table before you sank into the couch. “And it isn’t exactly a tournament if only two people are playing, is it?”

“It can be. We make our own rules,” he smiled as he moved a little closer. “Remember the time we had a tournament? We went to that shady looking liquor store after Sam spilled the last bottle of rum. The guy behind the counter had a bunch of clown masks.”

You laughed a little. How could you forget? “Yes! We had to open the living room window so we could breathe. And the cashier was actually a sweet guy, but you glued yourself to my side before that because you were certain the guy had bad intentions,” you said. Bucky and his protective streak made you feel important.

Until you weren’t.

Bucky must’ve noticed the change in your demeanor since he stopped chuckling. “Seriously though. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”

“I feel fine. I just don’t need to drink tonight,” you said, touched that he showed concern for you before a weird expression crossed his face. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No. You’re, um,” he tapped a finger on his knee as he tried to find the words. “There isn’t a specific reason you aren’t, is there? You're not…” he trailed off, but his eyes drifted long enough to your torso to fill in the blank.

You never understood the expression about eyes widening to the size of saucers until you experienced it just then. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?” You whispered, careful not to speak any louder than that. The last thing you needed was the group questioning why Bucky asked such a question. “If so, the answer is NO.”

The sigh of relief Bucky let out, you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Sorry. I'm sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation for why you aren’t drinking. I just. I don't know why my mind went there.”

You couldn’t exactly tell him you're worried about getting plastered and revealing how you felt about him. Drunk confessions worked for some, but you didn’t think the odds were in your favor. “I still can’t believe you asked that,” you half teased, pointing at your stomach. “Not to mention, I haven’t been laid in ages. So, unless it happens via immaculate conception, that’s never going to be the case.”

The odd expression was back on Bucky’s face. What was his deal? “When was the last time you went on a date?” He asked with more interest than you expected.

“Months ago. Minimum,” you said, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to recall the exact day. “His name was Nick. We went on a few dates and he was nice enough, but he ended up getting serious with someone else. Haven’t gone on another date since.”

The clench in Bucky’s jaw almost made you smile. He had no reason to look so upset on your behalf. “I’m sorry. It’s his loss.”

“Don’t be. I’m kind of used to it,” you said with a nonchalant shrug.

“What the hell does that mean?” He asked, facing you on the couch and blocking the view of your friends at the table. “What exactly are you used to?”

Why does he sound upset? It's not like I’m not his girl.

“It means I’m used to guys not picking me,” you said honestly. As much as it hurt to think that way, saying it didn’t hurt as badly. “Think about it, Bucky. In all the time you’ve known me, when have guys ever flocked to me? When have you ever seen a guy take a chance on me when Natasha and Sharon were there? They haven’t and that’s just the way it is.”

“That’s bullshit. You’re perfect. And maybe people do see you, but you don’t see them,” he argued, quickly closing his mouth when he saw your expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant,” you said, sitting up to put some distance between the two of you as hurt filled his eyes. “I see just fine, thanks, but please enlighten me. Who saw me? Who did I overlook? I’d love an example.”

There was no reason to get so defensive, but did he understand how you felt? People gravitated toward Bucky and your friends. They always had. You, on the other hand, were on the outside of the house looking in. It was tiring to be the one knocking on the door.

“What about your old friend, TJ? You’re telling me he didn’t see you?” He asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. It wasn’t a tone you heard from him before. It didn't suit him.

“TJ?” You asked, confusion written all over your face that you couldn’t fake if you tried. “TJ Hammond? My old family friend? Um, no, he definitely doesn’t see me.”

Not even close.

“He stayed at your place after Steve’s party,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. “Bet he couldn’t wait to see you. Probably went over the second you got back from the trip.”

Wait, is he jealous? What the hell?

You laughed a little, unable to help yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he did stay at my place for a bit after Steve’s birthday bash a couple of years ago. He had an issue with his boyfriend.”

Bucky did a double take, which would’ve been humorous if not for the stricken look on his face. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The guy he dated at the time was a HUGE asshole and they had a falling out. His parents refused to let him go back home, so he stayed with me. And I couldn’t kick him out. He needed a friend,” you said, your brows pinching when you recalled how TJ cried on your sofa. It was a heartbreaking sight. “He has a new boyfriend now who treats him well and he couldn’t be happier. And I couldn’t be happier for him.”

Bucky blinked a few times. “So, you two. You never…?”

“TJ and I? No. Never dated, hooked up, anything,” you smiled with a shake of your head. “We adore each other, but in a brother and sister kind of way. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Even if I did find him attractive, nothing ever would’ve happened. You, Steve, Sam, you guys are much more his type.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, his face a bit pale. You worried for a second that he was going to get sick. “I thought you two hooked up,” he said more to himself than to you.

Where the hell did he get that impression?

“No, we didn't and we never will,” you said again before something he said dawned on you. “Wait, how did you know he stayed at my place? He asked me not to tell anyone where he was and I respected his wishes.”

Going through the dates again in your head, it wasn’t long after TJ stayed with you that Bucky brought Dot around as his new girlfriend. You knew you lost your chance to admit your feelings because he had someone by his side. Someone who wasn’t you.

“Come with me,” Bucky said, taking your hand and pulling you up from the couch before you had a chance to argue. It was hard to keep up with his long strides and he didn’t look back when Steve called after the two of you.

“What’s going on?” You asked as he pulled you outside and slammed the door. You watched as he took a few breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. “Talk to me, please.”

“I wasted two years,” he whispered, tilting his head to look at the sky. “Two fucking years.”

What is he talking about?

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“I made a huge mistake and I regret it,” he said, squeezing your hand as he faced you. “And I can't go the rest of this week without telling you. I wasted enough time.”

“Tell me what? Bucky, what did you do?”

And can we come back from it?

That literary edging. I'm sorry! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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tiredfox64 · 5 months

Note

Hello!! I love your fics and have a small request!

Is there any way you could do a pt.2 to "Thick thighs can save lives" and make it nsfw? I loved that fanfic sm when I originally read it! I love chubby reader stuff. I'm chubby myself soo!! Eee!!

I loved your fics sm. Keep up the good work!!

Thick Thighs Call for Good Times

Prior notes: Y E S! We big girls need our lovin. I went too crazy I think because Bi-Han got me all hot and bothered. I blame ███████ for my addiction to him.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Chubby! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, Overstimulation, creampies, oral sex (fem receive), we ride…Bi-Han…rhymes with dawn if you say it a certain way

You never left the Lin Kuei. You never left Bi-Han. Bi-Han was never letting you go. That’s just how the cookie crumbles.

It was clear to Liu Kang that he wasn’t getting his apprentice fully back. So a compromise was made. You stayed with Bi-Han and Liu Kang would come to you to actually train you since Bi-Han wasn’t letting you train with anyone else. As long as you stay near him he’s fine with this arrangement.

The Lin Kuei treated you much better than when you first arrived. That might be because it’s clear that a relationship was established, at least in Bi-Han’s perspective. You followed his lead and figured he wanted a relationship. It would be awkward if he didn’t want a relationship while he’s constantly trying to cuddle you and give you a little smoochy smooch.

The clinginess didn’t get better. That man had his hands all over you, squishing and squeezing anywhere he could. On a calm day he would only be squishing your stomach as you guys would lie down or if he had you in his lap. The frisky days, as you called them, were much more risqué. Chest, thighs, ass, if he could grab it he would.

The first time he ever grabbed your breasts it was a mind blowing experience. He was tempted by you. You were wearing a tank top after training for a bit. Of course no tank top could ever handle the size of your chest but you couldn’t care, you were hot. Bi-Han saw how your breasts would jiggle with every step. He came up behind you and gave you a hug which you gladly accepted, appreciating his cold skin against your burning skin. Then his hands grabbed at your chest. It wasn’t harsh but it definitely wasn’t a gentle grab. He wanted you to know what he wanted.

“Really?! You’re not gonna say anything to me? Just grab my tits like that?” You questioned Bi-Han but he didn’t care.

You’re not pushing him away so it’s fine. You did expect him to do it one of these days. That day was the day.

“They are nice. They fit so perfectly in my hands.” He looked very intently at his fingers as they squeezed down on your breasts.

He liked the way they bounced back. He liked how they felt in his hands and how they had weight to them.

He wanted a better feel and tried to slip his hands under your tank top before you slapped them away. He was ready to ravish you on a Tuesday afternoon, the sun was still out! He needed to learn some patience. Cause you sure as hell ain’t doing anything in his office when someone could easily walk in.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Day after day he was trying to grab you in other places. It was difficult to have time to yourself. He even tried following you into the bathing area which you had to physically throw him out. We love a strong woman.

Oh and forget getting out of bed. No, he kept you close to his chest with one arm around your waist and a hand at your breasts.

None of these instances ever led to anything more. You would put a stop to it for multiple reasons. You were too tired, you need to wash up, you’re on your period, you weren’t even in bed. Bi-Han respected your rejection but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting sexually frustrated. He can’t keep using his hands when he has you right in his grasp.

Truth be told you were still a little insecure about your looks. Clearly Bi-Han loves your body but that nagging voice inside your head says he won’t like you anymore once he sees you naked. You still wanted to hide your lovely rolls and stretch marks from him.

You do realize Bi-Han can handle it, right? Don’t doubt him.

You didn’t like this nagging voice. It’s preventing you from being yourself and expressing some wonderful things. You do want to have sex with Bi-Han. It’s a desire you must fulfill but one that will only happen once you start giving some love to yourself. So what better way to feel better about your body than looking pretty.

On a day when you weren’t training you decided to dress all pretty. A cute skirt with some knee high socks and a long sleeve v-cut shirt. Ooh girl, don’t you look all cute. You better work it! But only work it for Bi-Han, no one else.

You went around looking for Bi-Han, catching the attention of a few clansmen. When you found him he was watching over his clan as they trained. You wrapped your arms around his arm to get his attention. Bi-Han was gonna give you just a glance before he snapped his neck back to look at you. Your chest was squishing against his arm with the shirt showing your cleavage. When he looked down further he could see that you were showing some skin since you were wearing a skirt. Damn you look so adorable to him…and fuckable.

He didn’t say a word to anyone. He just grabbed you and threw you over his shoulders while making his way to the bedroom. You got used to him doing that but you weren’t used to the speed he was going at. He was practically pushing people out of the way before going into the bedroom. He locked the door and threw you on the bed gently. You weren’t all that surprised he did that but what surprised you was how he towered over you and what he had to say.

“Is this what you were planning? You were planning to get my attention by wearing that outfit. Bet you were hoping I would take you right then and there in front of everyone.”

Oh that’s not—no, that’s not what you were planning…

“What?! No! That’s not at all what I was planning-“ you were cut off when you hear the sound of cloth ripping.

Bi-Han tore your underwear off. The air hit your already wet pussy. His arms hooked onto your thighs before he yanked you closer to the edge of the bed where he was now kneeling. His lips practically grazed your clit. Next thing you know his tongue took a long drag up before swirling around your clit. You immediately gasped and your instinct was to close your legs.

Your thighs started to squeeze Bi-Han’s head. That was incredibly to him. Feeling those soft yet strong legs of yours squeezing him, possibly even suffocating him. Suffocation won’t make him stop eating you out. In fact, it makes it even better.

He would push his tongue inside you as his nose would bump into your clit. The taste of you would hit his tongue, causing him to want more and more. Occasionally his tongue would slip out and circle your clit as if it were candy to him. And you’re just supposed to stay there and look all pretty for him as you moan. Don’t think about pushing his head away he will not budge. He’s not done getting a taste of you and preparing you for more to come.

You didn’t realize how long it’s been since you satisfied yourself in any way. Ever since you came to the Lin Kuei you haven’t had the chance to masturbate. Meaning you were already so sensitive when he started going down on you. He could tell since you are already struggling to hold your moans in. He could feel your pussy clench around his tongue, letting him know you were about to cum. His tongue went back to your clit where he licked it continuously. It was his goal to make you cum and get more of your taste. He achieved his goal quickly.

You couldn’t hold back your moans. They weren’t loud but could easily be heard if someone were to pass by the bedroom door. Your thighs tightened around his head as if you were worried he would pull away if you didn’t keep him in place. That orgasm high was glorious. Wow, you feel amazing.

Bi-Han let go of your legs before standing up again. You watched as he licked his lips to collect the rest of your juices.

“Take your clothes off…now.” He demanded.

Oh you didn’t think that was the end right?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

He wanted you to be all sensitive and ready for him. Bi-Han has been waiting for this moment for way too long.

Your clothes were now on the ground and so was his. He didn’t even give you time to take off your knee high socks before he grabbed you and forced you on your stomach.

Bi-Han had a nice grip on your love handles. That’s what he loves about a body like yours. You are built to be loved and to make love. He held your lower half up while your face was down in the sheets. Your hands were gripping the sheets tightly as he slammed into you.

You didn’t see how big his cock was but you could definitely feel it. So thick and surprisingly the only warm part of his body. Or maybe that was your pussy warming it up, you can’t tell with the only thing in your mind being the pleasure that was pulsating through you. You didn’t even realize you were crying from the overstimulation.

Bi-Han could say the same about you. Your pussy was so warm and it squeeze him so nicely. He felt like you were made to be fucked by him. It just feels right.

The view he was getting was fantastic too. Watching his cock go in and out with your wetness coating it. Every time he thrusted into you he would watch your ass jiggle. And when you turned your head to the side he could see how your tears stained your cheeks. You looked so pretty like that. He leaned his body forward till his chest was pressed against your back.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle being loved by your grandmaster. I thought you were a strong woman.“ Bi-Han teased you.

You wanted to say something back but you couldn’t make out anything. You needed to catch your breath but it felt like there was no break in his stride. Just that constant rough rhythm. It only became worse, or more like pleasurable, when Bi-Han placed his leg up on the bed. When he thrusted back in, you moaned loudly. This new angle allowed him to go deeper into you. Not just that but he was stretching you out more.

You were a crying, drooling, moaning mess below him. His cock slammed deep into you. You were done for. The overstimulated combined with the deeper penetration made you cum all over his cock. You shook and your hands gripped the sheets so tightly that your knuckles became pale. The moans you let out were definitely heard by everyone.

Luckily for you, Bi-Han was just as close as you were. He fucked you through your orgasm before his hit. Your love handles were definitely getting bruised because he was squeezing them harshly while he was cumming inside you. You felt a warmness that filled you. It will be a feeling you will never forget.

You two stayed in that position for a few moments as you caught your breath. You were all hot and you felt disheveled. Bi-Han pulled out, making you whimper from feeling somewhat empty now. He got onto the bed and laid down in his usual spot on the bed. And then he grabbed you!

You thought this was over? Hah! Not for that man!

He grabbed you and made you sit on top of him. You were confused on what he was doing. At this point you should be cuddled to sleep. But he looked up at you and commanded you to do something else.

“Ride me. Make me cum one more time then we will be done.”

You got nervous. Not that you were afraid to do this all over again but that he would be seeing the front of your body. You tried to cover your body with your arms.

“Are you sure you want me to ride you? Maybe you could fuck me from-“

“I want to watch you ride me. I want to see my beautiful woman please me.”

Bi-Han was dead serious. He wanted to watch you not just to see how you reacted to being overstimulated but to see your body as a whole. This was the first time he was truly seen you naked. He wanted to see those gorgeous, round breasts. He wanted to see that cute tummy of yours. He wants to hold those powerful, thick thighs. He wanted it all. He wants you.

Hearing him call you beautiful and hearing how serious he was made your stomach do a flip. You lowered your arms, exposing yourself to him. You did as he wanted. You lifted yourself up a little, angled his hard cock near your hole, then slowly slid down on it.

You both let out a satisfied sigh. You might like this position a lot. It feels like he is really deep inside you. You don’t know if you could keep yourself going but you try.

You start bouncing up and down on his cock, hearing the mixture of your wetness and his cum making sounds every time you move. Bi-Han’s eyes looked at how your body jiggled whenever you slid back down. Your breasts bounced a lot. They called to him and his hands traced up your body till they got to your breasts. He squeezed and played with them. He pinched your nipples lightly and heard your reaction to that. Everything he did you had a clear reaction to.

Tears formed in your eye once again as the pleasure became too much. You were looking down at Bi-Han with half-lidded, glossy looking eyes. They were so beautiful to him. He could get lost in them. But for now his mind was lost to the feeling of your pussy squeezing him constantly. He saw that you were getting sluggish with your movements. He can’t blame you, this was a lot for you to handle. He pulled you close to him. Your chest was pressed against his. He looked into yours eyes and said,

“I’ll take care of this. Just relax and kiss me.”

You listened and started to kiss him. His arms wrapped around your waist and he held you tightly. His hips started thirsting into you. You moaned against his lips while he groaned. Your tears slipped down your cheeks as the pleasure came to a peak once again.

You moaned out loud as you came again. You didn’t try kissing him to keep yourself quiet. You felt like you had no control over your actions in this moment. A few more thrusts and Bi-Han came inside you once again. You must have been filled to the brim with his cum at this point.

Once the high started to dissipate you were left lying on top of him. He held you in his arms and his cock grew soft inside you. His hands were rubbing your back and running through your hair. You could have passed out in that moment if he didn’t start talking again.

“You seemed to like that a lot. I can’t understand why you were so hesitant before.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t like my body.” You responded in a sleepy voice.

“That is idiotic of you to think.” And that was rude of you to say, Bi-Han.

“You are beautiful in many ways. I was a fool to think you were weak before. You are strong and that is what I like in a woman. You are not only strong but gorgeous with a perfect body to love. I would not want to share my affection with anyone else.” He whispered to you.

You were surprised, truth be told. Bi-Han’s words sounded genuine. Your heart warmed up to the fact that he really did love you and your body. Now you felt silly for being worried before.

“You are the only woman I need now. You are my type. Now rest, you must be exhausted.”

Bi-Han placed a kiss on your forehead as his thumb wiped away any stray tears that were still on your cheek. You started to fall asleep with a light smile on your face. This was a wonderful experience for you and Bi-Han. Now you get to rest in his loving and strong arms.

Sweet dreams, gorgeous. Remember your worth.

After notes: My bestie sent me this, this is so me fr fr. Felt like it fits in.

333 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 8 months

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Can We Start Over | Ch. 5 The Coincidence

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 5. Summary: Things have changed for you and Harry but when you see him at a meeting, you are taken by surprise. It feels like destiny. Maybe this time things will work out for you two.

A/N: This is the final part to this series! Thank you everyone who stuck with the story and gave it a shot! Appreciate all the love!

Word Count: 12.7k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, smut, fluff

Can We Start Over? masterlist

Mr. Allen was on the phone again. He’d called you into his office but the moment you stepped in he got a call and told you to sit and wait. That it would only be a minute.

And it was only a minute. But then he got another call and now it was 23 minutes later while he was still yammering about some person who was just the worst.

You were used to it, though. Mr. Allen was retired so nothing was a rush for him anymore. Which also meant he held other people up. But waiting for your boss was the least of your worries.

His wife and her ever-changing personality was your biggest concern. She was, to put it mildly, a monster. And to make matters worse, she ran the whole household so you were often seeking her out for things. Mrs. Allen also handled her husband’s schedule and if he was running behind guess who got the blame. That’s right. You did. Every time.

And it was the same thing over and over again. You started your day trying to keep Mr. Allen up to task, failed, got reprimanded and degraded by a nasty human, held back tears and then took a long drive with loud music to clear your head with a quick stop for dinner, probably at a drive-through.

Needless to say, you were already planning on quitting. You’d gotten really lucky with Alfred. And even working with Harry hadn’t been as bad as it was working for Mrs. Allen and her husband. But you tried not to think about Harry if you could help it.

By the time Mr. Allen got off the phone he was running late for his physical therapy appointment. You got him moving along quickly and sent him on his way but not before Mrs. Allen started poking around and making comments under her breath.

“What was that?” You turned to look behind yourself at the wicked witch as she stood near the edge of the foyer.

“He’s late again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That is correct.”

She rolled her eyes, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant who can’t even keep the boss on schedule?”

You smiled, holding back your true thoughts, “Well, being as my job description doesn’t entail using physical force on the boss, which is what it would take to get Mr. Allen to keep on time for anything, I’m certain you’ll find that once again, this isn’t my responsibility.”

“Lazy,” she spoke under her breath.

You tilted your head and squinted your eyes at her, “That’s the last thing I am. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday is over. Have a good evening.”

You walked past her to go into your room to pack up your laptop and leave. You’d stay at your own place that night. You hated staying at the Allen’s house. Not only was the room they’d given you a tiny spec of a thing with no windows, no closet, and not even a single rug to cover the cold tile floors but being anywhere near Mrs. Allen made your skin crawl.

“I don’t know why we bother with the room for you,” she was standing in the doorway when you turned around.

“You really didn’t bother much with the room in the first place. That’s why I don’t stay here. My house has a better bed with a big window looking into my backyard. I just feel better in my own bed at night.”

You walked past her and held your breath so as not to inhale her disgusting, pungent perfume. You used to like the scent she wore. But now you loathed it. Whenever you smelled it, even on another woman, it made you queasy. You very much did not like Mrs. Allen.

You turned up the volume on your car radio the moment your front tires hit the road. You always looked forward to going home after work. This day wasn’t as bad as you’d had before and tomorrow you’d do it all over again.

And instead of stopping at a drive-through for fast food, you decided you’d stop at the grocery store and pick up ingredients to actually make something fresh.

Typically you didn’t cook. You didn’t have time for it. Picking up groceries would put you home at almost 8 pm. And then you still needed to cook so you wouldn’t be eating until close to 9 and then you could finally relax with a glass of wine and a good book or something trashy on television. Which was why drive-throughs were your go-to dinner plans. It meant you were home by 7:30 and dinner was already cooked. Not the best use of money and certainly not the healthiest way to live but you wouldn’t be doing it much longer.

You had a meeting to attend with Mr. and Mrs. Allen the following week that piqued your interest. It was for a piece of art that they’d been looking for. And someone found it for them. From an art dealer who was not too far away. You didn’t know for sure but you had a feeling. And you wanted to find out if that feeling was right.

Maybe you were a masochist and just wanted to pour salt onto the wound of your split open heart one more time. Or maybe you did have some hope that it was Harry and that maybe you could try and receive his feelings for you once and for all.

But it’d been just over 9 months since you’d seen him and you were sure he’d moved on by now. There would be no reason for him to still be pining over you the way you were over him. And what were the chances that it was him in the first place? You didn’t know but you needed to find out.

Yeah. You regretted what you’d done. Pushing him away like that. But once you’d done it, it felt like it was too late to go back. Maybe it was your pride. Or that little voice in the back of your head that told you men always leave and they always lie. That anyone that might love you would probably just disappoint you in the end.

But now you were in therapy and talking to someone opened your eyes to your self-sabotaging ways. You had been certain that the way you felt couldn’t be helped. That you were a prisoner to your trauma and all the hurt and that it was for the best. You’d been wrong, though. You could help the way you processed feelings and the way you responded when things got hard. You didn’t have to push away the notion that a man could love you or keep running away from your problems.

After picking up ingredients to make a nice little dinner for yourself you arrived at your cute house.

You loved the place. Loved the neighborhood. You found it a few weeks after you told Harry to leave your apartment. It wasn’t that far from your old place but you felt like it was good enough for a new start. At the time, you were ready to take the plunge. To move on. It was just a rental but it felt like your own place.

Though, not long after moving in you started feeling like getting rid of every trace of Harry had been a bad idea. You missed him. However, you didn’t recognize how you were feeling for him until you began therapy. The more you spoke honestly about everything and without any judgment, you began to peel off layers of yourself that you had unconsciously piled on to protect yourself. But that only wound up making things worse.

And one night, almost six months since you’d seen him, you decided to drive past his big, gated home. You still had the fob to his entry but of course, you wouldn’t use it. You only wanted to just drive past. To your surprise, there was a For Sale sign stuck in the grass in front of the gate.

You parked across from the house and tried to see if there was anything that indicated he’d actually moved out but seeing inside was impossible. You could see the top level of the house and that was really it.

The sinking feeling in your chest that you’d probably never see him again started to settle over you slowly. You’d moved away and blocked him from everything and then deleted his contact and now he was no longer living in the only place you knew where he might be. He was gone.

But then when you helped set up the meeting with the art dealer there was the smallest tinge of hope there. You felt like this might be your last chance. You had just been about to quit when Mrs. Allen gave you the number to an assistant of a dealer who had access to a painting they wanted. You never learned the name of the art dealer, only of the assistant who worked for them.

So you’d stick it out until after the meeting and then you’d give up your hope for ever seeing Harry again if it wasn’t him. And you’d also quit your job once and for all.

Of course, it’s not him. Don’t get your hopes up.

You had to remind yourself of that over and over again. The chances were slim that you would actually be seeing Harry.

Either way, you were looking forward to that meeting. Even if it wasn’t Harry, you’d be free of Mr. and Mrs. Allen once and for all after you quit.

But the days dragged on slowly. The only thing that was good about the time that led up to the meeting was the little secret that you were quitting. It was something you were excited about.

The morning of the meeting you woke up well before your alarm went off. You’d been unable to fall back asleep as you remembered the last time you and Harry slept together. The words he spoke to you that night haunted you every day since, “Want to make you feel so good. Want to make you smile, Y/n. Want to make you happy.”

You sighed. You hoped it was him at the meeting. You hoped there was still some way to salvage what you’d done. Hoped there was still something there. If it was him, that is.

Your entire morning routine had turned into a spa event. You turned on your coffee pot and then got into the shower, getting yourself ready for the possibility of anything and everything. You had selected your outfit days prior and put on a full face of makeup. You were going to look your absolute best.

And no matter what the outcome of the meeting was, today was a good day. Because at the end of it, you’d be a free woman. You’d never again step foot in the Allen house. You took all of your belongings from the spec of a bedroom over a few days so no one would notice. You rarely stayed over anyway so it wasn’t like you needed to keep much there in the first place.

You had a taxi take you to the Allen’s on that day. Because your plan was to quit the moment the painting was purchased and you weren’t going to be going back to their house with them after the meeting just to get your car. You’d get a taxi home. It was quite dramatic but you couldn’t wait to quit. Couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Allen you were done and then walk off. Only a few more hours.

When you arrived at the Allen’s your first stop was the kitchen to make Mr. Allen’s coffee (skim milk and stevia) and Mrs. Allen’s chai green tea with raw honey. This was always the best part of your day. Things were usually quiet, Mrs. Allen wasn’t raging just yet, and the morning light that came into their gorgeous kitchen felt peaceful. While the coffee was perking you brought Mrs. Allen her tea drink where you knew you’d find her and placed it down on its coaster next to her. As usual, she did not acknowledge your existence or even say thank you.

Mr. Allen was always cordial, however.

“Morning Mr. Allen. Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank you, Y/n. Have you seen my wife this morning?”

You smiled and stood next to his desk, “I just gave her some tea. Why?”

“I think she wanted to make sure we had wire information set up to pay for the painting today. She’s very set on making the purchase. Can you double-check we have everything we need?”

“I’m certain we have everything we need but I’ll definitely do a quick check.”

As you suspected, everything was ready to go. When you confirmed as much you went to find Mrs. Allen to tell her.

“Mr. Allen told me you wanted to make sure the wire instructions were ready and I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got everything we need and it’s all ready to go for when it comes time to pay.”

“Good. Now,” she turned to look at you, “this is a meeting we cannot be late for so I’d appreciate it if you could have everything ready for us so there are no delays. I don’t want any excuses.”

You nodded, stifling the small laugh before it could make it out of your mouth, “Of course, Mrs. Allen.”

But as always, Mr. Allen was dawdling. You did remind him of the meeting but he assured you he was going to be on time. He wasn’t. You weren’t surprised.

When it was time to leave he was still in his office in his slippers on his third cup of coffee talking to his brother about sports.

“I told you this is a meeting we cannot be late for. This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Allen was red in the face as she barked at you. Somehow, she always seemed shocked when her husband held things up. You didn’t know how it was possible that she was so surprised.

You blinked your eyes and sighed, “He doesn’t need to be at the meeting with us. I say we just go. He’ll be fine here by himself.”

She nodded and mumbled under her breath about your incompetence, “Tell him we’re leaving without him. I’m going to get the driver to pull the car around.”

You poked your head into the office and waved at Mr. Allen and he pulled the phone from his ear to look at you with his brows raised. As if he didn’t know what was going on.

“We’re going to leave now for the painting. You can stay behind. No need for you to be there. Okay?”

He smiled at you and nodded before getting back to his call. You knew he didn’t care. This painting wasn’t for him. It was for Mrs. Allen. It was something she’d been wanting. She’d just hang it up alongside the rest of her collection of exotic animal paintings and artwork.

The car ride was silent. Which you preferred. You tried not speaking to Mrs. Allen when you could help it. Luckily she wasn’t interested in having a conversation with you.

And 30 minutes later when you arrived, your mind was swirling with thoughts of what could happen and what probably wouldn’t.

Your nerves were all over the place. If you were about to walk into a room with Harry Styles, being nervous was warranted. You hadn’t seen his handsome face in so long and wanted so badly for it to be him.

It was unlikely. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. No reason to get your hopes up.

You and Mrs. Allen got out of the car once the driver had let you both out at the front.

It was a public gallery so everyone could just walk in to admire the art. You noticed there were people inside looking at the sculptures and paintings as you followed behind Mrs. Allen toward the desk at the side of the room where a young woman sat.

“Hi. I’m Delia Allen here for a meeting to view the Ghaui piece.”

The young woman smiled widely, “Yes. Of course! Just follow me. We have it moved into a special viewing room just for you.”

If there was ever a moment in your life where you thought that one small step toward a physical room could forever change your life, it was this. What if he was there? What if he wasn’t?

The gallery wasn’t a large space but there were temporary walls placed around the room to act as dividers and a spot for more art to hang. You wove around the walls and into a hallway where the young woman stepped into a room with Mrs. Allen just behind her. You paused for a moment before stepping inside. This was it. It either was or it wasn’t.

Placing your hand on the frame of the door and taking a deep breath you breached the space to enter the viewing room and found that there was no one else inside. It was the painting that Mrs. Allen had been so keen on buying, hung up with lights aimed at it, a table and chairs.

You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. You imagined someone would be inside the room waiting for you.

“The dealer will be right in. He’s finishing up something with someone else. Five minutes tops.”

The painting was of elephants in an African wildlife scene. It wasn’t your taste but you had to respect Mrs. Allen for her interests. If there was anything about her you could say you liked, it was her love of animals and how much support she’d given African wildlife sanctuaries. She’d also gone on many safaris (without Mr. Allen you learned) and helped fund conservation parks that helped employ people and protect the land and animals. Honestly, when you found out this was her thing you felt like you were looking at a different woman.

She was still a bitch, though.

“I thought this meeting was set up and ready to go, Y/n,” she turned to look at you. As if somehow the dealer running late was your fault.

“It is set and ready. The girl said the dealer would be right in. We just need to wait a couple of minutes.”

You didn’t look at her face as you responded. You were done looking at her face. After this meeting, you’d never have to look at it again.

“Sergi could’ve come if I knew this was going to happen.”

You rolled your eyes, back facing her as you looked over the lines and the paint on the canvas. It was a well-done piece of art.

When the door opened only a moment later you felt your heart stop for a split second, a chill ran down your face, over your shoulders, and through your spine as you slowly turned around when Mrs. Allen spoke, “Finally.”

Your vision grew spotty, like tiny particles floating around and mixing up the scene before you. Fuzzy like a grey screen on a television. You blinked your eyes to clear your sight as you looked at him for the first time in over 9 months. It was him.

And his reaction to you appeared much the same, with him pausing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“Hello? Are you the dealer?” Mrs. Allen was great at ruining a moment.

Harry’s eyes blinked as he shook his head and finally peeled his sight from you to look at the other woman in the room. He cleared his throat, closing the door behind himself, and stepped forward to Mrs. Allen with his hand out, “Yes. I’m the dealer. Harry Styles,” he shook her hand and then shot his eyes back to you, taking in your outfit quickly before moving toward you, his hand outstretched in silence.

You hadn’t moved from your spot next to the painting. You hadn’t closed your mouth or peeped a single word because you couldn’t. And even though you had a feeling that it was him before the meeting ever took place, the surprise and shock you felt was overwhelming.

It was really him. It was Harry. And you couldn’t believe it was him.

You placed your hand in his to shake and the moment was eternity. Your eyes pinned together, palms warm to the touch, searching gazes, and a million little thoughts dancing around your heads. It was real. He was real. You were real. The moment was real.

But of course, as Mrs. Allen tended to do she interrupted the odd reunion and began speaking, “Please go over the details with me. I think I’d like to know a little more and then we can talk price.”

Harry’s adam’s apple bobbed as he released your hand and straightened his posture and he handed a folder to Mrs. Allen and began to go over everything she might want to know.

Your heart was racing and you were unable to listen to anything he said regarding the painting. It all sounded like gibberish to you but you could hear his smooth deep voice as he spoke, and the occasional glance in your direction had your skin sparking in delight.

“Earth to Y/n,” Mrs. Allen waved her hand in front of your face and you slowly drifted from your reverie back to reality and looked at her.

“Jesus, it’s like herding cats with you,” she pointed, “Let’s get this part ready. Open your laptop.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop, placing it on the table so you could begin the wire payment. You looked from Mrs. Allen to Harry and then back to your screen as the bank sight loaded.

Of course, you had to log in and the internet connection wasn’t as fast as you’d have liked so Mrs. Allen let out an annoyed sigh.

“Always like this with her,” she looked at Harry with her arms crossed, “Slow. Lazy–“

“Are you serious?” Harry sounded perturbed. Aghast.

You looked from him to Mrs. Allen and the look on his face matched the sound of his voice as he looked at her with disdain.

“Of course I am. You don’t know her so you have no idea what–“

“I do actually know her,” he glanced at you softening his gaze. “Don’t speak about her that way or the deal is off.”

You blinked and smiled gently as you opened up the bank wire screen.

“What? You can’t treat me like this. I’m a paying client. I will walk out of here without this painting if you dare–“

“Then leave.” He looked at her with his brows raised in a dare.

She huffed and clutched her purse, “Fine. Just… do the deal, Y/n. I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom and get some air. When I return I want this to be over with.”

She walked out of the room and slammed the door rudely and Harry stepped in front of the computer as you looked up at him, “Y/n. I can’t believe it’s you. Are you working for her?”

You stood up straight and nodded, “Yeah. It’s a disaster. I’m quitting as soon as this is over. It’s been my plan for a month.”

He smiled, “You’re quitting? Now?”

You nodded again, “Yes. As soon as this deal is complete I’m done.”

“Can I see you? Like, after this? Dinner maybe?”

You sputtered a tiny laugh. It was like music to your ears, “Okay. Why not?”

Harry grinned widely and pointed at the computer, “Let’s get this over with then. Push that payment through and let’s get out of here.”

There it was again, the blurred vision, grey and colored specs floating around you as if you were in the grey screen of a TV. You couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was only a dream. Perhaps you were about to wake up and it was all going to have been just a wild dream that you’d never recover from.

You called the bank with a smile on your face to begin the wire transfer. Everything was set as you entered the details into the account on your laptop and spoke with the representative.

But of course, there was one thing holding the whole thing up. Mrs. Allen had to be there to verbally give the go-ahead to the man on the phone. You were not authorized.

So when she came back to the room and the payment wasn’t yet completed she was furious, “How can you mess up the simplest things, Y/n?”

“All you need to do is tell the man this wire transfer from your bank to the owner’s is authorized. You’re holding this up. Not her,” Harry spoke.

She pulled the cell phone from you with a sigh and spoke into the receiver as you smiled at Harry.

“There. It’s done.” She handed the phone to you and the transaction was finalized. Emails went out to all the parties involved in the sale with the receipt and you closed your laptop.

“Good. Now, have someone wrap this so I can bring it back without getting scratched.”

Harry nodded, “I’ll have Laira get someone for you and they’ll bring it to your car.”

Mrs. Allen looked at you and snapped her fingers, “You can go wait in the car for me. No need to have you standing around and gawking like an idiot.”

You stuffed your laptop into your bag and looked at Mrs. Allen, “Delia?” You made it a point to call her by her first name, which you knew she hated, “I quit. Working for you has been hell. You’ll go home without me as I’ve already made other arrangements. Tell Mr. Allen it was lovely to work for him. I’ll send him an email explaining why I quit tomorrow. Also, the agency won’t work with you again after I share details and proof of the way you treated me.”

Her mouth dropped open and the look of surprise on her face was quite hilarious as you pushed passed her with Harry following behind you.

You felt exhilarated and your heart was pumping blood through your body and your limbs rapidly as you smiled and made your way to the front of the gallery.

Harry kept in step with you as he waved at the girl at the desk, “Please help Mrs. Allen get the painting wrapped and put into her car. I’m done for the day. Call me if you need anything.”

You felt the warm air hit your cheeks when you stepped outside into the sun with Harry behind you.

“Y/n, I’m still kind of in disbelief that you’re here. I must be dreaming,” he turned toward you with a wide grin.

“I feel the same way. Like I’m just going to wake up and it’s all been a dream.”

“Pinch me,” he put his arm out and pushed his shirt sleeve up to his forearm, displaying the tattoos on his skin.

You laughed and put your thumb and pointer over his skin and gave him a good pinch and he let out a deep breath, “Do it again.”

You couldn’t stop the small chuckle that fell from your lips as you pinched him again and he grabbed the tops of your arms tightly, “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted to talk to you so many times. I have so much to tell you.”

“Me too, Harry. There’s so much to say.”

He led you to his car and you both got inside. It felt so surreal to be climbing into Harry’s car with him, “Where would like to go eat?” He looked at you from the driver’s seat as he started up his car.

You shook your head, “I don’t know. Don’t care really.”

He nodded, “Yeah I don’t care either. Just as long as I get to go there with you. Okay, we’ll go to this spot I found some months ago. They have great crab cakes.”

When he pulled out to the street you looked at him, “New car then?”

He nodded, “Yeah. The lease came up on the other one and figured something different would be nice. I’ve had this for a few months.”

“And did you move?”

He licked his lips and glanced at you, “Yeah. Not long after you left. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. I… did a lot of thinking about what I want in life and how I want to live it. The place was too big. Not sustainable for me any longer. Too expensive.”

“Really? That’s surprising.”

He breathed out through his nose as he nodded, “I stopped dealing with stolen items. It was dumb of me to get involved in all that in the first place. I never started off being an art dealer with the idea that I would be wealthy. It began because I genuinely love the art world and discovering new pieces. I lost that somewhere along the way and you leaving like you did remind me of what was important in life. Money is not all there is.”

You were surprised to hear this. It made you wonder what else had changed.

The restaurant was a small, hip-looking spot. You had both arrived before the dinner crowd, it was still a bit early for dinner, but to you, it didn’t matter. You were with Harry again and even though you weren’t quite sure what to expect things were going better than you imagined.

You and Harry were seated at a small round table for two by a big window looking out over the parking lot. It wasn’t fancy but it felt amazing to get face to face with him after all that time.

“Y/n, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look incredible. I know I said it already but I really missed you. I hope you and I can keep in touch after this. If that’s something you wanted. It would mean so much to me to be able to see you again.”

You picked at the corner of the laminated menu that had been placed on the table in front of you and looked up at him, “Harry, I missed you a lot too. I regretted the way I ended things. Moving away and blocking you. I thought it was the right thing to do. I deleted every part of you from my life and by the time I realized it was a mistake I didn’t have your contacts anymore,” you shook your head as you looked into his eyes, “I’m sorry I did it that way. I’m sorry for walking away from you.”

Harry reached across the table and put his hand over yours, “I’m glad you did. Y/n, I don’t know if I would have had the kind of self-reflection and epiphany I did if you’d stayed. But you leaving like that made me rethink everything I thought was important. Made me realize that dealing in the black market and jet-setting all over the world to do something that goes against my very core… I hated it. I hated you leaving but it opened my eyes.”

“So you really don’t do any of that anymore?”

He shook his head, “No. Now I bounce around from gallery to gallery to view pieces and check the legitimacy, the provenance. I work for myself still but now I’m not making as much money. Which is fine!” He laughed, dimples digging into his cheeks, “It’s better this way. I sleep better knowing I’m doing things right now.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Like twenty minutes from here. Bought a regular-sized house with a garage and an ugly entryway,” he grinned, “But I love it. I love it because it makes me feel happy. It’s not so much to maintain. Had to let go of all the staff I had but other than that, I haven’t missed the income as much as I thought I would.”

You were impressed with him. You never imagined he’d stop dealing in illegal items because you knew the money was so good.

The waiter stood at your table and you both told him what you’d like to drink. A sparkling water with lemon for you, and a hot black tea for him.

“So you were working for that woman. She’s awful. How long did you stay with her?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I worked for the Allens for just over seven months. Hated every minute of it. She only got worse as time went on. I thought once she got used to me she’d lighten up be she was truly evil. Would just talk down to me and blame me for everything that went wrong.”

“Why did you stay there for so long?”

“At first I stayed hoping it would get better. You know you kind of get into a groove and can look past bullshit and then everyone starts to get used to one another. But that never happened. I tried to stick it out. But then of course I needed the money too. Well, on some level. The security of having a job is nice and the rent at my new house is a lot more than what I paid at my apartment. Figured I’d wait for the right moment. Then about a month ago I found out that Delia wanted to buy this piece of art she’d been wanting and she was going to go through a dealer and I was just about to quit. I really was but,” you shrugged and smiled as you looked down at the menu, “Though it would be funny if maybe you were the dealer,” you brought your eyes back up to him.

He squinted, his brows pulling in as he looked at you, “You continued working for them when you thought maybe I was going to be the dealer on the sale? So you could see me?”

You nodded and smiled, “I mean. Sort of. I really didn’t think it was going to be you but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just see. So I stuck it out. My plan was to quit the moment the deal was over. That’s why I was saying that at the gallery. It was like, one last thing, just to see if it was you and then I was done working for them.”

Harry laughed and pulled his lips into his mouth, shaking his head in amazement, “I can’t believe you wanted to see me. I was certain you were done and wanted nothing to do with me. I did go back to your apartment one day, maybe like two months later. But you’d already moved out. And you never responded to any of my texts or calls. Figured that was that. What made you want to see me?”

You tried not to feel bad how you ended things with him but it was hard not to, “I really did like you. It was just hard for me to admit how much. And then Brandy, my best friend, talked me into going to therapy. And honestly? Just talking about how I process things and my emotions with someone else helped me a ton. Helped me see how I self-sabotage. Anything that might make me happy, specifically romance, was a big block for me. I didn’t even realize it consciously. I think I knew I pushed people away when I didn’t need to. And I realized I did that with you.”

Harry nodded as he listened and the waiter placed your drinks down on the table before taking your orders for food.

It felt like you had so much to tell him and you could see Harry felt the same with everything he admitted to you. You loved listening to him and watching him as he spoke or the way he gazed at you as you recounted the last 9 months to him.

While so much did happen in those 9 months, you felt comfortable sitting at that small table talking to Harry about it all. Everything felt so familiar and nice with him. It felt like you were both exactly on the same page and this time around maybe you could really have something special with him. If he wanted the same thing as you.

“So you missed me? What did you miss about me?” Harry smirked at you as he took a scoop of the dessert you were both sharing.

“Hmm… I think I liked it when you were nice to me and vulnerable with me. Our late-night kitchen chats. How you took up for me with that one lady. And even today you did it again with Mrs. Allen. I think there were times when I hated you but mostly I liked you. And those things I missed.”

His smirk didn’t fall from his lips and it looked like he was holding back what he wanted to say.

“What? What’s that look?” You pointed your fork at him.

Harry laughed and looked down at the table before putting his eyes back on yours, “You didn’t miss… like my body or something?”

You laughed and grinned at him, “Oh my god, Harry,” you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I mean you have to admit, Y/n, we are very good together. Aren’t we? Like… just fit so well me and you.”

You inhaled and let your eyes trail over his features as you tried to keep the grin off your face.

“You’re insane.” You licked your lips.

“No, I’m not. You know it’s true. Tell me you’ve had better with anyone else and I’ll tell you you’re lying. You missed me but you also missed all those dirty little things I did to you.”

“You’re way too confident and cocky still,” you laughed.

“Am I?” His smile was something that always got you. The grin, the dimples, the crinkles at the edge of his eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? That I missed little Styles down there?” You sputtered a laugh.

“Little? Is that what you’d call it?” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward closer to you, “You said otherwise when–“

“Anything else for you two?” The waiter broke the tension as Harry shot his eyes up to the man.

“I think we’ll take the check. Thank you.”

You laughed as the server walked away and Harry cocked his head with that smirk still plastered on his face.

The sun was beginning to go down as the check was laid on the table and you insisted on splitting it with Harry. He grumped about you paying anything at all but you weren’t taking no for an answer.

You were surprised you’d been at the restaurant for so long. Hours had gone by but it didn’t feel that long because you two had so much to talk about. So much lost time to make up for.

“So where do you live, Y/n? Should I drop you off at home?”

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Not too far from here. Off Coalfax and the interstate. Do you want to drop me off?”

Harry’s smile softened, “I don’t want to drop you off. No. I want to continue this. I’m not ready for you to disappear again.”

Swallowing you reached your hand toward his and rubbed your fingers over his knuckles, “Then you don’t have to drop me off. Come with me. I’ll invite you in.”

Harry stood up quickly, taking your hand in his as you both walked to the exit and toward his car. You laughed as he pulled you along.

“Coalfax? Just North of here?” He spoke as he started up his car.

“Yeah. Exactly. You’ll take a right on Coalfax. I’ll tell you where to go.”

Harry kept glancing at you and the smile on his face stayed throughout the entire drive. You were sure he was feeling the kind of excitement you had bubbling in your tummy. Still not quite sure of what to expect but nearly certain of what could happen.

Maybe you were jumping in too fast but maybe… just maybe the timing was exactly right. You couldn’t tell but you weren’t going to let yourself overthink it. That wasn’t going to happen with you anymore. You already regretted too much of what had happened with Harry and this time would be different.

Harry parked his car on the street in front of your small house and you both walked up to your door, “You’ve still got the same car,” he noted.

“Yup. Runs well. No payment other than insurance. Cheap maintenance. I love the old thing. Hope I never have to get rid of it.”

Harry followed behind you through your front door and you switched on the light before you felt his hand tugging at yours.

You turned to face him and the reality of everything was clear suddenly. You’d reconnected with Harry. The one man you couldn’t stop thinking about. Couldn’t stop replaying his words to you, couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed you and took care of you.

“I can’t believe you’re standing here in my living room,” you smiled at him and Harry shook his head.

“I can’t believe I’m here either. I can’t believe I’m looking at you and that you were there today and…” he swallowed as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t want to scare you off, Y/n, but you have no idea how happy I am right now. How this all feels like destiny. Like we were meant to be here right now.”

You laughed through your nose, “I don’t really believe in stuff like that, but it doesn’t kind of feel that way, doesn’t it? Like another chance.”

He nodded, “Another chance. Exactly.”

“Do you want to sit? Or would you like some wine?”

Harry looked around the space of your living room. He hadn’t taken his surroundings in until then as he was too focused on you.

“Maybe a glass of wine. If it’s not too much trouble.”

You grinned, “Of course it’s not. Come. It’s in the kitchen.”

The light flickered on overhead as you flipped the switch and then opened your cabinet to retrieve the bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Y/n, this place is really nice. I like it.” Harry looked around as he spoke.

“I like it too. It’s why I moved here. Felt like home when I walked in to view it for the first time. It’s just a rental but it’s perfect for me.”

You placed the bottle on the counter and handed him a glass of wine.

Harry held his glass up, “Thank you for inviting me in and for humoring me with your kindness.”

You laughed, “Humoring you? Harry, I am fully genuine right now. I wanted to have dinner with you and I wanted you to come into my home. I’m not just being nice. I want you here.”

“I like hearing that.”

You both took a sip of your wine as Harry kept his eyes on you.

It was warm. Searing hot in fact. Harry was gorgeous and he was in your house and he was looking at you with those green eyes that had looked at you so many times before.

“Have you…” He paused as he placed his glass down and cleared his throat, “Have you seen anyone since? Like dated? Are you dating?”

You laughed at the way he fumbled his words. He seemed nervous suddenly, “No. I haven’t.” You placed your own glass down and suddenly felt that flutter of nerves, “And… I’m a little nervous to ask you the same.” You raised your brows at him.

He shook his head, “No.”

You nodded, “Surprised to hear that. But relieved I have to admit.”

“Why are you surprised?”

“Because I thought you’d have your pick. In fact even today when I thought there was a chance I might see you, felt like it was silly because surely you’d moved on and found someone.”

Harry’s brows stitched together, “I had a hard time feeling okay after that day when I left your apartment. Have actually never been so depressed and distraught over anyone before. I couldn’t just move on. Even when I started to feel a little better about it all. I just missed you so much. I know you blocked me on every platform out there. I got the hint when you didn’t text or call back. But I still missed you.”

You smiled, “And you’re not on social media at all. I did look but I kind of felt like if I did find you it wouldn’t have been good for me. I know I could have tried harder to reach out. I think I was a little scared of what I’d find.”

“What did you think you’d find?”

“That you were dating someone. I don’t know.”

The air shifted when Harry brought his hand up to your chin and gently gripped your face, “You’re the only woman I’ve had my mind on all these months. The only one I could ever think about. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your lips parted and you blinked your eyes as you took in his words.

“Do you understand what I mean? I don’t know if you feel the same way about me but just to know that you missed me and want me to be here with you right now means everything to me.”

“I don’t want anyone else either, Harry.”

“Does that mean you want me? I just need to hear it if it’s true, Y/n.”

You gulped and nodded, “Yeah. I do.”

The hand that held your chin released you and moved around to the back of your neck while his other hand landed on your hip and he pressed his lips to yours.

At last. At last.

You closed your eyes and drew your hands up to the back of his neck and moaned as he opened his mouth and you opened yours. Lips winding and smearing and pushing…

It felt like you were looking down at yourself, watching as you kissed Harry in your kitchen. And it was a beautiful sight. The two of you joined, grasping onto the other, hearts thrashing in your chests, bodies alight.

Harry’s grip on your side tightened, his fingers pinching around your clothes. The hand at the back of your neck squeezing and holding you in place as his lips slid against yours

You allowed yourself to be pulled in closer and moved your hand into his curls. You missed his scent. You missed his touch. His warmth. His care.

He parted from the kiss and moved his hand to your jaw, “Can we start over? This time, Y/n, you’re not going to regret it. This is it for us. Understand me?”

His words were almost a threat. Or maybe a promise. Both perhaps.

“Yes, Harry. I’m not going to regret it this time. I promise.”

He nodded, still holding you close, and then softly ghosted his lips over yours, “Because I can’t lose you again. I want this with you.”

You were gonna lose it. Everything was too much and not enough. You wanted him and you wanted to go slow but you wanted to tear his clothes off and feel him all over.

“I want you, Harry,” you breathed out against his lips as you clung to him, “I want this with you.”

You felt the vibration of his moan against your mouth as he dropped his lips to your chin and then along the curve of your jaw. When his lips pressed into the skin on your neck you gasped and hugged him tighter. His mouth drew your flesh in as he sucked a spot and then lowered to the curve of your shoulder and neck, suckling again at the skin where you knew it would be bruised.

“Fuck…” he whispered as he pressed his nose against your jaw, “Where’s your bedroom, Y/n?”

That was easy. The house was small. You led him down the hallway to your bedroom where you turned on your lamp and he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Take your clothes off.”

You were surprised by his sudden command but you didn’t want to ask questions. The only thing you wanted was him and his hands and his body…

You pulled off your top before unzipping your skirt and kicking it down your legs. Harry’s eyes were dark as he continued taking his clothes off while he watched you undress.

When you were only in your underwear and bra he pointed, “Off. All of it.”

You swallowed and did as he said. Taking your bra off first and then your panties slowly as you used your bed to keep balance.

Harry was left in only his boxer briefs as he stalked toward you like a predator. You’d seen him in action before, you’d seen him a little dominant but this was different. It was like he had something to prove.

“On the bed, Y/n.”

You gave him a curt nod and sat down before scooting back into your bed. He climbed between your legs and moved your thighs apart, “You want this right? You want me? Want us?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “Yes, Harry. I do.”

That seemed like all he needed to know before he finally placed his lips on your chubby thigh, dotting wet kisses down and toward the soft inside near to your crotch and then he switched to the other side, kissing upward gently as he looked at you and then gripped the back of your thighs to push your legs apart, switching his sight from your face to your pussy.

“Y/n I missed everything about you,” he lowered himself, putting his stomach down onto your bed as he held himself over your core, “I know I only had you twice like this but I missed your body. Your smell,” he let go of your left leg as he pressed his fingers onto your mound and slowly dragged them downward, “The way your thighs part and how your skin looks right here,” he pressed a kiss over the spot right next to your labia.

But then he pushed himself up and climbed over you releasing your leg, his hands finding your breasts, “Your perfect tits,” his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue laving over your sensitive bud and kissing over your soft skin toward your other side, lapping at your plush breasts before dragging his mouth upward to your neck, “Your skin, your voice,” hot peppered kisses up to your jaw until his mouth met yours again.

“Your mouth, this mouth,” he licked against your lips and pushed his mouth against the edge of yours and ran his nose against yours, “You. I missed you. Everything. Your heart and your laugh. I can’t do it again. I can’t go through that again.”

You felt his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you, “Don’t leave me. Not ever again.”

You shook your head and lifted a hand up to his jaw, “Never. I don’t want to, Harry. I won’t.”

He grinned dreamily at you, his eyes wandering over your features slowly before he lowered himself down your body again, pressing his shoulders to the back of your thighs, and hooked his arms underneath to keep you in place.

The moment you felt his mouth on your core you clenched your eyelids closed and sighed. It had meant so much to you to have him loving on you, touching you, needing you. And Harry was the only man who’d ever worked an orgasm out of you with his mouth.

And even then, his tongue dragging through your pussylips and up to your clit, over and over again in a teasing, slow build it had you unwinding and unfolding for him. You wanted to give yourself to him fully. And that felt so good.

It felt good to trust yourself for once. To allow yourself to trust him. You could push past your feelings of inadequacy and thinking that no one would actually want you for you. Because that was a lie. You had been lying to yourself for so long and even though you knew it was your own hangup, it was hard to get past it. Until now. Because now you weren’t going to undermine yourself anymore. You learned it was okay to question motives but that it was also okay to accept kindness and love where it was offered.

You felt as he applied open-mouthed kisses to your clit and finally began to push over it, the pressure and the slide of his tongue right where you needed him had you moaning. Had you getting his face all wet.

Harry’s mouth and tongue worked at you strategically; slow teases of a gentle lap at your bud and then a harsh suck and flick to make you shiver. Every wet drag of his muscle against your clit drew you closer to your end as you gave in to the feeling.

And just like the other times he’d eaten you out you reached down to push your fingers into his hair and arched your back into him as a signal for him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. And he seemed to understand your nonverbal cue as he dug in and continued lapping and sucking exactly like you liked.

He watched your tits wobble and your body jerk and convulse as he kept his mouth suctioned to your pussy with his tongue wagging and slicking over your puffy clit until he felt you pressing his head down further and you coughed out a loud groan when your thighs started to shake.

His moans into your pussy vibrated through to your guts and it felt like you were going to explode.

“Fuck, Harry!” You were grinding yourself into his mouth and nose as you felt your release snap and you lost control of your volume and the sound of your voice and your limbs as he held you down so he could press broad strokes of his tongue over your pussy back and forth.

Harry closed his eyes and let you use his face and mouth to grind your clit on as you orgasmed. His cock was so hard; just tasting you and hearing your gasps and pleas of need had him spinning in the clouds. It made him happy to hear how good he was making you feel.

And that’s what he wanted the most. Was to make you happy. He wanted your smiles and laughter. He wanted you to enjoy his company and to feel happy with him. He wanted your heart and your soul and everything that made you who you were because he’d already decided he’d give you everything he could. His heart was yours already.

Ever since that day you kicked him out of your apartment, he hadn’t stopped thinking about all the things he did wrong. How childish he’d been with you. He hadn’t meant to fuck up so badly but he would make sure that his old ways were in the past. Now he was yours and he would prove to you that you could trust him.

When you gently released his hair and pushed yourself up to look at him he lifted with a grin, “Felt good?” His mouth and chin were glistening with you.

You laughed and nodded as you watched him slide his underwear down his sturdy thighs and toss them onto the floor. His body was even better than before. You weren’t sure why. Maybe he’d been hitting the gym harder. Or maybe it was just that now things were different. And you were seeing him in a different light. Looking at him in a way that you never had before. But you were still focused on his strong build and dark tattoos as well. That glorious cock, bobbing and heavy was all yours. You loved the way he felt inside of you and how perfect it looked hanging between his thighs like it was.

You sat up and got to your knees to adjust yourself and laid a palm on his thigh as you looked at him and licked your lips. He understood your hint as you moved your hand up toward his cock and he looked down at your fingers before placing his hand over yours, “We’ll do that later. Plenty of time to get to all that. I just want to make love to you, Y/n.”

“But you ate me out. I should at least–“

“No. Later,” he got to his knees and pushed you gently back to your bottom, “You don’t understand. I can’t wait one more second to be inside of you. We’ll have plenty of time for that other stuff but I haven’t had sex since in 9 months. If you put your mouth anywhere near my cock it’s gonna make me come too fast. A little out of practice,” he smiled with a small laugh as you laid your back into the mattress and he settled himself between your legs, hips tucking against yours.

You could feel his rigid, girthy cock slide through your labia as he rolled his hips down and up, wetting his shaft, “Want to fuck you now. Okay?”

You moaned and nodded. It was okay by you. You knew there’d be time for blowjobs later so you didn’t mind having him inside your cunt, stuffing you to the brim like you knew he would. There was plenty of time for all that, now that you weren’t going to be running off from him again.

“Want this cock, honey?” He continued rocking his hips. Sliding himself up and down, the tip of his cock collecting your arousal and pushing it up to your clit.

“Yes, Harry. Please.” You bucked upward to catch him at your entrance but he pressed your hip down and grinned at you playfully.

“Love hearing you say please. Such a good girl for me.”

You groaned when he wouldn’t push in right away, still teasing you with the drag of his thick shaft up and down through your labia and against your clit. The sound of it was lewd. Filthy.

“Please fuck me!” You whined.

Harry paused his motions, keeping his eyes on yours as he reared back and took his base in his palm to line himself up to your hole. He kept one hand on the inside of your thigh as he began to press himself inward slowly, the snap of his bulbous head entering you and pushing through your walls was the first act of confirming everything.

Confirming that this was it. That now you were connected and there was no turning back. That all the promises spoken were sealed.

You both kept your eyes pinned on one another as he bottomed out, balls tucked against your ass with a whimper from his mouth and a deep sigh of relief.

He slowly pulled back before inching his way back into the hilt and repeated his languid strokes as your wet pussy blossomed and opened wide for his girth until he was rocking down into you with a force that had your tits bouncing and harsh breaths punching from your lungs.

Harry’s strong abs clenched as his thighs flexed, working into you, exacting strokes deep into your cunt and skin colliding every time you felt the dip of his crown nudging into your tummy.

He sat back to his haunches, knees bent with the back of your thighs draped over the top of his. He watched as he sunk into you and pulled back to his tip, his shaft glistening and coated in you before he thrust back in until you were gasping and reaching for his arms to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself of who’s cock was fucking you so good.

“Love this pussy, Y/n. You take me so well. So fucking juicy and plush,” he pounded into you, putting everything he had into it, muscles working and pushing him further and further as you bounced upward on the mattress every time he crashed into you.

“Hear that, baby?” Harry used a hand to squeeze at your tit, “Your bed squeaking, your pussy creamy and wet around me, those desperate whimpers from these pretty lips?” He pushed his hand up to your mouth, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.

You moaned in response and nodded as you stitched your brows together in bliss.

“That’s right. That’s the sound of me fucking you and we’re gonna do it again and again and again. Yeah?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

You nodded, “Fuck! Yes, Harry!” Your words were punched from your lungs as he continued railing ito you, his hips rocking against yours.

Your whole being was lit up. From your racing mind to your tingling skin and toes, the bones that kept you solid, your pumping heart, and your pussy gripping onto Harry’s fat cock as he slid into you, back and forth, bumping through your inside walls into that hard-to-reach little dip that had you breathless.

Every stroke he gave you put you closer and closer to your second orgasm. The delicious emergence and unraveling of your end made you delirious.

When he leaned himself over you he thrust down harshly, pushing your thighs wider apart, the sound gushy and slick as he drove into you. You could feel his cock sliding through your guts and his pelvis grinding against your clit making you quiver.

“Oh my god…” you panted as you reached up for his shoulders where you could feel the taught muscle keeping himself up and aligned as he fucked into you, your back digging into the mattress underneath.

“Yeah? Feels good huh? Told you we fit together perfectly. Pussy deserves to be filled and stuffed every day. Want you to feel so good, baby…”

“It’s so fucking good,” your whimpered words were shaky and breathy.

“I know baby… So good… gonna give it to you every fucking day like this. Make love to you and treat you like a queen. Be so good to you…” his strained words were breathy as he was feeling the heat with you.

His lips pressed into yours and your brain short-circuited as you fell into that hazy, floaty space of ecstasy and need. Need for Harry and his body and his heart. Need for happiness with him. The need to feel happiness with someone you could trust.

When you sucked on his tongue and he rocked into you, keeping his hips smoothe against yours you began to whine and moan as your orgasm approached.

But then Harry stopped. He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you with that evil grin you’d seen before and you gasped at the loss. You had just been on the cusp of coming.

He quickly pulled out as his own chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cock swayed and you pushed yourself up to see what was happening before he grabbed your sides and rolled you over to your tummy.

“Harry!” You yelped at the sudden maneuver and felt his palm land harshly on your bum. And then again and again. You jumped and crooned out as he issued your ass a handful of spankings to each side and then heard him moan when he kneaded into the meat of your bottom as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You suddenly felt him pushing your legs apart and fitting himself between them as he forced his hard cock back into your wet pussy, his heavy tip pushing past your small opening and you gasped at the suddenness of it all.

You moaned at the relief of finally having him tucked back inside. He slid through you smoothly, his hands holding your ass cheeks apart as he worked himself in over and over. You had your face smushed into the blankets as you sighed.

His hips rocked against your ass and you could feel him swiveling himself in every time his balls pressed into your skin, grounding himself deep through your tummy. The sounds he was making had you grinning. It felt just as good for him. He needed your body for relief. You were happy to let him get whatever he needed from you.

Slow languid strokes of his long cock, splitting you open with every thrust felt so good. It reminded you of how big he really was. How bulky and long his cock was as it disappeared inside of you and nudged its way into your depths.

“Stick your fingers over your clit, Y/n. Go on baby.”

You gurgled a moan and lifted your hips slightly to allow your right hand access to your pussy. And it was more relief. The feel of it all coming together was perfection. His fat cock taking up every inch of your insides, his tip crashing through your guts, the weight of him behind you and fucking you into the mattress, and your fingers on your clit, slipping and pressing…

Harry gave himself a moment to bask in the view of his cock spreading your vagina apart. He dragged a thumb over the spot where he was fucking into you, feeling himself move in and out, watching your pussy wrapped around him, glistening wet until he felt his balls tightening and constricting and your walls clamping down over him.

He could see your hips moving faster as you ground over your hand to get to your orgasm but then he pulled at your hand, moving your fingers away from your clit and you felt his chest against your back and his lips against the shell of your ear as he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.

It caught you off guard. The second denial of your orgasm. You angled your neck to try and turn toward him, “Harry, what?”

You felt him press his cock in hard, hips stilling against your ass, his lips pressed over your ear, “Put your fingers back on your clit but don’t move them til I say.”

In confusion, you slid your hand back to your core and he continued, “Good.”

He reared back and then thrust forward again, “Do you want to come, Y/n? Wanna come on my cock?”

You moaned a yes as you secretly slid a finger across your bud making you shiver.

“Then tell me you’re mine. Say you’re mine, Y/n, and I’ll let you come.”

You had no hesitation in telling him just that, “Harry I’m yours. I’m yours…”

“My girl. That’s right. Rub your pussy, baby. Get yourself off,” his breathy words were warm over your ear and neck as you began to slip your fingers back and forth to get you back to that spot that would have you tipping over the edge.

Then you felt Harry shift behind, his chest no longer pressed into your back as he started pounding into you, “Fucking come, baby. You’re mine now…”

You grinned in elation at his words and the way he sounded totally fucked out himself. Much like the way you were feeling. Like he was out of his mind with lust for you.

Every smack of his hips into your bum had you jolting up and you ground down into your hand, rolling your clit over whatever you could reach when you started to feel that melting, unraveling sensation. The electrical charge that made your pussy quiver and your back arch and your vision go white.

“There it is! Fuck!” Harry’s thrusts were harsh but every stroke felt like a sparking and exhilarating charge going through your body. His tip plunged into your cervix and fingers gripped your bottom harshly as you heard him choke out a loud moan.

“Gonna fill you fill you up baby… fuck… stuff you with my come…”

You could hardly hear your bed creaking and clanking as your ears began to ring and you gushed around Harry, your walls spasming and constricting around him tightly.

He moved into you, gliding in and out until finally his balls squeezed and pumped sperm through his cock directly into your wet hole. He stilled his hips as he whimpered a groan, throwing his neck back with his mouth dropped open, his cock throbbing inside of you, coating your walls with his come.

It seemed to last forever. He moaned and twitched, his body connected and pressed into yours as he drained every bit of himself into you. He pressed inward further, stuffing your pussy with his come, making sure every bit of it seeped through your cunt and soaked your insides.

He hadn’t had sex in 9 months. Jerking himself off didn’t do it like the real thing and when it was with you it was even better. The best. He hadn’t come so hard ever in his life he was certain as his body flushed in heat and his heart thudded wildly in his chest when he crumpled over your back, tucking his arms around you and kissing your neck softly.

You moaned quietly at the feel of him on your back. The post-orgasm glow was never so good before. It felt like you were in a different realm of existence, floating and glowing in bliss.

“You’re mine, Y/n?” He wanted reassurance. Which was understandable after the way you handled things the first time around. But this time was going to be different. You two were starting over again. This time with a better understanding of what the other needed, with a better understanding of yourself and what each of you needed to do to be a good partner. Things were different this time.

Harry pushed himself up and looked down at his sensitive cock still inside of you. He drew himself back and watched as his creamy come leaked from your hole and he pressed himself back inside. You felt him pumping himself in and out shallowly and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were glued to your cunt where he was fucking his come back inside of you. A natural urge he couldn’t deny.

When his eyes found yours and he finally pulled himself out, he helped you roll to your side as he laid next to you, his hand on your cheek and you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m yours, Harry. I was back then too I just didn’t realize it. Couldn’t admit it. But I’m yours.”

You both smiled at one another. His eyes were bright and clear and you could trust him. You knew you could. He made you feel so comfortable about yourself. Made you feel like you could make him happy and that he’d want to stick around for you. That he would make you happy in return.

He took your hand and pressed it harder over his chest, “I’m yours too. I was since the day I first met you. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful, Y/n. And I’m not letting go of you again.”

You grinned and pushed yourself up to his mouth to kiss him. You felt his palm slide down your side and to your bum, as he squeezed you, causing a laugh to puff out from your lips against his.

“Sorry, I love your ass. Feels so good in my hands. Just wanna bite it and stuff my face against it. Can’t help it.”

You rolled your eyes at him still grinning but when he swatted at your bottom your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. When I tell you I love your ass, I fucking mean it.” He gave you another good squeeze to emphasize his words.

So you slid your hand down to his nipple and squeezed at it, “And I love your nipples and these tits,” you laughed.

Harry’s wide grin and dimples were suddenly hidden when he nuzzled his face into your neck and you heard him inhale deeply.

The afterglow with him was something out of a romance novel. It was beautiful and precious. Almost too good to be true.

The sound of a cellphone ringing had both you and Harry lifted out of the sweet moment. He sat up, “It’s me.”

He hopped out of your bed and you watched as he crouched down to his pants where his phone was in his back pocket. His strong back flexing as he pulled it out and then stood up to answer the call.

“Hello?”

You frowned as you watched him disappear into your hallway, still nude. Turning to look at the clock on your side table you noted that it was paste 10 pm. You wondered who was calling at the late hour. Couldn’t have been work. What could be so important that he had to leave your side after he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life?

“I’ll be there! I’m booking a flight as soon as I get off the phone. Yes..”

You could hear him pacing and talking. You picked up most of what he said as you sat silently on your bed waiting for him to return and explain himself.

“I missed you too. I can’t wait to finally meet her. I know. Me too.”

You slid off your bed and pulled a t-shirt from your drawer to put it over your body as he ended the call with an I love you.

Harry walked back into your room with a huge grin, “My sister just had her baby!”

You smiled at him widely as he took three long-legged steps toward you, his cock swaying as he was still completely naked before he wrapped you in a tight hug, “Today is like the best day I’ve ever had. First you,” he kissed your cheek, “Now my sister...”

You laughed when he twirled around with you and then he let go, a sudden look of realization on his face, “Come with me to London. I want everyone to meet you!”

You blinked your eyes and stuttered your words, “Are you serious?”

He grabbed your hands, “Dead serious. Come with me. It’s not like you have to ask off for work. We can go for a couple of weeks. God, it’d be so fun, Y/n. Me and you… My mom’s going to love you.”

Your head was spinning from everything that had happened that day. From the moment Harry walked into that room at the gallery to now having him standing naked in your bedroom asking you to take a trip with him to see his family and his sister’s new baby. But, spinning or not, there was no part of you that would turn down the offer.

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to, Harry.”

He pulled you in for another hug and pressed his face into your neck, “This is going to be so good, Y/n.”

You laughed as he squeezed you tight and then his hands cupped your cheeks, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll book our flights. Yeah?”

You nodded as your cheeks burned hot when he pressed his mouth to yours again.

It was a funny thing to you. That the first time you had sex with Harry the post-orgasm afterglow was interrupted by a phone call. And this time another phone call had broken the moment too. Except things were not the same as they were then. Now you knew who Harry was. You trusted him and this time everything was going to be different.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this!! xoxo

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