#I talked this over with a good friend of mine before posting.

[carisc4pshaw]

Through the Seasons

In which Elle and JJ are married and have a daughter and spend Summer vacation, Halloween, Christmas and Easter together. (really fluffy)

word count: 5k

tags: fluff, jelle, wlw, bisexual, lesbian, summer vacation, holiday, bali, swimming with dolphins halloween, autumn, fall, candy, dressing up, christmas, winter, snow, snowman, hot chocolate, presents, easter, spring, easter bunny, chocolate eggs, easter egg hunt, cookies, baking, flirting, marriage, criminal minds, fbi, lesbian elle greenaway, bisexual jennifer jareau, love, parenting, mom elle greenaway, mom jennifer jareau, fluff.

notes: will be posting on ao3 I hope you enjoy!

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Summer:

Elle laid back on the sand with her sunglasses covering her eyes. She propped herself up on her elbows when she heard a little screech and a giggle knowing exactly who it came from. She lifted her sunglasses to get a better view of the scene in front of her.

Down by the ocean blue sea her wife and daughter were building sandcastles. She had met Jennifer Jareau through work almost four years ago when her daughter was just 5 months old and in her opinion, she couldn’t have found a better person to raise her child with.

JJ had treated Lyra as if she was her own right from the start.

The two of them had only taken Lyra on two vacations abroad and on both occasions, JJ would insist on Elle relaxing in the sun while she entertained the young girl.

She watched as JJ pulled Lyra onto her lap hugging her tightly as Lyra’s damp brunette curls stuck to the blonde’s skin. She loved them both so much.

Elle rested her sunglasses on top of her head before getting up and going over to her family, “What are my babies building?”

“Mommy! Mama and me build castles!” Lyra looked up at her with her big brown eyes.

“It looks really good baby,” Elle said looking at JJ with a smile that the blonde woman could read as her heart melting over her daughter.

Lyra climbed from JJ’s lap and reached her hands up to Elle making a grabbing motion indicating she wanted to be picked up.

Elle immediately lifted her up resting her on her hip, “I love you my princess you’re so adorable aren’t you?” she kissed the tip of her nose making her giggle.

“I wanna swim in the pool at the hotel,” Lyra pouted blinking her long eyelashes at her mommy.

“You need more sunscreen before we do anything, baby,” Elle looked at JJ, “And so do you my love you’re going pink.”

JJ groaned, “Why do you always pick such hot places we aren’t all blessed with golden skin.”

“Well I love you the way you are,” Elle kissed her cheek once she was standing.

Lyra started to whine with a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong Ly?” Elle twirled her finger in her daughter’s hair.

“Who’s gonna look after my sandcastles when we go back?” Her eyes were wet like she was about to cry.

“The mermaid will look after these ones and you can build new ones when we come back,” Elle told her.

Lyra’s small hands gripped onto a piece of Elle’s hair, the little girl was very clingy with her and JJ she never wanted them to not be with her, “But I made them they mine.”

“I took a picture sweetheart,” JJ rubbed Lyra’s back.

A young woman sat not too far away and listened to some of their conversation smiling before deciding to speak up, “Would you like me to watch your sand castles for you?”

Both Elle and JJ turned to see the woman talking and Lyra nodded her head, “Yes please!”

The woman smiled, “No problem.”

“What do you say, honey?” JJ prompted.

“Thank you,” Lyra smiled widely, her dimples showing. They were one of JJ’s favourite things, they were exactly like Elle’s.

“It’s no problem, you’re a beautiful family. You and your mommy are similar,” The woman complimented.

“Thank you so much,” Elle smiled.

“You’re welcome, I hope I have kids as cute as her one day.”

“Do you wanna be friends?” Lyra asked wriggling in her mom’s arms to be put down.

The woman laughed, “Of course!”

Elle let Lyra down and the small girl ran the small distance towards the raven-haired woman, “My name is Lyra!”

“My name is Emily,” She shook the girl’s hand.

“I’m Jennifer and that’s my wife, Elle,” JJ smiled as she laced her fingers with Elle’s.

“Who you come with Emily?” Lyra asked.

“I came here with a friend of mine and my girlfriend they both stayed by the pool at the resort though.”

“You come back with us,” Lyra turned to Elle, “We can make more friends Mommy.”

“Who will look after your sandcastles though? Emily asked.

“The mermaids! They have pretty wavy pink hair and magic tails!”

“Okay if you’re sure I’ll come back with you,” Emily laughed.

“Can you carry me?” Lyra gave her puppy dog eyes.

“No Ly,” Elle shook her head, “If you want to be carried Mama or I will carry you.”

“Fineeee,” She pouts, stomping her feet a little.

“Lyra none of that or we won’t be able to go to the play area later,” JJ said.

“Okay, mama I do as I told.”

Elle helped Lyra up onto JJ’s back for a piggyback ride.

“How did you guys meet?” Emily asked Elle once they began walking back to the hotel.

“At work, I was working with the sex crimes unit of the FBI before I had Lyra and while I was off there was an opening in the department where JJ was working, she’s a media liaison and that’s where we met when I got the job there, Lyra was 5 months old,” Elle told her smiling the entire time.

“Oh, it’s like fate you got the job then. I’ve actually been working for Interpol, some of my friends work for the FBI,” Emily replied.

“Oh wow, that’s… Small world huh but also an awesome job, what about your girlfriend?”

“She's a cardiologist.”

“Wow, that must be stressful.”

“Mommy! Are we still swimming with dolphins tomorrow?” Lyra interrupted because she felt left out of the conversation.

“Yes baby,” Elle laughs.

“I’m guessing she’s your only child?” Emily says.

“Mhm, we want more but Lyra is enough for us now honestly I couldn’t even imagine trying to share my love for her with another child, she’s my entire world,” Elle gushed as she watched her daughter pulling on her wife’s hair.

“It would be easy once you had more than one but I can see what you mean she’s perfect.”

“Oh, she really is I couldn’t imagine her being any other way.”

“There’s my friend and my girlfriend,” Emily pointed to the other side of the pool where a blonde girl was sitting with someone who looked familiar to Elle.

“Isn’t that Derek?” JJ asked pointing to where Emily had just pointed.

“Uncle Derek?!” Lyra shouted pretty loudly.

“Wow this really is a small world,” Emily laughed.

“Hi pumpkin, What are you doing here?” Derek asked Lyra taking her off JJ’s back.

“Mommy’s took me on holiday!” The girl squealed at the end of her sentence, “I build castles in the sand.”

“Wow did you? You’re so clever,” Derek sat on the sun lounge with her.

“Will you come swimming with me and Mommy, Mama does not want to come in now and someone needs to look after Mommy in case she is not able to swim,” Lyra asked.

“Baby, I know how to swim,” Elle laughed.

“Just in case I said.”

“Yeah I’ll come in with you why don’t you Mommy and Mama stay here we can handle the pool can’t we?” Derek said tickling her.

“Stop!” she giggled loudly, “Yeah we be fine on our own.”

“You don’t have to Derek,” Elle said.

“Are you kidding I want to hang out with my favourite girl you guys relax.”

“I would kiss you right now if,” JJ started before earning a glare from Elle, “… If you were my wife.”

Derek laughed, “Get acquainted with Em and Marissa, we won’t be in there too long and we will stay at the end closest to here.”

Elle nodded, “Okay thank you, If you ever want her for a sleepover let us know,” She winked.

“Sorry, a three-year-old crying all night isn’t exactly a chick magnet.”

“Worth a try to get some alone time with my wife,” Elle shrugged.

JJ rolled her eyes at Elle asking Derek to take their daughter for the night, “You’ll just have to wait until we are home.”

The next morning Lyra woke her moms by trying to wiggle her way into the middle of them in bed despite the fact there was barely a gap due to how they were cuddling.

JJ was the first to wake up and realise, “Hi honey.”

“Hi Mama, let me in,” Lyra gave her puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, but it’s only 6 am so you need to be super quiet and let Mommy sleep,” JJ helped her into the middle.

Lyra touched her mom’s face lightly, “Mommy is really pretty,” she whispered.

“She is, isn’t she?” JJ said stroking Lyra’s hair.

“Do you think I’m pretty because Mommy made meee?”

“I think you’re gorgeous honey but try to sleep for a little longer so you have lots of energy for the dolphins,” JJ placed a kiss on the little girl's head.

Elle woke up first the next time as she could feel little feet kicking around, the clock said 8:30 am. Deciding that was a good time to get up she quietly climbed out of bed and went to the small kitchenette in their room to make a cup of coffee.

Once it was ready she stood in the doorway of the bedroom sipping on it while she watched her wife and daughter sleeping but JJ quickly felt her stare which awakened her from her slumber.

“What are you doing? You’re so creepy,” JJ groaned sleepily.

“It’s not creepy you’re my wife and she’s my daughter I love you both, do you want some coffee?” Elle said approaching her with her lips pouted ready for a kiss.

“Yes please my love,” JJ said before kissing her lips.

Elle and JJ held hands while Lyra skipped in front of them on the way to the dolphin pool, the small girl had already asked her mom's countless questions that neither of them really had the answer to.

Lyra abruptly stopped in front of them, “Wait! What do they eat?”

“Fish probably sweetheart,” Elle answered.

“Oh… Okay!” She continued skipping.

“She’s so strange sometimes,” Elle whispered to JJ.

“Hm she gets it from you you’re a little weird sometimes,” JJ kissed her cheek.

Lyra gasped seeing the dolphins swimming in the pool, “Can you believe we are really swimming with dolphins?!”

“Honestly… not really that thought actually makes me feel rather sick,” JJ answered.

“Honey you don’t have to, she and I can just do it together, you can watch?”

“Oh yeah, I want pictures Mama!” Lyra whined.

“Well I guess it’s decided then, but you have to be a good girl and listen to Mommy I know you don’t like it but she’s just trying to keep you safe okay?” JJ told the girl.

“Got it!” Lyra said pulling off her pink Hello Kitty tank top and blue hibiscus print skirt to reveal her bathing suit covered in flowers, “Armbands please.”

JJ took the armbands from the bag while Elle slipped her cream crochet dress off to reveal her low cut halter neck black swimsuit, “You’re wearing that?” JJ's eyes widened.

“What’s wrong with it?” Elle said looking down.

“You look beautiful but honey it’s a bit revealing, and you’re swimming with dolphins your boob could easily pop out of the side of that they barely fit in there as it is.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining you love them and you loved this swimsuit on our honeymoon,” Elle smirked.

“You weren’t in a pool swimming with dolphins, children and other children’s parents on our honeymoon,” JJ raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on it’s fine,” Elle dragged out the ‘e’ before taking Lyra’s hand, “Come on baby let’s go.”

Elle and Lyra spent an hour swimming with the dolphins while JJ took way too many pictures but she wanted to take as many as possible to put in a scrapbook to show Lyra when she was older.

——————

Autumn/fall:

Lyra dramatically dropped her marker pens on her colouring table with a loud sigh.

“What's wrong princess?” Elle asked from the sofa.

“It’s Halloween I need to get trick or treating!”

“It’s only 3 pm we are going as soon as Mama is home from work,” Elle said getting up and standing behind Lyra stroking her wavy hair.

“I hate waiting can I get dressed now!” Lyra kicked her legs around.

“I suppose but Mama wanted to see you.”

“Film it and we can go visit her at work when I am ready,” Lyra giggled getting up from the pink plastic chair.

“Well I’ll have to check with Mama first, baby,” Elle took out her phone and texted JJ.

Elle: hey honey, any confirmation on the time you’re going to be home?

JJ: Not yet, we aren’t too busy though so 6:30?

Elle: Ly wants to get in her costume now and come to the bureau

JJ: Aww Spence would love to see her dressed up as would I of course.

Elle: So that’s fine with you?

JJ: Depends are you dressing up too?

Elle: I will put the witch hat on for you

JJ: And the black dress please, you look gorgeous.

Elle: I’ll consider it.

JJ: 😏 I can’t wait to see you, and our little monster.

Elle followed Lyra into her bedroom, “Mama said that’s fine, do you know where your costume is?”

Lyra nodded and pointed at the closet.

“And the pink boots?”

“Ummm, in your shoe room maybe, I played dress up in there.”

“Okay see if you can find them love,” Elle said opening the closet to find the Monsters Inc. costume.

Elle helped Lyra into her costume, she looked adorable. After a few pictures she put on the long black tight-fitting velvet dress with her witch hat, “How does Mommy look?” she asked finishing putting on her deep wine-red lipstick.

Lyra gasped, “So pretty, Mama is gonna love it.”

Elle and Lyra walked out of the elevator hand in hand. JJ was already waiting by the glass door for them. When she saw them she pushed the door open.

“Mama, Am I cute?” Lyra asked, letting go of Elle’s hand and running to JJ.

JJ picked her up and kissed her nose, “The cutest monster I’ve ever seen.”

“What about Mommy, she cute too?” Lyra pointed at Elle.

“Oh your Mommy is the most beautiful,” JJ told her putting her down and taking Elle’s hand.

“Lyra! Don’t you look adorable wow,” Spencer said from his desk.

“I’m Sully!” Lyra said running towards him.

“I can see that, I’m a huge Monsters Inc. fan.”

“Really? It’s my favouriteeee.”

Across the room, Elle had taken her hat off her head placing it on JJ.

“You look sexy,” JJ smirked and placed a hand on Elle’s ass while they were in each other’s arms.

“You look sexy,” Elle said looking down at JJ’s tight shirt that she was sure was hers before kissing her.

“Ew gross!” Lyra shouted from Spencer’s arms.

The two women pulled back and made their way over to their daughter and Spencer.

“Honey you need to be quiet people are working,” Elle told her.

“When trick or treat? It's already 5 pm Spencer said,” Lyra pouted.

“How about we go now?” JJ said.

“Yeah! Now now now,” Lyra wriggled in Spencer’s arms.

“Okay let me go get my things,” JJ said before leaving them.

Lyra ran up to the first house on their street with Elle and JJ not far behind. She had a pumpkin-shaped basket in her small hand as she used the other hand to knock on the door.

“Trick or TREAT!” Lyra said yelling ‘treat’ rather loudly clearly showing her intentions of why she was at the house earning a laugh from the man and the door and the two women.

“Aren’t you a super cute monster,” he said bending down.

“Yeah candy please,” Lyra grinned.

“Honey that’s rude, you wait until you are given candy,” Elle told her.

“It’s fine,” the man laughs putting a couple of pieces of candy in Lyra’s bucket before returning to his usual height and looking at Elle, “I haven’t seen you around here.”

“We don’t live far just up the road!” Lyra answered.

“Well your Mommy is very beautiful I wouldn’t mind seeing her more often,” the man had a small smirk on his face when he was looking at Elle.

“Which one?” Lyra asked.

The man raised an eyebrow, “What one?”

“Yeah? They are both my mommies. Kiss,” Lyra ordered turning to her moms.

JJ put her arm around Elle, “We aren’t kissing honey come on go to the next house.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise…”

“It’s fine,” Elle offered a small smile until Lyra took the lead running off to the next house.

——————

Winter:

Christmas Eve was a pretty big deal in their house, it wasn’t before Elle met JJ but ever since she had Christmas Eve was just as important as Christmas Day.

One of JJ’s favourite things about Christmas was getting to make Christmas Eve boxes for them all. She enjoyed having a day off work with Elle and going to department stores to find cute matching pyjamas for the three of them, movies they could watch together and mugs for their hot chocolates. Elle just loved to see her this happy.

The family of three sat on the sofa snuggled into each other with many pillows and blankets watching the nightmare before Christmas.

“So Mommy, Santa Claus is definitely coming tonight yeah?” Lyra asked looking up at Elle with her sparkling brown eyes.

“Yes baby, you’ll have lots and lots of presents to open,” Elle stroked her head.

“What? More than today’s box?!” Lyra gasped with a grin on her face.

“Yes you’ll have more presents than today, the Christmas Eve box is a few things I picked out for you they aren’t from Santa,” JJ explained.

“Thank you, Mama, I love us being matchy in comfy pyjamas,” Lyra cuddled into the side of her.

“I love it too princess,” JJ kissed the side of her head and smiled at Elle.

“When are you going to get married together?” Lyra asked playing with the edge of her blanket but also still focusing on the TV.

“Honey, we are married. We got married last year, you were our flower girl,” Elle told her.

“Really? When I was two?”

Elle nodded, “Yeah baby you don’t remember?”

“Not really,” Lyra pouted.

“That’s okay, me and Mommy can show you pictures sweetie,” JJ said.

“Hm kay, not now I getting sweepy and Santa Claus might be here soon,” Lyra spoke her eyes closing every couple of seconds.

“Who do you want to take you to bed?”

“Both you please,” Lyra gave both her mom’s cute wide puppy dog eyes.

“Of course sweetheart,” Elle stood from the sofa picking Lyra up. The small girl immediately threw her arms around her and clung to her like a koala.

The two women sat beside Lyra’s bed as she curled up in her princess duvet before they started their ‘goodnight routine’ which was saying I love you lots of times and big cuddles and kisses.

Once she was drifting off they turned on her night light and left the room with JJ’s arm around Elle’s waist and her hand resting on her hip.

“Excited for Christmas my love?” Elle asked after kissing JJ.

“I think it’s going to be snowing. Should we wrap the presents?”

“Probably if you want our daughter to have presents to open,” Elle laughed.

JJ looked into Elle’s eyes and placed her hands on her cheeks before leaning in a little, “I love you so much and I love it when you call her our daughter, I love spending my favourite holiday with you both,” JJ finished her mini speech with a small peck on Elles's lips.

“We both love you so much Jay even if you make us put the Christmas tree up in November,” Elle said before going to get the wrapping paper and tape.

At 6 am Lyra ran into her mom’s room and jumped onto the bed waking them up.

“It’s snowing, it’s snowing! Let's go outside!” She kept repeating until she got an answer.

“Honey, it’s only six in the morning, don’t you want to open your presents and have breakfast first?” Elle asked still with her eyes closed.

“No outside first please Mommy it’s going to melt,” the small girl pouted.

“We will go, give Mommy a couple more minutes I’m sure she’ll meet us outside with hot chocolate. Right, babe?” JJ said kissing Elle’s cheek.

“Mhm sounds like a plan, my love,” Elle curled back up in the duvet.

“That means you’ll have to get out of bed,” JJ ran her blunt fingernails up and down Elle’s back.

“Come onnnn,” Lyra whined.

“I’m coming sweetheart,” JJ slipped out of bed, “Go put your warmest coat on and don’t forget to get your hat, gloves and scarf we don’t want you getting sick.”

“Yes Mama, going,” Lyra said while running out of the room.

JJ went over to Elle’s side of the bed and kneeled next to her so they were at the same height, “You can have five minutes because you need to make the drinks and I know you won’t her out there longer than half an hour,” the blonde kissed her lips.

“Yes ma’am,” Elle mumbled.

JJ put on her warmest clothes with her coat and gloves before going to check that Lyra was ready.

The brunette girl was waiting by the door in her pink sparkly snow boots, purple hat with a Hello Kitty logo, black coat and pastel multicoloured scarf. She looked so adorable JJ had to take pictures of her.

The two had been building a snowman for 15 minutes when Elle finally appeared on the porch with 3 mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles on top.

“Oh don’t you both look adorable,” she said placing the drinks down.

“Put a coat on babe! You’re going to get ill,” JJ said looking at Elle in her dressing gown.

“I’m fine, the robe is fluffy,” She smiled sitting down and taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

“Look at my snowman Mommy,” Lyra pointed at the snowman that was around her height.

“Wow, honey did you do that yourself?”

“Uh huh Mama just helped shape him, he needs a scarf he gonna be cold,” Lyra frowned.

“He has to be cold Ly so he lives longer.”

“Oh, kayyy,” Lyra shivered, “I am cold now.”

“Do you want to go inside and open your presents,” JJ asked picking her up.

“Hmm, but I don’t want to leave Mr snow.”

“That’s okay we can look from the window.”

Lyra nodded, snuggling into JJ and closing her eyes until they reached the porch. Since it was cold out they decided to finish their hot chocolates inside.

After opening their presents, Elle and JJ helped Lyra set up her Barbie dream house she got and watched her play for most of the day. It was the perfect Christmas.

——————

Spring:

Easter wasn’t much of an important holiday to them but after hearing about it from her Nursery Lyra decided she wanted the family to go all out with taking part.

Elle had gone into the bureau early to finish up a piece of work and create a small easter egg hunt for Lyra. She knew her daughter would love doing it around their friends and she had approval from Hotch who had decided on doing the same for Jack.

Once the purple and green wrapped chocolate eggs were hidden around the office Elle texted JJ telling her that everything was set up.

Lyra and JJ arrived at the office and Elle was surprised to see Lyra was dressed up as a pink bunny.

“Oh, what’s this baby?” Elle laughed, her daughter looked adorable.

“I wanted to be a bunny! Cute?” Lyra grinned scrunching her nose.

Elle picked her up and kissed her nose, “The cutest bunny I’ve ever seen.”

“Do I get chocolate now?” Lyra asked grabbing strands of the waves in Elles's hair.

“I made you an easter egg hunt,” Elle told her.

“What that?”

“I’ve hidden eight purple eggs around the office do you think you can find them? Not the green ones you have to leave them.”

“Are they chocolate eggs?” Lyra’s eyes lit up.

“Mhm,” Elle hummed, “See if you can find them, if you can’t you can ask one of us to help you.”

Elle sat on her desk as Lyra ran off to find the eggs. JJ perched next to her, “She’s perfect.”

“I know, where did you find that bunny costume?” Elle laughed.

“In the back of the closet, I have no idea where it came from.”

Within a few minutes, Penelope appeared in front of the couple, “Lyra is wearing the easter costume I got her! Isn’t she the most perfect adorable squishy bunny in the world?!”

“Ah I should have known it was from you,” JJ laughed.

“Well duh! I’m the fun one,” Garcia motioned to herself with a little spin.

“She does look pretty cute,” Spencer said.

“We are amazing godparents!” Garcia said to him.

“Well I had no part in the costume but we sure are.”

“Spencie, can you help I can’t find some,” Lyra pouted.

“Your mommy hid them wouldn’t she be the best to ask?”

“But moms say you’re super smarttttt, You’ll know!”

Spencer blushes, “Oh well, yeah I can help, sure.”

“You should let her have a sleepover at mine, I’ll invite Spencer over she’d love it!” Penelope exclaimed.

“Sold, I want a night alone with my wife,” Elle said.

JJ rolled her eyes, “We will think about it, she’s still quite young for sleepovers.”

“They are her godparents what could go wrong?” Elle shrugged.

“Mommy I found them!” Lyra ran back with the eggs in her basket.

“Let’s count them,” JJ said.

“1…2…3,4…5,6… and 7,” Lyra said as JJ picked them out.

“You still have one more to find honey.”

“But I looked everywhere,” Lyra pouted with a little frown.

“Have you checked Mommy’s desk?” JJ asked.

“Not yet!” Lyra climbed under Elle’s desk.

“Darling please be careful you don’t hit your head,” Elle said.

“I found it!” she said climbing out from under the table and showing her moms and Penelope proudly.

“Well done baby,” Elle said in a baby voice.

Lyra giggled, “Wait! We lost Spencie.”

“Oh no, where did you leave him?” JJ asked.

“Ummm coffee machine I think,” the small brunette began to unwrap one of her chocolate eggs, “Can we go home soon? I wanna make bunny cookies.”

Elle nodded, “Yeah honey, just give me like 10 minutes okay? Jack will be here soon if you want to see him.”

“Not today. COOKIES!”

“I’ll take her to the car, you finish up,” JJ kissed Elle’s lips softly before picking Lyra up, “Come on princess.”

“No! I’m a bunny today not a princess,” Lyra whined putting her thumb in her mouth and resting her head on the blonde's shoulder.

“I think you’re a sleepy bunny,” Elle said stroking her hand down her daughter's back.

“If you wanted to be a bit longer I could take her home now. She could have a nap,” JJ asked Elle.

Elle looked at the pile of papers on her desk, “Yeah, I have my car here anyways. I’ll be about an hour.”

“Okay, I love you see you soon,” JJ leaned closer to her wife.

“I love you too,” Elle closed the gap kissing her.

“I’m home,” The brunette woman whispered but loud enough so JJ would be able to hear if she was downstairs and placed her keys on the table near the front door.

“Hi beautiful,” JJ wrapped her arms around her in the hallway.

They stayed hugging for a few moments but the conversation didn’t stop, “Is Ly still sleeping?”

“Yeah, she was so tired she fell asleep in the car on the way back.”

“Any reason why you’re so cuddly today?” Elle asked remembering how she woke up with JJ attached to her side cuddling her then as well.

“I just love you so much and I want to spend every second of every day loving you and cuddling you and kissing you,” JJ pulled back from the hug and looked into Elle’s eyes.

“I love you too Jay, more than you know. Did you get started on those cookies?”

“Kind of? Do you think she’ll be mad?”

Elle shook her head, “Doubtful she just wants to decorate them.”

“Wanna help finish making them?” JJ asked taking Elle’s hand in hers.

“Always,” Elle let her drag her into the kitchen.

Their baking was sidetracked after Elle flicked some of the flour out of the bowl that went over JJ’s clothes. At first, the younger woman was not exactly impressed nor happy but once Elle allowed her to do it back and it turned into a little food fight they were both laughing with each other which resulted in a make-out session with JJ on the kitchen counter until they heard on the baby monitor they still had that Lyra had woken up.

Elle helped JJ fix her shirt that she had started unbuttoning to get to her collarbone a few minutes ago and quickly wiped her lipstick that had smudged on both of their mouths as they heard little feet on the stairs.

Both of them were presentable by the time their daughter wandered into the kitchen with her thumb in her mouth and her blanket in her other hand.

“Did you sleep well, baby?” Elle said.

The child nodded, “Ready to do cookies.”

JJ looked at the timer on her phone, “They have five more minutes sweetheart.”

Once the timer went off and the cookies had cooled down the three of them all took a few cookies each other using small icing tubes to create patterns on easter eggs and easter bunnies.

[maglors-anion-gap]

I've been mulling something over lately. It's almost a given that one will find questionable elements to older texts; some are overt and some sneaky even to the modern eye. There are, undeniably, many such elements in Tolkien's work, and they cause a lot of trouble for marginalized readers and for fan creators grappling with it in relation to meta and fic.

That the Silmarillion is a largely-omniscient myth-text narrative, composed from a variety of drafts, the discarded versions of which we also have access to, further compounds the issue. Who has read what? Who samples from what? How deeply do some themes pervade both the text and the fandom? There are discarded portions that raise eyebrows (and thankfully, were edited out at some point). However, there are moments where those discarded portions shine through the cracks in exposition, dialogue and reasoning left in the official composite text by the sweeping style of the narrative. The composite can be seen to still rest on certain narrative and valuational presuppositions of Tolkien's - presuppositions he assumes the reader to share.

In the text, of course some have value or more of it, some have honor or more of it, some overcome darkness while some naturally succumb to it. The narrative certainty in these characterizations rests on these lurking (racist, antisemitic, ableist) presuppositions, and in some cases handwaves any deeper exploration or explanation.

There seem to be two fan solutions to reckoning with a cross-draft-consistent bigoted theme. 1) Write meta that explores its traits and manifestations in the text and syncretizes canon assertions with authorial biases, and/or fic that directly addresses the in-text impact of these biases. 2) With an awareness of the bigoted themes, create headcanons, new verses, and fic that subverts, rewrites, or negates the original theme. The former refuses to allow the presuppositions of the text to become the presuppositions of the fandom. The latter allows (particularly marginalized) fans generative space, fodder to create anew, breathing room, and expanded perspectives. Different functions, parallel purposes, both important.

Because it's fandom, and it's large, and our idea of on-the-side fun and not our job or our marriage, we do not have the same preferences for how we go about dealing with these textual issues or the cohesive pressure to be like minded (even as we recognize the need to deal with them). One person's way of reckoning with textual biases or gaps may strike another as reaching too far from canon to be of appeal. This is a common reaction to headcanons, canon divergences and alternate universes, and crack or humor, particularly in the tolkien fandom. However, personal preference is not a basis for asserting that someone is reading the text wrong, especially when the issue at hand is one of reparative analysis and creation.

I am drawn to the issue of the Petty Dwarves. Most information on them comes in pieces from disparate drafts and satellite texts. Some information was erased entirely from the published Silmarillion. However, many people have noted the continual issues in Tolkien's treatment of the Dwarves, the iterative issues with his treatment of the Petty Dwarves, and rightly begin to link the two, plumb them down to their connecting factor, and begin excavating the silences in the narrative which Tolkien allows to be filled by presupposition.

I have found that people who cite personal preference may bring up canon elements to excuse or disprove certain readings; I would argue that the canon elements cited are less often exculpatory of our faves and more often proof of deeper biases, proof of biased presupposition as a stand in for rich characterization. Let me explain. We hear from the Sindar that the Petty Dwarves are reclusive, aggressive, and territorial (on this they base their initial assessment that the Petty Dwarves are two-legged animals for hunting). We hear from the Dwarves who cross the Blue Mountains later that the Petty Dwarves descend from expelled Dwarves who were the smallest, weakest, most conniving and self-serving, and violent persons. At one point, Tolkien describes the Petty Dwarves as older residents in Beleriand than both the Sindar and the eastern Dwarves, and the original inhabitants of Nargothrond, and it is them who Finrod hires to finish its construction. Tolkien describes the Petty Dwarves as agreeing to do this under false and duplicitous pretenses (for what reason, he doesn't say); later, Mim tries to kill Finrod (again, the narrative is sparse on motive), and Finrod alternately outs the Petty Dwarves from Nargothrond or pays the other Dwarves to turn them out. Tolkien evidently means for this to paint a picture of a group of people who are inherently wicked, cannot help but be so, are hated and pitied (for one does not preclude the other, and all good people should pity bad people, after all), and bring about their own diminishment. There's the in-universe justification for it.

I mean to explore why it is not satisfactory to leave the matter alone at "the Petty Dwarves brought about their own downfall." To begin, why does Tolkien rely on the characteristics he does when describing both the Petty Dwarves and Dwarves in general? These are multiple pieces of bigotry at play, chiefly some old antisemitic stereotypes (which have already been unpacked at length and by Jewish fans who are more knowledgable than I; if other have more to add, please do so). But I will give it a try.

First, Tolkien never pins down why the Petty Dwarves are expelled westward, only vaguely pinning it on their inborn characteristics. One old piece of antisemitism held that Jewish people were smaller and weaker than gentiles; Jewish men are still held to be less masculine, which can be traced from a medieval supposition that Jewish men menstruated. Coupled with the ableism of expelling the stunted and the inutile, Tolkien describes here a sort of itinerant and pitiful scrounger who does not belong in a society to which it cannot contribute and into which it cannot assimilate. The concept of vagrancy and the homelandlessness (consider the antisemitism in the concept of the cosmopolitan Jew, and Tolkien's deliberate linkage of Dwarves and losing their homes), is further connected to antisemitism by the Petty Dwarves being duplicitous, self-serving backstabbers toward Finrod, who Tolkien sets up as innocent and trusting enough to sleep unguarded near Mim, further juxtaposing the two. Furthermore, the gentile assertion that Jewish people are violent is escalated to accusations of blood libel and sorcery. Tolkien may not go that far, but he ties this predisposition for violence into the passage about Nargothrond, and their territorial defensiveness and their aggression toward the Sindar. Jewish people have long been stereotyped as insular, traditional, and cold to outsiders (consider the gentile furor over "goy"). All of this passes under the surface of the text - where Tolkien does not elaborate, this rises to the surface to color the reading.

When fans identify these elements in the text (and realize they are very similar to Tolkien's handling of the Dwarvish sacking of Doriath, or gold sickness, or Dwarvish isolationism as a whole), they begin to investigate the places they show up in text. The meta they write must try to syncretize the canon of what is said with the authorial context applied in the characterization. The fic they write must try to fill in lazy gaps left, and to imagine and then confront the missing exigence to the conflict while refuting the antisemitic presuppositions upon which the text relies in place of characterization.

Because it's fanwork, some people may have concepts that you think miss the mark or push further with assertions than you think is logical. However, no one who is in good faith creating, exploring, or trying to remedy the issues of the text, can be accused of using their ideas as a cudgel against canon or against others. Discussion is welcome, when it is conducted in good faith as well.

Relying too heavily on the surface-level assertions of canon to shoot down these musings at times verges upon what I have described above: leaning into the in-world justifications of hierarchy and subjugation to excuse the real-world hierarchies upon which these presuppositions are built. It is not so important how or when the Sindar realized the Petty Dwarves were people: what matters is that Tolkien created a character group, designed to be hated and pitied but never respected, onto whom he mapped real world stereotypes, and set them up in events where these stereotypes lead. It's highly worth considering why we are defending portions of text that are inherently bigoted. The whole broth here is the issue, but people are quibbling over whether they've fished out a potato versus a turnip.

[yieldtotemptation]

ANIMALS ft. Natty

natty x male reader smut

10k words

“All I’m saying is,” Natty starts, like she always does, with more unsolicited advice than you can handle at 2 AM, "for someone that complains so much about not having a sex life, you really don’t do much to fix it."

“And what, oh wise friend of mine, is your recommendation.”

“I don’t know. Get a haircut. Dress better. Try not being a massive pussy?” Natty shrugs. Or at least you think she does. Only so much you can tell over the phone.

You sigh. Bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. But then, who else would talk you to sleep at this ungodly hour? So instead, you concede the point. “Noted.”

“Or, you know, if it’ll stop you from being such a little bitch,” and now she’s laughing, cackling really, and not once has that ever, ever meant anything good. "You could always just fuck me."

—

Two weeks and twelve hours post-Natty’s incredibly unhelpful suggestion that did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your insomnia, and you’re back on the phone with her.

Only this time, there's video.

So, yay.

"Help me, please."

It’s a Friday and Natty's begging, again.

Because she knows she can count on you, knows that you’ve long since resigned yourself to your fate as Natty’s on-call ‘fixer’. There for everything from life-changing career decisions to helping her figure out what show to stream next.

And now, apparently, choosing her outfit for tonight.

“Help me, help me, help me, help me.”

God, this woman and her begging. Knowing full well that it’s your kryptonite.

"Okay, okay, okay," you're relenting, much earlier than usual. Mostly because as far as Natty’s petulant requests usually go this one’s a walk in the park. “But don’t you have people for this sort of thing? People who don’t, and I quote, ‘have a dogshit taste in style?’”

“It is dogshit!” Natty calls out, already turned around and leaving you (her phone) on the vanity, facing out to her bedroom and all its hideous pinkness. She disappears from the screen, diving deep into her closet for yet another pair of shorts that will most certainly hug way too close, or a top that dips way too low, or a pair of heels that scream—'hey, I have legs, would you like to spread them?' "But!"

Natty returns to the camera with a leather belt—oh no, that's a leather skirt—in hand; clad in nothing but a casual cotton bra/underwear combination that she’s filling out far too well for your sleep-deprived brain to handle.

She holds up the skirt against her waist for your consideration. Poses. It wouldn't cover a thing. Or maybe that's the point—again, you don't have any fashion sense, whatsoever.

“You’re a man, and I need a man’s opinion because I’m hoping to take one home tonight to fuck my brains out until I forget about this shit-storm of a week. So, you know—help a girl out?”

“As always, you have quite a way with words.”

Natty leans towards the camera, bending down to stare right at you. It makes entirely too much sense that she’s built an entire career around doing just this.

“It’s my third language, asshole.”

The insult lands softer than she likely intended, considering well, you’re a little too distracted to take it. It’s entirely her fault. The angle makes her tits look far too immaculate to pay any attention to her mouth.

Maybe she should consider going out just like this?

Yeah, that’d definitely get her fucked.

But, she frowns before you can make the suggestion, turning on her heels and sashaying back to her closet, leaving you to choke on air at the sight of her ass stretching out her favourite pair of panties. (The white pair with the pretty-pink bows. The one that rides up her ass when she stretches, bends, sneezes—basically any time she’s not standing perfectly still. And even then.)

Anyone else and this whole thing would be weird. Well, weirder than it already is.

See, you and Natty have this thing; this odd, cat and dog relationship that’s been going on since what feels like the dawn of time:

You’ve watched her shamelessly cycle through men faster than a teenager through a box of tissues, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken cocks in her wake.

While she’s been forced to witness every time you’ve met ‘the one’, only to be there months later to help pick up the pieces when you’re burying your feelings in video games and alcohol and porn, wondering how it all went so wrong.

All this to say that seeing Natty bouncing around in her underwear with that laser-beam of a smile of hers; with all of her soft curves, thick thighs, her ridiculous ass and again, those immaculate fucking tits isn't that unusual.

In fact, it doesn't really do anything for you at all.

(Fucking liar.)

“Here, how about this.” Natty appears from the corner of the screen, having found a top that’s somehow made of even less material than the bra she’s already got on. The gall of her to ask, "Too much or not enough?"

You deadpan. “Does it come in adult sizes too?”

Natty grins, because she can read it right on your stupid face. She looks so, unbearably hot. Without even trying that hard. This bitch. “So just right, then.”

And then she twirls, leaving you to face her back, and before you even have time to blink, Natty’s bra has fallen down her shoulders; and you’re hating how you lean in to look because this damn app has no zoom feature to save your sorry eyesight.

Her fucking tits. Perfect, bouncy. Even through the pixels, even from behind, you can still see the way they spill.

She slips on her chosen top for the evening—a tiny, strappy number—and spins back around to face you in all her Natty glory. By the skin of your teeth, you’re looking away and leaning back, feigning nonchalance and leaving her none the wiser.

You think.

“You know,” Natty says, tilting to one side, hand on hip. Fuck, even that slightest movement makes them bounce. Utterly, utterly obscene. “You should just come tonight.”

You’re saying, “Fuck no,” before she’s even finished her sentence. ‘Coming tonight’ means ‘clubbing’, and ‘clubbing’ means being stuck listening to the shittiest music, surrounded by the worst people in all of Korea, drinking overpriced slop and watching Natty turn down a revolving door of douchebags on the dancefloor.

So, yeah.

If ‘fuck no’s’ were bricks, you’d be building the Great Wall of ‘Fuck No’, big enough for aliens on the other side of the galaxy to see with a fucking telescope and have their first contact with the human race be a giant ‘Fuck No’.

And that’s your polite way of turning her down.

Yet somehow, Natty’s hardly deterred.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Natty sing-songs, shuffling on her tiptoes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, making her entire body jiggle. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to sell you on the idea with every little movement. Make you believe that if you came with her, you’d be able to find someone who comes close to looking half as good as she does in that… whatever-the-fuck that is. Bralette? Crop top? Whatever. Fat chance. "Come on, come, come, come. Be my wingman please!"

You already have your second ‘fuck no’ queued up, but Natty just won’t stop fucking talking.

“Don’t you want to get laid? Don’t you think you need to have fun after what’s-her-name?” Natty continues, pouting at you through the screen.

And there it is, a study in how Natty usually gets her way—jutting out her bottom lip, digging her thumb into the waistband of her panties to expose just a smidge more skin, leaning just right to make her tits look like they’re about to pop out. It’s like she’s got a fucking manual.  

“Don’t tell me you’d rather stay at home with Handalf the Grey than come out with me and all my hot friends?”

“You mean having to clean up after all your ‘hot friends’ and their bullshit while you run off to score free drinks?” You retort, recalling all the other times when she managed to entice you out of your self-imposed isolation and into the deafening, sweaty hellhole known as a nightclub.

“Said hot friends that you’re too much of a pussy to hit on, mind you,” Natty chides, and then oh-so-casually decides to drop this nugget: "They all like you, you know, they'd be more than happy to break this dry spell of yours if you just asked. Don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at Julie."

You can feel your cheeks reddening. You’re not a teenager. You shouldn’t blush at this shit. But here you are, falling for Natty’s words and their magical abilities to needle at your insecurities and fill your head with thoughts of her friends and all their... well, incredibly positive attributes.

Natty pounces on your lapse in composure and gets closer to the camera, crouches. Drops down so she’s on her heels and all you can see in that tiny window of your phone is the red of her plush, plump lips.

“Come, you pussy—”

“Natty—”

“Do it pussy—”

“Natty, if you think that’s going to work—”

“Pussy, pussy, pussy—”

You’re yelling down the phone: “Fuck, fine!”

Natty’s victory dance is already in full swing before the words have even left your mouth. Bouncing around her room in pure joy at once again having ruined your evening. Dancing in that barely-there outfit, treating you to entirely sinful ripples across her curves and dips, pure sex on a pair of toned legs. Really makes you wonder how the fuck is she not illegal in at least fifty different countries.  

You hide your face in your hands, because there it is, the reason you’ve never really been able to deny her:

Her laughter, her energy, her fucking shameless glee whenever she manages to get her way (which, if you’re keeping count, is every single time).

She’s just so frustratingly adorable.

Somewhere in her celebrations, Natty finds exactly what she was looking for. Reaches down to the floor, picking up a belt—no, that’s another skirt—this one even tinier than the first.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she preens, holding it out to the camera (to you), before stepping right into it. She spins around, making it dance around her hips. It does wonders for her thighs. "How do I look?”

You swallow. “Like you’re going to get fucked tonight.”

The glint in Natty’s eyes. Like you’ve just served up the finest compliment on a silver platter. You feel sorry for whatever poor soul crosses her path tonight.

Natty winks. “Here’s to hoping.”

—

Guess what?

Turns out you were right: this is the worst place in the world.

Only, you’re the sole person here that seems to think that.

Hours have passed since you helped Natty look perfectly fuckable and you’re at the bar, trying and failing to get the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he, like every other male with a beating heart and a boner seems far more interested in Natty’s little dance routine than his thirsty clientele.

You can’t blame him, really. It’s built in how she moves.

Strobe lights cutting through the air like knives, slicing her into this series of absolutely pornographic snapshots as she dances. And she’s not alone, she has friends—beautiful, all of them, in their own ways. They spin and twirl around her; but Natty’s the sun here, the star that everything orbits.

(You included).

You see it play out—the Natty effect. Men, even women alike gravitate to her, drawn by that magnetic force that is Natty at her very best. Trying to get a dance, maybe whisper a line they stole from some movie in her ear, even dare to reach out to touch or press themselves up against her.

But she’s a black hole, a dark star. Can’t get too close.

One by one, they’re swallowed up by the void of Natty’s disinterest. The shoulders slump, the smiles falter, and the hope in their eyes dies as Natty, with a simple flick of her wrist sends them stumbling back into the crowd, forgotten almost immediately.

And the whole time she’s doing this, she’s got you in her line of sight. A wink here, a smile there, a dance on its own; and all you can do is nod and pretend like you’re okay with all this.

You inhale. Deeply.

Her outfit looks even tinier in person.

You turn away for just a moment, shaking off thoughts of Natty, of her hips and their sway and her winks and her smile; attempting (and failing) to flag down the bartender once more.

This fucking night.

But, when you look back, Natty’s no longer on the dancefloor.

She’s standing next to you. Arms looping around your neck.

“Natty—”

But she’s not listening. Her eyes are darting around the room, searching for something—or someone—that you can’t see. Your stomach clenches, because that look on Natty’s face? That’s not her usual I’m-about-to-make-some-poor-soul-my-bitch look. That’s something else entirely. That’s fear.

“Shut up, I need a favour,” she’s in your ear, yelling over the thrum of the bass that’s rattling your ribcage.

You lean in, bend down to meet her, because, frankly, you’re worried. You’ve never seen Natty like this, wide eyed and shaky. Never seen her be anything but comfortable.

You’ve also never been this close to her. Felt her breath hot against your neck, felt her body press up against you, felt her softness, felt her—

Fuck, you should be asking her what’s wrong, but before you can even do that, the bartender's filling two shot glasses and sliding them over to Natty.

She takes one. You take the other. It tastes lethal.

Natty’s nails dig into the back of your neck, and she looks at you, intense. Words fast and frantic. “Just pretend we’re together, okay? For a bit. Until I can figure this out. Just—just keep playing along, yeah?”

You blink. The room blurs around you. You think you might’ve misheard. “What?”

“Be my boyfriend,” she says, taking a second shot before you can even digest the first. “I need you. There’s some creep and I need you. Now, please?”

You turn immediately, scanning the floor, but the lights and shadows make it near impossible to make out anything other than vague shapes and strobes of colour, let alone pinpoint a face. "Natty, where is he, I can—"

"No, no, no," she cuts you off with a shake of her head. “Focus on me.”

“Wait, why do I have to—”

“Oh, shit there he is—”

And then she’s kissing you.

Ending whatever argument you may have had, because she’s grabbing, pulling you in, and her lips are on yours and oh fuck, she’s really, really kissing you.

It’s a slap to the face, and you need to reel in from the sting. Because you’re already forgetting what you’re doing, forgetting how your limbs work, because Natty’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and you’re having trouble keeping up.

Her hands are in your hair, yours at the small of her back, and she’s pulling you close, squishing against you and the taste of her—sweet like candy and sharp like vodka—filling you all the way up.

Your tongue catches up, flicking against hers, licking inside of her mouth and she’s even convincing you—as if she’s the one that’s always been into the love at first sight bullshit and you’re the non-believer.

And it’s a problem, how right this feels. Because this isn’t what friends do—definitely not Natty and you. But still, you can feel her tension, her need for this to be believable; and you don’t dare to fuck it all up.

So you kiss her back, because that’s what you do for Natty.

You always do what she needs.

You’re about to pull away; this should be enough to have every single person here convinced that you’re hers and she’s yours. But Natty’s already sliding her tongue back in your mouth, pleading, “Keep going,” the moment a gap opens between your lips; and you’re diving back into the kiss without a second thought.

And then you hear it.

A flash of a camera.

A cheer.

A whistle.

Julie, Haneul, Belle—Natty’s friends, staring at you like proud fairy godmothers witnessing their own magic at work.

You break the kiss. You look down at Natty.

She giggles.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

"There is no creep, is there?"

Natty shrugs, looks up at you, and she actually looks—what is this? Shy? Embarrassed?

"There could’ve been," she says, her eyes wide and innocent, a mask. You see through her like you should have when she first wrapped her arms around your neck.  Oh sure, like she’s ever been innocent for a second in her entire life.

She’s far too smug for that.

You roll your eyes. You feel like every other idiot that’s ever fallen for a bat of her lashes and a peek at her tits. Hope is a hell of a drug, especially when Natty’s the dealer. And yet, despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up. "You're fucking insane."

“Maybe.” There’s a long pause. She’s staring at your mouth. She presses a finger to your sternum. “But I had to do something.”

It takes a second. What?

What does that mean?

You stare at Natty, lick your lips. Her taste still lingers.

“Ask yourself the same question I’ve been asking myself for months now,” she says, louder this time, her voice cutting through the noise of the club and hitting your ears with a sobering clarity.

You know what she’s going to say—what she’s going to ask before she’s even opened her mouth. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing too.

So, swallow hard, try to ignore the way Natty’s friends have gone quiet. Try to ignore Natty’s hand still resting against your chest, her eyes burning a hole right through you.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?”

The blood’s rushing to your cheeks; the music's too loud, the lights too bright, and the room's suddenly spinning around you like a carousel.

Fucking embarrassing.

But Natty doesn’t crack a smile. She just looks up at you. Hopeful. Searching you, searching your eyes for an actual answer; and you already know what it is.

“Because, Natty, we’re friends.” You offer up a weak smile, hoping against hope that she’ll buy it.

But she shakes her head. “Oh, please. Like that’s ever stopped anyone before. Besides, if you want to put a label on it, call it whatever the fuck you want. I just know what I need. Do you?”

You sigh. She gets closer. And closer.

Until your nose is brushing hers. Until her breath is hot on your face, until your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your ears. Until her hand is sliding down, down, down, until it’s resting over your pants and oh, oh no, you’re straining.

You gasp. She smirks.

“See? You want it too. And I know you do, because, sweetie, your cock’s practically begging me to pull it out and shove it between my tits right here in front of everyone.”

She just throws it out there, so casually, so bluntly, she might as well be talking about the weather. And maybe, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Natty being Natty, but fuck you can’t do anything but stay frozen still.

You’re letting her hand linger. You’re letting her touch you like she’s got every right in the world. You’re letting her because there’s a part of you—the part that’s growing by the second—that wants to see just how far she’ll take this.

“So, what is the real reason, ba-by?”

Because you’re in love with her. You’re in love with her, and you can’t just have casual sex with someone you’re in love with because it will ruin you.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you just tell her: “Timing.”

That makes her laugh. Has her closing what little gap remained between your bodies, until her tits are flush against your chest, and you’re coming to the conclusion that, yes, you did help her pick out the perfect outfit for tonight.

Perfectly, hopelessly, fuckable.

“Well,” she says, and she’s pulling you back down again and shutting you up with yet another kiss. “We’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

—

You’ve been here before.

Many, many times before.

You installed the showerhead and fixed all the cabinets yourself. Even secured the lock that you’re now unlocking with the digits that you coded.

But somehow, it feels like a first.

First time you’ve kissed her in the back of a car, pushed your hand up her skirt, felt the heat of her against your fingertips. First time you’ve pinned her against the wall of an elevator, made her feel just how desperate you were for her against her thigh, made her promise to be so good for you when you got to her door.

First time being pulled through the threshold, hands at your chest, tearing your shirt off you before you’ve even stepped foot in her apartment. Had her smiling against your mouth, because she’s won, again, and you can’t even bother to argue because you’ve lost to her so many times now that this shouldn’t be so surprising.

What is surprising though is how you’re naked first.

"Terrible, terrible taste." Natty's clicking her tongue as your shoes, your shirt, your pants are scattered along the floor behind you. “We’ll have to fix that.”

And then she’s moving on, hands clawing down your stomach to land at the waistband of your underwear, hooking her thumbs in and yanking down. You’re so obviously hard—you’ve barely made any effort to hide it from her—fuck, you pretty much flagged down the taxi with it.

"Holy fuck," is the first thing out of Natty's mouth when she takes a hold of you, feeling the naked weight of you in her palm. "You’re really not messing around, are you? I was expecting—"

"A sad, lonely little thing," you finish for her, because you've heard it before. "Yeah, you like to mention it a lot."

But Natty’s not laughing now.

She’s just staring. Almost reverently. She decides, her voice a little raspy, tinted with an apprehension that you never knew she was capable of mustering, "I like it. It's... massive."

You lean in, pressing your mouth against hers because if she’s going to say that, you’re going to kiss her, again and again, and there’s a strong possibility you're never going to stop.

She whimpers, gasps into your mouth, says your name for the first time—not some nickname, not a jab or an insult. Just your name, in your ears, like it’s something sacred.

You’re not a saint. You can’t ignore that.

Your cock jumps in her hand, and as if on instinct, she strokes you.

It's slow, purposeful. She's too good at this. Knows the right pressure, where to twist and wind her wrist. How to sweep her thumb over the tip, smear pre-cum over your skin, and this entire time she's staring down at your cock like she's discovered something new.

“This is going to ruin me, isn't it?” she whispers, and you nod, because your voice is lodged in your throat and she’s stealing the air from your lungs. “Going to fit so fucking nicely inside me. Fuck it’s going to stretch me.”

You groan, collapse your weight into Natty, press your lips against the column of her throat.

Both hands now, one underneath, toying with your balls, balancing them in her fingers, and the other doing its best to squeeze, to pump, to make you fall for her with every stroke.

“I can’t wait to ride this,” Natty kisses these words into your cheek, your jaw, leaves these marks all over your collarbone. “I wonder if I can fit it down my throat. God, can you imagine what it’ll look like between my tits?”

And that makes your cock throb.

Because face it, Natty has always had a way of getting into your head; is far too dangerous with her words, and she’s all too willing to abuse this power she has over you to get you do what she wants, which is now, apparently, fucking her senseless.

You let her, let her build and build this pressure, let it coil inside you, tighter and tighter. Until the need to feel her, all of her, is too much to handle.

Until you grab her, take her by the shoulders, push her—not hard, but firmly—against the nearest wall.

You’re not gentle about it, because Natty doesn’t want gentle. She wants rough, she wants passionate, she wants to be fucked and have her cunt worshipped by way of complete ruin.

She’s told you as much.

"That's more like it," Natty bites into your ear, grips your shoulders. She follows your eyes. "Let me guess, my tits?"

So, maybe she has caught you looking once or twice. Either way, you don’t care much for her top anymore, it’s served its purpose. You take a fistful of it and pull, ripping it right off her and tossing it to the floor with everything else that’s kept the two of you from tearing each other apart.

“Better?” Natty poses for you, puts her tits on display—and yeah, you were right all along. Fucking immaculate.

You take a hold of one, palm it; fill your hand with flesh, twinge those dark, plump nipples, because of course you’re going to. You’re going to pinch and squeeze and suck on them. You’re going to mark her like she’s already done to you. Mark them, with your teeth, with your tongue. Fuck, you’re going to make them yours.

But for now, you're just going to slap them, because you want to watch them jiggle up close.

You laugh. Natty does too.

"Much better."

And with that, you’re back on her. Kisses that are sloppy, wet, and filled with all the pent-up want that's been simmering for months. You don’t even know where to begin with Natty, but you start with her mouth. It’s a good place. It’s always a good place with Natty.

Her hand doesn’t stop moving, can’t, won’t. The friction is heaven; you just let her touch you, fuck her hand while you indulge in her tits. Get to know the weight of them, the balance, the softness.

A sigh into your ear as your tongue finally finds her breasts, deep and messy, sliding over her nipple—she’s already so sensitive, just a flick and she’s gasping. You’re not even trying to be precise anymore, not that Natty needs it, not that she needs anything but for you to enjoy yourself against her.

It all makes the room seem smaller, the walls close, surrounding you with the scent—cinnamon and sweat and something else that’s just her.

“See this is why fucking me is such a great idea,” she slurs against your shoulder, hand tightening, stroking you harder, faster.

You mumble an affirmative into her breast. It’s a miracle you can still stand upright.

“Isn’t this so much better than like everything else? Anyone else?” She sighs, breathy, sweet sounds, as she takes you by the wrist, guides your hand southwards.

Fingertips graze her stomach, trace around her belly button and lower; until you’re digging into her skirt and feeling the heat rise off her skin. She’s soaked right through her panties, dripping with it. Another place for your tongue to land.

“We can just be fucking honest with each other,” Natty’s explaining, eyes tearing when your finger pads her clit, pressing down just right. “You already told me all the things you hate. All the things your bitch exes never let you do.” And she smiles, wicked. “Never had the tits to give you.”

Christ.

“And I can get you to fuck me exactly how I want with this big, fucking cock,” Natty finishes. "We’re a perfect fucking match."

It’s at that moment you find the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down, watching it fall to the feet. Leaving Natty to step out of the tiny scrap of fabric she calls her panties; abandoning the sticky mess of cotton.

You take a step back, unlatch your lips from her tits, because you need to see it. Need to finally see her, see your Natty, see the Natty you've never allowed yourself to look at.

So, take your time, drink her in—because the way she’s standing there, the way she’s touching herself now; biting her lip, sighing your name. All but saying, ‘Look all you want, but don’t you dare look away’.

Look at the arch of her neck, the red you’ve left there, that trail you’ve burned down to her tits. Bruised and swollen from your tongue, your kisses, and yet still not marked enough. Follow the curve of her hips; how they flare out from her waist, the plush squish of her ass cheeks against the wall behind her.

You want to kiss her, from the tips of her toes to the top of head; all of her, every part of her, because now she’s going to finally let you.

Because now you're going to fuck her until all she knows is you, going to make her scream your name, going to make her beg for you to fill her with your cock and cum and never ever leave her cunt empty again.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But Natty’s got plans of her own.

“Didn’t you say,” Natty begins, sighing, circling her cunt in a rhythm that you’re dying to recreate. She licks her lips. “That your last ex refused to suck that lovely, magnificent cock of yours?

"Yeah," you stammer, at a loss for breath at just the sight of it all. “And weren’t you trying to find someone to fuck your brains out?”

Natty’s eyes light up; and there's that easy, charming grin that knocks you right off your feet. "You’ve always been such a good listener."

—

Natty's plotting to ruin you.

It's the only possible explanation for the way she's looking at you right now—on her knees, at the foot of her bed, flanked by walls painted an ugly shade of pastel pink and Natty's tits, sandwiching your cock.

You’d imagined it, thought about it when you shouldn’t have been thinking about it. Whenever she brought you to watch her perform, whenever she sent you pictures of her outfit of the day. But your eyes always went there. Straight to Natty’s tits, every time.

You knew they were big.

You’ve felt them, on accident (though they don’t seem like accidents anymore).

But now, to have them enveloping your cock, drowning your shaft in their softness, and to have her, staring at your face with so much fucking excitement as she gives you everything you’ve ever wanted—it’s surreal.

You’re dying to paint them white.

“Looks like you’re already about to fall apart, baby,” she teases, and it’s even worse now that she’s calling you these sweet names, saying them like she’s always wanted to, like she’s finally letting herself. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Fuck, Natty—” you breathe out, your hands finding her hair, tightening, because that’s all you can manage to do when Natty’s in control. Like she’s always been.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, keeping her eyes on you, making sure you’re watching, even as her tongue flicks out to taste you. A slow, taunting lick to make you buck your hips, desperate to feel the suction of her lips. “You must have been dreaming about this, huh?”

You don’t bother lying. She already knows the answer. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Natty’s smile spreads across her face, and she rewards you with a kiss, pressing her lips down onto the head of your cock; before sliding them lower, eyes fluttering shut with the first taste of you. “Well, what took you so long? All you needed to do was show me your cock and I’d have been happy to do it whenever you want me to. Happy for you to use my tits as your cum rag. You know that, right?”

She moves; and the sight of it alone—Natty’s tits wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down, hypnotising you with the flicker of her nipples—up and down, up and down. It’s merciless, unrelenting, and she keeps talking, keeps kissing these sweet little words into your cock that makes your hips jerk, trying to fuck her tits faster, harder.

"Look at how perfect you look," Natty keeps going, "how your cock fits so snug."

The sounds she’s tearing from your throat as her tits take you, and she’s barely even started.

“But we can do better, can’t we?”

Her pace picks up, and with it, the tightness of your grip on her hair. She’s pushing the ample mounds together, squeezing, putting her whole body into it, into this new art she’s pioneering. Driving you insane with just her breasts, making you swell between them, throbbing as she works you over.

“So big," she’s panting from just the effort, the bounce, bounce, bounce of it all, "I can feel you getting so much bigger."

Everything’s going too fast, her tits are too soft, her lips on you too hot, and she’s drooling, her spit dripping down onto your cock. You want to tell her to stop, that you can’t take it, but Natty just keeps going.

"Fuck,” Natty mewls, pinching her own nipples, for you, for her. Pinching and rolling them, making them nice and stiff and swollen. “Let me just try and—”

She cranes her head, bends; takes your cock deeper into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue darts out licks your cock, gets that sweet spot on the underside, makes you shake underneath her.

Natty holds you there, even as you groan, even as your hips rise; just licks, spits, sucks. Her mouth moving up and down on you, making a mess down your shaft, down her tits. Taking you deeper, deeper, until you’re fucking her face.

She moans around you as your hips buck and you push deep, desperate for it. Her eyes water, her cheeks hollow, and she’s got you. You’re in her mouth and she’s loving it. Loving the power she has over you, loving giving you what she wants, loving how you’re pulling her by the hair, desperate to feed her more of your cock into her throat.

Like your entire relationship has been building up to this moment—to Natty’s tits wrapped around you, her mouth all over you, her eyes on yours, watching as you fuck her face.

"Fuck, Natty," you grunt, your voice barely recognisable. "What the fuck—"

But Natty's just smiling, you’re fucking that smug little smile on her lips, and she’s taunting you. "Come on baby, keep going, keep going."

It’s utterly obscene—the smack of her lips around your cock, her slobbering all over you, her gagging, her moaning around you, looking up at you and asking, “Is that all you’ve got?”

You're so close, so fucking close, and she knows it. Moving her tits faster, faster, and you're about to blow your load all over Natty's pretty face, her chest.

But she keeps talking.

Even as you stuff her cheeks, even as you muffle her, “None of those other skinny bitches could do this, could they, could handle this big, fat cock?”

Even as you force her down, pull her by the hair, “You’ve been so obsessed with my body, so obsessed with my tits, haven’t you?”

Even as her tits slide off you and your cock smacks her across her cheek, “I always saw the way you looked at them, fuck I was showing them off for you, you just took too fucking long to notice.”

She won't stop fucking talking.

You finally snap. "God, are you ever going to stop?"

But Natty just laughs, bats her lashes. Slides her tongue from your base to your tip. "Maybe you should find something to gag me with."

Your hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes go wide, to make her mouth pop open. She rolls out her tongue for you, and you know what she expects you to do, what she expects you to fill her mouth with.

But you don’t—instead, you fill it with your kiss.

It's deep, it’s bruising, it’s saying ‘fuck you’ in the sweetest way possible, without uttering a single syllable. Natty laughs against your mouth, a ‘fuck you’ right back with her teeth, biting down on your lower lip. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise is there.

Her hand leaves your cock to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to her, her mouth eager for yours, and you don’t even think twice before you hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Giggling again—another sound that’s going to be your undoing—before you’re both stumbling back onto her bed.

The mattress dips under the weight of your bodies falling back into it. Natty straddles you, presses her cunt down onto your thighs. So wet you can feel it on your thigh, leaving your skin sticky and stained with her. Your hands move to her hips, dragging her closer, so you can feel the friction grinding against your cock, making you ache.

She breaks your kiss, gasping for air. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide—seeing her pant like this, it’s not even fair. She’s just so fucking beautiful, like a painting you’re afraid to touch because you might smudge it.

You tell her as much.

She blinks. Blushes.

Grins.

“You,” Natty breathes, her hand trailing down your chest, finding your heartbeat, resting there for a beat, two, “are so fucking in love with me.”

You don’t argue because she’s right.

Her hand slides up your arms, nails dig in and she’s got your wrists, pinning them over your head. You let her. Let her grind herself against your cock, feel the warm, wet heat of her cunt against the tip.

She takes her sweet time, melting herself into you, pressing her tits into your chest, and you can feel her heart racing against yours.

She whispers, “God, I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, so you just grunt.

“I’ve dreamt about this so much,” she continues, breathless words sending shivers down your spine. “Your cock, fuck, it’s just as perfect as I imagined. And now, it’s all mine.”

And then she does it—she sinks down onto you, slow and sweet, her pussy taking you in inch by glorious inch. You groan into her shoulder, your eyes shut as Natty’s tight heat surrounds you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before; sure there’s been others but something about Natty’s cunt is so intense it’s almost painful.

“So tight,” you grit out, the words torn from your chest like they’re made of glass. She just laughs, low, sultry, and starts to move.

It’s a dance, a rhythm that’s been building between the two of you for what feels like an eternity. She’s rocking her hips back and forth in this torturous grind. Fucking you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, like she needs to make the most of it. Like you’re going to vanish into thin air the second she lets you go.

“I knew you’d feel this good,” Natty sighs into your neck, already surrendering to your cock. “Fuck, I knew it—why did you keep this from me?”

You can’t answer, not really.

You’re too lost in the feel of her, too consumed by the way she’s moving on top of you. Every inch of her body is pressed against yours, and she’s so warm, so alive, that you can’t think of anything but how Natty’s finally letting you in. How she’s letting you make her whole.

But it’s too much. Natty’s cunt, tight and wet, fucking you so slow it’s a fucking crime. Pinning you down, a butterfly on a board spread out, displayed, unable to do anything but take her sweet, sweet punishment. And she’s whispering it in your ear, grinding down, rolling her hips, “Fuck you. Fuck you for keeping this from me,” with every stroke.

She’s doing it on purpose, you’re sure of it. Driving you crazy, making you beg, making you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. Your hips jerk up to meet her, trying to speed things up, to get that friction you need, but Natty just pushes down on your shoulders, keeping you in place.

So you tell her, "This is fucking torture."

Natty just smirks, her hips never stilling. "Is it?" she asks, as if this all isn’t intentional. Like she doesn’t have some grand plan to ensure you never forget the things her cunt can do to you. "Do something about it then."

So, you do.

It takes more effort than you’ll ever admit, but you break her grip on your wrists, grab her hips, and flip her over, sending her sprawling onto the bed, face down.

The squeal from her. It’s music.

How her eyes go wide when you treat her like a ragdoll, how her tits juggle and bounce, smacking the mattress. And when you push down into her, slamming your hips into her ass, how she arches back into you, her back bowing like a fucking violin.

“Yes!” She cries, fucking cheers into the mattress, like she’s been waiting for this—for you to have had enough of her shit and take her without asking. “Yes, yes, yes—”

You hover over her, throb inside her. "Is this what you fucking wanted?"

Natty sighs into the bedsheets, urging her hips against you, begging without words, begging for you to do more.

“You want it rough, baby?”

“Yeah,” Natty says, pushing back against you again, nodding immediately. “If you can.”

Still with the provocations, unable to resist pressing at your buttons.

You grab her hair, yank it back so she’s staring at you, force her to look at you. And you fuck her hard. Fuck her like you’ve wanted to since the first time she walked into your life and decided to make it all about her.

You fill her with deep, long strokes, fill the room with the smacks of your hips colliding against her, of your cock thrusting into her cunt again and again.

She claws at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to push back against you. But you’re too strong, too desperate.

You pound into her, impale her with your cock, watch her face twist in pleasure, in pain. You’re fucking her like you’re trying to break her, like she asked. Trying to solve her—how hard can she take it, how deep, how fast.

But Natty won’t give you an answer, she just takes it all—every inch, ever pump into her sopping wet cunt. Just grins and takes every bit of your need, your frustration. A bottomless pit of pleasure, begging for more with every whine, every little noise she makes that’s not quite a scream but is so close that it rattles your brain.

And when you finally let go of her hair, Natty’s licking her lips, and without even a care for what it does to you, she coaxes, “You can do better.”

You don’t know how she can talk right now, how she can even think with your cock so deep inside her, but something about the way she says it makes you want to test the limits of her ability to stay coherent.

But first, there’s the problem of her ass.

“Let’s see about that,” you murmur, dragging your hand down her spine, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and coming to a stop at her perfectly rounded ass. It’s a masterpiece, a work of art, and you’ve always had a bit of an artist’s soul.

You do what comes naturally.

A spank against Natty’s ass. Hard, hard enough to make her yelp.

Again—another slap, another yelp, louder, better.

You keep fucking her, keep spanking her, keep watching red bloom across her cheeks and Natty squirm underneath you. The whines get louder, her cunt gets wetter, but it’s still not enough to dull that smug look on her face.

“Fuck yes,” Natty gasps, raises her ass, presenting it to you like a trophy for you to claim. “I always knew you had it in you.”

You grab her hips harder, your knuckles white, your hand a blur as it connects with her ass. It’s so explicit, the sound of it in the quiet of Natty’s apartment—each spank echoing through the room like a gunshot.

But Natty just takes it, her body jolting with each hit, her cunt tensing and tightening around you.

“God, don’t fucking stop,” Natty sputters, tears of pained pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. “You’re using me so good.”

You lean down, kissing hard against her neck, branding her shoulder. You want her to feel you, to remember you. To not be able to ever feel remotely good again without first thinking of you.

"It's your fucking fault, Natty," you growl into her ear. "You drive me mad."

And she laughs, the sound vibrating through her body and going straight to your cock. "Good," she answers, "Good. Be mad. Be angry."

But you’re beyond that now, beyond the point of no return. All that you know is Natty’s cunt, Natty’s ass, Natty’s moans, and Natty’s grin that you’re aching to wipe off her face.

"Fucking hate me if you want," she’s saying, and she can’t seem to stop, "just don’t stop fucking—ah!”

You nearly stop when you realise you’ve finally done it. Finally left Natty out of breath, lost for words. A fucking miracle, really—the kind that makes you feel like a fucking god.

It doesn’t stop her cunt clenching around you, tight as a vice, because even now, Natty’s got some kind of death grip pussy, and she’s using it to fucking kill you.

You whisper in her ear, “You like that?”

Her only response is a breathy, needy little whine, so you spank her again.

And again.

Her cunt tightens. She’s close, so close. You can feel it.

“You like it when I use you, Natty?”

She nods, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth crying into the mattress, a mess of hair and sweat and utter bliss.

“Say it,” you demand, slapping her ass once more, watching as the pain ripples through her. “Say it.”

And Natty does, because she’s a good little whore, because she’s yours now. “Yes, yes, I like it when you use me, when you fuck me like this, when it’s only about you, your cock, your needs, your pleasure—”

God, it feels good to hear her say it, but you still want more than just words. You want her to fucking scream it.

You make the bed shake, knock the headboard against her wall, it’s a competition of what’s going to break first—the frame or her.

“This cunt. Your cunt. I’m going to use it. Fuck it whenever I want.”

But Natty catches you off guard, because that’s what Natty does best. She opens her eyes, looks right into yours, and suddenly she has her voice again: “Whenever I want. You’re going to fucking move in with me.”

You freeze. Your hand mid-spank. Your cock mid-thrust. It throws you entirely off, because, what the fuck?

"You're going to be my boyfriend now," Natty says, wrenching back control, fucking her ass back into you. Stating not asking, leaving no room for argument. "Move in with me, your place sucks anyway."

"You're out of your fucking mind," you start to protest, but she cuts you off with another squeeze of her cunt around you, and now she’s the one fucking you, her hips rolling back and forth in this maddening, sinful way that has you biting down on your tongue to keep from shouting.

"Move in and just fuck me every day," she says, all light and airy, like it’s already been decided, like moments ago you didn’t have her dead to rights. "Morning to night. It would be so fucking nice."

This is real, you know that for sure. It’s not just something she’s saying to get off, not another way to get under your skin. You know it in her voice, she’s deadly serious and suddenly your mind’s racing.

"Come on," Natty purrs, punctuating each word with a slap of her ass against your waist, "You know you want it, why fucking wait?"

She’s not wrong. It makes too much fucking sense to deny. And yet, part of you still can't believe it. That Natty, the girl who's had countless men at her feet, could have any man at her feet, actually wants you. That Natty is underneath you now, eyes glossed over with need, mouth swollen from your kisses, ass cheeks flushed crimson from your palm.

"I'll take such good care of you, baby," she says, unaware that she’s already completely won, unaware that her cunt already has you bending to her will. "Every day, every night.”

You can't help but nod. You're too consumed in her to do anything else. You just let go of everything. The fears, the doubt, the fucking logic.

And Natty says it, the three words that seal your fate—"I'll love you," she cries out, "I'll fucking love you forever if you just keep giving me this fucking cock."

It's like the world stops, like everything you've ever wanted is right there in front of you, wrapped up in Natty's tight fucking body.

You're so close, so fucking close, that you can almost taste it—the sweet release of your orgasm; giving in to Natty’s unbelievably sensational cunt sleeving your cock, pulsing with each thrust, desperate to milk you dry.

There’s nothing left to do but give Natty wants. Fuck her, hammer into her so hard that you’re going to fuck a Natty-shaped hole into the mattress, fucking shatter her bedframe, and then keep drilling her straight through the floor.

And she’s crying out your name, forgetting about everything that isn’t you, isn’t your cock, isn’t the dream of your cum filling her to the brim and spilling out of her cunt every single day for the rest of your fucking lives.

“Are you close, baby? Are you going to cum for me? Please, give it to me, I need it so bad, I need it now, because I'm about to, about to, about to—"

And then it happens.

Fucking destroys her.

It hits. A crescendo that peaks as you bottom out inside her, shaking her to the core. Her cunt spasms about you, her body rises off the bed as if you’re performing a fucking exorcism, and she screams your name so loud it’s only a matter of time before the neighbours come banging on her door.

"Oh my fucking god you—"

Natty gushes around your cock, juices running down your shaft, your balls, and she’s squirting. Oh god, she’s squirting all over the fucking place.

Natty’s body goes rigid, her back arching so much it’s like she’s trying to fold in half, crying, sputtering these words that don't even make sense—until you realise she's speaking an entirely different fucking language.

Not that it matters, because you can tell what she's saying, read it in her body, in the way she's spurting and making a big fucking mess beneath your bodies. Whatever she’s saying sounds utterly depraved, filthy and so, so good to your ears.

It keeps going and going, until she has enough sense to speak your language again, needing to make sure you hear it when she says—"fucking fill me, baby," she whimpers. "Give me everything, all your fucking cum."

And it’s your turn to be hit—like a fucking freight train.

You're cumming, hard and fast and out of fucking nowhere. Your balls tighten, your cock throbs, and you’re flooding Natty’s cunt.

It’s biological, in every cell of your body—like your entire being is coming undone, and the only thing holding you together is Natty, Natty, Natty.

Her body shaking beneath you, her cunt contracting around your cock as wave after wave of cum fills her up.

She’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, that you can feel every pulse of your orgasm, every drop of your cum spurting into her. You're not sure how long it lasts, how much you give her, but it’s enough to make your muscles shake, enough to knock the architecture right out of your limbs.

"So fucking good, so fucking good," Natty coos. "Fucking finally, finally filling me up so good."

Her moans a lullaby, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every syllable. You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your every inhale and exhale ragged as you try to catch your breath. Still twitching inside her, still releasing the last of your cum, and Natty’s just lying there, her body limp, her eyes closed, basking in it all.

"So perfect," she keeps repeating, right up until the very end, “So, so, perfect.”

You collapse on top of her, just lie there shivering together, your face next to hers. She’s got this look on her face, a victorious glow, and you just have to accept it. Yeah, she’s won again, in devastatingly convincing fashion.

For a second, you’re both just that—spent, exhausted, entirely drained. Like you’ve just run a marathon. Or been in a fight. Or both.

Then Natty’s got the nerve to stir, to kiss your cheek with the tenderness of a whisper. Lips softer than you thought possible, given how hard she’s just been fucking you. And that’s it, the moment your body decides it’s had enough of playing dead, enough of lying there like a sack of potatoes.

You roll over, bringing Natty with you, her body curling into yours like she’s been made to fit there. Her head rests on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, and for a moment, you just hold her close.

It feels fucking right.

"Tomorrow," Natty sighs contentedly, her cheek finding home atop your heartbeat.

You blink. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you're moving in tomorrow." Natty’s deciding for you already, setting the dynamic for the rest of your future. Doing all this with her eyes still shut as she snuggles closer to you. "I'll hire the movers."

You sigh, the weight of the world and Natty's body both feeling surprisingly light. You think about the next few days, the weeks, the years even, with Natty. The idea is so ludicrous, so absurd, that it feels like a fever dream.

But as you hold her, feel her warmth, her unabashed, blatant satisfaction, something inside you shifts. A reframing of the concept of Natty that you hold in your head. The thought of her naked body in your bed, her laughter in your living room, her mess in your kitchen—it doesn’t feel like an intrusion, it feels like home.

"Are you sure?" you ask. A little shaky, a little hopeful.

Natty opens one eye to look at you, a laugh playing on her lips. "Oh, you know I'm going to be the worst fucking roommate ever."

"Yeah, I can see that. But as long as you keep being the best fucking everything else..." Your words trail off into a whisper, your hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

And then she says it again.

"You’re so fucking in love with me."

Natty kisses you hard, deep, her tongue sliding against yours. And you know, you fucking know, that she's right. You are desperately, entirely, so fucking in love with her, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You laugh, the sound a little desperate, a little wild, and roll her again, pin her down again. A strange feeling rushes through your mind. Like you’re going to be repeating this exact same motion for the next hundred years. And somehow, that doesn’t sound like the worst thought in the world.

Natty squeals, cheers, moans when you settle between her legs.

"Fuck you, Natty."

"Oh, baby," Natty giggles, reaching down between your legs, squeezing you. Once. Twice. Until you're filling her hand once more. "That's what I'm here for."

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

Like You Mean It | H.S

summary: you're tired of only ever meeting trash men, but your best friend and roommate harry shows you that there are still good guys out there, and what it really means to be a giver.

word count: 5.3k

reading time: 22 min

content warning ⚠️: housemate/bff!harry au, nonfamous!harry, friends to lovers, shitty men (not harry), smut, fluff, fingering, penetration (p in v), very light D/s dynamics (if you squint), softdom!harry, dirty talk, nicknames (baby, babe), very light degradation/humiliation kink (if you squint)

a/n:  i saw a text post that said “girl don’t text that man. make yourself cum and forget about him.”(solid advice lol)  and then this happened. also not to be an astrology girlie but he’s an aquarius with libra placements….this man is the perfect fwb.

“Harry, can I get a man's perspective on something?” you ask, turning to Harry next to you on the couch. You had begged Harry out of his room for a movie night as a ruse, but your nose had been buried deep in your phone the whole night. Re-reading and overanalyzing old text messages between you and the object of your anxiety.

You don’t often go to Harry for help with men, but his advice on other areas of your life is always sound, and you respect his opinion.

“If you’re asking me for help, he’s not worth your time.” He sighs, not looking away from the movie, hugging a pillow to his chest. 

“I’m serious, I need your help.” you whine, tugging on his sleeve. He turns and looks at your dramatic pout, “Please.” 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” He huffs. “What is it?” 

“As a man, do you prefer texting or like a call? Or maybe FaceTime?”  

Harry barks out a laugh at the ridiculous question, before looking over at you, and realizing your dead serious. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, tossing his head back against the couch. “I mean I’m more of a talker, and I like seeing who I’m talking to, so I prefer FaceTime. But I guess it depends on the girl and how long I’ve been talking to them. What our situation is, and stuff.  Which one of your boy toys are we talking about?” he asks. 

“Cameron.” you grimace.

Cameron is admittedly your least favorite of the boys on your roster, but your most tenured member. And the one Harry hates most. In the beginning you thought it could be something real. He was sweet and did a decent job at wooing you. That is until - in Harry’s eyes - he coerced you into a friends with benefits arrangement. Harry could tell that you liked him, and to see him treat you as terribly as he did, got Harry’s blood boiling. You deserved better, that much you both could understand. What Harry couldn't understand however was why you would even consider speaking to him again after the last time you were in contact.  

Instead of saying what he truly thought, or giving you a hard time, he just pinched the space between his brow with an exasperated sigh. 

“I know, I know,” you grumble.

“How long has it been since you’ve heard from him?” 

“A while. But he reached out recently and - ” 

“I thought you were done with him.” he deadpans, eyes glued to yours. 

“I was, but we got coffee last week and he apologized.” 

“Coffee?” Harry groans in disgust at the low effort. He pauses the movie, and turns to you, “Don’t text him. Don’t call him. Go back in there,” he says pointing down the hallway towards your room. “Make yourself come, and forget about him. For your sake and mine.” 

“Harry!” you laugh, hitting him with a throw pillow.  

“You think I’m joking, but I’m serious.” he concedes with a chuckle, “You don’t even like him.” 

“I like him enough.” 

“He’s a terrible fuck.” 

“He…gets the job done.” you defend voice cracking. 

“Everytime he leaves, there's suddenly a consistent buzz coming from your bedroom.” He scoffs. You go to defend yourself with heat rising to your face. You stammer a bit but not quite getting words out before he continues, “I’m a grown man, I know what a vibrator sounds like.” He smirks, and you giggle covering your face. 

“Jesus.” you laugh, “Look, I’ve tried your way already…and it’s not doing the trick.” you pout, “So tell me, how pathetic would I be  if I were to reach out to him.”

“I don’t think you’d be pathetic, love.” he soothes 

“Then why are you so against me texting him?”  

Because you deserve better! Why can’t you see that? He thinks, These guys don’t deserve you. If I were them I’d - 

“Harry?” you ask, snapping him out of his thoughts. It’s in the glow of the television, and the small light on the side table that Harry is able to admire your adorable pout and curious eyes. He’s always had a little crush on you throughout the entirety of your friendship. One he knew you could feel and was reciprocated. There were a few drunken confessions of your attraction for one another that were joked about the following morning. Then there was the holiday kiss . One New Year for ‘good luck’. But there was also a promise. A pinky promise, to never risk the friendship you had. To keep things platonic.  It was a promise that was becoming more and more difficult for both of you to keep. 

When you two agreed to move in under the same roof for economic reasons, you knew it would be an adjustment, with both of you having been living on your own for years. But you were excited. Living alone could get lonely and overwhelming. So having your best friend of years, under the same roof and splitting responsibilities felt like a huge weight lifted off of your shoulders. 

But being in such close proximity meant that it was becoming harder to keep your promise. Especially when things just felt so domestic with the two of you. Cooking dinner together, movie nights, cuddling together on the couch. It was hard for both of you not to let your minds wander to a reality where you were more than just friends. 

But you were friends, and as long as that boundary was there, there was nothing stopping either of you from being young, wild and free. So there were parties, and one night stands, and situationships. All in an attempt to distract you both from the truth. Because no matter how pretty the girls were that Harry brought home, no matter how sweet and kind they were. The only face he saw when they were splayed out in his bed…was your. 

And after a very awkward Sunday morning breakfast with one of your one night stands meeting Harry, you stopped bringing guys home all together. Opting for spending weekends away. A change Harry didn’t like, and lectured you over. “It’s not safe. You don’t know these guys. At least if you bring them here, I’m here if you need me.” he’d argued. All that did was keep you from seeing anyone for a while.  Which is how you ended up even considering talking to Camreon again. 

“Look” Harry finally says, turning his body towards you, “if you’re that sexually frustrated I’ll… help you out.” 

You tilt your head, letting out a nervous giggle, waiting for his real response. But it never comes, he just…smirks at you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, heart beating against your ribs. “You’re serious.” Harry nods, biting his lip. The offer was…promising, and the way Harry looked at you was intriguing. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t give you butterflies.  That the last month or so things haven’t  felt different between you two, something less than romantic, but certainly more than platonic. It was messing with your head for sure. But you were friends. Regardless of how fit you thought he was, you didn’t have the right to blow up your over decade long friendship just because you were horny. You clear your throat blinking up at him, shaking your head,“Thanks for the offer, Har but -” 

“Yeah no…you’re right. It’s - dumb idea.” He stammers, “I do think you just need to let off some steam, and then you’ll forget about him.” 

“Yeah. I guess.” 

He sees you deflate a bit at his words, and he realizes you didn’t expect  him to give up so easily. So he tries again a little more directly “And not to be that guy but I’ve been told I’m pretty talented, and if making you come keeps you from making a repeated mistake then I’ll take one for the team.” 

“Gee, thanks.” you scoff. 

“I just mean. You’re my friend, and I’m trying to be a helping hand.” he says sweetly before the smirk returns, “And tongue.” He laughs, and you roll your eyes. “And on a serious note, you’re too special of a woman to have to deal with mediocre sex from a guy that clearly - and I’m sorry to say - couldn’t give two shits about your Love. If you need to…get your rocks off, why not with someone you trust? With someone that actually cares about you?” Harry says sweetly. 

“Really?” you ask, and he nods, “And if we cross this line, it won't ruin our friendship.” 

“Cross my heart.” He says drawing an ‘x’ over his chest. 

“What about Taylor?” you ask, thinking of the pretty blonde that you’ve caught making breakfast in your kitchen a few times. You're trying to give him an out. But he doesn’t take it. 

“Out of the picture.” he smiles, “Has been for a while.” He admits, and before you get a chance to offer your condolences, he asks “So what do you say?”  

“Okay.” 

“Alright.” he smirks, “Come here.” He says softly, reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You scoot closer to him on the couch, your knees touching his thigh.  Your breath hitches in your throat as his other hand rests on your cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb.

He leans in slowly, his breath fanning across your face, his lips inches away from yours. His emerald eyes dart from yours down to your lips, back to your eyes. 

“You’re sure?” he asks. You nod your head slowly, eyes glued to his lips as he speaks. You watch as they curve up into a seductive smirk, “Words, baby. Want to hear you say it.” He coaches. 

He wants to hear you say it because the truth is, he can’t believe this is finally happening. He gets why you both agreed to not cross this boundary for so long. For the sake of your amazing friendship. But being this close to you now, seeing the look in your eye, the want and anticipation. Feeling the way he lit up touching you. It all seemed so silly. Why deny yourselves the pleasure of giving in to such chemistry, when life was so short? 

“I’m sure.” you whisper, “Are you?” 

“Oh, I’m positive.” he purrs, before leaning forward finally bringing his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips on yours. Immediately, the kiss feels different than anything you’ve shared in the past. What starts off as a soft sweet pecks, familiarizes yourselves with one another, quickly evolves into a hurried frenzy. Tongues swirling, teeth clicking, and with Harry’s hand having come down to rest on your neck, thumb caressing your jugular possessively your head was spinning. You gasp  into the kiss, trying to catch your breath but all you could do was breathe in more of Harry. It’s when he nipped at your bottom lip licking at the skin after, that you have a moment of clarity. Pulling away slowly you, run your hand through the hairs at the nape of his neck making him look up at you. 

“You okay?” he asks, worry etched into his features. 

“If we’re going to do this,” you begin, “ I have one condition.” 

“Okay.” he prompts 

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.” you whisper, voice shakily. 

“Planned on it, Love.” He smiles, bringing you back into the kiss, lifting you up onto his lap to straddle him. You drape your arms around his shoulders and lean forward bringing your lips back down to his. Any nerves you’d had earlier slip away with each swipe of his tongue into your mouth, and grind off your hips down onto his hardening cock. He moans into your mouth as you grind your hips into his, and you couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss. 

He sounds so pretty, you thought. 

He lets out another groan, as his hands roam up your thighs to your hips, gripping them firmly and pulling you as close to him as he could. He pulls his lips away from yours in favor of kissing down your neck. His lips roam up and down trying to find your favorite spot, and when he does, you let out a lewd moan, pulling at his hair. He groans into your neck and continues sucking and nibbling. He licks a stirp up your neck, dragging your earlobe into his ear sucking at it. Before he pulls away looking at you with a proud grin on his face, watching you. 

“Why’d you stop?” you pout, leaning your forehead against his. 

“I’m not fucking you on the couch.” He chuckles and you giggle. “Your bedroom or mine?” he asks as he untucks your lip from your teeth with his thumb. “Wherever you’d feel most comfortable.” 

You didn’t have to think for more than a moment before answering. “Is it okay if we go to yours?” you ask nervously. If you were going to get the Harry Styles special, you wanted the whole experience. 

“Of course.” he smiles, giving you a quick peck, “Hold onto me.” he instructs and you hook your arms and legs around him as he stands up and makes his way down the short hallway to his bedroom. He leans in and kisses your cheek 

It is a little strange, how natural it all feels. How your lips seemed to slot perfectly with his, how he grabs your ass so dominantly in his hands, how you instinctually nuzzle into his neck, sucking just below his ear like he did for you. It’s as if  this whole thing, your dynamic, was sitting there all along, just waiting to come to the surface. 

He kicks his bedroom door open, kicking it back closed once inside. Breathy swears falling from his lips as you suck on a spot just below his ear. He sets you down on your feet as you pull away from his neck, bringing your lips back to his. Your hands move from around his shoulders to the elastic of his sweats. You pull at the strings keeping the material around his hips. But Harry stops you, pulling away from the kiss, holding your wrists in his hands.

“Hey, hey.” he coos, tilting your head up to look at him. “This is about you. Remember?” 

“Right.” you sigh, “Sorry.” It was a force of habit. Focusing on pleasing your partner, without much thought of your own pleasure. 

“It’s okay.” he smiles softly, “Don’t worry about me. Just let me take care of you.” He lifts your hands to his lips kissing each of the back of your hands,  “Okay?” you nod and he places a quick peck to your lips,  “Get up on the bed, for me.” There was something in his voice, a tone you’ve never heard before nor could you pin down, but it already had your stomach doing somersaults. 

You crawl your way up the bed, laying down amongst the mountain of pillows and it suddenly hits you what you’ve agreed to. Did you have some nerves about the possibility of ruining your longtime friendship? Of course. But the primary feeling was anticipation. You’ve heard Harry take many women to heaven in this very room, in this very bed through the thin walls of your apartment, dozens of times.  And now as you lay in his sheets… It's your turn.

He watches from the foot of the bed as you settle into his bed, admiring the sight of you there. You're quick to remove your shirt, but you keep your bottoms and bra on. You watch as he strips himself of his band t-shirt, and sweats admiring his tattooed littered chest and arms. Your eyes follow the trail of hair from his navel to the growing tent in his boxer briefs. He notices you admiring, watching as his muscles contract as he moves up the bed to you, a smirk plastered to his lip. 

“Eyes up here.” he jokes, and you snort out a chuckle, as he hovers above you with elbows on either side of your head. You bring your arms, sound his shoulders, pulling him down on you, enjoying the weight of him on top of you. 

“Shut up.” you smile, kissing him. You try to lead the kiss, but eventually give in to Harry, allowing him to choose the pace, too distracted and consumed by the feelings of his hands roaming your body. As he teases your mouth open with his tongue, you nibble at his bottom lip wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. You both moan as the tip of his clothed cock catches onto your clothed pussy. Your pussy throbs at the sensation and you roll your hips up into his, begging for some friction. But Harry holds your hip in the softness of his mattress.  He pulls away, caressing your cheek, running a thumb along your kiss bitten lips. 

“Let me take my time. Want you to enjoy this. I’m going to give you what you need. I promise.” 

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, “Okay.” you sigh

“Just relax.” he leans down, kissing your lips, “Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah - of course.” 

“Good.” Harry smiles, his dimpled smile, before continuing your kiss, hungrily kissing your lips, down to your neck. Kissing and sucking trying to find your most sensitive spot. When he does,  he nibbles and sucks, groaning into you as he feels you relax in his arms, with each swipe of his tongue on your neck. His hand reaches behind you, fiddling with the hooks of your bra. “Can I take this off?” he rasps. 

“Mhmm, yeah.” you rush out, helping him shimmy your arms out of the annoying barrier.  Before you get the chance to pull him back down to you chest to chest, Harry pauses, looking from your chest to your eyes.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous” he whispers, a hand cupping one of your breasts, pinching the pebbled skin of your nipple. He dips his head down, drawing the other nipple into his mouth sucking on the nub, before releasing it with a pop. You couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped your lips. It’s needy and breathy and if it were anyone else above you,  you’d maybe be embarrassed with just how desperate you sound. But the way Harry is worshiping you, and moaning into your chest, you knew he was enjoying this just as much.

He works his way up from your breasts back to your neck, sucking and kissing anywhere his lips could reach. You wrap your hands around his shoulders pulling him in, for a deep kiss, until you feel his fingers tangle into the loose strings of your flimsy lounge shorts. 

“What about these?” he asks against your lips. “Can I take ‘em off?” 

“Please.” you gasp into his mouth. Without breaking the kiss the best you could, you lift your hips, as you help him get the shorts down your legs. 

With nothing but the thin material of your underwear between you.  You could really get a feel of Harry now as he grinded his hips into yours. He was thick, and just as hard as you were wet. After a few nudges of his cock against your pussy, Harry snakes a hand between the two of you, rubbing you through the thin cotton of your panties in small circles. 

“Mmhm.” you moan, rolling your hips into his hand. 

“This okay?” he huffs, leaning his forehead on yours. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling him back down to your face for a kiss. “More.” 

Harry smirked at you teasingly, but obliged. Sliding your panties to the side, his thick warm fingers making contact with your clit. 

“Oh, fuck.” you huff. 

Harry usually likes to tease. He tells the girls in his bed to be patient, to be good girls and wait for the inevitable earth shattering pleasure he’s sure to spring on them. But you're not just some girl in his bed. You’re…you. And he’s never not given you whatever it is you wanted. Because as far as Harry is concerned, you deserve the world. And the truth is, even if you didn’t realize it, you have him wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger. 

“That feel okay?” Harry asks, rubbing you in tight circles. He dips his fingers further down your folds, collecting  the wetness at your entrance to wet your clit. He rubs at your pussy,  up and down, until you start bucking against his hand. 

“Mmhm” you nod, “so good.” you whimper. 

It’s beginning to become harder to focus. All you feel is Harry. His fingers, between your legs. His tongue massages yours. His breath fanning across your face, when he rests his forehead on yours. His hardening cock pressing into your thigh.  His weight on top of you. He was completely consuming your senses. 

His fingers dip down, teasing at your entrance drawing out a deep groan from you as your grip on his shoulders tighten. 

“What’s got you so wet? Huh?” he smirks into the kiss, as he teases your entrance. Your cheeks warm to his teasing tone.

“You.” you whine, “Feels so good, Harry.” 

“Yeah?” he smirks, “And this?” He coos, as he slowly, finally, slides a long finger inside. “This feel good, too?” 

“Oh, god.” you whimper, arching your back into the mattress, gripping at his shoulders.

Harry kisses your check, pulling back admiring how sweet you looked as his finger worked you open, pumping in and out of you. 

“Look at me.” he coos, curling his finger inside to that spongy spot inside of you. “Let me see you baby. Look at me.” He repeats, sweetly kissing your cheek. Slowly, and with all the focus you can muster, you peel your eyes open to look at Harry. “Good girl,” Harry praises, “you’re doing so good, Love.” Your breath hitches at his words as you feel your pussy tighten around his fingers.  “You gonna come on my hand? Already?” He smirks. 

His light teasing, mixed with the pet names, only has you barling closer to the edge. You're so, very close and the way you're looking up at Harry all blissed out has him ready to bust in his boxers. 

“Har-” 

He can sense the frustration. See how close you were, but not quite. He needed to see you come for him. 

“What is it baby?” he coos, kissing your cheek. 

“More. Harry,” you whine, “Please, please plea-” you whine, through a pout.

“Shhh….Okay. You can have,” Harry slowly inserts a second finger, while his thumb circled your clit, “anything you want.” 

“Fuc-” Your moan gets cut off with a kiss, as Harry continues to work his fingers in and out of you.

“There you go. Better?” 

“Ye- yes. Oh my god.” you whine. 

Harry continues working his fingers in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit as you could feel your orgasm barrelling closer. 

“Come on,” Harry encourages, “come on my hand. Come for me.” he pants, through a kiss, fingers curling, maintaining their pace inside of you. 

“Shit!” you moan out, coming apart on his hand. 

“There you go. Good girl.” he praises, kissing you anywhere his lips can reach. You whimper, a shiver shooting through your body as your orgasm shook through you.  “Shhh, I got you. I got you.” he coos, slowing his fingers to a stop.   He withdraws his fingers from your center, eyes remaining on yours as he sucked his fingers clean, moaning around the digits. 

“You taste good.” he smirks, before leaning down, burying himself in your neck, sucking on the spot just below your ear. He pulls away, looking you in the eye admiring your fucked out state. He plants a kiss on each of your cheeks, and then kisses you deeply nipping at your lip. 

“You did so good.” Harry huffs into your mouth. You rake your fingers through his hair, still reeling from your orgasm, trying to use Harry to bring yourself back down to earth. “You’re pretty when you come.” he smiles down at you, kissing your lips, “Do you need a minute?” 

“No.” you mumble kissing his lips, “Just fuck me please.” Harry nods into the kiss, reaching into his nightstand for a condom. He’s quick to get rid of his bottoms and slip on the condom. 

“Harry.” you plead, rolling your hips up into his, as he slid his cock up and down your slit. He taps the head of his cock on your clit twice.

“Shhh, relax. I got you.” He coos stroking your cheek with one hand as he runs his cock more deliberately up and down your slit with the other. Harry kisses the corners of your mouth, and then places a kiss to your lips. He looks at you, eyes aflame with lust. He leans his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face, as he slowly pushes inside. You gasp, grab his shoulders, dig your nails into his skin. Harry hisses, tucking his face into your neck as he slowly worked you open with his cock, little by little thrusting in and out until he was fully settled inside. 

“Fuck, babe.” he sighs. He stays still for a moment, deep inside of you relishing in the feeling of your tight  walls wrapped around him. 

“Oh my god.” you gasp as swears fall from Harry’s lips above you. You thread your fingers into his hair, pulling lightly at his curls, drawing out more groans from him. “Move.” you whine, rutting your hips up into his. “Please, Harry.” 

He slowly begins to grind his hips down into yours, pulling back only slightly before driving back in, allowing you to feel every inch of him. “Fuck, you feel so good baby.” He praises. He’s quick to find a decent pace, his arms bracketing your head, forehead leaned against yours as he pounded into you with deep strokes. 

“Har- oh my god.” you moan, your pants of pleasure, fanning across Harry’s face, eyes screwed shut. 

“Look at me.” he rasps, kissing the corner of your mouth, “Please. Need to see you.” He moans. And he does. He needs it. You can hear it in his voice, and feel it in the way he caresses your hip. He must be closer to you. He needed to see you, all of you. 

So you grant his wish, peeling your eyes open and looking at him. And your pussy clenches at the sight of him. You don’t remember why you’d close your eyes in the first place. He was beautiful, like this. All kiss bitten lips, and flushed cheeks, curls glued to his brow and lust filled eyes. You threaded your fingers in his curls, brushing his curls away from his eyes. 

“You feel so good.” you gasp. 

Harry smirks, twirling his hips, “So do you.” You pull at his curls, a loud moan rips from your throat,  as a particularly hard thrusts hits your g-spot. Harry’s eyes flash with a new kind of focus, and lust as he hits it again. 

“‘S that it? ‘S that your spot, babe?” he huffs. You nod frantically, eyes glued to his lust filled ones as he continued pumping into you. “I want you to come for me again. I want to feel you. Please,” he pleads, “Need it.”  

“Oh god!” you cry out. The more he talked the closer you could feel yourself approaching your peak. “Harry -” you 

“Breathe through it, Love.” He instructs, keeping his rhythmic pace. As he grinds his hips down into yours, he demonstrates a breath, taking a deep breath in and out. You follow suit, feeling the heat pool in the bit of your stomach warm, as your orgasm grows closer and closer. 

“Harry - oh my god.” “I know, I know.” He gasps, “Let go, Baby.” And you do. Just like that, you coming around Harry’s cock, tightening around him as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. “There you go,” he coos, dropping a kiss to your forehead, before tucking himself back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “Good girl. Fuck baby.” 

Harry’s thrusts become sloppy as he struggles to hold himself up above you, feeling his own climax quickly approaching. “I’m gonna come baby.” Harry pants. 

“Please.” you whimper, holding his face in his hands. You bring your lips up to his, moaning into the kiss, “I want you to.” 

“Fuck.” He huffs, and with a few more deep strokes, Harry comes apart above you. 

He grinds his hips to a stop, burying himself into your neck, kissing your shoulder, as you run your nails up and down his back, trying to catch your breath. 

You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the weight of him on top of you, and Harry enjoying your hand in his hair. Once he heard your breath slow, he slowly pulled out of you, kissing your forehead, and rolling off of you.

“I’ll be right back.” he smiles.

“Okay.” you whisper with a sweet smile.   

Harry drags his boxer briefs up his legs, looking back at you with a smile before he’s out the door. 

“Shit.” you giggle, looking up at the ceiling. You look over at the clock on his nightstand, and smirk.  Nearly an hour and a half  has passed. I really got the Harry Experience ™ you muse, to yourself. 

Sitting up in bed, you scan the messy bedroom floor to find your clothes. Before you get a chase to put your bra back on, Harry is back with bottles of water, some snacks and a towel. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asks,  He sets down the two bottles of water, snacks on his nightstand.

“Getting dressed.” 

“What for?” he pouts, crawling into his bed, lifting his sheets for you to follow,  “Come back here.” you allow him to pull you back into his side, resting your head on his chest.  

“I don’t want to overextend my stay.” you whisper 

“You’re not.  Let me hold you for a bit. Not done taking care of you.”  

He kisses the crown of your head, and it feels almost too intimate, but still you relax in his arms, letting out a deep breath, allowing the gentle motion of his hand stroking your back to calm you. 

“Can you do me a favor?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Promise me that we’ll still be friends.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment. A little too long for your liking before he finally speaks. 

“I don’t think I can do that.” Harry says, and there's a slight panic at his words until you look up at him and see he’s smirking down at you. 

“I got you pussy whipped that quick, Styles?” you joke, poking at his side, and he laughs. 

“Maybe.” he smirks, before looking at you earnestly, “Or maybe hearing you moan my name made me realize it’s something I've wanted for a long time.” 

“Oh.” you sigh. 

“Or maybe I’m just selfish, and I don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing you that way. Especially if they aren’t going to treat you right.” 

“And you want to treat me right?” you smile

“I do.” He says firmly, “Give me a chance. Just one date. A real one. Ideally one where we stay clothed, and vertical.” he smirks.  “And if you don’t want to pursue anything, then…I’m happy to stay friends. But I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t try.” 

You look at him, trying to find a hint of dishonesty, but you couldn’t find it. 

“Okay, Styles. One date.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” you smile, snuggling back into his chest. 

Everything between you two has changed. That’s for sure. But maybe it’s for the better.  And maybe this is just the beginning. 

a/n: imagine harry as your fwb *deep sigh*

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[lowkeyremi]

𝐃𝐀𝐃 ?!

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader note: thanks to @violetraccoon04 and @hiqhkey for giving me the inspiration to write this!! Part 3 of dating the teacher series ! (Pt 1 and pt 2) summary: class 2a has always wondered if their stoic teacher has a partner… huh.. the more you know! (This is set post war so class 1a are now second years.) content: fluff, crack, teasing, just class a being sillies. wc: 1.5k

Your favorite people in the whole world are soon to leave for school, one a teacher one a student. You check over both of them. From what you can see Denki has his backpack, his training bag, his lunch (which he complains about packing because he wants to eat at the cafeteria every single day) and his hero gear.

Shota on the other has all of his lesson planning things, his eyepatch on his face, a protein shake, coffee, lots of coffee and his scarf around his neck.

You look at them expectantly, but before you could say anything Shota beats you to it, “you sure you’re okay taking Eri in today?”

“Babe, I promise you it’s no big deal. Her school isn’t far from my workplace.” His eyes soften and he gives you the kiss that he gives you every time he has to leave. Of course the romantic moment is ruined by your son, “could you guys swap saliva some other time? yuck.”

Both you and Shota turn to glare at the high schooler and he just smirks accordingly.

“I’ll see you Friday, sweet boy. Stay out of trouble. Sho, you’ll be back before midnight right? Or do you have to patrol?” He smiles at you which puts your mind at ease. Even though the war has been over for a couple of months now, you still feel paranoid watching your son and husband leave out into danger.

“I’m patrolling until 10:30 so I’m pretty sure I’ll be back before midnight.” You let out a sigh of relief.

U.A. has let up on their strict policy of students being in the dorms at all times, and has allowed them to visit their families on the weekend, which is why you get to see Denki every weekend before he has to return to the dorms for the week.

“Is your laundry clean?”

“Yes, mom.”

“You’ve turned in all your assignments, right?”

“Yesssss, mom.”

“And you still have allowance to buy food if you nee-”

“He’s got everything, darling. Try not to worry too much.” You kiss Shota again, tension leaving your body.

“Okay. I’ll see you guys later. I love you both, stay safe.”

“Love you too mom!”

“We’ll be safe, bye baby.”

Denki had stopped by his dorm before heading to his home room… which also happened to be his first period class… and the man teaching the class is his stepdad.

The young boy was told by both you and Aizawa that their marriage was no secret and he could tell his friends if he pleased.

And yes, he had planned to.. awhile ago, but he’s just embarrassed sometimes. Not by you! Or Aizawa. He already considers the man his father, it’s just, what would his friends think? He knows most will probably be kind about it considering Aizawa is their teacher.

But he’s still scared of being ridiculed for such a thing. He lets those thoughts disappear as soon as he walks through the classroom door.

The first thing he does is go and bother Shinso. He had been trying to make the boy his friend but he is very closed off and hard for even Denki to talk to.

They’ve made progress though, mainly because Aizawa talked about how he’s trained the boy a few times.

“Hey Shinsoooo, wanna get lunch together later? Today’s lunch is always the best!”

“Don’t you always bring your own lunch on mondays?” Denki smiles, “yeah but you could always give me a little bit of yours and I’ll trade you some of mine! My mom’ll never find out.”

“Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on man!!! Please!!!” Before Shinso can deny him again Mina makes her way over to Denki and places her hand on his shoulder.

“Denki! How was your weekend? Do anything fun?” The boy stops himself from saying that he and Aizawa went shopping together to find you a birthday gift.

“Nahhh you know me, video games for life!” Mina rolls her eyes playfully.

“Alright, you know the deal, in your seats.” Aizawa mumbles out to the class.

Nobody wastes time finding their seats.

“I know you guys would rather work together or something but I’m gonna be lecturing today.” A couple of groans and sighs leave the lips of various 2-A students. Aizawa’s posture straightens and his look is deadly. Everyone else straightens up, but Denki has to keep himself from laughing.

He can’t take Aizawa seriously when he makes such sickeningly sweet faces to you at home.

“Would you like to share what’s so funny, Kaminari?” Your last name had been Kaminari before you got married. You gave your son the option to keep your maiden name or go with Aizawa and he chose your maiden name. He said that he didn’t want to get married one day and not have his own last name, whatever that meant.

“Uh, no sir.” He responds straightening his face.

“Now, if any of you have a problem with me lecturing you can go out in the hall and read the whole textbook.” Nobody makes a sound and for good reason, that textbook is thicker than a dictionary.

“As I thought. Now onto the lecture.”

Denki had been falling asleep during the lecture so half way through, in his sleepy state he raises his hand, “Hey, dad?”

The blond feels the class’s eyes on him and gets scared that he’d accidentally exposed himself which he did but that’s not why his friends are staring. They just find the slip up funny, they don’t know Aizawa is really his stepdad.

“DID YOU JUST CALL HIM DAD? WHAT AN IDIOT.” Bakugo snorts loudly.

Denki’s face reddens and he covers it up in embarrassment.

“Looks like someone was takin’ a snooze.” Sero says with a chuckle.

“Oh come on guys, be nice. I’m sure we’ve all slipped up and called our teacher dad/mom before!” Uraraka says trying to calm down the laughter.

“Is it strange that I have never called a teacher mother or father before?” Todoroki asks suddenly feeling like an outcast. Midoriya tries to explain to him that he is in fact normal and not an outcast.

“Settle down. It was an honest mistake and I don’t blame him. I’m technically his father.” That gains the class’s attention.

Denki squeaks out a noise of embarrassment.

Aizawa immediately understands the situation his eyes widening a little in both shock and amusement, “you haven’t told them yet?”

Denki uncovers his face, “I was going to eventually…!”

“Tell us what?!” Kirishima asks excitedly.

“I am Denki’s stepfather. His mother and I are married.” It’s silent for a second but of course Mineta breaks the silence.

“Wait does that like mean you get good grades, cuz they bang each other?”

“THEY’RE MARRIED. M A R R I E D. NOT CASUAL!!!” Denki explains his face as red as a tomato.

“That still stands, your mom is married to your teacher, you can benefit from that!! Aizawa sensei, since we’re Denki’s friends can we get good grades too?!” Mina asks excitedly.

“That’s enough, nobody’s getting any special treatment. If anything Denki has to work 10x harder, because I’m around to watch him do his homework.” Half the class responds with “aw” or “aw man.”

“And mineta,” he stiffens at his name being called.

“I will not hesitate to send you out for inappropriate comments, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Pay up I was right!” Jiro of all people says.

“HUH?” Denki asks in shock.

“Well, we were betting on sensei’s relationship status. “Is he in a relationship or not?” was the question we’ve all been asking. Everyone was saying no, but I noticed that necklace he wears. It has a ring on it.” Jiro explains.

Sero and Bakugo both groan taking money out of their pockets. Uraraka holds out her hand too, they also owe her for being right.

Aizawa had always kept his necklace with his wedding ring tucked into his shirt so he had no idea how Jiro caught that.

“Oh crap that means I owe money too!! I made a bet saying he was married to present mic!” Mina sighs digging in her bag for her clutch purse.

“I prefer my wife over Mic any day.” Aizawa confirms. (In another life he would so marry him.)

“You guys don’t think it’s weird? That like- he’s my stepdad?”

“Uh, not really. I mean the only thing that matters is that you and your mom are happy.”

Denki realizes then and there he had no reason to be scared, his friends didn’t seem to mind all that much that Aizawa was his stepdad.

But from time to time when he hung out with them one would ask, “you think you can get on Aizawa sensei’s good side so _________”

This was so silly and fun to write. I had a sudden burst of inspiration 🫶🏾

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[ellecdc]

i come barring a request for a poly!marauders🫡📃

idk you ever do this with ur cat but when mine meows at me i respond back and pretend we’re having a full conversation, and now imagine reader this with her cat and she’s roommates with lily so she’s used to but then the boys see they’re all thrown off and slightly worried.

now i bid you good day my lady 🫡

I've had this blurb like half finished for a while, but since we were all talking about our fur babies today, I thought it'd be perfect to finish and post! thanks for this cute request - hope it's what you were looking for

poly!marauders x fem!reader who talks to her cat

Remus felt sort of bad for Lily at the way the boys all deflated when it had been her who opened the door to your shared flat instead of you. Thankfully, the red-head just laughed and invited them all in.

“Sorry to disappoint boys.” She jested as they all made themselves at home on your couch.

“Oh, we’re always happy to see you, Lily.” James said at the same time as Sirius grumbled “you should be”, earning him a pinch in the ribs by Remus.

“Hey!” Lily called down the hall. “The boys are here!”

Remus winced at a painful sounding thump and a muffled. “Okay thanks! I’m almost ready!”

The boys were very excited, if James’ knee bouncing and Sirius’ impish smirk wasn’t obvious enough. Lily had been gushing about how sweet her new roommate was and how she thought you’d get along really well with the group of friends, and she’d been right. You came to two pub nights and the boys were hooked; constantly asking Lily for updates and if you’d be at the next one.

Lily had grown so tired of playing messenger that she asked you if she could give them your phone number, to which you had agreed.

The four of you had been in a group chat for nearly a month and a half before they felt brave enough to ask you out on an official date.

“Where are you guys going tonight?” Lily asked as she sat in an armchair in the living area where the boys were waiting.

“We’re going to the pub on 42nd.” James answered readily. 

“The one with the board games and vintage video games?” Lily clarified. 

“Yup. That way there’s something for us to do if conversation lulls, and something for James to do with his hands.” Sirius explained teasingly, causing James to blush and lean into his side as if he were trying to hide inside of Sirius’ smaller frame.

“Don’t tease the lad.” Lily admonished playfully. “He’s already likely nervous enough. I don’t think you lot have to worry about tonight though; conversation never lulls with her around.”

Remus tilted his head in bemusement at Lily’s comment but never got to ask for clarification before he heard some muttering.

“Would you stop that?” He could hear you mutter quietly; barely any ire detected in your tone.

“Please don’t do this, I’m already late.” You begged before a big crash took place. “For fuck’s sa- why.” 

“You’re not allowed to get ready with me anymore.” You declared to your bedroom. Remus shared a look with Sirius and James before turning towards Lily who only shook her head and brought her finger to her lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” You carried on. “If you want to be here to see me off, you need to behave yourself.”

It was quiet for a few moments. “No, knocking over my jewelry stand is not behaving.”

They listened to you shuffling around before you let out a big sigh. “I love you too, but you are stressing me out. Do you want to watch shows with Lily tonight while I’m gone? Hm? Let’s go ask.”

Finally, you exited your room and made your way down the hall, entering the living area before pausing to take in the fact that the four occupants of your flat were all staring at you with varying levels of bemusement and amusement. 

And trotting happily behind you was a small cat seemingly none the wiser to the fact that it just made its mistress look like a fool in front of her dates.

You chuckled awkwardly. “How much did you hear?”

Lily snorted and pat her legs as an invitation for your feline friend, who happily agreed, hopping and curling up on the red-head’s lap. 

“Enough to know that knocking over your jewelry stand is not behaving.” Sirius teased salaciously. 

You groaned and moved to cover your face with your hands, but James was having none of that and quickly made for you.

“Don’t hide that beautiful face from us; it’d be a shame if the only one who got to appreciate your date night look was your cat.” He commented as he gently pulled your hands away from your face.

You still looked awfully embarrassed but acquiesced. “A bad cat, at that.” You spat to the ball of fur currently sitting with your roommate without any real malice. 

“Oi!” Lily defended quickly, brushing broad strokes over the cat like the villain from Austin Powers. “Don’t speak ill of Princess Bernadette the Third.”

“Princess Bernadette?” Sirius asked bewilderedly at the same time as James murmured “the Third?”

“Birdie, Lily. My cat’s name is Birdie.” You corrected, not at all amused. 

Lily raised her nose in the air. “When we stay home to watch Bridgerton without you lot, she’s Princess Bernadette the Third. Now off with you, we have Ball’s to attend, and you have gentlemen to court.” 

Remus watched with a loving smile as you flushed furiously at that, laughing when it only deepened as Sirius suddenly stood and made his way for you, bowing with a flourish and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Shall we, m’lady?”

You gave him an eye roll but Remus could tell it was mostly for show as you bore a sickeningly sweet smile and accepted James’ elbow as you made your way to the door.

“Have fun you guys!” Lily called towards the door as Remus bent down to scritch Birdie on the chin.

“You too, Princess Bernadette, Princess Lillith.” He offered with his most posh accent and a quick bow before joining his two boyfriends and their date at the door.

[mywritersmind]

I hope your requests are open. I had this idea of Lando dating either a singer or dancer. Mostly inspired how he said in a video that he would like to be a singer for 24h. Basically Lando surprises the reader on tour on a location of your choosing. The fans are freaking out about him being there, because they haven’t made it official to their fans and after the show they make it public. Maybe by a post where he is backstage with her being fluffy or something. It’s purely an idea so if you don’t like it then feel free to ignore it.

ROCKSTAR BOYFRIEND - LN4

listen up : kissing! cuteness! some smau! thanks for request!! i love lando x singer for some reason and even tho this is short, it’s adorbs!

word count : 1098

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I squeal as I jump into my boyfriend's arms, he spins me around while my head is buried in his neck, “I missed you!” Once my feet are back on the ground, I look at him. Taking every bit of him in, the face I have memorized. I look into my favorite eyes in the world, and smile.

“I missed you too.” He tugs at my waist a bit and kisses me softly. “I’m excited for tonight.”

“Great to see you too, Y/n.” Max fewtrells tone makes me laugh instantly. He’s staring at us like we’ve commuted some crime.

“Hi Max. I’m happy you could come!” I lean into my boyfriend, noticing the camera around his neck.

He nods, “I’m worried how much you like Lan but, you’re good so.” I laugh as he gets distracted by my manager walking by with food.

Because he’s gone, I drag Lando to my dressing room where he immediately falls onto the couch, smiling widely. “Look at you, all famous and talented.”

“Right!” I tease, “You have no idea what it’s like!” I walk closer and Lando’s hands slide up the back of my legs, staring up at me.

He stops them right before the hem of my skirt. “You look good. Not fair that I have to share you with the thousands of people out there.” He refers to my current packed venue just as the opener starts another song.

He tugs me a bit closer so I move down slowly until I'm straddling him, his hands now on my ass as he smirks at me. Lando has this look that he does, like everytime he sees me he just has to be as close as possible to me.

I rest my hands on his neck and kiss him. He mumbles, “I really missed you.” He tugs me closer and kisses me harder.

I laugh into him, “I do have to go out eventually so don’t get too excited…” He groans when I say it and moves his lips to my neck, “Lando…”

“Don’t all rockstars do this?” He eyes me as I laugh, his lips meeting mine again as there’s a knock at the door.

Lando and I end up backstage with my crew while my guitarist strums on his guitar and my manager Ally goes over tonight as if I haven’t done it a million times.

I’m sitting on Lando’s lap, a bit more PG this time, with his hand on my hip as I listen to Ally talk.

She’s pacing before she turns and sigh at us, “You two are adorable.” It catches me off guard a bit because she’s always been the one saying we shouldn’t be public because of our careers.

It makes me happy that she supports us, even if she does think he’s bad press.

She’s pulled away as I get a five minute stage call. “You’re going to be amazing and i’ll be front row!” Lando grins, pushing my hair back behind my ear.

I laugh, “Lan, you’re in a box.” I’ve sat him and Max in VIP for my friends and family with Gracie Abrams and Finneas so that should be interesting.

“I’m seriously so proud of you.” His smile is so contagious, “You’re so talented and amazing and beautiful and perfect.” I want to cry at his words. But there’s no time because my stage manager hands me my microphone and points at his wrist.

I kiss him one last time before he leaves to find Max and go to their seats. Before I can step closer to the stage though, I get stopped by Ally.

Her face is stern, “I need to talk to you after the show, about Lando.”

I frown, immediately, scared of what she has to say. But her face goes soft, “I think you’re right, you should go public. You’re sickeningly in love and if that’s what you want…” I wrap my arms around her so tightly that she has to pry me off.

“I love you!” I scream so loud that even the crowd can hear me.

“Yeah yeah, say it with a raise.” she finally cracks a smile and squeezes my arm, “Go kill it out there.”

⋆༺

I’m sweating by the time the show is over. I can still hear the crowd screaming when I walk off the stage, the same grin I started with, still plastered on my face.

I scream when I see Lando. I could see him watching me the whole performance and I’ve never been so happy.

“Hey, you did insane!” Max is first to talk as Lando hugs me again.

I let out a breathy laugh as Lando kisses my cheek, “Thank you, Max!”

“Lando is so lucky to have someone so cool because it really evens out his weirdness.” Lando eyes Max who pulls up his hands in defense and wanders away.

Lando kisses me again, “You did… I can’t even explain it! You fit so well on stage and I was singing every lyric!”

I raise a brow, “You know every lyric?”

He nods enthusiastically, “Me and everyone in my garage! I play nothing else before a race.” I shake my head, running my hands through his curls, “But you seem extra happy… is it because i’m here?”

I roll my eyes even though he’s right, “I have some news.”

His jaw drops when I tell him we’re going public. He doesn’t even consult his PR people before posting the pictures.

⋆༺

LANDONORRIS

liked by yourusername and 823,644 others…

landonorris SHES MY GIRLFRIEND SUCKERSSSS @//yourusername ily🙂‍↕️🫶🏻

username235 : OMFGOMFGOMFG THIS IS NOT A DRILL HE JUST HARDLAUNCHED

↳ username00 : IM CRYING SHE DESERVES THE WORLD

username44 : HOLY FUCKING SHIT YES

gracieabrams : Break her and i’ll kill you.

↳ landonorris : If I fuck this up, please do.

username719 : I used to pray for times like these. HOW IS THIS REAL!?😭💗

landofan44 : I’m so single😆

y/nfanusername : WOAHHHHHH ITS REAL!?

username12 : As an F1 fan, and a y/n fan, IM SO OBSESSED ILL GO TO WAR FOR THEM

carlossainz : No more lando norizz?

↳ landonorris : LOSER ALERT I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

↳ yourusername : keep that up and i’ll dump you.

↳ landonorris : yes ma’am🫡

oscarpiastri : Finally you can talk to someone else about her. Y/n, you’re great and all but I know far to much about you.

↳ landonorris : shhh your ears are blessed

yourusername : my idiot 💗🫶🏻

↳ landonorris : my love 😍🧡

↳ carlosainz : WHIPPED

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↳ maxverstappen : WHIPPED

↳ georgerussell : am I the only one who thinks this is cute?

↳ lewishamilton : George.

↳ georgerusell : WHIPPED

↳ francocolapinto : WHIPPED🫵

[reidmania]

cedar | spencer reid

summary; breaking up on good terms and remaining friends is difficult, especially when you and spencer work together, its even harder when your life is put at risk and spencer is faced the possibility that he might really lose you.

warnings; exes who cannot stay exes, angst, fluff, they flirt w each other, fem reader, mentions of being stabbed, all cm minds things, happy ending, avoidant!reader, self sabotaging reader. BUT THERES SOOO MUCH FLUFF GUYS, they flirt and banter so much, reader is sarcastic and very playful, shes lowkey lorelai gilmore coded a little idk

an; cedar is my song. i love cedar, i love gracie abrams. thank u and goodnight. not proof read bc if i read it i probably wont post it. thank u so very muchly to @gghostwriter for all the advice on this fic and letting me yap about it.

‘Breaking up is funny, I forget you aren't mine, I forget you aren't mine. It's impossible to acclimate, every time we talk, we understate, how I know we both could die, we both could die. But you told me that you felt the same, when I told you how I needed space, but I think it was a lie, it was a lie’

“You know pointing is rude.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as you leant back in your chair. The room went silent as everyone turned their gaze to look at you. Was the timing of your statement the best? No, did you care? Also no. Hotch was in the middle of going on the details of the case you had traveled out to Louisiana for, he was pointing at the screen and the thought just slipped passed your lips before you could help it.

Spencer turned his gaze to you, eyebrow rasied, “Do you ever think before you speak?” He asked. Your lips parted before shutting again, then you let out an amused huff and shook your head, lips pulling into a half teasing smile.

“If I did that I’d lose my sense of humour— you all would be miserably bored.” You sighed back, the smiling pulling further on your lips as the messy haired brunette sitting opposite you raised his eyebrow further and let out a half hearted— almost sarcastic chuckle in return.

He tilted his head slightly, “Humour? Is that what we are calling it?” He asked. You nodded instantly, a wide, half proud smile taking over your features. He hummed, clearly amused.

“Why is pointing rude?” JJ spoke up, your eyes widened in almost excitement to be able to talk about why the thought had crossed your mind in the first place.

“Well when you point you kill all the fairies.” You replied, matter-of- factually. You knew it was technically silly but it was a sweet childish thought that had been engraved in your mind since you were younger and you heard it from a distant relative, probably as a way to you from stop pointing at someone (because that was rude but explaining that to a five year old would be useless so they settled on something more interesting for an adolescent)

Spencer let out an audible laugh, “You are a child.” He said, almost teasingly.

Your head turned away from JJ’s to meet his eyes, this time you sat up a little straighter, “What does that make you?” You teased back, raising your eyebrow at him.

Seemingly, that made his lips part then close, and he resigned, yet there was still a slightly amused smile on his lips, which he bit his lip to try to hide, as he turned his attention away, making your smile only widen as you settled back in place, slumped against your chair as you turned your attention back to Hotch. who was standing arms crossed, clearly unamused by the interruption.

You however just smiled widely at him, “You may continue now. Without pointing, don’t be a fairy murder.” You huffed out. Hotch stared at you for a moment, no emotion evident over his features before he shook his head, turning his attention back to the case at hand.

Your eyes caught Spencer’s for a moment. In those moments it was increasingly difficult to remember you weren’t together, it was further difficult to remember why you had broken up in the first place. The way you interacted, the looking for one another in a crowded room, the soft touches and the teasing taunts went against every breakup ‘rule’

The breakup wasn’t messy. Not really, Not at all. It wasn’t mean, there was no big argument, no mind changer, no feelings lost, it just.. happened. It started when you had admitted to Spencer you were getting overwhelmed with the fast pace of your relationship, and he agreed he was too. You both agreed to take space, time, to reevaluate on what you both needed at this point in time.

When the conversation finally happened, you told him you thought it would be better to end things now, while everything is good so theres no chance of things going bad. You explained your reasoning by saying you didn’t want to lose your friendship with him if that feeling in your chest never went away, you didn’t want things to be awkward at work.

He had agreed, and it was mutual. You both mutually agreed to end things out of the fear of things ending.

It had been a month since the breakup, there was no awkward phase between you two. There was no tension, bitterness. It instantly fell into the same rhythm that had always been there, playfulness, teasing, lingering glances. The only difference was now he didn’t steal kisses to cut off one of your dramatic rambles, or wrap his arms around your waist at the end of the work day to signal he was ready to go.

You hadn’t decided yet, if the breakup was the right thing to do, if keeping this close knit bond with Spencer stumped any chance of you moving on — not that you planned to right now.

The breakup wasn’t messy, but everything after, everything now and everything in your head was.

“Spencer” You poked at his arm as you approached where he was standing, leaning over a desk reading over something, you weren’t sure what it was, you didn’t really care. He didn’t look at you as he let out a hum of acknowledgment, making you smile. “Spencer” You repeated, poking his arm again, and then again, until he turned his head to look at you.

His raised eyebrow and the way his lips pulled into a tight thin line showed he was unamused, not annoyed. You smiled widely at him, “You’re in my way.” You said, something you could have told him when he was half paying attention, but that took all the fun out of it.

He stared at you blankly for a moment, before crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his body against the desk further, turning towards you. Which only further blocked your path. “Thats unfortunate.” He sighed, you squinted at him slightly.

“Can you move.” You huffed. No longer amused because it was less amusing when he was amused as well. Maybe that was silly but you couldn’t help it.

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to think about it for a moment, before looking back at you. You glared at him, crossing his arms over your chest before he spoke. “Whats the magic word?” He mumbled, tone laced with faux seriousness.

A huff left your lips, as you glared up at him, squinting your eyes slightly, “Chivalry is dead?” You suggested sarcastically.

He grinned, “No. And that’s a sentence. I said magic word”

“You know what? I will just go the other way.” You decided, turning on your heels to walk away. A laugh left his lips as he reached out to grab your wrist, stopping you from getting too far, he dragged you back to stand in front of him.

“Stubborn.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he looked down at you, you returned the gaze, tilting your head slightly as you looked up at him, trying to keep the smile threatening to make way onto your face.

“You just noticed?” You replied in the same tone. Although you knew he had known this for a while, he never failed to mention how stubborn you were throughout your relationship, whether it was playful or in the middle of an argument, he constantly reminded you just how stubborn you were.

He shook his head, not bothering to hide the amusement on his face. “No, No. Trust me you make it very known.” He said, emphasising his words to make it clear that not only he, but everyone was aware of your stubbornness.

You smiled, “Being stubborn isn’t a bad thing, you know.” You mumbled, gently pulling your wrist away from his hold, not because you didn’t enjoy the touch but more-so because you felt an undying urge to cross your arms.

He hummed, looking down at you, “I didn’t say it was.”

You tilted your head, the same entertained look in your eye that mirrored his, “You inferred it.” You said, matter-of-factually, although he didn’t, not really. He actually didn’t give any hint to what he meant by his words, but you were okay with that. It kept things lighthearted, easy.

“You assumed.” He said in the same tone. “I didn’t infer anything, I simply made an observation.” He said, raising his eyebrow as if he was trying to figure out how you were going to find a way to reply — he assumed something witty, dramatic.

“Can you observe from elsewhere.. you’re still in my way”

He let out an amused laugh, “Im still waiting on that magic word” He said, clearly enjoying this and the light hearted banter between the two of you.

You rolled your eyes, in a huff of frustration you ramble, “You are creating a hostile work environment. I feel unsafe. I feel targeted and threatened. How do you feel about yourself, after treating me such a way? You are a horrible evil person. Im going to take this to corporate.” You babbled off into a dramatic tangent which only furthered Spencer’s amusement of the current situation.

“I feel pretty great actually.” He shrugged, you glared at him, staying in place for a moment to see if he would move, he didn’t, instead he continued smirking slightly. You groaned dramatically before turning on your heels and walking away. You could hear his laughter as you walked around the opposite direction to get where you wanted to go in the first place.

“I hate when my job actually requires me to do my job.” You huffed out, shaking your head as you tightened the straps of your vest. It wasn’t true, you loved your job, you loved what you did and that wasn’t a question. It was just the dramatics and the emphasis on how tired you were today, although that didn’t stop killers from killing, or kidnappers from kidnapping.

Unfortunately this case was particularly tough, it had taken an abundance of days to just figure out the victimology and connection because of how random the killings were, then it took another day to figure out the MO, then the profile was completed, then the next day, today, you had finally gotten the location of where the unsub was keeping his victims.

“Yeah, Such a struggle, poor you” Spencer mumbled out as he came up behind you, readjusting the straps on the back of your vest to make sure it was on properly, his voice was laced with tease, you just hummed in acknowledgment.

“Make sure you’re careful, and cautious.” Hotch reminded you. You didn’t think much of it at the time, it was the same reminder as always when catching an unsub, don’t do anything unnecessarily dangerous, don’t split up unless necessary, don’t put yourself in a situation that you cant get yourself out of, the words you had heard probably a million times.

You wished you paid closer attention this time.

You and Spencer walked through the house, it had an ominous feel to it, the air in the house was colder than outside, and it wasn’t a particularly warm day — but it wasn’t the temperature that made the house feel as cold as it did.

Instead it was the guttual sobs you heard from underneath the floorboards that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand, and goosebumps to line your arms. They weren’t sobs of pain, instead just ache, a cry so loud begging for someone to hear. Before that you were about to whisper a stupid joke to Spencer, now you felt as if you couldn’t breath.

“Stay here.” He whispered to you. There was something unfamiliar about the look in his eyes and any wit you could muster up was thrown out the window at the sound of his voice. It was a stupid request, you couldn’t just stay here in the hallway while he wandered around. You had a job to do.

When he turned the corner, gun pointed protectively, his movements were calculated and careful, every step he took he knew what he was doing, You thought you did too. The first step you took was quiet and your gun was pointed, your finger hovering over the trigger.

Spencer moved towards the sound of the sobs, you moved towards the living room, trying to clear the downstairs area of the house. There was a pull in your stomach for a number of seconds, a twist of anxiety you pushed to the side to focus on the matter at hand.

That didn’t last. Ignoring the feeling in your stomach turned into gasping at the feeling. A gasp of pain leaving your parted lips as you stumbled forward, the gun left your hand and hit the ground, the sound of the contact blurring as a ringing swindling sound took over your sense of hearing.

You were stabbed. You could feel the metal, more than you wanted to admit, you could feel the way it pressed into your skin, the coldness of it against the warmth of you. A sob of pain left your lips before you could help it. There was someone holding you, wrapping a tight arm around your chest and a hand over your mouth to silence your cry.

The arms weren’t comforting, in any sort of way. They were too tight, too suffocating for the lack of air you were able to breath in between the hand covering your mouth and the pain in your stomach, you wished adrenaline would kick in but it seemed to dwindle out as your head spun, then the knife was ripped away from your stomach.

That hurt.

More than it did when it first went in.

Then you were released from the mans arms and your body collapsed in pain, eyes squeezing shut as your hands scrambled to press against the open wound now bleeding out. You didn’t know where the unsub was, you didn’t hear footsteps, you didn’t really hear anything. Everything seemed blurry, not your sight so much since your eyes were squeezed shut but you could feel your mind blurring with every second that passed, any first aid training you had learnt flew out the window.

You missed it at first, the sound of the door opening, the sound of back up coming in, Derek, Emily. They were in the house now but not in the living room, not where you were lying on the floor in a helpless pool of your own blood. You wanted to yell out, or sob but every sound got stuck in your throat.

Then you felt a larger hand pressing on top of yours, placing more pressure against the wound than your tired arms had allowed, you made out frantic talking but nothing your half conscious mind could string together coherently. It didn’t matter, you could recognise the roughness of the gentle hand anywhere.

“Spencer” You gasped out, panting.

Had you been holding your breath? You didn’t remember but you knew breathing was getting more and more difficult.

His hand pressed against yours, other hand coming to brush hairs out of your face. “Im here. Can you open your eyes for me?” He almost begged, his voice gentle and reassuring and laced with panic even though he tried his hardest to remain calm for your sake.

You didn’t reply, only letting out strangled gasps for air, eyes remaining shut, squeezed tightly, as if the harder you squeezed them shut, the more your pain decreased. Unfortunately thats not how anatomy works.

“Open your eyes for me angel, look at me.” He now did beg. If you were conscious you would’ve given him a look for the use of the term of endearment in your current broken up state, but you could hardly process anything else he was saying, and you were bleeding out so there was clearly more important things.

You struggled, but after a moment peeled your eyes open to look at him. Vision was blurry and fading in and out even few seconds even when your eyes remained open, you couldn’t make out his features, you couldn’t see the tears he was trying to hold back. God you wished you could see his face.

“Good, thats good. Keep looking at me, Okay? We’re getting you help, you’re gonna be okay” He reassured but it was more of a slight reassurance for himself, trying to convince himself as such. His voice became a ringing in your ears, along with every other sound around you.

“Wh- Where- Is—“ You words came out mumbled, muffled by gasps for air and whimpers of pain. “He.” You finished, trying to keep your eyes open, trying to focus, trying to stay alive.

Spencer spluttered for a moment because he didn’t know— He had no idea. Whether the unsub was right behind him or whether they were being taken into custody by Derek or Emily, whether he was lying dead on the floor somewhere. Spencer didn’t know. He couldn’t. How could he focus on anything else?

“I don’t know” He said.

“Go away” You mumbled, eyes now fluttering closed, even in the state of half consciousness you knew Spencer was still in danger, more danger by keeping his back to his surroundings and his focus on you. That was putting himself in an unnecessarily dangerous situation.

He shook his head. “Im not going anywhere. Keep your eyes open.” He repeated.

“Spencer” You huffed out a breath of air, your eyes remaining closed because you were so tired. “Go. You- You aren’t— You aren’t my boyfriend anymore” You huffed out the words that came across way harsher than what you intended them, “Staying- With.. Me isn’t your.. Responsibilty” Your words came out laboured along with the way your chest rose and fell, the breaths that left your lips.

“Don’t say that. Open your eyes.” He shook his head as his other hand trailed down to your neck, fingers pressing against your pulse point. You couldn’t feel it, every part of you and every inch of his touch felt like a lingering sensation over the numbness of your body, your eyes remained shut.

“If i die” You huffed out, your voice quieter, more rushed as you tried to get more air in, “Please” You started before you let out a gentle sob, not of pain, you weren’t in pain, not anymore. “Please don’t let them use a bad— photo of me.. at..- my funeral”

It was the most you things to say before you stopped replying, before your body tensed slightly. To joke, to be playful at a time like this. Spencer wondered if it was an attempt to calm him down, to relax his mind a little bit, to sooth the ache in his soul with the wit that was unforgettably you.

The cream coloured walls seemed taunting, they were warmly lit, contrasting how cold the space felt, how daunting it was. There was different people scattered around, some crying, and grieving, some reading newspapers, others celebrating. There was really no contrast of emotions quite like a hospital waiting room.

“She just got out of surgery. Shes in the ICU.” Hotch said as he stood in front of the few members of the team that were sitting by waiting. Everyone wanted to stay at the hospital and wait throughout the time of your lengthy surgery, not everybody could.

“Is she okay?” Emily asked, sitting up a little straighter as Hotch spoke, Spencer remained silent in place, every part of his body relying on the ache in his chest to keep his heart beating. He didn’t know if he could form words even if he wanted to, he didn’t know if he could speak without his voice breaking.

Hotch was silent for a moment, which caused Spencer’s head to snap towards him in nothing but pure dread. Hotch realised and shook his head. “Shes— Shes fine. Shes alive. Shes still asleep, they said it could be a few hours before she wakes up. The surgery went fine - She will be okay” Hotch sounded relived as his spoke, an unfamiliar sense of emotion in his voice.

“Can I see her?” Spencer spoke urgently before he had even fully understood what he was saying. If he had thought about it for a moment more, he wouldn’t have bothered asking. He wasn’t oblivious to the inner workings of a hospital. ICU. Family members only.

Hotch seemed to know that Spencer already knew what the answer was, “Reid..” It came out regretful, apologetic, empathetic. Spencer didn’t reply, instead re-slumped back in his seat in defeat.

There was hours. Hours before you were awake. In those hours Spencer was nothing short of a mess. He tried to work, reading over case files, trying to summarise what had happened and then the memory of your blood painting his hands came back and he was left in a state of overwhelming thought.

“You alright, pretty boy?” Derek asked, despite the playfulness of his words, his tone was serious. It wasn’t a secret how much you meant to Spencer, it wasn’t a secret how much he cared about you. Spencer looked up from the hospital seat, the room had grown more absent of life as the hours passed, families came and went, the crying stopped and started again, the celebrations happened and passed. Yet spencer never stopped feeling so lost.

He shook his head, saying he was fine would be a lost cause to the knowingness of his best friend, and his current state. He was so evidently not all right that saying so would be humorous. His cheeks were flushed, hair a mess from the amount of times he had run his hand through it, tugged on the strands stressfully.

“You know what she said to me?” Spencer mumbled out as he pulled his gaze away to look at his fiddling hands, “She was laying on the floor, dying, and she told me to go away because I wasn’t her boyfriend anymore” Spencer huffed out the memory.

Derek sighed, taking a seat next to the mess of his best friend. “I don’t think she meant it like that. The situation was still dangerous and you were putting yourself at risk.” Derek said. Spencer wanted to cry.

“I know— I know. She said ‘it’s not your responsibility to stay with me anymore’ — I don’t— I can’t—” Spencer couldn’t articulate the emotions swamping his mind. Everything was overwhelming, every time he closed his eyes he saw you on the floor in a puddle of deep red blood, anytime his fingers remained still for too long it was like he could still feel your pulse running flat against them.

“Breathe.” Derek reminded as Spencer got himself worked up.

“I lost her— I lost her.” Spencer shook his head as the words came out, his hands pulling to his face to rub over his eyes, maybe as to hide the way they’d begun to water, maybe to feel anything besides the heat of his cheeks.

Derek sat up a little straighter to rub Spencer’s shoulder, “Shes okay. They said she will be fine. They just want to look over her for a while. She was in a tough surgery, I don’t know much about hospitals but I’m pretty sure being in the ICU means shes getting all the care she needs to recover better, and faster.” Derek tried to comfort.

“Its- No- I already lost her Derek. I was an idiot and I didn’t say anything — I didn’t say anything because I was scared of losing her and i lost her anyways.” He rambled, an overwhelming force of regret lingering in every word he gasped out.

“Your breakup? I thought that was mutual?” Derek furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Spencer wanted to laugh, because technically it was. Technically they had both agreed, technically this is what he wanted as well.

He just wanted you.

“She wanted space— I thought.. I thought everything would be okay. Then she suggested we break up while things are still good enough for us to end on good terms and be friends. I just — I didn’t want to lose her; I wanted her to be happy and in my life so I didn’t say anything.. I- I settled for being friends because it meant — I thought it meant i still had her” Spencer was a mess and it was evident in the stammer of his words in the midst of his ramble.

“You don’t think you do?” Derek asked, Spencer shook his head as he brought his hand down to rub gently over his chin and bottom lip, a shaky breath leaving his lip’s. “I think you do.. I mean everyone does. You two still act like you’re together.” Derek said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Spencer sighed, “Thats just— Thats how it was before we started dating. Sometimes it feel’s like we are still together.” Spencer mumbled, Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Spencer cut him off. “Shes going to wake up, alone. Her family is in a different state and I’m not allowed to see her? I- This is bullshit.”

“Just say you’re her husband” Emily said, catching both of the boys off guard, they hadn’t heard her approaching. Spencer lifted his gaze from the ground to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. Any other time, if it was for any other person he would probably go over how that went against so many rules, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Not when it came to you.

He broke protocol. He wondered how many times that had happened today as he sat beside you, his hand on of yours, thumb gently running over your knuckles as you laid still unconscious on the bed. He paid attention to the beeping of the machine, the rhythm of your heartbeat, making sure it stayed consistent like his life depended on it — like your life depended on it.

You mumbled something, causing his gaze to break away from the screen to your face, watching it twist slightly. Your eyes remaining closed, then your hand twisted to interlink your fingers with his. You were evidently in pain.

“Hey- Hey don’t move too much. Do you want me to get your nurse? They can give you some different meds” Spencer ushered gently, leaning closer to the bed as you stirred awake. He wasn’t sure if your lengthy amount of time spent unconscious was purely because of the antiseptic leaving your system or also the need for sleep but he was glad you were awake.

“No” You rasped out. Whatever medicine they had been pumping you with since you got out of surgery did its job. You weren’t necessarily in pain, just uncomfortable. Even with your eyes closed you could feel the brightness of the white hospital lights. You knew where you were.

Spencer squeezed your hand gently, making you now very aware that he was holding your hand. “What the fuck happened?” You huffed out, voice groggy and full of confusion. You knew where you were, you knew it was something that happened on the case, you knew you were stabbed, but everything after the knife made contact with your abdomen was a blur in your memory.

“You were stabbed.” He stated. You opened your eyes to glare at him, “Yeah- Spencer, no shit.” You shook your head, he smiled. “I just— Is everyone else okay?” You asked.

He nodded. Derek and Emily had saved all the victims and the unsub was in custody, he explained that to you softly, mapping out every detail so you could make it out enough in your mind to satisfy your need to know what was going on.

“Next time can you tell him to do better? This bed sucks” You referenced to the unsub stabbing you, and leaving you alive and uncomfortable. It was a joke. You tried to move without causing yourself any pain over the uncomfortable thin mattress of the hospital bed. Spencer smiled and let out a breathy half hearted laugh.

“I’ll be sure to let him know” He returned your playful tone but it was heavier, quieter. It was filled with something more, something unsaid. His eyes dropped from your to back to your hands that were twined together, rubbing his thumb gently over the webbing of your own.

You tilted your head slightly, “What’s wrong?” You asked, it didn’t take a genius to read Spencer. You had memories the is and out’s of his head, or you thought you did. You knew enough.

“I thought I lost you.” He said, shaking his head slightly. His voice was so quiet and filled with guilt. “We broke up and.. because of what? Because we didn’t want to lose each other— I almost lost you.” His words held so much gravity it felt like it had all been taken from your surroundings and you were floating on everything left unsaid and unfinished.

“But you didn’t. Im alive.” You smiled playfully. He said your name, serious, showing he wasn’t playing around about this, that it went further than just this situation. You sighed, and shook your head. There were only so many jokes you could make to downplay the weight of the space between you.

“Okay. We broke up.” You mumbled, looking at him. “Because things were weird and it was too much and if things kept going then if we ended later it wouldn’t be on good terms and then we wouldn’t be able to be friends and thats horrible for everyone” You said, recapping your mutual decision to break up.

“Why do you do that?” He asked, squinting his eyes as he looked up at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Do what?” There was a number of things he could pull you up on, your avoidance, your jokes, your way of downplaying everything and anything.

“Plan the end of things when they have hardly started. You were planning a breakup for a relationship that was doing perfectly fine. You needed space, I gave you space, then you decided you wanted to break up? Why?” He huffed out.

You furrowed your eyebrows further at his words, but he was right. Of course he was right. “You said you felt the same.” You mumbled, maybe if he had called you on your bullshit a month ago things would be different and you would’ve worked things out, you two would be together and maybe everything would be different. You also knew it wasn’t his responsibility to try and understand emotions you couldn’t comprehend or communicate to him.

“I didn’t want space, I didn’t want to break up — but I didn’t want to lose you all together.” He admitted. You suddenly felt the wind knock out of your chest. You wondered if the way your heart beat increased showed on the monitor, which seemed all too revealing.

“You didn’t say that.” You muttered.

He sat up a little straighter, not letting go of your hand, his fingers stayed tangled with your own. “Would it have changed anything if i did?” His voice was quiet, as if a question that didn’t need an answer.

“It was going.. too fast” You huffed. The relationship did go fast, but maybe it was because the two of you spent way too many years in this flirty banter phase before either of you actually made a move; maybe because you were both already so comfortable with one another.

“We could have slowed it down.” He said, rebutting.

“And if that didn’t work? If it was all just too much? Then we argue and we end on bad terms and then not only is it awkward for everyone at work but then we can’t even be friends” You repeated your point, the fear engraved in your mind.

“What if it did work?” He shut you up with his point, before he continued. “What if it did work and then everything was fine. What if you told me when things are getting too much or overwhelming you and we work together to fix those issues so we don’t end at all.”

“That’s optimistic.” You mumbled sarcastically. Everything he was saying made sense, everything he was saying was ideally how a relationship would go, but it wasn’t as simple as that for you. You couldn’t help the way your mind thought the worst.

Spencer huffed shaking his head, “You’re stubborn.” He said. And he never let you forget it.

“Im realistic.” You resorted, but you weren’t: You hyper fixated on everything that could go wrong and got yourself out of those situations before giving anything a chance to work out itself.

“You’re an idiot. And I love you.” Spencer exhaled. It wasn’t a crazy love confession because you knew this. He made it known everyday. Even everyday you were broken up. He didn’t need to hide it. “Can you give us a chance? A proper chance without planning our breakup before theres any actual reason for it, please.” He mumbled, half playfully and half so serious.

You considered his words. Honestly your last thought before falling unconscious was the fear that you would die without Spencer knowing how much you loved him, how much regret you lived with for the state you had got yourself into with him, the fear you had of not having him in some way, none of these thoughts you could voice aloud when dying.

“Okay.” You settled.

“Okay?” He asked, repeating it back as if he didn’t believe you. You nodded, repeating it again. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Okay good, because everyone on this floor thinks I’m your husband and it would’ve been really awkward if you just rejected me.”

[mikashisus]

MAY THE WIND PROTECT YOU

SYNOPSIS: kinich recalls each time he heard you speak mondstadtian, each memory making him miss you more than the last. meanwhile, you return home to mondstadt.

PAIRING: kinich x gn!reader

TAGLIST ! @aphrodict @wystiix @tragedy-of-commons @pixelcafe-network @papiliotao

contains: poorly translated german, ajaw, intense pining (on both sides), down bad kinich, last part is not edited

word count: 4.4k

notes: THIS IS A PART 2!! writing this was sm fun guys, i had a field day with each scene. i wanted to post this yesterday on his bday, but gwen told me it'd be such a power move if i posted it today bc today is MY bday, so that's what i'm doing >:) crazy that his bday is a day before mine.

i was listening to this ost the entire time i was writing the mond scenes. when the mc mentioned the lullaby, that song is what i was referring to! anyw enjoy! TY ZIRA FOR PROOFREADING!!

part one!

The first time Kinich heard you speak in Mondstadt’s native tongue was two weeks after you arrived in Natlan. 

A merchant from Mondstadt had set up shop at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. By pure chance, Kinich had been showing you around the Stadium that day. 

(Somehow, it slipped his mind that you were from Mondstadt— despite the fact that you unintentionally made it abundantly clear you were a foreigner by the way you dressed and your poor attempt to speak the language of Natlan.) 

As soon as you set your sights on the merchant’s wares, you were sprinting over to his stall, eagerly shouting in what sounded like an aggressive tone to the people around you. Kinich followed, worry pooling in his gut at the sudden commotion you just made. 

All your worries about wanting to set a good first impression had been thrown out the window the moment you saw a familiar face. With the way you and the merchant were animatedly speaking, anyone passing by would’ve assumed you were lifelong friends. However, that was not the case. 

Mondstadters were well known for being extremely welcoming and hospitable, especially within their own nation. Anyone who ever traveled there always put in a good word about their stay, claiming that although the nation’s ways of greeting foreigners was a bit odd, the entire populace had this unique charm that made everyone instantly feel at home there. Paired with the ever-flowing wind and the ideals of freedom and peace, Mondstadt seemed to be a true paradise. 

The few merchants Kinich had run into in the past were fairly kind people, though there was always this edge to them that made them feel a bit aggressive. Maybe it was their way of speaking… or their blunt honesty. 

Joining your side, Kinich realized you weren’t speaking the universal language of Teyvat anymore, and that now, you were speaking a language that sounded rough and throaty.

This must’ve been the language of Mondstadt. He only ever heard a few words here and there in passing through merchants he met in the past. 

He couldn’t understand a word you were saying, but he liked hearing your voice in its primitive state. 

The merchant made a gesture towards you, and you threw your head back in raucous laughter. Kinich wondered what you were talking about. A few moments later, he heard the words ‘Dornman Port’ fall from your lips, and he assumed that the topic shifted to where you were from. 

“It’s not everyday you see a Mondstadter down here in the South! Where are you from?” 

“Dornman Port!“ You answered eagerly, ”my family’s been living there for generations, but recently my grandparents moved to the city to get better access to healthcare.” 

“Ah, I see. No wonder your accent sounded familiar! My family’s a bit North of Dornman, more inland towards—“ 

From the excited way you two were speaking, Kinich guessed based on context clues that you and this merchant were from the same hometown.

Finally, you seemed to turn your attention back to the merchant’s wares, and your eyes practically sparkled once you set your sights on his entire alcohol supply. 

(You weren’t a true child of Mondstadt if you didn’t cherish your booze.) 

Pointing to a vintage bottle of something that was labeled in Mondstadt’s native tongue, you fished some mora out of your satchel.

“I haven’t seen many Mondstadters down here,” you said, resuming your earlier conversation, “not that we can’t travel to other nations, I just mean—“ 

“It’s strange?” The merchant finished your sentence. “I get that a lot from the locals. Usually, Fontainians visit Natlan the most, though I suppose that’s not too surprising. The hot springs are great!” 

“Speaking of Fontaine, I was suspected of being Fontainian my first year here. The looks on the locals’ faces after hearing I’m from the Crown of the North were priceless!”  

You took the bottle of Dandelion Wine and smiled. “I bet! I got questioned a bit too on my arrival a few weeks back.” 

He eyed the journal in your hands. “Akademiya student?” 

“Yes, sir! Vahumana Darshan!” You nodded. “I’ll be here in Natlan for six months to work on my thesis.” 

Glancing at Kinich, you suddenly felt a pang of guilt rush through you. Unintentionally, you had been making him wait this whole time. You quickly wrapped up your conversation with the merchant, explaining that Kinich was your ‘tour guide’ and you had to leave. 

“Good luck with your studies!” The merchant shook your hand, his grip firm. It reminded you of your father’s handshakes. “Let the Wind lead, youngster.” 

“Danke! May the Anemo Archon bless you! Tschüss!” 

The second time Kinich heard you speak in Mondstadt’s native tongue was when a yumkasaur had stolen your journal and decided not to give it back. 

(He didn’t think he’d ever heard someone curse so much in his life— aside from Ajaw.)

Although he couldn’t understand what you were saying, he just knew you were cursing that yumkasaur to the high heavens. And as soon as he helped you get your journal back, you cursed the yumkasaur out again as it hissed at you and flew away. 

It took a heavy amount of restraint for Kinich not to burst out laughing. You could’ve sworn a small snort had escaped from his lips as he raised a hand to cover his mouth, but that was the least of your priorities. 

Your main focus was on the big chunk taken out of your journal. 

A few pages of your journal were missing, meaning you had to rewrite three pages (front and back) of all the research you found in some Dahri ruins nearby the Scions of the Canopy. 

To say you had been angry was an understatement. You hadn’t stopped rambling in Mondstadtian for the rest of the week, and Kinich was more than a little worried you were going to throw yourself off the balcony outside your villa. 

(You didn’t, but other people from his tribe did say you spent the remainder of the week in those ruins — which, to be frank, was concerning considering you always outright refused to go exploring during the day. 

When he found you, you were mumbling to yourself and teetering on the edge of becoming someone’s sleep paralysis demon. Long story short, he had to drag you back to your villa.)

Needless to say, that was a fond memory of his, despite your imminent despair that entire week. 

It had been five months since you returned to Sumeru. Five grueling months of convincing himself he didn’t miss you as much as he truly did. 

There was a significant decline in his mood since then. 

Ever since he walked you to the borders between the Children of Echoes’ settlement and the Sumeru desert— where an escort from the Eremites was waiting (he remembered you addressing her as ‘Dehya’) —he’d been all down in the dumps. 

At first, Ajaw had a field day teasing him, until eventually, the mini pixelated dragon got tired of his sour attitude and stopped mentioning you altogether. 

One mention of you and Kinich became snappy and pissy. If he saw something that reminded him of you, he began sulking like a kicked puppy. It was amusing to Ajaw… at first. But as time dragged on, it just made him more and more annoyed. 

(“Are they all you think about!?” Ajaw screamed once after Kinich bought a bottle of Dandelion Wine from that merchant you would always talk to. 

Kinich didn’t answer, but the pout on his lips was enough to make it clear to anyone that yes… you were all he thought about.) 

He found himself back at the same merchant’s stall, immediately putting Ajaw in timeout before he could even utter a word. 

The Mondstadt merchant greeted Kinich with a firm, friendly handshake. “Welcome back! Did you enjoy the Dandelion Wine?” 

Kinich nodded curtly. “Yes. It was quite good. My tribe enjoyed it, as well.” He paused. “Where was it made?” 

The merchant’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He probably wasn’t expecting that question. He stroked his chin. “Well, you’ve probably heard of it if you’re a wine lover, but most alcoholic beverages from Mondstadt are brewed by the famous Dawn Winery.” 

Kinich had heard of it, though only in passing from merchants. 

“The Dawn Winery’s the reason Mondstadt’s even known as the wine capital of Teyvat. Without the winery, Master Diluc, Mondstadt’s fertile soil, and the wine brewing methods taught to us by Lord Barbatos, we wouldn’t be where we are today.” 

“The Anemo Archon taught you how to brew wine?” Kinich raised a brow. 

The merchant nodded. “Why, of course! Back when the people of Mondstadt migrated to Cider Lake, Lord Barbatos taught our ancestors the intricacies of wine making, and over time, his original technique had been refined into what it is today!” 

Interesting. So that was how Mondstadt’s wine business began. 

“We even have wine festivals to honor Lord Barbatos,” the merchant continued, piquing Kinich’s curiosity, “Weinlesefest is the most common. Every harvest, families come together to brew wine and offer it up to Lord Barbatos as a sort of ‘welcome home’ gift for the western wind. If he’s satisfied with the wine, he blesses us with a refreshing breeze.” 

Weinlesefest. He heard you talk about it once in passing with a different merchant. He couldn’t understand what you were saying, as you had been speaking Mondstadtian, but he knew it had to do with a festival; seeing as it was one of the first things the merchant had brought up in conversation. 

“I see.” Kinich nodded curtly, making a mental note to ask you about the Weinlesefest in his next letter. “So… does the whole nation celebrate?” 

The merchant nodded. “Yep! It’s a time of gathering together with family and friends. Mondstadters living away from home usually come back for Weinlesefest.” He let out a heavy sigh. “In fact, it’s happening right now. But work is work, so I can’t visit my wife and kids. I can only hope Lord Barbatos will keep them safe in my absence.” 

Kinich was slowly learning how Mondstadt worked the more and more he talked with Mondstadters. He sent a small smile to the merchant and bought three bottles of wine this time, even going as far as to pay extra. 

“I hope you can return home soon and see your family.” A small pang of something bitter settled in his chest. 

Family. 

“Tschüss.” He muttered, the word feeling odd and unusual on his tongue. 

The merchant’s face lit up with pure, unbridled joy. He shook Kinich’s hand once more, firmer and more enthusiastically than the other times. It was obvious Kinich had just made this man’s day, even if it was something so simple as saying ‘goodbye’ in his language. 

“Tschüss!” 

That night, he sat on his bed, writing out another letter. He occasionally glanced at the last one you had sent him, his fingers gently tracing your elegant handwriting. 

(Name), 

I visited the Stadium today to receive a commission. The merchant you always talk to, Klaus?? was there again. He told me the history behind wine making in Mondstadt. 

It’s interesting that your Archon taught you that. He also mentioned that Weinlesefest is happening right now. I remember you mentioning that festival a few times before. Did you go home for the festival? What does your family do to celebrate? Speaking of… how is your family? And your grandparents?

Everything is going well in the Scions of the Canopy. We’re recovering from the losses of the war, along with the nation as a whole, but there is still a large scar. The toll will be great for a while, but all we can do is move forward and honor the fallen. 

You don’t need to worry about us, by the way. Mavuika is strong. Speaking of Mavuika, she’ll be heading off for the final fight in a few weeks’ time. Everyone’s antsy, but we know she’ll pull through. She isn’t the Archon for nothing. 

-Kinich 

P.S. - Mualani insisted on taking you to visit the People of the Springs the next time you’re here… but knowing you, I don’t think you’ll like the hot springs :P 

P.P.S. U BETER RETURN IN 1 PEACE LOWKY HOOMAN OR I W1LL  KILL U  >:( -AJAW

The day your vacation was confirmed, you jumped for joy right in the middle of the House of Daena. It earned you a halfhearted glare from Alhaitham, the Akademiya’s scribe, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You were just happy you finally got your much needed vacation. 

You weren’t close with the scribe. Your relationship was far from anything like that, but you saw him enough on a daily basis to consider him an acquaintance. He often occupied a table in the House of Daena, either reading a book or writing furiously in a notebook. 

There were a few times you visited his office to drop off parts of your thesis for peer review, though he was never there when you did. His office hours were listed right next to the door in bold letters, yet he was never present for them. It made you raise a brow and wonder how he was even still employed if he never even showed up for his required office hours. 

Though, he did give you the proper feedback you needed for your thesis, so you couldn’t really complain. 

“I didn’t know you oversaw vacation notices,” you said, glancing up at your senior as he stood next to you. “I thought your only job was to record things for the Akademiya. Oh! That reminds me, when is my thesis presentation?” 

He sighed. “Being the scribe is more complicated than that. And yes, all proposals for vacations go straight to my office from the drop box.” 

You hummed. “So like, how does that work? Do you just check a box that says ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” 

“If the proposal was sent in during a break period, then it gets approved. Any proposals sent in after the break period are denied. The presentation for your thesis is scheduled for three months from now in the Vahumana Lecture Hall at two o’clock sharp. The Dendro Archon will be present alongside the Vahumana Sage and the Grand Sage. Be prepared to answer any and all questions from all of them.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you waved him off dismissively, “I already received that info in my mailbox.” 

Three months from now… Did you have anything planned for that day? You thought it over. 

“Shit.” You muttered.

“Something wrong?” Alhaitham questioned, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“My hometown has its annual food festival that week… Ah, well, there’s always next year.” It still stung, though. It would be the first time you missed it. “Besides, I’ll be home for Weinlesefest, so that should be enough.” 

Your parents would be upset, but they’d understand. Your thesis was a big deal, after all. As long as you were home for Weinlesefest, you knew they wouldn’t mind you missing out on Dornman Port’s annual food fest. 

You stood up and grabbed your bag. “Well, I should pack. And mail my letter before I leave.” 

“I’ll be stopping off at Port Ormos later. I can mail it for you.” Alhaitham offered. 

Although he didn’t show it, Alhaitham was kind. This was something you had to learn the hard way after a few misunderstandings. He had his own way of showing kindness, and it was often through his actions rather than his words. 

“Really? That’d be awesome! I have so much to do before I leave, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to make it to the mailing office.” You dug through your bag and pulled out a letter, handing it to him. 

His eyes scanned the envelope, his brow raising slightly in surprise. He shot you a knowing look, but he didn’t pry. 

“Thanks, Scribe!” 

“Alhaitham.” He corrected, nodding curtly before taking his leave. 

You smiled as you watched him go. Friendship with the scribe: secured! 

The boat ride home to Dornman Port was long and grueling, but the crew was friendly and had a good sense of humor. You found yourself making a few new friends in unexpected places. 

The soft breeze of eternal Spring shifted to a biting chill in the air as the boat neared your beloved hometown. The wind whipped violently, howling like the infamous Wolf King of Wolvendom. 

Up North, the winds were harsher and colder. There was a legend in your hometown— that a god ruling over this section of land during the Archon War had died with many regrets, and therefore, cursed the land with a wintry wind that would never cease. 

Whether or not that had been true was a mystery. The god’s name was long forgotten from Mondstadt, and so too was their legacy. The only person who could possibly provide evidence to those events would be the Anemo Archon himself. 

The boat docked and the sailors let out heavy sighs of relief. One clapped you on the back cheerfully. 

“How’s it feel to be home?” He questioned, a big smile on his face as he kicked a wooden plank onto the docks. 

You smiled, inhaling the cold air you missed oh so much. The same air that you had been longing to feel on your skin for months. 

“Good… great, actually!” you answered, thanking him as he helped you off the boat. 

You looked around, taking in the sight of the familiar bustling port with navy rooftops and tightly packed houses. Lanterns were strung between lampposts, ornate garland hung from the sides of houses and wrapped around streetlights. Market stalls occupied every corner, accompanied by the occasional yell of a merchant trying to sell their wares. 

Dandelions were blown up into the air as children roamed the streets, waving around wooden swords and weaving between adults’ legs. A stray dog followed behind the group, barking happily. 

The sweet tune of a lyre and a flute rang in your ears from a distance, and you quickly realized it was that same familiar Dornman lullaby that all Mondstadtians knew by heart— specifically those of you born in the far North. The song was soothing and nostalgic to your ears, opening the floodgates to a whole range of memories from your childhood. 

You inhaled the biting air again, this time with your eyes closed. “Yeah… it’s more than great to be home.” 

The sailors bid you farewell, claiming they’d see you again once you returned to Sumeru. Enthusiastically giving them your goodbyes, you watched as they loaded trade goods onto their ship before taking your leave. 

Dornman was exactly how you left it: serene yet lively. 

You stopped to chat with a few of the elders, greeting them excitedly. They asked about your studies, how your thesis was coming along, and wished you luck in your future endeavors. 

Passing by a group of kids you swore were only a few apples tall the last time you saw them, they called out to you and asked if you brought any souvenirs back for them. Showing them your empty hands, they began to pout and call you old as you playfully threatened to kick their asses. 

They ran away giggling, pretending to scream at the ‘scary monster they provoked.’ 

Shaking your head with a smile, you continued on your walk home, greeting other familiar faces as you did so.

Tucked away behind a few hills and farther from the main streets of the port, was your parents’ house. Seeing the same, old rickety wooden gate still standing tall was a surprise. You could’ve sworn that thing had fallen by now, but it was still here, on its last leg. 

The eager barking of two dogs could be heard as you unlocked the gate and walked up the stone path. Spotting the beds of flowers outside the windows, you smiled. It seemed as though your father had been participating in his yearly flower competition again with the old ladies that lived just down the road. 

You leaned down to take in the smell of the fresh cecilias, your favorite. 

The old door of your home hadn’t changed, and the decorative basket of flowers hanging from the front hadn’t either. You picked up the handle of the dove doorknocker and waited, listening as the sounds of barking got louder and louder. 

A series of locks clicked before the door swung open and two black and brown dogs came tumbling out, knocking you onto the stone path. You laughed as they licked your face, excited for your return. 

“Millie! Hashbrown!” You hugged each of them, placing kisses on their heads before you stood back up. 

Your father embraced you, hugging you tightly. You returned the hug, smiling as you pulled away. He took your bags from you and ushered you inside, claiming your mother had baked a few pies to celebrate your return home. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with your family, telling them all about your studies in the Akademiya and your long trip in Natlan. You told them about Kinich, a man from the Scions of the Canopy. 

That’s when your mother sent you a knowing look. Nothing ever escaped her know, especially when it had to do with crushes. You assumed it was because of that rumored sixth sense that all mothers possessed. Or maybe the smile on your face as you talked about Kinich was just too obvious. 

You told them how you and Kinich wrote letters to each other as much as you could, though it was getting harder for you to keep that up when exams had rolled around. 

“Speaking of mail,” your father interrupted, standing up, “we received a letter a few hours ago from a ‘Kinich.’” 

He handed you the envelope and you snatched it from his hands, ignoring the way he snickered at you as you did so. He took another sip of his beer and sighed. 

“Oh, and there was a package too!” He rummaged around on the kitchen table before handing you a tightly wrapped package. 

Confused, you took it. You had no idea what could even be inside it, but assuming it had arrived at the same time as Kinich’s letter, you guessed it was from him. Your mother stood up. 

“Let’s give them some privacy, dear.” She patted your father’s chest and ushered your siblings out of the room before sending you a wink. 

You rolled your eyes and opened the envelope, smiling absentmindedly at Kinich’s somewhat messy handwriting and the complete scribbles at the bottom of the page that were nearly indecipherable. Judging by the chicken scratch, you deduced the last message had been from Ajaw. 

You ripped open the package and set aside the note. Inside was a handmade blanket with a small note that claimed it was made by the Flower Feather Clan. 

You admired the swirling designs and hugged it to your chest. So he had remembered how much you loved blankets. Receiving such a high quality gift meant the world to you, as did the thought of him going to such lengths to have it handmade just for you. 

Digging through to the bottom of the box, you found a neatly wrapped vintage bottle of Dandelion Wine, silently cheering. You’d enjoy this with your family during the rest of the festival.

One last item sat at the bottom, so small you almost overlooked it. Pulling it out, you slipped it out of the velvet bag it was in and your jaw dropped. A gold necklace with purple and blue crystals fell into your palm, cold to the touch. 

Based on the fine craftsmanship, you could tell it had been crafted by a blacksmith from the Children of Echoes, and the crystals had been from the Masters of the Night Wind. 

Kinich really didn’t have to get you all this. Was there some sort of special occasion, or had he just wanted to send you gifts? You weren’t sure, but you were already thinking of some Mondstadt specialties you could send him in return. 

Heading up to your bedroom, you placed the gifts on your bed and grabbed a piece of paper from your desk. You sat down near the windowsill and unclasped the latch, pushing your window open. A cold breeze wafted inside, the scent of dandelions invading your room. The wind chimes hanging from your window sang in the wind, their sound comforting to your ears. 

You began to write. 

Dear Kinich, 

Thank you for all your thoughtful gifts!! Based on the fact you mentioned Klaus in your letter, I’m guessing you bought the Dandelion Wine off him, didn’t you? 

Pass on my regards to him! Möge der Wind dich beschützen! 

Weinlesefest has officially kicked off! Unfortunately, I missed the opening ceremony in the city, but tomorrow we’ll be opening the wines in my hometown! At least I haven’t missed that! The opening of the wines is the most important part of Weinlesefest, as it honors Lord Barbatos. 

My family is doing great as ever! Same old, same old, honestly. I’ll be seeing my grandparents in a few days, as my family will be taking a trip to the city to celebrate the festival with them! Unfortunately, I have to go back to the Akademiya in a week to continue my studies and refine my thesis per the Scribe’s suggestions. I wish I could be home longer, but school is school :( 

I’m glad to hear everything has blown over somewhat smoothly and all of you are safe. I can’t imagine everything you’ve had to witness, but I’ll offer up prayers of my own for the fallen (is that okay? That isn’t insensitive right…? Please tell me if it is). 

I hope the healing and rebuilding is going smoothly. If I was there, I would help in a heartbeat. Oh! I have an architect acquaintance in Sumeru! Maybe he and his team could help…? Say the word, and I’ll request his help! 

NO, I think I would melt into a puddle if I ever even stepped FOOT into those hot springs… Sorry Mualani, but I’m good… I’d rather stay in the brisk trees of the Scions of the Canopy.

Thank you once again for the gifts. I’ll cherish them. 

Mögen die Feuer von Natlan immer brennen. 

Sincerely, 

(Name) 

P.S. I’ll return back safely to you, Ajaw. Don’t worry! :)

notes: including all the german words were sm fun to do bc i'm german (not too familiar with the language but i'm in the process of learning!) and i am a firm believer that teyvat has their own languages, and dialects within those languages. some translations: danke = thank you, tschüss = goodbye, Möge der Wind dich beschützen = may the wind protect you, Mögen die Feuer von Natlan immer brennen = may the fires of natlan stay ever burning

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[oldsoul007]

off script

nicholas chavez x co-star!reader

summary: nicholas and reader pull a publicity stunt to promote their new movie but maybe theres something more…

During a promotional interview for our movie, the interviewer couldn't help but notice the way Nicholas looked at me. With a curious smile, the interviewer leaned forward and said, "Nicholas, I have to ask—there's something in the way you look at y/n. It's like there's more than just acting going on here."

Nicholas glanced at me , his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. He chuckled nervously before responding, "Well, you know, we've spent a lot of time together for this movie. It's hard not to develop a certain... connection."

The interviewer raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. "A connection, you say? It seems like it's more than just a professional one."

I felt her heart skip a beat as i looked at Nicholas. I could see the sincerity in his eyes. "We've become really good friends through this process," i added, trying to keep my voice steady.

Nicholas nodded, but the look he gave me spoke volumes. It was a look filled with admiration and something deeper, something that couldn't be hidden even under the bright lights of the interview set. The interviewer smiled knowingly, leaving the audience to wonder if there was more to their story than just a movie.

So of course mine and nicholas publicists had a brilliant idea to generate buzz for our upcoming movie. They decided to stage a publicity stunt, wanting us to pretend to be a couple. The plan was simple: act like they were dating, make a few public appearances together, and let the media do the rest.

Of course Cooper, was in on it and went ballistic, because he always couldn't help but tease us about how perfect we would look together.

At first, it was all fun and games. We attended premieres, had dinner dates in front of paparazzi, and even posted cute pictures on social media. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and soon, our "relationship" became the talk of the town. Fans were ecstatic, and the movie's anticipation skyrocketed.

However, as we spent more time together, something unexpected happened. The line between acting and reality began to blur. I couldn't deny the fluttering in my heart whenever Nicholas was around. We shared laughs, deep conversations, and moments that felt all too real.

Cooper, who had always shipped us, noticed the change. "You know, you two aren't just good actors," he said one evening. "I think there's something real here."

Me and Nicholas exchanged glances, both realizing that Cooper might be right. What started as a publicity stunt had turned into something much more profound. We had discovered genuine feelings for each other, and the world could see it too.

As we made our way to the quiet corner of the studio, Nicholas turns to me, his heart pounding. "Y/n, can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

I nodded, my curiosity piqued. "Of course, Nic. What's on your mind?"

Taking a deep breath, Nicholas gathered his thoughts. "During the interview, when the interviewer mentioned the way I look at you, it made me realize something important," he began, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "I've been trying to keep my feelings in check, but I can't ignore them anymore."

My eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and anticipation flickering across her face. "Nic, what are you trying to say?"

Nicholas stepped closer, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "Y/n, I want something more, Working on this movie with you, spending all this time together, it's made me see that my feelings for you are real. It's not just the characters we played; it's us."

For a moment, there was silence as I processed his words. Then, a smile slowly spread across my face, my eyes shining with emotion. "Nicholas, I’ve felt the same way, but I was afraid to say anything."

Relief and joy washed over Nicholas as he closed the distance between them, grabbing my face and pulling me in for a heated kiss. "I'm so glad you feel the same," he whispered, his voice full of emotion in between kisses.

The movie's release was a massive success, but more importantly, Nicholas and i found something truly special in each other.

[munson-blurbs]

How do you think Eddie would react to a fwb reader who uses sex as a distraction from their feelings?? Like, they’ve been having a bad week an their mental state isn’t great but heyyy there’s sex. Reader doesn’t really care about the pleasure part of sex just the distraction. Worried Eddie would feel a little used ngl :P

((Dancy dances away nervously))

I know you started this with "do you think" but my brain said WRITE A BLURB so here we are. Also shoutout @corroded-hellfire for helping me make it cute without being cliche.

Warnings: mentions of smut (18+ only, minors DNI), friends with benefits, angst/yearning, idiots in love, made it fluffy because I'm a sap

WC: 747

--

You hadn’t thought anything of it the night he’d called you “baby.” He was deep within you, melding his body with yours. Lost in the moment.

Or the night he’d mumbled, “your pussy was made for me” while slamming into you from behind. It was just dirty talk; nothing more and nothing less. 

Maybe you should have been tipped off when he’d growled, “mine,” his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed soft kisses below your earlobe. You’d figured the word, like the sex, was meaningless. 

But tonight’s comment stops you in your tracks. Your legs are wobbling beneath you, exhausted from riding him, as you step back into your pants. 

“Do you wanna, like, cuddle for a sec?”

A giggle escapes from your lips, swollen and kiss-bitten. He’s joking; he has to be. The two of you have a perfectly choreographed routine: you have a bad day, you call Eddie, you fuck, and then you leave. And his latest suggestion would definitely interfere with step four. 

When your eyes meet his, you realize that he’s serious. Hurt and confusion at your laughter crease his brows, and he tugs the sheet up a bit higher. 

“Sorry, I, um…” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “Never mind. You probably have to go anyway.”

You’re in no hurry to return home, fresh off of yet another argument with your roommate. That’s why you’d come over to Eddie’s trailer in the first place. And it isn’t as though you’d never thought about being in his strong, tattooed arms. The way he’d hold you flush against him, your cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. It’s something you’d once wanted—craved, even—but you couldn’t let vulnerability infiltrate you like that again. 

You spent high school watching him pine over the cheerleaders. He unwittingly broke your heart over and over with each woman he hooked up with at the Hideout, overlooking you despite your presence at every show. Being friends with benefits is risky enough, and post-sex snuggling will send you teetering over the edge back into the rocky terrain of unrequited love. 

And so you lean into humor as you shrug on your shirt. “I don’t think this friends-with-benefits arrangement includes cuddling.” Keeping your tone light and even, restraining every desire to crawl into bed with him. 

“Right, yeah.” He sighs and offers a sad half-smile. “It’s just…I was thinking—”

“That’s dangerous.”

He flips you off and continues. “I was thinking that maybe we could be more than that. Y’know, maybe we could have sex when you’re happy, too.” 

“I am happy when we have sex,” you counter.

Eddie shakes his head again. “I’m talking about before we do it.” He gnaws on his thumbnail. “It feels like you only want me when you have a bad day. A-And I’m glad I can be here for you and stuff, but sometimes I wonder if I’m a friend or just a good lay.”

You try to look at him when you speak, but he keeps his gaze trained on the ground. “Eddie,” you start, taking a seat next to him. His chest is slick with sweat, the soft hairs matted down. “Eddie, I had the biggest, dumbest crush on you when we were younger. And knowing I couldn’t have you tore me apart.” You let your hand rest on his. “I can’t risk having you and then losing you.”

“Losing me?” Eddie laughs softly and his free palm comes up to cup your cheek. “Look at me. Where am I going?”

“You could find someone new, someone better, someone who—”

He cuts you off with a searing kiss, remnants of your arousal still tinging his lips and tongue. “There’s no one better,” he murmurs. “You see me answering the door at two in the morning for anyone else? Think I’d miss out on precious sleep for them?” 

One arm hooks around you back and pulls you in until you assume the little spoon position. Nimble fingers undo the button of your jeans, slowly and patiently, a stark contrast to the way he’d practically torn the denim removing them earlier. 

“‘S that comfier?” He asks through a yawn.

“Mhm.” And it is. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been in a while, at least without him inside you. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. He staves off sleep long enough to speak one last time. 

“I’m glad you’re staying, baby.”

--

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

How the kings would react to the shipping of them and MC

Satan

He was hanging out with his nobles, just talking gossip like normal people

But Paimon was just staying on his phone through half the conversations

"Paimon! What's so important that you're not interested in seing Sitri's baby pictures?"

Sitri was dying in the corner while Zagan was rubbing his back

Paimon takes his eyes out of his phone and giggles.

"Oh, I was just arguing with some people onlineeee"

Satan puts down the pictures of baby Sitri on the table (which Astaroth swiftly takes for himself. This will make such great blackmail material) and sits next to Paimon curiously.

"What are these dumpass arguing about now? Don't tell me Leraye started sending death threats to Barbatos over the weather again."

"Noooooo, it's better than thaaaaat. People are arguing about who the child of Solomon would dateeeee"

Satan takes Paimon's phone and starts to scroll through the comversations.

"And I'm winning, right? I mean MC has a pact with me, I was the first to meet them, it's obvious that I'm the one they'll choose"

"I know, riiiiiight?"

Satan would become the most active person in the shipping forum, just spamming it with pictures of him and MC

It's a way to assert his dominance over the whole thing.

Gamigin almost started a war between Paradise Lost and Gehenna when he started insulting Satan under his photos of MC

Mod Jjok had to work overtime to stop the harassment everyone in Gehenna was throwing at Gamigin for that

Lucifer had to send a formal apologise on behalf of his son to stop the situation from escalating further.

Mammon

Recently Eligos asked him to try on different fashion styles

At some point Mammon asks Eligos what this is all about

"The child of Solomon mentioned that they are interested in gothic fashion, so I'm trying to see what clothing would fit you and abide by goth fashion rules."

Mammon chuckles and ruffles Eligos' hair before telling him that he is already to his master's liking

"But there are a lot of people that claim that MC would be more interested in the other kings. We can't have that! Just yesterday Amon was bragging that MC and Beelzebub went on a date!"

"I'm glad they had fun with Beelzebub, but Beelzebub is mine and I am MC's. They can have fun with anyone they please."

Eligos' jaw drops to the floor. He gets flashbacks of all the arguments he had online about this and how he bought bots to mass report any Mammon x Mc slander

Eligos constantly tries to convince Mammon that the shipping wars are a big but Mammon doesn't really care.

At most he sends pictures of him and MC cuddling to Satan to spite him like all good friends do with eachother.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a lurker through the forums

It's where he got most of his information about you before kidnapping you

Probably reports all posts that aren't for the ship with him and you for false information

He would constantly post pictures of you and him doing mundane things with captions like "Living life perfectly", "Greatest day of my life", "Me and my wonderful significant other"

Makes everyone in Hades like his post and floud it with compliments

He'll make an account for you where he roleplays as a version of you that's madly innlove with you

The most likely to start an actual war between Hades and whatever ship is trending that morning

He sometimes doesn't sleep and just scrolls through the forums, refreshing constantly to see if you're having fun with someone else

King of all doxxers

No VPN will protect you from Leviathan's wrath

Beelzebub

Beelzebub was tied to his office chair with Bael glaring at him

"Go on, look at the complaint. What does it say?"

"I should take a vacation. I'm already burned out. You know, overworking is very bad for your health."

Bael glares at him with not an ounce of amusement behind his eyes

When Beelzebub skims through the files, something catches his attention

"Threat of war from Hades? I don't remember going to Hades recently, what happened?"

"While you were away having fun with the child of Solomon, Amon posted pictures of you two going at it on a forum. Next thing I know, his majesty Leviathan declared war on Avisos. I had to talk him out of it, but we now have to write a report about what happened and send it to the other kingdoms to tell them that it was resolved without any casualties."

Beelzebub was laughing his ass off while Bael was question his life choices

Beelzebub asks Amon to show him the forum which the younger devil does happily.

He sometimes go through it often, but he uses it as a way to find out where you are.

He's chiller about the whole thing, finding it kind of funny that so many people are so invested in your love life

Lucifer

Gamigin won't shut up about it.

If Lucifer took a shot every time Gamigin complained about the shipping wars, he'll dethrone Beelzebub as the king of Gluttuny

Lucifer is a softer lover, only being intense in more private parts of your relationship

So even getting him to kiss you in public (or outside the bedroom) is very hard.

This makes Gamigin's job as a shipper very hard

Lucifer finds the shipping war situation absurd

Why would anyone do this? What is it accompleshing? Why does he suddently get embargos from Hades or Gehenna after he goes on a date with you?

He'll probably have to sit Gamigin down and tell him to stop calling the other kings rude names just because they hang out with you.

It really depends on your reaction to everything as well

If you like being in the spot light, than he'll try to be more open with his affection, giving Gamigin more oportunities to gush about you online

If you want to keep your relationship more private, than he'll make all cameras fracture when pointing at the two of you

[afterglowsainz]

fresh out the slammer | max verstappen

summary: after you broke up with your boyfriend, you join your friends for a night out in monaco and decide it's a good idea to invite max

warnings: fluff, mentions of breakups, drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of a situationship with max

the tortured athletes department series

it’s been one month since you and your ex-boyfriend of one year broke up. you couldn’t say you were heartbroken because you really weren’t, like most men do at some points in their lives, he was disappointing you long before you broke up with him, so in a way, you mourn your relationship while you were still in it. now you just felt a bit lonelier than before, but you had definitely moved on.

on a saturday night, you had a few friends over to your monaco apartment for dinner and a very well deserved gossip session. you told them all about your breakup with your most recent boyfriend and how you were feeling almost too good.

“guys, what if we go out?” one of your best friends suggests. “a friend of mine is having a party at this club downtown and is supposed to be this very exclusive thing.” you thought about it for a few seconds after agreeing. it has been a while since you went out with your friends, especially in monaco where everything can happen. you got ready in less than ten minutes since you already were put together and joined your friends in the car on your way to the club. 

during the quick ride you check your instagram and saw that your friend max posted a story. you and max have had this weird relationship for years, were you’re both really close friends who’ve also liked each other forever, but none of you had actually made a move on each other (except for that one time, but you’ve never talked about it). you clicked on his profile picture and the story popped up, a picture of him and his friends playing fifa on his couch. you smiled and liked the photo, putting your phone away.

once you got to the club your friend led you all to the entrance and when she gave her name to the bouncer they let you all in. the place was completely packed, but she took you all to a place on the top that was a bit less full and looked more like that exclusive event your friend was talking about. soon enough, alcohol was running through your system and your body was moving along with the blasting music at the club when a thought almost made you stop on your tracks. you looked for your best friend all over the place and ran over to her when you saw her near the bar.

“hey.” you call out loudly over the music.

“hey.” she smiled at you. “having fun?” she asks and you nod.

“can i tell you this idea i just had?” she takes a sip from her drink and nods. “would it be a good idea if i invited max?” her eyes widen with surprise and gives you a knowing smile.

“max like max verstappen?” she asks. “like your max?” you nod again, this time more euphorically.

“yes, my max.” you took a sip of your drink and cleared your throat. “he’s in monaco, so why not? the worst that can happen is he says no.” you shrug, like the idea of him not wanting to see you didn’t kill you a bit inside.

“go for it!” she exclaims. “absolutely, yes, invite him over.”

you smiled and headed over to the balcony, relieved to feel the cold air of the monaco night hit your skin, cooling you down. you took out your phone and hover over max’s contact for a moment, wondering if you should text or call first. you decided to call since that would be much more immediate. you listen to the phone ringing for a few moments and when you thought it would send you to voicemail, you heard max’s familiar voice.

“hello.” he answers.

“heyyy.” you greet him with a smile that he couldn’t see.

“y/n.” he calls your name with happiness. “how are you?”

“i’m good, how are you?” you ask. “what are you up to?”

“oh, i’m good, yeah.” he says. “just hanging out with some friends. you?”

“i’m in monaco.” you say looking at the stars. “actually, i’m at this club, i was wondering if you wanted to come? you can bring your friends, my friends are here too.”

you waited for him to answer so long you thought the line had dropped.

“what club are you in?” you gave him the name and heard some loud voices in the background. “okay, we’ll be there in twenty.”

you smiled at the sky and bit your lip.

“okay.” you answered and finished the call.

when you got back inside you met your friends again and let them know that max was coming with his friends. twenty minutes later, you were still dancing in the middle of the place when someone tapped your shoulder with tenderness. when you turned around you saw those blue eyes that you loved staring back at you.

“hello, you.” you smiled at him and he returned it.

“long time no see.” he said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek. you felt yourself flustered and were grateful that the place was mostly dark with a few colored lights.

“you should’ve told me when you got here, i would’ve gone outside to get you.” you frowned, ignoring the blush on your face.

“i wanted it to be a surprise.” he defends himself. 

“it can’t be a surprise if i invited you.” you fought back and he placed his arm around your shoulders.

“you know what i mean.” he clicked his tongue, teasing you.

you spent the next hour dancing, drinking and talking with max. it was like the world around you had disappeared and it was only the two of you left in that club. when you took a quick break from dancing he got close to you and whispered in your ear.

“do you want to go outside?” he asks. you felt yourself blush again but nodded.

he was about to guide you to the balcony but you redirected him to the exit of the club. you stopped briefly to let your friend know that you were leaving with max for a moment so she wouldn’t worry and she just winked at you. you took his hand so you wouldn’t lose him while walking through all the people at the club and once you were outside you dropped his hand, even though you didn’t really wanted to, but the last thing you wanted was to make it uncomfortable for him.

“you wanna take a walk?” he asks while taking his jacket and putting it around your shoulders.

you nod and smile at him, grateful for his jacket. you both start walking along the streets, talking about nothing in particular until he makes the question you knew he wanted to ask all night.

“how’s it going with your boyfriend?” he doesn’t look at you while asking, no matter how much you wanted him to do so.

“we broke up.” you answer dryly.

“oh.” he finally looks at your face for any hint of sadness, but there is none. you’re not sad about it.

“how’s it going with your girlfriend?” you ask now, remembering the gorgeous redhead he was dating a few months ago.

it was on one of those few occasions both of you were in monaco at the same time. you were leaving from café de paris with your best friend and you crossed him at the entrance, next to him was one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen, holding his hand. you remembered she introduced herself as his girlfriend and your heart skipped a beat at the word, even though you had no right to feel anything like that since you had a boyfriend yourself. you said your goodbyes and he did too and that was the last time you saw him.

“what was her name again?” you asked. “i can’t remember.”

“we broke up.” max ignored your last question, answering the first one you asked instead.

“oh.” you frowned, sad for him for whatever reason. maybe it was the alcohol in you bringing out all the emotions. “what happened?”

“it just didn’t work out.” he answers simply, giving you a reassuring smile.

“when did you break up?” you knew you were a bit out of line meddling into his relationship. especially when he didn’t ask you these types of questions about your own breakup, but you couldn’t help it.

“a few months ago.” he said, completely unfazed by your curiosity. “actually, it was the day you met her.”

“at the café de paris?” you questioned with surprise and he nodded. “why would you break up with your girlfriend there? it’s such a lovely place.”

he wanted to laugh at your remark, but bit his lip instead.

“i saw you.” he whispered and you felt like all the air was leaving your lungs.

“you broke up with your girlfriend because you saw me?” you ask incredulously and he nods again. “why would you do that?”

“why do you think, y/n?”

he holds your eyes for a few seconds until you turn your head and continue walking. you didn’t answer him and he didn’t say anything else, his words hanging in the air while you got wrapped into a comfortable silence. you were trying to process his train of thought while also processing yours. could his words have such an impact on you? did he feel about you the same way you’ve always felt about him? would he want to try something with you? with each question you asked in your head, you felt yourself leaning more and more into max until the back of your hands brushed each other while walking. he felt so familiar in so many ways.

before you could realize it, you were both outside of your apartment building. did you really walk this much?

“well.” he said, breaking the silence. “i guess this is where i leave you.” he pointed with his chin at the building.

you looked at him for a few seconds, your mind racing ten thousand miles per hour.

“you could stay.” you whisper.

max looked at you, a sparkle in his eyes you knew too well.

“you’re drunk.” he murmured, just like you had. you shook your head and got closer to him, touching the collar of his shirt gently.

“just as much as you.” you were so close you could see every speck of color in his eyes. “i think the walk here sober me up, anyway.” you joke, taking your eyes off of him, fearing that looking at him a second longer would make you do something unexpected.

“are you sure about this?” he took your face between his hands, forcing you to look at him. the beautiful blue of his eyes was now much darker and you fell a little bit more in love just by looking at them.

“of course i’m sure.” your voice low, only for him to hear. “i’ve always been.”

his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, and then back into your eyes.

“come inside.” you ask.

he smiles at you like he just won a championship, taking your hand and pulling you into the building.

[bed-chemist]

Smoking 🍃 with vinnie smut cause he’s so pookie bear (make it rough too please 💀💀)

❝FMB❞ - vinnie hacker x reader

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask. FMB means f⋆ck me back. hopefully it's rough enough. this is my first smut post so i didn't want to make it too too rough, just fyi. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ summary: you and vinnie have a complex relationship. it all comes to a head when you become bold enough to confront him post-blunt.

─⋆♡ warnings: overstimulation, softdom!vinnie, smut, fluff towards the end, tiny bit of angst, 18+ black!writer, language, alcohol, drugs, D!NC, physical descriptors (brief), choking, spitting, slight exhibitionism if you squint, claiming, rough smut, squirting, anal play, unprotected sex (i do not condone irl, wrap before you tap).

⋆word count: 3.9k ⋆ masterlist ⋆

The loud bass of music floats in the background as I tap through Snapchat stories on my phone. The couch next to me dips and when I turn, I see Vinnie has joined me.

He doesn’t speak to me before pulling out a blunt and sparking it. As is, me and Vinnie’s relationship was complicated. We started off as friends, then smoke buddies. But the more we smoked together, the more we felt for each other. Or at least, I fell for him.

We had kissed and made out, but we’ve never had sex. After a few dates, I was becoming restless. The frustration of his mixed signals got the best of me. Now in the darkness of the crowded room, I’ve become bold enough to confront him.

I watch him as he inhales and exhales the smoke like a chimney. He seemingly notices my intense stare and stops. “Did you need something?” he asks with an attitude.

You can practically feel steam whistling out of your ears from how fuming your brain is right now. “Yeah actually. Give that to me,” I snap, pointing at his blunt.

He shrugs, ashing the blunt on the coffee table. “Okay,” he concedes, passing me the joint.

Letting the smoke dance in my lungs, I choke it out slowly. Now that the weed is hitting, I decide now is the time. “Vinnie, are you still interested in me?” I ask him abruptly.

He chuckles and takes the blunt from me. “Oh, baby. Of course I fucking am. Why would you even ask me that?” he shoots back with an eyebrow raised.

Frowning, I pick at my cuticles out of nervousness. “Because we go on dates, we kiss, but we’ve never had sex. I just don’t know what you want any more,” I confess, standing from the couch in a huff. 

Of course, I want to take things further. But I’m not sure if he wants me anymore when he barely touches me.

He stops me from moving any further, tugging my hand. I grudgingly turn around, looking down at him. “Because, doll. We haven’t had the sex talk yet,” he discloses, rubbing his free hand up and down my thigh.

I roll my eyes and scoff, snatching the blunt out of his hands to take a hit. He places his hands on my hips, watching me intensely. “What do you mean by ‘sex talk’? I’m not 5,” I ask after blowing out a toke.

He stands until he’s staggering high towers over me. “I mean…” he pushes lightly, backing me into the wall so I’m trapped between his body and the drywall. “I want to know what you like, what you don’t like, and what you’ll beg for before I feel you cumming on my cock,” he whispers in my ear, licking a stripe up my neck afterward. 

My head tips back in a moan, which makes him as hard as a rock. “Fuck, baby. Do you see what you do to me? I want nothing more than to make you feel good, in the best way that I can, for the rest of my life.” he presses his body into mine, slowly kissing up my neck.

One of the partiers comes up behind Vinnie and taps him on the shoulder. He ignores them, waving them off with the rest of the blunt. His hand moves to the inside of my thigh and he rubs me so close that I know he can feel the inside of my legs shake. “Should I take care of you right here?” he bites my neck, and I whimper, pulling his hair.

Vinnie pulls back from me, piercing a hole into my eyes. “Please?” I beg, gnawing on my lip.

He uses the other hand and wraps it around my throat, effectively restricting my breathing. He tilts my head to the side. “Do you think you deserve it?” he whispers against my lips with his eyebrow raised. 

Struggling, I lightly nod my head in his firm grip. “Yes, Vinnie,” I squeak out, and he gives me one last squeeze on the throat before grabbing my wrist and yanking me through the crowd.

Bodies brush past me as Vinnie drags me up the steps to his room. “Wait, where are we going?” I ask, confused. He just asked if I needed to be taken care of right there and then... I did say yes.

“You think I’m gonna let everyone watch me fuck you?” he scoffs.

Once we got the sex talk out of the way, Vinnie makes quick work to get me undressed. I moan into the darkness of the room as Vinnie leaves love bites down my neck, only breaking the contact to lift my tank top over my head. He pauses his movements to take in the black lacy bralette I'm wearing. “Fuck, baby. You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, then smashes his lips back onto mine. 

He slams me against his closed bedroom door before slowly dropping down onto his knees. Watching him sink to the ground has an involuntary giggle leaving my lips. “Vinnie, I didn’t think you were going to actually-” he cuts me off, spinning me around so my ass is facing him.

Suddenly, an echoing smack verberates off the walls and my ass cheeks are on fire. Yelping, I sink my teeth into my bottom lips, trying to muffle the noise I’m making.

He slowly inches his hands up my legs until my skirt is fully pushed up to my stomach. His fingers meet my panties, and he runs my fingers over them, seemingly savoring every last moment. “Did you wear these for me, sunshine?” He hooks one finger under one side, pulling it back and making the elastic snap around my hips.

I reach out to support myself on anything to keep my knees from buckling. “No,” I joke, and he bends my knees a bit.

He rubs calming circles into the back of my thighs with his thumbs. “Don’t need you collapsing on my baby,” he informs me.

Taking both sides in his hands, he rips the fabric in half and shreds it off my body like paper. “Shame. I would’ve let you keep them.” 

Gasping, I look down and watch them fall to the ground. He palms my ass, spreading my cheeks further apart. “Bend over just a little bit more, baby,” he instruct, kissing my ass on both sides. 

Slowly shifting in his grasp, I whine as I bend over. I’m desperate for him, all over me. Filling every hole over and over again until I’m screaming for help.

He hovers his mouth over my pussy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he praises me, running his pointer finger up and down my folds to collect my wetness.

“Let me tell you something, sunshine,” he grumbles, rubbing his fingers in circles on my puffy, swollen nub. “There's absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Do you understand?” he looks up at me, awaiting my response.

Unable to focus, I just nod my head.

“You have to use your words, baby.” he instantly retracts his fingers from my clit bringing them into his mouth. With a pop, he pulls them out, moaning at the taste of my arousal.

I groan, throwing my head back in frustration. “Yes, I know. Just please take care of me, Vinnie,” I practically beg for the second time tonight.

He returns his fingers to my pussy, slowly rubbing around my entrance. “If you asked me to shoot myself, I would,” he growls, slowly sinking his fingers into me. Curling them downwards on every thrust, his fingers search for that spongy spot. He pulls out and thrusts into me again, and my breath quickens. “If you asked me to slit my wrists, I would.” Quickening his pace, my moans echo through the large bedroom. “You gotta stay quiet, baby. I wanna be the only one to hear those pretty moans.” 

He uses his free hand, bringing it up to my clit, rubbing fast circles on my sensitive bud. His fingers are thrusting into me at such an intense rate that I feel the world collapsing beneath me. My pussy contracts around his fingers and he groans deeply, sending a shiver up my spine. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sunshine,” he commands, hitting my sweet spot. 

I mewl, obeying his commands, and begin rocking back into him. My orgasm starts approaching rapidly, his fingers drive into me at an unrelenting pace. When my walls flutter, he instantly slows his pace. “Not yet, baby. You can’t cum until you’re quiet.”  

Crying again, I bring my hand up to muffle the sound successfully. He applies more pressure on the quick circles he’s drawing on my clit. I arch my back again until I’m moving with his fingers just as he requested. I moan loudly, the coil in my stomach about to snap. 

He blows a quick shot of air onto my exposed clit, the chill making the coil snap. My vision turns white as I quietly moan out, "Fuck, Vinn.”

“That’s it, sunshine. Cum for me, let go,” he murmurs underneath me, and I can feel the lust dripping off his tongue as my orgasm rocks through me. The pace of his fingers doesn’t slow as he works me through my orgasm, and I hear my nails scratch against the drywall. My legs quake and my back arches slightly, my mouth opening in a silent moan. 

He slows his thrusting and pulls out of me, rising to his feet. He turns me around to face him, his eyes taking in the fucked out expression on my face. “You wanna know how good you taste, baby?” Grabbing my chin, he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.

I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath and lean back into the wall. “Yes,” I whisper, and as soon as the words leave my lips, his fingers sink into my mouth. Deciding to tease him, I swirl my tongue around his digits, imagining my tongue on his cock. His fingers push back further into my throat until I gag a little, then he pulls them out. Fucking hope he’s impressed that I can take them that far without coughing.

Without another thought, I smash my lips against his, savoring the taste of my orgasm on his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good. I could eat you forever,” he growls, moving my body back onto the bed.

He crawls on top of me and his bulge is pressed into me once again. “Vinnie, please. I need you.” I whimper into his mouth as my shaky fingers move to slowly unbutton his shirt. 

But he grabs my wrists, stopping me. “I got it, sunshine,” he laughs, then makes quick work to remove his shirt. 

I shamelessly watch as he slowly strips out of his pants and his boxers. Even though I’ve seen him naked in front of me before, he’s never fully been hard. His dick is beautiful. His swollen head is already dripping with precum, making him look good enough to deep throat. 

Vinnie slowly climbs back onto the bed and my eyes widen, realizing what’s about to happen. My breathing quickens in anticipation as he comes down to kiss me hard and deep. 

I moan into him, but my hands move to his chest to push him back as I look down, suddenly scared. “It’s too big, I don’t think it’ll fit,” I insist, crawling away from him.

He grabs my ankles, pulling me back down. “We’re gonna make it fit, baby,” he retorts, his eyes dark. 

The tip of his dick moves back and forth in between my folds, collecting wetness. I whimper, squeezing his shoulders. 

“Hey, sunshine. Look at me.” He grabs my chin until I make eye contact with him. “We can stop if you want to stop. I won't go any further,” he reassures, resting his forehead on mine.

I immediately shake my head, inhaling a sharp breath. “No, I want this–I want you. Just be careful, please.” I pull him into me for a heated kiss and tug his hair, making him groan and deepen the kiss. 

Finally, he pulls back and lines himself up near my entrance, spitting and letting the dribble collect on his base. “This is gonna hurt, so just relax for me, baby.” My legs are pushed open a little wider. 

I nod, trying to calm myself, and he laces his fingers in mine before he moves. The tip of his shaft pushes in, and I gasp at the stretch. “Shit, Vinnie,” I cry out, squeezing his hands until my knuckles turn white. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, the burn from his girth sends fire into my core. 

Immediately, he stops moving, looking into my eyes. “Do you want me to stop? I’ll stop,” he groans out. 

I bite my lip, shaking my head no. 

He kisses the corner of my eyes and whispers, “Okay, just relax for me, sunshine. I’ll try to make this quick.” He continues to sink slowly into me, bottoming out, and I wince again. To allow me to adjust to his length, he pauses his movements. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he breathes, bending down to kiss my neck. And then, he slowly starts rocking into me and the burn is replaced with a familiar warmth. 

“Oh, god. Vinnie,” I moan, releasing his hands to claw at his back for support. 

He’s hitting the perfect spot already, and he just got inside me. He continues to slowly push in and out of me, allowing me to savor the feeling of him inside me. I moan, biting on his shoulder. 

“More.” My legs are already shaking. “Give me more,” I demand, kissing up to his ear.

Pulling back, he looks at me. “Are you sure?” His hand strokes my curls.

I pull him down into a kiss, allowing my tongue to explore his mouth once more. “Yes, please. Use me, fuck me,” I beg, squirming underneath him.

Vinnie fists the sheets below my head and adjusts his position. I brace myself. “The safe word is ‘moon’, Sunshine. Use it if you need it.” He kisses my neck once more and begins driving into me at a steady, even rate. The tip of his length kisses my g-spot with each stroke. “Fuccckkkk,” he growls into my ear, and I feel myself squeezing him when the words hit my eardrums. 

“Vinnie,” I moan. 

The only sound outside of our pants and moans is the sound of his skin slapping against mine as he fucks me. He wraps his tattooed hand around my throat, leaning in for a kiss. And as if I wasn't already in heaven, he brings his fingers down to rub quick circles on my clit. 

“I’m gonna cum, doll. But I need to feel you squeezing me before I do,” he commands, and I cry as I arch into him. 

He pounds into me steadily, rocking my body into the bed. Each stroke pushes me closer and closer over the edge until I feel myself contracting around him. 

“Cum with me, sunshine,” he whispers against my lips, and it sends me over the edge. 

Arching my back and screaming, I claw at his back and bite his shoulder as my orgasm hits me like a train. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he lifts my hips slightly. 

“Where do you want me to cum, love?” His dick kisses my cervix, and I know I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But I can’t bring myself to give a shit right now. 

He twitches inside me, and I lick a stripe up his neck. “Cum in me, Vinnie,” I whimper, and he growls into my neck. 

His seed spills inside me, his strokes becoming uneven. I moan at the feeling, and squeeze around him, milking out every drop of his cum as he paints my walls. It fills me up and I’ve never felt better after sex. 

He stills inside me, kissing me breathlessly, and takes a few moments to catch his breath. Before he pulls out, I wrap my arms around him, causing him to bury further inside me. “Stay,” I plead, tears threatening to spill over in my eyes.

He softly strokes my hair, wrapping his arm around me and slowly flipping us over so I’m on top. “Okay, sunshine. I got you. Fuck, that was the fastest I’ve ever cum before in my life,” 

Like I requested, he doesn’t pull out. Just pulls me closer into his body until I’m melting into the beautiful tattoos on his chest. His fingers begin tracing light patterns across my back. 

I sniffle, looking up at him with a small smile on my face, and he looks at me. “You okay, sunshine?” he asks, and I shift on his length a little bit. 

Sitting up to put my hands on his chest, I feel his dick twitching and growing inside me. “Yeah. Let's go again,” I giggle, bending down to kiss him. It surprises me how he’s already ready for round two, but I don’t complain. 

He groans into my mouth, wrapping his decorated arms around my waist. Slowly, I lift myself until I feel his tip threatening to slip out. I slide back down onto him, filling myself completely and moaning at the change of position. 

His hands tighten around my waist, helping me swirl my hips around. “I want you to know you’re mine, sunshine,” he groans, reaching up to play with my nipples as I moan at the feeling of him stretching me from this angle. 

I pick up my pace, bouncing on his dick until he’s hitting my perfect spot over and over again. My legs shake, and I feel my third orgasm approaching rapidly. My hand moves to his neck, squeezing it hard. I feel so fucking powerful, making myself cum with his length. 

Vinnie looks up at me with amazement in his eyes and slides his thumb in between us to apply pressure on my clit. I throw my head back and moan, still choking him. “God. You look so pretty when you moan.” 

The pace of his thumb quickens, and I topple over the edge, crashing into my third orgasm with a loud cry. I release my hand on his neck, falling forward. Vinnie removes his hand from my clit to catch me and keep from coming down on his body. He allows me to rest on his chest as he starts to fuck up into me, elongating my orgasm. 

“Vinnie,” I choke out, and my voice bounces off his walls. 

He picks up his pace, driving into me from below. “That’s it, doll. Scream my name. Let the world know who fucking owns you.” 

He pounds my body into his, and I grip his shoulders when I feel a tingling sensation on my clit. Wetness suddenly shoots out from between my legs, running down my thighs and covering his stomach. My whole body quakes, but he doesn’t slow down. 

“Fuck, sunshine. Look at the mess you made, cumming all over me.” 

My brain is on a different planet as he slows down, allowing me to glance down at the soaked sheets. He slowly pulls me off him and I wince, falling backward onto the bed. Then, Vinnie moves me so I’m laying on my side, out of the wet spot, before slowly pushing back into me, spooning me, and caressing my hair. “No one will ever fuck you ever again, for the rest of your life but me. Do you understand?” 

Slamming into me at an unrelenting pace, he bites my neck. His hand wraps around my throat, applying a bit of pressure. Every thrust sends me closer to the edge, and the only thing I register is him kissing the back of my neck. I’m so fucked, I can’t speak. I can’t think. 

“Yes,” I babble out, arching my back into him. 

All I feel is pure bliss. The room is spinning, and I feel another orgasm rapidly approaching. He nibbles a love bite into my neck, hitting my G-spot over and over again. My thighs are lifted a little higher until I see white. “Cum for me again, Sunshine. You feel so good when you squeeze me,” he mumbles into my neck.

I shake my head, and gripping his forearm that chokes me. “I can’t,” I cry, looking at the view from his room— everything is spinning. 

Vinnie increases his pace, slamming into me. “You can, and you will,” he snarls in my ear. 

I feel the tears spilling over in my eyes as he applies more pressure on my throat. The overstimulation of his dick drilling into me repeatedly sends me toppling over another edge, and I wail his name, feeling my soul leave my body. Everything feels fuzzy as his thrusts become sloppy before he lets out an animalistic grunt. I feel his dick twitch, then, shooting hot ropes into me. The heat of it makes me feel like I’m going to pass out, and I moan at the sensation. He continues to slowly thrust into me, riding out both of our orgasms. 

After we’re both spent, he buries himself deep inside me, stroking my hair and peppering kisses on my shoulder as I come down from my high. “You did so well for me, Sunshine. Fucking fantastic,” he praises.

He slowly caresses my hips as my body shakes against his. I wince as he slowly pulls out and scoots down to the bottom of the bed. Spreading my legs wide open, he watches our cum leak out of me. My swollen pussy contracts around nothing, pushing his seed out, and I hear him groan. 

He brings his fingers up to my entrance and I wince. “Shhh, Sunshine, I’m just making sure we don’t waste a drop,” he coos, stuffing his fingers into me and massaging my g-spot. 

An inevitable moan leaves my lips I arch my back to get closer to him. “You want to cum again?” He asks before leaning over to flick his tongue over her my. Crying out at the overstimulation, I shake my head. 

“Too bad, baby.” he quickly thrusts into me with his fingers, moaning at the taste of our orgasms mixing. His tongue flicks over my swollen, puffy clit. I haven’t used our safe word, and I know he’s going to keep pushing me until I say it.

Vinnie removes his tongue from my clit and he uses his other hand to collect our orgasms on his finger. The pace of his fingers slows and he begins rubbing a circle around my tight hole. He slowly pushes his finger into my ass, fucking me with both hands. 

I’m unable to control my movements as I thrash underneath him. His finders drive in and out, reaching the most delicious spot. 

“Give me one last one, Sunshine. I promise I’ll let you stop after,” he orders, and I move my hands to his hair to tug on it.

He pushes his finger further into my ass, curling it a bit more, and I snap. Neglecting his noise warning, my screams and my moans erupt through the room. He moans as he works both of my holes through what I assume is my last orgasm. 

As finally comes down, I whimper, “Moon,” and he stops and slowly pulls his fingers out, satisfied with my overstimulation. 

He crawls up my body, grabbing my face so I'm forced to look at him. “You're everything to me–perfect and mine,” he mumbles into my mouth and I wipe away the tears in my eyes. 

My brain buzzes with post-sex high. “Only for you,” I whisper into the night.

I did so well, and I am his.

[cumonstevie]

"Hello? Who Is This?"

Summary: Steve and your little brother bond via play phone.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: nothing but fluff

A/N: I haven't proof-read this yet, so I'll do that when I wake up. I was just excited to FINALLY post something after like, 2 years. I hope you guys like it!

“I hate this,” Steve says as he closes his math book. “I don’t even like math.”

You playfully roll your eyes at your boyfriend before turning them back to your own math book. “Nobody likes math,” you say, “but it’s mandatory so…”

Steve groans and throws himself on your couch, burying his face in the soft cushion. “Can’t we take a little break?”

His words are muffled but you can understand what he’s saying.

“Steve…”

“Pleaseee,” he sits upright and gives you puppy eyes, “We’ve been going at this since school let out.”

You didn’t get the chance to respond when the front door opened and in came your mom with your two year old brother on her hip. Though, if you could respond, you would have said yes to the break.

“Steeb!” your baby brother yelled out as his eyes set on your boyfriend beside you.

He wiggled around in your mom's arms until she set him down and he came running into the living room, completely disregarding you and going over to Steve.

“Hey buddy!” Steve exclaimed happily, lifting him up and giving him a big hug.

Your mom chuckled at your brother’s excitement for the older male as she set down the groceries that were still in her hand. “Hi Steve.”

Steve looks over at your mom and smiles. “Hello Mrs. Y/L/N!”

“I hope you guys had enough time to yourselves because I don’t think Kyle is going to leave you alone.” she chuckles as she watches your brother cuddle up to Steve.

“Y/N’s gonna have to deal with it, I gotta spend time with my best friend now that he’s home, right Ky?” He looks down at your brother and he nods.

“Right!”

You playfully roll your eyes and make your way to the kitchen to help your mother put the groceries away while Steve and Kyle busied themselves playing with the building blocks that were nearby.

About an hour later, your mother took your brother upstairs for a nap so you and Steve could continue to study but this time it was a different subject. However, thirty minutes into Steve quizzing you with flashcards, Kyle comes running down the hall with his play phone in hand and your mom following behind him.

“He only slept for a little bit.” she tells you. “Guess I’ll get started on dinner.”

Your mom disappears into the kitchen and you turn back to Steve.

“Ready for another one?” he asks and you give him a firm nod. “Okay, how does dynamics differ from kinematics?”

You open your mouth to answer but before you could, your brother appears in front of the two of you. Kyle grunts and extends his arm toward Steve, offering him the play phone and Steve doesn’t miss a beat.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” your boyfriend apologizes to you as he takes the play phone from the tiny human in front of him, pressing it up to his ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

Steve stands up and starts pacing the living room with one hand on his hip while your brother stares up at him.

“No I’m sorry I can’t be your best friend, I already have one and he’s standing right next to me.” Steve pauses like someone else is talking on the phone then with a shake of his head, he sinks down to his knees in front of Kyle and passes him the play phone. “Here, talk some sense into him because he’s clearly not understanding what I’m saying.”

Kyle puts the phone to his ear and looks at Steve. “What do I say?”

“Tell him I can’t be his best friend because I’m already your best friend.” he whispers to the two year old.

“Otay.” Kyle whispers before turning his attention to the play phone. “He not your best friend, he mine!” your brother shouts then smiles at Steve. “That good?”

Steve gives your brother a thumbs up. “That’s great buddy.”

Suddenly, Kyle gasps and quickly hands the play phone over to Steve. “He said he want to talk to Steeb!”

He nods and takes the phone with a stern look on his face. “Listen mister, I don’t want to be best friends with you because Kyle is already my best friend, okay? Tell him.”

Steve brings the play phone to your brother where he shouts a “yeah!”

“So don’t call me again, alright? Bye.” He pretends to hang up the phone before handing it back to Kyle. “If he calls back, let me know, okay?”

“Otay!” your brother nods before running off to the kitchen, probably to have your mother speak into the play phone as well.

“Sorry,” Steve says as he grabs the flashcards again. “Some weirdo called wanting to replace Kyle as my best friend. Can you believe that?”

You look at your boyfriend in amusement as you shake your head. “How dare they.”

“Right?” he agrees before shuffling the cards three times.

You giggle at your boyfriend who, only mere seconds ago, was taking role playing on a play phone seriously with your two year old brother. This catches his attention and he looks over at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, “you’re just really good with kids is all.”

Steve shrugged. “I was lonely as a kid. Playing with Kyle is like playing with the sibling I never had.”

You smile and run your fingers through Steve’s hair. “You’ll make a great dad, Stevie.”

“Yeah?” The apples of his cheeks tint pink, “you think so?”

“I know so.”

The two of you look at each other fondly and Steve reaches over to grab your hand, rubbing small circles over it with his thumb.

However, the moment is interrupted by your mother hollering from the kitchen; “As much as I love you, hopefully we won’t find that out any time soon, right Steven?”

He pulls his hand away from yours and sits up straight, clearing his throat. “Right Mrs. Y/L/N! No kids until I graduate and get a well paying job!”

“Good!” your mother calls out, “I’m not trying to be a grandma right now.”

You choke on air when she says this and Steve starts to blush again.

“Moooooommm…”

“What? I’m just saying!”

You shake your head and Steve clears his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, ready for the next question?”

You nod. “I was born ready.”

Steve smiled at you as he pulled a card from the deck and began reading it. “Is condensed matter theory different from information theory? If so, ex-”

“Steeb!” your brother interrupts his question.

“Yeah little dude?” Steve’s attention is fully on the two year old now, flashcards completely forgotten once again.

“Call!” Kyle shouts, thrusting the play phone toward Steve.

“Did he call back?” he asks and your brother nods. “Gimme that,” Steve takes the phone and stands again, this time waving his hand around while he spoke. “I told you not to call me again! What do you not understand about me not wanting to be your best friend? I already have one! You know what-” he takes the play phone away from his ear and passes it to Kyle. “Here, he’s not listening to me. You talk to him.”

Kyle takes it out of Steve’s hand with a scowl and starts going on about how Steve is his best friend and to leave them alone or else while Steve threw in an occasional “yeah!” to support Kyle.

You giggle at the two of them as they continue to argue with the fake person over the play phone. You start to put your notes and flashcards away just as Kyle comes up to you with the play phone.

“For me?” you point to yourself. Kyle nods and you put the phone to your ear. “Hello?” You suddenly gasp and hand the phone back to your brother. “He said he’s gonna take me from you! That I’m gonna be his sister now!”

“No!” Kyle shouts, putting the play phone to his ear. “My sissy! Not yours!” He turns to Steve. “Steeb!”

“I got it,” he takes the phone. “Oh, so not only are you trying to steal me away from my best friend, now you’re trying to steal my girlfriend? I think not! Let me tell you something-”

Your mom watches the three of you play with the two-year-old and she can’t help but smile. Not only does Kyle have an amazing older sister, but he also has an amazing friend who would no doubt do anything for him. Your mother loves that Steve makes you and Kyle happy and hopes that he will stick around for years to come.

Little does she know, he does.

[zegrasdrysdale]

Hi! Could you do a Luke Hughes x reader where the reader still goes to UMich while Luke is in Jersey w/ Jack and she speculates he’s cheating on her? Angst with a happy ending, preferably? Thank you!

[ 604 miles ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : after seeing Luke on Jack’s private story, his girlfriend begins speculating that he’s doing more than just playing hockey

warning(s) : angst ! but w a happy ending. mentions of cheating. reader still goes to Umich

author’s note : oooh this is gonna be juicy

༺═──────────────═༻

She trusts Luke. She swear she does, but she can’t help but feel the little pull at her heart when she watches him in the background of Jack’s private story.

A bunch of their mutual Michigan friends started to text her while she was doing homework. Even fans on social media have been posting about it and tagging her in posts.

She was confused, then she opened Snapchat to see what they were talking about.

In one video, Jack’s drunk and dancing to some song that she doesn’t know. In the background, she sees her boyfriend sitting at a booth with some blonde at his side. He isn’t touching her, but she’s sitting too close to him.

In another video, Luke’s in the background dancing with that same girl. She notices the smile on Luke’s face when he faces the camera.

It brings tears to her eyes as she jumps to an immediate conclusion. She’s been right every time so far.

She truly thought he was different than the other hockey players she dated. They all cheated on her too, and Luke promised her over and over again that he would never do that to her.

Well, here he is. Probably cheating on her and Jack is posting it all over his private Snap story for all their mutual friends to see. It’s embarrassing for her.

It took months for Luke to break down the wall she built around her heart. They met halfway through their freshman year at Michigan. It wasn’t until the beginning of their sophomore year that they started dating.

With her sadness turning into anger and tears rolling down her hot face, she calls Luke. It keeps ringing. And ringing. So she calls one more time.

And gets his voicemail.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you have five minutes to call me back or you’re going to end up without a girlfriend,” she says into the phone. “I mean it. And you better have a damn good reason you’re dancing with some random blonde girl on Jack’s Snapchat.” Then she hits the end button and puts the phone on her desk with the screen up.

A minute passes and her phone doesn’t ring. She doesn’t get a text.

Two minutes pass and her fingers are itching to call him again. She wants to stay true to her word because if Luke has a good explanation as to why he’s with some blonde then he’ll call her back.

Four minutes pass from the call. She drafts a text to Jack that she’s going to send in a minute if her phone doesn’t ring.

‘ tell luke i’m going to send him his things that i have in my apartment and that i want mine back. i’m done. ’

After five minutes pass, she sends the text.

It’s not the first time that this has happened, and it’s the last. Not only is she done with Luke, she’s done with any hockey boys in general. Too many times has she gotten her heart broken because the relationship had to go long distance. Too many times has she had too much trust.

Two minutes after she sents Jack the text, her phone rings. Jack is calling her.

“I really don’t feel like explaining why-”

“What do you mean you’re done?” Luke interrupts before she can finish her sentence. “What did I do?”

Her jaw drops. “You can’t be serious, Luke,” she replies. “I saw you in the background of Jack’s snaps getting too comfortable with a blonde girl. Sitting with her and a smile on your face while dancing with her? You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.”

“That’s not- baby, she’s a friend,” Luke tries to defend. “Jack’s friend if I’m being honest. He was busy hanging out with Nico and Dawson so she came to sit with me. She dragged me out onto the dance floor and told me to dance. I told her I had a girlfriend and she still dragged me to the dance floor and got close to me. I didn’t try to do anything with her because I don’t want to.”

Tears sting her eyes. “I gave you a chance to explain yourself,” she tells him. “I called you twice before I texted Jack. It took me texting Jack before you called me from his phone. You told me you’d never break my heart but you did. I don’t trust you, Luke. I’ve been told that same story over and over again.”

Luke stays silent. She has to dry her own tears that have rolled down her cheeks. She has to cover her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sob that he hears.

She’s standing her ground. She’s protecting her heart. The 604 miles between them should be enough space and make it easier to move on.

“(Y/N), I would never cheat on you,” Luke tells her. She can hear the sincerity in his voice but she still doesn’t believe him.

“Luke, I can’t right now,” she softly says. She’s pretty sure he can’t even hear her because of how loud it is in the bar or wherever they are. “I’m sorry.”

Then she hangs up. She shuts her phone off and crawls into bed, completely forgetting about her homework. All she wants to do right now is wallow.

His words are just words. She knows what she saw. Right now, nothing that Luke can say to her will change her mind about being done.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s nearly two in the afternoon when she hears a knock on her off-campus apartment door. She hasn’t gotten up out of bed in nearly forty-eight hours except to use the bathroom. Her phone hasn’t been turned on since her talk with Luke the other day.

Someone is probably coming to check on her since she has fallen off the face of the Earth for the moment. That is the only reason why she drags herself out of bed to go answer the door.

When she swings open the door, it’s the last person she expects to be on her doorstep. He actually supposed to be in California right now. They have a game to play in a few hours in Anaheim.

Luke holds a single rose out for her and a little basket full of snacks is in his other hand. “I was going to get a whole bouquet for you but I forgot to grab one at the store,” he tells her. “If anyone asks, I did not pull this from the bed by the front door of the building.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to talk,” he replies. “You haven’t been replying to any of my texts or answering my calls. I told Lindy that I needed a few personal days and he told me that I can come back when I’m ready to. I didn’t want you to keep thinking that I was cheating on you or hurting you. That was never my intention.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the apartment. Luke is quick to follow her and shut the door behind her. “You can say what you have to say then you can get on a flight to Anaheim to play tonight,” she tells him as she sits on the couch in the living room.

He sets the basket of snacks on the coffee table in front of her and sets the rose next to it. Luke pulls out his phone and taps on it for a second. She’s about to say something when he shows her his screen.

It’s a picture of the blonde girl that was with Luke, but she’s all cuddled up with Jack. Jack looks happy and is looking at her like she’s the only person in the world. It was taken at the beginning of the night because she can tell that there is something behind Jack’s eyes.

“It’s Jack’s ‘friend’,” Luke assures her. “They’re together but aren’t telling people they’re together but they make it obvious that they are. The reason she was hanging out with me for a little bit was because she wanted to know how to tell Jack that she’s ready to publicly be together.”

She looks up at Luke behind the phone. “You couldn’t answer your phone and just tell me that?” she asks.

“I left it in the car,” he tells her. He taps on the screen a few more times and holds up a screenshot of his and Jack’s locations. They weren’t together, and it looks like Luke was right outside the building.

It’s all making sense to her. Her and her trust issues were wrong this time.

A pout forms on her lips at the same time tears form in her eyes. “You really weren’t lying to me,” she mumbles. Her voice is incredibly shaky.

“I told you that I would never break your heart,” Luke tells her. “Not intentionally. I definitely wouldn’t cheat on you. I know you’re past with that and no matter how upset I am with you, I wouldn’t resort to that. Unlike everyone else you’ve been with, I’m more willing to communicate. Hell, I took time away from the team to come make sure we were okay.”

One of the tears rolls down her cheeks and Luke uses the back of his pointer finger to wipe it away. She leans into his touch and looks at him. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she says. It comes out as more of a sob than actual words.

He moves closer to her and throws an arm over her shoulders. She curls up against him and Luke kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he assures her. “I know how you think so I gave you a little bit then came to talk to you. Just needed you to think with your head and not your past.”

She frowns and throws her legs over his lap. Luke holds her close.

“Do you want to go to Anaheim to play?” she asks as she looks up at him. “There’s enough time for you to make it for warmups.”

Luke shakes his head. “I think I want to spend a few days with you,” he replies. “I’m pretty sure they can handle a couple of games without me. I need a handful of days off where I don’t think about hockey. I haven’t been playing the best so a break sounds nice.”

“It’s your first season,” she tells him as she runs her fingers through his curls. “There is so much pressure on you because of your last name. You’re most likely feeling it without realizing it.”

He looks at his girlfriend. “I know,” he sighs. “Just give me a few days and I’ll head back to Jersey to play when they get back from the California trip.”

She leans forward and presses a long kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” she tells him. “I think you’ll grow into your NHL skates. You’ll have an insane season next season, or even for the last 20 something games of the season.”

“I love you too,” Luke replies. “Sorry I made you think I was cheating on you.”

“Got you to come see me so I guess I forgive you,” she teases.

It’s been a few weeks since Luke came to see her. They watched the All Star game together in the apartment. That was the last time they saw each other.

Luke gets comfortable on the couch. “Can we take a nap since we’re okay?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”

“Only if we move to the bed because you are too big to share a couch with.”

༺═──────────────═༻

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