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sweetpumpkinpieinwithcoffee · 30 days ago

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"I" - a letter to let go of an impossible crush

I think it is time for me to put in words what I have been feeling for this damned human being (read boy) for quite some months now. Like, it won't make it hurt less that he quite friendzoned (worst colleaguezoned) me a week ago but maybe I will learn to let it go once I'll have put it out of my chest (and he will never know anyway). "I". I refuse to write your full name here, probably because I refuse to imagine an alternative universe in which you end up finding this post, track me down and know the full story behind my weird smile and my absent stares. So "I" you will be. How convenient that in the English language it is also the letter to identify myself.

"I", I haven't known you for long and therefor it is complicated for me to fully understand how down bad I am for you. Because you see "I", I am down bad. Not down bad in the sense that I want to have sex every single day with you, more like, you have infiltrated all my thoughts, all my dreams and every seconds of my fucking life.

And yet, up to a certain point I fought it "I". Up to a certain point I was determined to hate you. I thought "this guy has been recommended by this dude I don't like so of course he's going to be the worst kind of person on Earth." But "I", I was wrong. Oh so damn wrong because you are quite literally the softest person I've met in a very long time. And I kinda hate you for deceiving me like that. How dare you being kind, and smart, and interesting? How dare you make me laugh and calling me out on my bullshit? Just how dare you sitting here listening to me with kind eyes and telling me how interesting I sound? How dare you remembering what I like and don't like to the point you will leave raspberries for me -my favourite- when you love them just as much?

Truth be told, four months ago I thought I will never be your friend, I would never engage with you and we were born to be work enemies (we already have talked about how quickly I make my mind on people and change it so you won't be offended by that).

Four months ago, I called you for the first time. I was so freaking nervous. You were one of the first person I had ever interviewed for a position within our company. I was pretty new myself in it, barely a month. And of course I had never, ever, hired anyone in my life. I remember I had written everything I had to tell you. But thank the Lord I ended up on your voicemail. I could just leave a message you would probably never listen to and move on with my life. But you listened to it, and you had the nerve to call me back, when I was in the fucking train, so fucking tired after touring new offices for our now boss. I was still soooooo nervous when you presented yourself, I think I chuckled at some point cuz your name sounded so weird out of your mouth and I thought that it was the case every times someone present itself for the first time. I remember asking you if I could called you back when I'll be at my place because talking from the train wasn't practical and I didn't had my notes with me. I remember YOU laughed at that. It was the first time I made you laugh. I remember thinking "he has a nice laugh" but not thinking much of it. How stupid of me. I remember calling you back not 30 minutes after. I remember holding a plushie because I was that scared of the whole process of recruiting someone. I remember thinking, with your resume in front of me, that you looked like a guy I could walk by and never think about again. I thought you looked like the part for the position. Another IT guy, fine, not my fancy but we needed one so I was going to find one. I remember making you laugh cuz I was struggling to find my words and how kind you were when I profusely excused myself about the whole situation. Honestly, look at us now and tell me you had thought I'd be a great colleague for you? Even, dare I say it, a friend? I don't know what we are right now to be honest. Everything is so fucked up in my head and I can't talk about all of this with you for obvious reasons.

In the end, you got the job and I started planning for your arrival. It was ok, I was doing fine. My life in the office was already Hell because I hated the place and our boss and my desk-neighbor. So I was fine, one more person I could despise in my head, it was fine. And then you arrived. From the starting point, something clicked. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was because you had already remembered we were living in the same neighborhood (kinda) and asked me about great places to visit. Maybe it was how you couldn't stand me always doing everyone's chores and how you make it a point to not leave me alone. Maybe it was the way you make it a point to keep talking to me even if I wasn't really responsive. So "I" I started liking you. Especially when you started talking about cinema.

"I", I think I never said it to your face and I probably never will, but you change entirely when you start talking about cinema. Your eyes become more focused, your words more precise, and yet you are so full of life. Your hands move a little more wildly, your speech speeds up, and sometimes it's hard for me to keep up with your thoughts. But it's beautiful to listen to you. I adore it. I don't have even 1% of your knowledge on the subject, yet you treat what I say as if it's interesting. I like how we disagree on small things, like how I can hate fiercely an actor or a actress just because I don't like their face, or how I won't watch a movie if someone I dislike is in it.

Anyway, this led to the first time I thought maybe I was seeing things in the way you were with me. The first time we talked about cinema, you kind of asked me to go to a movie with you right then and there (because I told you I missed going to the movie theater with my bestie). We hadn't even known each other for more than a day, and I was a bit taken aback. Who ask a colleague to go to the movies when they've known them for less than a day? Who does that? I didn't respond. I just acted like I hadn't heard you, and you let it go. In my head, it was perfect because, honestly, what the hell had just happened? Then the next day, while we were still talking about Paris and how much I love exploring it, you asked me if I ever wanted to explore it with you. Again, we'd known each other for less than a week- what was that? And once again the scared girl I am said nothing. "I", I want you to know that I regret it now.

I think things accelerated after that. I think I started noticing more and more signs. You were always talking to me at lunch break, and increasingly you got me to talk about what I was reading, what I was listening to. You asked about sewing and my passion for fashion. You listened to me ramble on about so many seemingly pointless things. And there were always those little comment you'd make: "I knew that if I could talk about this subject with someone, it would be you," "Ilove when you info dump, it's always on topics I can discuss with my parents," "I'm countin on you to give me all the gossip from the fashion world, and I'll teach you everything I know about geopolitics." I like that.

"I", I think the first time I thought "I like him" was when you looked me straight in the eyes and told me "I wish you weren't that hard with yourself. You deserve so much better." We were talking about our disastrous love lives and how we both had bad relationships in the past. I felt seen. You were hunching in your seat so you could talk to me eye to eye and I thought I would cry. I may have cried later, in another train, thinking, "fuck how can someone I barely know see me like that?". I kinda hated you for this. But I also remember telling my best friend "I think I like him".

From this point, it was inevitable for me that we were made to be friends. I started reaching out to you, started watching movies you would recommend, read stuffs you'd mentioned and we started talking about it. Exchanging our view on every piece of media we would consume. I remember thinking from time to time "I should have said yes to that first proposition for the movies."

Then faith intervened and we would always be on each others path. Even when we shouldn't have. You would show up on the train platform right before I would got on the train. You would show up the moment I would go on our tiny balcony at work. You would send me messages on Teams right when I was feeling the lowest. You would stay with me on lunch break even if you didn't had to. You were everywhere I go and I didn't even questioned it. It was just nice. Something a nice colleague would do.

Then the texts started. Truth be told it was my fault, I sent the first one. But truth be told you never stopped.

Or at least you did not up until a week ago.

It all started innocently, talking about a show you recommended and I had started to watch. It all started with me complaining about episodes during more than 1h. And you laughed and we talked. We talked up until midnight that day and you admitted the only reason you stopped responding was because you had fell asleep and you apologized.

From this moment we were always texting, always pushing back what was only professional. Now I stay far from my phone, turn the notifications off and hope no one will reach for me. I started taking note of patterns in your favorite subjects, so I started researching them to know what you were talking about and what I could add to the conversation. I love how you were teaching me stuffs without making me feel dumb. I love how you would take interest in my point of view.

Everything went even more quickly when I fired that dumb proposition. You hadn't watch the last episodes of this show and I asked if you wanted to watch it with me since you wanted to give me your thought on them. You said yes. I came to your place. I never told you how I love what you've made out of it. It is cosy, you can easily feel at ease in it.

You were so sick that night, I was kinda sorry for you. But we talked. A lot, beside watching the show of course. It was nice. I felt at ease with you. I was still debating with myself on what I was feeling. I went home and just was happy to have spent that time with you. You had taken my mind off of my current situation. I thanked you for it. You said we should do it again. At the end of the week, on a Friday, I asked you if you wanted to meet again. You were already taken but you asked if I was free the next Sunday after the charity event I was participating in. I said yes, sure. My only thought was having another chill night with you, just talking laughing and complaining about our generation and how cursed we are.

That's one of my favorite things about you. How easy you make everything feels. How I felt safe enough to tell you how bad it was at work for me that I was already considering quitting. I loved that you didn't judge and just offered me comfort and advices. I loved that you asked about what made me feel so awful there and how you asked if you could do anything to help. I loved how you laughed at my impersonation of our colleagues. I loved how you got pissed at how some were treating me and judging the way I dress. I loved how you went straight to my defense when I try to brush it off. I loved how your eyes drifted, from times to times, to my lips. How sometimes you would bump into me on purpose in the streets, even when no one was around us and there was no reason to bump into me. And gosh, does everyone knows how I can be shy when it comes to let someone touch me. I felt safe with you. I felt like when we were talking it was just us in the world. How everything faded and I could just concentrate on what you were saying. On your body language. On your laugh. On your eyes. They felt welcoming and always thinking, wondering, pondering. Occasionally drifting from my eyes to my lips. One time I caught you staring at me. For the briefest time but you did. I could feel your eyes on my body and it made me warm. Not like if I wanted to hide. It only happened once. Or I do not know about the others times.

On that fatal Sunday, I didn't went straight to your place after the event. I went to my family. It was a nice time. I was already in my head, thinking about the evening I would have with you. I told my favorite cousine that I thought, no, was sure, I had a crush on you. She was so happy for me. Three of my others friends already knew and where thinking that from what I was describing it was more than likely that you had one on me too. I tried to not think about it. I tried to not get my hopes up. How silly of me. I'm a lover girl, of course I already had fantasies about our first kiss and how we would hide it at work. How wonderful it would be to quit my job and have a life out of this office and talking about it with you. Of course I couldn't stop myself imagining how our lives could melt into one and the other and how we would go out, watch movies, read to each others even if we do not read the same kind of books, how we would recommend new medias to each others. Of course I had already planned in my head a future as cosy as your freaking place. Of course I had planned how sleeping next to you would be like constantly being in a dream. How warm you were and how I would feel always safe from the rest of the world.

Of course I had to checked if you were still on our plans. You were. But you had a question and my heart drop so low in my stomach I thought I was gonna puck right there.

See, "I", I've lied to you. And I'm starting to think I'm pretty good at it because you never caught me. I once told you I'm not good at acting or lying. Recent events proved me wrong. I lied. Outrageously.

You asked me if I was coming to your place for more than just watching the show. You didn't said for what more but it was pretty obvious. I lied there and then. An half lie if you want my point of view. I hadn't imagine anything more than watching that show and talking and laughing. Nothing more. Or not in the sexual sense of wanting more. Intimacy? Yes. Physically? I couldn't even imagine it. So I lied. I said I wasn't interested and I thought it was already embarrassing enough. But you shot me then. Back stabbed me and twist the knife to be sure I wouldn't get up. You told me you were seeing someone. It was pretty fresh. And you thought it wouldn't be a good idea for me to come if I wanted more because of it. I think I almost cried at this message.

You had never talked about her. Ever. I can almost remember all the conversations we had, the one on romantic relationships were pretty recurrent and we laughed about it cuz we were both not looking for anything, and we both had been single for quite some times now. And I thought you would have been happy to talk about something nice in your love life if someone had shown up. I thought you would have never paint me parallel lives where we had to share a flat, mixed our books, a life where clearly we were an item. I thought you wouldn't have sent me pictures of your day or told me you didn't wanted me to thought you didn't like talking to me over the phone or how you woke up thinking about not answering me the previous night and wanting to fix it right there and then, even on a Saturday morning. I thought you would never have told me all of that if there had been someone. And it kinda broke me.

It's with sadness in my very soul that I went to your place that night. With sadness that I asked you to tell me what made you think I could be interested because if caught I was I had to change what had sold me. You didn't really answer, you said "a vibe and I wanted to check because there is no other way to be sur" so I lied again. Saying I wasn't interested, that you weren't my type. When I don't even have a type. I fall for words, not for a particular type. And we "brush it off". I think if someone deserve a medal for acting it is I. I was on my best behavior that night. Acting like a friend, or an annoying little sister. But at least you laughed and we talked and it was nice.

Inside, I was dying.

I lied the next morning at work. I needed to protect myself from any kind of reputation or gossip. I lied and said I was with someone. I put his picture on my desk and grin all day. And your attitude toward me changed. When he would come up in the conversation, brought by our mutual colleagues, you would turned your back, ignore me. You started breaking all the rituals we had. You didn't waited for me on lunch break, didn't show up on the train platform anymore. Didn't text me. It was as if from one day to another nothing was ever the same and I couldn't ask you about it.

And I felt like my heart was sinking.

"I", I envy you. I envy you so much for not feeling as much as I do all the time. I envy you for being poised enough that you don't run your mouth dumbly. I envy you for your calm. I envy you because "I" you will never know how you hurt me.

In front of you, I will forever brush it of. But inside me? "I", know that looking you in the eyes is now the hardest thing I have to do. Every times it reminds me that soon you will be reunited with her and you will go on. She will be the one in this alternative life where you mix your books, where you read together, where you watch movies and talk about your separate work life. And I will have to watch it and be the supportive friend. Sorry, the supportive colleague. Because that is the truth isn't it?

I will never be for you anything else than that. A colleague. One who came and go in your life.

And maybe, "I", in a month or two we will not know each others anymore. But "I", know that you marked my life. Somehow.

You don't believe in love at first sight, you think any relationship, may it be a friendly or romantic one, is constructed. But I would stay certain of one thing "I". While maybe we aren't meant for each other, it was cursed at first sight, and I was doomed to fall.

So, I'm sorry for lying "I", it was my only way to not break in front of you.

#personal #Gaëlle's talk #“I”

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mealswildride · 1 year ago

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A Rant about Death, Gettysburg, and Observational Research

After losing dad, my friend came hundreds of miles to be present for the funeral. We went out to dinner afterwards, and once everyone was a couple of drinks in, he managed to talk me into attending the 160th Reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg with him.

This is something I'd NEVER do, but I accepted. Partly because of how much he went out of his way for me, partly because of simple peer pressure (I'd be called a bitch if I said no (Mama didn't raise no bitch) ), but a substantial part of it was, for me, this idea of the Quest. Especially as the weeks went by, as I finished school and returned home for the Summer only for my grief to grow worse, I think I marked the battle as this climax in my "James is sad'' arc, where, once I was up and over that hill, I would have completed this objective I arranged for myself at the lowest point of my life, and it would have, somehow, told my brain that I didn't have to be sad anymore.

The battle was on the hottest day of the Summer, on one of the hottest days of the Literally Ever, and the air stunk of campfire as the whole of Canada was, at the time, burning. I sweated my ass off, nearly fainted from dehydration, fell asleep in an officer's chair and, just by the good graces of a medic, didn't get pranked by the rest of my crew. Ultimately, while it's not my thing and I'd never do it again, I had a blast. I spent time with good friends I almost never see, saw a part of the country I’d never see if it wasn't for this, and gained a whole lot of respect for the guys who died to reunify the country. This being said, upon returning home a seasoned veteran, I felt no better than when I had left. Life returned to our new, miserable, "normal", and I isolated myself for the next few months until school resumed.

I bring this story up now because, frankly, I've been struggling with searching for sources of observational research for Capstone. That isn't to say I haven't found any. Everyone I've spoken to has been really moved by my ideas, and has had something I should watch, read, or play to suggest as a result. While I am appreciative of these, when it comes to words on paper every time I try to connect them to my project, I'm lying. I have to lie to say with a straight face that Red Dead Redemption 2 or The Good Place or Black Mirror, or basically anything apart from some Unity tutorials has actually influenced where I thought my project was going from Day 1. I want to talk about the things that influenced me at the start, but all that delivers is "I haven't done anything since the start of the semester". I’ve used all my other original inspirations to their fullest extent, with the only exception being Gettysburg. It has been something of six months now, and in the midst of exams (seems like we really only have two weeks between the end of my latest midterm and the start of my earliest final), I had forgotten entirely about it, and whenever I did think about it I didn’t think it related at all to my work.

This changed recently (tonight, as I write this), as I finally connected some other puzzle pieces that have made it make sense. In conversation with my Game Design instructor some weeks ago, he asked if I knew how the game I'm developing would end, which, at the time, I didn’t. We talked for a bit, which yielded the conclusion that the Emulation your character is trying to build disables itself once you find the last memory piece. This was based on the fact that the game is supposed to mirror my own thought process in discovering what preservation is actually about. It begins with this idea of restoring somebody through A.I., through a big metal box with their personality inside, a literal monument, a physical presence, but ends with the box lecturing you about how this emulation isn’t real, and how the way the person being emulated truly lives on is through the adventure you just endured, through the memory that bullshit, exhausting quest just created.

I did all of this without consciously thinking about the battle, but I think subconsciously, it was always there. The character you play as understands his quest to complete the Emulation as a means to end his sorrow. I thought of the battle that same way. The character undergoes a revelation at quest’s end that it wasn’t about some physical thing fixing their sense of loss, but rather using death as a means to spur on new, exciting things, to build new memories, to live on because the ones they loved were once there. Gettysburg didn’t fix me. Gettysburg was never going to fix me. But it was fun, and I never would have gone if I wasn’t at that funeral.

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faiirytalcs · 2 years ago

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dbldipper:

dipper, feeling a cocktail of panic and anger rising in his throat, threw his phone down on his bed after reading her text and let out a frustrated groan. his hands slid down his face and he started pacing even faster now, back and forth across his carpeted floor as he kept muttering expressions of panic under his breath. fuck, WHAT was her problem?? there was no shot in hell she actually lit it on fire. she was mad at him, FURIOUS even, but she would do that to him, right? years worth of notes and observations burnt to a crisp because they got into a petty argument? pacifica northwest wouldn’t go that low… she had to be bluffing. when he heard her stream resume, her voice coming over the speakers with some bullshit excuse for why she had to pause her stream, dipper stormed over to his laptop and slammed it shut; silencing her and the room which was now filled with nothing more than his panicked, sporadic breathing.

oh my god- she read it. she had to have read it. a pillow now found itself launching across the room and his fingers found themselves entangling into his hair as his groan became more of a frustrated growl. how could he be so fucking stupid? everything he had written in there… everything about her…. oh my GOD.

he. was. fucked.

dipper couldn’t wait. he grabbed his phone and his bag and flew out the door, calling out to mabel and cypher that he would be back later as he began the long walk over to pacifica’s apartment. his face was hot, his panic was infecting his lungs and making it hard to breathe, and his feet felt so heavy against the concrete sidewalk he swore it was starting to crack beneath him. he pulled out his phone, clammy and anxious hands beginning to write a text- despite her telling him not to.

fuck that- if she had actually burned it… she was about to experience a full blown mason dipper pines meltdown. dipper: i am coming over right now. dipper: i will literally sit outside your apartment until you are done streaming dipper: either we're talking or you're handing over my journal

It came as no surprise that the first thing to get Dipper even trying to talk to her again was that stupid fucking journal he’d forgotten at the diner. If he cared so much about it, maybe he shouldn’t have left it but regardless, Paz knew it was important and had grabbed it, making sure no one else got their hands on it. Maybe that was more than Dipper deserved after his little stunt but...she couldn’t help it. And she’d obviously read it. Obviously. He’d been so tongue in cheek about it that her curiosity would have imploded if she’d had the thing and not looked at it. Hearing her phone vibrate again, Paz didn't look at it as she started her stream back up but she had a feeling it was him losing his mind thinking about how she set his journal on fire. It had been a tempting thought but even she wouldn't take it that far. She wasn't completely out of her mind.

Whatever it was, she ignored it while playing through a brand new game demo, one of the few streamers to have access to it and she had to do it justice. That was the whole reason she got paid. Thankfully, it was a good enough game and she only had a few constructive things to say about it before finally logging off. Glancing at her phone, it'd been two hours and she had to wonder if Dipper was still sitting outside her apartment or if he'd given up like a sane person would have. It only took a quick look out of her bedroom window to get her answer. Fine, fine. If he was going to be a petulant child about this, she could be too. Taking her time, Pacifica put on one of her warmest jackets, checked her makeup in the mirror ( which still looked incredible from stream ) and slowly made her way downstairs - purposefully leaving the journal behind. Slowly opening her door, she gave him an unamused look, slender arms crossing. "You know, I could call the cops. You're being real fucking creepy."

#𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀 ft. dipper pines #𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 ;; pacifica northwest

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miekasa · 4 years ago

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slow hands

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genre and warnings: fluff, some angst? but hardly, levi is the sweetest, please do not mistake his quiet affections for apathy or lovelessness

+ word count: 3k

+ summary: based off of a request about physical affection and acts of service being levi’s love languages—which i agree! i’m so happy you asking about that, i could write essays about how physical touch is important to levi, but instead, i will leave you with this for now lol

i. in crowded spaces (so you don’t get lost, or so he claims)

Levi isn’t particularly fond of the way you like to go shopping in the inner walls. He is, however, fond of you; so he forgoes the prissy upper-class men and overall stingy aura of Wall Sina’s inhabitants just so you can get your favorite kind of bread and fruit.

Today, it seems like everyone and their mother wanted to visit the outdoor markets, despite the scheming merchants and obviously overpriced merchandise. From the crowd to the noise level, none of it is really up Levi’s alley; but he has to admit, watching people fail to successful haggle the price of eggs is immensely amusing to him.

What isn’t amusing is the way you keep stopping in the middle of the square, distracted by anything remotely shiny or with a pleasant smell you come across. Levi stops in his tracks, sensing a lack of your presence behind him; he turns around, and sure enough, you’re standing a few meters away, squinting at the price written above the basket of apples in front of you.

He sighs, trudging back to you, and watching from a step away as you scan over the fruit scrutinizingly. The merchant behind the stand does his best at selling you his product, boasting about how the fruit is fresh and hand-picked, and some other bullshit.

“These look good,” you muse to yourself, picking up a single, red apple in your palm for closer observation, “I could make a pie for the kids later.”

“Ah, pretty and she cooks, what a woman,” the bearded merchant smiles, adjusting his hat as he looks at you.

He only seems to notice Levi’s presence when he pushes forward just a little bit, looking at the apples, bored, then to the man, who speaks to him next, “Can I interest you in a basket, too, sir?”

Levi doesn’t respond with anything but a slight shake of his head, before looking back to you. You’re standing upright now, having placed your sample apple back with the rest, unfazed by Levi standing next to you; like you were completely unaware you’d left him in the first place.

He holds back a scoff. You can be so unaware of your surroundings at times, he honestly thinks it’s a miracle that you make it back from your missions alive. You’re also seemingly unaware of just how many inner wall pigs flirt with you, as you look completely oblivious to the advances of the merchant, who offers you two baskets for the price of one—the only caveat being that you allow him to take you on a date later that evening.

Levi lolls his head to the side, tired eyes gazing at the old man who tries to cut himself a bargain. He knows you’re prepared to give an overly polite and nonchalant response to wave the man off, but Levi doesn’t have time for your pleasantries today.

Quietly, he reaches for your free hand, lacing your fingers together firmly before pulling you away from the merchant and the stand.

“Levi!” you call for him, borderline whining, “I wasn’t actually going to agree to a date with him, but the apples—”

“There’s a stand a few streets over that Hange claims is better than anything she’s ever eaten,” Levi grumbles, questioning under his breath about where the hell the piece of shit men in the interior get their audacity from, “And you don’t need two baskets. One is enough.”

Levi doesn’t turn your way, so he misses the fond look in your eyes and the small curve to your lips. He does, however, feel the way you wrap your other arm around his, leaning into him gently as to not disturb your stride as you keep walking.

“But I want to have enough to make a pie for the kids, later,” you tell him, slowly rubbing your thumb against the fabric of his blazer.

Levi scoffs audibly this time. “You don’t have to make shit for them.”

“I don’t have to do shit for anyone,” you smile, “But they’re just kids, Levi. Besides, I know you like pie, too, you big baby.”

Levi doesn’t say anything at that, only choosing to flash you an unamused scowl, before pulling you down a smaller, less crowded street.

“Let’s just get the fucking apples and go home,” he says, decidedly, passing by a group of MPs sharing a flask, “I don’t know how much longer I can stay in the interior without snapping some pig’s head off.”

ii. during long meetings

Levi thinks that if Erwin weren’t Commander, he could probably make a living as a pastor with the way he preaches for hours on end.

It’s going on hour two of this long, drawn-out strategy meeting, and Levi knows that he’s not the only one about to lose his fucking marbles. Albeit, he’s much more composed than some other people around the table; he still wants to retire to his office for the evening. Even the mountain of paperwork waiting for him would be more entertaining than this.

Levi listens, admittedly a little more carefully, when you speak up, offering information about the layouts of a small town destroyed on your last expedition, where you’d lost a member of your own squad. Erwin nods, looking back down at his map to take your words into consideration.

Levi looks to his right where you’re seated, notices the guilt flash in your eyes as you think about your last failed expedition. It wasn’t your fault, and you know that; but he knows, more than anyone, how difficult it can be to lose one of your own soldiers.

Quietly, he lifts his teacup with his right hand, and places it down in front of you. He says nothing beyond an almost unnoticeable nod towards the cup once it’s within your reach, before looking back towards Erwin and Armin.

If anyone else seemed to notice his gesture, they don’t make it known. Except for Hange, of course, who flashes him a knowing grin before resuming her conversation.

Levi knows you’ve finished the tea when he feels your hand resting lightly atop his knee, tapping your index and middle fingers against his pants—a silent thank you. In the middle of his own conversation, he doesn’t turn to you or say much other than slipping his right hand on top of yours, loosely curling his fingers between the slits of yours.

His hand stays there for the rest of the meeting, his thumb rubbing slow, unidentifiable patterns into the skin on the back of your hand; an empty teacup, and a mutual gratitude between the two of you.

iii. when you’re working too hard (or for too long)

If not the gigantic humanoid monsters out to swallow you whole, the paperwork is probably the worst part about being a captain in the Survey Corps. Levi would know, having spent countless nights up reading proposals, approving plans, signing documents, filling out death certificates.

It can be grueling work, even if it is, essentially, reading and writing whilst being sat at a desk. And while, sometimes, he can admit that the paperwork is more bearable than his own nightmares; he knows that for you, it holds no such solace.

If anyone thought that Levi worked himself to the bone, they must not have met you. Your meticulous mannerisms and work ethic could almost make him seem sloppy by comparison. It’s not uncommon to find you training yourself or your cadets into the ground, theorizing with Hange and Erwin, or—Levi’s personal least favorite—hunched over your desk, eyes scanning away at stacks of ink-ridden papers.

You must be five or six hours in by now, if he’s calculated correctly. The last time he saw you was around midday, when he’d been watching you spar with Jean. It’s dark out now, the other cadets and soldiers having retired to their rooms for the evening after dinner.

“You’ll end up a hunchback if you keep this up,” he drawls upon entering your office. He watches as your head snaps up to him; he figured you hadn’t even heard him enter, seeing as you didn’t respond to his knocking. He wonders how it’s possible for you to be so aloof, yet so scrupulous all at once.

Embarrassed, more likely at your lack of awareness than his comment, you push yourself up a little bit, elbows on your desk and fingers crossed. “You’re not exactly one to talk, you know.”

Levi only hums at your jab, inching towards your desk. He likes the way your eyes track his movements as his proximity to you increases, stepping around your desk to stand behind your chair.

“Sit up,” he orders, voice soft yet firm.

He waits for you to straighten your back, but frowns when you scoot your chair closer to your desk after doing so. He takes it upon himself to move your chair back, ignoring the terrible squeaking of the wood scraping across the floor. Well, at least that was an indication that the floors were clean.

“I can’t write if I’m this far from my desk,” you complain, just as the palms of Levi’s hands make contact with your shoulders.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to write anything,” Levi replies, digging the heels of his hands into your shoulder muscles. This would work better with your shirt off, he muses to himself, but this would have to do.

You open your mouth to protest, but your words fall short on your tongue, an exhale of relief coming out instead as Levi continues to massage your shoulders. Levi can feel you melting into his actions, your body going slack and the knots in your muscles uncoiling themselves. He counts about five minutes in passing before he hears your breath calm, too; the shallow exhales of your overworked body replaced with deep inhalations and extended sighs.

He lightens his movements as his massage comes to and end. The palm of his left hand runs across your throat gently, allowing him to tuck his thumb and index finger under your chin, and tilt your head backwards for you to face him. Levi’s thumb pads against your jaw line as you look up at him, and him back at you.

Finally, he leans down, his lips making contact with your forehead for a gentle kiss, “You work too hard.”

“I learned from the best,” and just as gently, you reach your arm up and backwards, your palm clumsily finding its way to Levi’s hair, pulling him down, towards your lips this time, “You take such good care of me.”

“Obviously,” Levi mumbles, stealing another kiss between his words, “That’s my job, brat.”

iv. during dinner time

The Mess Hall is among Levi’s least favorite places, for obvious reasons; but he does enjoy sharing a meal with you, and ensuring that you’ve eaten a full serving to sustain yourself.

He can look past Hange and Nanaba’s overly enthusiastic conversations, despite sitting directly across each other, Erwin’s sloppy eating habits, and the overall rowdy atmosphere of the Mess Hall, as long as he has you beside him to numb the pain. Which is why he’s been exceptionally grumpy these past two weeks, as you’ve taken to sitting with some of the younger cadets during dinner time.

It’s not unusual and it doesn’t surprise him, or anyone really; everyone can see how much they all adore you. Especially Mikasa, strangely enough. Probably because of the way you treat Eren, and how much he and Armin look up to you; and probably because she was your first pick to fill a vacancy in your squad.

He walks with you across the floor, the both of you holding your own tray of food—a watery soup, some bread, and a piece of fruit as a treat. He knows you won’t finish your soup, and that he’ll have to give you half of his bread to make up for it; but he also knows you’ll slice up your apple for him to eat in exchange.

So Levi is not too happy when he sees Eren waving your way, the clumsy idiot almost hitting Armin in the head from the uncoordinated shaking of his hand. You smile at the younger boy, turning your body to walk towards his table.

Levi, however, stops your stride before it can begin, pulling tactfully at the back of your shirt, and forcing you to turn back around. He pokes at the nape of your neck, gently pushing you forwards, and in the direction of the table where Erwin, Hange, Mike and Moblit are seated.

You seem to get his silent message, flashing Levi a sweet smile before turning to offer Eren a sorry glance as you continue to head in the direction of the table with your colleagues. Levi hums when you start walking again, following closely behind you, and turning back to offer Eren a not-so-sorry, not-so-friendly glare.

Levi was getting his apple sliced for him today, whether the brats liked it or not.

“You know, you should sit with them sometime,” you tell him, breaking his small loaf in half to dip it into your soup, “They admire you a lot.”

“I think they’d shit their pants if shorty even came near their table,” Hange jokes, earning chuckles from some of your colleagues.

Levi says nothing and refrains from rolling his eyes. He could care less about the admiration they hold for him, or for you. If Eren and Amin wanted to spend time with you that badly, then they should train their asses off and make it onto your squad.

“Oi,” you call to him, mocking his voice and tone, “Here, they gave us yellow ones today, I know they’re your favorite.”

Levi shoves you with his elbow affectionately, before taking the slice of apple from your hold. He chews gratefully, heart beating against his chest in admiration as you carefully place the rest of the slices on his tray.

He squeezes your thigh in thanks under the table once you’ve finished slicing both apples for him. Sure, he could do it himself, and sure he could technically see you in your room whenever he wants, but that’s not the point; Levi will be damned if he catches any of those other brats with his apple slices.

v. when you come home

It’s not often that Levi becomes overly worried about your well-being, as backwards and apathetic as it may seem to other people. He trusts you, and knows that you’re stronger than you look—stronger than him, even—and he has no reason to doubt you; you’ve always come back to him.

But now, it’s going on eleven days since your squad was supposed to return from specially designed and assigned mission from Erwin himself, and Levi was beginning to let his nerves get the best of him.

He knows he’s not the only one getting antsy for some kind of message—any kind of sign at all—that you and your men were okay. Two days ago, Hange had pestered Erwin for the greater part of an hour about sending just one more tracking squad to look for yours; Mikasa and Armin hovered around for any news that you had returned, and that you’d brought Eren back unharmed; hell, even Mike had come to check in with him, rocking on his feet, asking Levi if there had been any news from you.

It’s dark out now, the day coming to a close, marking the twelfth night since your estimated return date. Levi sighs, untucking himself from his desk, intent on marching down to Erwin’s office and demanding he let him go look for you.

“You know we have to give it fourteen days, at least,” Erwin sighs.

“That’s a bullshit rule and you know it,” Hange interjects, having burst into the room only seconds after Levi; hung up on your lack of return just as much as he was.

Of course she is—you’re Hange’s closest friend. Not to mention, you’d taken Moblit with you on your mission, setting Hange’s work back significantly without the presence of her valuable second.

“I know,” Erwin nods, “But the first tracking squad found no evidence of any bodies. They’re most likely alive.”

“All of them?” Hange questions, incredulous and hopeful.

“That’s what we hope for,” Erwin responds, voice heavy. He looks to Levi, “She’ll come back. She always does.”

Levi knows that; he knows. But he still can’t shake this feeling. He opens his mouth to refute, when Sasha comes bumbling into Erwin’s office, heaving.

“Commander Erwin, Captain (Y/N)’s squad has just returned!” Sasha squeaks, “No casualties, four in the infirmary now with minor wounds, but nobody’s in critical condition, sir.”

Levi can barely register the young girl’s words, before he’s storming towards the infirmary, desperately searching for your familiar face amongst the soldiers in the cots. He sees Moblit amongst some of your other men and hastily asks him about your whereabouts.

“She had Eren,” Moblit tells him calmly, wincing slightly as a nurse rubs alcohol into the cut along his arm, “I thought she’d take him here—maybe in one of the smaller rooms across the hall?”

Levi nods, grateful, and moves so that Hange can squish Moblit with her affections, heading towards the hallway. He sees just a sliver of light coming from a room two doors down, and he doesn’t hesitate to search for you there.

He all but bursts through the door, relieved to find you tying and cutting a bandage around Eren’s forehead. Levi wants to scold you for taking care of someone else wounds before attending to your own, but he doesn’t have time for that right now.

You stand up straight after you’re finished wrapping Eren’s larger cuts, with barely enough time to register that Levi’s entered the room before he has one hand around your waist, and the other cradling the back of your head.

Levi can feel that he’s knocked the wind out of you, but that doesn’t stop you from slowly wrapping your arms around him to complete the hug. He tucks his head into the juncture of your neck, ignoring the faint scrapes along your skin.

“You’re back,” he hums, holding you a little tighter against him.

Levi feels your laughter reverberate through his own body, as you mirror his hold on you; your right hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, your fingers loosely coiling into his hair.

“Of course I am,” you hum, reveling in Levi’s shallow breaths that tickle your neck, “I’ll always come back to you, Levi.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part One (Harry Styles)

a/n: oh my god i am sooo thankful for the love the masterlist got with just so little info about the story! it means so much to me and i really hope i won’t disappoint you with this story! i was planning to post the first part on tuesday but i got excited bc of all the feedback and reactions and decided to start earlier, so here it is, part one of TLABL, a story im kind of proud of and very happy to share! please drop by my ask box or leave your thoughts on the story, i would love to hear everything from you guys!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

“I hope you realize this holds nothing against you, we all love and appreciate you and your work, but we had to face some unexpected problems this past year.”

You sit in front of Claire, your boss completely dumbfounded, not even comprehending what she is saying completely. You came to work this morning absolutely oblivious that today is going to be your last day of work at the daycare you’ve been working at for over two years now.

“I’m sorry, but last time you let us in on the budget you didn’t bring up any complication that might have indicated someone could lose their job, so what possible problem could have come up so abruptly?” you ask with a shocked and nervous chuckle. Part of you kind of hopes this is just some stupid joke she is playing on you, but Claire is not one to make games out of such serious things. Letting out a tired sigh she pushes her reading glasses up to the top of her head into her carefully curled hair.

“Look, I’m really trying not to make a big deal out of it, but we had to make some cuts on the budget. The kitchen and gymnasium renovation was completely unplanned and it kicked us in the butt. We are making some changes about the groups this year and it was made that it can be solved with one less person on the team. I’m sorry it had to be you, but the decision had to be made.”

“But why me?” you press. “There are two people who have been working for a shorter period of time here, didn’t I earn your trust during my time here?”

“It’s not about that, Y/N,” Claire shakes her head.

“Then what is this about?”

“If you are so keen on knowing, we’ve… received a few… complaints.” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, this is the first time you’re hearing about it.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Some parents are not quite the fan of the kind of mentality you are using while teaching the kids.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling all the blood rushing out of your face. This is starting to get way too nasty. Claire pinches the bridge of her nose before leaning onto her desk, clasping her hands together.

“I know that you are quite the free spirit and want to teach the kids about openness and acceptance, but not everyone is as rainbow as you are. Some kids brought the word home about what kind of books you’ve been reading and we’ve gotten a few concerns about you basically promoting the LGBTQ community for the kids.”

“I’m not promoting, I’m trying to teach them to accept everyone just the way they are, how can that upset anyone?!”

“Well, it does. The committee had to make a decision on who we should let go and many agreed that it might be the safest decision to make it be… you.”

You’re about to faint. You are sure you are about to fall off this chair and just black out. How can someone get mad about you reading stories about acceptance and treating everyone equally? What kind of monster can see it as a bad thing? And now you are losing your job over such a stupid thing that you don’t even feel responsible for.

Though you’d love to stay and try to convince Claire to not let you go, you know the decision has been made and if you’re being honest, you don’t feel comfortable anymore working at a place where parents tell you off for teaching important values for their kids. Sadly, but you sign all paperwork about your immediate parting and you leave Claire’s office to pack your stuff.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Izzy, one of the sweetest girls in your group basically launches herself at you, smashing against your legs as she hugs you happily. “Do you want to see what I just painted?” She blinks up at you with her gorgeous green eyes and your heart breaks that you won’t get to see her again.

“Oh, Sweetie. I have to—you know what? Sure. Show me your painting,” you smile at her warmly. You can’t say no to her, not when this is the last time you get to see her.

As you’re cleaning out your locker in the break room, Heather walks in and stops in her tracks, seeing you with your gloomy face as you pack everything into a cardboard box.

“What the hell are you doing?” she questions right away. The two of you have known each other for years now, you did the same master’s programme and somehow ended up working here together, carrying on the friendship you’ve formed through your school years.

“I was… fired,” you sigh, wincing at the words.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently, we are having some budget problems with all the renovations that was made recently and unbeknownst to me, some parents have been complaining about my openness with kids so I was the lucky one to part ways with.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! The kids adore you, how can someone complain about something like that?”

“Don’t know, ask them if you ever find out who they are,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the now empty locker closed. “I’m sorry we can’t carpool anymore,” you pout at her.

“No fucks given about that, what are you gonna do now?” she asks, seemingly very bummed at the news that you won’t be working at the same place now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess I’ll have to find something new if I don’t want to end up on the streets,” you mumble.

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry,” Heather sighs pulling you into a hug. “Why don’t we go out for drinks on Friday? Everything is on me!”

“Don’t act like I’m already broke, makes me feel like a loser.”

“Sorry,” she scowls. “Just want to brighten you up a little. Meet me at seven at that Mexican place, how does that sound?”

“Stuffing my face with nachos and tequila? Sounds like the best plan I could wish for.”

You waste no time arriving home after your worst day at work. You jump right into the job ads, looking for basically anything that might help you out of this impossible situation. Sending your resume to as many places as possible, you get a few callbacks the next few days, but you only make it to one interview on Friday and that doesn’t go well either. The man who calls in for an open position at a private kindergarten turns out to be a total snob and he doesn’t find your free spirit too fitting with the profile of his institution so you get rejected at the end of the interview.

You head out to meet Heather feeling like shit. You’ve been unemployed for four days, but it’s already breaking your spirits.

“You know what? Clair is a bitch for giving in to the complaints,” Heather slams her fourth shot glass on the table with a grimace. “She should have defended you!”

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to get into any disagreement. Some of the parents donate great amounts to the school and Claire would never risk losing that money,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, but she is being very… not inclusive,” she narrows her eyes. “Firing someone for teaching the kids openness? Bullshit.”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to see the kids anymore. They really grew close to my heart.”

“The little fuckers can be so damn cute, almost make me want to have one.” Heather sighs, downing another shot before pulling the nachos closer to her. You laugh at her vulgar reaction, she has always had quite a dirty mouth but somehow she controls herself well around the kids. “How has the job hunting been?”

“Horrible,” you growl in frustration. There are not many that offer a good paycheck and the few that does are these posh places that expect you to treat the kids like they are made out of gold which is ridiculous. That’s not how you raise a kid!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure something will come up soon. Why don’t you look into nanny jobs, have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, popping some chips into your mouth.

“A lot of people prefer having nannies for their little children, some even want them to move in. My brother’s ex-girlfriend was a live-in nanny for about two years and she earned a shit ton of money, because she didn’t have to pay rent and a good chunk of the food, because the parents just treated her like part of the family and bought groceries for five people instead of four.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of stuff.”

“What, earning money?” Heather scoffs.

“No, living with a stranger.”

“Most of the time the nanny gets like a separated place so it wouldn’t be that bad, but you know what’s good for you. It was just an idea,” she shrugs.

Soon enough you drop any work talk not wanting to ruin the mood. You enjoy some time away from the stress of job hunting and you’re just trying to have fun with your best friend. You start talking about nostalgic memories from college and end up looking up people you graduated with on social media, checking out what they’ve been up to in the past years.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the restroom quickly, watch out for my drink,” you announce pushing your drink closer to Heather as you head towards the restrooms.

There’s a bit of a line so you stand behind two girls chatting about some cute guy they just met and leaning against the wall you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the drinks hitting you in the head. You’re not used to drinking, haven’t really had the time to get drunk too much lately and it’s saddening to think that now that you’re unemployed, you could black out every day, you wouldn’t have anywhere to show up in the morning.

Getting deep in your thoughts you almost don’t even notice that your phone is buzzing in your pocket. When you finally realize you pull it out of your back pocket and look down at the unknown number with a scowl. You quickly leave your spot in the line and rush out to hear something as you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time, I’m Harry Styles and I’m looking to talk to Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear a thick British accent on the other end of the line.

“This is her.”

“Great. Sorry for the late call, I’m Isabelle’s father.”

“Isabelle?” you ask in confusion, the names not really clicking in your head thanks to the shots you’ve been taking.

“Isabelle Styles? Izzy?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yeah. Mr. Styles, what can I help you with?” you ask, not sure why Izzy’s dad would be calling you.

“Well I just recently learned from my daughter that you’re not working at the daycare any longer?” “Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I was fired this Monday…” you awkwardly answer.

“I’m sorry about that. Izzy has been really sad about it, I wanted to ask if you’ve found a new job already?”

“Not yet, I’ve been looking but I haven’t had much luck yet,” you confess.

“In that case I have an offer to make,” he firmly continues and you perk up at his words. “I’ve been thinking about pulling Izzy out of daycare, but I didn’t want to do it until I found someone to take good care of her. You’ve been her absolute favorite and she’s been devastated since you’ve been gone. If you’re up for a job of this kind, I would like to offer you a spot as Izzy’s nanny.”

“Oh!” is all you react, completely not expecting this call.

“I know there are a lot to discuss, but if you’re interested, I would be more than happy to have a chat with you sometime this weekend? To go over the details and see if we can make it work.”

“I, uh… Um, yeah. We can meet, that sounds good. When would it be good for you?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“That can work.”

“Amazing!” he beams. “I’ll send you the address through text if that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course. When should I be there?”

“Would three o’clock suit you?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stunned at the turn of events.

“Great, thank you so much, and once again, sorry to bother you on your Friday evening. Looking forward to see you tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, see you soon!”

You get back in line at the bathroom and then make your way back to the table where Heather gives you a puzzled look.

“Did you take a massive shit or something?” she jokes as you take your seat and stare back at her, still in shock.

“No, I had a very interesting call, actually.”

“With who?”

“Um, Izzy Styles’ dad just called and offered me a job as her nanny.”

Heather almost chokes on her drink, coughing at the news. You hand her a napkin as she dries her chin off from her cocktail.

“Harry Styles wants you to be the nanny of his daughter?” she gasps.

“You know Izzy’s dad?”

“Y/N, everyone knows him! He is the sexiest man to walk this planet and not to mention that he is like stupidly rich! Have you not seen him yet?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Izzy was picked up by an old woman most of the times, I guess I never worked when her dad came for her.”

“That explains why you’re not squirming already,” she scoffs. “That man is like… crazy hot, I’m telling you. I bumped into him one morning when I guess he was dropping Izzy off, the way he said ‘Pardon me, Darling’ made my knees shake,” she tells you, faking an accent that’s nowhere near what Mr. Styles sounded like on the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll see him for myself. I’m meeting him tomorrow to discuss details,” you shrug and Heather slams her hand on the table.

“Oh my God! You’re gonna work for Harry Fucking Styles! Get ready because your panties will be soaking wet all the time,” she laughs like a hyena.

“Heather, stop!” you shake your head laughing too.

Following Mr. Styles’ call you decide to cut the night shorter than you intended, not wanting to look absolutely wasted when you meet him. Arriving home to your small, one bedroom apartment you take a quick shower before climbing to bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. You told Heather you’re not willing to do the whole live-in nanny thing and Mr. Styles might not even want you to live with them, but now that the option is there, you realize it might not be the worst case scenario. Especially since you’re not really swimming in other job offers and you are in desperate need of anything at this point.

Despite having consumed quite some alcohol the previous night, you wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning, finding a text from Mr. Styles about the address you’d have to be going in the afternoon. You make a quick trip to the grocery store and do some chores before you start getting ready for the meeting. You opt for a simple black dress that reaches your knees and pair it with a little funkier, flower printed blazer to bring some color into the outfit.

Punching the address into the GPS you see that it’s taking you to the outer skirt of the city to the neighborhood that’s known to have some quite luxurious estates and you immediately think back to what Heather said about him being ridiculously rich. Driving down the streets in your old Volkswagen you couldn’t stand out more at a place where at least three cars park on the driveways and one of them is a Ferrari or a Porsche.

There’s a massive security gate under the address that’s your destination and it’s left open so you can pull up to the driveway easily. You park next to a fucking Tesla, finding it extremely funny to see your car next to it, but it is what it is. Walking up to the front door you ring the bell as you take a look at the house that can easily considered to be a mansion. Guessing from the outside there are at least about five bedrooms in it and you can only imagine what other luxurious units are squeezed into it.

Soon enough the front door opens and you find yourself staring back at a breathtakingly gorgeous man, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black suit pants, his chocolate curls falling to his forehead as his emerald eyes fall on you, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

Shit. Heather was fucking right, you think to yourself swallowing hard.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s so nice to see you. I’m Harry, Izzy’s dad, come on in!” he invites you inside before a short handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, just call me Harry. I don’t like formalities at home,” he asks you as the two of you walk further inside until you arrive to what looks like a living room, but it’s actually the size of your apartment.

“Only if you call me Y/N,” you smile at him and he nods right away.

“Miss Y/N!” you hear a small voice call out and turning around you see Izzy running down the hallway until she throws herself against your legs.

“Oh, hello Sunshine!” you hum, squatting down so you can hug her.

“I missed you!” she pouts, rubbing her eyes.

“I missed you too,” you smile at her, caressing her soft cheeks before standing up. An older lady walks in, the one you’ve seen picking up Izzy. She approaches you with a friendly smile as she extends a hand towards you.

“Hi, I’m Ruth, it’s nice to meet you.” “Y/N, nice to meet you too.”

“Ruth, would you take Izzy outside while I talk to Miss—erm, Y/N here?” Harry requests. Ruth nods and taking Izzy’s hand she lures her outside to look for ladybugs in the backyard and that immediately catches her attention. The two of them leave through the sliding door, giving you and Harry privacy.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures towards the sectional couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits in an armchair across you.

The interior of the house is quite cozy, kind of modern with a hint of vintage touches that make it less rigid, a pop of color showing at most corners so it’s not too monochrome. You quite like it.

“Y/N, I once again apologize for calling you at such an inappropriate hour, but I often work late and I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible upon hearing the news.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Isabelle mentioned it to me on Thursday that the other workers told her you no longer work at the daycare so I asked around a little yesterday and was informed that they let you go earlier in the week.”

“It was quite sudden for me as well,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a little anxious to talk about it.

“I know it’s not too appropriate, but I asked why they chose you to part ways with and I have to say it’s outraging that some parents are so ignorant and wayward. I’m really sorry this had to be the reason out of everything.”

“Thank you.” It actually feels nice that he thinks the same, this whole firing was ridiculous and you were losing hope in humanity, but Harry is now very much restoring it.

“Let me walk you through what the situation is here and what I was thinking about.” You nod and listen carefully. “I’m president of a record label and it consumes most of my time, I sometimes work sixty hours a week which I know is not ideal and healthy and I’m trying to change it, but it’s not an easy situation. I thought that putting Izzy into daycare was a good idea, but it’s been getting harder to work around her schedule as a single parent with so much work on my hands. Ruth is a family friend who has been helping tremendously with Izzy, but she is not getting any younger and she would like to retire fully and spend more time with her own grandkids. So I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny for Izzy and try to make her days work around mine while I’m able to do that. She is going to start preschool in little over a year and I want to spend as much time with her as possible, but it’s not easy when the schedule depends on an institution. When she told me about your firing I had the thought that you might be interested in taking the spot as her nanny. She is obsessed with you, wouldn’t stop talking about what you do every day, and I might have also looked into your professional background. I like what I’ve seen and I’m very much into the way you’ve been dealing with the kids at the daycare. Openness is really important and I want Izzy to grow up in an environment that teaches her about being equal and supportive towards each other. I would be more than happy if you’d be the one taking care of Izzy while I’m not available.”

To say the east you’re stunned at how forward and open he was about the offer and his compliment about your professional background is quite flattering. You can tell he is doing an amazing job at raising Izzy as an open and accepting human, she was always one of the nicest and sweetest kids who always made sure to include all her peers in the games you played. And it’s obvious Harry is not just being a hypocrite, his tattooed arm, painted nails and ring clad fingers are not quite what you’d traditionally imagine a man like him wear, but he does it well and clearly doesn’t give a fuck what others might think about it.

Harry continues with how much he thought you’d be earning for the job and you almost choke on your own saliva. It’s almost three times as much as you’ve been earning at the daycare and you’d be able to save a good chunk every month which is quite amazing.

“I have to ask, were you thinking about a situation where I live with you or I’d have to be coming here every day?”

“Well, essentially it would be the easiest for everyone if you moved in. I have plenty of rooms you could choose from and you’d have access to everything else as well, of course, including the home gym, the pool, the sauna and the entertainment room. But I understand if you are not willing to make that commitment. If you choose to live here you wouldn’t be charged anything, naturally.”

This actually sounds like a dream, moving into this luxury mansion from your cramped little apartment and being able to save the money you’ve been paying on rent.

“And what would be the time management? If I moved in it would easily make me fall into a habit of always working, which is not quite ideal,” you point it out.

“Of course,” he nods. “I like to take care of her morning routine so you’d have to start around nine when I leave to the office. If we can make this deal working I’d like her to start taking some extra classes during the day, moving her activities earlier in the day so her afternoons would be free. She takes piano lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays, a swimming instructor comes here on Thursdays and she is taking French lessons every Tuesday and Friday. Everything takes place here, I would reschedule her activities to take place between nine and twelve. You wouldn’t have to worry about her during those times. You’d cover lunch time and then the afternoons. I try to get home between four and six and just work from home if it’s possible so I can be around her. You’d have to only help out whenever I can’t make it home in time I have urgent works that have to be done from home. We could have dinner time together and then her night time routine is my duty again. Ruth is willing to help me out on Saturdays and I spend Sundays with her strictly without any work distraction so you’d have the weekends off unless something comes up. In those cases I would check in with you beforehand and arrange it however it works best for you.”

You’re speechless for a moment. What he just shared doesn’t seem too bad, you might have to work a lot more, but being one on one with just one kid is much easier than dealing with fifteen of them at once. Not to mention that the money is still amazing compared to what you’d have to be doing.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s an amazing offer. Izzy is such a sweet girl, I would be more than happy to take care of her.”

Harry smiles at you warmly, clearly proud of his daughter, as he should be.

“Can I ask for some time to think about it? It would be a huge commitment.” “Of course. Take your time and let me know whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you.”

Harry offers a quick tour in the house regardless, the kitchen is massive, they have a nice dining area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the green slopes of the backyard that seems to be Izzy’s kingdom. She has a playhouse that could almost function as a real one, the pool is filled with floaties for her and she has her own playground further in the back with slides, monkey bars and a swing set. Your assumptions were almost right about the number of bedrooms. Beside Harry’s master and Izzy’s own room there’s one that’s been used by Ruth, one that’s for Harry’s mother and sister for whenever they are staying over and there are three additional rooms now serving as guest bedrooms, one of those would be turned into your room if you chose to move in. The gym seems better than the one you’ve been going whenever you felt like being a little active, the entertainment room has everything you could ever think about for a room this sort of and the sauna is already calling your name. Living and working here might actually feel like a vacation.

“Miss Y/N! Look what I found!” Izzy runs up to you when you and Harry step out to the backyard, holding her pointing finger up. A ladybug is wandering around her tiny finger, not even bothering with the amazed girl that’s inspecting it.

“Wow! How many dots do you see on it?” you ask and she knits her eyebrows together, counting the black dots.

“Five!”

“Yes, good job!” you ruffle her curls as she smiles up at you proudly. She really is an angel, you’ve grown to like her a lot and you would be lying if you said you didn’t get emotional over thinking about never seeing her again. Being able to take care of her and give her the best possible childhood would be such a dream and the chance to do that is right in front of you.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Y/N,” Harry smiles at you walking you towards the front door.

“Harry, I don’t think you need to do that,” you speak up and see his face fall, he obviously took it the wrong way, thinking that you want to say no to his offer.

“Oh…”

“It’s not that,” you chuckle softly. “I would love to take the job. And if you’re still okay with that, I’d like to move in, it would make everything just so much easier.”

You watch as his expression changes from disappointed to hopeful as he cracks a smile nodding.

“Yeah, the offer is still there. When do you think you can start?”

“How soon do you want to pull Izzy out of daycare?”

“As soon as possible. If I have to I can go in on Monday and do all the paperwork. You could move in sometime during the week maybe?”

“I have to talk to my landlord about my lease, but I’m fine with moving in during the week,” you nod smiling and you can’t help but feel excited.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You discuss a few more details and then you head out, thinking about how the next time you’ll be coming here, you’ll be moving in.

“If this one doesn’t go to the donate box, I’m leaving right now.”

Heather holds up a pair of denim shorts, painted in the colors of the flag of the States. She holds it pinched between her index finger and thumb as if it was something nasty and disgusting

“You know I only bought that for that stupid frat party. I never wore that anywhere else, so you can put it into the donate box.”

“Thank God!” she groans and throws the shorts into said box.

It’s Sunday evening and your place looks like a warzone, boxes taking up the place everywhere as you’re packing your life up to officially move into the Styles mansion. You agreed with Harry to bring over a good chunk of your stuff on Monday and then settle in for real on Tuesday. He is pulling Izzy out of daycare first thing on Monday and you’d stay at home with her for the first time on Wednesday. It’s been a fast paced change, but you couldn’t care less. With the amount Harry is gonna pay you, you’ll be able to save up a good chunk every month, like you always wanted to.

As you finish putting your books away you reach the shelves that contain all your photo albums. Photography has been your passion for a long time. It started as a simple hobby sometime through your freshman year in high school, but in senior year, your photos filled the yearbook and you even did the design of it too. You’ve had a few gigs since then, some weddings and pregnancy shoots and you like to sell your photos individually as well. You wouldn’t have imagined how much a simple nature photo costs.

Flipping through the one on the top, you can’t help the bitter smile on your face as you see the photos from your brother’s 14th birthday three years ago. There are tons of family pictures with you, your brother Trevor and your parents, seemingly being all happy and joyful. Things were different back then and you didn’t see anything coming.

It’s past midnight by the time you more or less finish packing, you’ve filled three big boxes with things to donate so you have significantly less stuff to move to the Styles mansion in the morning. Heather spends the night, but leaves early in the morning since she needs to go to work. The moving van you rented out arrives a little after eleven and the two guys from the moving company helps you load it with about two thirds of your stuff. Harry is at work when you arrive and Izzy is still at the daycare, Ruth is the only one at home, she helps you out even though you tell her not to break a sweat over it.

“Let me help, makes me feel needed,” she chuckles sweetly when you try to get her to stop, but she insists on bringing in some smaller bags and boxes.

You’re still unpacking when Ruth arrives back with Izzy a little after four. You hear her little feet tapping against the floor as she runs down the hallway, bursting into your future room.

“Miss Y/N! You’re here!” she cheers, throwing herself into your arms as you sit on the floor, being the perfect level for the little girl.

“I am! How was your day, little Sunshine?”

“We finger painted and I made a painting for daddy, do you want to see it?”

“Of course!”

Izzy disappears to get her backpack from Ruth who is making her some snacks in the kitchen. She soon returns with her painting, presenting it to you proudly.

“Look! This is me and this is daddy!” she points at the two human-like figures, the only thing giving away who is who is that one of them is bigger than the other one. “And then this is mommy!” she then adds, pointing at a star in the upper corner of the painting and you freeze.

In the midst of everything, you didn’t even have the time to question why Harry is a single parent. To be honest your first guess would have been divorce, but Izzy’s painting is telling you something a lot more tragic.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile at her, trying to hide your surprise at the new information. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Ruth makes sure Izzy is busy while you finish up unpacking and when you’re about to be done, Harry arrives home. Approaching your room even though the door is open he knocks on the doorframe, catching your attention.

“Hello, just wanted to see how things are going. Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the boxes and all…”

“Hi! Oh don’t worry about that, I had plenty of help,” you shrug smiling. “Everything is going fine, thank you.”

“Great. I did all the paperwork today, tomorrow is going to be Izzy’s last day at daycare. You’re still up to start on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I only have a few things left at home so I’ll be all set by tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” he smiles warmly. “And thank you for being so quick about everything. It means a lot to me that I can spend more time with Izzy thanks to you. I really appreciate it.”

“I should be thanking you the opportunity. I wasn’t really drowning in the job offers,” you chuckle making him smile as well. “Please let me know if you want me to change anything, I have a plan I would like to go around with Izzy’s days, but of course, your word is the most important.”

“I trust you to take good care of her during the day. The only thing I want is to have her home when I get home. Ruth couldn’t always pick her up before and I really hated to do the extra trip and pick her up from daycare instead of coming straight home to be with her.”

“Understandable. I’ll make sure to plan accordingly,” you nod smiling.

“Y/N, I want you to feel home as much as possible. This is your place just as much as it is ours now. Izzy and I go grocery shopping every Sunday, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing we do every week. We keep a list on the fridge, feel free to add whatever you need and we’ll get it.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips, because this is such a sweet thing to do, when Harry could easily afford someone to do the work for him. Yet he still uses this time to be with his daughter.

“Yeah, sure, thank you!”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he nods before walking out. He leaves you thinking hard about him. You wonder what really happened to Izzy’s mom and if he is dating someone right now. A man like him is basically a dream to any woman, you doubt he is having a hard time finding a partner, but you haven’t seen any sign of another woman around the house. Guess you’ll have to wait and figure it out yourself.

The apartment is awfully empty on your last night here. When you moved in about a year ago you didn’t think you’d be moving into a mansion from here. You spend the evening cleaning out a bit so you leave the place in good condition. Your landlord was terribly nice about your early leave, you could easily agree that you’d pay for the two more weeks that’s left from the month and that would be all, no extra costs for moving out before your lease was up.

You’re cleaning off the kitchen counter when your phone starts ringing, it’s a video call from your brother.

“Hey there! What’s up?” you ask, propping up the phone on top of the microwave while you move around, doing your thing. Trevor seems to be lying in bed, a black hoodie covering his upper body.

“Hello, just wanted to see how the moving has gone today.”

Despite the ten year age gap between you and Trevor, your relationship couldn’t be better. Probably because you were old enough to see what a blessing a sibling really is when he was born.

“Everything went smoothly. I only have a few stuff to bring over, that can fit into my car tomorrow, so it’s fine.”

“Cool. How is the dude? What was his name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.” You see him pull his laptop to his lap and probably searches up Harry’s name before his eyes widen at the screen.

“This dude is big! He is the president of HES Records, they run some of the most popular singers these days.”

“Yeah? I was sure he is a big name judging from his mansion,” you chuckle.

“Have you looked him up yet?”

“Not really.” “Want me to read what’s here about him?”

“Sure,” you hum, continuing to clean while you listen to Trevor.

“Alright. Apparently he is thirty-one, took over the record company when he was just twenty-five because his father wanted to retire early. The number of talents working under the label has doubled since he has taken over and many of his clients have won Grammy Awards. Impressive,” he hums, scrolling down on whatever site he has just found. “He is known to be a private person, the last time he made an appearance… Oh shit…” Trevor breathes out and you turn to your phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Wow, this shit is heavy. It says the last time he made a public appearance was in 2017, not long before his wife was killed in a car accident.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop to the floor, immediately thinking back at Izzy’s painting of her family. It very much makes sense why she said the star was her mother, it must be the way Harry explained to her what happened to her mother.

“It happened in 2018, she wasn’t in the fault, a drunk driver ignored the red light and ran into her car at a crossroad. This is terrible, oh God.”

“Poor Izzy, she probably doesn’t even know what really happened.”

“Must have been hard on him, there’s not much about him since then.”

“Can’t blame him for not wanting to be in the spotlight after losing his wife.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor shows you a few pictures of him from years ago, he has always been handsome, but your favorites are the few from the times when he had long hair. He looked so different, like a whole other person, but still, he rocked it perfectly.

Then you show Trevor around in the empty apartment before loving to the couch, turning all your attention to him.

“How have things been?” you ask with a sigh. Trevor purses his lips and shrugs.

“Other than the constant screaming matches on the phone and endless fights every time dad comes over for more of his stuff? Everything is rainbows and butterflies.”

“Is it really that bad?” you scowl.

“It’s like they never run out of stuff to throw at each other, but I feel like this much couldn’t happen even in their twenty-eight years together,” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all that.”

“It’s like payback,” he hums and you give him a puzzled look. “You had it bad growing up for being the surprise baby, making them teen parents. Then I came at a reasonable time, they already knew the drill, but now that you’re out of the house I’m getting all the shit, having to deal with their divorce.”

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” you sigh, feeling guilty that he is all alone at home.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” he shrugs. “But you could make it better if you asked your millionaire boss if I could hang out at his house sometimes.” He grins at you slyly and you roll your eyes. Of course he is already thinking about using you for his own good!

“I don’t want to push the boundaries just yet, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You talk a little more about school and what he’s been up to with his friends before ending the call. You take a shower and go to bed right away, feeling extremely worn out from all the packing you’ve done through the day.

The next day you pack the remainder of your stuff into your car and then your landlord comes over to do a checkup, though he fully trusts you took good care of the place.

“Again, thank you for your understanding, I didn’t plan to leave so early, but it just kinda came up,” you tell him, handing him over your keys.

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your new place will treat you right,” he smiles kindly at you.

You chat a little longer before you leave and head over to your new home. Once again, Ruth is the only one home and being the angel that she is, she helps you to carry your stuff up from the car before leaving to get Izzy from daycare. Since there’s not much left to unpack you finish quite fast, leaving you some extra time alone in the house. Walking around you try to learn your way around, still finding it a bit of a maze. You find Harry’s home office’s door open and after a bit of hesitation you step inside, just taking a look around. Yeah, it’s kind of a nosy thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His space is quite clear, he keeps his stuff neatly organized. Certificates and plaques are hung up on the wall, showing off his many successes in the business. There’s a huge bookcase near his desk and there you see some family photos… ones that include his late wife as well.

She was beautiful. There’s a picture of the three of them in the hospital from the day Izzy was born, Harry has an arm around his wife’s shoulders who is holding baby Izzy, both of them radiating happiness as they just become parents. Your heart breaks when you see the photo next to it, it’s just Harry and her in Paris, the Eiffel tower standing tall behind them as they are grinning widely at each other, foreheads touching. Harry has his arms wrapped around her slim figure while she is hugging his neck. They look so happy and in love, like they were always meant to be with each other. Knowing what tragedy hit them is just hard to process even for you, who never even met the woman.

You hear the front door open and Izzy is laughing at something, so you rush out before anyone could catch you snooping around.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” she chirps upon seeing you when you meet them in the living room.

“Izzy, you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N, Y/N is perfectly fine,” you smile at her, caressing her rosy cheeks.

“Okay. Ruth, can I please have some ice-cream?”

“I’m afraid we ran out of ice-cream, but I’ll put it on your grocery list,” Ruth tells her, a pout tugging on Izzy’s lips.

“How about this: I’m gonna make a delicious smoothie, that’s almost like melted ice-cream, would you like some?” you offer and her eyes brighten up immediately, nodding right away.

While Ruth puts away Izzy’s things they brought home from daycare, while the two of you move to the kitchen to make the smoothie together. You find some frozen berries in the freezer and pair them with bananas, putting them all into the blender with oatmilk, blending it all together.

“How is it?” you ask Izzy, who is sitting on top of the counter, tasting the pink smoothie that leaves a cute little mustache above her cherry lips.

“I like it!” she smiles, scrunching her nose.

“We can make it some other time then,” you smile, drinking up your portion.

Izzy is dancing around the kitchen, babbling about her last day at daycare while you clean the glasses and the blender when Harry arrives. He is wearing a baby blue suit with a crispy dress shirt underneath, looking fashionable but still business appropriate at the same time.

“Daddy!” Izzy launches towards her daddy, who catches her, throwing her into the air before holding her in his arms, joining you in the kitchen.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

“Good, all my friends hugged me but I told them we would meet in the park.”

“That’s right, and I have the number of all your friends’ parents, we can have playdates with them whenever you want to,” he smiles before his eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N, everything went well with the rest of your moving?”

“Yeah, I’m all set,” you smile back at him.

“That’s great. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll be done in thirty probably. Would you mind looking out for Izzy in the meanwhile?”

“Of course. She promised me to take me around her room, so we could do that, what do you say?” you ask the little girl who nods in excitement.

Harry disappears in his office and Izzy pulls you to her room, showing you just about every toy she owns. Her room is a typical girl’s room, the walls are painted a light pink color, her bedframe resembles a castle and she has a dollhouse as big as your previous bathroom. Harry clearly spoils her rotten, but what you noticed is that she is not one of those annoying bratty only children who can’t take no. She was clearly taught how to behave and always listen to the adults.

While Izzy is putting her stuffed animals away after introducing you to all of them, you spot a photo frame near her bed, decorated with macaroni. You remember when you all did that together at daycare and now you get to see the photo that ended up behind the glass.

It’s a photo of Izzy and her mother, she was just a baby and doing quick math in your head you realize it must have been not long before her accident, might even be the last picture taken of the two of them. Her mom is smiling at the camera while Izzy is sleeping in her arms peacefully. Izzy looked a lot like her when she was a baby, the bridge of her nose and her lips resembled her mother’s, though now she appears to take more after her dad with her chocolate curls and piercing green eyes.

“That’s my mommy,” she tells you when she sees you looking at the photo.

“It’s a nice picture,” you smile at her, trying your best to hide how heartbroken you feel even just looking at the photo.

“Daddy said she had to go up to the sky, but she is watching me from there,” she explains, clearly not entirely sure what it means, but you can tell she misses her. “Daddy said she is living between the stars now and that she loves me very much.” You need to fight your tears back at her words.

“I’m sure of that too,” you breathe out smiling at her.

“Izzy, do you want to help me make dinner?” Harry walks in smiling, though it disappears for a moment when he sees the two of you looking at the photo of his wife, but he is quick to control himself.

“Yes! What are we making?” she runs over to him, jumping up and down.

“Uh, chicken and veggies.”

You step away from the photo, pretending like nothing just happened. You’re dying to discuss it with Harry, hear him talk about it, but you won’t push him. If he wants to share it, he’ll come to you.

“Alright, come on then,” he smiles down at her. “Thank you for watching her, I’ll take over from here. Food will be ready in about an hour, Ruth is staying with us as well,” he informs you.

“Great, I’ll… I’ll be in my room,” you nod.

The first two weeks on the job brush past smoothly. It takes you some time to get used to your new home, but taking care of Izzy doesn’t feel like work, so you’re feeling amazing in your new job. You easily fall into a schedule with her.

The mornings are always Harry’s duty. He wakes her up around seven-thirty, makes her breakfast and dresses her for the day before he leaves around nine. Thanks to this habit of his, you’re able to sleep in until eight, leaving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Izzy before Harry has to leave. Depending on the weather, the two of you then either take over the back yard or move to her room for some play time before her class of the day starts in the noon. Piano with Rosaline on Mondays and Wednesdays, French lesson with Lyon on Tuesdays and Fridays and then Izzy’s favorite on Thursdays, swimming class with Kitty.

Izzy loves to help in the kitchen so you usually make lunch together. Once her tummy is full she takes a nap before you sit down to learn something new every day. You’ve been teaching her the numbers and the alphabet, or some days you just talk about anything that interests her and learn at least two things she hasn’t know yet, all through games so she doesn’t even realize what you’re doing. You’re usually done by around three, leaving you time to take a visit to the park, if Harry is not planning to take her himself later that day.

You’re strictly home by four, unless it’s Tuesday when she has her dance class until five. Those days you drive her to her class, run some quick errands and pick her up. Harry usually uses his extra time in the office on these days, but he is always home by six to have dinner together with his daughter.

Once Harry is home you’re off duty, though you like to stay close, not just in case something comes up for Harry, but because you genuinely like spending time with Izzy and Harry, seeing them interacting.

Harry sometimes has to work on Saturdays as well, but just as he promised Ruth is always here to take over duty on those days, leaving you free for the whole weekend. It’s been working perfectly for you and those very few concerns you had about moving in dissolve quite fast as soon as you start working.

Though it’s been pretty clear to you before, you now one hundred percent sure that Harry is living for his daughter. She is always a priority, he doesn’t hesitate to decline any work calls he gets in the evenings if Izzy needs him, if she is a little fussy and wants her daddy’s attention or when they are in the middle of a game. He is clearly trying to keep a balance between his work and role as a father and from what you’ve seen, it seems like he is doing an amazing job in that. However you haven’t learned much else about him. He is all friendly towards you, but makes sure to keep it business casual, not quite keen on getting to know each other better as just friends, maybe.

A Friday afternoon you’re having a little tea party in the backyard with Izzy when Harry arrives home, but this time, he is not alone. Through the sliding door you spot him with a blonde guy who is talking very articulately as Harry is typing on his phone. The man looks about Harry’s age, but you can’t tell if he is a friend or a business partner, but if Harry brought him home, he is more likely to be a friend of his.

“Uncle Niall!” Izzy gasps when he spots the man through the glass and abandoning the tea party, she starts running towards the door. The man spots her and slides the door open grinning widely before she jumps into his arms.

“Little bugger! How are ya?” the man laughs, holding Izzy in a tight hug before leaning back to take a good look at her. You notice his thick Irish accent and it suits his appearance quite well. You head inside as well, in case Harry needs Izzy busy for a little longer, though he doesn’t mind having her around, kissing the top of her head before finishing up whatever he was doing on his phone, watching Niall and Izzy smiling.

“I’m having a tea party with Y/N, wanna join?” Izzy invites the man, who then looks at you for the first time, smiling widely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Izzy’s new nanny,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand that he shakes, keeping Izzy in his other arm without a problem.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Niall.”

“Y/N, Niall is an old friend of mine. He is joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind,” Harry informs you and you find it funny how he is kind of asking for your approval when it’s his house.

“Not at all.”

“Harry has told me he hired a pair of new hands to help, but he didn’t mention it’s a stunning young woman!” Niall beams, making you blush right away.

“Ni, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to pick up my daughter’s new nanny,” Harry warns him lightly, though there’s some firmness in his tone, not that it scares Niall in any way, he even winks at you.

“Oh come on, you can’t expect me not to flirt when you surround yourself with so many pretty women! First Ruth and now Y/N!”

You smile at him, something is telling you he wasn’t joking and he tried to flirt with Ruth as well. Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, taking Izzy from him.

“Keep it in your pants, Niall,” Harry tells him and though it’s nothing vulgar, it catches Izzy’s attention.

“What should he keep in his pants?” she questions, making your and Harry’s eyes grow big right away. Luckily, Niall keeps his cool and takes care of the situation.

“My attitude, Sweetie. Your daddy is just jealous because I’m more handsome than he is,” he smirks at the little girl, successfully avoiding an awkward conversation about what it is that Niall should keep in his pants.

You smile at his reply, even though you are not that sure about the comparison he just made between himself and Harry.

“Izzy, do you want to continue the tea party?” you ask her and even though just a minute ago she was inviting Niall to join her, now she shakes her head no. “Alright, I’ll pack it up then.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it, right Izzy? She brought it all out, she is going to be the one packing it up,” Harry reminds her and she nods.

The two of them move outside to put her little tea set back into the basket she keeps it in, leaving you and Niall alone.

“So Y/N, how did you end up here?”

“I was working at Izzy’s daycare, but they sent me away not long ago. Then Harry contacted me and offered the job which was a lifesaver, truly.”

“That’s great! Well, not that you got fired, but that you ended up here. I know it means a lot for Harry that he can spend more time with Izzy, you’re making everything a lot easier for him.” Niall walks over into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself as he leans against the counter. “I can see that he is a lot more relaxed now already.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah. I know he always used to stress about picking Izzy up, or forgetting something the daycare asked for. Now he can make it all work just how he wants to, that fits him a lot more. It hasn’t been easy on him since Maggie’s death.”

This is the first time you hear anyone talk about Harry’s wife and now you just learned her name. Maggie.

“Being a single parents is never easy,” you add with a soft smile, not wanting to interrogate Niall about Maggie. It’s Harry’s place to tell you about her, if he wants to, of course.

Soon enough Izzy and Harry take over the kitchen, Niall helping them this time and you leave them alone, taking some time for yourself in your room. Later you go out to check if there’s anything you could help with, Harry asks you to set the table as he finishes up the cooking.

“So, Y/N. Tell me a little bit about yourself!” Niall asks you over dinner.

“Um, what do you want to know?” you ask, feeling a little flustered to be in the spotlight.

“I don’t know, family, friends, hobbies?”

“Well, I have a younger brother, Trevor. He is seventeen and already taller than me.”

“Oh, that seems like a big age gap.”

“Ten years, to be exact,” you nod. “He was planned, I wasn’t,” you add with a soft chuckle. “But we have a great relationship, so it’s all good. We talk almost every day.”

“I’m sure you’ll get well along with Gemma then!” Niall beams, glancing at Harry.

“Gemma is my sister,” Harry explains. “Though she is not that much older than me.”

“But you can bond over being stuck with a younger brother who outgrew you,” Niall jokes making all three of you laugh.

All through dinner you realize how different Niall is from Harry, but in a good way. While Harry is more quiet and calm, Niall is kind of all over the place, buzzing and chatting every chance he got, but the two of them make a great pair, bringing what the other doesn’t have to the table.

After dinner you attempt to leave them again, but Niall makes you stay as they open a glass of wine. Harry puts on a movie for Izzy to keep her busy, giving the three of you a chance to sit out at the terrace from where you still can keep an eye on the little girl inside.

“Alright, Y/N. When are we going on our first date then?” Niall asks out of the blue, a cocky smile tugging on his lips.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake,” Harry breathes out as you let out an awkward chuckle.

“What? I think there’s some electricity going on between us.”

“I, uhh—I don’t…”

“Please don’t turn me down!” he sighs dramatically, making you smile.

“You’ve been great company, but I’m not sure we should go out,” you tell him. He huffs in disappointment, but it’s clear he didn’t take it to his heart.

“Is it because you’re taken? I didn’t even ask, are you dating anyone? You can’t be engaged, because I don’t see any rings,” he points out, nodding towards your naked fingers, however his words make you suck on your breath.

“I’m not engaged. Not anymore,” you admit and you watch their eyes go wide at the information.

“Wait, you’ve been engaged before?” Harry asks, clearly surprised, if not shocked.

“Yeah. For about four months,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips as you reach for your wine, taking a few large gulps.

“And what did the fucker do?” Niall bluntly questions, earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m just curious what twat it takes to lose a woman like her!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that,” Harry presses, but you shrug.

“It’s not a secret. We dated for about two years before he proposed. I said yes, started planning the wedding and everything, then found out that he had been cheating on me with his assistant for about a year. We broke up, simple as that. It’s in the past, happened a year ago.”

“That’s some next level asshole bullshit,” Niall shakes his head while Harry is just staring at you with an unreadable look before he turns his attention at his glass, still clearly deep in his thoughts and you wonder what he thinks of you now. Here is the loser who not only got cheated on, but lost her job, all of that just in one year.

Harry doesn’t react, and a moment later Izzy comes out because she is thirsty, so daddy duties call him away. Niall stays a little, but heads home soon as well.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. The date still stands though,” he smirks when he pulls back from the short hug he enveloped you in.

“Alright,” you chuckle, slowly getting used to his flirty act.

You was the wine glasses and head back to your room while Harry walks Niall out and then takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath. You don’t cross paths until later when you leave your room, already in your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to grab some water for yourself and he walks out of Izzy’s room just then, probably done with putting her to sleep.

“I’m sorry if Niall made you uncomfortable, he didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” he apologizes as the two of you walk together.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle softly. “It was kind of a boost to my ego, if I’m being honest.”

Harry huffs with a smile and stops at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping on his lips as you grab yourself a bottled water.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about what you told us earlier.”

Closing the fridge you look at him, seeing that he is kind of hesitant, like he is not sure he should have spoken up, but you appreciate the thought.

“It’s alright. Just water under the bridge,” you shrug.

“I just feel bad you had to go through that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you chuckle softly. “It sucked, yeah. I really thought I would live happily ever after with Keith, but instead I got a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“When we broke up I was obviously on the floor, both literal and theoretical way. I thought it was my fault, that I did something wrong and that’s why he did what he did. I even thought that I’m not worthy of being loved and being in love again. Took me time to realize that no matter what happened, I still deserve to be happy and to find someone to love and who can love me back.”

It appears that your words touch him deep, staring back at you, he just nods shortly, not replying to anything you just said. You’re not sure he is so silent because he doesn’t really understand what you just talked about or if it hit too close to home. Whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him before walking out of the kitchen and up into your room.

You’re lying in bed already when you hear him open his room’s door and then close it and suddenly he is all you can think about. The way his eyes sometimes pierce down on you, the way he taps his fingers against his lips when he is thinking hard or the proud smile that always plasters across his face whenever he is watching Izzy do basically anything. But you do see some pain in those beautiful green eyes of his and your desire to take just the smallest fracture of it away grows, even though he is not showing any sign that he is willing to share it with you.

The next morning, despite having the day off, you wake up quite early. You toss and turn, try to fall back asleep a little longer, but you just can’t. It’s a nice, warm morning and you decide to take advantage of the little balcony attached to your room. Wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe you grab the book you started reading a few days ago and sit out, enjoying the morning Sun that’s shining right at you on the balcony.

You don’t even realize for a while that you’re not the only early riser. When your eyes wander down to the big oak tree that’s near Izzy’s playground, you spot Harry doing what appears to be yoga on a green mattress, wearing nothing else, just a pair of black shorts. No shirt.

For a moment you think about going inside, feeling like you’re invading his privacy in a way, but you have the right to enjoy the morning Sun on your balcony, it’s not your fault he decided to have yoga at the exact same time. And it’s just hard not to look at his shirtless body stretching in all directions, twisting and turning as he goes through the motions, his tattooed body on full display.

It’s been clear since the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time that Harry is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever met and that includes all your exes. Paired with his kind of mysterious charisma and the way he takes care of his daughter, he is the whole package, but you have been busy with Izzy to dwell too long on how attractive he really is. But right now, you are not working and he is very much shirtless in the backyard, teasing you with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to your boss.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you let yourself watch him just for a few more minutes before heading back inside, not wanting to get busted for being a stalker and also not wanting to see him in more positions and have even more unholy thoughts about him.

But what you don’t know is that just as you step inside, Harry catches your figure disappearing in your room, knowing well you saw him too.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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Somewhere only we know - Steve Rogers/Reader/Bucky Barnes smut

The one where your married best friends ask you for an anniversary gift: for you to sleep with them.

Warnings: poliamory, squirting, p in v, p in a, threesome, anal fingering, oral (f, m, performed by m and f), dirty talk, curse words.

A/N: Prompts for today were Double penetration + squirting. I really, really loved creating this universe where Bucky and Steve were married and I loved this reader, so I think I might be adding more fics about their relationship in the future.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

I could see that she was nervous. Even if I wasn’t one of her bestfriends (or a trained killing machine), it was pretty obvious by the way she was biting on her lower lip and avoiding both mine and Steve’s eyes.

She’d never been timid around us before. In fact, I couldn’t even remember a single time I’d seen this spitfire of a woman silent, much less uncomfortable. She just had this way about her, this confidence about who she was and of her own worth that stopped anyone who might try to treat her like something simple. She really was anything but.

Which is why the way she was behaving, so out of character for both herself and our relationship, brought a heavy weight to my heart.

“Sweetheart,” I called out, approaching where she was sitting on mine and Steve’s bed before stroking her cheek softly, silently asking her to look me in the eyes again. “You know you can say no, right? We don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. You’re way more important to us than our attraction to you and this silly fantasy that we created.”

I watched as she blinked twice, and from the corner of my eye, I can see Steve approaching, suddenly catching onto the change of circumstances. Bless his heart, as much as he truly loved this girl, he really was an airhead when it came to women and their feelings, always needing Y/N to spell out what was going on in her life for him to understand that something was wrong. But what he suffered in distraction, he certainly compensated in his caring heart.

I knew better than anyone how my husband could be when he deeply loved someone, and I also knew just how deep both of our feelings ran for her.

“He’s right, Y/N.” The bed dipped as he sat on her other side, reaching for one of the hands on her lap to run his thumb over the back of it. “If you’re worried about finding us another anniversary gift, you can always relent and give me your brownie recipe.”

She snorted, and just that silly sound had the tension on my shoulders suddenly disappearing, a silly smile opening up as I realized that I just might have read her wrong in the midst of my own nervousness over what we were about to do.

“I don’t know what’s more stupid, the fact that you both think I don’t want this or that you actually believe I’d ever give you my family recipe, Stevie.” The words were said in her usual non-bullshit tone and just like that, we were all back to being bestfriends and not a couple about to fuck their closest friend. We laughed, and Steve and I took the opportunity to graze our eyes over her body, tonight clad in a little summer dress that really had no reason to be as tempting as it looked, but the truth was that anything she wore enticed me.

God, how I wanted her.

She drew in a sharp breath before finally spilling out, “I'm just nervous, that’s all. And maybe a little bit confused. Like, what is this? Something to spice up your decades old relationship? How did you even come to decide on doing this with me? Don’t you think it’s going to ruin our friendship? What about…?”

Steve and I exchanged one of our significant looks before he swiftly covered her mouth with his palm, effectively silencing her. “Calm down, doll. Deep breaths. Of course it won’t ruin our friendship.”

I stopped then, opting to let my husband take the lead of the conversation. Y/N’s eyes followed mine, although her head was somewhat restricted by the weight of Steve’s hand, and she raised an eyebrow in curiosity when he opened his mouth only to close it a few times.

“This isn’t just an… exotic experience to us,” he started, and I nodded in agreement. “We’ve actually been thinking about opening our relationship to embrace one other person for sometime now.”

Her eyes grew huge, the weight of our words clearly surprising her. It was silent in the room for a while when she didn’t immediately offer any response, until my stupid boy realized he still had his hand over her lips, obstructing her speech.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly smiled, making her roll her eyes but smile back at him with fondness. God, how I loved them. My heart pounded desperately against my chest, terrified of her reaction, fiercely hopeful to have her as mine too.

“For how long?” Was her question when she finally was free to speak, and I chuckled lowly, my eyes never straying from hers.

“Ever since we met.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

My breath hitched as I felt like my heart stopped beating for a few seconds, Bucky’s words barely processing in my swirling brain. I didn’t know what to say, which was never a good thing when it came to me, but how could one so simply deal with the fact that her married best friends who she had secretly longed for had been interested in her all this time?

So all it came out of my mouth was, “You’re telling me we’ve all been crushing on each other for three fucking years and you only now got the courage to talk to me about it? And using sex as an excuse?” I scoffed, crossing my arms while fake pouting. “I expected more from the both of you, seriously.”

Their roars of laughter were just breathy enough for me to know that they had been nervously anticipating my reaction, which was understandable. For all the hard time I was giving them, I knew how… peculiar this entire situation was, and I couldn’t really say I’d behave any differently if I was in their shoes.

“Well, you know…” One of Steve’s fingers trailed down my jaw before turning my head to face him, and I fucking shivered at how the stupidly simple touch ignited fire in my veins. “It is a decades-long marriage. We couldn’t just very well open it to someone who we didn’t really know and love, just because we were attracted to her.”

“And believe me, sweetheart…” This time, it was Bucky’s voice talking by my ear and Bucky’s fingers tracing over my exposed collarbones, before he leaned down to place a sweet kiss between them. “We’ve been dreaming about fucking you senseless ever since we met.”

A beat as I let their words rush simmer the arousal built inside of me. “Well, don’t you fellas know just how to get a woman going?” Another pair of breathless chuckles, this time for a completely different reason, and I felt Steve squeeze the hand he still held in his.

“Can we kiss you, sweetheart?” He asked, and I found myself swooning - not for the first time - under the blue of his eyes, a soft smile on my lips before I licked them in preparation, quickly nodding.

“Yes,” I breathed out, my gaze falling down to his beautifully pink lips. “Please,” I urged, ignoring the cheshire cat grin that took over his entire face when he realized just how desperate I was for them.

Kissing Steve was everything I thought it would be, except reality felt nicer than even my most realistic dreams. His lips were soft against mine, slowly taking control of our movements before prying them open to accept his tongue.

He tasted like the wine we had shared and I was hooked already. But then a rough beard tickled my neck as Bucky nuzzled his face against it, and I turned around to grant him the same treatment, excited to know how he tasted too.

He was more eager, his hand quickly pulling me by my nape to meet his mouth as mine cradled his face. Instinctively, I knew that despite his rough ways, he liked to be touched softly, and that only became more obvious when I let my own hands fall to the back of his neck, scratching the skin there with care.

Steve’s P.O.V.

I watched with fascination as my husband fell apart in Y/N’s soft hands, my pants growing more uncomfortable each second. A strangled moan escaped Bucky’s lips and I knew he had his tongue inside her mouth now, exploring her sweet taste just like I’d been doing just minutes before.

By the way he easily pulled her to sit on his lap, it was clear that he enjoyed it, just like I did. She was straddling him now, and it didn’t take much longer on their makeout session for her to start unconsciously rubbing herself over his crotch.

My mouth watered at the thought of him being half as hard as I was. Automatically, my hand went over the bulge on my jeans, palming it, feeling it without any urge to take care of myself whatsoever. I knew there was a long night of exploration ahead of us and I wanted it to be the best any of us had ever had.

So I started by massaging Y/N’s scalp, a reminder for her to pull away and breathe, because I was desperate to have a taste of my husband. “Do you mind scooting over, darling? I want to show you something.”

She went without resistance, resuming her previous spot in our bed while I sank down to my knees in front of Bucky, who looked at me with lust-filled eyes and reddened lips that I briefly kissed before my hands made quick work of the fly on his jeans.

“Stand back and watch the show,” I whispered, winking at her when she gasped as Bucky’s cock became visible and I immediately went to work, my lips stretching to accommodate his thickness even after so many years on my knees for him. Even only half-hard, he was still impressive, and it only took a few bobs of my head for him to grow to his complete size.

“Fuck.” I let go of Bucky’s cock with a pop to look at Y/N, who had made herself comfortable by our headboard and now had her fingers under the skirt of her dress, her eyes going from my mouth to the member I still held in my close fist.

“Now, we didn’t say you could touch yourself, did we, pretty girl?” I smacked my lips as I crawled on top of the bed to kiss her before making my way back, Bucky and I exchanging a few loving glances as we undressed in front of her. Then, he beckoned her to the edge of the bed before signaling for her to raise her arms before taking off her dress, leaving her in just her panties.

My eyes were immediately attracted to her breasts, admiring the weight, the aureolas. I itched to suck on one of her nipples, maybe while Bucky did the same on the other, but for now, I knew he had other pressing needs, so I just knelt once more, taking her underwear with me until she was completely bare in front of us.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I saw Bucky exchange another silent conversation with Steve before his husband nodded, climbing on the other side of the bed while the brunette man came to stand by the foot of it. “Lay down,” he ordered, already wrapping a hand around my ankle and tugging, forcing me to do as he said. “Spread those legs.”

Man, I liked this dominant Bucky.

He noticed my staring, suddenly realizing the reason for my fascination, but instead of apologizing, he just smirked. “I’ve been dying to taste that pussy,” was his admission, and suddenly there was no more air in my lungs. Steve’s chuckle right by my ear made me realize that they both could see right through me, and so I surrendered, opening my legs and exposing just how wet this situation had made me.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten pussy?” I blurted out, honestly curious and so fucking horny I couldn’t even find it in myself to be embarrassed. I was expecting a few laughs, but to my surprise, the response I got was a very serious, “For how much I enjoyed it, too fucking long. Come here.”

Once again, he didn’t give me a chance to obey him, instead pulling me even further down so his face was just inches away from my glistening cunt, and the feeling of his hot breath over it had me panting in anticipation.

But of course, I should have known that Bucky Barnes would be a fucking tease.

“You smell so sweet,” he murmured against the soft skin on the inside of my thighs, where he kissed and licked and sucked while Steve deposited sweet, wet kisses over my chest before finally wrapping his beautiful lips on one of my nipples.

“Ste-Steve…” I moaned, buring my fingers on his locks so I could pull them while chasing away his teeth when he released one of my breasts in search of the other. “Fuck, then why are you teasing me so much?” I asked Bucky, trying to get him to come closer to where I was dripping for him, but he only looked up at me with those mischievous fucking eyes.

“It’s called building anticipation, darling.”

I honestly didn’t care for it.

“If you touch me right fucking now, I’ll let you do anything to me. Both of you.” That caught their attention. I watched Bucky lift his head to meet his husband’s gaze, another silent conversation between them before his eyes returned to me.

“Anything?” he confirmed, and my body shuddered in expectation.

“Anything.” He didn’t hesitate any longer after that, immediately diving in to taste my pussy with a hunger I had never witnessed in any of my past lovers. Or even in porn, actually. He moaned at the first taste of my wetness, and my thighs already trembled from the reverberations of that simple sound.

“So sweet,” he whispered, and then he was lapping me eagerly, and my moans were echoing around their bedroom before Steve pulled me to kiss him again. He liked to make out, I realized, starting to file my little discoveries for future reference.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

Fuck. I’d always liked to eat a girl out, I could remember that, but I swear, no one had ever tasted as good as the beauty I had sprawled out in front of me. Dipping my tongue in her hole one more, I hummed before lifting it to play with her little nub before repeating the process, making sure to nudge her clit with my nose when I was fucking her with my tongue.

A symphony of moans reached my ears, male and female intertwined, prompting me to open my eyes and trail them up Y/N’s body to find her and Steve kissing deeply. The sight made my heart grow twice its size, and I smiled against her cunt as I watched them make out while Steve slowly teased his own cock.

Of course, Y/N wouldn’t have it. Oh, no. The second she realized where his hand was, she wrapped hers over it, assuming the control over his movements until he allowed her to do as she pleased, letting his hand fall back on the bed.

“Actually, you know what?” She suddenly asked, sitting up before waving me off of her. I was about to complain, not ready to separate myself from her taste just yet, but that was until she flipped around and crawled between my husband’s legs, wrapping her hand on his boner before taking it into her mouth.

I was so completely taken away by how hot the whole image was - her on all fours, Steve with his head thrown back as the slurping sounds of her sloppy blowjob surrounded us - that I almost missed the fact that she was shaking her fantastic ass at me, presenting her pussy for me to feast upon again.

Guess I was doing something right, then. I buried my face in her cunt again, licking her from behind and rejoicing in this opportunity that I dreamed about for so long. I couldn’t even remember how many times both Steve and I had made each other cum just talking about what we would do if we ever got the chance to have her in bed with us, and now here we all were. Together.

Trailing my fingers up her thighs, I finally pushed two of them inside, swirling them around in an effort to find her sweet spot. I didn’t manage to locate it that easily, but I figured, we had time. For now, I had other plans in mind.

I collected some of her wetness with two of my fingers before raising them to circle her puckered hole, and she moaned in response to the new touch. Good. I wanted her to desire this as much as we did.

I slowly pushed a single finger in her ass, relishing in the way she thrust back against it, crying out around Steve’s cock. “That’s a good girl, taking my finger so easily inside this pretty little ass.” I had to slap one of her cheeks, I itched to see it bounce. She continued to move against my finger, so I figured it was safe to do the same.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The second I felt Bucky’s finger inside my ass, I knew what the last silent conversation between him and the man whose cock was currently between my lips was about. And I couldn’t wait for it.

“Bucky, please…” I released Steve’s beautiful cock momentarily, too overcome with desire to be able to suck on it properly. “Please, give me another.” Abruptly, his lips left mine, and I looked over my shoulder to find him staring at me with wide eyes.“Oh, fuck, I wanna hear you moan my name again.”

“Put another finger in my ass and I will.” He didn’t wait another minute before doing just so, and I fucking cried out at the feeling of being stretched open, already yearning for the feeling of one of their cocks replacing Bucky’s fingers.

“Fuck, Y/N, I had no idea you were so into this. I love the way you look with my fingers deep inside your ass.” Fucking hell, Bucky’s mouth was just sinful. And he got his wish, because as I fucked myself back into his fingers, all I could say were versions of his name, under Steve’s watchful gaze. His cock throbbed in his fist, and that’s when I took it upon myself to stop Bucky’s actions.

“Okay, okay. Fuck, I need you inside of me right now. Both of you.” Steve reached out to pull me over his lap, so I was straddling him, and I took the opportunity to once again substitute his hand with mine, lightly jerking him off as I heard Bucky look around for some lube.

“Are you sure you can take us?” I cocked an eyebrow at the blond man underneath me, a true work of art. I wanted to play it off as irritated, but I could only find giddiness inside of me over everything that was happening, so I leaned down and captured his lips with mine, releasing his cock to rub myself against it.

“Just get inside of me, will ya?” I rubbed the mushroom head against my clit before slowly sinking down on him, biting my lip at the beautiful moan Steve released upon feeling my walls clamping on him. And then I braced myself for Bucky’s cock.

Ironically enough, as I gasped from the feeling of being so amazingly filled, they both hissed, four hands pressing down on me in a clear sign that they were already dangerously close to coming. I inhaled sharply, taking sick pleasure on the burn of being so stretched out as I waited for them to start moving. And when they did, I simply let myself go, allowing them to use my body as they thought best.

“Fuck, darling, do you know how fucking great it fells to be inside of you?” Steve asked, his hands cradling my face to pull me into another breathtaking kiss. “You’ve been teasing us like hell all those years, we were going crazy.”

Steve’s P.O.V.

“He’s right, baby girl.” Bucky couldn’t take his eyes away from mine as he continued, “Do you know how many times I fucked Steve in this very bed, pretending you were here too?” The sounds that were escaping her were better than any music, and it was getting harder and harder to focus on not bursting inside of her tight, wet pussy.

Both Bucky and I had been wanting her for so long, the need to worship every inch of her body was strong inside of us, but hopefully, we’d have other opportunities to take our time. For now, I knew we needed her to cum, and soon.

I pressed her clit as Bucky’s hands went to graze her nipples before harshly pulling on them, and she sobbed as her hands covered ours. “Please don’t stop, please.” Fuck. Hearing her beg was torture, but the sweetest one possible.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Cum around our cocks like a good girl. Don’t you want to be our good girl?” The fact that those words were the ones who did it for her brought us excitement like nothing else. So much so that when she finally relaxed, falling against my chest, it only took a little incentive for us to meet our highs, too.

“Do you like that, doll? Do you like the idea of being ours? Our sweet, pretty girl?” Bucky was brushing her hair away from her face so we could get a better look of her, but all we got was another sob as she trembled in my arms.

“Please be ours, sweetheart,” I urged, holding her face so she’d look me in the eyes. “Say you’ll be ours.”

“Fuck, yes, I’m yours, I’m yours.” As both of our cocks twitched inside of her, an explosion of wetness started to drip on the duvet underneath our bodies, all the while Y/N’s body kept trembling.

“Did you just… squirt?” My husband’s face was priceless, and I didn’t need to look down to know that his cock still hadn’t softened, despite the strengths of our orgasms.

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me,” she yawned, adjusting her head on my chest, my cock still throbbing inside of her warm heaven. “Classes start in twenty minutes. The professor just needs a quick nap for now.”

➡ click here to read about the progression of their relationship

#my fics #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #steve rogers smut #smut #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers #bucky barnes #avengers smut #marvel smut #steve rogers reader #bucky barnes reader #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes fic

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babyjamiebarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x Stark!reader #Stark!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky x Stark!reader

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jungshook69 · 4 years ago

Text

.:☆.°☾.Jealous.☾°.☆.:

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy. The taglist is open if you want. Taglist is now closed.

WORD COUNT: 1358 words

PAIRING/S: Jungkook X female reader

GENRE: Established relationship au ; Oneshot/Imagine

WARNINGS: None

ABOUT: This oneshot is part of a 7 part BTS imagine called “Jealous”. This oneshot is a reaction imagine of how each member would get jealous of their s/o in a given situation.

7 PARTS: Namjoon || Seokjin || Yoongi || Hoseok || Jimin || Taehyung || Jungkook

STATUS: Complete

☆.。.:*・°☾.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☾☆.。.:*・°☾.。.:*・

You felt a bead of sweat travel down your forehead as your legs moved at an incredulous rate on the treadmill beneath you. Your chest was heaving and completely drenched in sweat as you tried to keep your staggered breath steady. You shut your eyes close, as you tried to engross yourself in the music blasting through your air pods.

Two minutes later you heard the familiar beeping of the machine underneath you, indicating that your hour on the treadmill was over. You hopped off and turned your attention to the rest of the folks in the gym, disconnecting your air pods simultaneously.

You watch Taehyung, Yoongi and Namjoon lifting kettle bells in the corner, Jimin and Hoseok were still running on the treadmills and lastly Jin was situated on a pec-deck machine, and your boyfriend Jungkook was seated beside the older, lifting dumbbells.

You were their personal fitness trainer and took exercise very seriously. You liked to maintain a healthy lifestyle and were incredibly proud of your toned abs that were sprawled across your abdomen, as you took a quick take of your figure in the gym mirror.

You made your way over to Jin and Jungkook and observed Jin’s figure. Now this may sound a little weird, but you never ogled anyone in the gym. You didn’t look at them with lust. When you were observing someone’s figure, who in this case was Jin in a black tank top, you always kept it professional. Your mind immediately kicked into auto drive as you begin thinking about what machine you would recommend them to work at next.

“You know Jin oppa, you don’t need the pec-deck machine.” You spoke up after a minute of thinking.

You caught Jungkook’s attention too. “What?” Jin spoke up.

“See, you already have pretty broad shoulders like Taehyung, but your shoulders are already pretty uplifted naturally. So this makes it appear as though you’re naturally toned at the chest. And trust me when I say you have a great upper toned figure already. I think you should work on your quads. So I think you should ditch the 25 minutes over here every week and swap it out for 40 minutes on the seated leg press machine.” You state your analysis.

“Okay” Jin said without a complaint, moving to switch spots for the rest of the session. This is what you loved about working with them. They always respected your decision and knew that whatever was being suggested was only to make them a better version of themselves.

You were about to move on to the trio lifting the kettle bells, when Jungkook’s feeble voice stopped you, “Noona, what about me? Do I need to change anything?” he said his eyes sparkling.

That was something you found astonishing about him. How his face represented that of a young teenage boy, his doe eyes sparkling, while his body was that of a muscle man. But recently after you had complimented him on his cute face, he had taken it the wrong way, and had decided to grow his hair out, indulging into man buns, in an attempt to make his face look more manly. You absolutely loved his long black hair, but you had kindly explained to him that he needn’t look all macho all the time to impress you. After understanding the situation he had decided to keep his long hair, as he’d fallen in love his new look.

“Noona?” Jungkook’s soft voice disrupted the array of your thoughts.

“Yeah… no… you don’t need to change anything babe, I think your routine is fine, at least for another month.” You said turning on your heels to move towards the trio in the other corner of the gym.

Before you knew it, you were assessing the three and assigning them their respective machines. You were right in the middle of checking Yoongi’s weight plates so it wouldn’t be too strenuous on his fragile shoulders, when a loud yelp echoed off the walls of the gym followed by a loud thump. You motioned the others to wait as you ran towards the source of the familiar voice.

Your eyes met with the sight of Jungkook’s left hand gripping his right shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth partially open, gasping for air, a pained expression written all over his sweaty face. Your eyes shifted to multiple giant weight plates all on a pile on the floor, having slid of the dumbbell bar.

“What do you think you’re doing?” your voice half-laced with annoyance, half with concern.

“I was just… lifting weights” he said breathlessly.

“Yeah I can see that. But why are they out of your weight class? Why did you add on an extra 10 pounds to the barbell?” you ask.

“I just wanted to try something…”

“Well you can’t just impulsively change your weight class Jungkook. It’s gonna strain your arm muscles. No wonder you got hurt.” You said crouching down to your knees as you tried to move his arm back and forth, checking on his muscle strain.

“I just wanted to improve my frame…”

“Well you can’t do that Jungkook. We follow a level of professionalism here. There’s a reason I’m your personal trainer.” You said sternly. Nothing came in between you and strict professionalism, and Jungkook knew that. It was part of the reason as to why he found you so enticing.

“I- I’m sorry” he said chest heaving.

“You gonna tell me why you really did that babe?” you say in a softer tone. You could tell Jungkook had a hidden intention behind his impulsive action.

“No reason.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit Jeon, tell me…”

“Fine! I got a bit insecure when you were complimenting Jin hyung’s figure, so I wanted to change things up a bit…” he said sighing.

“Gguk, hey look at me…” he immediately looked up to the voice of you calling him by his nickname.

“Listen… please don’t feel insecure… it’s my job to observe and analyze your guys’ figures and ensure you guys remain healthy and fit. And the comments I throw around about your bodies during our sessions are merely to decide what’s the next step to keep you guys in shape. It’s my job Gguk, you need to understand. I am in no way comparing you guys to each other okay?” you said calmly explaining to him.

“Okay…” he said a small smile forming on his lips.

“Promise me you won’t go ahead and do anything impulsive like that again… because if you hurt yourself, your fans are gonna be really upset and worried about you.”

“Yeah…”

“Mr. Jeon Jungkook, I never thought of you as the jealous type.” You said giggling after a short pause, trying to lift the tension in the room.

“Noona… hush” he says his cheeks turning red, as he refused to meet your eyes.

You drank in his flustered and disheveled state as you bent down to his level and thread your fingers through his long black hair. His eyes visibly widened as you closed the proximity between the two of you.

“You have some guts, telling me what to do Gguk…” you said dominating the chiseled man in front of you. You watched as his Adams apple bobbed up and down nervously.

“N-Noona… someone might see us…” he gulps, his breath uneven.

“Let them” you say connecting your lips in a steamy kiss, the fear of being caught, leaving a feeling of excitement shiver through your body. You let your tongue dart out, tracing a warm trail along his soft lips. Just as he opened his mouth to give you the entrance you ever so subtly asked for, you pulled your tongue away, completely disconnecting your lips from his.

You watched his hooded eyes, blown out with lust, flutter open, as he looks at you with his mouth agape.

“Sorry baby, duty calls.” You say standing up, smirking.

“B-But…” you watched his adorable red cheeks as he struggled to form words.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.” You say winking and walking away to resume your job, leaving Jungkook’s mess of state behind.

☆.。.:*・°☾.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☾☆.。.:*・°☾.。.:*

A/N: I wanted to try something different and write Y/N as a dom character and the male lead as a sub character. Also I wanted to show that Jungkook is a perfectionist. He wants to be good at everything, and he is, owing to his competitive nature. But I just wanted to make a point that he doesn’t have to be good at everything for us to love him. We all love him no matter what, and that he doesn’t have to strain himself, just to feel loved by us.

Don’t forget to follow @jungshook69 for more content:) You can check out more works of mine here. Have a great day:)

TAGLIST: @yzkyzkuniverse

ENDING NOTE: Hey guys! I just wanted to say I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of love my series got. I never expected more than 3 people or so to read my story. But you guys surprised me with the amount of people who liked my series. I just wanted to say a big thank you for the support as it motivates me to work harder and give you guys better works in the future. Sending you all a big virtual hug, stay safe, and I look forward to sharing more of my writing with y’all :)

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

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Hello! First of all I have to say that your writing is the best I have read so far and you have a way with words that has me going crazy at 3 am 🤣🤣 I wanted to suggest a short story where Levi and the reader have feelings for each other and are on a mission together. Then it starts to rain and it gets really cold at night so they’re forced to seek shelter and have to spend the night together in an abandoned old house until the rain stops, and they basically get to know each other better and eventually start flirting ya know ya know? 😗Thank you so much and please feel free to add any more ideas you may have 😁

ahhh the classic, stuck with a stranger trope. I dig it :)

Summary: You spend a rainy night with your bitter captain

Word Count: 1.8K

The rain felt like needles as you rode into the wind, your cloak felt heavy and waterlogged as you struggled to see through the shower. You had lost your squad, leaving you alone in the middle of titan country. Your gear felt light, meaning that your blades were nearly gone and gas as well. In other words, you were royally fucked.

Your horse was huffing, sides rising and falling deeply as she tried to hold the pace you had set. Her head bobbed and you threaded your fingers through her mane and stood on the saddle to ease the weight on her back, and allow her to resume her natural gait.

Just as you emerged from the thin thicket of trees you had been riding in, you spotted a small cabin, and a black horse tied up out front. You recognized Captain Levi’s stallion and felt relief flood through you. You steered your mare towards the squat building and swung off once she came to a halt. Tying her up next to Levi’s stallion before jogging up the stairs. You lifted your hand and pounded on the door, a flash of lightning illuminated your form when Levi pulled the door open. His hair was dripping wet as was his clothes.

“Cadet (L/n), surprised you made it this far.” He scoffed before turning and stalking back into the cabin.

“Captain....the formation is broken.” You stated the obvious, unsure of how to respond to his jab.

“No shit, this damn rain fucks with the signals. Seen it before.” You almost weren’t sure if he even said the last part since he muttered it so quietly.

“So what do we do?” You asked, clutching your cloak anxiously.

“We wait it out idiot.” Levi grunted as he began rummaging around the small cabin’s kitchen drawers.

“What...about the formation?”

“The formation doesn’t exist anymore, what matters now is getting back to the wall.”

You remained silent, stunned by the gravity of the situation you’d found yourself in.

“Shitty eyebrows needs to stop putting the fucking formation on a pedestal, you brats need to learn how to act at your own discretion.” Levi continued as he pawed through a drawer, he pulled his hand out holding two stones. Flint, to be precise, he had already taken some of the firewood that had been sitting in the cabin and chucked it into the fireplace. You wondered how long it had sat there in the lonely cabin, who had gathered it? A child maybe? When you were younger, you had lived on a farm with your family, raising horses for the military. One of your many jobs had been to get firewood. You wondered what had happened to the people who lived here before, wondered if they could ever return.

“Oi, take off those boots. Just because nobody’s lived here in three years doesn’t mean you get to track mud inside.” He scolded and you quickly stripped yourself of your mud caked boots.

“Yes sir.” You grumbled as you numbly wandered into the kitchen, pausing when you found a small corn husk doll, very similar to the ones you once made. You picked it up, cradling its head as you held it up in the dim light. The sound of stones clicking and then the crackle of a small fire brought you back. You turned to see Levi hanging his cloak and jacket by the flames.

“Take off your cloak and jacket.” He ordered and you placed the doll down to fulfill his command. You shivered in just your shirt, which was soaked, the olive colored fabric nearly see through due to the wetness. Levi averted his eyes as he snatched your jacket and cloak from you. You dropped down to sit on the floor near the fire, staring into the flames as you allowed your mind to wander. Levi sat down as well, crossing his legs and closing his eyes as he tried to even out his breathing. The only sound was the crackling fire and the patter of rain on the old roof. You had nearly forgotten how it sounded, having lived in the castle for years now, the cozy cabin brought you back to your childhood. And before you could think better of it, you asked:

“Where are you from captain?”

“None of your concern.” He grunted, eyes still closed and face lacking any signs of emotion.

“Well, where I’m from, when it rained like this...we’d go outside and-”

“I didn’t fucking ask. Now shut up and go to sleep or something.”

“There’s no need to be so bitter Captain.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and angling your shoulders away from him, the sting of his words. You sighed heavily and fell flat on your back, staring up at the rafters, a drop of water seeped through and landed right on your nose and you let out a huff of disgust.

“....Look” Levi’s voice was heavy and less annoyed than previously.

“If talking...makes you feel better about all of this....then I guess I don’t mind listening.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, bangs obscuring the top half of his face as he studied you, splayed out on the floor.

“....Thanks.”

“As I was saying, when I was younger, I used to be scared of thunder storms. But my grandma, she would make this cake. She called it thunder cake.” You closed your eyes and a dreamy smile curled onto your lips. Levi felt a pang of jealousy, being nearly 28, one would think that he could get over his childhood. But he just couldn’t seem to, he wished he grew up in the sunshine, known his family, gotten to be scared of thunder instead of men in the underground.

“-it wasn’t really anything special, just a lemon cake. But making it during the storm...she said it was magic, and you know.....I believed her.” Your voice cracked and Levi frowned, he remembered that naivety, how his mother would tell him about fairies or goblins. He had believed those stories for a time as well. But when she had died, he no longer saw beauty in the world. How could he?

“She was so smart Captain. She knew everything, how to treat a tooth ache, how to make the best bread, break a horse. I wish I could be half as wise as her.” You continued, Levi turned to look at you, your usually bright eyes seemed distant and foggy, mouth screwed into a frown, your bottom lip trembling.

“When she died, I felt so alone. I couldn’t compare, how could I? She was so strong and, I was just a shitty kid.” You scoffed bitterly, Levi understood your pain deeply, loosing people was something he was all too familiar with. He blindly reached out and let his hand awkwardly fall over your own. You froze, head turning to look at him.

“How about you? What did your...parent do to help you through the scary parts?” You asked, eyes wide and hopeful. Levi’s jaw locked as he tried to wrack his brain for something to say, you had just been so vulnerable with him. How could he not repay the favor? Especially if the two of you would die in this shitty cabin.

“She would....give me a bath, or we’d clean the house.” He said with a curt nod, remembering his mother pouring soapy water over him after he had scrapped his knee, or cried so hard that his eyes were nearly swollen shut. Yes, that was the truth, they would take a bath and then she’d tell him those shitty stories.

“That sounds nice.” You said wistfully as you turned your hand to lace your fingers with his. You sensed his tension and decided to carry on telling your own story.

“I hated cleaning, my grandma used it as punishment for me. Like when I was 10 I threw eggs at the neighbor boy after he lifted my skirt up.” You chuckled lowly at the memory.

“Sounds like he deserved it.” Levi said with the smallest of smiles. You beamed up at him and nodded.

“Yeah, he sure did. My grandma made me clean the coop for two weeks after that, and the stables.” You giggled, squeezing his hand as you laughed. He felt another wave of jealousy, wishing he had memories like yours.

“And you? Did you ever get in trouble?” You asked, rolling onto your side, pulling your hand free from his, he immediately missed the contact, not that he would admit it though.

“That’s all I did when I was younger.” Levi scoffed, looking down at you with a gleam of amusement in his gaze.

“What kind of trouble?” You pressed, resting your chin on your palm as you stared up at him.

“I bet it was with girls, you seem to be popular with the cadets.” You teased and Levi’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“No, more like I was stealing and selling government property illegally.” He scoffed, reaching his hand down to ruffle your damp hair, you let out a bark of laughter as he grabbed the roots of your hair and shook your head playfully.

“Yeah right, you’re the strictest of all the squad leaders, as if I would believe-”

“I grew up in the underground, didn’t matter down there, just did what I had to do to put food on the table.” He shrugged, trying to keep the atmosphere light, yet stay honest with you.

“No way....that’s impressive captain-”

“Levi, call me Levi.” He said, withdrawing his hand and leaning back against the couch that was behind the two of you.

“Okay then...Levi, I call bullshit.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow and beaming up at him. Levi glared down at you, not sure if he liked the defiance or loathed it. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, but your eyes never strayed from his and he let out a scoff.

“It’s true, I was born a bastard and escaped through the military.” You raised your brows at this, you hadn’t expected him to be honest.

“I...admire you for that, takes a strong person to overcome things like that.” You said a tad sheepishly as you averted your gaze, feeling like you had overstepped some boundaries.

“We all face our own challenges..” Levi muttered, eyes still locked on you.

“That is true.” You agreed, with a small smile thrown his way. The rain still pounded against the windows and your gaze strayed to them, watching the water stream off of the roof.

“This will all be a bad memory in the morning.” Levi said, following your gaze, he recalled how you said you’d been afraid of thunder when you were younger. He wondered if you still harbored that fear.

“I don’t think it will, I hope I can look back on it fondly.” You said, turning and smiling softly up at him, and Levi’s stomach began doing flips, his cheeks flushing at the sentiment behind your words.

“Yeah....whatever, just go to sleep brat.” He grunted, reaching down and ruffling your hair once more, you giggled and laid down, soothed to sleep by the feeling of his hand in your hair and the sound of rain on window panes.

#levi #Levi fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #Levi x You #levi x y/n #levi x reader insert #reader insert #levi is soft for u #rainy night #aot fandom #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman #attack on titan

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 7 “The Noisy Roommate” [Episode List] Tim spends the night at Dave’s house and they have to share the latter’s full-sized bed. As they go to sleep, Dave soon makes sure that it’s gonna be a noisy night.

The episode is inspired by TheFartingWolf’s video/premise of the same name. I had a similar idea sometime ago but I figured I could just combine my story and the video for, I don’t know, a real 4D experience? With that said, I’m ready to delete this story should TheFartingWolf want me to do so.

Also keep in mind that this is not a story about the IRL person who made the video linked above, but rather two fictional characters.

The Noisy Roommate

“Thanks for having me over, bro.” I thanked Dave, while rummaging through my backpack.

This was not the first time I slept at Dave’s house of course, not even the first during our 20s, but this time it truly was a last-second solution. This is not like the shower emergency from sometime ago, though water is involved again somehow.

“No problem dude. I needed someone to help me finish this case of beer anyway.” he said, cracking one open and throwing the can at me, which I managed to catch.

“Always up for it.” and I took a long sip of that cold nectar.

“I’m sorry you almost drowned.” he joked.

“Yeah it was terrible.” I played along.

Truth is that some pipe in my house literally exploded and water flooded the entire apartment. It’s not as bad as it sounds: the leak was already fixed but I still needed a place to stay for the night. I didn’t even have time to call anyone as Dave simply showed up at my place and drove me here.

We sat on the couch to watch some bad movie as we kept chatting about some random stuff and having beer. We were both dressed casually, Dave sporting a pair of grey shorts and a black t-shirt, outfits that doubled as our pajamas, even though Dave was probably gonna sleep shirtless as he usually does.

And again, as usual, I felt some familiar vibrations going through the couch. I rolled my eyes and chuckled.

“Straight to the point, I see.” I commented.

He laughed and slightly leaned, ripping the rest of the 7-seconds rip towards me, without the couch muffling the sound now. I always appreciate how my bud is so casual about my kink and that fart, needless to say, was impressive, despite being “small” for my bro’s incredibly high standards. Also, he basically almost always farted like this even before he knew about my fetish which, again, led me to appreciate more how his attitude towards me didn’t change at all -and he knows very well the “side effects” his blasts give me.

I pitched a tent in my own shorts but I managed to hide it by adjusting my position, crossing my legs. Whether Dave noticed that or not was irrelevant, as he kept ripping a couple of more loud toots.

We resumed watching the TV for like one hour until we both decided it was time to turn into corpses for the rest of the night, so we went upstairs, the beers making us a bit dizzy but nothing serious.

I was familiar with Dave’s house so I headed directly to the guest room, my bud right behind me.

I stepped into the dark room, turned the light on, and I saw it, staring at me from the bed.

Brave Dave was the first one to run away, pulling me outside of the guest room as I hastily shut the door. Team work!

“Okay, Tim. Were you cursed or something?” he asked.

On the bed we both just saw a huge spider, the biggest we’ve ever seen in real life. While we’re not properly arachnophobic, it’s not like *we like* sleeping with spiders hanging around.

We were both manly adult men and so we were both very afraid of the eight-legged monster sneaking out to murder us in our sleep, or simply existing, so the two of us rushed to the kitchen and came back with tons of duct tape to block up every nook and cranny of the guest room door.

“Alright.” I said. “I’ll just use the couch downstairs.”

“Nah bro.” Dave commented. “My bed’s full-sized. You can join me.” and he walked towards his room.

I needed some time to process what he just said. Me and Dave shared a bed many times but that was always before I came out to him. I wonder how-

“Look, I hate to interrupt your inner monologue about self-pity and all” he said, kind of annoyed. “But can we just for once skip your awkward bullshit and head to bed? Thanks.” and then disappeared into his room.

I chuckled a bit as I realized how “formulaic” I was being lately when he more than once proved to me that he had no issues with me, so I followed him.

The bedroom was dimly lit and he was already lying on his side of the bed, shirtless, showing off some mild pecs and an overall nice-looking figure.

“I gotta warn you: I’m a screamer in bed.” I jokingly said, lying down on my side of the bed, just by the window.

“Oh yesss, scream harder, daddy.” he played along, laughing.

We were both lying down, mindlessly scrolling stuff on our smartphones and reading articles. That only lasted a couple of minutes.

“Well, time for your goodnight kiss” Dave announced, quickly wrapping his legs around me and planting his butt in grey shorts in my face.

I was still lying down as the fart erupted, almost making me deaf for how loud it was, so up close and personal. I couldn’t see the ceiling very well as Dave’s hairy legs mostly obstructed the view. The blast didn’t even smell that much, which made me assume it was on command rather than fully natural; not that it didn’t stink at all of course.

The beer-powered fart lasted about 10 seconds. He wiggled his ass on my face a bit and then let me go/breathe. “I thought you were a screamer.” he teased and went back on his side of the bed, which almost looked queen-sized.

I didn’t say anything and I simply turned my back to him, trying to be annoyed and failing miserably, feeling a faint scent in my nostrils every time I breathed.

“Looks like there’s a leak in my house as well.” he said, right before ripping another thunderous blast, this time far from me. I tried to ignore that, but I still pitched a tent anyway. I didn’t even turn around: I’m not going to let the teaser win!

After a couple of minutes, Dave turned the lights off and the room fell into darkness, the only source of light being a digital alarm clock inches from my face. 1:34 AM, not as late as I thought, but my body didn’t care and I fell asleep almost immediately.

2:44 AM I hear a loud noise and I woke up, only opening my eyes, the alarm clock greeting my sight in a room of pure darkness. Took me a couple of moments to realize that, of course, it was Dave farting, this time in his sleep. I turned around, noticing Dave’s grey pants as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

3:01 AM I was almost asleep as another fart snapped me back to reality, this time even louder. Again I instinctively turned around and stared at my bud’s butt as the blast erupted. Those felt very airy and pretty much odourless I think. I thought whether I should wake him up but I didn’t want him to think that I was listening to his sleep-farting, which is literally what I was doing sadly.

At this point I was playing the jump-rope between being asleep and awake, every time fully waking up because of Dave farting like crazy. After many farts, the blast at 3:59 AM felt particularly powerful and “meaty”, which made me look again at my friend’s butt, somehow noticing his pants moving because of the air being blasted out. A powerful rip that lasted around 11 seconds I believe. Was I dreaming? Similar farts then followed.

4:59 AM This one almost scared me as when I thought it was over it instead became louder and louder, as if it was a train passing nearby. It had a great sound and flow, one of the best I ever heard from my bro.

5:32 AM Another peak in farting activity. Falling asleep at this point was impossible. Each moment of silence was just the quiet before the storm and I completely gave up on the idea of resting that night.

6:21 AM This one was so loud and powerful that even Dave woke up for a moment. He simply sighed in relief though, but when even the farter wakes up, you know the fart was incredible.

6:36 AM A similar blast greeted the first lights of the dawn.

Even more powerful rips were heard at 7:16 AM and 7:33 AM. At around 8:01 AM, Dave finally woke up by himself, one of his loudest farts acting as natural alarm clock.

That was a long night and as I heard Dave going downstairs to do his morning routine, I figured it was finally time to catch up some sleep, but ironically enough the silence made it more difficult as I was now so used to his blasts that they felt like white noise, fetish or not.

That teasing bastard won and wasn’t even done.

After merely 30 minutes, I heard him jump on the bed. I was facing the window, pretending to be asleep, but I knew he was standing on the bed, towering over me.

“Rise and shine, roommate!”

He squatted over my head, still sporting those grey shorts, and ripped a huge, loud and proud natural morning fart all over my face. I’m kind of glad I was already awake, ‘cause I would have been scared to death by that gas thunder. Where was all of this gas coming from? How was he not done?

I screamed, annoyed, and pushed him on his side of the bed, my hands touching his still-farting ass, the stench being this time unbearable. I heard him laugh like an idiot as he lied next to me, keeping one of his legs up as he finished ripping that loud, long fart.

“So you are a screamer!” he joked.

“And you fart in your sleep.” I replied.

“As if you’d mind me doing that.”

Whether he was aware or not of what happened during the night, Dave was as usual so comfortable around me that he just didn’t care and it was all just a big gassy prank for him. So I just lied there, awake, chatting with my bud about my house looking like Venice, so tired and so exhausted that I didn’t even bother about the spider staring back at us from the ceiling.

End of Episode 7

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

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Good Ideas

1.5k of canon-divergence fluff, now on AO3!

Dean is almost finished with his standard gun cleaning (once a week whether they need it or not) when footsteps approach from outside his bedroom door. Heavier than Eileen but lighter than Sam - must be Cas.

“What an awful day,” Cas sighs as he practically throws himself onto Dean’s prized memory foam mattress. He doesn’t even take his shoes off first, like an animal.

“Hello to you, babe,” Dean says, amused. He raises his head to fully look at Cas, now face planted into his pillow. Dean would like to say it’s unusual to see Cas this drained and frustrated after another shift at the Gas n Sip, but it’s become pretty much standard. And, because not-that-deep-down Dean’s a shitty person who lucked out and got a (fallen) angel to fall for him, he can’t entirely squash the pleased feeling in his gut that flares up every time Cas comes home to him, no matter the circumstances.

“Hello, Dean,” or that’s what Dean assumes Cas is saying, based on their past million and a half conversations over more than a decade.

Dean carefully sets down his colt and pads over to the bed. He takes a seat near Cas’s shins, the mattress slowly but surely dipping as it remembers Dean’s distinctive ass print. “What happened?”

“Humanity is stupid.”

Dean snorts. “Don’t have to tell me twice. What’d humanity do this time?”

Cas turns his head so he can glare balefully down at Dean with one brilliant blue eye. “Todd refilled the soda machine incorrectly. We had to reimburse ten customers who poured the wrong drinks despite the clear signs indicating the buttons were temporarily incorrect.”

“What a disaster,” Dean deadpans.

Cas groans a stream of indistinguishable words that might not even be English - knowing him, he’s probably insulting Todd’s mother ancient Aramaic or something - before he concludes, “It was a very uncomfortable situation. Todd is an imbecile.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” Dean asks casually.

Cas’s whole torso inflates with the depth of his sigh. “No,” he says, but the word is muffled and has zero conviction behind it.

“Come on,” Dean pokes Cas in the thigh. “You were the one who wanted this job in the first place. All the ‘human dignity’ you could choke down and all that crap.”

“I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Dean says, grinning as Cas rolls over so he’s lying normally on Dean’s bed. “Y’know, you could always do something else. Quit the Gas n Sip.”

“Like what?” Cas asks as he frowns up at the ceiling. “I don’t have much experience except in inventory management and customer service.”

“What about all your angel stuff?”

“I can hardly list ‘former Angel of the Lord’ on my resume,” Cas grumbles.

“You’ve got all those languages crammed in your brain, serious hand-to-hand skills - I could teach you all I know about cars, and you can add that.”

Cas gives a considering grunt.

“Look,” Dean says as he scoots further up the bed so he’s more aligned with Cas’s chest than his knees. “You were the one who was all gung-ho about getting a job to interact with normal people.”

“I needed a better baseline now I’m human because you and Sam are not ‘normal’ by any definition of the word,” Cas sniffs.

“Rude. Anyway, I told you to take things slow. So your first stab back at slumming it with regular folks isn’t going so great. Sometimes these things take a while to settle down,” Dean says, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to comfort Sammy after three piano lessons didn’t turn him into the next Geoff Nicholls - or Elton John, as Dean had to amend after Sammy shot him a look of complete incomprehension.

“You don’t have to throw yourself into anything,” Dean adds gently to Cas. “We’ve got no big bad waiting out in the wings. It’s okay to take things one step at a time.”

“Because you provide such an excellent model of restraint and forethought,” Cas mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You don’t see me jumping back into Leave it to Beaver.”

“Because that’s not what you want,” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. “You said civilian life isn’t for you.”

Dean swallows. He pulls at a wrinkle in the sheets. “You so sure about that?”

Cas props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “You’re truly considering retiring from hunting?”

Dean glances over at his guns, disassembled and gleaming on his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. Sammy doesn’t go on many hunts anymore, says it’s more important to teach the next generation of fighters than handling everything by ourselves.”

“A wise thing to say, considering the limitations of the average human lifespan.”

“And you wonder why we never bring you to parties,” Dean says as Cas scowls in return, really only proving Dean’s point. “I’ve been looking into other stuff to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not sure,” he admits. “Sam’s got his Hunter Hogwarts thing going on - I could help Sam out, but the thought of reading and assignments makes me want to throw myself out a window.”

“You do like to be more hands-on,” Cas says diplomatically.

Dean sighs, wistful. “If the Roadhouse was still around, I would’ve kicked ass there. Talking with veterans in the business, passing along intel, throwing out the occasional brawler.”

Cas cocks his head. “Why don’t you rebuild one?”

“What?”

“Another Roadhouse,” Cas says like it’s obvious. “Those hunters Sam is teaching, they will need another meeting point once they’ve completed their training.”

Dean gapes at him, trying not to get his hopes up. He can picture it with alarming clarity, him behind the bar, Cas sitting off to the side, pouring over the books or a translation for one of Sam’s kids.

But this thing with Cas is so new - rescuing Cas from the Empty, telling him haltingly and not in so many words Cas could have what he wanted after all, doing their weird not-dating thing that works for them. Dean can’t be sure they’re on the same page about this.

Cas is technically human, but so many parts of him are still pretty out there in terms of fitting in with normal people stuff. Dean suggested they go on an honest to God date about two weeks after that went down - dinner at a fancy place in Salina. He even looked it up on Yelp. But, naturally, Cas had to ask ahead of time what usually happened on a date - a real date, Dean, because Metatron’s pop culture dump gave me many false impressions of what is normal or healthy for humans.

When Dean embarrassingly couldn’t think of a single thing people did on dates except eat and have sex, Cas went to Sam because apparently there are zero boundaries when it comes to Team Free Will. And Sam, like a total Samantha, said most people talked about their feelings and life goals.

To which Cas turned back to Dean, said those big, I love you, words like they’re nothing and everything, and added his life goal was not dying before spending the rest of his human life with Dean.

The fucker even looked pleased Dean didn’t have to shell out the dough for a fancy steak.

“You have enough connections in the community to round up a decent clientele base,” Cas continues. “Not to mention your reputation, which would go a long way towards drawing hunters you personally haven’t met before.”

Dean clears his throat. “You really think I could do something like that?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” he says with that patented-Cas sincerity that Dean would call bullshit with anyone else. Cas continues, “Twenty-seven percent of restaurants fail in their first year, but I have every confidence in you beating the odds.”

Dean snorts. Even Cas’s Beautiful Mind statistics aren’t enough to bring his mood down.

“And if you need help…” Cas drifts off sheepishly, “I do have requisite experience managing inventory. I cut down on unsellable food by fifteen percent two weeks ago.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Dean breathes as he bends over Cas.

Cas smiles up at him. “Would you want to?”

“Would I - ?” Dean breaks off incredulously to kiss him. “Of couse I fucking want to. But you really think it’s a good idea?”

Cas purses his lips. “It was my suggestion in the first place.”

“But maybe you were just spitballing,” Dean hedges. “So if you really think restarting the Roadhouse would be a bad idea, I can take it.”

Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t have bad ideas, Dean,” he murmurs.

That is so blatantly untrue, Dean almost bursts out laughing. But before he can make a sound, Cas’s other hand slides underneath his shirt, his fingers tapping lightly against the buckle of Dean’s belt. Dean raises his head to catch sight of Cas's face, and Cas’s eyes are dark with want.

Alright, so in times like these, Dean can admit Cas can have a good idea or two.

#destiel #destiel ficlet #ficlet #rae writes fic #profoundnet #established relationship #canon divergence

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miekasa · 3 years ago

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break up with your boyfriend, i’m bored

+ pairings: um… armin x reader…. but, spotlight on jean—just... read it to understand, please

+ genres and warnings: college au what’s new, fluff… you’re just going to have to work with me and trust me on this one alright

+ notes: free colt he ain’t do nothing wrong i just needed someone outside of their immediate friend group to blame i am so sorry justice for my boy colt and falco too

+ more notes: longer levi fic still in progress, so have jean thee comedian in the meantime

“I think I have a crush on someone.”

Jean crosses his arms and makes it a point to huff even louder than before so that you can accurately assess his annoyance at moment; going so far as to slump back into your not so comfortable couch to really sell it.

“And that is why you manhandled me all the way to your apartment on a Tuesday afternoon?” he asks, voice flat and eyes hooded.

You groan and roll your eyes. Jean’s eyebrows are pinched together with more judgement than confusion at your current state of distress when you sit next to him on the sofa, a knee bent in his direction.

“Jeanie, I don’t think you’re understanding the severity of my issue.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” he drawls, “But, please, do enlighten me. It’s not like I have an essay to write or anything.”

“I have a crush,” you reiterate, hands mapping out every syllable in your sentence, “On someone who is not my boyfriend.”

“I see,” he nods, but his voice remains flat, “And, pray tell, what exactly is my role in all of this?”

“You’re supposed to use your philosophical psychoanalytical bullshit to tell me what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.”

“Philosophy and psychology are two different disciplines.”

“They sound the same to me.”

“That’s because you’re a single-celled chem major.”

“I think it takes more than a single cell to study chem.”

“Oh, is that what they tell you guys, now?”

“You’re not fucking helping.”

“Yes, I am,” he tuts, “It’s called talk therapy.”

“It sounds like you’re just taking shots at me.”

“Best friend talk therapy allows for a few digs here and there.”

“Jean,” you pinch his arm. He flinches, and yelps loudly, immediately raising the affected arm to counter with a flick to the center of your forehead. You glare, the palm of your left hand covering the sting on your skin, but concede, “Well played.”

“Thank you,” he nods, “I learned from the best.”

“Okay, now that you’ve gotten your ego boost for the day, can we worry about my problem, please.”

He shrugs, crossing resting his left ankle atop his right knee, “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“What exactly is the problem, again?”

You sigh, and lean your head on Jean’s shoulder, “I have a boyfriend—”

“We’ve been over that.”

“—and the person I have a crush on is not my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” he pauses, “Are you going to do anything about this crush?”

“Well, I… no,” you ponder, “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” he repeats, “So, then why are you so worked up about it?”

“Because!... Because… I don’t know, it’s… wrong? I’m in a relationship with someone else—isn’t this, like, emotional cheating?”

“Maybe,” he says, “I don’t know a whole lot about relationship psychology.”

“Come on, Jean.”

He sighs, “I’m serious, I don’t know, (_____).”

You whine, sounds muffled by the fabric of Jean’s sweater where your cheek lay pressed against his shoulder. “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”

“You’re not, stop it,” Jean answers firmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “You’re not horrible for having emotions that are difficult to work through.”

“Okay, then, I’m just a horrible girlfriend.”

“Maybe.”

“Jean.”

“Sorry,” he winces, patting your head for extra encouragement. It’s meant to be comforting, but it makes you feel like a patronized six-year-old, at best. It’s quiet for a while, with you mulling over Jean’s words, and him trying to pull you into the worst side hug in all of existence.

“Do you think,” you break the silence, “Maybe I should I break up with him?”

“Yes,” his answer comes too quickly, and much too enthusiastically.

You lift your head from his shoulder, unamused, but Jean doesn’t even try to hide the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him.”

“No,” he pauses when he catches glimpse of the disbelief on your face, “Okay, yes, I don’t like him. At all.”

“Jean—”

“But maybe this is your subconscious telling you that you don’t like him either, and that you should, instead, go after your crush.”

“Oh, so now you want to use your psychobullshit on me?”

“If it means I don’t have to pretend to like Colt anymore, then yes,” he replies, a stupid, shit-eating grin on his lips.

You scoff, arms crossed against your chest, “You don’t even pretend to like him now.”

Jean shrugs, “I pretend to like him to his face.”

“No, you don’t,” you insist, “You’re probably the worst at it, in fact.”

“I’m not worse than Connie.”

“You called him an asshole. To his face.”

“Connie poured tequila on him.”

“Connie was drunk. You were completely sober.”

“Connie would have done it sober and you know it.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but the words fall silent in your throat. Connie probably would have done it sober. “Okay, fine, whatever, you don’t like him,” you wave away the subject, “Do you really think this crush is my subconscious telling me to break up with him, though? I mean—it’s just, crushes are kind of fleeting right?”

“Sure, but—”

“What if I break up with him, and then I get over my crush, and realize I made a mistake.”

“Then you learn and grow, and find a new crush.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he insists, “You’re beating yourself up pretty bad over this mystery guy—”

“—It could be a girl.”

“Is it a girl? Oh, is it Mikasa? Are you still hung up over her—you know I’m sure she’d make out with you asked. I think you both could relieve a lot of tension that way, actually.”

“You’re the worst person to walk this planet, you know that?” you sneer, annoyed by the smug grin on Jean’s face. So what if you had a tiny crush on Mikasa? Most people did, Jean included.

“Look,” Jean continues, “You and I both know you’re not a cheater, but you and I also know you’re just like Eren when it comes to things like this.”

“Just like Eren?”

“Falls too fast, too hard,” he clarifies, “I get the feeling you’ve had these feelings for a while, and that they’re not fleeting.”

You pout, and Jean knows that he’s right. “Okay, so say I do break up with Colt—”

“Which you should do, regardless.”

“—If we break up, then what? I still won’t know what to do with my left over grief. It’s not like I can just... go ask this guy out right away.”

“Yes, you can,” Jean presses, “In fact, you should.”

“No, I can’t,” you insist.

“Why not?”

“Well for one, I’ll look like a heartless whore.”

“You’re not a heartless whore for asking a guy out.”

“I am if I do it right after breaking up with my boyfriend.”

“Your internalized misogyny is showing,” he sing-songs, “Come on, you’re not a whore for doing what you want with a guy, you know that.”

“Okay, fine, not a whore, whatever,” you roll your eyes, “But I still couldn’t ask him out.”

“It’s the twenty first century, just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you can’t ask him—”

“Not because of that, dumb goose,” you glare, “I meant because—it’s, well, it’d be really sudden and kind of… awkward?”

“It’s not like he’d know you just broke up with someone, unless that’s one of your conversation starters.”

You sigh, a hand on your forehead. “Yes, he would, Jean.”

“How could he possibly—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mock, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you resume your previous sulking position, head leaning against his shoulder with your right cheek squished against his sweater.

“(_____), I’m honored, but you’re not really my type. I’d be willing to help you get over him though.”

“It’s not you, you fucking long-necked pigeon, it’s Arm—,” you cut yourself short, hands clamped over your own mouth.

“Oh my god!” Jean all but screams, propelling his body away from you with just enough distance to extend his arm, finger pointing directly at your chest, “You like Armin!”

“Shut up!”

“You have a crush on Armin!”

“Shut up, Jean!”

“You have a big, fat crush on Armin!”

“Shut up! I said shut up, you pasty fucking giraffe looking ass bitch!”

“Oh my—okay, you have to break up with Colt, immediately,” Jean rushes, “I can’t believe this—if you think Armin wouldn’t go out with you, then you really do have the intelligence of a single celled organism.”

“What in the ever loving fuck are you talking about.”

“We’re talking about the same Armin, right? Armin Arlert, about this tall,” Jean raises his hand significantly lower than Armin’s actual height, “Studies astrophysics, follows you around like a lap dog—”

“He does not,” you scoff.

Jean guffaws, “Didn’t he take you on a tour of, like… the NASA museum for your birthday? With the super high-tech planetarium that people die to get into?”

“Actually, it was their headquarters, but it’s only because he gets special privileges for being an intern.”

“Didn’t he name a star after you?”

“Anyone can name a star after anyone,” you roll your eyes, “It’s really not that hard.”

“People do not fucking go to NASA and ask for stars for just anyone!” Jean screeches, hands flailing wildly.

“Armin does!”

“Yeah, for you!” Jean emphasizes, “Come on, do you think if anybody else called him right now and asked him to get a star in their name, or even just fucking take them to headquarters of the most renowned space organization in the country, that he would actually do it?”

“I mean, maybe, if like… Eren asked.”

Jean opens his mouth to refute, but freezes half way with a head-tilt and pursed lips. “Okay, yeah, maybe—whatever, doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to tell him.”

“I don’t need to tell him shit.”

“You’re seriously choosing Colt over Armin? Who willingly stays with some greasy prick with the world’s most annoying younger brother, over a handsome, straight-A astrophysics student with a penchant for marine biology, and, like, really clear skin.”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know Bertholdt was studying astro.”

“I wasn’t talking about Bertholdt.”

“It sounded like you were talking about Bertholdt.”

“I mean, Bertholdt’s got great skin, but it’s no where near as clear as Armin’s. He glows.”

It’s quiet again, as you eye Jean with a raised brow that’s all too familiar. “Are we sure that you’re not the one with the crush on Armin?”

“Shut up, you’re avoiding the point.”

“What’s the point, exactly?”

“That you’re in love with Armin, who is miles better than your current boy toy, so you should ask him out immediately.”

“I have a boyfriend, not a boy toy.”

“Ah ha!” he yells, “You didn’t deny that you’re in love with him—oh my god, you’re in love with Armin!”

He’s standing now, practically bouncing off the the walls at the revelation. You take to smacking him with the nearest pillow. “I’m not in love with him! I just—just really like him, okay!”

“Very convincing.”

“Shut the hell up, you’ve been pining after you know who for seven eons at this point.”

“You bitch,” he growls, “We’re not supposed to bring him up.”

“Well, you keep bringing up Armin!”

“We never established that Armin was on the list of he’s who shall not be named.”

“Well I vote that he should be.”

“Your vote has been vetoed,” he grins, “Look, I’m completely serious when I say that Armin is just as in love with you as you deny you are with him.”

“That sentence hurt my head,” you pout, resuming your signature brooding position.

“It’s okay, your single brain cell has been through a lot in the past fifteen minutes,” he pats your head again, earning him a glare that he simply chuckles at, “All it means is that you love Armin, and I assure you that he’s equally, if not more, in love with you.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. Now, up, up, up,” he tuts, pulling at your biceps until you’re standing, only to immediately start ushering you to the door, “You have a shitty boyfriend to go break up with.”

“What—Jean, come on, I didn’t mean right now!” you exclaim; but he’s stronger than he looks, and continues to propel your body out of the open door.

“No time to waste!” he insists, “Every hour you stay with Colt you lose another brain cell.”

“I thought I only had one to begin with,” you say, sarcasm evident in your tone.

It makes Jean’s grin triple, “Exactly, so go, not another hour to waste!”

“Jean, wait, I—,” you begin, only to be silenced by the silver door shutting in your face. The lock clicks soon after, and it’s only then you realized what he’s done.

“You knobby kneed bitch, this is my apartment!”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #armin x reader #armin arlet x reader #jean smut #eren smut #armin smut #eren x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines

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