#I was thinking that it being a friday near the end of the month that there'd be a chance and LO

[raycatzdraws]

LU WIND BUT HE'S A ITTY BITTY HUMMINGBIRD

Slingshot Proficiency!

+bonus doodle drafts

[moonchildstyles]

complicated

y/n meets someone, only to find out that he's going to be her stepbrother

wordcount: 17.3k+

—————

(Y/N)'s mouth pinched as she looked at the aisles of wine before her. Knowing her Uncle Mick, he wasn't even going to have a sip, not when he had whisky in the cabinet instead. But, it felt wrong meeting his new girlfriend—fianceé, actually, as of last weekend—empty handed. She wanted to make a good first impression, especially since she hadn't made any serious efforts to come by and meet her until her uncle dropped the proposal on her. 

Truthfully, it was because of her uncle; he was a hopeless romantic who had told (Y/N) on more than one occasion that he had fallen in love with someone he'd just met in the years since his wife had passed. It was hard justifying taking time off from work and booking plane tickets for a short-lived relationship.

But, that obviously wasn't the case this time. He'd been raving about this woman—Anne—for the last six months. Enough so that he purchased a ring and wanted to marry her as soon as they could thread something together. And her Uncle Mick wanted her to be a part of the whole process—she was the daughter he never had, he'd said. 

So, even if he wasn't going to take a single sip of whatever rosé she picked out, she was going to do it anyway. She needed to get to know this woman and let her know that she was going to be welcomed with open arms into this small, but loving family. 

Perusing down the aisle, (Y/N)'s eye caught a bottle with a golden foiling around the cork. The label was especially pretty, printed in French with a year on it that would take at least a couple of minutes for (Y/N) to do the math on. It was pretty, and undoubtedly more worth more money than she planned on spending tonight. But, that was the point, she thought. 

She'd make more money, but her uncle wasn't going to get married again. (She hoped, anyway).

The only problem? It was on the very top shelf and nowhere near the edge. She wasn't going to be able to reach it unless she called for help from one of the employees wandering around here. They didn't particularly seem to be in the mood, though. She didn't blame them, what with this being how they spent their Friday evening, watching every patron come in looking for some liquor to kick the night off. 

Looking around, she wondered if there was anything around here, one of those pokers that many retail spaces used to get high up t-shirts off the top racks. She knew the idea was stupid before she even finished the thought, but she couldn't completely ignore the hope that fizzled in her chest. 

Okay, maybe if she stood on the tips of her toes and reached really hard, then jumped she could reach it. Yeah, she could try that. Hopefully, she would only be able to reach the bottle she wanted and not knock over the plenty of other ones lining the shelves. 

With her hand blindly reaching the top of the shelf, fingertips grazing the empty surface, (Y/N) readied herself to jump as high and controlled as she could. 

"Do y'need help?"

The stranger's voice knocked her out of her plan. At the end of the aisle was a man with curling brown hair looking at her with a pinch between his brows. He had a white button up covering his torso, a light blue cardigan slouching over his form. He didn't wait for his answer before he started towards her.

"Um," she started, dropping to stand flat on her feet, "Yeah, actually. Thanks." 

"Of course," he smiled, relief unstitching his brows. "'M happy I caught y'before y'jumped. I don't think that would have worked out like y'hoped." 

"Me neither," she laughed, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, "But thank you. I was trying to reach the gold one on top." 

His smile was kind as he effortlessly reached for the bottle. (Y/N) couldn't help the way her eyes dropped over him, appraising every inch. Rings glittered on his hands, some with gaudy gems, others nothing more than brassy bands. The cardigan she had seen across the aisle was actually a knitted depiction of a cloudy sky, fluffs of clouds stitched into the material. His trousers were a warm brown, matching the belt cinched around his waist and shin of his shoes. As he reached, his hand had a cross inked between his thumb and forefinger. 

He was really cute. Really, really cute. In a real way, she considered if he was a model. Why a model like him, with a perfect nose and shattered green eyes, would be in the wine aisle of the liquor store of her home, she had no idea, but she was grateful for whatever circumstances put him here. 

Blinking away from him in hopes of concealing just how intently she had been staring at him, (Y/N) graciously took the offered bottle in his outstretched hand. 

"Thanks," she smiled, "Thinking now, I don't think my plan would have worked." 

The man in front of her settled in, hands in pockets as he gazed down at her. "Yeah? Rethinking the jump?" 

"Oh yeah," she laughed, "I think my bag alone would have knocked down an entire shelf." 

A short, breathy laugh fell from his lips. "Definitely. Would've ruined your night before 's even started." He gave a pointed look to the bottle in her hand. 

"Oh no, I'm just going to my uncle's house for dinner. He probably wouldn't have even noticed if I was soaked in wine with glass stuck in my jacket as long as he had food in front of him." 

The man hummed, giving a slow drag of his eyes over her form. "I don't know. You're hard to ignore." 

Her skin was decidedly warmer under his gaze. She couldn't bite back the grin that sparked over her features. 

"In a good way?" she chirped, blinking up at him as if he were the sun and she a flower. 

He had dimples. Her breath clung to her throat. 

"Only the best," he flirted, shifting on his feet as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He hesitated before reaching for the device. A beat passed as she let him read the notification, his lips thinning before glancing up at her. "I have to get going, but... I hope this isn't weird to ask, but could I have your number? Or whatever y'would want to share?" 

The man had come off so confident, approaching her without prompting. Lazily dragging his eyes over her with his hand shrugged in his pockets, entirely sure of what he could offer her should she take him up on it. But, now, asking for any way to contact her, he had struggled to find his words. She watched as he attempted to form the best way to ask for her number, a thin smile on his lips. 

She only nodded her head. "I can give you my number." 

The man before her brightened, dimples and bunny teeth on display. "Cool," he muttered, offering his phone up the same way he had offered the wine. 

Typing in her information, she glanced at him through her lashes. "My name's (Y/N), by the way." 

"Oh, yeah," he rushed out, breathing out a huff of laughter, "That's right—names. 'M Harry." 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she smiled, passing his phone back, "Thanks, again." 

"Yeah, yeah," he grinned, looking down at the new contact on his phone. "Of course. I'll—um—I'll text you soon. Have a nice night at your uncle's." 

"Have a nice night," (Y/N) said, biting back her own grin.

Harry hesitated in his spot for a moment, looking at her with pretty green eyes and fluttering lashes before forcing himself to take off.

He only glanced back at her twice. 

—————

Sitting in her rental car, the drive to Uncle Mick's house mapped on her phone, (Y/N) took a moment in the silence. 

What kind of romantic comedy had she just found herself in? Giving out her number to random, pretty boys she met in the liquor store of all places. If she found out this had been a bad choice later, she would blame the cloud cardigan and the shades of green in his eyes. Anyone would melt when faced with those. 

Pushing the car into drive, (Y/N) allowed herself to wonder for a moment just how long she would have to wait for him to message her. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait very long at all before she had a chance to see him again. 

—————

(Y/N) felt out of breath as she approached the front door of her Uncle Mick's house, as if she had ran here instead of driven. 

The traffic on the way here had been humbling to say the least. And to think she called his place her hometown when she had turned into the wrong subdivision twice and was shocked every time another stoplight blocked what she remembered to be a straight path home. She could do another other than watch her arrival time drift further and further than the eight o'clock they had agreed upon. 

Clutching the neck of the wine bottle, (Y/N) figured thirty minutes late was better than not showing up at all. Despite having texted her uncle when she pulled up, she still pressed the doorbell. On the other side, she heard the clattering of overgrown feet with barking following shortly after. Flipper was awake, then. 

She was stuck outside for only a minute before the knob clicked and turned. Uncle Mick pulled the door open, smiling lips and crinkled eyes the first things she saw. 

"Hi, honey," he greeted, pulling her into a hug while Flipper went crazy behind him, "You made it." 

"Hi, Uncle Mick," she smiled, feeling suddenly emotional now that she was hugging him. It had been way too long since she saw him—the man that had raised her from the age of eleven. She hugged him especially tight at the thought. "I've missed you." 

"I've missed you, too. But you're here now, and we've got dinner warming in the oven for you." His kind smile only widened when he saw her gift in hand. "And you brought wine! Did I tell you this one was my favorite?" 

(Y/N) blinked. "Since when did you have a favorite wine?" she asked, passing off the wine as she locked the door behind herself. 

Her uncle shrugged, tipping his chin up in faux-superiority. "Can't a man change, (Y/N)? Or must I always drink acetone?" 

She let out a bubbling laugh as she followed after him, petting Flipper on his shaggy head. Trailing through the living room, she could see the lighting in the dining room, the chandelier that had gone unused for most of her childhood now lit at full power. A scented candle now dotted the coffee table, along with fluffy throw pillows and a knitted blanket on the sofa. 

The entire house seemed... softened. Eased into another phase of life that included delicate edges and soft-scented air. This woman must really be something to get Uncle Mick to take down his fish of the month calendar. 

Approaching the threshold, (Y/N) braced herself to follow after her uncle. She was going to have to start the night with an apology. 

Mick started the introduction, stepping aside when he said her name as if presenting her to a ballroom instead of his fianceé. 

"Sorry, I'm late. I—" 

Her words became stuck in her throat. 

Sitting in one of the four chairs at the small table was Harry. Cloud cardigan and all. 

What the fuck was he doing here?

"You alright, kiddo?" 

Blinking back to earth, (Y/N) nodded her head. "Yeah sorry," she muttered, forcing out a laugh, "I forgot what I was saying, as I was saying it." 

A round of laughter filled the room. Including Harry's. 

Making a point to avoid the end of the table that his chair sat, (Y/N) pointed her smile at the pretty, dark haired woman sitting right next to where her uncle had set himself up. 

"Sorry," she started, again, walking around the table to meet the woman halfway. "I wish I could have come around to meet you sooner. You must be Anne." 

(Y/N) had her hand outstretched to shake, only to be pulled into a warm hug. The embrace was soft and comforting, just like the effect she seemed to have on her uncle. 

"Don't worry," the woman, Anne, smiled, "Mick has told me all about your job, so I understand. Thank you for taking the time to come down and see us. It's wonderful to finally meet you." 

She had kind eyes, hazel with shatters of a familiar green. Just the reminder had a flush plucking at her cheeks, knowing who was sitting just behind her. 

"It's really nice to meet you too, Anne," (Y/N) smiled, hoping the natural turn of the conversation wasn't the one that this would take. 

Her hopes were shot down when Anne gestured behind her, her grin only widening. 

"(Y/N), this is my son, Harry. He's down visiting from work too." 

Harry. Harry was her uncle's—who was really like her father for all intents and purposes—fianceé's son. The man that would be as close to a bother as she could get as soon as this wedding happened, was the same one she had thought about going on a date with all during the drive here. 

He seemed to have the same shock running through his system as she stood from his chair. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

Boundaries were maintained as they shook hands. Even if she was, unfortunately, taken aback by how large his palm was compared to hers. Warm and encompassing around her fingers. 

Matching his gaze, she could see the matching panic she was sure was also written on her face. They both felt that flirty energy in the wine aisle. They had only been cut off because they had somewhere to be—which happened to be the same place. 

Her name was in his phone with a pink heart emoji. 

And now they were just a wedding short of being step-siblings. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry." 

Forcing herself to pull her hand back, (Y/N) made the self-serving choice of looking towards her uncle. Whatever had conspired between her and Harry had gone unnoticed if the beaming grin on Mick's face was anything to go by. 

"I can help with dinner," (Y/N) offered, hoping for a reprieve in the form of the quiet kitchen, "You said it was in the oven, right?" 

"Oh yes, dinner," Uncle Mick laughed, "The lasagna is in the oven. Thank you, (Y/N)." 

That was all the permission she needed before scurrying off to the kitchen. She moved on robotic limbs to the appliance, but stopped short of pulling open the door.

Instead, she leaned over the stove, hands braced on the ledge. 

What kind of tragic comedy had she found herself in?

—————

"Goodnight, kiddo. Thanks for coming tonight." 

(Y/N) hugged her uncle that much tighter. She could hear the sincerity in his voice; this was about more than a dinner she had managed to make it down for. 

"Goodnight, Uncle Mick." 

Their embrace lasted a beat longer before she unraveled herself from his hold. Over his shoulder, she could see Harry having a moment with his mother. Seeing them side by side like that, the resemblance was so clear. Even down to the set of their teeth and the cheekbones. 

Especially when they smiled at each other like that. 

"Still on for breakfast in the morning?" Mick asked, fatherly affection painting his features. 

"If you can pick me up, yes," she conditioned, batting her lashes and beaming up at him. 

"As long as you're up and ready to go, I can make that happen." 

She pulled him into another hug to show her thanks. "I'll see you in the morning. Love you." 

"Love you too, kiddo. Get to bed so you don't keep me waiting." 

Heading towards the door, (Y/N) threw a glance over her shoulder, intending to wave to her uncle one more time, only to catch Harry following in her footsteps. Her lips thinned. She knew he was on his way out too, but she had hoped she was moving faster than him. Now It would be weird to rush out ahead of him and let the door slam in his face. Especially if this was now her soon-to-be stepbrother. 

Harry's pleading eyes met hers. Begging her to wait just a second for him. She supposed, even if she wanted to avoid it, they needed to talk about this at some point. 

Now, they both were waving goodbye to their respective parents. Final declarations of how nice it was to meet one another were shared, following them out onto the chilly stoop. Silence fell over them as the door sealed behind them. 

Just the two of them now. (Y/N) and her almost-stepbrother. (Y/N) and the guy she had just short of fantasized going on a date with only hours earlier. 

His steps slowed to match hers. 

"So," he started. 

She didn't offer any words. Was now when they acknowledged the obvious flirting they shared in the liquor store? Or were they going to save that for the wedding? 

"Kind of fucked up, huh?" 

At that, (Y/N) couldn't help but to laugh. The sound was surprisingly loud, breaking into the quiet neighborhood. 

"That's exactly what I was thinking," she murmured, coming to a stop next to her car. Daring to look up at him, she caught him already looking down at her. His eyes were just as pretty now as when she saw him for the first time that night. Before she knew her adoptive dad was marrying his mom. "Did you... You didn't know before, right?" 

A pinch appeared between his brows. "No. Had no idea. The last time I was down here was two years ago, when I helped my mum move."

"That's crazy. The last time I was here was two years ago, too." 

A rueful smile touching his lips. They were both having the same thought. 

If only...

"They seem really happy together, though," (Y/N) posited, knowing they were going to have to accept the terms of their newfound relationship. 

"Really happy," Harry agreed, glancing back at her childhood home, "'S been a long time since I've seen my mum that happy." 

"Same for my uncle." (Y/N) nodded her head, her smile thin when Harry turned back towards her. Whatever she had started knitting for him this evening, now needed to be severed. "It was really nice to meet you, Harry. Thanks for everything tonight." 

Faint dimpled dented his cheeks. "It was nice to meet you, (Y/N). Get back to your hotel safe." 

"You, too," she reciprocated, pulling open her car door. Harry took a step back, his hands in his pockets as his eyes followed her. "Oh," she gasped, "You should probably change my name in your phone, by the way. I think the emoji might throw some people off." 

At that, she was granted Harry's bursting laughter as she climbed into her car. She probably felt a little bit too much pride over that. 

Pulling out of her uncle's driveway and out into the street, she couldn't help but peek into her rearview. Though a part of her wanted to think Harry had his eyes following her, the other part of her was quick to send a reminder that that wasn't something she should want. Not anymore. 

While there wasn't anything serious that had conjured between them, the potential having been torn from their hands was enough to feel a little bit of loss. They hadn't even had time to mess it all up themselves. 

Now they'd never know. 

 —————

Tucked away in her cubicle, (Y/N) smiled at her phone. 

The group chat labeled Wedding Party complete with every floral emoji the keyboard had to offer was going crazy. But, she still went to the single message from Harry first. 

     I love my sister so much but I think I'm going to have to block her if she sends one more Pinterest board to my mum. This whole thing was supposed to be small and now we're looking at a gelato bar for the reception.

     There wasn't even supposed to be a reception.

She covered her mouth as if that would make the grin growing over it obsolete. She knew well what he was going through. For the first two months of this engagement, all talks of the wedding had been flippant, that the ceremony would happen when it happened. In a matter of weeks, everything had changed. There was now a joint bachelor and bachelorette party to plan. 

Harry had been her lifeline through this roller coaster. They didn't talk about the night in the wine aisle, never breaching the previous terms of their acquaintance. Instead, they had grown to be friends. Good friends. The kind of friends that had separate conversations outside of group chats. The kind that would send anything that reminded them of one another. They had inside jokes now. 

They were friends. Soon to be step siblings. 

(Though, even if it wasn't something she acknowledged, (Y/N) knew good and well there was a phantom following her any time she interacted with Harry. That phantom never let her forget that she was still attracted to him. Even if no action could be taken, she wasn't going to be able to forget him as the man in the cloud cardigan with the pretty eyes and freckled nose).

     I'm supposed to be figuring out a bachelor party and I think I would rather die than think about what my Uncle Mick would want to do on his last night as a "single man"

     I might just change my number actually and hope no one notices 

     Hahahahahaha

     And now we both get to be there for that last "single" night. Thrilling stuff! 

     You'd still let me have your number though, right?

She didn't want to admit how her cheeks warmed reading his texts. Maybe because it was something she wanted to see—though she'd never admit to as much out loud—, but she swore there was still that flirty undertone to the way he spoke to her. Like he wasn't quite over things like they were supposed to be. 

     Of course

     I'm scared you'll go crazy without it and I still need you for the actual wedding 

It was a small indulgence, telling him she needed him. While she wouldn't act like there was something astronomical that had been built between them, it was hard to ignore the fact that the more she spoke with him, it didn't exactly tamp down her feelings for him. 

     I know you do.

(Y/N) blinked at her phone screen. She could hear the words in his voice, that drawling accented voice. The way his eyes would have connected with hers had they been speaking in person. How there would have been a quirk in his lips, a reminder that this was very much a silly, lighthearted joke even if a part of her short-circuited. 

Ignoring everything else, (Y/N) typed out a lame, noncommittal response ("You wish lol") before locking her phone and placing it face down on her desk. The email in her inbox suddenly sounded a lot more appealing than they had only a few minutes prior. Even making the copies she had been putting off for the whole morning had suddenly been pushed up the to-do list. 

Anything to keep herself busy—too busy to think about Harry. 

She would be seeing him again soon because of the bachelor/rette parties that were coming up within the next month, and she needed to have her head on straight. It was embarrassing to be so distracted, caught up in someone she'd only met in person once. A total of maybe six hours had been spent together that entire weekend she had visited home, counting both the initial dinner and the brunch before the both of them were to jet back to their respective homes. Each of those hours had even been buffered by the attendance of their parents. 

And yet, here she was. 

Forcing herself out of her seat, (Y/N) made her way to the copy room. Everything was going to be okay, she reminded herself, fiddling with the blunt edge of her master copies in her hands. She was going to see Harry, be so clearly and readily reminded that she was going to be his stepsister for all intents and purposes, and every affection she held for him was going to dry up. All she needed was to meet him once more, and wipe away the liquor store meeting from her head. 

Everything was going to be fine. Perfectly fine. 

As long as she somehow figured out how to mash the idea of a fancy dinner for Anne's bachelorette party with a fishing trip for Uncle Mick's bachelor counterpart. 

—————

(Y/N) scrolled to yet another page of search results. 

If she saw any more party bus and strip club ideas for a joint bachelor/bachelorette party, she was going to scream. There was no way she was going to down shots and dance on a pole around her uncle and her soon to be stepfamily. 

There wasn't a single chance that she was the first to ever plan something like this for an older couple. Someone—one of the billions in the world—would have undoubtedly come up with an idea far before her. And yet, she was on the third page of google results, and she knew if she drifted to the fourth, she was done for. 

There had to be at least something nearby that could check the boxes for both sides of the honored couple. 

She was this close to booking reservations at a restaurant that had a claw machine for diners to pick out their "lobster" (looking at photos, it appeared to just be a handful of plastic lobster figurines based off of a cartoon). If Gemma hadn't already taken on so much with her mother, including planning out many elements of the wedding itself, (Y/N) would have just short of begged her to come up with something. But, that wasn't fair. She wanted to be a good soon-to-be sister and take something off of Gemma's plate, especially since she had apparently recently welcomed her first baby. 

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) rubbed her temples. She needed to focus and make a decision. The reserved weekend was only a handful of weeks away, and she needed to get these plans finalized before it was too late. 

At her side, her phone buzzed, the vibration scaring (Y/N) out of her skin for a brief second. 

Blindly reaching, she brought her phone up, effectively blocking her laptop screen. A text message had come through. From Harry. 

     Are you busy?

She sighed, lips thinning as she debated answering. While she was busy, the idea of being distracted sounded much more fun than looking at another aquarium dining space—complete with a tab that would take her months to work off. 

    Not really why??

With that, a call came through. Also from Harry. 

(YN) clutched her phone. She'd only talked to him on the phone once, and it was brief. He'd hadn't been able to reach his mother and needed quick directions to the brunch spot he met them that first weekend. She had barely talked to him, passing along the phone to his mother in the same breath as her greeting. 

Tapping her thumb on the green circle, (Y/N) accepted the call before she could think better of herself. It was just Harry, she drilled into her head. Just Harry—a friend and nothing more. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, you," was his greeting, his accented voice flowing through the speakers in a way that almost felt offensive. How dare he answer he as if he was just as happy to hear her voice as she was for him? 

"What's going on?" she forced out, hoping it sounded a lot more casual than she felt. 

Harry let out a sigh, the sound of rustling fabric audible in the background. "Nothing jus' trying to figure out m'plans for the stag weekend. Figured I'd call you since y'have all the answers." 

His tone had been teasing, lilting through a smile. He knew she had been struggling to figure out what to plan for everyone, but she hadn't revealed just how much of a problem she was having. The last time they had even really discussed the topic was a week ago, when she felt as if she had all the time in the world to thread something together. 

Today, after looking at the calendar and the countdown to the agreed upon dates, his poking didn't feel so funny. 

"Um, yeah," she muttered, running a stressed hand down her face, "I'm figuring out everything right now, and finalizing stuff. I'll let you know for sure when I can." 

A brief pause settled between them. 

"(Y/N)," Harry started, his voice decidedly gentle compared to the teasing a moment before. "Y'alright?" 

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry," she murmured, stumbling over her thoughts. "It's just been a little bit of a long week, so I'm really tired." 

She meant to finish on a breathy laugh, lighthearted even if she didn't really feel that way.  Instead, it came off as just a little bit sad. 

"Bad week? Or jus' a lot?"

"A lot," (Y/N) sighed, "But it's alright. I think once I get everything figured out for the party, I'll be fine." 

"If y'want, I can take over some things. I can make calls or set up reservations. Whatever y'need." 

A small quirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "That would  be really nice, Harry," she started, resigning herself to telling the truth, "but, I actually haven't picked out anywhere or decided anything yet. It's a lot harder to plan something that has the vibe of a fishing trip, but served high-class food. The closest I've found is this place with a 'lobster' claw machine." 

(Y/N) didn't have to see him to know he blanched at the idea, his scoff evidence enough that he was on the same page as her. 

 "Yeah , that might not be what mum's looking for," Harry laughed. (Y/N) wished she could see his dimples. "I can take a look around too, though. It might help to have some more eyes."

Her lips thinned at the idea. She was supposed to be taking this on by herself; Gemma and Harry had enough on their plate, it didn't feel fair to pawn any more tasks off. 

"I don't know," she mumbled, "You and your sister are already don't so much, I don't want to—" 

"(Y/N), 's alright. 'S just a couple of google searches, 's not a big deal," Harry interrupted her, his voice gentle, "'M getting a little worried about you." 

He ended with a breath of laughter, though (Y/N) found it hard to buy that he wasn't sharing a little bit of honesty with her. 

With her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) blinked at her laptop screen once more. If she had to figure out how to reword "fancy fishing restaurant" one more time, she might explode. If anything, it would be nice to take a small break from attempting to make these decisions. 

"That would be nice, Harry. Thank you."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again, "See? I told you, y'needed me." 

(Y/N) didn't even attempt to argue.

—————

Through bleary eyes, (Y/N) caught the time on her phone. One in the morning. The phone call with Harry had just hit over the four hour mark. 

"But, yeah," Harry laughed, cutting himself off with a small yawn, "I don't plan on going to any of my school reunions. I don't think it'd go over very well." 

(Y/N) let out a peal of laughter, the noise quiet and tired. "I think you should; it would be very funny, at the least." 

"Maybe," he hummed, "If I don't get arrested." 

"For something that happened ten years ago? I don't know," she countered, singing the syllables, "We'll only know for sure if you go." 

"Then y'have to come with me. If I get in any trouble, 'm making it your problem." 

It could be the late hour making her delirious, or the fact that she wasn't able to convincingly lie to herself at the moment, but it felt like something to have Harry casually make those future plans with her. 

"I'll be there," she cemented through a sleepy smile. 

A pause settled between them, the sound of rustling sheets audible through the phone.

"I should let y'go, (Y/N). 'S later than I thought," he drawled, "I didn't mean to keep you up." 

"No, it's okay," she insisted, "This was nice. Thank you for helping me—and hanging out with me tonight." 

I missed you is what she wanted to say. Just barely was she able to choke the thought back. 

"You've got me, you know that," he promised, "But, all of the confirmations and everything should go to you. If you need anything though, you can send them to me, I don't mind." 

"Thanks, H," she hummed, letting her eyes fall to a close. "I'll talk to you soon?" 

"Of course—I'll probably start bothering you first thing in the morning." He spoke as if his first text message wasn't going to be the highlight of her day. 

"That'll be nice," she let slip, incredibly warm with the tufts of her bedding fluffed around her, "And I'll actually see you in a few weeks." 

"That'll be really nice," Harry said, something running under his tone she was too tired to examine, "'M excited, (Y/N)." 

"Me too," she yawned. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," Harry drawled, tongue lingering over her name, "Sleep well" 

"Goodnight, Harry," she smiled.

There was a brief moment. A pause where neither of them hung up.

(Y/N)'s breath caught, suddenly so awake compared to just a moment ago. 

Then the call cut. 

Four hours on the phone with him, leaving with sore, smiling cheeks and drooping, sleepy eyes. 

In three weeks, she would see him again for the first time in months. Everything was going to be fine—and normal. 

—————

"To mum and Mick. Congratulations." 

Flutes of champagne were raised over a white-tableclothed table, sparkling and golden. Smiling faces were shared over the setting, blushing cheeks on Anne's face with an eye-crinkling smile on Uncle Mick's. The clinking of the glasses sounded in the quiet, reserved space before being brought to smiling lips. 

A wonderful way to end dinner. 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to meet Harry's eyes across the flute. He was already looking at her, bouncing his brows when he caught her attention.

She looked away first, cheeks warming. 

"Thank you, Gem," Anne smiled, voice sing-songing over the syllables. "I love you so much, you know." 

Gemma only smiled at her mother. That was definitely the third glass of champagne beginning to talk. "I love you too, mum. Just as much." 

Anne's eyes watered, glossing the already glazed look over her irises. "Both of you," she said, looking to her children, "The best, you are. I couldn't be luckier." 

Gemma shared a sly smile with her husband at her side as Harry opened his mouth to take on his mother's emotional reaction. Only for Anne to cut him off, turning her attention to (Y/N).

"And, you," she started, folding her hands over her heart, "I couldn't be more excited to have you in my family. Thank you for everything you've done for Mick." 

Though (Y/N) thought it was a little bit funny, the slur to Anne's words and the overly affectionate way she spoke to her, but she couldn't help but to match a bit of that emotion. It was nice to hear something so loving, and know that she would be there for her Uncle Mick when (Y/N) wasn't able to. 

"Of course," she smiled, hoping no one noticed the slight sniffle of her nose, "I can't wait to be a part of your family either. I know my Uncle Mick is very lucky to have you." 

It was then that Anne broke, letting out a stream of sobs. (Y/N) watched as her Uncle had his own soft smile on his face, amused at his bride's antics though there was a matching sheen to his eyes. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, looking at the guests in attendance. 

"Tonight was very special, you guys. Thank you," he smiled, complete joy in his eyes, "I think it's time we head home." 

Gemma was quick to agree, a gentle hand on her mother's arm. "Us too," she smiled, glancing at her husband, "It's time we get back and let the sitter go home." 

When neither Harry nor (Y/N) disagreed, no one hesitated to start getting up and readying for the journey home. Jackets were donned, and eyes were wiped. While Anne was busy with her children,  her hushed voice emotional, Uncle Mick came right to (Y/N).

"Thanks, kiddo. Really," he muttered, "This was perfect—and I doubt it was easy." He cast his gaze through the bow windows encompassing this private room.

Outside, the shining lake rippled under the moonlight, dock rocking in the waves. The elegance Anne had requested came in the crown molding and clean decor, while Mick's requests came through in the dock outside and the fresh seafood from the kitchen. How (Y/N) had overlooked this place through her searches, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't sure she would have been able to do this without Harry. 

"Harry helped a lot," (Y/N) specified, beaming up at Mick, "But I'm happy you liked it. I'm happy you're happy."

Seeing the way he looked over his shoulder at his bride-to-be, (Y/N)'s heart almost burst. How truly lucky were they. The perfect movie they made. 

"Love you, kiddo," Uncle Mick murmured, wrapping her in a hug, "You going back to the hotel?" 

"Probably," she nodded, "We're still looking for your suit tomorrow, right?" 

"Yeah," her uncle sighed, not entirely excited at the idea of the outfit, but willing to do what it took to make his soon-to-be wife happy. "I'll pick you up, okay?" 

"Thank you," she smiled, giving him one more hug. "Goodnight." 

"Goodnight," he smiled, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before departing. 

Anne was passed from her daughter to her almost-husband, happily falling into his arms with loose limbs. She gave a noncommittal wave to the group following after her.

Gemma was the next to depart, hugging (Y/N) and sharing her thanks for planning this part of the evening. Harry didn't attempt to take any of the credit, only watching quietly until it was his turn to bid goodnight to his sister and brother-in-law. 

Out in the parking lot, the pavement bathed in moonlight, (Y/N) rubbed at her thinly covered arms. 

Just she and Harry were left. 

"Tonight turned out really well," Harry commented, a dimpled smile on his face, "Good job, (Y/N)." 

She shook her head. "I just confirmed everything, and you know that. Thank you for getting this all taken care of." 

Harry shrugged, shoulders lifting though he kept his eyes trained on her. It had been like this for most of the night; his undivided attention had clung to her like a second skin. He came back to her every time. The end of every conversation was punctuated by his look to her face, gauging her reaction. It was thrilling, though the thrill was tempered from the fact that she knew she wasn't supposed to keen under his attention like that.

Looking out towards the water that had set the scene for the evening, (Y/N) could feel his eyes on her. She felt a bit crazy, her skin prickling under his attention. There was a large part of her that dreaded the fact that she had to head back to her hotel alone now. They'd barely had time to speak to one another as a group, let alone on their own. She doubted they would have a chance like this again for the rest of the weekend. 

Harry was her family now. Maybe some extra time with him was all she needed to officially understand that. Overwrite those previous flirty memories of him with something much more appropriate. 

That was why she wanted to keep the night going. That was why she opened her mouth, question on the tip of her tongue. 

"Did you..." (Y/N) started, carefully picking her words as she kept her gaze out on the lake, "Are you tired?" 

She could cringe at the sound of her voice tripping over her question.  

"Not really," he drawled, smile audible in his voice, "Are you?" 

"Not really," she repeated, daring to match his gaze. Her skin warmed when she caught him with his eyes already engaged on her. With the moon above draining the world of color around them, his eyes somehow still acted as a beacon, the green rippling like the lake. "Do you want to get a drink, or something?" 

His dimples were cast in shadow, denting his cheeks as his grin grew. "I think I saw a bar not too far from here when I booked this, if y'don't mind walking." 

While her dress didn't exactly agree with the weather, the chilly breeze kicking up the hem and casting goosebumps over her skin, there wasn't a single part of her that could find a reason to decline. 

"Lead the way." 

—————

"After you." 

Harry opened the door with a flourish, bending at the waist as he gestured (Y/N) through the doorway. It was entirely too dramatic, especially for the kind of bar he had taken her to. A peal of laughter left her lips.

The inside of the bar was much warmer than the chilly air outside, enough so that even with the thin jacket on her arms, (Y/N) started to sweat. After Harry entered behind her, the door closed, sealing behind them. 

The nautical bar was a drastic change to the restaurant they had just left. 

Fishing nets were strewn over the ceiling, filled with weather torn life-preservers, various starfish, oysters and clam shells. Sparkling pearls were dotted throughout. The walls were decorated with different portraits depicting sea-faring legends and the glorious ships they sailed. Creaky floorboards sounded under their feet, the lumber matching that that boarded up the walls and made the majority of the round tables of the bar. The bartop itself was a candy apple-red, sleek and only a little scuffed. The mirrored back wall of the bar was lined with liquor, reflected int the low light of the establishment, only a single bartender fixing drinks for people (Y/N) had no doubt were a mix of regulars, and people like she and Harry who were just looking for a drink after touring through the area. 

When a gentle hand landed on her back, ushering her forward, (Y/N) stiffened. Blinking behind her, she knew the touch came from Harry, though it still had her throat running dry just to see that it was, in fact, him looking out for her.

He cast his eyes around them as they slowly approached the bar, the whining floorboards louder than his voice, "'S a little different than the pictures online." 

"Yeah?" she smiled, following his eyes to the portrait of a fishing captain with a sopping beard and hardened eyes. Truthfully, (Y/N) worried that if she looked away and then glanced back at the painting, a skeleton or ghoul would be in his place. "I can't believe that." 

Harry let out a breathy laugh at her joke. Stepping to the bar, he didn't build upon their teasing, instead, pulling one of the vinyl stools out for (Y/N) to sit. Taking the proffered seat, she pretended to study the liquor bottles behind the bar instead of just how close Harry was now that he took the spot at her side. Especially when he settled in with his legs spreading, his knee touching hers. 

 "You kno—" 

"What can I get you two?" 

The gruff voice of the bartender cut Harry off unceremoniously, his tired eyes flicking between the two of them impatiently. 

"(Y/N)?" Harry murmured, letting her go first as if she was going to be able to concentrate when she heard the syllables of her name wrapped in his voice. 

"Um," she stumbled, looking at the bottles behind the barkeep as if it were a menu, "A—uh—a cosmo? Or just a vodka cranberry? Something like that." 

The bartender bounced his brows as he grunted. He must not have liked (Y/N)'s answer as much as she didn't. Harry's order went much smoother, even if he did have to wipe the sly smile off of his lips as he asked for a whiskey, neat. 

As soon as the man who could have easily been the subject of one of the paintings left them be as he started their drinks, (Y/N) hung her head in her hands. "Oh my god," she quietly groaned. 

Harry nudged her with his shoulder, ducking his head to conspire with her though she didn't really feel like he was on her side given the way he had to bite back his amusement. "It wasn't that bad." 

"Yes it was," she laughed, "I thought he was going to ID me and think it was a fake." 

He shrugged. "We've got time." 

(Y/N) let out a laugh, feeling a little less embarrassed as she turned to look at him, cheek cushioned by her hand. It was quite the feeling, to know that they really did have time. At least for tonight (after their parents joint bachelor/rette parties, of course). Then, she would come to her senses, and live the rest of her life with Harry as her legal sibling. 

"Right. We've got time." 

—————

"Harryyy."

"Yes?" 

"Harryyy."

"Yes, (Y/N)?"

"Harryyy—" 

Putting his hand out, Harry stopped her from spinning on her stool. (Y/N)'s singsong voice stopped right in its tracks when she saw him, warmth creeping up her neck, though she doubted it was from the alcohol. Even if there was a lot of that in her system. 

"What, (Y/N)?" he laughed, craning his neck as he crowded around her. 

"Do you think they'd let me do karaoke, even if there isn't a stage?" 

Another bright laugh left Harry's lips at her words. "I think there might be a little more missing than jus' the stage, but 'm sure we can work something out. You've got to ask first, though." 

Giving a slight incline of his head, (Y/N) followed to see him gesturing to the bartender. The one person in the whole room she was sure would immediately shoot down her idea. As if it wasn't a fun one. 

"H, you know he's going to say no." 

"I don't know," Harry crooned, "Y'should probably ask. He might like karaoke, too." 

A light could have pinged over her head. He really could like karaoke, he's just shy about it. It would only take a little bit of convincing, maybe even a song or two, and he'd be so on board. Should she start with a ballad or a—

(Y/N) felt someone crowd around her, static running down her back. Harry looked over her head, lips thinning. 

"Hey stranger." 

Blanching at the greeting, (Y/N) whipped her head around. Behind her was a vaguely familiar face. She couldn't place the name, but she knew this man. Even if he was a bit harder to recognize out of uniform.

And acting way more familiar than a waiter should. 

"Hi," (Y/N) answered with an owlish blink. 

The man paused, as if waiting for something more to come out of her mouth. Nothing did. 

He let out an awkward laugh, thrown off by her lack of response. "Wedding things over for the night?" 

Behind her, she could hear Harry shifting over his seat. Just that much closer to her, his knee brushing against hers. 

"For tonight, yeah," he answered for her, "Jus' getting a couple of drinks before going back home." 

The man hummed, nodding his head. He didn't pay much attention to Harry, only looking at him for as long as it took him to finish his words before he was stitching his eyes back to (Y/N). 

"You should've told me you were looking to go out tonight. I could have shown you the good spots." 

It was a bit childish the way she pouted at him. "This place is good," she countered. 

She wasn't going to let him speak bad about this place. Harry picked it and she was having fun. 

"Well yeah, but," he started, "There's a couple of other places that look a little more your speed."

"I'm having fun here," she insisted, reaching blindly back towards Harry, "He picked it. I like it." 

It was odd the way he looked at her. The way he followed her hand as she found his leg. He looked through her, searching for something more. 

"Aren't you..." he started voice trailing off before Harry stepped in. 

"I think we're alright for now, man," Harry said, "I think we're gonna head home soon, anyway." 

Whatever this man had been looking for before had been pushed to the wayside. Something a little too fast flash through his eyes for her to decipher, though the brown of his irises lacked some of the flirty warmth from before.

He decidedly ignored Harry, looking towards (Y/N) as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. 

"Let me buy you a drink at least," he charmed, dipping his head until he was level with her. "I can't lie, I was hoping that dinner wasn't the only time I'd see you." 

(Y/N) blinked. She opened her mouth to say something disjointed and a little too drunk back, only for Harry to pipe up.

"I think we're alright; the tip we left earlier should have been enough. Thanks." 

His hand landed gently upon her own where it sat on the cuff of his knee, warming her skin.

That searching look was back on the man's face, gaze locked on their hands. 

"I thought... Isn't she your sister?" the man blanched, scoffing. 

"Actually," (Y/N) hiccuped, "I'm his stepsister. But, not even that, if you want to get specific. His mom is marrying my uncle, so it's, like, legally even less than that." 

(Y/N)'s bubbling didn't make much sense, but it didn't appear that this man was listening anyway. He only looked towards Harry, as if he was the one that was attempting to argue these details. A frown tipped her lips.  

"We're alright, mate." 

The man paused for a moment. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, "Weird," before stalking away. 

Her brows knitted together as she watched him leave to haunt a different corner of the bar, a group of people she hadn't noticed before welcoming him in with conspiratorial glances and whispered voices. 

"Sorry," Harry muttered behind her, causing her to whirl on the stool to face him, "I should have asked if you..." 

She canted her head at him. She was too drunk for things to not be spelled out. "What?" 

He let out a short laugh, dropping his gaze from hers as he knuckled at his nose. "I... Did y'want to talk to him? I didn't mean to get involved if y'were..." 

"No," (Y/N) shook her head, "He was being annoying. Was he from the restaurant?" 

There was a line holding Harry's shoulders that seemingly was cut loose then, dropping the lines of his body into something much more relaxed. "He was, yeah. Can't remember his name, though." 

"Me neither!" she blurted, reaching towards him with her hands landing on his shoulders, "I thought I was just really drunk, so that's nice to—"

As if on command, she suddenly stumbled from her stool, falling into him with a gasp. Harry didn't hesitate before his hands landed on her waist, steadying her with a tight grip. Her heart bounced around her chest as she came down from. Looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, she saw him already watching her, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

"Y'alright?" he asked, a pinch between his brows. 

"Yeah, sorry," she answered, simply, melting into him despite being more than capable of settling into her own spot once more. He was too comfortable, too warm, too everything she had been thinking about for months now to move on. And she was too tipsy to know better. "Thanks for catching me." 

With her cheek pressed against his chest, Harry's hold on her shifted until he had his arm around her middle. The other waved down the bartender. 

"I think 's time we get y'home, love." 

"No," she whined, "We just got here." 

The laugh he let out rumbled underneath her cheek, warming her further from the sound alone. "Maybe a few hours ago. You've got a big day tomorrow anyway, y'need to sleep." 

"Maybe," she sighed, eyes fluttering to a close as Harry handled their tab. "Are you coming tomorrow? For the suits?" 

"No," he murmured distractedly, "'M going home tomorrow, remember?"

"But you just got here," she argued, suddenly offended at the idea of airports and planes and flight times. What was the point of any of that if that meant Harry would be miles and miles away from her again? 

"I know," he smiled, standing from his spot with a guiding hand on her back, "But we'll see each other again soon, okay? I'll make sure of it." 

She didn't doubt his promise. If Harry wanted to see her, he would make it happen. 

(Y/N) could only stare at him with stars in her eyes, warmth simmering under her skin. 

They had time, she reminded herself. Even if just tonight. 

—————

"C'mon, (Y/N). Gotta help me, love." 

"Okay." 

"Love, you've gotta stand up on your own for a second, 'kay? Jus' until I get the door open, then I can help y'again." 

"Okay." 

"(Y/N)." 

"Hm?" 

Harry sighed, the curve of his lips audible. Looping his arm tightly around her waist, he continued attempting to get the keycard to her hotel room to work, all while she clung to him, almost sliding down his body now that he wasn't devoting all of his attention to steadying her. 

She was too tired. How could he expect her to stand up on her own when she was so tired she almost fell asleep on the way here? It was unrealistic. Especially when he was offering his body as her crutch; he was warm like a blanket, firm yet forgiving at the same time. The perfect kind of pillow. 

A faint technological beep came from behind her. Harry fiddled around for a moment before he was clutching her again. 

"C'mon," he murmured through an amused smile, guiding her inside though she didn't bother to turn around and face forward with her steps. Instead, she let Harry do the heavy lifting, getting her through the threshold and letting the lumbering door click to a close behind them. 

Her hotel room was small and rudimentally furnished, stiff carpet under their feet. When she had checked in, she hadn't thought much of the space. Now, through bleary eyes with Harry holding her so carefully, it was the prettiest, coziest, most comforting place she'd ever come to spend the night in. 

Her clothing was still strewn out of her opened suitcase, the lamp on the side of her bed turned on with the television streaming the default channel for the hotel. A normal, sober part of herself would have felt a bit embarrassed at the sight of her panties hanging out of her luggage, knowing Harry would no doubt spot it. But, she wasn't normal or sober. She was drunk and clinging to Harry like a lifeline. 

"There we go," Harry mumbled, depositing her on the edge of her bed. He stood before her, running a hand through his hair. "Y'gonna be alright?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, looking up at him with what she was sure were hearts in her eyes, "Are you?" 

Harry laughed. His smile, dimples and all, was more intoxicating than any mixed drink could hope to be. "I think I'll be alright, (Y/N)." 

She canted her head as she looked up at him, taking in the rumpled collar of his white shirt, now sporting a smudge of her pink lipstick. "Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" 

His lips thinned as he gazed down at her. "Yeah. I do." 

Her lips puffed into a pout, wandering hands reaching for the hem of his shirt. "When am I going to see you again, then?"

"I don't know," he answered, lips into a lopsided smile, "Before the wedding, hopefully?" 

"Just hopefully?" she whined, using her grip on his shirt to tug him down until he was forced to flop onto the mattress at her side. "I thought we'd see each other more when we found out... everything." 

Harry only let out a heavy sigh. His eyes glanced around her face, searching through the planes of her features. "I know." 

(Y/N) laid back on her bed, suddenly hit with a weight that she had avoided thinking about for the last few hours. She could feel Harry's eyes following her.

"I don't want to be mean," she said, speaking quietly in the empty of the hotel room, "But it kind of sucks, right?" 

A beat passed. 

"What do y'mean?" His voice was strained. She didn't need to look at him to know that he knew what she meant. 

"Like," she started, matching his gaze, "You know. Everything. I'm happy for them, but... We get along so well, you know? At least I think we do." 

A small quirk tugged at his lips. A sad curl. "We do, don't we?" 

"I think we would have had a lot of fun," she smiled, biting back a yawn. 

"Aren't we already?" he asked, falling back to lay beside her. 

This close, (Y/N) was able to see the details that had made her heart race all those months ago. The shatters of green in his irises. The sprinkle of freckles along his nose. The scar on his chin. The uneven stubble shadowing his cheeks. 

"Yeah," she exhaled, tone dreamy. She reached for him, her fingers grazing over the warmth of his cheek. "I just—I thought, when we met...I thought it would be different for us." 

Harry didn't say anything. His eyes fluttered closed as she touched his face, fingertips grazing over the lines of his features. Touching his cupid's bow had her heart hammering in her chest.

"Didn't you?" 

When Harry blinked his eyes open, he matched her gaze unabashedly. "I did." 

Reaching up to grab her hand, he laced their fingers together and pulled the bundled limbs to his chest. "But, we're alright like this, don't y'think?" he murmured, that sad smile back on his face, "At least we never had a chance to mess anything up." 

She knew he was attempting to spin her thoughts into something hopeful. That they would be happy and partners in crime together like this for the rest of their lives. And it would be okay. There would never be a need or even a thought for anything more. 

But, all that stood out to her was that they never had a chance. 

(Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth, a well of emotion crashing behind her ribs. "We never had a chance." 

"Oh, (Y/N)," he crooned, collecting her in his arms until her cheek was cushioned in his neck and his arms were a comforting cage around her waist. 

She melted into him, reveling in the warmth of his hold and the blocks of muscle making up his body. There was so much softness to him, with the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her. So much she could have gotten to know, she thought. There were always going to be parts of him that she wouldn't know.

"I miss you already," she whispered. 

"You know I've got you, love. 'M always here." 

"Not in the way I want." 

It was bravery in the form of alcohol and the lack of eyes on her face that made it so easy for the words to slip out. Though it didn't feel so right when his hands on her back paused. 

It felt even worse when he started disentangling himself from her hold, the phantom of his arms lingering around him. He slowed when he caught her eye, his own a bit sad to match the own on his lips. 

"I know," he whispered, "Me too, (Y/N). But, we're going to be alright. Like this, we're going to be okay." 

She didn't stop him when he left her hotel room, the door clicking behind him. He will be on a flight tomorrow, leaving her once more.

Hopefully, he had said, that they would see one another before the wedding. Though, in the silence of the suite, (Y/N) didn't have to be sober to know she had been a mistake, speaking so blatantly. The hope he had shared that they would see each other again before the wedding was no doubt diminished. 

Blinking up at the texture of the ceiling, she sighed. 

What the fuck had she done?

—————

"My uncle said he can pick me up from the airport, so that should be fine." 

"Good, good," Gemma mumbled, "And you're staying with me and my mum or did you want your own space for the week?" 

"I mean," (Y/N) mused, "I was going to leave it up to you guys. I can get a room somewhere if you want family time, or whatever you want." 

"Well, you are family now, (Y/N). You're more than welcome to stay with us. I know my mum would enjoy getting to spend time with you." 

(Y/N) wanted so badly to glow at the thought of being welcomed into a family like the Styles'. She had wished for years that she would somehow find out she had a long-lost sister or any sibling at all to spend her days with. 

Instead, she was grateful this was only a phone call, so Gemma didn't catch the way her lips tightened at the idea of being considered family to someone she had attempted to kiss the night of her uncle's bachelor dinner. 

And been promptly rejected by, of course. 

But, she was over all of that, she reminded herself. Just like Harry was. 

"I think that would be a lot of fun, Gemma. Thank you," she accepted in a way she hoped was gracious. 

"Mum's going to be so excited to hear that," Gemma bubbled, "That works out perfect, too, since I think Harry and Michel are going to stay with your uncle for the week. Keep up the whole tradition thing, everyone all separate." 

(Y/N)'s lips pinched that much more at the mention of his name. She could still feel the way the emptiness of her hotel room settled over her when he had left. Nothing was more sobering than that, she found.

"Yeah," (Y/N) chirped, "It's cute."

Gemma let out a bubbly laugh, "Exactly. Okay, so I'll get with mum and figure out all of the little things we still need to do before the wedding, and I'll let you know as soon as I know!"

"So exciting! I can't wait." There was a part that really was very excited and was looking forward to seeing her Uncle Mick get married, eager for him to be happy again after experiencing so much grief the years prior. There was another large part of her that could wait a little longer; wait a few more months, or even a year before she saw Harry again. At least long enough for her to have forgotten that night at the bar, and have a new boyfriend. 

Gemma chattered a bit more, thinking out loud as she ticked things off her list. (Y/N) was fine being her sounding board, nodding and humming where needed before sharing a quick goodbye. 

Locking her phone, (Y/N) was left in the quiet of her apartment. It was a little too close to the silence at the hotel room, the experience at the forefront of her mind. 

Pursing her lips, she gripped the edge of her countertop. She was going to see Harry again, in just a couple of weeks. 

Should she text him? Attempt to clear the air before even seeing him? 

No, it was bad enough that she had scared him off, she couldn't be the one to reach out first. Months after, even. If he wanted to talk to her, he would have by now—even if only to clear the air. 

It was times like this that she wished she had siblings. If she had a brother or a sister, she wouldn't be walking into this whole thing by herself. Despite her Uncle being there, his wedding wasn't exactly the setting to let him know that she'd attempted to go out with his new wife's son—the one that would be her stepbrother for all intents and purposes.

Legally, though, she corrected herself. Stepcousins.

(Y/N) sighed. That still didn't sound very good, especially not when she usually just considered her uncle her dad, no matter what she called him. 

Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. (Y/N) flinched back at the noise before reaching for the device. 

On the screen she had a single notification. A text message from a friend. 

Mitchell Row-Lund

     How was the phone call? Do you have to room with that guy? 

Staring at the message thread, an idea came to mind. It wasn't a good one. (Y/N) could even field an argument about how it is actually a stupid idea. But it was an idea, nonetheless.

Gemma did say she still had a plus one available. And, it wasn't like Mitch had anything going on, she knew that for a fact.

Plus, he knew some of what was going on with Harry, sans many details, but enough to understand why it was a very big deal that she couldn't go into this alone. Uncle Mick would enjoy seeing him too. 

Ignoring the text, (Y/N) called Mitch's contact instead. It only took a couple of rings before he picked up. 

"Hello?" 

"Mitch, are you busy in, like, three weeks?" 

"(Y/N)..." 

—————

"Are you sure you girls don't need help with anything?" 

Gemma whipped around from the stove where she was spreading the different layers to the lasagna. She gave her mother a glare. 

"Mum," she reprimanded, "We're fine. You're supposed to be relaxing." 

"I know, I know," she sighed, "But, I don't mind helping. I can—" 

"No," Gemma cut her off, abandoning her post at the stove to escort her mother back to the glass of chardonnay waiting for her in the living room. "Your only job is to answer the door when the boys get here, and watch your show." 

Anne hmphed, casting a playful roll of her eyes only where (Y/N) could see. A huff of laughter left her lips as she watched the mother-daughter duo argue before Anne relented to actually being taken care of for the night. It was sweet, the kind of banter and familiarity they had between one another. It reminded (Y/N) of the relationship she had with her aunt. It was nice to know that her Uncle was marrying into a family like this. 

"When will she learn?" Gemma joked when she reentered the kitchen, casting a very familiar roll of her eyes towards (Y/N). "It's like pulling teeth to get her to relax." 

"She's too sweet for her own good," (Y/N) said, continuing the chopping of the vegetables for the side salad. 

"Her biggest flaw," Gemma sighed, shaking her head. 

"I can hear you!" 

Anne's shout from the living room drew laughter from both of them. 

"Then what did I say?" Gemma shot back, giving (Y/N) a look like watch this.

A pause. 

"I don't know, but I know you're whispering!" 

Gemma lifted her brows like see. It was enough to pull another peal of laughter from her. It was already shaping up to be quite the night. The last one before the wedding, before Mitch would be in town and the first time she would be forced to speak in a confined room with Harry since arriving. 

She had been lucky enough to avoid being alone with him, the activities and rooms having been too busy to catch more than a single glance of him before rushing through. It was the nice part about Anne and Uncle Mick wanting to uphold a bit of tradition, the bridal party and groomsmen being separated as much as possible during this last week. 

(As far as (Y/N) remembered, she thought it was only the night before the ceremony where this distance mattered. She wasn't going to correct anyone, though).

But, tonight had come and her sanctuary was on a timer.

In Anne's cozy dining room, there was nowhere to hide from Harry. Especially not when this evening was considered a family dinner. 

(Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth as she kept her eyes on her hands, attempting to focus on the strokes of the knife and not anything else. Especially not the time. 

That did seem to work against her, though, when the knock on the door took her by surprise. She hadn't had time to brace herself, school herself into someone who didn't care about whatever happened tonight. 

Her throat bobbed when she heard the sound of Anne's front door opening, a familiar set of voices sounding from the stoop. 

Gemma practically beamed as she slid the pan of lasagna into the oven before rushing out to meet her husband, who also had her daughter on his hip. (Y/N) lingered back, listening to the sounds of the stitched together family. 

This time tomorrow, her uncle would be married and she would have two new siblings. One of them being the man she could hear right now cooing to his niece. 

Wiping down the knife and placing it off to the side, (YN) ran a stressed hand through her hair. Seeing her uncle would make her feel better, she thought. She'd start there. 

"Hey kid," her uncle murmured when he caught sight of her. His creased eyes lit up as she stepped into his hug. "How are you?" 

"I'm good," she smiled, making sure her eyes stayed stitched on his face with not even a peek over his shoulder, "How are you, though? Tomorrow's the day." 

(Y/N) could see light practically dancing through his eyes when he cast his own gaze behind himself, where the cooing of a baby and her fawning audience could be heard. "Excited. Really excited." 

"Good, good," (Y/N) smiled, suddenly feeling a bit choked up. She wondered if this was how he was going to feel when she had her own wedding (fingers crossed, anyway. She needed to find a partner first before considering a wedding.)

"The lasagna has a few more minutes in the oven, but (Y/N)'s salad is almost done. Harry, you can set the table." 

Perking up at the sound of her name, (Y/N) regretted it as soon as she heard Harry's only a moment later. Gemma was playing the role of gracious hostess, though it didn't appear she could turn down the opportunity of bossing her little brother around. 

Though, it didn't seem like he minded much at all. Harry only gave a beaming grin to his niece before poking at her stomach and making his way towards the dining room.

For the first time since walking through the door, their eyes met. 

(Y/N) felt her throat run dry. The last time she saw those shatters of green, the intensity of his gaze turned in her direction, he had been telling her that there wasn't any room for what she wanted with him. That they were going to be okay—whatever that was supposed to mean. 

All after she had so clumsily fallen all over him, even attempting to kiss him.

Harry only cracked a small, polite smile. Not a single dimple or crease on his freckled nose appeared. 

"You made a salad tonight?" Uncle Mick asked her, ripping her back to reality, "And you still have all your fingers?"

Turning to face him, (Y/N) plastered a smile on her face, playing into his small joke. "Barely. Gemma had to sew my pinky back on, but I think it should be better by tomorrow." 

Her uncle let out a boisterous laugh at her jest, none the wiser to whatever had passed between her and Harry only a breath before. 

This was going to be a long dinner.

—————

"Dinner was wonderful, ladies. Thank you." 

Uncle Mick handed out praises to the women at the table, though Anne was quick to shrug it off. 

"It was all the two girls," she insisted, "I was quarantined to wine-and-couch duties." 

(Y/N) didn't have to peek under the table to know that her uncle had squeezed his bride's hand. All she needed to see was the affection that painted his gaze as he looked at her. "Well deserved," he muttered to her before looking to where (Y/N) and Gemma were sitting side-by-side, "Thank you two, then. Everything has been amazing." 

Gemma gave a similar reaction to her mother, shrugging it off with a shy smile on her face. "Of course. It's the least we could do for the happy couple, right?" 

She gave a look to (Y/N) the shadow of dimples in her cheeks. Too much like Harry, (Y/N) thought. She still made sure to nod and smile along. 

"I'm happy everyone liked it," (Y/N) interjected, hoping she sounded more present than she really felt. Especially when she could feel eyes on her—eyes she had been pointedly avoiding all throughout the meal. 

Anne stood up, beginning to collect dishes from the mats around the table. "I can start cleaning up, and—" 

"Mum, no. I thought Gemma told you that you're not supposed to be doing any hard work tonight." 

Harry's clear voice had (Y/N) blinking, her spine stiffening as she kept her eyes on her soon-to-be aunt. 

She scoffed at his words. "Doing the dishes in my own home is far from hard work, Harry. You kids—" 

"Anne," Uncle Mick piped up, a gentle hand landing on her arm, "Let them take care of this. There's still some time before I think we call it a night, and there's wine still in the bottle." 

(Y/N) watched as Anne's eyes softened, features flourishing into a gentle smile. 

"Oh alright," she relented, "Just for tonight. And, maybe tomorrow." 

That was (Y/N)'s cue to begin collecting the dishes herself. Gemma had done the hard work by putting together the main part of the meal, and deserved a moment with her child and husband. Besides, the quiet of the kitchen and task of taking care of the dishes was what she needed after being on edge during dinner. 

"I've got it, then," she offered, beaming a smile to her Uncle, "You guys go relax for a little while." 

Arms laden with china and silverware, (Y/N) took to the kitchen while the rest of the family moved onto the other room. A heavy breath left her lips. 

She fixed her eyes to the faucet as the sink filled with warm water, soap bubbles forming on the surface. 

Truthfully, she knew there wasn't any reason to be so nervous, so stiff, all night. It wasn't like Harry was going to speak about that night out in the open—if he wanted his family to know, he'd had months to expose the facts before now. But, he hadn't. 

It was a bit pathetic to admit given the fact they had never even so much as kissed, but seeing him felt a lot like running into an ex. Embarrassing, seeing as he had seen her more vulnerable than she felt comfortable showing. Nerve-wracking, as she wasn't sure what kind of reaction she was going to get from him. And a bit heartbreaking; it was hard to see him knowing there was such a definitive line in the sand. 

As if there wasn't always one there, (Y/N) reminded herself. The second they made it to her uncle's house that night, there was always goin to be a barrier between them. 

Flicking off the faucet, she got to work cleaning off the dishes. From the living room, she could hear quiet coos from a sleepy baby, and slight laughter amongst a family sharing memories. 

That was enough to have the line holding her shoulders taut to give. A family. Everything her uncle deserved. 

"Want help?" 

(Y/N) practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of the deep, accented voice suddenly joining her in the space.

 Whipping her head around, she saw Harry lingering in the threshold of the entrance to the kitchen. He had a short smile on his lips, the ghost of dimples in his cheeks. 

Not a real smile. Something polite to be offered to someone he didn't really care to be talking to. 

"No, I'm alright,"(Y/N) answered, just as tight. "Thanks, though." 

"Are y'sure?" he pressed, taking a cautious step inside the barrier of the tiles, "I could dry while y'wash. It'll cut the time in half, or something like that." 

She let out a huff of laughter at his attempt to lighten the mood. She was sure she wasn't the only one feeling a touch of the tension that had gathered. 

She figured she couldn't really continue to avoid him forever. 

"If you really want to," she relented, letting a genuine, though small, smile curl her lips. 

Harry took her words as the invitation needed, crossing the room to join her at the sink. The damp dishes had begun to accumulate on the towel she had laid out at her side. He moved with familiarity through his childhood home, finding another dish towel before pushing up the sleeves of his warm brown sweater. 

Just like the first time she had met him, (Y/N) couldn't help but trace her eyes over the cross tattooed on his hand. Seeing the sleeves of his shirt pushed up, she got a view of what she remembered wondering hid between that cloud-cardigan those months ago. 

A bare-chested mermaid. A nightmarish beetle. A collection of tiny sketches around an anchor at his wrist. 

"So," he started, wiping off the first dish in the pile, "I've barely gotten a chance to talk to y'since we've got here. How have y'been?"

She nodded absently, swiftly turning her gaze to the soapy basin. "I've been alright. Just busy getting the final details figured out with your mom and sister. How about you?" 

"Same," he murmured, "'S all gone by so fast. I can't believe 's already tomorrow. I feel like we were jus' meeting for the first time." 

He meant for the comment to be something lighthearted. They could bond over the passage of time, right? It was easy to nod her head and laugh, tell him that yes, everything had gone by so fast. But she was excited, nonetheless. That his mother was a wonderful person and she couldn't wait to welcome her into their small family. 

Instead, (Y/N) was only able to manage a small smile. 

"Yeah. Crazy." 

Crazy that it really had only been months since she met Harry while perusing wine for her uncle, thinking he was just a handsome stranger. Someone she could see herself going on a date with. 

Now, he was going to be as good as her stepbrother. The revelation left a sour taste in her mouth. 

A beat passed. 

"(Y/N)," Harry started, one of his rings clinking against the plate in his hand, "If y'want to talk about—"

She shook her head. She didn't need to revisit that night. Especially not right now, while washing his mother's dishes in her sink. 

"I don't," she insisted, "Sorry if I'm being weird. I just... I was worried I had scared you off or something, since we haven't talked. But, I'm fine, really." 

"You didn't. Scare me off, I mean," Harry answered, the words coming out in a rush as if a reflex. The pile of damp dishes were forgotten for the moment as he turned his attention to her. "I jus' wanted sure if y'wanted to talk to me after... everything."

"Don't worry about it," she answered, sidestepping just how much she wanted to hear anything from him in the time that had passed since the night at the bar. That she wanted to know if he still even tolerated her. "Everything got a little complicated, so it's probably best we didn't—don't. You know?" 

Harry's expression seemed to solidify at her words. Unmoving, unchanging, though something seemed to leave from his eyes. 

"Yeah," he agreed, a single nod of his head. He waved the cloth in her direction, nonchalant. "We've got a while to figure everything out as long as tomorrow goes well, right?" 

"Right," (Y/N) laughed, a little less rigid. While it wasn't the outcome she may have wanted (that was one where he came in on a flying steed, hearts in his eyes, and unwavering conviction in his feelings for her. Or at least trying it out with her), it was the best outcome she could have predicted. 

They finished the dishes in silence.

—————

(Y/N) clapped, tears in her eyes as she watched her uncle plant a kiss on his blushing bride. The white of her gauzy dress made Anne's skin glow that much brighter, sweet pink and a warm bronze. 

They were now man and wife as the officiant announced, allowing them on their way. 

Falling back into her role as dutiful bridesmaid, she followed after Gemma as the procession to the reception began. Glancing at Mitch, she caught him biting back a smile. She knew he would have something to say about her sobbing two seconds into the ceremony. 

Getting out of the chilly garden and into the reception venue was a needed transition. (Y/N) hadn't even realized her fingers were turning to icicles until the heat from the hall wrapped around her. 

It was quiet in the space. Only a select few of the venue staff milling about as they made the finishing touches on the reception space, and a newly knitted family were present. Much like herself, Gemma had tiny tears in her eyes as she reached for her daughter from her husband's hip. Harry had his mother wrapped up in a long hug.

It was her uncle that brought her attention away from the embrace. He murmured something to her, the words a bit garbled through his thick throat before he had her in his arms. 

(Y/N) didn't hesitate before she was reciprocating the hold. She tucked herself against his chest, feeling just as safe as the day he had told her that she was going to be taken care of now that he was there. The memory only made her snuggle that much closer to him. 

"Congratulations, dad," she whispered, choking up hearing the title she only rarely used. She knew it had the same effect on him when he clutched her tighter, a shuddering breath wracking his chest. 

"Thanks for being here, kiddo. Love you." 

"Love you, too." 

All too soon, her uncle was whisked away to take photos with his bride, the photographer eager to capture the moments with that blissful glow on their faces. Family shots had been taken prior to the ceremony, when everyone's makeup and hair were in perfect condition, leaving (Y/N) a moment alone for the first time that day. 

It wasn't until she was putting on her false lashes that she had heard Harry had brought a date. She knew that there was no reason to have any kind of reaction to that revelation, especially since she had also invited Mitch. And yet, there was still that sour, churning feeling in her stomach.

While it wasn't a thought she nurtured or had the guts to admit, there had been a lingering hope in her that maybe, with everything twisted up and complicated, that there could be something worked out. That Harry was so unhappy with the distance as she was. 

But, he had brought a date. Someone serious enough to invite to a family wedding, though not serious enough to mention to her when they were washing the dishes the night before. 

That was fine. He could do whatever he wanted, just as (Y/N) was doing. 

And neither of them were going to be heartbroken. Least of all (Y/N).

—————

"Are you sure that's his date?" 

(Y/N) only grumbled through her spoonful of gelato. That counted as the third time Mitch had questioned Harry's choice of plus one. And the third time (Y/N) thought she made it abundantly clear that she wasn't interested in speaking on the details of the coupling. It was bad enough explaining to everyone that Mitch was just a friend instead of a boyfriend, he didn't also have to rub it in that Harry had brought a real date. 

"(Y/N), don't get mad at me," Mitch warned, casting his eyes over her head towards the dance floor, "I'm just asking. Because he's barely talked to her all night." 

"Well, that's rude of him, then," (Y/N) cemented, taking another bite of her birthday cake gelato. This dessert had been Gemma's idea—about the same cost as a cake, but many more people could eat from the bar and there wouldn't be a handful of leftover slices that the family would be forced to take home. 

"Will you still think that if I tell you it's been because he's too busy looking at you?" 

She glared at Mitch through furrowed brows. "Right." 

"I'm serious," he hedged, bouncing his brows before tipping his head towards her, urging her to look at her back. "If you turn around right now, you'll see." 

"Just because he's looking at me, doesn't mean anything. He's my brother now, Mitch." 

Reaching for his drink, Mitch didn't look very believing in the story she was spinning. "I would be a little nervous if I had a brother look at me the way he is right now."

 "What does that mean?" 

He knew he had her then, a crooked smile on his lips. "Look for yourself." 

Giving in, (Y/N) pretending to stretch in her spot. She pasted an easy smile on her face as she nonchalantly turned to look over her shoulder. 

There, on the dance floor, with his niece on his hip, Harry's cheeks flushed. He quickly looked away, having been caught by (Y/N) as he gazed at her. His date was fluttering around, speaking to Gemma and her husband with an easy smile on her face. She was familiar with the family—more familiar than (Y/N) would think a new girlfriend would be. 

But, that wasn't any of her business. 

Turning back to Mitch, she attempted to look as if nothing she saw had even sparked a train of thought in her mind. 

"That doesn't mean anything." 

"Right," he drawled, sly smile on his face. "And, he's not coming over here, right now." 

"What?" (Y/N) bubbled, suddenly at attention. Her cup of gelato created in her tightened grip. Whipping her head around, she stopped in her tracks, expression dropping. No one was walking over to their table—let alone Harry. 

A burst of laughter came from her date. 

"That wasn't nice," she said, fighting back her own laughter. Truthfully, while it was pathetic how easy it was to get her to react, she knew if the tables were turned, she wouldn't be able to contain her giggles at Mitch's desperation. 

He shrugged. "It was funny, though." He took a long sip of his drink, ice clinking together. "If you're so jumpy, I don't know why you haven't gone to talk to him at all." 

"Mitch," (Y/N) started, finally abandoning the remnants of her gelato, "It's just not the right time. You already know everything, so." 

"So what? He obviously wants to at least talk to you. Just put him out of his misery." 

(Y/N) shook her head. "Even if things weren't complicated, he brought a date, Mitch. I don't think he's really dying for my company." 

"So?" he repeated, raising his brows, "You brought a date, too. And it's me." 

She could only roll her lips between her teeth. She wasn't going to examine the point he was making. 

"I'm going to get a drink." 

—————

(Y/N) felt entirely too accomplished when Gemma's daughter burst into another round of laughter at the shapes she was throwing on the dance floor. It was easy to make her laugh now that she knew what made the little girl giggle, but it still felt like an all star achievement every time a bubbling peal left her heart-shaped lips. 

"Auntie (Y/N) is just so silly, isn't she?" Gemma babbled to her daughter, equally delighted to hear her having so much fun. The later the night went, the more and more of a miracle it was that she hadn't grown fussy and in need of a bedtime. 

Just as she was about to make another uncoordinated movement, a gentle hand landed on (Y/N)'s shoulder. She saw the gleaming diamond ring adorning the fourth finger first, already knowing who it belonged to. 

"Could I cut in, girls? Sorry to ruin the fun," Anne asked, her beaded gown trailing behind her as she beamed at her granddaughter, "It's my turn to dance with Aunt (Y/N)." She paused, glancing over. "If that's alright, anyway." 

"Yes, of course, of course," (Y/N) bubbled off, "We'll just finish our dance battle later." 

"I'd watch out if I were you," Gemma teased, "After a snack, this one is going to run you out of town, I'm afraid." 

"I'd like to see her try," (Y/N) played along, narrowing her eyes despite the smile attempting to take over her mouth. 

Gemma walked away with a laugh, taking her daughter back to her husband. A happy little family, they were. 

"I can't believe you're still at it," Anne laughed, swaying along to the music with (Y/N), "I can barely handle standing in these shoes, and you've been dancing like nothing." 

(Y/N) lifted the hem of her dress, showing off her socked feet. "I took my heels off hours ago. I got through one dance before I had to make a choice." 

Anne let out a boisterous laugh. The champagne bubbles from the number of toasts recited throughout the night had seemingly had their intended effect. From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) could see both her Uncle Mick and Harry looking in their direction, affectionate smiles on their faces. 

"I'm just happy you're having a good time," Anne crooned, blissful smile stuck to her features, "I was getting worried." 

A furrow pinched (Y/N)'s brows. "You were? Why?" 

A heavy sigh left her lips. "I told Mick I wouldn't say anything," she started, casting her eyes to her new husband, "But, I've just been worried about you and H." 

(Y/N)'s movements lagged in time to the music. "Me and Harry?" 

"Don't tell him I told you," she rushed out, "But, he said there was something? I can't remember exactly what he said, but he just seemed really upset when I told him you were bringing a date, and when I asked what was wrong he just said it was complicated, or something like that. I could tell something was going on last night, but I didn't want to push." 

In so many words, Anne was laying out her mother's intuition. Despite neither she nor Harry divulging any secrets, Anne had been able to pick up on the words between the lines. 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, her grip on the skirt of her dress tightening. 

Anne chewed on her bottom lip before speaking again. "I know it's not any of my business, you kids are adults and can do whatever you want—or don't want. But, I think you should talk to him. If it's complicated in the way I think, I want you to know that... It's okay. Complicated things happen all the time, but that doesn't mean it has to be impossible." 

Champagne was a hell of a drug. 

"Right," (Y/N) answered, a tight smile on her face. "Thank you, Anne. I think I need some air, I'll be right back." 

Before much else could be said, Anne's brother popped in to steal her away for a dance. The heavy subject she had just dropped on (Y/N) was forgotten, instead excited to chat with someone new for the time being. 

That left (Y/N) to swiftly creep out of the venue and into the garden that had previously been fashioned into an elegant aisle for the ceremony.

The chilly air she had been eager to get out of earlier now felt like a balm on her skin. In so many words, Anne had basically given permission for (Y/N) to do whatever she wanted when it came to Harry. Despite the marriage that had just connected them as family. 

It was both freeing and heavy as she stood in the garden. 

Freeing to know that even from someone both removed but so close to the situation, she didn't think (Y/N) was catastrophically insane or unnervingly gross for even considering Harry as someone. 

Heavy to know that they hadn't been quite as undercover as she hoped. Not everyone would agree with Anne's ruling, and (Y/N) dreaded the idea of finding out just who could be on the opposing side. Including Harry and the date he brought tonight.

The music from inside seeped through the open windows. As if reading the mood from even out here, the DJ had switched to a slow song. The singing violins and melodic voice of the singer floated around (Y/N), making it that much easier to be a bit melodramatic as she trailed her finger of a wilting cornflower, the hue matching the color of her dress. 

"There you are." 

(Y/N) didn't have to turn to know who had joined her in the garden. The voice alone was enough to have her spine straightening, goosebumps sparking over her skin. 

She offered a quiet smile to Harry as she dropped her hand from the flower. "Here I am," she said, "Is everything okay?" 

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. A wilting periwinkle flower went lopsided in his breast pocket. 

"Yeah, jus' saw y'with mum and then y'disappeared. I wanted to make sure y'were alright." 

"I'm fine," she offered, "It got a little stuffy in there, that's all." 

"Well," he started, moving towards her until his toes were just on the edge between the patio and the garden, "Y'missed our dates sneaking off together." 

(Y/N) blanched at the information. "Are you joking? I'm so sorry, oh my god. I'll find Mitch right now, I can't be—" 

"No, no," Harry laughed, "'S fine. Sarah's been asking me about him since he got here anyway. I know it was only a matter of time." 

"Oh," she sounded, settling at the information Harry was sharing, "So Sarah's not...?" 

Harry shook his head. "She's a friend I've had for years. Mum loves her, so she was coming whether or not she came as m'plus one. This way she got to pick where she sat." 

(Y/N) laughed. Half from the practicality of this woman's choices, as well as a wave of relief that ran over her. So he hadn't brought a date tonight. Only a friend that was seemingly much more interested in (Y/N)'s date. 

"Mitch is just a friend, too," (Y/N) clarified, pretending as if she didn't hear Anne's voice in the back of her head as she offered the information. 

"I was hoping you'd say that. Otherwise, I was going to have to follow them and beat him up or something." 

"No need," (Y/N) sighed, "He'd be sad if you did that, anyway. He thinks you're cool." 

Harry's eyes brightened. "Really?" 

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," (Y/N) warned, biting back a smile, "He only said that when I told him you put together the music list for the DJ. He thinks you have good taste." 

"Well, he's not wr—" 

"I had to break it to him that you think frosé is better than actual rosé. I think he's still coming to terms with it." 

Mock offense took over Harry's features. "How dare you? I told y'that in confidence." 

(Y/N) shrugged, a playful smile painted on her lips. "I had to save him the trouble of finding out on his own. He never would have recovered." 

Harry shook his head. "'S not even that bad, I don't get it." 

"Coming from someone who thinks frosé is the best wine offering, that makes sense." 

He playfully nudged his shoulder against hers, shaking his head. A beat passed between them, the muffled voices from inside spilling out into the courtyard. 

"I saw y'talking to mum," Harry started, switching off the subject with the tease falling out of his voice, "Looked a little intense." 

She hoped he didn't catch the way her spine stiffened. "It wasn't anything serious," she lied, "Just got a little emotional with everything." 

When Harry didn't immediately answer, (Y/N) chanced a look in his direction. He already had his eyes trained on her, shatters of green examining her features with raspberry lips rolled between his teeth.

"What?" 

"She didn't—" Harry started, cutting himself off before reorienting himself, "It wasn't about anything complicated?" 

(Y/N) blinked. Had their conversation really been that loud?

"Harry, I didn't tell her anything," (Y/N) insisted, "She said she just had a feeling, but I didn't—I don't know how she knew—"

"I told her," Harry piped up, dropping his eyes to the grass at their feet, "Kind of. She could tell something's been going on, and she asked once. She thought I didn't like y'or something. I jus' told her it was complicated, but that must have been enough." 

He let out a huff of laughter though she was sure neither of them were feeling particularly humorous at the moment. 

"'M sorry if she made y'feel uncomfortable or anything. She jus' wants me to be happy, and—"

"She told me it was okay." 

Harry went silent at her admission. Raspberry lips rolled between his teeth. 

(Y/N) waited, a breeze playing with her dress. 

"She said it was okay? That... whatever she thought was happening between me and you, was okay?" 

(Y/N) nodded. 

She watched as the very corners of his lips turned upwards. 

"Your uncle said the same thing." 

A furrow had (Y/N)'s brows pinching above her pointed gaze. "When?" 

Harry's lips stretched into a full smile. "Jus' now." 

It took a moment to process the fact that Harry was telling her this information with a grin on his face. Nothing polite and short. A real, dimple-baring, nose scrunching smile. 

He was happy. He was happy to hear this news. 

That whatever had started those months ago was okay. Whatever that meant for them. 

"This is good," (Y/N) whispered, voice melding with the music from inside the venue, "Right?" 

There was a part of her that wanted to close the distance between them. Crush the grass under her socked feet and cup his jaw between her palms. To slot her lips between his and kiss him. To do the one thing she had been holding back from since that first dinner at her uncle's house. 

But, she needed to wait. She wasn't going to have another moment like that in the hotel room. If Harry wanted her, he was going to have to say it, otherwise she was staying rig—

Taking the leap for her, Harry closed the distance in one long stride. He gently took the line of her jaw in his hands, tipping her head up until the tips of their noses were touching. The length of his lashes were only a breath away from tangling with hers. 

"Really good," he breathed, waiting for her.

That was all she needed to hear before she was stretching to the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his. 

Harry steadied her with his hands on either side of her face, guiding her into this first kiss. He took her bottom lip between his two, his kiss lingering and sweet. The only urgency came from the fact that they both knew just how long they had waited for this moment, though there was no reason to rush through it. 

She could taste the pistachio gelato he had earlier in the night, alongside the sweet wine served by the bar. With each tip and tilt of her head, she felt the tip of his nose grazing hers, the scruff of his chin against her own, the soft give of his mouth. Reaching up, she bundled her fingers into the lapels of his jacket, keeping the lines of their bodies close together. 

(Y/N) no longer felt the chill in the air, consumed by the feeling of Harry's kiss. This was worth waiting for. Worth the complications, and the uncertainty. Worth bringing Mitch to a family wedding just for him to disappear with someone else's date. (Something she was going to expect a thank you over, if he and Sarah worked out past a hookup). 

Harry drew away first, though only far enough to rest his forehead against hers. Blinking her eyes open, she found him already looking at her, half-lidded with blown pupils.

"'M sorry," he murmured, the fullest points of his lips grazing her own, "About the last time. I should have—I didn't want to leave, I jus'—" 

"It's okay," (Y/N) whispered, puckering her lips to give him a delicate kiss, "I get it. It hurt at the time, but I understand. Everything was just too much then." 

A slight quirk angled his lips. "Complicated, right?" 

(Y/N) couldn't contain the small huff of laughter that fanned from her lungs. "Exactly." 

Tipping his chin, Harry sealed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. His hands on her jaw slid down, following the line of her arms until he reached her hands. 

"We should go back inside." 

Lacing her fingers between his, (Y/N) made no move to head back inside the venue. 

"Do we?" 

A light danced through his eyes. Casting a glance at the party going on behind them, Harry tightened his hold on her hands. 

"I think we could wait a little longer. Don't you?" 

All (Y/N) could do was attempt to kiss him through her smile. 

—————

thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any fun ideas or requests of your own pleaseee send them in!

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ where the salesman has to hide his true nature because he was too interested in the foreigner student living across his street.

warnings_ AGE GAP (reader in her early 20s and American), ANGST, FLUFF (soft!salesman), implied sex (very mild and bad), plot twist at the end. No proofreading yet…

notes_magnetic and switch were on replay while writing this <3 SOMEONE ANSWER MY QUESTION AT THE END!!!

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

It wasn’t a day without music.

You weren’t trying to sound cringe when you admitted you couldn’t live a day without music.

While showering, cooking, studying, painting your nails, walking to take the subway, or working in your office, you always have your EarPods or cable ones plugged into your ears.

And while that happened, you rarely looked at your surroundings. You knew you were in safe neighborhoods all the time.

After living for only a month in Namyangju in Seoul, you moved when a bright opportunity arose in a wealthier neighborhood.

The building across the street was sophisticated, futuristic, and bigger in comparison with yours; which could be considered vintage but cozier.

Hence why you didn’t know who lived there. And certainly, you were clueless about the neat man in an elegant suits and sweet smile coming out of said building each morning.

Men never approached you. Since you were a foreign woman, you were an outcast and outsider. And Korean society was not very fond of foreigners. Not that you could generalize, but it was an obvious fact.

And you weren’t looking for a boyfriend either. You had learned to enjoy the solitude after entering your twenties. With no boyfriend and few girlfriends, you would make it.

It was a very late winter, almost spring Saturday when you arrived at your favorite sushi spot near your apartment.

The place had a special roll of ahi tuna with spicy mayo, avocado, and fresh cucumber on top that you really loved.

It was slightly warm and orders were being shouted while you waited for your takeout.

It was then when you first saw him.

“A salmon sashimi order, please…” he said and you eyed him.

Tall, fit, great haircut, elegant suit. Overall, very great looking.

But you quickly turned back to your phone because there was no way a seeming bachelor like him would pay attention to you.

Plus, you weren’t looking for a boyfriend.

Plus two, that type of man would never be into you.

“Do you come here often?” you hear and you almost froze after seeing the handsome man facing you.

You were shocked.

“Sorry?” you ask just to clarify if you had actually heard him speaking English.

“I asked if you come here often…”

“Mostly every Friday or Saturday,” you say and he nods, offering you a polite smile.

“Me too. I had never seen you before”

His pronunciation was almost perfect and he had a sultry tone of voice that made you feel nervous and intrigued.

“Either you come too early or too late” You don’t want to sound like you’re flirting, you don’t think the man in front of you is interested. You decided that after being shocked. “I’m usually spent up with college and all”

“You’re a student?” you nod at him, attempting to smile for the first time.

The man in the suit smiles back and the attraction is undeniable.

“Yes, one more year and a half to graduate” Your hands were shaking but you pretended too well to not look bothered by the handsome man talking to you. “But I’m already an English teacher for kids with my associate's degree”

He didn’t know much about the occidental education, but he believed you were smart enough. At least you seemed like that.

“That’s great,” he says and you hear your order is ready.

You smile at the handsome man one last time and you are ready to leave, fully mentally set that it was only a friendly gesture to talk with a man like him.

“Care to join me for dinner?” You turn, shocked once again.

He offered a sweet smile that you couldn’t refuse.

“Where to, sir?” he smirked, pleased.

He had you right where he wanted.

“Wherever you’d like…”

Yeah, he seemed older, maybe late thirties, but he looked nice, he was approaching you, he could be single and you couldn’t miss the chance to say a neat guy like him showed interest in you.

“Sure” you finally accept and he starts leading the way.

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have missed your vibrant clothing if I had seen you before,” he says as he keeps the door open for you to come out.

“Well, it’s not like I’m the most interesting or appealing woman, sir” he chuckles.

“If that were true, I would say there are no mirrors in your place, dear” You instantly blush, your legs feeling wobbly and a smile creeping up your face.

And you considered yourself fine, you had so much self-love. Still, you were thrilled to see how a man like him was interested in you

But he was lying. He had seen you for the first time a month ago….

…

You’re sweaty but freshly waxed.

Only you were imprudent enough to bake on a hot day. Your music was playing from your iPad charging in the kitchen when there was a knock on your door.

Your bare feet drag you across the living room and into the little reception room and when you open your door, you smile deeply.

“I brought our dinner” There is your salesman, in a dark grey suit, black tie, and dress shoes. Briefcase in one hand, takeout in the other.

“I baked cookies” you reply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Can’t miss the smell…” he had never tried American cookies before.

Things were going well, to say the least.

The salesman was actually interested in you and turned out to be great company.

It would always amaze you how two different people could fit so well, like puzzle pieces that connect to totally different things.

His polished shoes rest near the entrance beside your sequin mary janes. His blazer was hanging beside your salmon coat and his hand was rubbing soft circles around your back.

Your legs were hanging over his lap and you were laying, one arm in the armrest of your coach while you admired the man beside you.

His eyes screamed he was falling in love, he knew. There was an unspoken rule about keeping private his identity and protecting the games. But no clause stated he couldn’t have interpersonal relationships or marry.

So there he was giving doe eyes to an American woman who was younger than him.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d say you have the eyes of a sweet sociopath” Both of you burst into laughter. Him actually finding the fun in your words.

If only you knew…

“And I’d say you have the eyes of a lovely perfectionist” you huff, playfully pulling his tie out of place.

“I’m not a perfectionist” he eyes your place as you laugh, noticing all the books and trinkets you had. “I just gave you half-burned cookies”

“And you also waited in advance to wait for your college website to open your registration window”

“Registration is a vital thing, handsome” he smiles and stares deeply at you, making you feel nervous but eager to smile back.

The comfortable feeling of being with him causes you to have an epiphany.

A realization from your heart.

Your fingers trace the fabric of his dress shirt and he pays closer attention to your touch.

“Will I ever see you with some clothes that are not nice suits?” He chuckles before leaning closer, applying pressure, your thighs pushing against your stomach.

“You could see me without the suit…” your cheeks burn and he notices it, smiling at the sight. “Don’t be shy, baby”

“You make me nervous all the time” you admit, a little giggle coming out involuntary.

“Really?” He asks feigning doubt, smiling, and grasping your chin.

You roll your eyes.

“Just kiss me already” he wastes no time and quickly pulls you into his lap.

What starts as a soft but deep kiss slowly turns into a needy one. Your fingers curl into his soft hair and his hands land in your hipbones, just to start urging you to grind against him.

“Don’t make me say it” you manage to say, out of breath as he started kissing your neck. “Just know that I want it so bad”

“As you wish so…” You didn’t know how badly he wanted to tie you up and see how much he could ruin you.

His lunatic behavior is well hidden under rough but lovely touches and nibbles all across your body.

His long fingers cherished each mole, scar, and stretch mark in your figure, only making you accept how much you liked him.

You pulled a handsome man like him and it only made your ego boost.

The salesman was made for you.

…

Over the months, while being abroad, you mastered your loneliness to the point where you had started to explore the city by yourself.

Now you have a boyfriend, but he gives you a lot of independence during the week.

Three weeks ago he took you to dinner and on the way back, while passing by a park, both of you acknowledged that dating would be fine.

There weren’t a lot of things in common between you two. Your salesman was older, he liked music from his childhood years from the eighties and loved grunge music from when he was a teenager. But he mostly loved classical music. He liked traditional Korean dishes and enjoyed sitting on your little terrace to simply enjoy the view.

When it came to you, you enjoyed all types of music but mostly from your childhood in the 2000s and 2010s, music that was released nowadays and from the fifties or sixties. You always missed dishes from back home and your boyfriend urged you to show him what you liked.

He was sweet but rough. A real gentleman who never made you feel insecure or uncomfortable, purely devotion.

The relationship remained new, but you could tell it was looking too good to be true.

You asked for a smoothie with spirulina and collagen. The smurf blue painted a little bit of your tongue as you sipped your drink outside of a coffee shop.

It was sunny and a little foggy at the same time, and you were utterly relaxed that you almost gagged when someone called you.

“… y/n?” when you turned to your left, you saw your boyfriend, in another suit, briefcase, and two bags full of bread in his hands.

You chuckled and frowned confused.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, taking off your sunglasses. “And why did you got all that bread?”

He wasn’t expecting you near him that morning. In fact, he wasn’t expecting you for the rest of the day. It was on the weekends when he was attached to the hip with you.

He could play the card of an obvious and innocent boyfriend very well.

“It is my day to buy treats for the workmates” he explains with a sweet smile, you sigh, smiling and nodding.

“Ah, I see” you reply, not knowing what else to say. “I had a very short lecture”

“Are you going home now?” He asked, not really worried but wanting to make sure you were not going to the park across the street. Just where he had plans…

“I think so. Maybe I’ll go to get some new trinkets from the mall” he nodded, debating whether to get closer to you or not. He wasn’t sure making contact with you in public was correct.

It was you who walked away, only turning to say goodbye.

“Call me tonight. And be safe, dear” you say smiling while blowing him a kiss.

It touched him. He had to be very careful now that he had you. Right where he wanted to.

…

There is no steam, but it should be.

It was another Friday, no more burdens until Monday.

And you weren’t alone.

“Fuck, y/n…” you had your salesman cursing and moaning your name in the shower.

“Just a little rougher, baby” you beg, savoring the cold water running down your throat and towards your breasts.

One of his hands skillfully carried your left leg up, so your knee was brushing his ribs.

“Aww, my girl wants more?” You nod, closing your eyes to focus on not cumming yet.

And out of nowhere, between deep and rough thrusts of him, you hear him saying something.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” he says between pants, with his eyes closed and battling with how good you were taking him. “Conference outside Seoul. Just a week, baby…”

Your pleasure is paused by his words.

“Why you waited to tell me a day before you’re leaving?…” he stops fucking you.

He realizes you didn’t take well the news and it makes him feel bad. He could swear there were almost tears in your face.

“Oh, no, my blossom. Don’t be sad…” you almost tear up, pathetic. But it took you by surprise and you hated saying goodbye even if it was temporary. “I’ll call you as soon as I can”

You do not say anything. You try to disguise your discomfort with the way he is still inside you, hard and ready to be back to action.

But he already knew you too well.

“I’m sorry. I’ll tell with anticipation next time” You eye him and you realize you love him.

“It’s okay. I understand”

Soon you forgot how well he went back to fucking you. Feeling so full of him, you kept tasting the way he moaned your name and kissed your chin.

But in the morning, just as you touched the cold and empty sheets, you missed him.

And as a woman, you couldn’t ignore the omen building up.

…

The first fight with your salesman wasn’t tremendous but it sure hurt.

You were utterly disappointed after not receiving a text or call from him in almost four days. You didn’t argue when he called, but it was beyond obvious that you were irritated. And it ended up in a bittersweet conversation and you hanging up abruptly.

The salesman was expecting you to yell and argue nonstop. But he was surprised by your short answers and tired tone of voice.

It made him feel bad. Like genuinely bad for worrying you.

But he couldn’t call you while being on the island. He had to wait an extra day to avoid suspicions from his boss. And now that he had a new task; to be extremely careful while being in Seoul because Seong Gi-hun was searching for him.

The salesman was stressed but as soon he heard your sweet voice, he almost felt bad.

You were his most precious thing in life.

The only thing keeping him from totally being insane. Like a magnetic pair, meant to fit despite being totally opposite.

You had such a strong hold on him that the salesman even found questioning his life decisions.

So he did a great job apologizing to you for not calling you sooner.

And a week later, he promised to take you to some thematic fancy bar in Gangnam.

He was smoking, a bad habit he had passed to you. But it was kind of a warm afternoon and he was waiting for you near the subway station.

A couple of minutes had passed when the salesman found himself out of breath after watching you arrive. Rarely does he see you in dresses, always vivid coats, shoes, and tops but never dresses.

That afternoon you had a cream satin gown, cowboy boots, and a long black coat. With red lips and sparkling eyes.

“By the way you’re looking at me… I might believe I look great” is the first thing you say, wrapping your arms around him and urging him to give you a peck. He chuckles, hugging you back.

“You also look too good, dear” his deep voice sends shivers through your spine.

He also looked too damn fine. Dress pants and a black turtleneck sweater, making him look younger and sexier-if that was even possible.

“Not too bad yourself too, honey” you compliment him and both of you start descending to the station.

You were excited because your salesman had shown you pictures of the bar, it was futuristic and you told him he had to take a lot of pictures of you in the restroom because it was all dark and it had neon lights. He rolled his eyes but assured me he would be your photographer.

By the time both of you were waiting, the salesman looked around.

Just to be careful. But to his surprise, it was more than that.

He studied the face of Seoung Gi-hun, he had only seen him once years ago. Now, it wasn’t only him the problem, but the shark loans he befriended.

A group of men looked around while seated on a bench, then texting.

“Let’s take a cab better” your boyfriend announces before grabbing your hand and dragging you upstairs again. “Wait- why?”

He doesn’t say anything, you look back and see a man staring at you in the distance.

Interesting…

“Are you telling me what the hell was that?” You ask again once you are back outside, on a sidewalk.

Your boyfriend eyes you briefly before turning away to gesture for a cab to stop.

“Didn’t you see that man? In maroon shirt and disheveled hair?” He asks and you frown.

“No?” he shrugs, opening the cab door for you. “Doesn’t matter… I just didn’t like how he was staring around. Maybe it was just me being paranoid”

You chuckle.

“As if they were looking for you…” his eyes snap open, and he turns to look at you after telling the directions to the driver. But you’re looking at the passing street.

He stares too much until something clicks.

Something he had completely missed.

…

Great food, great drinks, great pictures taken, and great kisses and subtle touches in the darkness of the dance floor.

When you open your eyes, you see only your desk lamp is on, everything else is quiet and dark. You are tied in a chair.

“How fun was to play detectives?” you hear him, standing up from your couch. “You’re the detective Seong Gi-hun hired”

The fucker had made you drink more than intended.

It was a few months after completing your first semester in Seoul. You needed money and Gi-hun needed a subtle person that wouldn’t draw much attention. A foreigner was perfect. He promised to prioritize your safety and be fair.

“I accepted the deal before I had even met you”

“Since when do you know?” He asks, demanding an immediate answer.

“The day I saw you at the bakery” you admit, sighing.

He chuckles, turning his back to you.

“Too damn smart, my girl” you should be scared, but you aren’t.

“Yeah no shit” you huff, your hands opening and then clenching in distress. “Now I’ve been playing dumb for weeks. Pretending I haven’t got new clues that lead to you…”

“That’s sweet of you…” he turns back to face you.

And lifts his arm, pointing at you with a revolver.

Suddenly not so romantic.

“Gonna kill me, honey?” you smile, feigning innocence.

“I should do so, according to my boss” he presses the gun against your forehead, but you don’t flinch.

Based on stereotypes and some intersectionality, he thought it was ‘so American of you’

“Then do it” you dare him, feeling how was paying more attention to the fallen straps of your nightgown dress. “Pull the fucking trigger, handsome”

“I really should kill you” Your lips taste the metal of the gun, your salesman is a little insane.

“But I love you” he chuckles, leaning, putting both his hands in the armrest of the chair.

Inches away from you.

“I love you too” Your lips brush against his, the tension increasing.

It was so weird for him to admit he loved someone. After spending more than two decades unable to feel genuine human emotions, he was nonchalant, but deep inside, he was scared.

So he untied your hands.

“So what we’re going to do about this?”

It’s unbearable to be so close to him and not throw you against him. Your arms hugging him and pulling him closer.

“We both hush, honey” you whisper in his ear.

He kisses you, sliding an arm under your legs and the other on your back, carrying you to bed.

“As long and far as we need to” he promises and you nod, kissing him.

…

SOMEONE, PLEASE TELL ME IF GONG YOO’s CHARACTER DIED OR NOT IN THE SILENT SEA 🗣️

[kaaaaaaarf]

Sirius, who owns a popular nightclub in NYC, and Remus, who is dragged there by Lily one Friday night, but would really rather be drinking tea in his tiny industrial art studio apartment in the Bronx with his cat. Wolfstar hit it off, and Sirius takes him home—which happens to be a multi-story apartment in an old building in Tribeca that he paid for not with inheritance, but with the money he makes from his legitimate business. Remus has never been less comfortable in someone's apartment, feels like he's getting Punk'd.

Months go by and they keep seeing each other, but Remus has a panic attack every time he goes over because he is slightly afraid of the doorman at Sirius' building.

Remus, panicked and sweating: What if he doesn't let me in? It's after midnight!

Sirius: What, do you think he's gonna make you answer his riddles three before you'll be allowed in or something?

Remus: I dunno, maybe!!! Should I bring him a coffee to say sorry?

Sirius: Sorry for what?!

Remus: I don't know, existing???

He braves the doorman, though, because he's nervous about letting Sirius see his apartment, which in addition to being industrial and the size of a box, only has heat 45% of the time and has a shower rigged over the toilet. He's like no way can I take this fucking model-level hottie anywhere near this dump because it isn't meant to be lived in...but eventually, six months into the relationship he relents and brings him over. Remus is nervously pacing around his apartment, picking up clothes from his floor and Sirius is completely unbothered, more concerned with petting the cat than with how the apartment looks. It turns out that actually, Sirius lived in a very similar apartment when he was first disowned by his family and was starting up the club with a loan from Fleamont.

Sirius: Remus, sit down. My old apartment was way worse—there was actually a hole in the wall behind the bathroom mirror that lead into another apartment. I had to padlock the fucking thing so I didn't get robbed.

Nevertheless, they still spend most of their time at Sirius' place, so Remus starts baking so that he can give the doorman a peace offering for disturbing him so frequently, which turns out to be a hobby he can't really afford.

Remus, wringing his hands: Lily, I don't know if i can afford to be with this guy...I really like him, and he always pays for our dates and stuff, but I am really eating it with all the money i'm spending on the doorman. ☹️

Lily: ...I love you, but you're an idiot.

Eventually, Remus gets over his fear of Gary (the doorman), and they actually become friends. His peace offerings turn into weekly screenings of Bake Off episodes behind the security desk in the lobby. Sirius has no idea this is happening, just that Remus is always busy Tuesday nights at 7pm. He comes downstairs to walk Padfoot one day and has to double take at his boyfriend and Gary laughing about a soggy bottom.

When Gary retires a few years later, Remus actually sobs, but continues to meet him at the park on the corner on Saturday mornings with his and Sirius' daughter.

The end????

(This has been a co-production from me and @pain-in-the-riri who are both absolutely doing the work we're being paid for and not plotting the lives of wolfstar)

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 1: proposal ‘a few years had gone and come around...you looked at me, got down on one knee’

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 4.7k notes: based on this request 🫡 sorry this took forever, i took a break from writing for a bit (writing 80k+ words over the course of a month alters your brain chemistry tbh). i was gonna link the proposal and the wedding together but decided to split them just so i could get something out for y'all! soooo trust that the wedding oneshot will be in the works soon and other slice of life snippets. if there's anything you wanna see, feel free to request! i'll get around to it when i have the time & my inbox is always open for yaps 🙂‍↕️as always i hope y'all enjoy!! 🫶

NOVEMBER 13, 2028

The first week of their postseason vacation couldn’t have gone any better. After a successful last year with the Sparks and the Wings respectively, Tess and Paige needed the time out of the country, away from basketball and other people. For four years, they’d spend up to six months away from each other training, playing, or travelling – it wasn’t much different from what they were used to in college, but they were nearing their five year anniversary and if Tess was being honest, she loathed only having Paige for half of the year. They planned to spend the first two full weeks of the offseason in Naples, Italy, where Tess had grown up – completely alone with plenty of time to relax after a grueling championship contending season.

So the first week was amazing. They flew in on a Monday, ordered room service and promptly fell asleep after dinner, far too jet lagged and exhausted after hours of travelling. On Tuesday, Paige treated her to breakfast in bed: delicate pastries and fruits and savory meats, then they toured an art museum – the Sansevero Chapel Museum. Tess was pretty sure Paige spent more time staring at her than the actual art they’d paid to look at, but she wasn’t going to complain. She enjoyed Paige’s attention more than she liked to admit. On Wednesday, Tess showed her around the inner workings of the city and the street she grew up on. Paige even met some of her extended family, such as her paternal grandparents and some other cousins. Tess’s family welcomed Paige in with open arms and made sure they stayed for lunch. They spent the rest of the day walking around the city hand-in-hand with Tess sharing childhood stories as Paige listened intently. On Thursday, they visited the San Carlo Theatre – coincidentally enough, they were performing an opera of Romeo and Juliet, which endlessly amused the both of them. On Friday, Paige decided she wanted to try every pizza place that Naples had to offer, and Tess didn’t really have the heart to say no to her. The weekend was spent lounging around, walking around the city some more, and visiting the beach, although they quickly gave up on that endeavor because it was entirely too cold.

Then the second week rolled around and Paige’s entire demeanor changed. When Tess woke up on Monday morning, shirt and underwear haphazardly thrown on after a long night, Paige was lying silently next to her, hands folded over her stomach. She was staring at the ceiling fan like it held the answers for whatever existential question she’d been pondering. Paige and silent were two things that never ended well when they were mixed together. The last time Paige had been eerily quiet had been after New Year’s in 2024 – that was a month of dread and panic that Tess never wanted to go back to, so she rolls onto her side, gazing at Paige.

“Do you ever think the trees are trying to communicate with us but we’re too dumb to understand them?” she asks seriously, watching five different expressions cross Paige’s face before she settles on amusement, laughing quietly.

Paige finally cranes her head over, her face softening when she locks eyes with Tess. Her hair is unruly, a mess from the night before, mascara flaking and her skin littered with marks. Tess is certain she’s never seen anyone more beautiful than Paige and she’s certain she never will. Even after almost five years together, Paige still makes her heart beat like she’s a teenager with a crush. “What happened to ‘good morning?’” she jokes.

“Not a good morning when I wake up and you’re social distancing,” Tess grumbles indignantly, pointing at the space in between them. “What happened to, I don’t know, ‘loving your girlfriend?’”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige croons, her tone teasing. She rolls Tess onto her other side, curling an arm around her abdomen, her fingers lacing together with Tess’s over her navel. She rests her chin just above the crown of Tess’s head, sinking into the pillow. “Better?”

Tess hums, content, her hair raising at the feel of Paige’s skin against hers. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

Paige huffs out something akin to shocked laughter. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Paige, we’ve been together for almost five years,” Tess states. “You think I don’t know when something’s on your mind?” She twists the ring on Paige’s thumb as the blonde falls silent, thinking. “I don’t want you to ice me out,” she admits. “We said we wouldn’t do that. If there’s something wrong –”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Paige says quickly. She squeezes Tess’s hand, craning her head to press a gentle kiss on her temple. “Nothing’s wrong. Believe me. Everything’s perfect. Just…a big moment for us right now.”

“Free agency?” Tess asks, turning around in Paige’s embrace to face her fully after adjusting her arms. Paige’s face looks torn, uncertain – free agency has to be what’s weighing on her now, right? They’ve had this conversation numerous times, especially late at night after rough games when they’re missing each other and the distance feels like a burden. They’ve done this before, which is what Tess clings onto – they’ve been hundreds of miles apart in college but it’s so different now that they’re in the league and that they know their future is with one another.

“Free agency is up there,” Paige confesses after a while, frowning. “We don’t gotta talk about it right now. This is our vacation.”

“We say that every time,” Tess says softly, trying to start a conversation, not an argument. That’s been one of the biggest points of growth with Paige over the past few years. Tess is often too quick to jump to a conclusion, to get into her head about a situation or however Paige must feel about something. They’ve had these growing pains discussions numerous times, learning to be patient and trust each other more and more. Tess searches Paige’s features. “You and I both want to play ball. You know I don’t mind competing against you, but…I don’t like the distance, either. So, what do you want from whatever team you’re interested in?”

Paige hesitates, but Tess stares at her imploringly. “A younger team,” she says. “Lots of people are retiring. Stewie, BG, Sloot, Natasha. I wanna go to a team that’s gonna be together for a while, be a championship contender. I wanna be closer to you, too.”

“Okay,” Tess says, feeling slightly relieved – she and Paige are in agreement on that much. She wants longevity, a team that’s reliable, where she can settle down. She’s been stubborn on keeping up her apartment lease in LA just because she didn’t want to purchase anything permanent that wouldn’t have both hers and Paige’s name on it. “Do you have a team in mind?”

“I’ve talked to some people, yeah,” Paige says. “Have you?”

Tess nods. Paige’s thumb finds her jaw, tracing the skin there absentmindedly. “Say it on three?”

“On three,” Paige confirms. “One.”

Tess swallows. “Two.”

Together, they both say “Three,” and then –

“Valkyries,” they say at the exact same time.

The tension melts from Paige’s shoulders immediately as Tess breaks into peals of laughter. Paige shakes her head fondly, tucking her chin into the crook of Tess’s neck to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Okay. So we’ll sign with the Valkyries if they reach out to us during free agency.”

“Don’t think there’s gonna be an ‘if,’” Paige says quietly. “I talked to Azzi and she said Natalie was very interested in us. They recently got some crazy salary cap increase so I think their plan was to splurge on us, make it hard to say no. Pretty sure they also got Kiki and Ayoka to resign, so me, you, Azzi, Kiki, and Ayoka? Playoffs, easily.”

“Oh, so you think we’re starters?” Tess asks teasingly.

“You think they’re gonna drop a couple million on bench players?”

Tess shakes her head fondly, but presses her lips to Paige’s hairline, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I can’t believe we’ll be playing together next season,” she murmurs, feeling Paige tighten her arms around her waist. “After kicking your ass for nine straight years –”

“That is not what happened,” Paige interrupts, smushing her finger into Tess’s cheek. “2025? Ring a bell? UConn natty?”

“I recall a lot of things from that night but a natty was not one,” Tess states. “I remember you coming to my hotel room, and –”

Paige slides her hand across Tess’s mouth, shutting her up, but her eyes are slightly wide. “Don’t,” she says softly. The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hold back laughter. Tess rolls her eyes and she pushes Paige’s hand off of her. “Does this mean we gotta start apartment hunting now?”

Tess hums. “Maybe a house?” she suggests, watching Paige’s reaction carefully. As her words sink in, a smile grows unabashed on Paige’s face.

“You wanna buy a house with me?”

“Paige,” Tess says, a little indignant. “Duh?” Paige’s expression turns unbelievably tender, her smile softening. Tess quirks a grin of her own. “I’m thinking of something permanent, you know? Settle down, finally? Stay with the Valkyries until we’re, what – 40 something, Diana Taurasi style. Retire in the Bay. We’ll have our house, maybe four bed, couple baths. Us, maybe a kid or two, guest room for our friends. We’ll probably be coaching somewhere, collecting our rings when we’re old and washed up.” Tess swallows, realizing the gravity of what she’s just said. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Tess.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Before she can respond, Paige’s fingers are curling around her neck, pulling her in closer until their lips meet, and kissing her with a softness and a gentleness that hasn’t disappeared after so many years together. Tess can’t help but smile, feeling the promise, the agreement, that Paige presses against her. When she draws back, Paige’s smile is wide, her teeth showing and the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I want that with you,” Paige murmurs, just so that there’s absolutely no confusion. “Lemme put a ring on it before we start talking about kids, yeah?”

Tess narrows her eyes dramatically. “You need to hurry it up, then,” she says. “I won’t wait around forever.”

Paige lifts one of her hands, kissing her knuckles with a coy smile. “Trust me. Gonna make it worth your while, baby.”

Tess honestly should have known that she had another trick up her sleeve, but she was too lost in the moment to overthink her words. So she acquiesced, giving into the deep, lingering kiss that Paige pressed into her lips, letting herself sink further into their bed and reveling in the way Paige’s lips danced across her skin.

The rest of the week passed with little interruption or further weirdness. Paige did seem a little nervous at times, though the moment never lasted too long, so Tess didn’t think much of it. She and Paige continued to make the most of their time in Italy. They had a private couple’s painting event, where Paige, for whatever reason, painted the two of them as stick figures driving around in a basketball shaped car (she’s lucky that Tess is in love because otherwise…God help her). Paige booked them in with a renowned Italian chef who taught them how to make homemade pasta and various sauces, which went as well as one could expect – that is to say Tess was just endlessly distracted by the way the veins in Paige’s hands protruded as she kneaded the dough.

Then, on Friday the 17th – Tess’s birthday – Tess woke up to Paige’s lips on her face and an assortment of brunch food. They indulged for the better part of the morning, not leaving the bed until the afternoon until their spa appointment. Paige had declared that she “deserved to be pampered” and who was Tess to argue against that? The resort masseuse and the nail techs were incredible at their jobs and Tess left the appointment feeling incredibly refreshed. Her birthday dinner was at an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city and Paige gifted her another charm for her bracelet – this time in the shape of the Italian peninsula to remind her of their time here.

Saturday the 18th was different – there was a palpable shift in the air. She woke up a little past eleven in the morning, alone, which was concerning in and of itself because Paige is rarely awake before she is. Paige is a chore to get out of bed in the mornings and always has been. She’s the CEO of “five more minutes” or “come cuddle” which, Tess will admit, has only become more endearing over the years, but right now, all it does is worry Tess after the conversation they had earlier in the week about free agency.

She hardly has the time to overthink it too much because Paige is shuffling back into their room, sporting an insane case of bedhead and a slight smudge of toothpaste lingering on her bottom lip. The blonde grins at her, easing her nerves instantly, and she presses one knee into the bed as she leans over Tess’s body, planting a kiss onto her lips. “Good morning!” she chirps, which is the next indicator that something is up.

“Good morning,” Tess says, honestly a little confused. She wipes the foam off of Paige’s lip. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks suspiciously.

“What, I can’t be happy?” Paige raises a brow, leaning in to kiss her again. Tess stops her with a hand to her chest.

“Okay, now I know you’re being weird,” Tess states. “You woke up before me. You got out of bed and attempted to make yourself…somewhat presentable, when the first thing you do in the morning is beg to be the little spoon for a little while.” As she speaks, Tess smooths out the mess on Paige’s head, frowning slightly. “You’re too happy right now. And you keep trying to distract me. So, you’re plotting something. What’s going on?”

Paige huffs dramatically, leaning away from Tess. “Nothing’s wrong, ma, swear,” she vows. Tess narrows her eyes at her, studying her features closely, but all she can make out is an anxious earnestness and unequivocal love. Paige cups her cheek as she kisses her temple gently, moving her mouth to her ear to whisper, “Everything’s perfect right now. Trust me, okay? Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” Tess affirms. Paige’s words soften the tension in her shoulders. Maybe she is overthinking again, which isn’t unlike her. Paige has never given her any reason to doubt her words, not in the near five years they’ve been together. She owes it to Paige to have more faith in her, in them.

A smug look crosses across Paige’s features as she pokes Tess in the cheek obnoxiously. “I know.” Tess rolls her eyes fondly as Paige leaves the bed fully. “Now get dressed. This is our last day in Italy and we got shit to do. Can you do my hair?” Tess meets her eyes through the mirror, raising a brow slightly. “Please?” Paige adds.

“I’ll house train you one day,” Tess mumbles, though she knows Paige is basically a lost cause at this point. Her girlfriend smiles at her and all of her faux annoyance washes away in an instant as Tess presses a kiss to her cheek, beginning to work on her hair. Paige gives her free reign to work and Tess elects to leave Paige’s down in natural, loose waves. Then, they get dressed – Paige dons a baggy pair of black cargos with an oversized white sweater and matching white sneakers. She doesn’t forget her chain or the various rings on her fingers, which makes Tess contemplate telling her to cancel their reservations for wherever they’re going so they can spend the day in bed (again – but that’s no one’s business but their own). Tess herself dresses in white sneakers, a pair of light-wash blue jeans, and a patterned sweater that she’d stolen directly from Paige’s luggage – the very sweater that Tess claimed made Paige look like an art teacher.

Once they’re ready to go, Paige leads her hand-in-hand down the busy streets towards a restaurant. They indulge in a late lunch, cracking jokes, sharing stories and optimism for the future – Paige wants an outdoor court built at whatever house they’re buying (possibly the least surprising thing Tess has ever heard), and Tess’s only real complaint is that she doesn’t want to live in an obnoxiously huge mansion. As long as the house has what they need and they have their family, then there’s not much else that Tess wants.

After lunch, they arrive at a private pottery making class, which takes a good few hours out of their day. Paige looked absolutely silly with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and covered in clay, and Tess is sure that the only thing that stopped them from initiating an all-out clay war was the elderly woman who was carefully instructing them. Eventually, their creations start taking shape – a vase for Tess and a lopsided mug for Paige, and while they get fired in the kiln, the instructor talks them through the history of Italian pottery and ceramics.

Tess had thought the pottery class was their last stop on the day, but Paige had something else planned. “It’s a secret,” she claimed, but she seemed a little more nervous than she was earlier that day, which did little to quell Tess’s sudden anxiety until Paige pressed her lips to her knuckles. “Trust me.”

And so she did, allowing Paige to lead her down the streets once more in the fading daylight. The sky was lined with streaks of pinks, oranges, and a dimming yellow. Tess knows she says it a lot, but in this light, Paige looks absolutely radiant – the sharp lines of her face softened by the gentleness of the sky, the blush on her cheeks heightened by the chill in the air. Her palm was warm against Tess’s, rough in some places and smooth in others, but Tess loves every inch of Paige just the same.

Finally, the two of them stop in front of an unassuming door, one that Tess had never seen growing up here. Paige’s nerves seem to return tenfold as she pauses. Tess watches her face contort as if she’s battling some internal decision. She squeezes their linked hands, feeling the relief that exudes from Paige’s body, and the blonde smiles tentatively. “You first,” she states, resting her free hand over the door knob. Tess gives a confused, yet trusting nod, as Paige opens the door and ushers her inside.

The breath is all but sucked from her lungs as soon as she’s indoors. The lighting in the room is dim, but Tess can see nearly everything. The rose petals creating a path for them, the flickering of candles strewn about, but the part that truly captures her attention are the polaroids that hang from the ceiling on thin twine strings. The one closest to the entrance are incredibly new, selfies of the two of them from the week before, a picture of Tess and Paige swept up with Tess’s extended family. There’s a solo shot of Tess grinning at the camera for Paige, dolled up in her birthday dress and holding a glass of wine.

Paige doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t have to. She rests her palms over Tess’s hips as she guides the both of them forward, allowing Tess the time to properly look at all of the pictures. As they walk through the room, which Tess figures was an art gallery given the abstract paintings on the wall, the pictures get older and older. There’s a photo of the two of them from the WNBA finals, confetti sticking to their sweat-slick bodies as they embraced in the middle of the court. There’s a photo of them at the Olympics holding up their matching gold medals. There’s countless shots of them sharing the basketball court, as rivals, and part of Tess can’t help but get choked up because they’re not going to be rivals on the court after this vacation is said and done. After nine years, she finally gets to play with Paige, as teammates, and she’s not sure if there’s anything in the world that could possibly top that feeling.

Their WNBA memories filter out, leading to their college ones. There’s one of the two of them from the national championship, displaying the two of them staring at each other – Tess on one side of an half-empty court, Paige on the other swarmed by her teammates. The pride reflected on Tess’s face is evident in the photo. There’s a bunch of other memories, their February game, holidays celebrated with each other, their summer of 2024 world tour, and photographs of them from when they were “pretending.” Tess spots herself perched on Paige’s lap during the first Thanksgiving she spent with the extended Bueckers family, arguing over Fortnite with Paige as Paige’s siblings watched on in amusement. There’s countless FaceTime screenshots, back when the two of them were truly getting to know each other, selfies from their Bose trip that changed everything, and finally, as they’re nearing the end, the photographs melt into their initial soft launch photos, that damned coffee shop and Paige’s less than subtle appearance. But the last photo isn’t like the others. The rose petal path has led them to the back end of the art gallery, still illuminated by the soft lighting. The last photo is framed. It’s of the two of them shaking hands after the first game they played against each other on February 8, 2021. That date has stuck with Tess for a while now. If you’d told her younger self in 2021 that she’d be here, now, with Paige Bueckers, she wouldn’t believe you. But now? She can’t think of anything more fitting, more obvious than her and Paige.

With tears brimming her eyes and wrought with nostalgia and gratefulness, Tess turns to meet Paige’s gaze, but she’s already looking at her. She always is. Paige looks extremely nervous, but there’s a spark of determination that Tess knows all too well.

“We met almost eight years ago,” Paige states, her voice soft as her shaky hands reach out for Tess’s. “In Gampel. We played against each other and I learned so much from you – I just didn’t have the courage to talk to you, and I regretted that for months. Then, two years after that, in May of 2023, God sent you to me again. It was awkward, and unconventional, and I thought you didn’t like me –” the two of them share a watery laugh, “–but I knew I had to make the most of it. Of us. I wasn’t gonna let you get away from me, not again. So we fake dated. I just wanted you in any way you’d have me. I was happy to just be your friend. But as time went by, I fell for you, and…” Paige smiles at her. “I was scared at first, but part of me knew it was gonna happen. You’re a competitor, you’re stubborn, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. You get me, always have, and me falling in love with you was real. We’re real. I’m so thankful for what we have, for you, and knowing that we’ll be playing together next season is everything I’ve wanted for nearly eight years. I can’t wait to do this with you. I can’t wait to build a life with you. On New Year’s Eve in 2023, I told you my resolution was building something permanent. I’ve kept that promise, but I’m gonna amend that to say my resolution is to build something permanent with you.”

Paige releases her hands, exhaling, and Tess almost chokes on a sob when Paige carefully drops down to one knee, her hands reaching into her pocket to produce a small ring box. Her hands shake as she opens the top, revealing the gold engagement band and a stunning, sparkling diamond, minimalist yet beautiful in the way Tess prefers her jewelry. But the ring doesn’t hold her attention for too long. She gazes down at Paige, at the tears beading at her waterline, the clear anticipation and nervousness and unfiltered love in her eyes. Tess watches a soft smile spread across Paige’s face as she finally asks the question she’s been waiting to hear for years. “Tess Kennedy, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Tess doesn’t even have to think about it. She sinks down across from Paige, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my fucking God,” she murmurs, not even feelingly slightly ashamed as she soaks Paige’s sweater with her tears. Paige wraps her arms around her middle, pulling her close tightly as she laughs.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes, Paige,” she stresses, barely resisting an eye roll when Paige’s face lights up, simultaneously melting with relief. “I told you I wanted to marry you almost four years ago. You really thought my answer was gonna change?”

Paige huffs, amused, as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger. The candlelight reflects beautifully off it. The ring is gorgeous but Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige, whose eyes shine with tears and gratitude. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” Her tone is gentle but also a little smug. “Tess Kennedy wants to marry me,” she sing-songs.

Tess rolls her eyes fully as she and Paige stand up. “You literally got down on one knee and asked, you jerk,” she retorts, reaching up to cup Paige’s cheek and brushing away one of her tears. Her voice is soft despite her words, which makes Paige laugh as she grabs Tess by her wrist and presses a kiss to her open palm, her smile bright and fully enamored. Then, a realization dawns on Tess and she groans, pressing her forehead into Paige’s shoulder. “Oh my God. Is this what you were so nervous about last week? Not free agency?”

Paige laughs, a sound straight from the belly as she wraps her arms around Tess’s shoulders. “I didn’t lie. I was a little nervous about free agency, but I was a lot more nervous for this. Knew you’d say yes – you’re in love with me and shit –”

“And shit?” Tess asks, shaking her head.

Paige nudges her. “Just wanted to make it perfect for you,” she admits, all teasing gone from her tone. “Told you I had to make it worth your while.”

“It was perfect,” Tess says honestly. “You could have asked me anywhere, anytime, and I would say yes. I love you. But I did really like the pictures.”

Paige pulls back to grin at her. “Thought you would,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently. “I love you, too. Is it too early to call you Mrs. Bueckers?”

Tess pushes her away with a hand to her chest, affronted. “For the record, we’re hyphenating,” she declares. “Mrs. and Mrs. Bueckers-Kennedy.”

“Might not fit on the jerseys,” Paige goads.

“We’re gonna win the Valkyries a couple of championships,” Tess says. “They’re going to have so much money they’ll figure out how to get our names together on the jerseys.”

Paige smiles again. “That works for me,” she says, softer this time. She presses her lips to Tess’s again, pulling her flush against her body, enveloping her in a warmth she’s content to feel for the rest of her life. Tess grins against her, but Paige responds with a smile of her own, not minding, only holding her tighter.

She doesn’t know how to explain it – this overwhelming happiness. She’s engaged – oh my God, she’s fucking engaged; her parents are going to lose their mind – and she has everything she’s ever wanted. That much was true years ago when she had her natty wins and her girlfriend, but now? She has her fiance and the promise of a future together, on the same team, in the same house in the Bay, and all she really knows is that she can’t wait to walk down that aisle whenever the time comes.

[spookykoolkat]

kinktober | grateful - j.m.

kinktober day nine - cockwarming

pairing: joel miller x plus size!reader

wc: 2.17k

summary: being joel's girlfriend meant you saw sides of him no one else ever saw. one of them was how he just loved to be in your presence, to feel you, to touch you — to be buried inside of you.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS ARE NOT WELCOMED!!! NO AGE = BLOCKED. mentions of violence and sexual violence *if you blink you will miss it it's not a main theme!*, mentions if blood, dirty talk, p in v, cockwarming, slight somno.

an: gosh im so behind on this but i WILL catch up. i have a concert tmrw im very excited! also this one is very short, but i still love it 🥹

reblogs, likes & comments are so very appreciated i love u guys 🥹

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YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT it meant to be in a relationship – with joel. somehow, years after you got lost with the group you’d traveled with for months, you ended up in the midst of a bunch of men on horses pointing their guns at you. 

one of them being joel, and his brother. you were cut up, bloodied and bruised, in the freezing winter with hardly anything on. you remembered looking around you at the men that circled you, your hands raised but just barely because you had a stab wound on your left shoulder, crying. 

“please, i, i can leave just, please don’t kill me, i’ll go,” you cried frantically. 

every thought was going through your mind right now. you were half naked, shivering and near frostbite basically, the only thing warming you up would be the blood pouring from your wounds. there were only two things that could happen. 

they’ll trap you, have their way with you, then leave you for dead. or, they shoot you because they think you’re infected. 

“please don’t hurt me, i’m, i’m not infected, i swear.” you sobbed, looking down at your knees that felt numb being buried in the snow. 

you heard a shuffle, then something hit the floor, and the crunch of snow under a pair of boots. until you saw them right in front of you, and the person lowered themselves down to your height. 

the man tilted your chin up with his glove-covered fingers, and made you look at him. 

“you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of, come on, we’ll get ya some clothes,” 

and that was it. joel was the one who kept you away from the men that stared you down like a piece of meat that day, he kept you away from tommy, who kept telling him it was a bad idea. but quickly referenced when he and ellie came into town, and they took them in like nothing. 

he kept you safe. and he let you stay with him for the time being, until you managed to find a job down at the local bar. then, the two of you kind of went your separate ways. you found a little house at the corner that tommy told joel to give you, and managed to live by yourself for the year you were there. 

joel didn’t want you on patrol routes, or to forage for things that the town needed. he needed you safe, even when he wasn’t there. 

you hadn’t talked to joel, but he managed to come to the tipsy bison every friday, sitting at the bar by himself and watching you. 

“you know,” you start as you are cleaning the beer glasses and wiping down the sticky table after closing. joel was the only one still there. 

“you come here every friday, ever since i started working here, but everyone i’ve ever heard from tells me you like to drink alone. in the comfort of your own house,” you said, wiping the bar down in front of him. 

“jus’ makin’ sure you ain’t in no trouble over here,” he mumbled behind his last drink, downing the rest of the mahogany liquid. he did a subtle look down your shirt as you wiped the bar down in circles, watching your cleavage come into view. 

you just chuckled. “i think i’ll be okay. i promise you’ll be the first one i go to if i need help.” 

that made a small smile tug on his lips. 

“let me walk ya home,” 

so he did. except he didn’t leave after that. that night, the two of you drank a little more at your place, and things got a little heated. in the midst of stretching you out for the very first time, he was whispering things you would’ve claimed were little nothings, but seemed as if he was declaring his need for you. 

“fuck baby, tell me, whose pussy is this? who else is stretchin’ ya out like this?” 

“pretty fuckin’ girl, i swear i’ll fuckin’ kill for ya, won’t let nobody come near ya,” 

“you ain’t leavin’ me, darlin’. this pussy is fuckin’ mine,” 

and you never did, and he always kept his promise. four years later, after him being the one to fix your wounds and give you clothes, a place to stay — you lived with him. ellie ended up being able to take patrol routes occasionally, moving into a small house with dina. she was even glad he had someone to look after him, to take care of him as he cared for everyone. 

joel had just came in towards the end of the night from patrolling with tommy, mumbling about how he’s sort of an idiot. you could barely hear his banter from your bedroom, ears perking up at the sound of the door opening and slamming closed.

“baby?” you called out from the bedroom as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. his eyes searched for you in the darkness of the living room, until he ended up walking to the back hall to the room you both slept in. 

his face softened, giving a little smile as he walked over to you and plopped on the bed next to you. the force almost made you drop the book you were reading, so you dog-eared the page and put it on the table as you turned to curl into him. 

“you smell like outside,” you said as you crinkled your nose. 

“fuckin’ tommy, stressin’ me out. he wanted t’ stay longer for maria just in case but it was a fuckin’ ghost town, nothin’ was even there, but he’s fuckin’ stubborn.” 

you just sighed and let your face rest on his chest as his arm threw over behind you, rubbing the side of your body. “well, you’re home now.” 

he sighed, taking a swig from the beer and moved to put it on the bedside table. he just threw his head back, used his forearm to cover his eyes and breathe in and out. you just looked at him, a little empathetic. 

you started to kiss his chest, the one with the dirty shirt he wore to patrol and up his body, to his neck and jaw. with the movements, you swiftly swung your leg over one side and straddled him, making his arm move and his head tilting down to get a look at you. 

you just watched him, watching you, and smiled as you sat directly on his groin. 

“i know you’re stressed, but,” you started and rubbed over his tummy and pecs, “i need you.” 

you said with lust in your eyes, and he just smirked as he watched you reach under his shirt to feel the warmth of his body. 

“my baby needs me, ‘s that right?” he asked lowly, his voice sounding raspy and gruff. his hands rested on the width of your hips, loving the way you were so curvy and plush for him.

you just nodded, and moved to where you could unbuckle his pants and try to shimmy them down with his help. after you got his pants and boxers to his knees, you spit in your hand and gripped the shaft of his half hard cock. 

“i love you,” you said as you started to feel him harden in your hands, his own hands moving to the tank top you had on and yanking the fabric down to see your breasts. 

“you know i love you, baby,” he said and reached to play with your heavy breasts, tugging your nipple and playing with both of them so he could watch them peak. 

“i’m just real tired, honey,” he started as he felt your grip on his cock soften, and watched your face turn with disappointment until he grabbed your face and made you look at him. 

“you wanna help me out, darlin’?” he asked and you nodded with your eyebrows furrowed, “alright then, come lay down right here,” 

he patted the side of the bed that you slept on, and you let go of his cock before pouting and sliding down to the side next to him. you faced the opposite direction, facing the wall as you heard him get up and start taking all of his clothes off before sliding under the blankets with you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby, such a pretty fuckin’ pussy you have,” he said in your ear as he pulled you flush to his back, gripping your asscheeks before pulling one cheek apart from the other, feeling the wetness you gathered at your cunt. 

“always so wet f’ me, always so good to me,” he breathed on your neck. he felt your legs move apart so he’d have more access, and he just smiled, kissing on your shoulder. 

you didn’t know what he was planning on doing until you felt him guide the tip of his fully hard length up and down your cunt, still using one hand to move the thickness of your ass so he’d have access to your juices.

“joel,” you whined and moved your hips back to his, and finally felt his tip slip inside of you. 

“please,” you begged as he stretched you completely, feeling full even as he’s halfway. 

he lifts the blankets to watch you take him from behind, watching how his cock the was lathered with your juices as he thrusts softly into you before he bottoms out completely. 

but he doesn’t move, and instead kisses on your shoulder before going to your back, kissing there and wrapping his arm around your waist to rest on the fat of your tummy. 

“wait, joel i-” you started before he just squeezed your breast, leaving his hand to rest there. 

“mm-mm, we’re goin’ to sleep,” he said, but the feeling of his cock being buried inside of you was too distracting. you couldn’t sleep. 

“but joel,” you whined, your hand resting on top of his as you felt the heat of his breath against your neck. 

“go to sleep, i promise i’ll give you want you want baby, jus’ let me feel you like this, yeah?” he asks and you involuntarily moan a little, your movements of trying to fuck back on his cock failing. 

“i love feelin’ you like this, sweet girl. could be buried in this fuckin’ cunt for years,” he whispered as he squeezed your tit again, “you fit me so fuckin’ perfectly,” 

“i love when you fill me up, joel,” you whispered ss you hugged his arm, leaving kisses on it and making joel smile against your skin. 

“aw, my baby, loves when i just keep you on my cock, just so i can feel you. love when you keep me warm inside that little fuckin’ cunt,” he growled and you whined, trying to squirm and get some movement in. 

he just holds you tight, not letting you move. the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim made your cunt clench, and he groaned at the feeling. you felt like you were suffocating, practically feeling his cock in your throat as he just laid there behind you and kissed your skin. 

“go to sleep, baby. i promise i’ll make ya cum over n’ over til’ i gotta leave,” he said, and your heart skipped a beat at the proposition.you knew he was telling the truth, because he’s done it before. 

he’s made you soak the sheets before it even hit six in the morning, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and ravishing in it. the best thing he could ever do with his time is watch you fall apart because of him, and make you feel good. 

so, you fell asleep with him still inside of you, feeling the dull throb of his cock and your cunt mixed together, the feeling of when he would move to pull you closer because he slipped out of you a little bit. 

he craved you, even in his sleep. 

and the next morning when he woke up, he was still buried inside of you and looked at where you two connected, seeing the pool of your arousal leaking onto him, and on the bed. 

so he kept his promise, and used the newfound arousal you built up to slide out of you, and slide right back in. until you woke up, and tightened on his cock as he fucked you awake. 

joel was obsessed with you, and that meant if he could have you sitting on his cock while he did his day to day things, he would. and he’s tried. but feeling you soak him, squeeze him and cry out for him made him feel a whole other type of gratuity. 

you were grateful he was the one that took you in, he was the one that cared for you and protected you, and he was grateful that you let him walk you home that night, grateful that you only trusted him and not anyone else. 

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TAGLIST

@awilderi @nerdieforpedro @cyb3rluvvxx @joelmillers-girl @pedritoferg @bethanymccauley @dirtydianaahah

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[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 5)

I just wanted to apologise to everyone for going M.I.A. over the last few months. It's been a lot—new job, Christmas, etc. I haven't forgotten about this fanfic, nor have I forgotten how much love it's been receiving since the first chapter. Thank you again, guys. SMUT is coming VERY soon, but remember, this is a slow burn… ;)

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1 Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @littlenosoul @the-freak-cassie-313 @rainy-darling @nina-from-317 @galacticglitterglue @stanseventeen @sakurasimppp @seedlingghost @losingmygrasponreality @mindsofjade @insomniacfigure

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The day you return to school comes far too soon. You managed to get by by skipping Friday, but today is Monday, and you can’t afford to miss another day. The lessons are piling up, and with tests looming closer—especially as the end of the year nears—catching up is no longer an option.

This morning, your dad dropped you off before heading to work. When you close the car door behind you and face the school building, you take a shaky breath. You’re prepared to face whatever consequences come from your decisions, but you can’t shake the tight knot of anxiety in your stomach.

You scan the parking lot filled with students, searching for the familiar faces of Tina, Vicky, or Carol, but you don’t see them. Instead, your gaze lands on Billy. He’s leaning against the side of his car, chatting with Max. Max has her backpack slung over one shoulder and his skateboard on the other, while Billy pulls a cigarette from his pack, both of them seemingly deep in some animated argument.

You hesitate. Do you approach him? You called him the day after that night, like he asked, and he reassured you that Monday would be fine—that you shouldn’t worry. But after that, you didn’t hear from him. You’re left with no clue where you stand with him. After that kiss... what are you? Are you still friends? Or something more?

You try to push away any hope, but a small part of you can’t help it. The uncertainty lingers, weighing on you.

As if he feels the pressure of your gaze, Billy turns his head. Your eyes meet.

Max, still talking and gesturing, notices Billy’s gaze and follows it to where you’re standing. Billy lifts his hand, waving for you to join them. You tighten your grip on the strap of your backpack, walking toward them, mentally preparing for whatever might happen.

“You okay?” Billy asks when you reach them.

“Hey, yeah.”

Billy glances back at Max. “You got that?”

“Billy, it’s not like I’m…”

“I don’t care,” he cuts Max off sharply. Max opens her mouth, as if she’s about to protest, but then thinks better of it. She looks away, her expression a mix of scowl and concern. You’re not sure what’s going on, but Billy doesn’t seem to notice. His blue eyes remain locked on her face, intense and unwavering. “You really want that to happen again? Do you like pushing him until things blow up?”

“Of course I don’t!” she scowls, looking back at him. 

“Then stop being so goddamn stubborn and do as I say.” Billy lights a cigarette, his eyes staying fixed on Max. You shift uncomfortably, unsure whether to look away or stay. This moment between the two step-siblings feels more personal than you’re ready for, and you're left wondering what's going on.

“You’ll have plenty of time on the weekends. Otherwise, it’s straight home after school.”

“Alright.” Max grits her teeth as she says it, though it’s clear her frustration is with the situation rather than Billy himself.

Billy watches her for a long moment, taking a drag from his cigarette as if assessing whether she’s truly accepted his ultimatum. Max holds his gaze at first but eventually looks away, her discomfort evident, even though she tries to hide it. Billy’s stare is intense, like he’s daring her to challenge him again.

“You’re gonna be late. Go to class.” Billy jerks his chin toward Hawkins Middle School, a few feet away from the high school. “I’ll see you by the car at four.”

Max says a soft “hi” to you before leaving, heading off with her skateboard. You watch her go in silence, your eyes shifting back to Billy as the tension lingers in the air.

“Is everything okay?”

Billy exhales a long sigh, tapping the cigarette and flicking the ashes onto the ground. “Yeah. Just gotta remind her how things work around here from time to time.”

“She seems upset…”

“Well, next time, she better listen so she won’t be.”

You notice the tense set of his jaw and the way his gaze stays locked on Max’s retreating figure, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this—so tightly wound.

“Billy…” you say softly. “It’s normal for a kid her age to push boundaries sometimes.”

“Not in this household.” Billy shakes his head, his hand holding the cigarette rising to his face as he scratches his eyebrow with an irritated flick of his thumb. “And she knows it. She fucking knows it. But she keeps going rogue.” You fall silent, sensing the weight in his words, and your nerves spike as you wonder if there’s something deeper behind this. You don’t want to push him to talk, but you can feel the storm brewing inside him.

He takes a drag from his cigarette, his hand trembling slightly before he speaks again. “Neil went ballistic last night.”

“What did he do?” you ask, a wave of concern rushing through you. “Did he hurt her?”

“No.” Billy’s voice is rough, but he shakes his head, his eyes flicking away for a moment. “He got close, but…”

“Oh God…”

“It’s fine. He didn’t touch her. I stepped in before it got worse.”

Billy’s gaze stays fixed on the distance past your shoulder. It’s obvious he’s trying to push the conversation away, but you can sense there’s more that he’s not saying.

“So he hit you?” you ask, a knot of dread forming deep in your chest. Billy shakes his head, letting out a frustrated sigh as he shifts against the car, finally meeting your gaze again.

“I’m fine. He was too drunk to even hit me properly.”

Relief washes over you, and you nod, taking in a breath. “Alright, but—this can’t keep going on…”

Before you can finish, Billy surprises you, reaching out and pulling you close by the waist. Your hands land against his chest, and you’re suddenly close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palms.

“Hey, it’s all good. I’ve got it,” he reassures you, his voice softer now, but the intensity is still there, buried under the surface. 

This closeness leaves you momentarily speechless, sending your mind into a tailspin. You try to pull yourself together, feeling your heartbeats quicken as you're flush against him. “But…”

“It’s always a rollercoaster with him. As long as we know how to move around him it’s gonna be ok.” still holding you against him with his other hand, he brings the cigarette to his mouth and takes another puff. You’re too entranced by his scent, his red mouth as he exhales the smoke on the side to avoid blowing it on your face. “Stop worrying so much.”

You shake your head in defeat, your mind silently racing as he finishes his cigarette. There is a reason why you worry so much. Billy can downplay it all he wants, but you are fully aware of what his father represents. You have seen it on his skin, in his eyes and in his attitude when he’s around older men. Max is so young and you are certain that Neil has touched her mother as well. You wonder what she looks like; you've never met her. Billy brings you back to the present moment by gently squeezing your waist. His tourmaline eyes roam over your face. The combination of his gaze, so casual, and his warm hand touching your body sends you into heat. 

“You good?” 

You know what he’s referring to. For a moment you stopped thinking about it. Now it comes back in full force and your anxiety is increasing with every second. You feel overwhelmed by this emotion along with how flush his closeness makes you feel. Your mouth feels dry.  “I don’t know. I don’t know how it’s gonna be.” 

“You’re fine. Nothing’s gonna happen. Alright?” 

You nod, unconvinced, and as he brings his face closer to yours, his breath fanning over your face, mint an tobacco. Your heart races quickly as his lips brush against yours. You struggle to realise it, you didn't think he would kiss you again so soon. You certainly didn't think he would kiss you here. It is as if an electric shock was born from your kiss. The surprise triggered by the fact that what happened the other night is not just a vague memory makes you even more euphoric. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, pulling you flush against him. You completely ignore the risk of burning yourself with his cigarette, which continues to die slowly, held between the fingers of his free hand. You rest your hands on his shoulders, denim against your skin. The rest of the people, the sounds around you disappear. You are awash in the passion with which he kisses you, makes you euphoric. His hand leaves your waist and comes to rest on your cheek and you give him space, your hands descend to his chest. The sound of the bell breaks the moment, but you both seem to struggle to break the kiss. You are aware that you must enter the building but each time you pull your lips away Billy chases you, urging you to chase him back. After an eternity, perhaps because you are both out of breath, your lips part with difficulty and you squint, dazed. Your mind tries to regain focus as they move from his heated gaze to where your hands lie against his chest, tucked white shirt in denim jeans. His necklace. He squeezes your waist, as he exhales against your lips. You do not dare to meet his gaze because you know you would not be able to resist him. You have to go back to class. Billy seems to think the same as you because he pulls his face away slightly, bringing the cigarette back to his mouth between the two of you. It is now practically finished. Tilts his head back as he exhales. You eye his Adam apple. 

“Well, shit.” he clears his throat, a chuckle leaving his lips as his eyes briefly look past your shoulder. This makes you feel hotter, flattered by his exclamation. You understand very well what he feels. You feel yourself going up in flames as much as he does. “Guess we gotta go now,” he mutters, his eyes finding yours. 

It is as if he is seeking your confirmation.  It's clear that neither of you wants to move from here. 

“Yeah. Yes, let's go,” you nod, shaken and still dazed. You move away from him slowly, aware that if you moved too quickly you would stumble or lose your balance. 

Most of the students have already entered the building, but some of them are lounging by the entrance, and some of them are looking at you and Billy as you both walk in. It is likely, indeed certain, that they have seen you back in the parking lot. You decide to ignore their persistent stares completely. You feel relieved when you notice the absence of familiar faces once you are in the main hallway. Maybe you can avoid unpleasant situations at least until lunchtime. You turn to Billy, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. It's time to part. You won’t share History class together today. 

“I'll stay in the library to study later today,” you inform him. You have a habit of always going home together, but you have a Chemistry test in two days and need to study.

Billy doesn’t look at you. His eyes are fixed on something to your right. You know that look. You follow his gaze and spot Tommy Hagan by the trophy cases at the end of the hallway.

“Billy?”

“You said Carol was with Tina that day?” His voice is low, but it’s more of a statement than a question. Your heart sinks as you quickly put the pieces together.

“No, Billy, please don’t make a scene.”

His eyes never meet yours. “It’s alright.”

“Billy—”

Billy whistles sharply, cutting you off. “Hey, Hagan!” Tommy Hagan turns around, his indifferent expression shifting to concern when he sees Billy heading his way. You hesitate behind him, dread pooling in your stomach. What is Billy going to do?

“Can I have a word?” Billy calls out as he strides toward Tommy.

Tommy glances between Billy and you, uncertainty written across his face. “Uh, sure.”

“Your girlfriend and I have a problem,” Billy starts, his tone sharp. You feel agitation rise in your chest, already dreading where this is going.

Tommy’s brows furrow. “What?”

“Tell her to quit bothering her.” Billy points to you with a sharp motion of his thumb. Tommy’s gaze follows Billy’s direction, then his expression shifts into one of incredulity, followed by a short burst of laughter.

“What? Are you s—”

Billy cuts him off. “See, I don’t beat up girls.” his tone casual, almost dismissive. “I’m not an animal. But if she doesn’t stop with the bitching right now, it’s your ass next.”

You rush toward them, tugging weakly at Billy’s arm as students begin to slow down, watching the scene unfold. “Billy, come on.”

Billy doesn’t budge. He looks at Tommy, who’s starting to squirm under the pressure, and adds, “You got the hint pretty quickly. So why don’t you do the same with her? Update her on how things are gonna be from now on. I won’t be so nice next time.”

The calmness in Billy’s voice is chilling, but his eyes are a storm, seething beneath the surface. “You hear me?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, his blue eyes piercing through Tommy like a warning.

Tommy stiffens, looking down, unable to hold eye contact. He nods several times, trying to keep his composure. “Yeah, man. Safe and sound.”

Billy nods, slaps Tommy on the shoulder with a casual, almost condescending gesture. “Thanks.”

As you both walk side by side down the corridor, you feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, the whispers and stares burning a hole through you. You can’t shake the feeling that every step is being scrutinized.

Luckily, you don’t share first period with Tina. Chemistry is just Carol and Vicky, and while they shoot you their usual derisive looks, they don’t say a word. Without Tina, they seem to lose their bite, their presence fading without their leader to prop them up. It suits you just fine.

The rest of the morning goes by without any issues, but by the time lunch ends and Math class rolls around, unease settles in your stomach. Tina is in that class with you. When she walks in, you brace yourself, expecting some kind of confrontation. But instead, she just shoots you a dark look and storms past your desk without a word. Her footsteps are heavy, her scowl deep. You hear her drop onto her chair behind you with a loud thud, the sound making you tense.

You’ve never seen her like this.

The teacher walks in, pulling her things from her duffle bag as the usual classroom chatter hums around you. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Carol abruptly getting up from her seat next to Vicky and making a beeline for Tina. Your stomach tightens. You risk a glance their way. They’re whispering, fast and animated, their heads ducked close. It doesn’t look good.

As if sensing your gaze, Tina looks up—and locks eyes with you.

Her icy stare makes you go stiff. She tongues her cheek, her expression a mix of defiance and contempt. You swallow and turn back to your desk, willing yourself to ignore it.

The rest of the afternoon drags unbearably slow. You wait for something to happen, for one of them to approach you between classes, to say something, do something. But nothing comes. By the time the final bell rings, you take your time packing up, head down, hoping to avoid them in the hallway. But they don’t even acknowledge you as they leave.

Relief floods you when you’re the last to say goodbye to the teacher. You make it to the library without issue, slipping inside where it’s mostly empty—most students eager to escape the school building as soon as possible. You pass a quiet boy from your class who glances up at the sound of your footsteps, offering you a shy smile before returning to his book.

You settle at one of the farthest tables, tucked behind a bookshelf. No one bothers you, but focusing is impossible. Your thoughts spiral. Tina’s strange behavior, Billy. Especially Billy.

His hands. His lips. His gaze.

The two kisses.

By the time you’re leaving the building, your mind is still clouded with him. You’re nearly at the exit when you hear male voices behind you. Then, a whistle.

Your body tenses instinctively, already on guard, ready to shut down whoever decided to be an idiot today. But when you turn around, you’re met with a different sight.

Billy.

“Hey.” he approaches you with his sports bag slung over his shoulder, his teammates behind him.

“Hey..” 

“See ya, man.” the boys greet him, throwing you a brief glance as they all walk past you. 

“I didn’t know you had practice today.”

Billy shrugs. “Didn’t know either, they moved it from Friday to tonight.” 

His hair has lost some of its volume, damp curls falling over his forehead, with smaller strands clinging to his neck. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a t-shirt under his denim jacket, nothing like what you’re used to seeing him in. Usually, when he has practice, you go home alone.

The sight of him like this stirs something in you, something you can’t quite put into words. There’s a familiarity to it, a quiet intimacy. Stripped of leather, denim, silver rings, and a perfectly styled haircut, he feels… softer. Warmer. Like home.

“Watcha still doing here?” he asks you. You can smell his shampoo mixed with his cologne. You try not to drop your eye on his mouth as he chews on a gum. 

“I was in the library.” he indeed wasn’t listening to you earlier this morning.

“Good thing I got practice then, huh?” he jerks his chin toward the exit behind you, as he starts walking toward it, so you follow along.

As you both step out of the high school, the heavy doors swinging shut behind you, you’re immediately met by the warmth of the evening air. The parking lot is bathed in golden light. The lingering heat from the sun settles over your skin like a comforting blanket, thick with the scent of summer grass and faint traces of freshly cut lawns from the nearby fields.

The sky is a vast canvas of soft, golden light, stretching high and clear, only just beginning to fade toward deeper blues at the edges.

“So how was your day?” he asks. 

“It was fine.”

“Yeah? Everything went well?”

You actually want to ask him if he had anything to do with Tina, Vicky and Carol's behaviour. But you prefer to wait until you are both in the car. 

“Yeah. How was yours? Was practice okay?”

“Not too bad. Coach gave us some shit 'cause the big game against Chesterton’s coming up. He says they’ve got a couple of new guys who are supposed to be real hotshots, so he’s on us to keep our heads in the game,” he says as he drops his sports bag in the trunk. “Keeps saying it’s our ‘chance to prove ourselves.’ Like winning every other game wasn’t enough.”

The sounds of the quiet parking lot surround you, the slamming of car doors, and the subtle echo of laughter from the rest of the basketball team as they all leave. 

“Is he always this harsh to you?” 

“Always is. Eh, who cares. Got used to it.”

The inside of the car is stifling after being parked in the sun all day, the black leather almost burning your skin as you sit down. You breathe a sigh of relief when Billy rolls down both windows, letting in a rush of fresh air.

“Yeah, it’s boiling in here. Do you have plans?” Billy asks as you pull out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“Not really, no,” you answer. During the week you normally just stay at home. You turn to look at him, curious. “Why?”

“Let’s head to the lake. Freshen up a bit.” 

“Oh. You wanna swim?” 

“Yeah, why not. It’s warm enough now.” 

You find yourself at a loss for words, his sudden offer making your stomach twist with unease. The two of you have never swum together, always staying near the water’s edge. You knew the time would come sooner or later if you kept going to Lovers Lake as summer arrived, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon. So, you come up with the lamest excuse possible.

“Uhm, can we do it another day? I don’t have my swimsuit with me.”

“We can stop by your house to get it.”

“But you don’t have your swimming trunks either.” 

Billy waves his hand in a dismissive gesture as he reaches for his pack of cigarettes. “Don’t need it. Just gonna use my gym shorts.”   

You find yourself speechless. Not knowing which excuse to find.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna-”

“No, no. I want to!” you rush. You don't want to miss an opportunity to spend time with him. Even if you have to risk him not liking what he sees once you’re in nothing but a swimsuit. “I was just... never mind. Let's go, let's stop at mine to pick it up.”

You tell Billy to wait in the car—you won’t be long. As soon as you shut the front door behind you, you rush to the bathroom, grabbing your razor in a frenzy. In your haste, you nick your calf, wincing as a thin line of red beads on your skin. But there’s no time to dwell on it. You finish up quickly, dart to your room, and snatch your bikini on the fly, slipping it on before pulling your clothes back over it.

When you step outside, you immediately spot Eddie Munson standing by the Camaro, right in front of Billy’s door. You haven’t seen him in days. His trailer door is open behind you, he must’ve stepped out when he heard the engine.

He glances up as you approach, offering a nod in greeting before turning his attention back to Billy. You catch the tail end of their conversation as Eddie gestures to one of the many tattoos inked across his bare forearm.

“...sick, man.”

“I can ink you up sometime. Just tell me your price and I’ll cut you a deal,” Eddie shrugs. “I’m flexible.” 

“Sweet. That’d be great.”

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Eddie straightens up, his gaze flicking to yours. You’ve never talked much. He seems like a nice guy, but there’s always been something about him that makes you a little hesitant, a little shy. Maybe it’s the ever-present chain hanging from his jeans. Maybe it’s the way he’s always dressed in black. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Hi, not too bad,” you reply giving him a small smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good yeah. See you.” he starts walking backward toward his trailer, then points at Billy. “You got yourself a nice guy.” 

“Oh. It’s huh, it’s, wer-re not-” you stutter, feeling your cheeks heat up. Eddie throws his hands up in a quick, playful gesture — palms outward, fingers spread slightly, as if to say, "Alright, alright, I'll shut up." His grin is boyish and teasing.

“My bad! Didn’t mean to assume,” he chuckles, starting to backpedal toward his trailer. “Catch you later, neighbor.”

You glance at Billy as he leaves the dirt road and turns onto the main road. You hadn’t realized he and Eddie were so close—he never mentioned seeing him.

“Are you thinking of getting another one?”

“Huh?”

“Another tattoo,” you clarify.

“Oh.” A grin spreads across his face. “Yeah. Definitely. Got something in mind.”

“Where would you get it?” you ask, intrigued by his vague answer.

Silence.

You turn toward him in question, only to flinch slightly when you feel his fingers brush against your skin. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road as his fingertips graze your calf, his palm settling on your shin. A jolt of electricity shoots through you as you realize—this is his answer.

“Nothing too big,” he says. “Thinking red ink.”

“Oh.” You try to sound casual, as if his touch isn’t setting you on fire. “That sounds like a really cool idea.”

Billy hums in response, and the silence that follows is thick—charged—because his hand is still there, warm, his fingers idly stroking your skin. Luckily, your house is only half a mile from the lake. You’ll be there soon.

The water is still a little too cool for you, so after a quick dip, you climb out. Lover’s Lake is peaceful in the early summer evening, the water stretches wide and glassy, mirroring the sky’s soft hues. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the occasional ripple breaking the surface as a fish moves below. A gentle breeze rustles the trees, carrying the faint sound of crickets just beginning their nightly chorus. The sun hasn’t set completely yet, but the sky is shifting—shadows stretching long over the dock, the horizon painted in streaks of orange and pink.

An hour later, you both end up in your usual spot—one of the docks where you’d sit to study or just unwind. Billy props himself up on his forearms beside you, his tanned arms illuminated by the fading sunlight. Your eyes drift over his sandy blond curls, messy from the water. You have the urge to run your fingers through them, but you hold back. You’re not sure you have that kind of confidence, not yet—not with him. Even though you’ve kissed twice now, you’re afraid of pushing too much.

“Jason’s throwing a party,” Billy says suddenly.

“Oh.” The statement catches you off guard. You watch as he pulls a cigarette from his pack and places it between his lips. “Jason as in Jason Carver?”

Billy nods as he lights the cigarette with one hand, his other arm still resting on the dock. For a brief moment, his eyelashes brush against his cheek, and you find yourself staring. You follow the movement of his hand, the way his thumb lingers on the grill of the lighter before he flicks it shut and places it back down. He takes a slow drag, then pulls the cigarette away, exhaling a cloud of smoke. You love his hands.

“Tomorrow.”

You assume he’s going. Billy has never missed a party. There are rumors about him being the life of them, and yet you struggle to reconcile that version of him—the one who drinks, fights, and lets loose—with the one sitting beside you now. The boy who lent you his jacket, who hugged you, who shares this quiet moment with you. The same boy who once punched someone so hard he knocked out a tooth, nearly sending him into a coma, blood splattering across the pavement.

“Will you go?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

Billy exhales another cloud of smoke, his voice slightly rough as he stifles a cough. “Yeah. Haven’t been to one in a while.”

You hum in acknowledgment, your gaze drifting toward the opposite shore. The sun has completely set now, and though the air is still warm, the sky has darkened. Your legs float lazily in the water, barely submerged. You’re not sure if you’d feel cold, but Billy doesn’t seem to mind.

“You should come.”

Your gaze snaps back to him. At first, you’re silent, caught between surprise and uncertainty, unsure if he’s being serious.

“Me?”

“You,” he repeats, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Billy.” You let out an uneasy laugh. “You know I’ve never been to any of those parties.”

“There’s always a first time.”

You’ve never felt comfortable with the idea of parties. You know you wouldn’t fit in, would probably feel out of place—maybe even unwelcome. Rejected. And after what happened with Tina, the thought of walking into one now feels even worse. You can’t hold your tongue now that it’s on your mind again.

“Can I ask what you told Tina earlier?”

Billy looks momentarily taken aback. Then he scratches his cheek with the hand holding his cigarette, his gaze shifting past you to where the Camaro is parked in the distance.

“Aw, why are you still thinking about that bitch? Forget her. She ain’t gonna do shit anymore.”

You nudge his arm lightly with your thigh, your voice gentle but firm. “Billy.”

He looks back at you. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling as the silence stretches between you.

“What have you done?” 

For the first time, his expression shifts—like a door slamming shut between you. The warmth in his eyes cools, his features hardening in a way you’ve never seen before. His jaw tightens, lips pressing into a firm line as if holding something back. The cigarette lingers between his fingers, forgotten. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it, sharp and unwavering.

"What, you think I’d hit a woman?"

There’s no anger, no outburst—just a quiet offense, a distance that wasn’t there a moment ago. His gaze, once open and familiar, now feels just out of reach. 

The change in him is instant, and it hits you like a splash of cold water. Your stomach tightens. You don’t like this—this sudden distance, the way he looks at you like you're someone else entirely. 

“No, that’s not what I meant!”

The words rush out, a little too fast, a little too desperate to pull him back from whatever place he’s just gone to. But he doesn’t soften. He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he flicks the ash off his cigarette, his gaze drifting somewhere past you, jaw still locked tight.

You shift closer, hesitating before reaching for his arm. “Billy,” you say, quieter now, trying to catch his eyes. “I wasn’t accusing you. I just… I just want to know what happened.”

Still, nothing. The silence stretches, thick and heavy between you. It’s like watching a storm settle over the ocean—calm on the surface, but something deep and dangerous churning underneath.

Your chest tightens. You don’t like this. You don’t like how far away he suddenly feels.

“Please,” you murmur. “Talk to me.”

For a second, you think he might not answer. Then, finally, he exhales—sharp, controlled, smoke curling from his lips before he mutters, “Forget it.”

But you can’t. Not now. 

Your fingers tighten slightly on his arm. “Billy, please. I didn’t mean it like that.” You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. It just—” You pause, searching for the right words, for something that will pull him back. “Tina looked at me like she wanted to kill me today. In class. Just full-on daggers in her eyes. But she never said a word. Never even walked up to me.”

His expression doesn’t shift immediately, but you see the smallest flicker of something—acknowledgment, maybe. You push forward.

“I don’t get it,” you continue, voice softer now, careful. “I know she hates me, I could feel it. But she just sat there, staring. Why? What happened?”

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, still distant, but the tension in his jaw eases—just a little. The silence stretches, but this time, it feels different. Less cold. More like he’s deciding something.

Finally, he takes another slow drag of his cigarette, then speaks. “I talked to her earlier.”

You wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. That’s not enough. You need more.

“What did you say to her?”

Billy exhales. “Told her whatever this thing is she’s got with you, it’s done. That I don’t want to hear about it, and she sure as hell better not try dragging me into it.” his voice is calm but firm, no room for argument. “Told her to get over it and move the fuck on.”

His confession stirs something warm inside you, something that spreads too fast, too deep. The conviction in his voice, the way he says it like it’s the simplest truth in the world—it’s almost too much. You swallow hard, trying to process it, but the feeling is overwhelming, almost suffocating in its intensity.

Billy shifts beside you, exhaling sharply through his nose like he’s only just realizing how serious he sounded. He drags a hand through his hair, ruffling the curls at the nape of his neck, then drops it, fingers tapping idly against the dock. He doesn’t meet your eyes right away, gaze flicking toward the water instead.

“Thank you,” you say eventually, your voice quieter than you intended. “I just don’t want you getting antagonized by everyone because of me. That’s the last thing I want.”

Billy scoffs, a short, dismissive laugh. “As if I give a shit what these hick townies think of me.”

You don’t respond. Instead, you watch as he stubs out his cigarette against the wooden dock beside your legs. He seems so sure of what he’s saying. And deep down, you’ve always known it to be true—Billy has never cared about anyone’s opinion. You’ve seen it in the way he carries himself, from the very first time you spotted him in the school hallways.

“Tommy H’s stupid freckled face can kiss my ass.”

The statement is so unexpected that you freeze for a second. Then you press your legs together, fighting back a laugh. Billy swats away a fly that’s just landed on your knee, his hand lingering for a moment. His touch is warm, grounding, and for the first time tonight, the tension seems to ease. There’s even the ghost of a reluctant smile on his lips. The shift in atmosphere washes over you like a wave of relief.

“So…” he starts, his thumb dragging idly along your knee.

You glance at him, curious. “Yes?”

“Are you coming or not?”

It takes a second for his words to register. When they do, you let out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. “Billy, I’m not going to the party.”

“Why not?”

“...You know it’s not my thing.” the admission feels uncomfortable, like you’re exposing something shameful about yourself. “I’d just feel weird.”

“That’s ‘cause you’ve never tried it.”

“What makes you think Tina won’t bother me there? Everyone’s gonna be drinking, and—”

“You’ll be with me the whole time, sweetheart.” His voice is smooth, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like you’re just making excuses.

You shoot him a doubtful look. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he’d stick by your side all night. You’re still not convinced.

And he sees it.

Because suddenly, he lifts your leg gently, slipping beneath it as he moves closer, settling himself between your thighs. His presence feels different like this—closer, more deliberate. The warmth of his hands against your skin sends a shiver through you, but it’s not from the water.

“Come on.”

“What?” you ask with a nervous giggle, your heart stammering in your chest. His arms brush against your legs, his torso barely grazing your inner thighs.

“It’s gonna be fun.” His grin is subtle, teasing, like he already knows he’s winning.

He props himself up on his hands, the wooden dock creaking beneath the movement. The water sways below. And then his face is level with yours, his blue eyes half-lidded but impossibly intense, locking onto you like a challenge.

“Come to the party with me.”

“Billy… I…” You sigh, knowing—knowing—that right now, if he asked you to jump off a bridge, you’d probably do it without hesitation.

And when his lips brush the corner of your mouth, you know it’s over.

“Come with me.”

His voice is low, like velvet, pulling you in deeper. It’s a command, but it’s also a plea, soft but insistent. He doesn’t kiss you fully—not yet. His mouth hovers near yours, teasing, coaxing, almost as if he’s waiting for you to lean in, waiting for you to make the next move. The air between you is thick with tension, with something unspoken that neither of you can escape.

His lips place slow, wet, open mouthed kisses on your cheek. Like he has all the time in the world. And maybe he does, because you haven’t pulled away. His touch is warm, sending a trail of fire through your veins, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Say yes.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and final. Your chest tightens. You don’t know what to say, what to do. He’s got you on the edge, holding you there, the answer in his eyes, in his touch, in the way he leans closer, as if he's asking for more than just a yes. He wants all of you.

And then, his lips are on yours, deep and slow, like he’s savoring every second, every movement. The kiss is everything. The world spins around you, and all you can feel is him, the heat of his skin, the press of his body against yours.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t break the kiss until you’ve lost track of time, until your mind is completely clouded with nothing but him. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, to his chest, holding onto him like he’s the only thing grounding you in this dizzying whirlwind.

And then he pulls away, but just enough for him to look into your eyes, his breath mingling with yours, his gaze dark, but searching.

“Say yes.”

You swallow hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. You’re on the edge, you know you are. And you can feel it, deep down, in your bones, that there’s no going back.

“Yes.”

[anjelicawrites]

Another blurb that ran away from me and developed on its own. John Price x reader. SFW but 18 + only please!

If this was an 80's movie, this would be the moment when the record scratches into a halt, and you'd say something like "Yeah, that's me! And if you're wondering how I got here...", meaning hovering near your front door where Captain John Price is shirtless, eating a bowl of muesli with the most believable case of bed hair, as your ex is trying to win a stare contest against him, well, it's all your ex's fault, to be honest.

The asshole, meaning your ex, had decided to ditch you, after a five years relationship, when you two were talking about getting married, for a colleague, who had fucked him for a while and then moved on to someone else. The asshole, your ex, had then tried to start things back with you, right when you were out of the mourning period and did not want to try again: he's lost his chance and you're nobody's bloody rebound, right? No, it seemed, since he kept sending you gifts and flowers you promptly threw in the trash, kept calling you multiple times every day, even managing to get a hold of your new phone number, changing his whenever you tried to block him. He had even started to pop by your house, every Saturday morning, to rope you into these long conversation, which ended with him either telling you to rethink your decision, or that he will wear you down until you'll forfeit your silly ideas.

Suffice to say that your nerves were frayed, you had been stress baking for the better part of two months, bringing the excess of it you couldn't share with your neighbors to the base, counting on the personnel there to demolish the daily equivalent of the production of a small bakery.

You didn't think anyone would notice how anxious and tired you have been, how easily a noise would startle you or that you were constantly near tears because of every small mistake you did at work; for the most part you were right, no one took notice, no one but Captain Price.

Being the person who is at the end of the chain of organization and storage of all the reports written in the base, means him and his men interact with you constantly, mostly because they're late with their paperwork and you're tired of waiting. You're the one who keeps order in the chaos with a level of patience and over fixation Price has only seen in people ready for martyrdom, or serial killers. He likes you, genuinely, for the glimpses of personality that you let out at work, hell! Even when you have to pop by his office to remind him of the reports you're still missing, you're never an asshole, just someone who knows he's overworked, who understands it, but who is in no better waters than he is, so please, can he help you out at the best of his abilities? Absolutely, ma'am, and not only when paperwork is almost swallowing the two of you, you just need to give him a chance!

You never meant to share your issues with him, the guy is a colleague and you aren't even military bloody hell! But that fateful Friday afternoon you were truly at the end of your rope, desperate for a solution that seemed to elude you (despite everything you didn't want to go the police) and he was there, up on the roof where everyone goes to have smoke in peace, his eyes so soft and understanding that you had opened the floodgates, told him everything because you needed a sympathetic ear (you didn't cry, even though you almost did when he had put his big hand on your shoulder to comfort you).

He had listened, intently, unlit cigar forgot in the pocket of his military issued shirt. He had mulled over everything while you were busy blowing your nose and his lips had curved in a smile that spelled trouble.

"It's a bit cheeky." You had responded to his plan. "And I can't ask you to do that."

He had finally lit his cigar and stared at you with eyes so full of mischief you had felt warmth flood your whole body.

"You're not asking, love, I'm offering."

You had rummaged into your purse to find your own cigarettes, and to take a breather from his blue eyes boring into yours.

"Do you really think it would work?" "Muppets like him hold more respect for another man's words than they do to anything else."

And they probably don't want to mess with someone who is in the military, you think.

"What if he doesn't pop by tomorrow?" "Has he, ever?" "Nope."

Anxiety sank her claws into you again: not another Saturday morning lost listening to your ex's whines and bitching!

"Let's do this!" You quipped, before you could change your mind.

Price arrives at the brink of dawn, strangely chipper for someone who must have had just a handful of hours of sleep. He makes sure to park his car where it can be easily spotted and to give you one old T-shirt of his for "realism" (the theater kid in him is having a field day, the early Internet days troll is elated: he doesn't get to be this petty at work as much as he likes).

You are still half asleep, this must be why you keep stealing glances at him as your brain keeps telling you how handsome he is in civilian clothes, and without a hat, how big his shoulders are now that he's sitting on the tiny chairs in your kitchen, drinking tea from one of your cat themed mugs.

"You hair needs to be a bit more tousled." You say, when you hear your ex's unmistakable ring at the door.

Without thinking you push your hands in his short strands and just scruff everything up, until he looks like he's fresh out of bed.

"It's showtime." He winks at you.

You try not to stop breathing when he removes his hoodie and shirt: Jesus Christ the man is packed and clothes don't make him justice! You have to force yourself from staring at the dark hairs on his chest, and the dog tags glinting in the morning sun.

Leisurely he grabs the bowl he's filled with yogurt and muesli, his naked feet slap on the tiled floor; you can't see his face, he's already sporting the most bored, uninterested expression he can muster.

From the kitchen you can hear your ex's indignant "Who are you?", followed by Price's "Who are you, mate.": how does he know that your ex hates when he's getting a question for an answer?

"You're in my partner's house!"

You can picture the way his cheeks must be turning red with anger, what you can't imagine is the long, bored, stare that Prices gives him, scanning him head to toe, only to get back to his breakfast, because the other man is not a threat.

"So, you're the loser who's sniffing around what's mine when I'm away, defending this Country."

You cringe: it's a bit too macho and chauvinistic for your tastes, but there's a message that needs to be send.

"What's yours? What's yours?" Your ex screams. "We've been together for five years!"

There's a bit of silence, broken only by Price's munching on the muesli.

"You forgot about that when you decided to go fuck that other bird, didn't you?

This is your moment. On a whim you remove your jogger pants before you join John, who is still leaning against the door frame: you're going off scrip a little, but it shouldn't be an issue.

"John? What's the racket?"

Your hair is already a mess, thanks to the ungodly hour your alarm clock had awoken you, add your naked legs and the sleepy way you're rubbing your eyes, you look like someone who has been fucked into the bed and is still trying to collect their bearings.

"Nothing, love, go back to sleep."

Your ex is fuming when he sees you slide under John's arm, who hugs you closer to his big body and kisses the top of your head.

"What's this?" Your ex screams in your face. "This is John, the man who has been making me happy ever since you left me."

Your ex is gasping, you're enjoying the way he's not finding his words.

"You didn't tell me!" "I didn't have to, it's none of your business who is fucking me so good I don't have to fake an orgasm or two to inflate his pride. You should have listened to me when I told you I'm not interested anymore."

Around your shoulder John's arm tenses when you ex lifts his hand, as if he wants to slap you.

"You're nothing but a cheap whore." "Who will not fuck you for all the money in the world." You hiss.

Calmly, John pushes you behind him and stands in his full height in front of your ex.

"Listen, muppet, I'm letting you go easy this time because I don't want to cause a scene. You call my partner a whore, you keep harassing them, and you'll have to eat through a tube for months."

The sheer malice, the threat that's lacing John's words sends a shiver down your spine: he's not playing around for the sake of this whole scene, he will hurt your ex if he keeps popping back in your life. You know you shouldn't like this, but you're so done with him stalking you that a part of you is preening.

John stands tall in front of you, arms crossed despite the bowl; you can't see the way his whole face turns dark when a joyless smile graces his lips, you notice the slight hip trust he does, as if he's challenging your ex to come at him. He doesn't pull away from the doorway until your ex slams the door of his car and races away as if the Devil is on his tail.

When he turns around all that malice is gone, back is the man who had consoled you on the rooftop, who is ten times more handsome when he looks like he's just rolled out of bed.

"This was funnier than I thought it would be!" You say.

You don't know when your laughing turns into hysterical sobs, all you can feel is John's warmth when he hugs you tight, his hands caressing your back with soothing, gentle motions, the rumble of his voice as he repeats sweet nothings until you stop, still enveloped in his safe embrace.

You know you shouldn't, because this man has helped you in this strange way, but you don't want this hug to end, or to him to go back to his home. You want to stay locked in his arms for the whole weekend and it's not because you have been ready to move on from your past relationship.

"I ought to feed you a proper breakfast, it's the least I could do!"

He doesn't stop hugging you, yet it doesn't feel awkward, as it should, you two are two strangers, basically!

"You don't have to, love, it was my pleasure."

Price would have been lying if he were to say that he hadn't noticed you, back when you started at the base: this cute thing with a spine of steel who had slapped ridiculous stickers on the work laptop and who had, somehow, trained his scary lieutenant into finishing his paperwork in time, if not with a smile under his mask, at least with some energy. He had never made a move because he knew you were taken, he didn't want to be a willing wedge in your, seemingly, happy relationship. Knowing what a muppet your ex is, he would have followed his instinct and courted you away from that imbecile. Now that you're still in his arms he wonders if you'd let him take you out on a nice date to show you what a real man looks, and acts, like.

"No, no, please! Let me!"

You're still pantless when you start dishing out containers of baked food: biscuits, half of a Sachertorte and too many muffins that he cares to count.

"I'd spare you Lieutenant Riley's cookies, they're basically sugar and I need them for his next batch of reports."

John leans against the kitchen door frame, arms crossed against his naked chest.

"Don't tell me that's how you trained Simon into finishing his paperwork in time."

You turn around, a whole plate of waffles and pancakes in your hands.

"Sorry?" You don't look at him. "I didn't mean to."

You look so earnest and embarrassed that John can't help but laugh: no one will ever be able to waterboard this information out of him.

"Let me treat you to a nice breakfast out. It's the least I can do after you have been feeding me and my men for years."

Only now you seem to clock on the fact that you two are way too undressed than what is proper.

"John, you already did so much!" "Don't let my tone fool you. It's only a tactic to discover how you managed to bend Simon's stiff neck."

You both know he's lying or that this is not his real endgame, the only question here is: do you want to play along and see where all of this will lead you?

You set the plate on the overcrowded table and take a big breathe: why shouldn't you? You'd beat yourself up for the rest of your life if you'd let a nice specimen as captain John Price slip from your fingers!

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Middle Class Lady Who has the Gang Sneak in Her Window

"The gang falling for a woman of a higher class and a father that doesn't approve of them so they usually sneak through their window to be together" @livingdeadgirly​

Genre: Fluff - some angst if you squint (Fem Reader uses she/her pronouns) Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: Mentions of guns, outlaw type of stuff

AN: I'm so sorry these took me forever to write! if some of them seem a little out of character please ignore it and pretend they aren't :D ---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions

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Arthur Morgan:

Your father owned his own saloon which gave him an incredible insight into the type of men who frequented his establishment. He thought of this as a blessing once you started growing older and wishing to be courted, he could keep an ear out for anyone that he deemed unworthy for you.

Unsurprisingly, anyone who frequented the bar was not someone your father wanted anywhere near you. Especially when it came to an outlaw by the name of Arthur Morgan. The two of them had a long-standing feud (actually it was your father who hated Arthur and Arthur was too busy being infatuated with you to notice).

The first time Arthur was seen speaking to you in front of the saloon, your father came barreling through the doors to usher you inside. He instructed you to never speak to him again. Of course you didn’t listen.

Months go by and Arthur has made an extreme effort to get as close to you as he can without your father’s knowledge. The two of you will just so happen to go to the same general store at the same time every Friday by ‘accident’, you just so happen to run into him when you take your horse for a little trail ride to exercise, and every once in a while you both somehow end up behind the theater at on show nights by some strange chance of fate.

After a while, you’re so sick of having to keep your interactions short and sweet and secret in the public eye (lest anyone witness it and run off to tattle to your father). You write a quick letter to Arthur one day asking him to meet you at the side of your house at midnight.

When he gets there and you’re nowhere to be found he’s beyond confused; it’s not until he hears a sharp whistle and looks up to see you waving at him from your second story window that he understands your plan.

“The things I do for you, woman.” He grumbles with a smile and begins hoisting himself up the tree conveniently located right by the window.

You’ve already got the window open as he reaches the top and you begin helping him crawl inside. Now Arthur is a large, bulky man he isn’t exactly as nimble as he might have been once upon a time. You can barely contain your giggles as he lumbers into the room ungracefully and nearly face-plants into the rug on your floor.

“I ain’t had to do this since I was a boy,” He smiles down at you once he steadies himself as you grin up at him widely.

“You’re still young enough to climb through a lady’s window yet, Mr. Morgan.” You tease.

It’s the first time the two of you have ever truly been alone since you met and the tension in the air is palpable. Arthur looks between you and your carefully cleaned and decorated bedroom, then down at his dirty boots on your rug and worn denim pants. He was the complete opposite of you - he didn’t deserve to ruin your space with his grimy life and clothes.

“What you thinking about, Cowboy?” You place a hand on his cheek and turn his head to make him look back at you. He’d confess a few of his doubts, not trusting himself to tell you that he doesn’t deserve you flatout, and you’d shake your head and lead him over to your bed and have him sit down.

You’d kiss him and quiet his thoughts, allowing your actions to say more than words ever could and from that moment on he’d find himself climbing up a tree every other night.

Your father didn’t figure it out ever, even though Arthur and you were hardly ever quiet.

John Marston:

You were the most beautiful person that John had ever seen in his entire life. You were walking in the middle of town with some man nearly twice your age and John figured you were married to him - some lady victim to a man with money and a ring.

John fantasized about swooping you into his arms and saving you from a life of excruciating monotony. He’d tell the old man to kick the bucket, maybe rob him of whatever cash and valuables he had on him, and let you live your life free with him.

When he overheard you refer to the man as your father John felt absolutely giddy. He took his hat off and tried to smooth his hair down as he moved to approach you and introduce himself.

Your father watched the outlaw walk up to the two of you with a skeptical eye. He was hoping the cowboy would walk past you, but he stopped right before you and held out his hand to you. “John Marston, Miss….?” He prompted.

Your father shut it down immediately. He was so incredibly unamused that he stepped between you and John and shoved his arm down. He told John to basically get lost, but John ignored him and kept his eyes on you.

It was like love at first sight.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his and couldn’t hide the growing blush that heated your cheeks as he ever-so-slightly smiled at you. A small smile that disappeared as your father demanded his attention.

“Now son you get out of here before I get angry. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter, you got that?”

John wanted to laugh at his vague threat. Who did this guy think he was? John put both hands up to show he meant no harm and took a few steps back.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, sir,” He shrugged, “Was just being friendly.”

Your father scoffed saying he didn’t want any of John’s kindness and neither would you. You caught John’s eye while your father was speaking and mouthed ‘sorry’ with a sweet smile.

John was smitten immediately. He may seem like a big tough outlaw, but the guy is secretly a huge soft romantic. He was already envisioning your wedding and the type of house you two would build together in the middle of the prairie where no one would bother you and you could leave your respective lives.

He may have been getting ahead of himself.

Your father dragged you away and into the general store, John went off to finish a few more errands. He didn’t think he’d actually ever see you again until the moment he went back to his horse to ride back to camp.

He felt a quick tap on his shoulder and there you were looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

From that moment on the two of you had to meet in secret - away from the watchful eye of your father. John took to sneaking in your bedroom anytime he got the inclination to see you (which was a daily occurrence tbh).

He’d take a stroll around the house to make sure your father’s room lights were off and see if yours were on and you were still awake. Due to his frequent visits, you were always up late waiting for him to call on you.

It was all fun and games until he’s waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to climb back out of your window before your father woke up to find him lounging in your bed. That would be a messy scene.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch thought he was too old to have to worry about meeting parents and getting the approval to see the lady he fancied. He was an old dog; he liked younger women of course but never the type who were of a higher social standing than him and needed that.

Then he met you.

You swooped into his life with your pretty dresses and sweet words and you didn’t want him at all at first. It made him want you even more.

It’s no secret that rich men are corrupt and willing to meet with anyone to make a quick buck. Your father met with Dutch to provide some intel about a train full of valuables and treasures that were interesting to both parties involved. Your dad wanted a cut of what was on that train provided the Van Der Linde gang robbed it.

Your father wasn’t a good man. He enjoyed money a little too much, and saw you as property more than his daughter. He was overprotective of you - to the point that he refused to ever let you out of his sight for even a second.

You went to every meeting between the two men and at first didn’t give a damn about Dutch. You thought he was handsome, but not the type of man you’d ever be interested in. Not until your father warned you to stay away from men like that.

He even went so far as to comment that he didn’t like the way Dutch looked at you. It fueled something inside of you. The idea of rebelling in such a way. Dutch was attractive, he had money, an exciting life, and most of all it would piss your father off if you courted the gang leader.

The next time there was a meeting between the three of you, you bat your eyelashes and laughed at Dutch’s jokes a little too hard.

Dutch bid you farewell by kissing the knuckles on your hand, and you loved the way your father basically had smoke coming out his ears at the action.

Your father didn’t bring you with him the next time he went to a meeting with Dutch. He locked you in your room, and only unlocked the door to check on you before bed that night.

You were pouting and writing a long sob-story in your diary when you heard a soft tap on the glass of your window.

You pulled back your blinds to see Dutch crouching in the dirt by your window with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can I come in, Darlin’?” He cooed with a sweet voice. You opened your window immediately and he ducked through the frame.

“You didn’t come with your father today, he said you didn’t want to attend the meetings anymore.”

You explain that you’ve basically been kept a prisoner in your room all day since your dad was convinced Dutch was trying to steal you away from him. You grumble out a few curse words after you explain and roll your eyes.

“What if I am tryin’ to steal you away?” Dutch whispered, his eyes dark and sparkling in the lamp light. You didn’t realize how pretty he was.

You bite your lip and smile, trying to keep on a tough act at his words. It’s no use, though. He’s charming, it’s why he is who he is.

“Maybe I’d let you,” You reply in a sultry low tone.

That’s all Dutch needed to hear. He helped you pack a small bag of items to bring with you and he brought you back to the camp where the gang was staying.

On your bed, you left a note telling your father you were running off with a man. Shortly after that Dutch mailed out a post saying he didn’t want to do business with your father anymore. It was all settled.

He stole you away to join him at camp, and that’s where you stayed.

Javier Escuella:

You met Javier by chance one night when you were being harassed by a local lawman after a night out at the theater. Javier rushed to the alley when he heard your shouts ordering the man to stay away from you.

Javier saw red and let his instincts take over him. He grabbed the man by the collar of his very nice shirt and used it to throw him to the mud.

“The lady asked you nicely to leave her alone. Now, I won’t be so nice if I have to ask. So, tell me, do I have to be the one to request you leave her alone?”

The man scrambled in the mud, splattering it on his dress pants and coat, as he picked himself up and ran away.

Javier introduced himself and offered to walk you home. You were a little wary of him at first, what with the guns at his belt and the knife at his thigh, but he assured you that he was not a threat. He just didn’t want you risking getting harassed again on your journey to your house.

You took him up on his offer and as he dropped you off at your front door you gave him a quick, shy peck on the cheek and asked if he wouldn’t mind coming to visit again in the future.

Javier is a blushing bumbling mess but somehow finds the words to agree and see you again later on in the week.

From that point on, this man spoils you in every possible way. He brings you flowers, fine pelts, jewelry (don’t ask where he got it), and little poems he writes or likes just so that you have a little piece of his heart.

Does your father care about all of that? No. He just cares about Javier’s status as an outlaw, a killer. He’s heard the rumors about the Van Der Linde Gang and he refuses to allow one of the members anywhere near you.

Javier is willing to do anything to see you, though.

You started leaving your windows perched open during the warm summer nights, and a low whistle alerted you to a person sitting right outside the glass. Your curtains were fluttering slightly with the wind and so all you saw was the shadow of a figure causing your mind to think of the worst scenarios possible.

You drew a knife from your vanity and clasped it in your hand ready to call for your father, but you heard a familiar voice lowly call out.

“Mi amor?”

You let out a sigh of relief and pulled the curtains back fully to see Javier smiling at you with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. “I wanted to see you and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You asked him to wait outside while you barricaded your bedroom door with a stool, then opened the window wider for him to duck inside.

At first he didn’t really know what to do with himself, he planned to give you the flowers and have a quick kiss before needing to leave -  he did not expect you to usher him inside.

You took the flowers from his hands and placed them on your dresser next to the box of trinkets and gifts Javier has given you before.

You sit on your bed and make a spot for him to sit beside you. He isn’t really sure what the gentlemanly thing to do is in that situation, but just to be safe he sits on the floor by your feet. He’s gazing up at you as if you were the moon itself and doesn’t even try to hide the way his breathing quickens every time your eyes meet.

It becomes routine for him to visit you nearly every night and wait for you to barricade your door before allowing him in. Eventually he gets more comfortable and feels better about sitting next to you on your bed - though he knows it was not the proper thing to do.

He really wanted to court you the proper way, but with your father being so hesitant to know him outside of his status he had to be a little lenient on conventional courting methods.

Charles Smith:

Charles has been sneaking into your room for years.

You were childhood sweethearts, but your father had hated the relationship from the moment you expressed any sort of soft feelings for the boy.

When he first started sneaking in, it was just because your father didn’t want you to be friends. You and Charles were inseparable, so he’d sneak in when he could to read your books and play with your toys while your father was at work.

As you grew older, your feelings grew too.

You developed a strong crush on Charles and he was completely oblivious to it. At first, since you didn’t know how to express your feelings, you pushed him away and told him to stop visiting you.

Charles was crushed when you essentially told him to get lost. He couldn’t understand what caused your change of heart - he figured maybe your father had finally gotten to you and you realized you were too rich, too pretty to be his friend.

Charles stopped climbing through your bedroom windows and started only seeing you in public spaces or whenever you took your horse out for a ride.

Eventually, though, even those interactions dwindled and Charles stopped seeing you altogether.

It broke you when you didn’t speak with Charles anymore. You thought it better that way. He couldn’t find out your feelings for him - especially since you were certain he didn’t feel the same way.

Years go by, you stop seeing Charles even in fleeting moments. You heard he ran off and was living alone in the wilderness.

It was your fault, you thought. You pushed him away during his time of need and now there was no way of knowing what became of him. Whether he was alive or dead.

You grow older, your heart growing cold and calloused, and you never really recovered from the hurt you put yourself through.

One night, you’re a passenger on a train taking you deeper into the west of America when there was a loud commotion at one end of the passenger car you were in.

You put down your novel and see a group of masked men with weapons demanding valuables from every patron they pass by. They were slowly moving down the aisle, approaching where you were sitting at an alarmingly fast pace. You couldn’t think of a way out of the situation without giving away every last bit of money you had on you.

That is, until one of the masked men gets to you and instead of the harsh demands and pointed threats you expected to hear, you hear your name being whispered softly.

You look up, skin ablaze with fear and eyes watering. Through your tears you can see a familiar set of dark brown eyes peering down at you as if you were a ghost.

“Ch…Charles?” You squint. You questioned if it was just a mirage, a trick of your brain due to fear, but there was no doubting it. Those were Charles’ eyes.

He softly grabbed you by the arm and helped you out of your seat.

“Come with me,” He whispered as he pushed you through the aisle towards the exit. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

It was stupid, but you blindly agreed as he led you out of the train and onto the dusty earth.

Charles and you caught up as the rest of his posse finished robbing the passengers of the train. You learned that he had been taken in by the Van Der Linde gang and was making a living as an outlaw. After seeing what you did on the train, that part of his story checked out.

You caught up with him as well, you informed him of your father’s fate and how his will left everything to you. How you regretted pushing him away as a teenager and how you wished he could forgive you.

“I never even hated you for it,” He said softly, “There is nothing to forgive, it’s how the world is sometimes. Cruel.”

You tried to explain your feelings at the time, but the embarrassment of it never let you fully explain.

Charles offered to take you home, but you wanted nothing more than to continue catching up with him and learning about his new life, his new family. Charles took you back to camp, and you ended up staying there with him for a few weeks. (For a fee of course, as Dutch had so cleverly thought up)

Your feelings for Charles rose to the surface once again, and you weren’t sure when or if there would ever be a time to explain how madly in love with him you were.

Sean MacGuire:

The first time y’all met was when he was sneaking through your window late one night.

Dutch had given Sean a vague plan about robbing a local lawmaker’s house while the man was scheduled to be two towns over for some political business. Dutch figured it would be a quiet, simple mission to grab some extra loot and not worry about being caught.

Sean paced around your house a few times after midnight the day your father left, and when he didn’t see any lights on or movements he figured it was safe to go in.

He checked a few key points of entry, but the windows on the ground-floor were locked and he didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence of there being a break-in for when the lawmaker came back.

Sean noticed that a window on the second floor was open the tiniest sliver, he’d be able to use a dagger to wedge it open wide enough to slip his hand in and open it fully.

He climbed up some vines growing on the side of the wood paneling and pulled his dagger to wedge it open. Once he got himself inside, he turned towards the window to close it.

His entire body stiffened when he heard the metallic click of a pistol being cocked from behind him.

“Now I’ll only say this one time, Mister, you need to get outta here before I blow a hole in you and make a mess all over these clean floors.” The threat was serious, Sean knew that, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sweet sound of your voice as you told him you were going to shoot him if he didn’t leave.

He put his hands up, dropping the dagger he had, and turned to face you slowly. The house was dark. Shadows danced across your face and shielded your eyes making you look lethal with the gun pointed at his chest. Sean thought you were beautiful.

“I mean no harm, Miss. Just business ‘s all,” Sean gave you a toothy smile which only made you narrow your eyes.

You told him you were going to give him one chance to leave and he’d only stay if he had a death wish.

Sean wanted nothing more than to stay with you and use whatever methods he could to woo you, but he was familiar with the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice. He was scheduled to meet the gods above if he didn’t slip back out that window and into the night.

After he left, he was already planning the ways he could meet you again - under more favorable circumstances of course. He decided to visit you the next day with a peace offering and a smile.

Once dawn broke over the horizon, painting the world in a golden orange light, Sean was already up and out of camp heading to your large house on the hill.

He knocked on the door and you answered after a few minutes. Your hair was messy from sleep and your nightgown was covered by a long robe that was hastily thrown on to save your modesty.

“What the hell?” You grumbled and looked at Sean as if he had grown three heads. “Either you are the stupidest man on the planet for comin’ back here, or you truly do have a death wish. If it’s the latter give me a second to grab the gun.”

Sean was in love immediately.

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I never woulda thought ‘bout stealing from a man with such a pretty woman living under his roof.” He handed you a small box saying that it was a piece offering. Inside was a large silver coin and a note that said ‘thanks for not shooting me’.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, but pocketed the coin and note nonetheless. You invited him in, but warned him any funny business would not end favorably for him. He only shot you a coy smile and promised that he was only coming as a gentleman, not an outlaw.

The two of you grew as friends at first but once things seemed to grow more romantic, you had to start sneaking around and avoiding your father finding out about the relationship and how it started.

Sean was glad he got the practice sneaking in your window that first night, though, because it was common practice while the two of you had to keep your romantic relations a secret.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie was a shell of herself when you met her.

She was still mourning the loss of her husband and trying to become accustomed to her new life as a member of the Van Der Linde Gang when you stumbled into her one day.

She was just starting to get back on her feet and was at the tailors in town when you strolled in with your fancy clothes and styled hair.

She wasn’t intimidated per say, but she felt a little inadequate in comparison. What with her ragged hand-me-downs from Miss Grimshaw and her few coins that she saved to buy a new linen shirt - you were like royalty compared to her.

You approached her first at the tailors. You asked if she had been in town long as you didn’t recognize her, where she came from, where her husband was (assuming she was married). Sadie didn’t know how to answer all the questions you threw in her direction.

You broke down her walls, though. You bought the shirt that she wanted and even invited her to tea with you at your house to talk about what had been plaguing her the last few weeks.

She didn’t want it to help, but Sadie could physically feel the relief flood her chest as she stopped holding on to her emotions and let them flow freely. A friendship between the two of you grew quickly and rapidly.

Then, it grew to be a little more.

Sadie had been working on jobs with Arthur and gaining her confidence back. In doing so, she finally got the nerve to kiss you goodbye one night when she was getting ready to go back to camp.

She gazed at you nervously after she did it. She couldn’t figure out what your expression meant - whether she went too far, or if you even liked her back in that way.

Tears slipped from your eyes as you looked up at her and grabbed her cheeks, shoving your lips against hers. Her kiss was sweet and gentle, but yours was aggressive and needy. You didn’t realize she felt the same way about you, and knowing that she did created a swell in your heart that never went away.

After your first kiss, you had to keep your relationship on the downlow. Your father knew that the two of you were friends (he hardly liked even that), if he found out that y’all were girlfriends he would separate you for good.

Sadie came up with the plan to visit you during the day as a good honest lady of society, but at night she would climb up through your window to enjoy spending time with you as a partner instead.

Friend by day, girlfriend by night.

Sadie slipped through your window every other night, quieter than a shadow when she came in. Sometimes you’d turn around and she would just be getting in and it would make you squeak a little as it startled you.

She kissed you to keep you quiet when that happened, though (teehee)

Sadie would spend hours with you at night. You’d help her brush her hair when there were missions she was on that took days and she wasn’t able to care for her locks. You’d let her borrow your nightgowns if she ever wanted to stay and relax in your bed until dawn.

The two of you would hold each other and talk until the mourning doves sang their melancholy songs in the early hours of the morning.

<><><><>

[shares-a-vest]

Pineapple Breath & Onion Boy (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.2k | Rated: T for Flirtatious Banter/Suggestive Language | cw: Mild reference to Period-Typical Homophobia (if you squint - Eddie is just conscious about being affectionate with Steve in a public space), Food Mention, Inferred Smoking (Eddie is playing with a lighter)

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Pizza, Contemplating the Future, Side Clarkson, Pet Names, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Lightest Angst in the first half

Note: Working on my drabble yesterday had me rudely confronting myself with a Drafts. Buuut it gave me the motivation to come back to this one! Yay writing!

-🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕-

Eddie leans back on one of the faded red plastic chairs outside Gino’s Pizzeria and flicks his cigarette lighter.

He then turns it off, then back on again. Then off again… Anything to distract himself from the desperate grumbling in his belly – a feeling that has grown painful now that he can smell pepperoni wafting outside.

The chair gives a warning wobble beneath him, the back legs of the thing holding his weight as he looks up at Steve, who looks all cozy in his cream-coloured corded sweater and maroon jacket. Even if he is standing there with his arms folded and a frown knitting his brows as he looks on down Main Street.

Wayne and Scott had disappeared in that direction a few minutes ago, trekking down the block to fetch their Chinese takeout, while Eddie and Steve waited for their pizzas.

Pizzas plural. Because Eddie refuses to partake in Steve’s new and frankly, disgusting preference for pineapple.

It has been their little quartet’s Friday Night routine for a couple of months now and Eddie thinks he must end up looking the same each and every time: staring up at his boyfriend. Steve looks pretty as a picture as his eyes glisten under the streetlight and his breath puffs out in a feint cloud in the crisp night air.

He looks a dream, really.

Not that he ever looks anything less, thank you very much!

Eddie knows Steve is lost in some thought, the kind that pinches his brows together and downturns his mouth into a mindless pout rather than one that is truly grumpy.

At least Eddie thinks it’s all that before Steve sucks in a breath and sighs, deep and wistful as his beautiful hazel eyes grow bigger.

That look makes Eddie tip forward in his chair with a sharp snap. He shoves his lighter back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, frowning himself now as he tilts his head to the side, hoping to catch his boyfriend’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He is met with silence for a moment before Steve gives a soft and wistful sigh.

“You think when we’re old, we’ll be like Wayne and Scott?” Steve asks, still looking down the street.

“Jesus Christ, no!” Eddie scoffs, “I don’t plan on gettin’ old.”

Steve whips around and looks down at him with an even deeper frown and, yep – that’s a Worried Pout.

“What?” he near whimpers.

Eddie jumps up, groaning a little as his back pangs with deep regret over him tilting back on that stupid rickety chair. He waves a hand nonchalantly.

But Steve doesn’t budge. He looks hurt.

Eddie steps into his personal space and offers a small smile - one that he knows will showcase his dimples and make Steve melt like mozzarella cheese.

“Y’know what I mean,” he clarifies, “I do not intend to become some old fart, whose idea of a good time is going on a fishing trip while his boyfriend collects frogs.”

Steve somehow tightens the fold of his arms as he looks him over.

“Eddie, you like looking for frogs,” he retorts, his brows easing up a little, “Anyway, don’t you think they’re cute?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, here we go.”

“I mean it,” Steve defends, “Scott gets home from school and putters about for a while. Then, he finishes up some work exactly one hour before Wayne walks in the door. And then, they go about deciding on their takeout order – even though they always get the same thing! And when we get home, they’ll eat in front of the television, Wayne will clean up and then they watch the TV until Wayne starts to doze off and they go to bed.”

He finishes up with a sigh and looks back down Main Street again, appearing a little sheepish now as if he got a little too carried away with his longing there for a moment. It’s a look that tightens something in Eddie’s chest – one that makes him step even closer.

Or at least as close as he should get to his boyfriend out on the main thoroughfare of Hawkins.

He sucks in a breath and looks ahead too, wanting to kiss that look off Steve’s face.

But for the moment, he settles for a bump to the shoulder.

“We’re gonna be all that one day, aren’t we?” he says just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, upbeat but nonetheless quiet.

Eddie leans in, “Follow me, sugar.”

He tugs on Steve’s jacket sleeve and promptly spins on his heel to disappear around the corner of the building. The dumpsters behind the local pizza shop aren’t the most romantic of settings – but sue him for having a Rolodex of potential public makeout spots at the ready.

Eddie can feel Steve’s warm breath on his neck as they reach the far end of the building, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns to lean against the wall and palms around for any part of Steve to come along with him.

Steve crowds him against the building and as soon as he pushes them flush together, Eddie becomes all too aware of how whisps of his hair stick to the cool brick behind him. He gasps.

“Oh, no! What if I lose my hair!” he shrieks.

Steve grumbles, insulted, “What if I lose my hair?”

“Wha-cha – Stevie!” Eddie splutters, “My hair is just as important as yours!”

Steve smirks and reaches for his hairline, brushing back his bangs. He scrunches his nose.

“Hmm,” he hums with closer inspection, “It’s looking okay… for now.”

Eddie hisses at him.

“Get your damn dirty paws off-a me,” he grouses. Eddie flicks his bangs back into place with an exaggerated hmfph before he straightens up and snakes his arms around Steve’s middle, pulling him tighter still, “Steve, I promise as I stand here before you, behind the hallowed halls of Gino’s Pizzeria – ”

“ – Eddie, the owner’s name is Frank.”

“Fine! Frank – he of bountiful cheese and delicious tomato sauce. I do declare that I will still love you, even if I turn into a balding old grump with a permanent frown and bad knees.”

“And will you still love me if I become a middle school teacher, all chipper and cheery?”

“Meh, that wouldn’t be so bad,” Eddie shrugs.

“What if I grew a moustache?” Steve grins.

“That’s taking it too far!” Eddie practically shouts, squeezing the air out of his boyfriend in the process.

Steve gives a wheezing giggle as he runs his thumb and index finger over the soft stubble he has above his plush top lip. Eddie captures the mocking digits in his own hand and bites down, earning a wicked whine.

Steve shivers and gives a warning, “Edward…”

“Now,” Eddie begins, lowering the register of his voice, “Ravish me!”

Steve leans forward and presses the most chaste of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll ravish you later,” he pulls back and winks.

But Eddie recoils, nearly knocking his head back against the pizzeria’s brick wall.

“When you have pineapple breath?” he spits with a dramatic grimace.

“Says you, Onion Boy.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, “We’re both stinky.”

The rusty bell of the pizza shop’s front door sounds and Eddie is sure Wayne and Scott have already made it back, always more efficient in calling ahead with their own takeout order.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve smiles, lacing their fingers together.

[marvelslut16]

Field Day

Prompt number: 27 "Let me remind you"

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x teacher!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 1.1k+

Warnings: Swearing, a stupid hr policy based off a policy at one of my jobs, a horny woman at work, I think that's it.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been ages since I posted a fic, and this is 2 days late late. I really really want to participate again this year, but I have 2 jobs now and I have some other important things happening this month, so I won't have much time to write. But without further ado, here is day 1!

“Let me remind you that we aren’t allowed to date coworkers,” you sigh, as Peggy tells you that you should finally give into your work crush and go on a date with Bucky.

Bucky is the sweetest soul you have ever met, he’s a little shy but once he warms up to you he’s just a giant teddy bear who will do whatever he can to make your life easier. He’s been your work crush for about a year now, when he switched from second to fourth grade, the grade you teach. Now you have department meetings together, teach science labs together, and go on field trips together. His sweet personality and the forced proximity made it impossible not to develop a work crush on him.

“Technically we can date coworkers, it’s just frowned upon,” Peggy tries to play devil’s advocate, hoping that her friends will finally get over themselves and go on a date. 

“Oh yes, Bucky and I can date so long as we report it to HR the moment we go on a date, and they can still decide to fire one or both of us,” you roll your eyes and give your best friend a look before turning back to the playground to watch the kids. “Isn’t that why you waited to start dating Steve until he went to teach at the military academy.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Peggy giggles, just as Bucky lets his kids out his classroom door to join yours and Peggy’s for field day. 

“What are you two gals talking about,” Bucky saunters over to where you're standing near enough to the playground to see the kids, but far enough from them that they can’t hear what you're saying. 

“I was telling her that she should start packing her lunch instead of going out on Wednesday and Friday, much healthier. And obviously, she called me on the fact that Steve sends me lunch from restaurants most of the week,” Peggy smoothly lies. It’s a decent enough fib, but if you were Bucky you wouldn’t believe her. 

So where did you end up getting stuck for field day?” you ask Bucky, he was sick the day of sign ups no doubt being stuck with the worst job. 

“The dunk tank, damn Stevie leaving the school and leaving me with this stupid job,” Steve always volunteered to do the dunk tank, and now that he’s gone the entire staff quickly snapped up every other position. “What do you have this year?”

“The inflatable obstacle course,” you grin widely, you’d been petitioning the PTA to allocate funds to rent one for field day for the past three years now.

“I told you you could convince those parents to let you rent one, and the kids are going to love it!” you can’t help but blush at his praise. 

“Third times the charm,” you give him a small bashful smile.

“I’m in charge of dodgeball in the gym,” Peggy cuts in, reminding you that you aren’t alone and have an audience of almost a hundred kids as more classes spill out of their rooms.  

Soon enough the three of you go your separate ways and get field day started. Like every year, the day flies with minimal complaining from the kids, lots of laughing, and just a few scrapes and bruises. The kids all loved your addition to the course this year, all cheering in excitement when they get to your station. Before you know it your class is back at your station and field day is wrapping up, so you take the kids to the refreshments table to grap a dixie cup off gatorade and a cookie. 

“Oh dear god,” you murmur under your breath, catching Peggy’s attention as she walks up to the table with her class. 

Bucky’s also walking up to the refreshment table sopping wet, black t-shirt and basketball shorts clinging to his rock hard physique. Bucky is an attractive man, anyone who disagreed was either lying or blind, so this wasn’t a new revelation to you by any means. But knowing he has abs is one thing, but seeing his shirt clinging to them is a completely different one. Your heart starts to hammer harder and harder the closer he gets to you, damn Peggy had to get in your head about your crush earlier and you’re on the edge of  throwing caution to the wind, and yourself at him. 

“What were those rules again,” Peggy whispers, giggling in your ear. 

“Can’t remember,” your voice trails off just like your thoughts. It’s unreal and unfair that Bucky could be as nice and as drop dead gorgeous as he is. No man could ever live up to him, and you pity everyone that dares to try. 

“Only one person dunked me, and it was one of yours,” Bucky says gruffly, the twinkling in his eyes gives away his humor and pride in the student.

“One of mine?” you grin from ear to ear, your own pride showing at your student. One of your little fourth headers was able to dunk him, when the older kids couldn’t. “Who was it?”

“Me!” Brayden, your secret favorite student, hollers from behind you.

“Way to go Brayden!” you exclaim, the rest of your class cheering as you give him a high five. 

“It was hilarious,” Luke, one of Bucky’s students pipes up. “We were at the human wheelbarrow station next to the dunk tank and we saw everything! One minute he was on the seat, and the next he was coming up from the water coughing on it.” 

“Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?” you giggle, turning to look at him. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes on his, something the other female staff aren’t doing themselves. 

“I will be, once my ego heals,” your two classes laughing at his joke. 

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making my chili that you love so much,” you ask Bucky when the kids are out of hearing range. Peggy stares at you wide eyed, it’s like she can hear your inner monologue, in awe of your bravery and taking this chance. 

“I would love to,” Bucky has a soft smile on his face, like he’s sensing that everything is about to change for the better. Fuck HR, and fuck this job if it keeps you from being happy and with the man of your dreams. As long as you have Bucky everything will be okay, and you’ll both land on your feet eventually, even if it means finding a new district. 

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Thousand Yard Stare Chapter 6

Summary: Bucky Barnes has served his country well, and at a great personal cost.  After being rescued as a prisoner of war, he is struggling as he gets back into civilian life.  His newfound PTSD is severe.  His friends and family try to help, but he needs a lot more than they can give.  His mother signs him up for a Veteran recovery home, where he meets people struggling just like him, and the home director who has her own dark past to deal with.  He might just find love along the way as he searches for peace.

Warnings: mentions of physical assault, violence, being taken prisoner; sexual assault/r@pe; PTSD/anxiety/depression/panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares; suicide/minor character death; eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

8 months later

Bucky was not okay.  He went through the motions of civilian life.  He’d found a part time job doing office administration, which he hated.  Steve and Sam had tried helping him get back into regular life, inviting him to parties and get togethers with other friends, trying to get him going to clubs with them, meeting people, dating, but his heart wasn’t in it.  He was living in the guest house behind his parent’s home, since he couldn’t afford to get his own place, and as much as he loved his parents, it was hard living under their watchful eyes.  He had all the support and resources open to him, but he just could not stop thinking of her.

He hadn’t told anyone about his almost-relationship with Y/N, but Steve and Sam had been suspicious of something happening when he rejected their attempts to set him up on dates.  “Buck, did something…happen while you were there?” Steve bit the bullet one day as they sat in the backyard having a beer.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked.

Steve sighed.  “Don’t bullshit me, Buck.  I know something’s up.  I could see it when we visited Mama’s House for Thanksgiving,” he said, giving Bucky an unimpressed look.  Bucky tensed up, looking away from him. “You like her,” Steve said.  “And I think something happened with her while you were there, but circumstances as they are have made you feel like it’s not a possibility–”

“She made it an impossibility,” Bucky said angrily.  He rubbed his face with his hand.  “I really don’t wanna talk about this, Steve.”

“I know your nightmares have come back,” Steve accused.  Bucky shook his head.  “Your mom heard you the other night, and she called me.”

“God,” Bucky quickly stood.  He chugged the rest of his beer and went back inside the guest house.  

“Buck, come on,” Steve said, quickly following him.  “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

“I don’t want or need your help, Steve,” Bucky rounded on him.  “I’m back, aren’t I?  Isn’t that what you all wanted?  For me to come home and get back into regular life?”

“Not if it makes you this miserable,” Steve shook his head.  

Bucky stared at him.  “I’m not miserable.”

Steve scoffed.  “Sure.  If you’re not miserable then come out with me and Sam, try to actually have fun, hook up with somebody, something!  But you can’t keep living like your mind is still there.”  He clapped Bucky’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry whatever it was didn’t work out with her.  But you’ve got to work past it.”

Bucky felt so tired.  A part of him wanted to move on, but the thought of that also made him feel sick.  He patted Steve’s hand.  “Fine.  When were you guys planning on going out?”

Steve smiled.  “Friday night karaoke.”

Bucky sighed.  “Fuck me.”

***

TRIGGER WARNING

Bucky didn’t like this bar as much as the one near Mama’s House.  It was fine but didn’t have the hometown feel, and it was filled with undergrads that made him feel old and out of place.  Each person who got up and sang was terrible, with only a few that could hold a tune, and he knew there wouldn’t be any saving grace at the end of the night.  Sam got up and sang “Edge of Glory” by Lady Gaga, which was the only time Bucky laughed all night.  

There was also a lot more dancing at this bar.  Whether it was during a karaoke performance or the music that was played in between people, there were people dancing and grinding up on each other constantly.  He had to maneuver his way through the crowd so as not to get accidentally thrusted at after grabbing another beer from the bar.  There had been a few brave, flirty souls who had come up to him, Steve and Sam, but Bucky had rebuffed their advances.  It just didn’t feel right.

While the three of them went back up to the bar again for another refill Bucky was suddenly grabbed from behind and pulled into the crowd of people dancing.  He tried to turn and see who was touching him but being surrounded by a tight group of people made it nearly impossible.  Other hands began touching his arms, his chest, his shoulders.  Drunk voices were all around him.  “Hey handsome…”  “Come dance!”  He tried pushing and pulling their hands away, then stiffened when he felt someone with large hands on his waist thrust their hips, a bulge poking into his ass.  “Pretty boy…”  He blacked out.

***

The buzzing woke Y/N up.  She groaned as she turned over and blindly grabbed for her phone.  Glancing at the clock as the light stung her eyes it read 3:32 a.m.  “What the fuck?” she grumbled.  She sat up on her elbow and answered the call.  “Hello?”

“Y/N!” the voice yelled.  “Please, we can’t find him, you have to help us.  I don’t know–”

“Wait wait,” Y/N sat all the way up.  “Who is this?”

“It’s Winnie,” she cried.  “Bucky’s gone!”

“What?” Y/N was now fully awake.  “What do you mean?  What happened?”

Winnie was uncontrollably crying and she heard a muffled noise as someone else took the phone.  “Y/N?” they said.

“Who is this?” she asked, getting out of bed and starting to get dressed.

“Hey, it’s Steve.”  He sounded exhausted.  “I don’t know what happened.  We took him out tonight to a karaoke bar and he got caught up in the crowd and then there was all this shouting and pushing, then he ran,” he said.  “We tried following him out but he was long gone.  We’ve been searching for hours, trying to call him, but he won’t answer.  We don’t know what to do…Winnie just called thinking you might be of help.”

“Shit,” Y/N sighed as she put on her shoes.  “Send me your address.  It’ll take me a few hours but I’m coming.  I don’t know how much help I’ll be…”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said.

“Too bad, I’m coming,” she said as she ran down the stairs, grabbing her wallet and keys and booking it to the front door.  She opened it and as she turned to close and lock it she froze as she looked at the porch swing.  “Steve,” she whispered.  “He’s here.”

“What?!” Steve asked incredulously.  

“Listen,” she said quietly.  “I’ll take care of him and call you guys in the morning, okay?  We’ll figure it all out then.  Just know that he’s here, and overall he looks like he’s okay.”

Steve sighed heavily and she heard a noise like he was rubbing his face.  “Okay, thanks Y/N.”

“No problem. Bye,” she hung up.  She slowly approached the porch swing.  Bucky was laying on it, facing away from her, his long legs dangling over the side.  “Bucky?” she called out.  She reached a hand out and shook his arm gently.  Bucky inhaled shakily.  She leaned over him to find him staring wide-eyed at the porch swing slats.  “Buck,” she reached her hand down and caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers.  His eyes fluttered shut.  “Come back to me,” she whispered.

Bucky shivered and slowly turned his head to look at her.  When his eyes found her they were wet and his chin trembled.  “Y/N,” he whispered.

“Hey lover boy,” she smiled at him.  “Come on, let’s get you warmed up,” she said, pulling his arm.

Bucky stiffly allowed her to move him, sitting up on the porch swing.  She pulled him to stand and brought his arm around her shoulders.  Y/N led him through the house then to the back buildings.  She unlocked the comfy building, pulling him toward the cuddle room, then had him sit on the bed.  She started pulling his jacket and shoes off and looking him over.

“Are you in any pain?” she asked quietly, her hands checking his hands, arms, feet, ankles, neck, and anything else she could immediately see.

“No,” he mumbled.  She looked at him and saw the tell-tale thousand yard stare.  He was in shock.

“That’s good,” she said, watching him carefully.  She cupped his face in her hands, trying to get him to look at her.  “How did you get here?”

Bucky’s eyes were unfocused.  “Bus,” he murmured.

“For fuck’s sake,” Y/N grumbled.  She couldn’t find any injuries and so she pushed him up further onto the bed, sitting in front of him.  She grabbed his hands, taking one in each of her hands and massaging it.    “Do you wanna tell me what happened?” she asked.

Bucky’s eyes closed.  He seemed to be reveling in the touch on his hands.  “Guy grabbed me,” he muttered.  “Touched me…thrusting at me…hands everywhere…” he shivered again, his free hand tightening into a fist.  Y/N quickly grabbed it, forcing his fingers open to massage his palm.  “I…don’t remember.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N soothed him.  “He shouldn’t have done that without your consent.  That wasn’t right.  I’m sorry you felt unsafe.  It’s okay,” her hands moved up to his wrists, massaging them.  “You’re okay.  You’re safe here.”  She took her time as she moved up his arms to his shoulders, massaging along the way.  Her fingers softly scratched up his neck and his face.  His beard had grown in more, and his hair was even longer than when she last saw him.  Y/N leaned forward and scratched up into his hair, gently smoothing out any knots and massaging his scalp with her fingertips.  Bucky’s eyes flew open and focused on her, flicking across her face like he was finally recognizing her.  “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

Bucky’s face scrunched in pain, his eyes filling with tears and spilling over.  He leaned forward until his head rested on her shoulder, Y/N holding him and shushing him as he cried.  His hands reached out and pulled her toward him, Y/N moving herself to straddle his lap as he hugged her tight.  “I’ve got you,” she murmured into his ear, kissing the side of his head.  She pushed him so he would lay down next to her and held him, pulling a blanket over the both of them.  He nuzzled into her chest as he cried, his tight hold never letting up.  “I’ve got you.”

***

The sun streamed into the room and shone on Bucky’s face.  He groaned at the offending light.  He was so comfortable he didn’t want to move.  The steady beating under his ear was soothing, but the pillow seemed to be moving.  He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the light, before looking around.  He wasn’t in his room.  He was in…the cuddle room?  The pillow was a body, he was laying on Y/N’s breast.  He moved to sit up and looked up at her.  She was still asleep, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her mouth slightly open and her eyes moving behind her eyelids.  Her arm that cradled his head against her chest was hugging around him, her fingers still poised in his hair.  He smiled.  For the first time in months it was like his heart was settling down, his mind was quiet and his body was at ease.

Bucky settled back down, not wanting to wake her yet, and milk every moment of this peace that he could.  Unfortunately, his squirming made her groan as she stretched next to him, slowly waking up and rubbing her eyes with her free hand.  Y/N looked around momentarily before turning and looking at him.  She sleepily smiled at him.  “Good morning, Buck,” she whispered.

“Good morning,” he answered hoarsely.  He cleared his throat and moved so that he was hovering over her.  He reached a hand up and touched her face, his fingers tracing over her cheek, to her nose, and down her lips.  “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” Y/N asked, watching him.

“For this,” he said, looking away.  “Just showing up out of nowhere in the middle of the night, having a panic attack, making you take care of me–”

“No,” Y/N interrupted him.  “You have nothing to apologize for.”  She grabbed the hand near her face and kissed his knuckles.  “I told you, I’ve got you.  But you should probably call your parents.”

Bucky hummed and nodded.  “Probably should.”  He sat up and she joined him, reaching for her phone on the nightstand next to the bed and checking.  She had multiple texts from Winnie, which she quickly answered.  “Your mom’s freaking out,” she said quietly.  “Do you have your phone?”

Bucky checked his pockets and found it.  “Yeah,” he said, trying to turn it on.  “It’s dead.”

“Here,” she said, pulling up Winnie’s phone number.  He thanked her and hit the call button.

“Y/N?” his mother’s voice answered.

“Hey Ma,” Bucky said.

“Bucky!” she yelled, and there was a clattering on the other end and multiple voices calling out.  “What happened?  Oh honey, we were so worried–”

“You fucker!” Sam yelled.

“Sam,” Steve chastised him.  “Buck it’s okay–”

“Bucky,” his father’s voice cut through.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, watching Y/N hide her smile at all the concerned voices.  “I’m okay.  I just…had something happen that was triggering.  I honestly don’t remember much of last night.”

George sighed shakily.  “Okay.  I’m so sorry, my boy.  Just, come home, okay?  Do you need a ride?  We can come get you.”

“Dad, can I…” he paused, glancing at Y/N.  She was looking down at the bed.  “Can I call you guys back?  And we’ll figure it out?”

George paused.  “Sure, sure.  Just call back soon, please?”

“I will,” Bucky said reassuringly.  “Love you guys.  I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be!” yelled Steve.

Bucky chuckled and said goodbye once more before hanging up.  He handed Y/N her phone back.  “Thank you,” he said.  

“You’re welcome,” she said, giving him a small, polite smile.  She moved so that her back was against the wall to face him.  They stared at each other for a long moment.  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked finally.

“Yeah,” he answered, looking at his hands.  “I’ll be okay.  Just had a moment.  I’ll stay away from packed bars for a while until I can work through it.”

“Good idea,” she agreed.  They sat silently again.  “I can drive you home,” she offered.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he whispered.  Another moment of silence.  

“You…you gotta go home, Bucky,” Y/N said.

“I can’t,” Bucky shook his head.  “It doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed.  “I feel peace here.  With you.  My mind is finally quiet,” he glanced up at her.  She didn’t move.  “My heart feels calmer.  My anxiety is gone.  Please, don’t send me away,” he reached a hand out and gripped her ankle.  She didn’t move again, but her breathing was getting heavier as she watched him.  Her brow furrowed in the middle and she looked sadly at him.  “I’ll move up here,” he said, scooting forward.  “I can work here, for you, keeping up the property, doing office stuff, whatever it is you need from me,” he said more earnestly.  Y/N opened her mouth to protest.  “Yes, my family and friends are there,” he interrupted her, “but that doesn’t make it home.  You’re home,” he said, sitting in front of her, cupping her face in his hands.  Y/N closed her eyes, hesitantly nuzzling her face into his palm.  “My life is here.  You’re my life.  You, and this house, and this work, and Teddy,” he chuckled, and she snickered with him.  “All I want is this.  All I want is you,” he leaned forward and kissed her nose.  “Please, Y/N,” he whispered.  “I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want,” he rested his forehead against her forehead, his nose tracing along her cheek.  “I’ll be your lover boy, for as long as you’ll have me.”  

Y/N giggled.  “How can you say so many sweet things and sprinkle something dirty in there?”  

“See?  I’m fun to have around,” Bucky said.  

Y/N looked up at him, the desire in her face giving him hope.  “I want you,” she said.  “I’ve missed you…so much,” her voice wobbled with emotion.  “I just don’t want to take you from your family.”

“They’ll understand,” Bucky said, kissing her cheek.  “Dad will probably want to move up here anyways.”

Y/N huffed a laugh and shook her head.  “You would drop everything to stay here?  With me?”

Bucky nodded.  “I love you.  I would have done it 8 months ago if you’d let me.”

Y/N smiled softly.  “I thought I was doing the right thing.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  She nuzzled her nose against his.  “You’re so much more than inappropriate timings and stolen moments,” she said.  

Bucky sighed and pulled her into his lap, his hands on her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  “You love me?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, nodding.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek.  “Say it.”

Y/N smiled teasingly.  “Or what?”

Bucky looked at her in surprise.  “Hm, so you’re not always Mommy are you?”

Y/N blushed and shrugged.  “I said sometimes, didn’t I?”  

Bucky’s eyes narrowed.  “Brat,” he called her teasingly.  Y/N’s eyes widened.  Bucky leaned in again and kissed her other cheek, then her jaw, her chin, then the side of her mouth.  She tried to chase his lips but he moved away and a small whine escaped her throat.  “Say it,” he whispered against her skin.  Y/N minutely shook her head and he groaned.  He started kissing up to her forehead, over her eyelids, her nose, and back to her other cheek, littering kisses all over her face but just out of reach of her lips.  Y/N tried to guide his face back to her mouth but he grabbed her wrists and held them behind her.  She gasped as he kissed her neck.

“Bucky…” she whimpered.

“Say it,” he grunted, nipping at her collarbone.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Again,” he licked a long stripe up her jugular.

“I love you,” Y/N said a little louder.

“Again,” he growled in her ear.

“Fuck, I love you,” she moaned loudly, pulling at her wrists in his firm hold.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled before releasing her wrists.

“God,” Y/N sighed, cupping his face in her hands again.  She leaned in and started kissing all over his face.  Her hips started to grind down on him, making his breath stutter.  “Are you trying to drive me crazy?  We can’t do this in here,” she breathed.

“Then let me take you out,” Bucky said, trying to keep his wits about him.  He stopped her kissing, even though he really didn’t want to, and made her look at him.  “You can drive me back, I’ll tell my family and friends what’s going on, and then we’ll come back home, and I’ll take you out sometime.  Or,” his hands ran up her sides, his fingertips barely sliding over the sides of her breasts, “you can sing me another song next karaoke night, and I can show you just how much it affects me every time you sing?  Especially those sexy songs?”

Y/N hummed as she scratched the back of his neck gently.  “It all sounds perfect,” she sighed.  

Bucky smiled, leaning in and finally kissing her lips.  “Then let’s go.”

@wintrsoldrluvr @isitbiorisitlesbian @starfly-nicole @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger @idontknowhowtonormal

[lucy90712]

Buff- Gavi

For the last few months Pablo has been working really hard in the gym pretty much since the day he was allowed to do more he has been working on his strength. We have a gym set up at home and every morning Pablo gets up and works out before he has to go and do his specific training at the training centre. Some mornings I'll join him but I never work out properly as I just end up staring at him as his muscles flex while he lifts weights. For the last few weeks I haven't been working out with Pablo as I've been back at uni so I have classes in the morning and on the weekends I have essays to write. I know he likes when we workout together but I've just been too busy in the mornings but I promised him this weekend that I'd join him on a run. 

Today however is Friday and luckily it's my day with the least amount of classes I have two but I'm done by 2 which is better than 5 or 6pm. I have a break between my classes so I used that time to get some assignments done so I have a free weekend. Once I'd finished my work I decided to give myself a break and just scroll through social media but I nearly dropped my phone when I opened Instagram. The first thing on my feed was a video of Pablo from training and my god did he look good his arms were huge and he wasn't even flexing he was just walking. I know he's been working hard but I haven't noticed just how much it's been paying off until right now. Of course I loved the way he looked before but my god does he look amazing now I feel like if anyone saw me right now I'd have literal heart eyes after seeing that video. 

Trying to focus in my next class was near impossible all I could think about was Pablo and getting home to him so I could see his arms in person. Usually this is my favourite class and I spend the whole time writing notes but today when I left all I had written was the date and the topic of the lecture so I'll have to look back at what was actually said another day right now though I just want to get home. I never drive to uni as it's just a nightmare to park but the bus has never felt slower than it does right now and I wish I'd driven here. 

When I finally made it to the house after a long bus journey and a walk I saw that his car was already back in the driveway which is exactly a what I wanted to see. As soon as I opened the door I heard Pablo get up and make his way towards the door, to my delight he had a sleeveless shirt on so I could see his arms for myself. He came towards me looking for attention but my hands went straight to his arms to feel them. They even felt different I could feel the muscles tensing under my touch which was honestly fascinating as before Pablo wasn't the most muscular guy he was strong but never to this extent. 

"What are you doing?" He asked 

"Just enjoying your muscles I saw you in training today and your arms looked so good" I said 

"Thank you" he said getting a little shy 

"Seriously when did you get this muscular you look so hot I couldn't focus in class as I was thinking about how good my boyfriend looks" I said 

"I'm glad you like them" Pablo said getting even more shy as he doesn't know how to react to compliments 

He let me enjoy his arms for a bit longer before he took hold of my hands and pulled me into a hug. The next thing I knew he'd picked me up and carried me to the sofa so we could cuddle because as much as he doesn't know how to respond to compliments he is definitely very affectionate. We talked about our days he told me about training and how much he's enjoying finally being back with the other guys and I told him about my classes all while he played with my hair and I watched his arms while I was talking. 

We chilled for a while before Pablo suggested we go for a swim in the pool as it's really hot outside and because I was sweating just sitting down I agreed. He got ready much quicker than I did as I had to tie my swimsuit on and put my hair up so it doesn't get too wet as I just washed it. When I made it back downstairs Pablo was leaning on the edge of the pool waiting for me the way he was leaning really made his biceps pop. This man is definitely going to be the death of me he just looks so good and the way he was looking at me nearly made me melt. I joined him by sitting on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water, Pablo then moved to lean his arms on my legs while he just smiled up at me. His smile started out sweet but then he had that mischievous grin on his face which is never a good thing it only ever means he has a plan that he knows I'm going to disapprove of. 

His little plan quickly became clear when his arms went around my waist and pulled me into the pool. He was nice enough to not let me get my hair wet but I still got water in my eyes because I wasn't ready to go underwater. When I recovered and could see again Pablo had hold of me to keep me out the water so I wrapped my legs around him so he couldn't dunk me in the water again at least not without going underwater himself. This didn't last long though as Pablo started to tickle me which made me let go of my grip on him which allowed him to pick me up and throw me in the water over and over. I would've shouted at him for doing that but I actually had a lot of fun and every time I was out of the water I could hear him laughing which made getting my hair wet a lot better. Eventually he stopped and held me to his chest so I could get my breath back. 

"Are you just trying to show off how strong you are now" I joked 

"Well you liked my arms so much I thought I'd show you what I can do now" he said 

"In that case I'm very impressed maybe I'll have to join you in the gym just to watch you get even stronger" I said 

"You do that anyway" he fired back 

"Hey I work out too" I said 

"Be honest you do the bare minimum to look busy thinking I don't see you staring" he said 

"Ok you're right but can you blame me the view is always great" I said 

"My view is pretty great too when you do squats" he teased 

"You stare at me when I do squats?" I asked 

"Of course how can I not I also stare at your pretty face when you stretch on the floor I just like to take in what's mine" he said 

"Aren't you the cutest I like to look at your pretty face too" I said 

That's when he got all shy again so to deflect the attention off of him he pushed me against the side of the pool and kissed me. If complimenting him is going to get me cuddles and kisses like this I might just have to do it more often.  

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader

a/n: hello!! this is my first fic i've ever uploaded so i'm pretty nervous, and i don't even know if anyone will read this but i thought i would contribute to the farleigh fics (also i'm obsessed with him)! this will be on an ongoing serious (hopefully) and i have a pretty interesting plot planned so stay tuned! i hope you enjoy and please leave feedback!!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: slight language

part 2, part 3, part 4

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the eccentric summers at Saltburn. It was rich and sultry, it felt free, like all your problems disappeared, like the world didn’t exist outside of the dreamy castle and neatly trimmed hedges. It was just you.

Well, you wish it was just you. You loved Felix’s family, they were always so kind to you. At this point, you were almost part of the Catton family in a way. Every summer, you traveled to Saltburn after a long and exhausting year of school. It was like a reward, you got through the year, so now you get to kick back with the rich people. But the Cattons just had this way about them. They were so out of touch, sheltered in their little rich lives, never having to work for anything just because of a title.

You certainly weren’t rich. Felix convinced you to apply to Oxford University with him, although everyone knew he was going to get in automatically due to the immense amount of wealth his last name carried. You spent countless hours in secondary school making sure to get amazing grades, throwing away your social life and free time. You ended up top of your class, earning a scholarship to Oxford. 

It didn’t pay the whole tuition, but it helped, allowing you to have an average job to make some extra money before your first year. Now, it was your second year at Oxford, and you were comfortable.

For Felix, his time at Oxford was never exhausting or difficult. He preferred to spend his time partying, or at the pubs, drinking with all his friends. He never had to worry about his grades or schoolwork, because he didn’t have a scholarship to keep.

He always berated you for staying in every Friday and Saturday night, claiming that you always have your nose in some textbook. You didn’t like partying anyways, and you told him that.

“Please, just come out of your dorm for once. It’ll be fun, promise.” He used to beg, standing in your doorway. But you never ended up going, so finally he just stopped asking.

Besides, everytime you went out somewhere with Felix everyone assumed you two were dating, which earned you many cruel glances from almost every girl in the vicinity. You only saw Felix as a friend, a brother, in a way. He was always very empathetic despite his out of touch perspective on reality.

There was just one person you absolutely hated seeing every summer. Farleigh Start. Ever since you and Felix became friends, he hated your guts. You had no idea why. Maybe it was because you were the only other American around, since you grew up in the states before moving to England in your early teens. However, you couldn’t figure out why that would cause a rivalry between you two.

At Oxford, he always made fun of you for trying so hard. He just didn’t get it. He had everything given to him on a silver platter, a privilege of being close to the Catton family.

You tried to ignore him, but every single sarcastic or petty remark from his mouth made your blood boil with a rage you had never felt before. You couldn’t avoid him, because wherever Felix was, there was Farleigh. But at Saltburn, it was worse. You were forced to always be near him for two whole months and see that annoying little smirk on his face whenever he insulted you.

As you begin to organize your things in the guest room, you hear the shuffling of footsteps by your open door. You glance up from your suitcase, crouched on the floor, narrowing your eyes to see who is in the hallway. 

It’s Farleigh. Of course it is, you think. He stands at your doorway, leaning against the frame, his curly hair adding to his height. He has this stupid grin on his face, like he’s about to say something to insult you.

“I had a feeling you were here. Everything just felt… annoying.” He has a cigarette in hand, taking a drag from it after his sentence. “Can you not smoke in my room, idiot?” You stand up, pressing a hand to your forehead in annoyance.

“Calm down. It’s not gonna kill you,” He crosses his arms and chuckles at you. “Afraid of a little smoke?” He teases in a mocking voice. “No, I just hate the smell. Get out, you’re taking up space.” You wave your hand, gesturing for him to leave as you approach him, ready to slam the door in his face if needed.

“Oh, I think you’re the one taking up space.” He lets out another breath of smoke, causing you to cough as it practically falls right in your face.

“Alright. Funny. Now leave,” You glare up at him, your brows furrowed in frustration. He scoffs and finally turns on his heel, walking down the hallway to Felix’s room, you assume. “So boring,” He mutters under his breath, but you heard loud and clear.

You decide to ignore his last little comment, groaning and closing the door, returning to your organizing.

A little while later, a knock sounds on your door. You climb off of your large bed and swing the door open, greeted by Venetia.

You both squeal and she immediately wraps her arms around you, nearly knocking you off of your feet. You and Venetia have become very close, and she’s almost like an older sister to you. 

“Welcome back,” She grins, pulling away from the tight embrace. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” I reply, playing with a strand of her blonde hair. “Well, it’s been since last summer.” You two tried to stay in touch by texting or emailing every once in a while, but it was difficult with how busy you were.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She jumps on your bed and sits there like she’s waiting for you to tell her something. 

“What?” You ask, giggling at the way she’s looking expectantly at you. “Have you found a boyfriend yet?” She questions, smirking mischeviously. “No! No, I don’t have time for that.” You shake your head, hanging up a dress in your closet.

“Oh my God, you’re killing me! You say that every single time. Have you ever heard of, like, a hook-up? One night stand?” She exclaims. “That doesn’t take any time at all. No commitment. Just trying something out,” Venetia throws her hands up.

“Well, I don’t want to right now. I have no interest in it.” You return to your suitcase, grabbing a pair of shorts and folding them, desperately hoping to change the subject. 

You had experience in the things Venetia spoke about. Your first year at Oxford, you certainly lost control of a few things. You were just being young and dumb, confused and curious about what these college boys had to offer. It never brought you any real pleasure, just a distraction and a story to tell your girlfriends the next day at dinner.

You’d never had a real, long-lasting relationship either. It just didn’t interest you, especially since you were so focused on doing well in school and keeping your scholarship. Venetia stills insists on finding you a boyfriend or matching you up with a stranger.

“Look, I made that mistake my first year. Random dudes. I could’ve gotten an STD or some shit,” You throw the folded shorts into a drawer. “But it was fun, right?” She chews on one of her nails, watching you pace around the room.

“No. Not really. They didn’t do anything for me. Most of the time I was half asleep.” You shrug nonchalanty as Venetia laughs loudly. “Damn. Well, then you just found the wrong guys.”

“Then where do you find the right ones?” You ask, whipping around to face her. She shrugs. “I don’t know, they just kind of… flock to me. Like birds.” There’s a pause of silence before you both burst out in laughter. “Yeah, whatever.” You roll her eyes although you know there’s some truth to that statement. It was always effortless for her.

“I’m gonna find you someone. Trust me. You deserve the best of the best,” She grins and stands up, stepping out of your room. “I’ll see you at dinner!” She calls over her shoulder as she starts down the hall.

Dinner feels like nothing has changed. You all sit around the dining table having casual conversations about school and gossip while enjoying some traditional English food.

Unfortunately, you’ve been sat right across from Farleigh. You can barely glance up from your plate without catching one of his cold glares. You spaced out for a moment and as you zone back in, you realize the topic has shifted to relationships and dating.

Felix nudges your arm, pointing his fork at you. “What about you?” You glance over to him. “What?” You ask, unsure of what he’s questioning.

“Have you got a boyfriend yet?” He replies, tilting his head. You feel the rest of the table staring you down as you try to think of an answer. 

“Uhh, no. Not yet.” You lower your head down, hoping your hair will hide your reddening face.

“She’s incapable of that,” Farleigh interjects quickly. “I mean, it’s never been easy for her.” He chuckles slightly, amused at himself. You raise your gaze to him, trying not to show how his comments just affected you.

“Farleigh, don’t be rude.” Elspeth shoots him a glare and shakes her head. Felix pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, really. All the guys at Oxford are dicks anyway. Don’t deserve someone as kind as you,” You can tell he pities you and is trying to make you feel better.

You look back to Farleigh. “Farleigh, I don’t remember the last time you dated someone. When was it, like, two years ago?” You tilt your head tauntingly and wait for his reaction, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I didn’t know you paid so much attention to my love life,” He shoots back. He’s skilled at hiding his reactions and it kills you. 

“It’s just so bleak and desperate it’s hard not to notice it,” You pucker your lips to demonstrate fake sadness. 

“Alright, you two. Calm down,” Felix holds up his hands, shaking his head.

“I think that she’s just focused on school right now. As she should be, I mean, that’s why you guys are there. To get an education.” Venetia quickly comes to your rescue, seated on the other side of you.

“Right. Right, I agree.” Elspeth adds, nodding aggressively.

Your eyes meet Farleigh’s again, and this time its an even sharper glare with that familiar taunting and mocking vibe. You feel yourself burn up with rage. You try to hold eye contact with him but you end up glancing away due to the heat creeping across your face.

Later that night, you are walking through one of the many dark hallways of the mansion. You still get lost sometimes, despite the many summers you have spent here. You stop to glance out a window, marvelling at the vast courtyard and landscape beyond, pale moonlight shining down and casting large shadows.

You continue walking quietly, attempting to get back to your room, but for some reason you realize you are on the other side of the house. These hallways have never been easy to navigate, especially at night. You curse under your breath and shake your head, continuing in the same direction.

You pass a door that is slightly ajar, and out of curiosity, you pause and take a few steps back. You peer through the crack, and you swear your heart drops to your ass when you realize this is Farleigh’s room.

He’s sitting on his bed, reading a book. You’ve never seen him so peaceful. His face is relaxed, instead of the usual scowl or sneer. After a moment of you staring at him, Farleigh suddenly closes his book and reaches over to place it on his bedside table, causing him to glance in the direction of the door. He looks away, then looks back, doing a double take as he seems to notice your presence.

Fuck. You wince as you step back from the door, trying to make up your mind on whether you should try to escape or just deal with the repurcussions of your creepy behavior you didn’t even mean.

But your legs won’t seem to obey what your brain is telling them to do. You are just frozen, stuck in place as Farleigh opens the door all the way. 

There’s a moment of silence as he stares down at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, well, well. Look who showed up at my door,” He crosses his arms in amusement, a smug smile across his face. 

“I got lost. That’s all.” You run a hand through your hair while shaking your head. “And does getting lost also consist of watching me from outside my door?” He tilts his head. You shake your head quickly.

“No. That’s not what I was doing. Don’t flatter yourself,” You look back up at him and roll your eyes. 

“Right.” Farleigh nods, not looking very convinced. “Never took you for a stalker.” He adds with a taunting smirk.

You let out a sigh of exasperation, turning away and facing the long stretch of the hallway. “Okay, I’ll be going now.” You raise a hand to wave before starting down the hall. “Goodnight!” Farleigh calls after you in a singsong voice, making you clench your fists in anger.

You didn’t really remember when the hatred between you two started. You did remember, however, the evening you two met.

It was your first summer at the Saltburn estate, and you were still in secondary school. You were extremely nervous since you had to be on your best behavior around these rich people. What were you even supposed to say? Or do?

You and Felix arrived together that afternoon, and after a tour of the mansion from Felix and an hour or so to yourself, you were going downstairs for dinner.

You walked in to the dining room, standing close behind Felix, before taking a seat at the long table next to him.

A tall boy with dark, curly hair sat on the other side of you. You looked over and smiled at him. You assumed that this was Felix’s cousin, Farleigh, since Felix had shown you a few pictures of them together.

He looked expensive. His jewlery, his clothes, the overall aura surrounding him seemed rich. It made sense, since he was considered a member of the Catton family. Felix informed you that his father paid for Farleigh’s education and everything else as a way to say sorry for whatever family drama had happened. You couldn’t remember the long story.

“Farleigh! This is my new friend from school,” Felix said as he introduced you. You offered a small wave.

“So you must be the cousin I’ve heard so much about,” You said. Farleigh glanced at Felix with a confused expression. 

“She’s American?” He asked. Felix nodded and nudged you to continue talking. “Yeah, I grew up in the states. I moved here when I was thirteen,” You explained. Farleigh just stared at you, expressionless.

“Cool,” He said nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care about anything you just said. “So, are you two dating?” He asked, gesturing to you and Felix.

“Oh- No, no. Just friends,” You chuckled and Felix did the same after sharing a quick glance with you. You really were just good friends, you got along well, but no one believed it.

“Right.” Farleigh scoffed and rolled his eyes. Felix leaned in slightly and muttered, “Ignore him.” You couldn’t help but turn back to Farleigh.

“So, how did school go for you this year?” You asked with a smile. “Alright, I guess.” You could tell he was annoyed by your questions as he sighed and looked around. 

“Okay, be a dick, then.” You muttered, giving up on trying to make conversation with him. At this, he sat straighter and turned to you. “And what are you, some scholarship kid? How did you get into a school like Westminster?” He furrowed his brows and his tone became harsh.

“Oh, by being smart and passing the entrance exam. Not everything is achieved with just money,” You replied back, maintaining your composure effortlessly.

“And you would know that,” He responded in a lowered voice, but you heard loud and clear.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the rest of the family sat down at the table, meaning dinner was about to commence. All you could do was shoot knives at him with your eyes and hope he would notice. This was going to be a long summer. 

The next day you sit with Venetia on the grass by the lake. She convinced you to come out with her to tan, and you figured it might be good for you considering how pale your skin is from staying indoors all the time. You hardly ever got any sun besides walking around on campus, but right now you were enjoying the warmth.

You lean back, using your forearms for support against the grass. You still feel a bit self conscious since you can’t remember the last time you wore a bikini this risqué. 

“Why don’t you wear stuff like this more often?” Venetia asks, turning her head to face you. “You look like a model, seriously.” She grins and takes a sip of her drink.

You shrug. You glance out at the lake and admire the way the sun reflects off the surface, all the little ripples and overgrowth of leaves near the side. 

“There they are. Hey, you two!” You perk up at Felix’s voice. You sit up a bit to look over your shoulder, but your excitement is soon diminished when you notice Farleigh walking next to him. You quickly turn your attention back to the lake.

You feel someone’s presence behind you. You throw your head back, looking up to see Farleigh peering down at you.

“You actually got her to go outside for once? Shocking,” He chuckles. You follow him with your eyes as he walks closer to the edge of the lake with Felix. “Leave her alone, Farleigh.” Venetia replies in an agitated tone.

A few moments later, Felix is taking off his shirt and tossing it to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair, then promptly jumps into the lake. Farleigh follows suit, and you know you shouldn’t be watching. But just like last night, you can’t take your eyes off of him.

Your eyes trail down his back, and you notice his muscles flexing as he takes his shirt off. You subconsciously bite your lip, then remember it’s fucking Farleigh. You mentally curse at yourself before peeling your gaze away, trying to focus on anything but him.

For some reason, you can’t shake the image of a shirtless Farleigh from your mind. You wished he had turned around so you could see the front of him, or even– No. Stop! 

You decide to go inside before your thoughts get the best of you. You stand up abruptly, causing Venetia to look up at you.

“Where are you off to?” She asks, lowering her sunglasses. “Uhh… I’m just really hot. I’ll see you later,” As you start back, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to see if Farleigh is watching you go.

You catch his gaze, and despite the heat, you shiver as his eyes trail up and down your exposed body. You can’t explain why your heart starts racing or why you want him to keep watching you. You hate him. You hate him, but you’re so curious about what it would feel like to have his hands on your waist or in your hair. You hate him so much, but you wonder how it would feel to be underneath him, completely under his control.

But you hate him, right?

[huuuuughes]

Mine. - Jeremy Swayman

Summary: Jeremy comes over to beg for your forgiveness, and things quickly take a turn... but not for the worst.

Word count: 3.3k (its short ik im sorry)

WARNINGS: Daddy kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, bad writing??? idk this is porn OKAY READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. pls dont read if you're under 18 thank u!!

Note: i wrote this awhile ago for goalie week and then a bunch of stuff happened and i kept forgetting to post it bc i started my first full time job a month ago and its kicking my BUTT. anyways thanks for reading :)

You could hear your phone going off from across the room. It was Friday night and the end of a very long work week. Your boss was driving you up the wall and your personal life didn’t seem to be going much better. Your friends were good, you just didn’t get to see them as often as you wanted due to just being adults and everyone having their own full time jobs. 

The one person who was supposed to make your life easier, better even, was the one currently blowing up your phone. You knew exactly who it was, but he deserved to sit there and stew for a while. But as you looked around your apartment while trying to decide what show to numb your mind with, you noticed things of his strewn everywhere. You didn’t live together, not yet anyway, but based on the amount of things you had at each others’ places, you may as well have. 

Your work involved working with many different clients, and making their dreams come true. You were a travel agent, and your boss didn't exactly adhere to the typical 9-5 schedule like a normal job. If you were awake, she expected you to be able to take care of the problem. 

You had already decided long ago that men didn’t always think with their brains. Jeremy was jealous, but of what you had no idea. Did you have a lot of clients who were men who wanted to surprise the lady in their lives? Yes. Did those scumbags also try and make a move on you sometimes? Also yes. But you were a professional, and always conducted yourself as such. As much as you wanted to, it wasn’t your job to fix someone else’s insecurities. You could tell Jeremy that he didn’t need to be jealous until you were blue in the face, but you didn’t know when he was going to get it. You weren’t broken up, but you’d told him you needed a minute for him to calm down. It had been a few days at that point, and you couldn’t deny you were also getting antsy. He may be a stupid guy sometimes, but he was yours.

After what had to be the millionth time of your phone going off with a DING of a text, you made yourself get up off the couch. The last message you had read:

Sway❤️: I know I’m stupid. I need you to know I’m sorry. Can I see you, please? 

After the stressful week you’d had, you wanted nothing more than to feel his familiar warmth around you. The moment he was near you it was like the noise around you calmed down to its lowest level. 

Y/N: I’m at home, you know where to find me. 

Sway❤️: I’m on my way, be there in 20. I love you. 

The next twenty minutes were going to kill you. Your apartment was already cleaned, because you liked to clean when you got anxious as mess only made you more anxious. Your doorman would recognize Jeremy and send him up when he arrived, so you didn’t need to even get up to let him in. He had his key, he knew exactly where to find you. 

After an eternity, at least what felt like one, you heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock. He quietly took off his shoes by the door, and locked it behind him. 

“Babe?” He called out, already walking toward the living room where you sat. 

“I’m in here!” You called back. Relief washed over you when you saw him, but you didn’t get up and go to him. He had to earn you back the way you deserved. 

“Where should I start?” He asked, sitting down in a chair only a few feet away from you. 

“How about how you shouldn’t act jealous of my stupid clients? Or any man that I’m ever with that isn’t you? Do you really think I’m that crappy of a person that I would EVER cheat on you?”

“I know I shouldn’t, I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that because you’re the best person I’ve ever known, but-“

“BUT WHAT JEREMY?” You screamed, and you know it came out louder and meaner than you wanted it to. He recoiled a little bit but didn’t lose his energy. 

“I’m stupid. I’m a stupid guy, who knows you are way out of my league. It sounds like a dumb excuse, but I’m so scared of losing you. I want you, I want to love you, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. But you’ve seen the league, you’ve seen what this life can do to relationships and what it turns people into. I don’t want anything bad to happen to us. I know this isn’t the life you signed on for. I think about you being at home alone and I hate it.” He looked defeated and like he meant every word he’d said. 

“You can’t lose something you already have.” You wanted to close the space between you so badly. 

“You still want to be with me?” You got up and walked to the kitchen as he asked, putting away the wine you’d gotten out so it wouldn’t spoil. He followed closely, less than a few steps away. One giant step and he’d be able to close that space. 

“I wouldn’t have told you to come if I didn’t. You just needed to listen, and you weren’t hearing me. You don’t have to be jealous of anyone, that isn’t who I am.”

“I hear you loud and clear now. And I’m not jealous, you’re just mine.” The tone in his voice shifted to another one you recognized. 

“I’m yours huh?” You said it like you were challenging him because it sounded like he thought he already won. He should be fighting for you and showing you what that means. 

“Do you need a reminder?” He closed the space, so his forehead rested against yours. You could feel his hot breath on your face, breathing in time with you. Without warning, you pressed your lips against his with a new hunger behind you. You’d missed this heat between you, the raw need to have each other right in that moment. 

His hands explored your body, finding their way to your ass and lifting you up onto the counter. It was cold against your legs, the shorts you had on weren’t very long and you felt every inch of cold countertop but you didn’t care. His lips left yours with a moan and began making their way down your neck. You could feel how wet you were already getting, responding to his touch so quickly. You reached for the hem of his shirt and motioned for him to take it off. He complied in earnest, his mouth immediately returning to you.

Lifting your shirt up and over your head, your breasts became exposed for him to devour. He licked around your nipple, biting it and chasing you to arch off the counter while letting out a scream. Your nails were digging into every spot on him that he could reach. Momentarily he kissed your mouth again, bringing his still covered cock against your center. You could feel it hard against you, the friction only giving you the slightest relief. 

“Please daddy, please I need-“ You tried not to beg but the torture was killing you. 

“Tell me you’re mine and I’ll give you exactly what you want. Tell daddy who you belong to princess.” He whispered in your ear, continuing to kiss around your neck in the spot he knew you liked. 

“YOURS. I’M YOURS!” You needed relief or you were going to go insane. 

“Now was that so hard baby?” He asked. You didn’t even have the time or energy to reply as he pulled off your shorts in one big motion. 

“No underwear? Even better.” You attempted to push his head toward your swollen clit, but he wouldn’t go faster than he wanted to. He kissed and bit your thighs, leaving marks where he knew no one could see. You’d have those marks there for weeks. Each kiss he got closer until you finally felt his tongue brush against your clit. You shivered as he began to devour you, your thighs clenching around his head not wanting him to escape.

He pulled back but only for a moment, instructing you to lick the fingers he was putting in front of your face. You did as he asked, and he resumed going after your pussy. In a new move, he inserted his fingers into you as he continued eating. His tongue was licking in time with his fingers as they pumped in and out of you. He was hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know was there.

“Holy shit don’t stop, don’t stop PLEASE.” You were writhing on top of the counter as he struggled to hold you in place. He knew you were so close to your high, edging you just along that fine line. You’re burning up and he knows it. His other hand reaches up and pinches your nipple before grabbing onto your breasts like they were his lifeline. 

You cursed him silently for having hair you couldn’t grab onto, but you pressed his head as if it could go further into you. His tongue quickened its pace, matching his fingers. You could feel your orgasm building and it was right there, all you needed to do was let go. 

“Let go baby girl, cum on my face for me..” He whispered against your clit,  and what came out of yours was a series of expletives that you didn’t care to understand. He could taste everything you were giving him, not stopping as you started to come down. Every nerve ending was on overdrive and he held you down against the counter. The wave of your orgasm rolled over you, your heart pounding in your chest. He didn’t let a single drop of you miss his mouth, and you saw his smile looking up at you as you tried to catch your breath. 

He stood up without breaking eye contact, and undid his own pants. He made sure all remaining clothes of yours were off, nibbling on your ears and down your neck as he did so. In a move of complete trust, he picked you up off of the counter and carried you down to where he knew your room was. His lips found yours again and suddenly your lungs were struggling for air but you didn’t care. Your arms were hooked around his neck as he walked, kissing him like your life depended on it. 

Setting you down on the bed, he laid you down on your back, and stood back to marvel at the sight of you. 

“You look… “ his brain was struggling to find the right word, “fucking stunning.” 

“And you have too many clothes on… sir.” You put yourself up on your elbows, looking down at his boxers that for some reason, had remained on. You didn’t need to let him finish what he was going to say, you needed him to do something more than speak. 

“Sir?” He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to you. 

“Did you like that?”  You knew he did but it was your way of teasing. His mouth was on yours before you could process his next movements, placing one hand to your side to balance himself and the other knotted in your hair, pulling your head back so you were looking up at him when he pulled apart. You didn’t even realize that his boxers were already off, as you felt his cock brush against your leg and pussy. 

His hand left your hair and explored your leg, getting closer to its destination. His face was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face and his fingers glided over your folds, but so lightly it sent a shiver up your spine. You could hardly catch your breath but you were dying for him to touch you, to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You wanted him to hear you. His hand remained on your pussy, his fingers becoming soaked.

“So fucking wet for me baby.. did you miss me?” He quickened his fingers and began pumping them inside you. The feeling of his fingers wasn’t enough, you needed more and a whine-like moan escaped you. You whispered a response to him, and it spurred him on. 

“Please Jeremy please, please I need you inside me..” 

“That’s not my fucking name, not in here. In here I own you, isn't that right princess? Do you want me to be gentle?” You nod no, but that isn’t enough for him.

“Use your words princess.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“Don’t be gentle!” You tried pushing his head towards your core again, but he remained looking at you with his fingers teasing you. He added another, stretching you from the inside. You gasped and scratched your nails up his back. 

You gasp again, as you feel him part you with two fingers and put his tongue against you again. He wasn’t done tasting you yet.

“Please baby, I need your cock. Please!” Your mouth couldn’t move fast enough and you didn’t even care that he had reduced you to a begging mess beneath him. Your hips wanted to grind, needing more friction. You could feel your release building again as he sucks on your clit. It was right there, you could feel it as you clawed at your sheets trying to grab onto something but there was nothing. 

Your legs spasmed around his head as your release flooded over you and he ate you once again. 

“So fucking wet for me, you’re so stunning baby girl.” He kissed his way up your body and aligned himself with your entrance. He isn’t gentle as he slams into you as he kisses your mouth like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. 

You’re left begging for air as his head drops down, ducking your nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh god, oh fuck..” you cry out as he wasn’t holding back. He slammed into you over and over, bringing his hand up to find your clit. As he fucked you he was playing with your clit again, causing your wetness to pool onto the bed. Every single nerve you had was on fire, and only he could put it out. 

“Tell me you need it, tell me how bad you want you want my cum.” The hand not on your clit slowly moves up your body to the bottom of your throat and locking his hand around it. Not putting too much pressure, but enough to lightly choke you. Both of your hands gripped his arm as  you felt his cock filling you and his thighs slapping against yours. His speed was increasing and so was the hunger in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck, fuck daddy please I need your cum I need you so bad..!” 

“You are mine, your orgasms are mine, everything about you is mine.” Without warning he withdrew from you, earning a desperate moan. Quickly he flipped you over into your stomach, pulling your hips back so you were on your hands and knees facing away from him with your ass in the air waving him in like an invitation. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He whispers into your ear from behind you. He places kisses on the spot in your neck he knows drives you crazy, running his cock along your folds at the same time. He pushes into you again and holds back nothing. Jeremy grips both of your hips with his hands and brings your hips back to meet each one of his thrusts. The sound of his thighs hitting your ass echoes throughout the room, reaching spots inside you that you didn’t know he could. 

You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, you collapsed into the bed as he fucked into you. 

“So fucking tight princess, this pussy was made for me.” His nails scratch down your back eliciting a loud string of moans. His thrusts become more erratic and he brings his hand up, then down to smack your ass as hard as he could. The scream you made encouraged him more, and you could feel a third orgasm building.

“Fuck daddy, please I’m right there I need to cum daddy please..” You didn’t know how he had gotten that many out of you, but you could already tell he was determined for more. 

“That’s it baby, cum for me, cum all over my cock..” He brought his hand around as he leaned into you to tease your clit some more. You were right there, you pushed back to meet his thrusts to get yourself over the hill and the relief washed over you. You moaned out his name, begging for him to fuck you harder and faster. 

He loved seeing his length go in and out of you, taking all of him so well. Spreading your legs to give him a better angle, his cock continued hitting that spot inside you. He slaps your ass again, and again. You cry out, knowing his release was close behind. His hands wrap in your hair and pull you back, making you arch towards him. 

“Fuck yes baby, you like it when I fuck you like this? You ready for my cum?” He chases his release just as badly as you want it from him, feeling him trying to reach his high. You nodded in response to him, not being able to form any more words. The only sounds coming from you were moans of encouragement, it felt like you could be on cloud nine. 

“FUCK!” He screamed as he pulled almost all the way out, slamming back in and releasing his load into you. Jeremy almost collapsed onto you, but he brought you into his arms as he pulled out of you as his cum slowly leaked back out. You knew he thought it was the hottest thing ever. Both trying to catch your breath and come back down to earth, he pulled you in once you laid down so that you were on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat going a million miles a minute inside his chest, but it brought you a sense of calm. Your person was back where he belonged, he had finally heard you. 

“I love you.” He finally spoke but he still sounded out of breath.

“I love you too.”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you, I really love you. THIS is what I want. This body, your perfect fucking curves. Every minute of every hour of every day, I want you. Not just your body, I want all of you. I’m sorry I was so stupid. I can’t promise you that I won’t make stupid choices sometimes, but I can promise to be better for you every day.”

“Jer-“ You attempted to stop him, you knew he was it too. 

“Please let me finish. I want to make you feel good, I want to be the person you want to come home to every day, I want to be the person who pushes you to be the best version of yourself and make you feel like the queen of the world. You’re it for me, there is no one else. I’ve spent my whole life doubting myself and chasing this dream I couldn’t even describe. But I can see it so clearly now, and I know that dream is you. And I want to be able to have forever with you, if you’ll have me.” You took a moment to absorb his words. 

“You have to make me a promise okay?” His eyes gleamed at you, like you were holding up the moon just for him. 

“Anything, you name it.”

“Promise me forever. There is no past anymore, there is only us and the future we make together. I want us to help each other be better. Okay?”

“Okay. How about we start forever now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[detectivestucks]

Friday Night Fights

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Work is getting stressful and during your weekly hang with Kakashi he finally unleashes all of that stress on your body.

Warnings: NSFW, Hard Dom Kakashi, Degrading, BDSM, Body Piercings, Squirting, Oral, Unprotected Penetration

Word Count: 5.7k

Anon Ask

Running the metal ball along the roof of your mouth, you play with your tongue piercing while you think. You’re reading over the files your team gave to you for revision. It’s near the end of the fiscal year and you are desperately trying to concentrate. Now that you were a team lead, you had more responsibility than you wanted. You really only took the promotion for the pay. Looking over at the stacks of paper in each corner of your desk, you remember how fun it was last year when you were a normal agent. Responsible for nothing and just having fun working with your two friends.

Three years ago you started at your current job. During your training class you made fast friends with Rin and Kakashi. The three of you spent all of your breaks and meals together. After the second day, you exchanged numbers and made a group chat specifically for your inside jokes about management. Then by the end of your first week your trio started a weekly ritual of hanging out every Friday for what you dubbed ‘Friday Night Fights.’

Each week you rotated who’s house you went too. The host being responsible for the evening’s food. The other two, responsible for the entertainment. Usually it was a movie or some kind of game. One of your favorite nights was when the three of you played twister. Rin had to reach her right foot to red and ended up sweeping your leg causing you to fall on top of her and accidentally hitting Kakashi’s face on your descent. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more angry than when he thought his handsome face might’ve been blemished by your loss.

“Relax pretty boy. Women like scars”

Eventually though, life caught up with you. Kakashi switched departments and you got a promotion within your current one. Rin found a job in her field and you saw her less. Now she only comes to Friday Night Fights once a month, if that. Most of the time it was just you and Kakashi. The games became less frequent and Netflix began to take its place. The vibe shifted from wholesome fun to a flirty standoff between the two of you. Unsure if you want to cross the line from friends to more, even though you were definitely slipping down that slope already.

The last few weeks Friday Night Fights was essential for both you and Kakashi cause work was such a pain. The end of the fiscal year was upon you and there was a lot of pressure to close every project your team had been working on. The final profit report was due and your budget for the next year had to be submitted and reviewed.

Kakashi’s department was just as bad. It didn’t help that he was always going toe to toe with his boss cause she never did the projects correctly and always relied on him to fix it for her. She refused to listen to his advice ahead of time and only seemed to need his opinion a week before anything was due. The helplessness drove him mad.

“She literally dropped the same stack of reports on my desk that I told her last week needed to be itemized! Now I have to sort through two hundred accounts and pull up the breakdown of the services rendered by next Thursday!”

“Why don’t you come back to my department?”

“Cause I don’t wanna lose the pay. It’s not like they’ll give me a team lead role after a year of being in another department.”

“True. Maybe you should just take Val’s job.”

“Seriously. She makes me wanna choke someone out. How did someone so irresponsible become a senior manager anyways? It pisses me off.”

“Nepotism probably. Or maybe she slept her way to the top.”

“Har har. Wish I could sleep my way to the top.”

“Have you seen yourself? You definitely could.”

Kakashi shoots you a look. “Val’s manager is a guy.”

“And you could turn ‘im.”

Kakashi playfully smacks your ass while you finish cooking in the kitchen. You were craving strip steak so you splurged a little this week.

“What’s the occasion anyways?”

“The occasion is called self care. Work sucks this month and we still have a week to go. I wanna treat myself. Just count yourself lucky that I included you.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have shared.”

“I don’t know, I’m a pretty selfish person.”

“Oh please, you're literally the nicest person at the company. You can’t say no to anyone.”

“Hey! I can say no.”

“Psh, yeah right. You’re a textbook people pleaser. That’s why you’re so stressed.”

“Maybe I’m stressed cause my best friend is making wild accusations.”

“Wild?! Hello Y/N, meet delusion.”

“Fuck off!”

Kakashi slaps your ass again before pushing himself off the counter to go look for plates.

“Can you grab the fancy napkins out of the towel drawer?”

“You wanna use cloth napkins?” he says in an almost mocking tone

“Yes. It’s been a shitty week. I wanna be fancy. Sue me.”

Kakashi nearly rolls his eyes as he grabs the restaurant quality napkins from the drawer. You wanted to be fancy yet he knew for a fact you wouldn’t be eating at the table. You plate the meal and grab your ‘fancy’ glass of boxed wine before heading to the living room.

The two of you sit on the couch and eat the potatoes and steak while Kakashi turns on “10 Things I Hate About You.” He always was a sucker for chick flicks which was one of your favorite parts of his personality. You find yourself leaning against him after your plates have been discarded to the coffee table, cleaned of their contents, napkins on top.

Near the end of the movie Kakashi gets a text. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and the title of the sender says ‘Val my Boss’ ‘Bitch’

Come in two hours early on Monday to get started on those invoices

Kakashi closes his phone without responding and throws it down on the couch.

“Everything okay?”

“It wants me there two hours early on Monday”

“That sucks! She’s the worst.”

“Fuckin sick of her”

“On the bright side, you get overtime pay.”

Kakashi scowls at you. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

You nuzzle into him some more. “I was just trying to cheer you up. You don’t have to be annoying about it.”

Something in Kakashi snaps. He turns to grab you. Fingers closing around your throat, “Don’t call me annoying. Didn’t anyone teach you that name calling was rude.”

In your surprise, you felt a jolt of excitement between your legs. You let out a little whimper and the sound was so gratifying that Kakashi lifted his fingers lightly just to regrip your neck and squeeze harder. He shifts his weight so he is fully facing you, leaning inches from your face.

“Maybe I need to teach you some manners.”

You silently nod as you look at him, eyes getting lost in his, excitement coursing through your body. He pulls you forward by your neck and kisses you, immediately shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moan. Your hands fly up to his hair, lightly pulling at the soft tresses. Kakashi mounts you, straddling you so you can’t run from him, not that you would. One hand on your throat, the other behind your head, pushing your face against his.

The heat between you had been building for the better part of a year. You had been imagining this moment for a while but never did you picture him choking you. It must’ve been your lucky day cause the choking was leaps and bounds hotter than any scenario you had imagined.

You push your tongue past his lips and rub your piercing along his inner gum line. Kakashi groans into your mouth, gently nibbling on the muscle between his teeth. You playfully flick the ball of your piercing along the roof of his mouth. He squeezes your neck harder and leans back.

“Shit Y/N, that’s fucking hot.”

He goes back to sucking on your bottom lip while you nibble on his upper one, each getting toothy with the other, slowly starting to pull on each other’s hair more with each passing second.

Suddenly it occurs to you that you might be ruining your friendship and things could be weird after this. You don’t wanna lose your best friend.

“Wait Kash, should we be doing this?”

Kakashi leans back, taking his hands off of you. For a millisecond you regret your words. You want this. You want him. Why the fuck did you stop it? But then you see him reach for his belt buckle and you exhale. You see him undo the clasp, pulling it out from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m so sick and tired of women telling me what to do.”

He wraps the belt around your wrists and tugs at the excess length, lifting your hands up and behind your head, elbows bent at the ears, his arm behind your back as his other hand comes up to your jaw. In a menacing tone he smoothly leans in to give you a piece of his mind.

“How about for once, one of you shuts up, and do what I tell you to do for a change?”

The question nearly knocks the wind out of you. You can feel your underwear soak. The sternness in his voice made you instinctually slip out the words,

“Yes sir”

You part your lips and he's back at them, playing with your piercing before you push it back into his mouth to keep running the metallic ball along his interior. You really were a textbook people pleaser.

The hungry moan from his mouth falls into yours. You want nothing more than for him to spend hours here in this very position but it’s not up to you. It’s up to him to decide how long you are to receive his lips. Which to your disappointment, is not very long.

He gets up off of you and yanks on the end of the belt so that you are forced to lie down on the couch. He slips his hand out from under your back but your body weight on the end of the tether keeps your hands in position. He’s on top of you once more and you can feel his erection through his pants. Your eyes shift down to gaze at the bulge when he distracts you.

Kakashi reaches for the hem of your tight tank and pulls it over your head so that your face is trapped under the fabric. He pulls up your sports bra allowing your chest to fall out of the support. You hear his growl as his eyes fall on your tits. To his excitement you’ve been keeping a naughty secret from him. Each peak lay trapped between two black cones. You had pierced your nipples as well as your tongue.

“Oh I’m gonna have fun with you.”

Oh gods I hope so…

Kakashi dragged his tongue tantalizingly slow over each bud. They were more erect than usual from the hauntingly beautiful man kneeling over you. He lapped at your right nipple, letting his lower lip catch on the jewelry earning a gasp from you.

“F-fuck Kashi.”

Grabbing your breasts with both hands, Kakashi went back and forth sucking on each peak, tugging on your piercing, then blowing cold air on the wet tip before switching over to the other. Your back arched up towards him involuntarily. You wished you could have watched him play with you but instead you were trapped in your own shirt waiting for Kakashi to let you see.

When Kakashi started biting down on your nipples you moaned loudly at the pain. He was enjoying your piercings too much. They already made you more sensitive on a daily basis and now he was out to torture you for his own fun. You started to squirm under him and he slapped down on your tit.

“Ah”

“Be still”

He barked, but he didn’t actually want you to be still. He just wanted to see your internal struggle. He wanted to wreak havoc over your body the way his bitch of a boss was wreaking havoc over his life. For once he was in control and he loved it.

You rubbed your legs together, the arousal you felt was too much. You craved relief.

“Kashi” you whine

“Fine slut, here.” he switched your legs so instead of being under him they were wrapped around his waist.

“Grind on me and make yourself cum.”

You obey, glad to get some alleviation from the flood of need consuming you as his muscle continues to glide over your peaks, tugging and rubbing on the black hardwear. The sensation in your nipples tingling down to the nerves between your legs, rubbing heavily on Kakashi’s lap. You push into his clothed erection, creating heat from the friction. You feel the desire building as you get reprieve where you need it. Little gasps and moans generate under the shirt, as your core works to roll your hips up and down on him.

“Mmmm, keep going little slut. Show me how much you want to get fucked.”

He tugs particularly hard on your nipple as you try to reply

“Gahhh! Yes sir.”

He wished he could see how your face scrunched up as he played with his new favorite toys but there was just something so sexy about you being trapped in your shirt. It made him want to take advantage of you. Like you were some pathetic weakling, waiting for him to destroy you.

You grind more desperately, feeling close to a release. Kakashi begins to mark your chest while his fingers pinch and play with your nipples. He was driving you insane. Your mind clouding as your hips frenzied up and down along the bulge in his pants. Breath becoming labored as you frantically chased your orgasm.

Kakashi released his lips from your skin, satisfied with his artwork but fingers still playing with your tips.

“That’s it. I know you’re close. Show me how much you want me to stuff you.”

“Yes! Yes sir, yes!”

Kakashi was so tempted to grab your hips and finish the job but he held himself back. There was plenty of time left to manipulate you. This was you earning it. To keep his hands busy he brought one back up to your neck, bearing down on your windpipe while the other found the belt, giving it another tug to keep your hands under your shoulder blades.

You slowed your strokes making them big and heavy, tugging your lips through your pants and soon he could feel you shiver against him.

“Did the little slut make herself cum?”

“Mhm” you whine under your shirt.

“Good job” he praises with another swat to your chest.

Kakashi begins to rip down your pants, spitting on your pussy before giving it a wack of his palm. He then pulls the neck of your shirt above your face so that it is still binding your arms together but now you can at least see.

He stands up and begins to shed his clothes. You watch, mesmerized by his towering figure. His work at the gym was yielding mouth watering results and you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking. You wanted to lick between each muscle and leave bruises all along his abdominals the way he marked your tits.

“Lets put this mouth to better use, hmm?”

You nod, looking up through your lashes at him.

“On your knees, whore. Now!”

You slide off the couch to stand up on your knees before him. He pushes your head down to his balls for you to collect them in your mouth. You stick your pierced tongue out to pull them into where they belong while Kakashi strokes his freed boner violently.

You fit both orbs in between your lips and suck, running your pink muscle all over them, massaging them with the stainless steel ball resting at the center of your tongue.

“That’s right. You’re nothing more than a good mouth for sucking on my nuts.”

You hum in agreement and feel Kakashi’s balls tighten as you do. “Fuck, just a perfect little slut. Yes you are.”

You loved his praise. Your eyes closed as you savored the taste of him. He ripped his balls out of your mouth and replaced it with his pink tip. You looked him in the eyes while you worshiped it. Giving light kitten licks before wrapping your lips around it. That’s when you noticed. He had been keeping a kinky secret from you too. Your lips run over a dydoe piercing on the top rim of his mushroom head. Your eyes widen.

“You like?”

You nod your head keeping him inside your mouth. You suck and begin prodding at his slit with the tip of your pointed tongue before rubbing it with the ball in your mouth. Kakashi shivers from the feeling.

You start to take more of him in your mouth, keeping your tongue out so that the round stainless steel end massages his shaft as you bob up and down on him. You can feel the small silver studs adorning his rim rubbing the back of your throat and you can’t wait to know how they feel inside your empty cunt. But you don’t get to enjoy these musings for too long. Kakashi places both hands on the back of your head and starts ramming himself down your throat. You choke and he holds you there. Keeping you down on him. The drool in your mouth starts spilling past your lips.

“That’s a good girl. Keep my dick in your throat.”

Your face was turning bright red as you waited to breathe. Finally he pulled you back. You gasp and pant, swallowing what oxygen you could before he was shoving himself back in.

“Eyes open, I want you looking at me.”

You obey as he bullies your throat. His hands in your hair tilting your face up so he can gaze down on you. Drinking in the feeling of power, having you down on your knees before him.

“You gonna be a good little slut and service my cock, right?”

You try to say yes but it comes out muffled. “Huh? What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You try again but he deliberately starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. “Speak up if you have something to say.”

You try to say yes again but now he is freely fucking your face, ramming himself down your windpipe, while he pushes your head towards him. Hissing from the feeling of your tongue ring at the base of his shaft. He had never thought about how that stupid little steel bar in your mouth could be so useful to him. Now he may never stop thinking about it.

“Good girl.” he coos, “Don’t forget to look up.”

You try but then he pushes himself extra far and your eyes snap shut as your core tightens. You think you’ve had about all you can take when he finally pulls you off of him and spins you around so your face lays on the couch with your feet planted on the ground, displaying your holes to Kakashi’s leering eyes.

He immediately goes to swat at your lips dripping with arousal. The sound of impact is loud as you cry out.

“This cute little pussy is for me, ey?”

“Yes!” you cry.

You want him in you so bad. You need to feel him fill your hole the way he filled your mouth. You are eager to feel just how good his piercing rubs your walls. You wiggle your behind, asking for him to enter.

“You think you deserve a reward for taking my cock in your mouth so good?”

“Please sir”

He brings the palm of his hand down hard on your rear. “You don’t get rewarded for doing the bare minimum.”

Your skin stings from the blow but then it’s washed away from his tip prodding at your entrance. He teasingly enters only half way, stroking you lightly before pulling out and striking you with immense force again. As you cry he reenters you, deeper than before. Stroking in and out hearing your moans before he pulls out again and strikes with even more force. You feel like your skin is burning when he plunges in all the way. He thrusts in and out quickly making you sing before he rips out of your tightening hole to strike you several times. He repeats the brutal process, taunting you.

“You think you’re special just cause you can take a dick? Ha! You’re just a little whore.”

You reply with cries and screams, noises falling out of you from the beating.

“You think you’re special cause I chose to shove my dick in you? Think again slut. You’re just a toy for my pleasure.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. Your knees grew weak from the game. It felt too good but he was edging you. Giving you pleasure but pulling out and hitting you before you could get off.

He unwraps your wrists and finishes taking off your shirt and bra. He throws them across the room and loops the belt around your neck, tugging on the end like a leash. Your fingers desperately reach up to the leather.

He holds onto the belt while shoving himself into you, taking you from behind like the little sex doll that you are. He rails through you pushing your organs aside while tugging hard on the belt, letting it constrict around your throat as your back bows. Nothing but grunts make it past your lips as the backs of your thighs collide with his hips. With his free hand he keeps hitting your plush behind, watching the ripples wash over your skin.

Your hands find their way to the couch cushions for support but he doesn’t like that. No, you’re not helpless enough like that.

“Spread your cheeks”

“Yes sir” you whisper

You reach behind you and spread your fingers before sinking them into the flesh of your behind, tugging outward so Kakashi could get a full view of your puckered rear and his wide girth gliding in and out of your labia. He groaned at the sight of your beautiful submission. Reveling in the feeling of how much tighter he had to hold the leash now that more of your weight was resting on your neck.

You choke as he wraps the belt around his knuckles. A reminder that you are no longer in control. At work you were in charge of so many daily operations but at this moment you were at Kakashi’s mercy. You were relieved of any choices. Your current master made them for you. Even the choice to breathe had been stripped away and that thought made juices squelch around his member invading your silken cavern.

Kakashi thrusts into you, abusing you, taking out all his pent up frustration on your body. He sees your starting to go limp and lets up on your tether, opting to grab you at your elbows instead. The improved grasp on your body allows him to slam in more forcefully and hit you even deeper than he did before.

Now that the tension had fallen from your neck you were able to properly breathe again. You begin screaming from the new depths of Kakashi’s dick in your slit. Feeling how his ring was massaging you in his assault, dragging along your walls as they squeezed around him.

As much as he savored the sounds of your surrender, he couldn’t have your neighbors checking in on you so he grabbed one of the napkins from the coffee table and stuffed it in your mouth, gagging you so as to muffle your cries. You couldn’t help how noisy you were. The stimulation was just overwhelming.

Thinking it couldn’t get more intense, he shoves you forward so your knees fall onto the couch. He grabs your hair and pushed your face onto the back of it, while reaching around your waist to begin rubbing your swollen bud. He begins stroking again and you feel yourself unravel. Your hands go to grip the couch again when he yanks on your hair to bring your ear close to his mouth.

“Did I say you could let go of your ass?”

You shake your head and bring your hands back behind you. He shoves your head back down and says,

“Grab your elbows. This ass needs some punishment.”

You whine, knowing your bright red skin can’t handle any more spanking but that isn’t your decision to make. You fold your arms behind your back and hold onto your elbows, bent over the back of the couch, your erect nipples grazing the upholstery. He lifts a foot onto the couch, posed as Captain Morgan so as to keep himself inserted as he brings his hand down on your cheek. He feels how you clench up in pain, straining around his girth. It eggs him on as he continues spanking your backside. You flinch and cry but he knows you like it. He feels how you drip. Slick coating your inner thighs.

“Only a whore would enjoy this so much. Tell me, are you a whore?”

You scream into the napkin as he brings his hand down again.

“Answer me!”

You try to scream ‘yes’ but the fabric has you silenced. He snatches it out from between your teeth as he strikes you again.

“Yes!! Yes I love it sir!”

He shoves the napkin back in, satisfied with your answer.

“Fuckin knew it, filthy slut”

With a final slap he pulls your hips back so you’re lined up along the edge of the couch. He stands behind you, one hand digging into your hip, the other still tangled in your hair, burying your face into the back cushion of the couch.

He drags in and out of you slowly, taunting you. Each time coming out to the tip so your ridge feels the metallic studs tug at it. Then he buries himself up to the hilt, pushing in just a little more when he’s flush against your rear. Satisfied moans come from your chest.

He drops the hand on your hip and brings it back to your clit, rubbing circles around it. You squeeze around him and flinch. He leans down,

“Do you like when I rub there?”

“Mhm” is all you can say before he releases your hair to take hold of your hips. He starts driving in. Both hands now placed on the flesh of your waist, pulling you back into him harshly with each thrust. He gains speed, the momentum causing his balls to crash into your clit, replacing the work his fingers were doing. Your face melts into a pleasured expression as you feel that coil of tension, that had been building since his earlier edging, on the verge of snapping.

His brutal pace left his sack crashing into your clit relentlessly. Your face bounces against the cushions until you finally release. You spray as you shake, graffitiing the couch with your fluids, the tingling warmth of the orgasm radiating from your cunt.

Kakashi pile drives into you, not letting you rest, allowing his balls to continue slapping into your swollen, wet clit as you spray, making your jerk violently. He grabs your hips tighter, keeping control of your body so he can continue to pound into you. You scream and writhe, trying to escape his grasp, almost letting go of your elbows to push him off.

Your sensitivity was all consuming and he didn’t care at all. You were a toy, a fleshlight, poised to service him. He was going to take advantage of how tightly your walls were bearing down on him, even if it was uncomfortable for you.

Your cries fell on deaf ears as Kakashi sank himself into you. He pushed you forward on the couch more, making room for him to kneel behind you. He brought up one knee and lifted your leg to rest on top of it, spreading you when you were already too tender to take any more. The new angle deepened his access, allowing him to push your diaphragm out of the way as he chases his pleasure.

You were brilliant. Your sweaty slick covered body contorted to his every whim. The look of your fucked out face turning around to plead with him for mercy where none would be granted. How the napkin was wet around your lips from the drool collecting in your mouth. The bright red on your ass cheeks from taking a beating by his hand and the perky peaks of your tits, rubbing along the couch’s fabric. The cones of your piercings, threatening to snag, tempting his hands to toy with them again.

One hand planted on your hip, controlling the pace, while the other reached up and began groping your chest. He was obsessed with your nipples. The piercings were too enticing. As much as he loved the current position, he needed to see your tits.

He withdrew from inside of you with a loud squelch and pulled you down to the floor, your bare back making contact with the area rug below. You brought your knees up near your arm pits, holding them spread as Kakashi sunk his tip past your folds, stroking in and out of you passionately while his hand roamed the surface of your chest, playing with the bars piercing your buds. You make doe eyes at him as he does, making him smirk with pride. Maybe this is his new Friday night ritual with you. You spread your legs while he plays with your tits.

He bends his head to give them both a harsh suck before he adjusts your legs to go over his shoulders. You hands wrap around his neck as he starts to slam into your corridor. You scrunch up from the intensity. Your head burying into Kakashi’s neck before a particularly cruel snap of his hips had you flinging your head back, nails sinking into the skin at the base of his head, your back arching off the carpet before he leaned forward, bending you in two. He was close to finishing, pounding feverishly into you. The last of his stress melting away as he wrecks your pussy, shredding the inside, rubbing it raw, filling it with his precum. His anger turns to pleasure. Teetering once more on the brink of orgasm. He leans in even more and you fall over the edge, gushing around him, cum dripping from your folds and down your ass crack. Your mewls are muzzled by the napkin still stuffed in your mouth as mascara runs down your sweaty tear soaked cheeks. You are the picture of wrecked and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Just as he’s about to burst he rips the napkin out of your mouth and grabs a fist full of your hair to drag your face to his cock so he can shoot his heavy load down your throat. You stick out your tongue and hollow your cheeks to pull as much cum from his shaft as you can, feeling it rhythmically spring to the back of your throat. His salty taste filling your mouth.

When he’s done, you hold the suction and bob your head some more. He flinches but you grab his waist, getting revenge for his earlier brutality after you squirted. He fists your hair and pulls back forcefully.

“Nice try slut.”

You smile up at him, feeling fully fucked out. Smiling back down at you, he kisses your face. He pulls you up but only to push you back down on the couch so he can lay on top of you and sloppily make out while he plays with your nipple piercings some more. You sleepily wrap your arms around him, drained from his pounding. 

“I’m spending the night.”

“Yes sir.” you whisper in your ear.

“Don’t get me riled up again. I don’t think you can take a second round.” he murmurs into your ear before kissing your temple. You ignore him and wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him with your bare sex.

Stopping you before he gets carried away, he stands up and throws your body over his shoulder like a nap sack. He hoists you up to your bathroom to shower. 

After turning on the water he fingers you under the spray, pinning you against the wall and toying with his new obsession. Your already very weak knees are unable to hold your weight as they quake in pleasure. His digits bury themselves inside you, scoping out the damage done by his length minutes prior, feeling how he tore and scratched you. 

After making you cum a third time, fourth time total, he washes himself off. Then scrubs down your weakened form, being extra gentle around the rug burn on your back as well as your very bruised and beaten bottom.

Turning off the water and drying you both, he pulls your exhausted body to your bedroom, grabbing panties and a fresh tank top from the top drawer of your dresser. You slowly and sleepily put them on as he goes to get his briefs from the living room. When he returns he sees you try to put on pajama pants.

“Absolutely not.”

You stop in your tracks as he strides over to swat at your hand. He kicks the bottoms aside for the crime of trying to hide your beautiful body and takes posession over your mouth. Kissing you as he guides you backwards onto the bed. You climb in together and pull the covers up over your bodies while you wrap your leg over his hips. You sleepily grind on him with your eyes closed, sucking on his face, feeling wiped out from how he ravaged you.

He tickles your ear as he whispers, “You realize you’re not allowed to wear bras anymore.”

“I’m not?” you dreamily ask between kisses

“No” he replies with a pinch to your nipples through your shirt. “I need to see these at all times.”

“I can do that”

“Good slut”

You laugh into his mouth, continuing to kiss him. Excited for next Friday.

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